#& one of them would get to the wrong pipe and end me before i achieve anything ...............................

[ryllen]

i thought / m a n / these girls are quite heartless 🤣 when i accepted the quest at /clearly/ inconvenient time to swim & dive

[albertasunrise]

Hope - Getting Your Hopes Up

Masterlist

Summary: After Joel loses his wife and your best friend during childbirth. You support him as he takes on parenthood on his own at 22. But when feelings start to develop, you battle with the guilt you feel for falling for your best friend’s husband.

Relationships: Joel Miller x Reader

Warnings: Like AO3 I choose to give none. Read at own risk. 18+… this is to avoid spoilers! (So first chapter's a little short but I promise its building... Gonna be away for a few days one a work trip but will try get some more updates out in a few days)

Series Masterlist - Part 1

Joel had instantly sensed that something had changed between you both after the visit to Tommy’s and not for the better. You were more guarded around him. Kept a sort of, metaphorical and sometimes physical, distance from him at all times and he just couldn’t understand what had changed. He had thought the visit had gone well. You and Tommy had hit it off and his brother hadn’t stopped thanking you for the help you were so generously bestowing on him and his daughter.

Maybe that was it.

You were fed up with the sleepless nights and taking care of not only Sarah but him also. When you said you were going to move in and help, he hadn’t thought to ask how long you planned to do that. It had been a few months now. Perhaps you were at the end of your tether and he couldn’t expect you to do this forever.

You on the other hand were wracked with guilt. The feelings you had developed for Joel and the statement he’d made at Tommy’s had led you to avoid any sort of close contact with him. You thought by distancing yourself from him that it would get easier to cope with them but you were wrong. It just confused you further. His sad eyes would follow you as you flitted around the house cleaning or cooking or tending to Sarah. You knew you weren't dealing with this in the right way but there wasn't an instruction manual on this.

'Idiots guide to dealing with your crush on your dead best friend's husband.'

Yeah, there wasn't anything out there to help you navigate these feelings you felt. Then, on a rare and much-needed night out 3 months later with the girls, your friend Linda suggested you try something new.

"Speed dating?" You snorted as you sipped your Mojito.

"Don't knock it till you've tried it." Linda defended, pointing her forefinger at you as she smirked at your reaction "My sister met her fiancé doing it and they're an amazing couple."

"I'm not exactly looking for a husband right now." You chuckled, glancing at Hanna that was watching this interaction with amusement.

"Well, my tall dark and handsome over there would probably happily help you with your dry spell." She chuckled, motioning at the man who had, unbeknown to you, been glancing at you all evening "He's not been able to take his eyes off of you."

"I don't know." You grumbled, smiling at him sweetly before looking back at your friends "I don't know if I-"

"He's coming over." Linda grinned as she playfully elbowed you.

"I think it's time for another round." Piped up Hanna, winking at you "Linda, could you help."

"No… No, no Pleas-" You didn't get to finish your sentence before they were up and leaving you to fend for yourself.

Mr tall dark and handsome seemed to falter a moment before schooling his features and heading over to your table.

"Hi." He said softly, giving you a sweet smile and you felt yourself relax a little as you replied with a quiet "Hey." Back.

"Your friends are about as subtle as a dump truck." He joked and you snorted.

"Understatement."

"I'm Alec." He said, holding his hand out to shake which you accepted as you gave him your name in return.

"I uh… I gotta confess something." He said, scratching the back of his neck bashfully and you felt your pulse quicken "I uh, I'm not very good at this. I just got divorced and my buddy over there dragged me out to find someone to wet my wick."

"Think my friends were trying to achieve something similar." You chuckled "Been going through a bit of a dry spell." You confessed, your cheeks burning in embarrassment.

"Well, I guess what I'm trying to say is that I pretty much noticed you the moment you walked in with your friends and I… Well, I decided that if there was anyone I wanted to try this whole 'dating' thing with again, it was you."

"I could be a psycho for all you know." You scoffed "How could you possibly know that I was the girl you wanted?"

"Because you're the most beautiful woman I have ever seen." He stated plainly, ripping the air from your lungs "You have honest eyes."

"Honest eyes?" You chuckled and he nodded.

"You can tell a lot about a person from their eyes."

You smiled at his statement. Finding yourself taken by his dark hair and piercing blue eyes. You continued to talk, even when your friends returned with the round of drinks they had promised. They eventually left, demanding you call them with the details to which you rolled your eyes before hugging them goodbye. You stayed at the bar a little while longer. Getting to know Alec intimately. What he liked to read, cook, and do on the weekends. You learned that he had a two-year-old that he had sole custody of. The mother not wanting to be tied down by family. He lit up when you asked if he had a picture and he was quick to pull out a Polaroid that he kept in his wallet.

"My uh… My parents have Noah for the night." He said, smiling nervously at you as he took his shot "Did you uh… do you fancy coming back to my place?"

"Definitely!"

Joel was sitting staring at his mug of coffee when you made your entrance that following morning. He looked up at you briefly before returning to staring at the mug in his hands, watching the steam rise from the drink and fade into nothingness.

"Good night?" He asked, desperately trying to keep his voice steady.

"Great night." You replied, pulling a mug from the cupboard and pouring yourself some coffee from the machine "Really needed it."

"Good." He replied plainly "Glad you enjoyed yourself."

"I did." You continued, completely unaware of the tone Joel was setting "I didn't realise how badly I needed to let my hair down. The last few months haven't allowed for much fun." You chuckled and Joel scoffed.

"Sorry, we're such bores." He grumbled, taking a large swig of his coffee and your brows drew together as you turned to face him.

"You know I didn't mean it that way." You argued, feeling your heart tug a little at the thought he would think you didn't enjoy his company.

"You didn't come home last night." He stated and you felt even more confused by his attitude.

"I uh… I met someone last night and we hooked up." You replied casually, shrugging your shoulders as you blew on the coffee in your grasp.

Joel felt jealousy lick at his soul but he knew he had no right to feel that way. You were only there to help him with Sarah. He had said it himself. You and he were just friends. Nothing more.

"Right, well, would have appreciated a heads up that you weren't coming back." He grumbled, downing the last of his coffee before standing to grab himself a refill "I was worried."

You opened your mouth to argue but stopped in your tracks. You were living under his roof and you should have probably given him a heads up.

"I know sorry." You sighed "Didn't mean to worry ya." You continued as you scraped a hand over your mouth "I wasn't really thinking about you at the time."

"Figures." He snarled and you felt your fuse burn out.

"You know, I think perhaps I should move back home now." You piped up and Joel's eyes widened as he turned on his heel to look at you "Sarah's nearly 5 months old now. You don't need my help anymore."

"I-"

"I'll still be around if you need help but I think it's best if I just go home. I'm only getting in the way now."

"You're not…" Joel trailed off as he tried to find the words to say to stop you from doing this.

From leaving him.

"Sarah's so used to you being around. What if she doesn't like just me being there."

"She'll forget about me in no time." You said softly, starting to feel guilty about the decision you were making "It'll be fine Joel." You assured him "You're a great father!… You don't need me."

You moved out that night. It didn't take you long to pack the clothes you'd brought with you, packing them into your car before saying your goodbyes to Joel and Sarah and driving home. Tears flowed freely down your cheeks as you watched them disappear in the rearview mirror. You hated to leave them but you knew that if you wanted to remain friends, you had to leave. It was the right thing to do.

In the two months that followed, your and Joel's relationship started to mend. You were able to laugh together again. You continued to take care of Sarah on the days he wasn't able to but your evenings were taken up by your new relationship with Alec and his adorable son. The relationship flourished with each date and kiss you shared.

Joel watched from the sidelines as you fell hard and fast for this man. The green monster he had tried to tamp down was trying to crawl its way out every time he was near the two of you. Weekends with you, Alec and Noah had become a common occurrence. Noah seemed to enjoy showing Sarah how to play and she seemed to be just as taken by him.

"Maybe there are wedding bells in their future." Alec joked one Saturday as he watched Noah lay on his tummy on Sarah's play mat beside her. playing with her assortment of toys as she watched him with a wide grin on her face.

"They are super cute together." You piped up, chuckling as Alec wrapped his arm around you and pulled you close so he could kiss you sweetly.

"Not as cute as you too." Chuckled Tommy from his seat beside his brother "It's actually a little sickening." He said as he mimed himself vomiting and you rolled your eyes at him and flipped him off.

"You're just jealous." You teased the younger Miller as you returned to arranging the sides and cutlery on the table.

"Not much time for relationships right now." He replied with a shrug as he took a swig of his beer "What about you brother?"

"Hmm?" Joel hummed as he looked at his brother "What about me?"

"You been on any dates?"

"I'm a widow with a baby." Joel scoffed "Not much time to date between naps, changed diapers and bottle feeds."

"You know we would happily have her for an evening if wanted a night off!" You piped up, looking up at Alec who smiled and nodded at you in agreement.

"I hear there's a speed dating event going on this weekend and the Rising Sun." Alec announced as he scooped up the burgers and placed them on a bun "Didn't a friend of yours meet her fiancé at one?"

"Friend's sister but yes." You replied, "They're like the perfect couple I swear!"

"I'm not looking to date right now." Joel growled, wishing desperately for this conversation to end.

"Oh come on brother, you can't remain alone forever."

"My wife, Sarah's mum, has been dead less than a year." He snapped and rendered you all silent "I lost…" He tried off as his eyes zoned in on you, noting Alec's hand on your hip and how you leaned into him as he planned a tender kiss on your temple.

"Sorry, Joel." Piped up Tommy, pulling his attention away from you and to his brother beside him "We didn't mean-"

"I know." Joel stopped Tommy in his tracks, giving him a reassuring look as the necks of their beers clinked together "I'm just not sure I'm ready for anything new right now."

"You know where we are when you are." Alec piped up "We're here for you."

"Always." You said, giving Joel a nod before looking up at Alec adoringly.

Joel said nothing more. He watched as you and Alec shared what could only be described as a loving kiss and Joel could do nothing but watch. Muttering what he was about to say under his breath as he sipped his beer.

"I lost my chance with her." His eyes didn't leave you as you giggled at Alec cheekily grabbing your ass as you started to carry the burgers over to the table "I blew my chance at loving her."

Next

For updates follow @albertasunrise-ficsblog

[f-o-x-t-r-o-t]

Do you think Jason would ever try and adopt kids of his own? I imagine he'd be beyond happy to have a family of his own even if he would need to leave the vigilante lifestyle behind but also wouldn't really imagine something like that being possible for himself in the first place. For several reasons.

First and foremost, we all need to be on the same page that Jason is canonically really good with kids. It's also canon that Jason has some of the worst familial luck in the world.

I think, to Jason, starting a family would be one of his pipe dreams. He knows intimately not every person should be a parent. That it's a parent's job to put their kid first and not every adult is capable of doing that. Jason predominately had to raise himself and had very little guidance as a young child from the adults around him. He's been on the receiving end of taking care of the adults who should've been taking care of him and has had their trauma/issues projected onto him his entire life. Jason has no idea where to start with raising a child. The only stepping stones he has are "Don't do what was done to you as a child" and "What did I need as a child?" Which can be helpful tools, but aren't stable foundations to raise a child on. To this day, Jason still doesn't know how he should actually be treated as a living human being. While he can usually reciprocate needs to others, he's constantly overshadowed by this weight that he's doing everything wrong.

Jason is pretty self-aware and he knows how damaging it is to be on the receiving end of a parent who's not capable of raising a kid. Whether he faults those adults or not, he would blame himself because he would be actively choosing to have a kid. Jason knows he's fucked up and he wouldn't want to fuck a kid up like how he was. Especially because Bruce did do that with a multiple of his: "I didn't want them to turn into me." Even further, Jason doesn't even pursue most (romantic) relationships because he's well aware of his many issues and enemies and how that can lead to many problems. In what world would he feel comfortable putting a child in that position if he fears projecting onto and/or damaging a fellow adult? I think he'd even view it as being selfish. How he's only adopting a child because "he wants one," "wants to help them," "etc." because again that didn't turn out well for Jason. The man knows he'd have to achieve a spectacular amount of healing before he'd be capable of raising a child and Jason doesn't fully know how or if he can heal from the life he's led. Besides that, Jason would constantly be worried about his old life coming back to haunt his new one.

The only way I could see him adopting kids would be if he left the vigilante business (which neither he nor I see happening) and probably somewhat cutting ties with the bats. Whether because of rocky relationships or because he knows being in contact with them would only allow trouble to lead back to him and the new life he's made. Like if Jason was hypothetically a parent, I don't think he'd trust himself to leave his kids around Bruce. If something were to happen to his kids (like killed by an enemy hypothetically), he knows damn well Bruce won't do anything about it except try to stop Jason from putting an end to whoever hurt his loved ones. He would Especially not let them be his sidekick. I know Scarlett and Duela, two girls people like putting as "his" (which ignores the fact that he and Duela used to be the same age. Before that, her older than him), were already loosely ~in the bizz~ so to speak, but he actively encouraged both girls to leave and be something more. Tyler, on the other hand, I hate how fandom always forgets his mom is right there and still around? Yes, she was in the hospital, but people forget that she got better and is getting help. Very dismissive and, to me, comes off as incredibly uncouth.

This isn't to say Jason doesn't know anything about kids and child care. I think Jason knows logically that X is abusive and can do Y to a child's development. But I think his own fears, insecurities, and rightfully placed concerns+considerations would get in the way of ever truly considering kids of his own. In fact, I think that's one of the things that could make Jason a really good parent: He knows that not everyone should be one.

TL;DR No, I don't think Jason would ever adopt/have kids in general because he fears doing to them what was done to him. I.E. Pushing and projecting trauma onto a kid because he knows he doesn't have the skills to be a long-time caretaker to a child. Let that man heal. Slapping him with a kid won't actually do that. You can argue he could "break the cycle of abuse," but I truly think Jason is too terrified to even attempt that because he knows that kids are actually their own person too and deserve to be treated as such. He would never adopt "Just because he's always wanted a kid/start a family of his own."

Really, most takes I see with giving Jason kids are because people either want to squeeze him out of vigilantism or so he can "be more like Bruce" with the adoption tendencies. Neither falls in line with canon Jason while also confusing long-term care = "being good with kids" which are not the same things.

[fpmbp]

One way too big post for all the stuff I forgot to post

Would like to start things off by saying the only reason I haven't posted much of the development for my game is because I was off a lot and had to essentially speed run it to get to an actual playable game. So many original ideas had to be scrapped because of this.

Story/Plot: For this one, I'll give you a before and an after of what it was and now is.

Before: Before I had to scrap the idea and speed run my project, the game would have been a music based first person platformer. It would have been a set of trials with different sound cues telling you what you had to do. For example, a drum noise would mean jump. There was supposed to be progressively more difficult levels, some with sequences you had to remember.

After: A trial where you have to essentially do a Roman entertainment fight only this time you have a pan flute gun and the enemies have bongo hats and are cubes.

Objective: I don't think my game really has an objective. The original objective was to escape the king (Mr Tambourine) and get home. Unfortunately, this couldn't be achieved. I guess wipe out all the enemies as fast as possible?

Genre: Now my game is a first person shooter but before it was supposed to be a first person platformer.

Other games that inspired me: There wasn't really any other games that inspired me. I came up with the idea when I was told about the project. Other games I looked at just didn't really contain what I wanted. The colosseum was sorta inspired by the movie Gladiator but also just a regular Roman one.

Art style: The art style I used is voxels using Magica Voxel. This is because I find it easier to design things using pixels. Nothing has to be too detailed, it can be just a block with a face and an instrument hat like I did for both the king and the enemies.

My actual project:

This part is for all the things I did in my project.

The Gun:

This is the gun I use in my game. It's a basic 15 pipe pan flute that makes pan flute noises when you fire it.

It fires a custom projectile that looks like this:

In the projectile code, there is the hitting enemies code.

What this does is it checks if the thing the projectile is hitting has a specific tag called "Enemy". If it does it will see how much health the enemy has and take 50 away from it, destroying the actor if its health is equal to or below 0.

The assets of the game itself:

Now we move on to the actual assets I created for the game.

The colosseum:

A basic circle shape in the middle with a much larger circle around it. I used an incredibly helpful website in order to create the circles.

It's meant for Minecraft but you can input any numbers you like and it will give you a pixel grid of it. I then built a "throne" for the king. It's more of just a platform with a red carpet on it.

The king himself/Mr Tambourine:

The king's face was totally random. I drew random circle-ish shapes and coloured them in. The Tambourine on top of his head was made with the circle generator that I used for the colosseum, I then added the little symbol things.

The Enemies:

The enemies are all the same, the king but recoloured and with bongos instead of a tambourine. Mostly self explanatory.

Sound:

I have no idea what to say for some of this. I can say that what it does is it will see if you pressed the left mouse button and if you did it will then check if you have the rifle. If you have the rifle it will then play a random pan flute sound and fires the projectile. I don't know what the location and the rotation bit does.

Now we get to the part that I can't put down as I couldn't get any screenshots of it. I couldn't change the gun to begin with, it ended up being the same mesh but the wrong way up, not my pan flute. Eventually it was fixed and works now. That's about all there was for my game. None of the code was really changed.

[shotorozu]

ok so i was at a wedding this weekend and the dj did this stupid thing to see which couple at the wedding had been married the longest and the couple that won had been married for 56 years and it got me thinking...

you and bakogou who were highschool sweethearts and now youre in your 90's

the couple who has great great grandchildren and a family tree the size of 3 elephants stacked on top but never forget to send a birthday card

the couple who sleeps in separate beds for health reasons but are so full of love everyone has hope for themselves

the couple where they have to scream at each other because their hearing is shit but the love in their eyes is so pure

the couple that just has to look at each other and they immediatly know what to cook for dinner because they know each other that well

just please i want bakogou fluff in the form of growing old together 😩

by the years

character(s) : bakugou katsuki, todoroki shouto, aizawa shouta (bnha)

note(s) : honestly i have never thought about this before 🤩 so this was really interesting to write out :)) no format because this is kind of just a series of brainrot 💀 i also added todoroki and aizawa because why tf not (reader has kids with katsuki, and a kid with todoroki and aizawa— either adopted or not, your choice tbh. they still created an entire family tree) but they/them pronouns used

basically— the years after forty, with katsuki 🧍‍♀️(oh, and bnha war arc manga spoilers for aizawa.)

after your child officially moved out of the house, you regularly found solace in katsuki— which sounds odd, considering that his public image looked like he’d do anything but that. but you disagree. it’s very,, him.

fifty year old katsuki, who raises an eyebrow when you remark that you can see strands of silver peaking out his already light mesh of hair.

“didn’t know it was possible for blondies like you to even gray.”

“shut the hell up.”

katsuki says that— minus the usual bark, of course. but, when you ask him if he wants to dye his hair to cover said grays, he says no. because deep down, he’s aware that it’s proof that he’s actually growing older with you, and yes— he’s slowly living in the future seventeen year old katsuki desired. (he still wants it, don’t get me wrong.)

katsuki, who you would’ve guessed to start piping down, the minute he turned fifty, or transitioned into his late fifties— or the moment his back stopped doing him favors, or the moment he retired from being a hero.

nope, not at all. he’s still quite the same— despite being naturally softer towards you.

katsuki— who yells at you, because his ears weren’t picking up sound like how they used to— but you’re never intimidated. always exclaims for your attention with the softest eyes one sixty year old could have.

you shout back, of course— mirroring his look.

katsuki— who’s now sixty, and who’s back, and bones are getting worse by the day. insists that he’s fine, but by the sounds of his exasperated sighs whenever he accidentally turns a little too hard, you’re doing him wonders here.

because of these said issues, the two of you ended up buying a second bed. your marriage wasn’t struggling or anything— his back was 💀 and you wanted him to feel comfortable, you have all the time in the world to hug him.

katsuki rightfully disagrees though, from the way he glared at you, and then wordlessly flopped on his bed.

okay, let’s have a twenty five age jump here. the two of you are now in your mid to late eighties, accomplishing that drunken promise the two of you made on your wedding night—

the promise of surpassing the normal life expectancy, together.

katsuki would like to celebrate the achievement with a drink, but who’s he kidding— he’s worried that it’s going to have a toll on your health. he wouldn’t be any better anyway. to risk taker, spontaneous katsuki bakugou, a bottle of alcohol isn’t worth the risk of a heart attack.

the two of you end up celebrating by sitting next to each other.

back to the topic of children— at this point, the two of you are great-great-grandparents. your child has children of their own, and those children have children. the two of you still send cards

“that’s your third card this month, it’s my turn!”

“oh please, i’m doing them a favor— they’re lucky to have me as a great-great-grandparent.”

the two of you are basically that elderly couple that young kids like to look at in the park— and be like “me and who?”

everyone can agree that you and katsuki are the couple that has been married the longest. those middle school relationships are nothing compared to what the two of you have 🤩‼️

the two of you hit your nineties, and that dreadful question pops up again.

“who’s dying first?”

twenty year old katsuki says “definitely not me.” but ninety year old katsuki says “definitely me.”

because he rather not live a world without you in it, even if it he’s sure that it’ll sting.

shouto, who crawls into your arms— when your youngest child moves out of the house. it reminds him of the time where it was just the two of you, in the big house he bought on a whim.

shouto, who decided to not mope for long, because he realizes that he could use this time to spend more time with you.

shouto, who wakes up one day at fifty years old, with ten more gray hairs than usual— his friend, bakugou, says he should do everyone a favor and just dye his hair. doesn’t end up taking his advice, because you said it looked nice.

shouto, who didn’t think it was possible for someone like you to soar right into his life.

if shouto thought he reached the peak, the limit of loving someone when he was fifteen, then he was breaking through the limit, now that he’s sixty— watching you search the room for some oil

“you don’t have to,” he mutters, when you make him get comfortable on the couch, “i could be sending our grandchildren some pictures right now.”

“your back is hurting, and it’s too late to go the massage parlor, or get a chiropractor.” you state the truth, “you need this.”

shouto, who doesn’t age like your regular sixty year old— somewhat looks younger at that age, but frowns when you fuss about aging faster than him. it doesn’t matter to him. you’re still you at the end of the day.

shouto, who literally makes a tantrum at seventy, when you buy a separate bed— all thanks to the state of his back. says it’s not necessary, and tries at least once a week to sneak into your bed (he always fails.)

shouto, who can now accurately guess what type of food you craved for dinner— just by your body language. you don’t know how he does it, but you’re amazed.

shouto, who’s shit at cooking, tries cooking that new recipe the two of you found online— all without his UA friends’ help this time. ends up almost burning the kitchen, when a pot surprised poor seventy year old shouto.

shouto, who actually hates yelling at you— but has to because sheesh, his ears are something else. always manages to brush his hand against yours as an apology. (you understand)

shouto, who does rock paper scissors with you, to determine who sends a card to their grandchildren, and their great grandchildren. even if you end up winning, he still sends multiple selfie cards of his own.

shouto, who again— is oddly more adventurous than younger shouto. who isn’t afraid of making blunt comments, who isn’t afraid of softly dancing to a pop song with you in the living room, who’s actually 10x funnier than before— and lowkey likes to use his elderly status as an advantage.

“what do you mean, you ran out of soba?”

“i’m sorry, sir shouto—”

“this is maltreatment of the elderly. get me your supervisor.”

“i deeply apologize, sir shouto—”

“i’m joking. i’ll stop by with Y/N in a few days.”

shouto, who’s left thinking about his remaining time on earth, now that he’s ninety. who likes to change the subject whenever someone asks if you’re still around, and who’s going first

because you are. why should he start dwelling on that part of life? it hasn’t even happened yet.

but shouto thinks— if it were up to him, he’d like to go when you go, even when he knows it’s not really possible. he can’t fathom the idea of attending your funeral, nope.

shouta wasn’t exactly in his teenage years when he met you— like yeah, he was in his twenties. but, you made him feel like he was a naïve teenager, again.

and he hoped he would never meet a person like that— but he can’t seem to be complaining, now that he’s been married to you for decades.

shouta, who was literally a handicap at thirty one, now sixty one, insists that it is unnecessary that you have to help him with his aching back— saying that “there was never a time where it didn’t hurt” as a coverup

“hm, sounds like there’s a deeper problem then, love.”

“no, the world has simply gotten too soft.”

shouta, who is secretly grateful, because he rather not go to a complete stranger for help regarding his aching back💀

shouta, who’s silent when you buy a new bed, but ends up circling and glaring at it, like an angry shark, because he honestly doesn’t want to sleep in a separate bed, even complains out loud about it. but lets be real, he needs this more than anyone else

shouta, who’s seventy and has to be held back by you, because he sometimes goes back to the mindset where eri’s seven years old, when she in fact, has kids 🧍‍♀️

shouta— who practically does the same to your kid, but ends up calming down when you remind him of his dear grandchildren

shouta— who sometimes forgets to send cards, but regularly appears in your grandchildren’s galleries, because he remembers to send them photos at least

shouta— that engages with deep conversations at the most random times. it sometimes bothers you, but from the way he talks like he’s made some groundbreaking discovery, you can’t really tell him to shut up.

shouta, who’s kind of like the blind dude from don’t breathe, minus the bad stuff 💀

shouta, who regularly tries a new recipe with you, despite saying it’s unnecessary. always ends up adding the recipe onto his growing list of favorite dishes.

shouta, who has to yell at you because now his ears are failing him— but still ends up rubbing them after said yelling, as an apology.

shouta— who tries not to think about the inevitable, which is demise. he’d like to think that there is something after your departure, but whenever he tries to think of one, he can’t.

shouta— for now, tries to enjoy the rest of his life. the life he assumed was too tiring, or full of pain was long forgotten, thanks to you, and his family tree, plus his class children.

[masterjedilenawrites]

I’m not good at making requests, so forgive me if anything come out wrong.

But, could you do something were reader and Tech are fixing some eletronics and listening to cientific things, and start talking about a wrong thing people said there, so they get distracted and when realize, they’re in to a awkward position (like him btween her legs or sth like that)

I love your writing and thanks (: <3

Omg I've been so soft for Tech lately and this prompt is perfect 💚 I hope this is what you were looking for, I really enjoyed writing it!

Tech x reader | 2k words

...making bacta the most important scientific achievement in history...

"Dank farrik," Tech huffed beside you.

You came out of your daze at the sudden exclamation and looked at your friend with concern, trying to quickly figure out what had gone wrong. You were helping him with a project, though what it was exactly you weren't completely certain of. All you knew was it involved digging into the walls of the ship and untangling a lot of wires. You'd been instructed to hold onto several of them, keeping them pulled taught out of the wall so Tech could fiddle with the other ends, and the dullness of the task had caused your mind to wander.

"What's wrong?" you asked, doubtful you'd understand any explanation, but wanting to be sure you hadn't done anything to mess up his progress.

He waved a hand at you dismissively, not pulling his attention away from the work in front of him. "Just the radio," he mumbled.

You hadn't been paying attention; it had only been turned on as background noise to keep you from going insane with boredom. And since it was tuned into some kind of scientific news frequency, you didn't really understand much of what was being said anyway.

...with the most influential application simply being in the field of medicine, providing us higher life forms with a versatile tool in maintaining our quality of life, and potentially even prolonging it...

Tech huffed again. Scoffed. Your mouth quirked at how upset he was getting. It was kind of cute.

But, you had to debate whether engaging with his frustration would be worth it. He had only recently calmed down from his outburst earlier that day, the only time you had ever seen him genuinely upset. Wrecker had accidentally knocked over a piece of machinery that was... well, something very important, apparently. No one was too sure. But Tech had spent most of the week carefully arranging its parts just-so, so that when all his hard work went crashing onto the floor, his breathing had suddenly resembled that of a charging Nexu. He'd drawn himself up, trying to match his brother's height, and ordered the poor guy to never step foot in this part of the ship again. The other Batchers had tried to defend him and were subsequently banned as well.

That left you as the only option for help.

Maybe that meant he wouldn't kick you out for debating him....

"Sounds like they're saying some pretty reasonable things. Am I missing something?"

Tech's fingers, which had been deftly working through the wires before him, clipping some and splicing others, finally froze. The clone's face tilted over to you, his eyes looking a little too judgmental through those glasses for your liking.

"You think bacta is the most important scientific achievement?" he asked. You didn't like his tone, either.

You scrunched your mouth in thought, actually giving the question serious consideration. While you mulled it over, Tech stood up from his hunched position in the wall and started pulling on some of the wires, unraveling them from their tangled mess.

"Yeah," you finally decided. "I think medicine in general is pretty important. And bacta specifically is the strongest known substance to deliver fast and effective healing."

Tech was mostly focused on the wires, but he spared you a glance.

"And treating symptoms is the most important thing for humanity? Here, hold this." He added another wire for you to hold in your hands.

You knew it was a loaded question so you chose to answer it with one of your own. "Well if it's not bacta or medicine, then what would it be?"

"Electricity," he said quickly and assertively, as if it was the most obvious thing in the galaxy. He continued to focus more on his work and you were annoyed he didn't seem to want to offer up an explanation to his opinion, despite having made you give one. He'd finally untangled the wires and was back to leaning into the cavern in the wall and setting them into their proper places.

"Why electricity?" You hated how dumb your question sounded; obviously you understood the concept and understood its importance. You just really wanted to challenge him to give you some explanations.

"For one, most medicines would not be able to be mass-produced were it not for the electrically-run vats in which they are made." He held his hand out behind him and made a grabbing motion. "Blue, please."

You sorted out the blue wire and passed it over.

"For another," he continued, his voice sounding distant as he leaned further away into the wall, "we must ask what constitutes a quote-unquote important achievement. For example, is an achievement worthy of the title simply because it improves our quality of life? Green, please."

You handed over the corresponding wire. "I'd say it's more about preserving life. Even outside of war, there's enough injury and illness that would end life were it not for medicine to heal them."

"Ah, but in that same reasoning, electricity also sustains life. It powers sources of light and warmth, which can also provide a means of boiling water and cooking food. All keys to survival. Yellow, please."

"So does fire," you shot back. "People survived long before electricity, and there's still plenty of civilizations living fine without it."

Tech finally emerged from the wall and took the last few wires from you, the red and black ones. He met your eyes with an earnestness that let you know how much he was enjoying this conversation. "And people have survived without medicine. At least the manufactured forms that you're arguing for, like bacta. Traditional medicine is as sufficient as fire."

Before you could respond, Tech moved to the side, motioning toward the wall with his head and holding up the remaining wires.

"Now, unfortunately these last ones need to be clipped in down below. I'm not able to fit through the lattice of the floor, but someone of your stature easily could."

You stepped forward and peered down. It was a mess of machinery and pipes and beams, but you could clearly see the port where the wires had been yanked out earlier. You knelt down, resting your stomach on the edge of the wall, but paused before bending over.

"If it wasn't for bacta, you wouldn't have been born." You were confident in your comeback and thus didn't linger for his reaction, turning to bend down into the ship with your wires instead.

You were disappointed to hear his soft chuckle from above you.

"And what do you think powers the bacta tanks that hold the clone embryos?"

You were glad he couldn't see the frustrated frown on your face. While you tried to think of a new point in your debate, you snapped the red wire into the proper port. But then you realized you couldn't quite reach the black one, and started carefully shimmying forward, deeper into the wall.

"It seems we have circled back to the initial question," Tech offered in your silence. You felt his hands hold on to your hips, steadying you as your legs lifted from the floor, most of your body now inside the ship. You didn't think anything of it, though, your focus split between your task and his words. "What makes an achievement the most important? Both medicine and electricity are capable of preserving life, but neither are essential to survival. So, what criteria are we left with?"

You were finally within reach of the last port and pushed the wire into it. "Sounds like you already have the right answer, so why don't you stop teasing me and just say it?" you called up to him.

"I...I didn't mean to sound like I was teasing."

You could hear the apology in his voice, how truly caught off guard he was to hear that you had perceived his attempts at a friendly debate, a conversation, as mocking or disrespectful. Your stomach knotted up in guilt, making your journey to wiggle back out of the wall a little more difficult.

"I'm sorry, Tech," you said through a grunt as you tried to push yourself back. "I didn't mean to sound rude. I just don't know the answer."

You felt his arms snake around your middle, pulling you the last of the way out. You came to rest on your knees, breathing heavily at the sudden increase in air supply. Tech was crouched alongside you, his chest against part of your back, his arms still holding you.

"I honestly don't know the answer, either," he blinked down at you, speaking quietly. "I don't know what criteria would constitute the most important scientific achievement. I thought maybe we could figure it out if we kept discussing it."

You craned your neck around to look at him, unconcerned about the discomfort it took to do so. You needed to face him fully. "Or... maybe we don't need to figure it out? I mean, does there need to be one achievement labeled more important than any other? Can they not all be valued equally?"

"I suppose..." he relented. But only a little. "It is a fun thought exercise, though."

You smiled at that, and it made your heart flutter a little to see him return the expression. There were a few seconds between you where you sat pleasantly in each other's arms... before the realization hit that you were in each other's arms.

"Uh," Tech stuttered first. His eyes looked about frantically as if the more he saw of you practically sitting in his lap, the more he would know what to do about it.

Your face was hot and your heart thumped forcefully in your chest. But you weren't panicking. Even though you'd been around the Bad Batch for a while now, this was the first time you'd gotten physically close to any of them, especially this dorky genius, who made you feel just a little better about life than the others did. You hadn't been sure why, not until this moment, your face being mere inches away from his own. Now it clicked.

His arms had removed themselves from your frame and he was starting to crawl backward on the floor. You quickly grasped his shoulder to stop him.

"Tech, wait."

He froze, looking at you with wide, apprehensive eyes. His shoulder was tense so you relaxed your grasp and simply let your hand rest on it gently. You gave him a small smile. Thankfully these little gestures were enough encouragement for him to lean back to you. He still looked at you timidly, but he wasn't pulling away anymore. It seemed like maybe he had been feeling the same things about you.

"Yes?"

He was waiting for you to make the next move.

"So, this project," you stalled, needing just a little more time to work up the courage. "What is it again? Why did I just crawl into the bowels of the ship?"

Your face was creeping closer to his, breath gently fanning across each other, warm but refreshing.

"I... I..." Tech seemed to be short-circuiting. "I was just, uh, re... redecorating."

Your nose had just brushed his when you suddenly frowned and moved back to look at him questioningly. "Redecorating... wires?"

You were very amused at how flustered he seemed to be in this situation. But then the tables turned as Tech rolled with it.

"Yeah, I didn't like the way they looked in there. Wanted to change things up. You know me."

The smile on our face spread as he talked and you couldn't hold back your laughter any longer. You bent forward, resting your forehead in the crook of his neck while your body convulsed with giggles. Tech laughed along, bringing his arms back around you to hold you in place. When you finally looked up at him and the shit-eating grin he had plastered on his face, you knew you'd finally found your courage.

"Oh, Tech..." you chided, pressing your smiling lips against his own.

[hockeyboysimagines]

Can you do fuck up the friendship with Tyler Seguin ? ♡

This was so fun! I’m so glad someone requested this song for him because he’s exactly who I wanted to write it for. Thanks so much and enjoy!-💕

Warnings: sex and implied sex.

Are you gonna kiss me?/‘Cause you're taking me homeIt's four in the morning/Are we doing this wrong?/This weekend I saw you/Through eyes that are new/You got me falling for you/And I kinda want to (want to)

Tell me what you mean/Is it all me? (Ah ah ah ah ah ah)/Start to overthink everything (Ah ah ah ah ah ah)/When you're close to me, I can't breathe (Ah ah ah ah ah ah)/We're already six-feet deep/Let's fuck up the friendship/Come get in my head/Baby, cut the tension/I'm hung by a thread

Maybe it's something/But let's not pretend/Or maybe it's nothing/And this is the end

“All I’m saying is you guys look good together.” Jamie said giving Tyler a mischievous smile. Tyler rolled his eyes and waved him off.

“Come on Dude. You mean to tell me you don’t think she’s hot?”

“Of course I do. She’s fucking gorgeous, but she’s my friend.”

“You guys flirt all the time.”

“I flirt with you all the time too Big Rig, maybe I should ask you on a date. ”

“I mean if you insist-“

“Enough you two Jesus!” Roope said shushing them both and shaking his head “If he doesn’t wanna ask her out then leave him alone.” Jamie wasn’t wrong. He did want to take her out but he wasn’t so sure she felt the same about him. Being flirty people it was hard sometimes to tell the difference between what was real and what wasn’t, so he pushed it out of his mind and admired her from a friend standpoint.

“Thank you.” Tyler said taking a drag from his beer bottle. She was standing about ten feet away absorbed in an intense game of beer pong that had been going for a while. She and Esa were partners and had been the reigning champs for over two hours. As if she felt him looking at her she turned to smile at him, and without looking tossed the ball and sank it into the final cup, winning the game. With a screech Esa came flying around the table lifting her up over his shoulder and took a victory lap around the living room. When he finally set her down, she came over and accepted a high five from Jamie.

“Nice game.” Tyler said holding up a beer. She had on this tight little white tank top and these dark jeans and he wanted nothing more than to rub the beer bottle all over her exposed skin.

Wait what? He shook his head, and felt heat creep up his neck.

“Nah. I actually have to get going it’s almost 4 in the morning.”

“I’ll take you.” He piped up before anyone else could offer. She smiled and went to say goodbye to her friends as Tyler trailed behind her. He tried really hard not to stare at her ass, but he couldn’t help himself. He had always looked at her different but the guys on his team had been pushing the idea extra hard lately. He was mostly silent as he drove her home, and as they walked to her front door. The streets were dead, as they should be at 3:50 in the morning, the only sounds coming from the highway and the occasional car that rolled down the street.

“Are you okay?” She asked when they reached the door. She leaned against it, keys hanging loosely in her hand.

“Fine why?” She shrugged “Your unusually quiet.”

He bit his lip. It was now or never “The guys are just kind of riding me that’s all.”

“About me?” Tyler froze, eyes moving slowly over to hers. How could she know? Fucking big mouth Jamie no doubt had said something to her. She started laughing.

“You guys are all extremely loud.” Tyler laughed nervously and looked at his feet “Yeah they just like to tease me is all. Sorry about them. We’re friends right? I don’t wanna mess that up.”

She shrugged and cocked her head to the side “I kinda do.”

She had this look, a look he had never seen before. Tension hung thick and heavy in the air. It sent a chill down his spine and into his other extremities and before he knew it he had crossed the porch, and pulled her into a heated kiss. It never occurred to him that this would completely fuck their friendship up, and if it hadn’t he wouldn’t have cared.

She was tugging at the button on his jeans when he reached around her to unlock the door and they disappeared inside, not even able to make it to her bedroom.

We could never be (oh, no)/We could never be friends/We could never be (oh, no)/We could never be friends

It got kind of scary/My bones always knew/Oh, I didn't mean to/Are you feeling this, too?/Tell me what you mean/Is it all me? (Ah ah ah ah ah ah)/Start to overthink everything (Ah ah ah ah ah ah)

When you're close to me, I can't breathe (Ah ah ah ah ah ah)/We're already six-feet deep

Let's fuck up the friendship/Come get in my head/Baby, cut the tension/I'm hung by a thread/Maybe it's something/But let's not pretend/Or maybe it's nothing/And this is the end

We could never be (oh, no)/We could never be friends/We could never be (oh, no)/We could never be friends

She was thoroughly over sexed and exhausted by the time Tyler made his way from her house the next morning but she felt good. The flirtatious behavior had always been there but it had finally come to a head. She would be lying if she had said she hadn’t enjoyed what had happened but now that she came down from her high she had realized that maybe that was all it was. Tyler was in her head now.

Was she just a hookup? Surely he cared about her more than that. Did she want to be more than that? She rubbed her forehead and sighed, feeling the effects of beer pong, and sex start to catch up with her. Flyers cologne still hung in the air, and she sighed. It was both enthralling and intoxicating to be in the presence of Tyler Seguin. He funny and good looking, and the charm was always laid on thick for just about anyone. But she didn’t miss the way he seemed to bend over backwards for her in particular. She had always assumed it was because she was a conquest he wouldn’t ever achieve, and here she was completely ruined by him for any other guy going forward.

She felt her phone buzz and pulled it up to see a text.

I really enjoyed last night….but what does this mean for us?

She drummed her fingers on the nightstand and typed out a reply.

Let’s find out later tonight.

From that point on a beautiful and complicated situation was born. While they loved to be around eachother, they kept things under wraps. But the days turned into nights filled with sex, quick meetups after practice and a lot of secrecy.

Now that they were having actual sex, the tension and the flirting was worse than ever. Roope raised his eyebrows at them as the flirty banter between them turned sexual one night, and shook his head.

“Jesus.” He mumbled elbowing Esa who was pretending not to listen “Get a room.” She smiled and leaned in to whisper,

“Maybe we should.” She disappeared through the crowd leaving Tyler to face his friends.

“Are you guys fucking?” Jamie asked squinting at him.

“What? No.” Tyler said. Someone called his name and he was thankful to be pulled from the conversation before he had to lie to them. He was even more anxious to leave this party to Y/N could call his name later that night.

On the edge of my seat/I'll wait for the outcome/If we ever have one (if we ever have one)/Let me take the lead/You follow me closely/But come on and show me (come on and show me)

Let's fuck up the friendship/Come get in my head/Baby, cut the tension/I'm hung by a thread/Maybe it's something/But let's not pretend/Or maybe it's nothing/And this is the end (woo)

We could never be (oh, no)/We could never be friends/We could never be (oh, no)/We could never be friends (friends)

Tyler felt himself falling hard and fast, something he swore he would never do. Things had changed from the night of the first hookup. The relationship between them began to feel more like dating than friends with benefits. Tyler wasn’t sure how to approach the subject and ask her how she felt, but it had to be said.

“Do you wanna go out on a date?” He blurted out one day, immediately slapping a hand over his mouth.

“What?”

“I said do you want to go out on a date?”

“A date? Like a couple? Tyler I thought this was like a friend-“

“We’ve never been just friends and you know it.” He looked so good, long tattooed arms braced behind him, T-shirt right across his chest. Her feelings for him had gone beyond sex, and way beyond friendship.

“Come on.” He said good naturedly, giving her a smile “Lemme take you out.”

She bit her lip and nodded “Okay Tyler Seguin. Take me on a date. Maybe we’ll never have to be friends again.”

“We could never be friends.”

[pinkliquorstyles]

Depravity.

Warnings: dirty talk, a sprinkle of smut, alcohol use, angst, and a whole lot of teasing.

A/n: oh, how I’ve missed writing. 

Harry craved control.

He always had some sort of power over everything in his life, onstage and off, Harry was always in control. He had a plan for every situation and a solution to every problem. He hated to be caught off guard, and it was only when he lacked that authority over his life when you could sense him falter.

So, you could imagine how Harry felt when he heard about a last-minute, extravagant party, made to celebrate his achievements and mass success from his second album.

Don’t get it twisted, although the event seemed formal on paper, it turned out to be anything but. The guest list seemed to be never-ending, as both Y/n and Harry struggled to identify who everyone was, especially, under the dim lighting.

To make matters worse, the liquor flowed through the venue like it was water. Harry could practically count on a person stumbling out of the place every two minutes as they reach their limits.

It seemed like a vision of pure depravity.

Y/n was the complete opposite of Harry, her spontaneous nature, and desire for chaos in order to keep life interesting was one of the reasons why people either loved, or completely despised her. No one could anticipate her taunting movements, and frankly, she preferred it that way.

The sound of loud chatter was drowned out by the rhythmic hums of music that loudly projected from the speakers. Harry could hear the multiple voices that attempted to catch his attention, but it seemed his focus was fixated on something else. His gaze lingered on Y/n, his eyes trailed down her body as her hips swayed in sync with the music that resounded throughout the room.

It was known by the people closest to him that Harry was possessive, especially when it came to Y/n. Whilst some people scolded him for it, he simply couldn’t help it, once Harry gets what he wants, he will do everything in his power to keep it safe.

In a short distance, away from all the chaos, Y/n saw a decorated table filled to the brim with assorted fruits and an almost mouth-watering chocolate fountain placed right in the centre of the display.

Y/n’s sweet tooth ached whilst her eyes watched the treat trickle down the machine. She made her way towards the table, softly pushing past the guests as dizziness made itself apparent on the way, presumably, from the liquor that vibrated all throughout her body.

The area she entered seemed quiet compared to the one she was previously in, with only small groups hovering around the room in their own little worlds as they talked among themselves.

Once she reached the table, she carefully went over her options, each fruit was skewered with a small toothpick. She decided on the strawberries, taking one in her hands before dipping it into a glass filled with dark chocolate. She laughed lightly to herself, as she remembered reading about how both of these foods together, created an aphrodisiac effect.

As she was about to reach for more fruit, she felt a familiar pair of strong hands grip her waist from behind. Her body erupted in goosebumps as a low voice spoke close to her ear. "You’re a dreadful tease.” A familiar deep voice broke Y/n out of her trance as she froze in his hold.

Her body relaxed as she realised who was behind her, turning around with a small smile that teased her lips. She sensed the jealousy that dripped from Harry’s voice. "I don’t know what you’re talking about, m’just dancing.” She said innocently, placing a strawberry against her lips before taking a bite.

Harry scoffed, at her almost pathetic attempt to be oblivious to her actions. “Mhm, you’re putting on quite the show aren’t you.” He hummed with slight annoyance in his tone.

Y/n glanced at the people around her, some dancing to their heart’s content while the others attempted to engage in conversation. “It’s not my problem if guys can’t keep it in their pants.” She said with a small shrug.

"You leave nothing to the imagination do you love?”

"Jealous?” Y/n quipped in a taunting tone, though, her features remained innocent. “Besides, I didn’t know it was such a crime to have fun. If so, then arrest me baby, I’m guilty as charged.”

"Fun?.” He mocked, "So you’re telling me that this performance you’ve put on wasn’t just for me to see?” His tone seemed offended, yet his teasing expression told a different story.

She playfully shook her head and attempted to hide the smile that fought to escape her lips.

"And what about this tight little number you’ve got on, is that not for me either?” He taunted curiously, his hand trailed against the small strap that held up her dress.

Her gaze followed his cold touch as his fingers travelled across her shoulder, towards her neck. A small shiver crawled up her spine as his rings pressed lightly against her skin, before grazing across her jawline.

Her head lifted slightly. Her almost pleading eyes instantly connecting with his as if it was a reflex. "You remember what happens when you play games with me princess, it never ends well for you” his thumb lightly tugging on her strawberry-stained lips.

Her pulse quickened as her mind raced with thoughts of lust. “I guess you’re going to have to remind me.” She chose her words carefully “My mind seems to be a little foggy.”

Y/n felt Harry’s demeanour change instantly at her words, it was like a switch, his playful aura was quickly replaced with one of desire, similar to the aura of this entire event.

Little did Harry know, Y/n had him right where she wanted him. Harry craved the control that he lost over their exchange, whilst Y/n craved the thrill of the unknown. The unknown of how far Harry was willing to go to win back his control over her.

A short and antagonising laugh fell from Harry’s lips. “You want to know what I’m thinking princess?” He questioned. Y/n hummed in response, her mocking tone only pushing Harry further. “I think you’re purposely trying to wind me up.” He states clearly.

“But you know what happens to princesses who misbehave?.” He murmured.

A teasing light danced in Y/n’s eyes, she shrugged lightly and attempted to turn around to get another strawberry. She was shortly cut off as Harry swiftly, and gently tugged on her wrist. He pulled her closer towards him, their faces mere inches away from each other in order to fully grab Y/n’s attention.

“Nothing.���

Harry dropped his hands from Y/n’s body, deciding to use the table beside them to support his body instead. Y/n’s expression turned into confusion at his words. This wasn’t how she planned the rest of their conversation going.

“What’s wrong princess? You’ve gone quiet.” He pointed out, a small pout evident on his lips. “Did you expect me to whisk you away to one of the rooms upstairs... punish you f’being a little brat?”

Every time she teased Harry before, he would simply delve deeper into his own desires, playing with Y/n how he saw fit as punishment.

It was a routine that Y/n loved, so why was tonight any different.

Unless...

He perked up with a boyish smile at her confused reaction, knowing her mind was scrambling for a snarky retort. “Tell y’what, I’ll give you what you want on one condition.”

She looked at him curiously, interested in what he was proposing. “And what’s that?”

“M’going to need you to beg for me.” The thought of those three, simple little words sent Harry’s mind into a tangent of his own, the flame of control flickering in his eyes as he watched her expression.

His words took a second to process in Y/n’s mind, but once they did, she realised what he was doing. Harry was using her own tactics against her, the teasing, the mischievous look in his eye and most importantly, the element of surprise.

Although it worked for a small moment, Y/n was determined, she wasn’t about to let Harry beat her at her own game.

“Beg for you?” Y/n echoed, pondering the thought over a chocolate-covered strawberry before throwing away the rest in the waste bin.

It wasn’t long before someone interrupted their conversation. They were at a party after all. An unrecognisable figure walked up behind Harry, wrapping their arms around him before placing a shot glass full of clear liquid in his hand.

“What’re you hiding out here for Harry, you’re missing out on all the fun!” The man exclaimed with excitement, clinking his own shot glass with Harry’s before downing the drink. Y/n quickly pinched the drink out of Harry’s hand, and in one swift movement, downed the liquor similarly to the man slinging himself around Harry.

A snicker escaped Harry’s lips at the sight of Y/n’s disgusted face as she examined the shot glass “Straight vodka, m’assuming.” He remarks. Y/n nods in acknowledgment, placing the glass on the table next to them before the unknown man pipes up again.

“Sorry to interrupt miss, m’sure whatever you two were talking about was truly exhilarating but Harry here, is a busy man.” He slurs, tapping Harry on the shoulder. “People to meet, drinks to... drink? Anyways, you understand.”

Y/n eyed Harry curiously, he simply shrugged as they both realised that the mystery man next to them had no clue about their relationship and simply assumed that Y/n was just a random girl Harry was swooning over.

She chuckled lightly, “Don’t let me get in your way, go have fun.” She reached out, softly squeezing Harry’s arm as reassurance. The man already started to make his way back to the dance floor, expecting Harry to be following behind him.” What are you waiting for-?”

Before Y/n was able to let go of Harry he gently pulled her closer towards him, closing the small gap between them as her body collided with his. “I was going to say, I wouldn’t waste another moment thinking about it princess...” He trailed off, his rings roughly digging into the thin material of her dress as he held her in place.

“We both know you’re just going to end up begging for me to fuck you.” Harry’s hold hastily dropped from her hips, before walking away. A small smirk was evident on his lips as he sensed the state of shock he left Y/n in.

She watched in pure disbelief as he wandered back into the loud venue, but despite of it all, she couldn’t deny the feeling of adrenaline that coursed through her body at his words.

With an annoyed sigh, Y/n focused her attention back on the many strawberries in front of her, snatching one from the plate. "If that’s how he wants to play it...” She murmured before taking a bite out of the sweet fruit before carelessly discarding the rest.

“Then let the games begin.”

———

The night progressed as Y/n and Harry went their separate ways, mingling and causing mischief with the other guests.

Although they seemed to be in their own little worlds, they were both aware of each others presence. Whether that was through the overwhelming exhilaration that emanated from the both of them, or their teasing gazes as their eyes met at random times throughout the night.

After what felt like hours to Y/n of endless dancing, she decided that it was time to spice things up, feeling bored of waiting for Harry to make a move.

Her eyes scanned the room, eventually falling to the bar that didn’t seem too far away from her. She slowly made her way past the people in front of her, before reaching the busy service, waving down the bartender in the process.

“What a coincidence! We’ve found each other once again miss!” The familiar slurred voice spoke at a high volume from beside her, causing Y/n to flinch at the sudden noise "Seems like fate is trying t’tell us something.”

Y/n turned towards the man, her mind taking a second to process his features. ‘Oh it’s the guy from before... did I ever get his name?’ She pondered to herself

Noticing the evident confusion on her face, he piped up with a chuckle “I guess I didn’t properly introduce m’self did I? M’names Kai.”

She hummed in acknowledgment “So you’re the one that tried to poison Harry with that dreadful drink.”

“I guess that’s one way to be remembered.” He remarked in an attempt to be charming. “You two seem close though.”

You don’t know the half of it. She thought to herself, before speaking up with a smile, “I guess you could say that, my name’s Y/n by the way.”

———

Harry wasn’t much of a dancer. The only exception is for when he performs. Which caused him to spend most of the night in the booth that he reside in from the beginning of the event. The small space seemed to be full of his friends and co-workers as they chat up a storm, a continuous supply of drinks being served to the group.

The elevated booth allowed him to view the guests dance the night away. Which is how he was able to spot Y/n in the crowded dance-floor.

He watched as the man Harry was introduced to as ‘Kai’ stood dangerously close to Y/n as they swayed to the music and continued with their small talk.

Harry didn’t mind at first, not taking much note of the whole interaction. He loved seeing Y/n have fun. It was only once he noticed that she leaned closer towards Kai, whispering in his ear, a sultry “Please.” as she requested for one last drink, that their interaction caught his attention.

She moved back, re-gaining the small space between the two of them. Of course, she was hyper-aware of the fact that Harry knew about the whole exchange, flickering her eyes to his with a taunting smile.

Kai followed her gaze before spotting Harry, a boyish grin fell onto his lips as he sent Harry a cheeky thumbs-up. It was as if he had scored the best take of the night whilst somehow still being oblivious to the fact that Harry was utterly in love with the woman he was swooning over.

Harry shook his head, purely baffled by the whole exchange. “Dickhead.” He muttered under his breath. The rings that were wrapped around his fingers hit the glass with a small ‘clink’ as he took ahold of his drink, downing it all in one go.

———

"Tell you what, sit your pretty self down while I go flag down that bartender over there.” Kai motioned towards one of the seats with a smile before making his way to the other end of the bar.

Y/n nodded, letting out a tired sigh as he walked away. She felt herself getting worn out by the lack of attention she was getting from Harry, but, as annoyed as she was, she was determined to win this little game that Harry’s made up for the both of them.

“If he wasn’t so stubborn then maybe-.” Y/n muttered, getting ready to take a seat at the bar before being cut off by the feeling of a sudden grip around her wrist. With a small tug, she was twirled around to face the person that held her captive in their hold.

A small giggle fell from her lips as her body smoothly fell into the familiar figure’s build.

“Having fun princess?”

His voice caused a shiver to course through her body, small goosebumps forming on her skin at the harshness of his tone.

Y/n lazily wrapped her arms around Harry, unintentionally using him to support her own intoxicated body “Took you long enough. I was starting to think you forgot about me.”

"Never.” He boyishly grinned, feeling smitten knowing that Y/n had him on her mind as much as he did for her all night.

Although the music still resounded around the room, the tune that played was much slower. So much so that Harry and Y/n noticed the tipsy guests begin coupling up as an attempt to dance with one another.

Y/n softly rested her head against Harry’s shoulder as his hands rested on her waist. Her eyes fluttering close as she felt herself get lost in the song “Mind telling what that whole charade was about ?” Harry hummed closely, possessiveness laced in his voice.

Y/n quickly picked up that he was talking about Kai. She playfully scoffed, lifting her head from his shoulder to look at him. “I was getting bored and you weren’t paying me any attention. Besides, I knew your jealousy would get the better of you eventually.”

Harry let out a small laugh at her seemingly meticulous plans. "You know all you had to do was come find me.” He affirmed.

Feelings of guilt were getting the better of Y/n as she pondered whether or not she took all of this too far. "Are you upset with me?” She said with a small pout.

“Of course not princess, m’not upset with you.” He comfortingly squeezed her waist for a small moment, both of them swaying to the soft beat of the song.

I just wanted to you to tell me how needy you were f’me.” He murmured lowly, making sure that the people dancing around them didn’t hear.

All the feelings of concern were immediately washed away from Y/n, quickly being replaced with a mixture of relief and playfulness.

“You know I’m not going to break that easy, you’re going to have t’try harder than that if you want me to say such a thing.” She huffed.

“Is that so?” Harry mocked, making a mental note of her words. "What about if I...” He trailed off. His head dipped down as he peppered wet kisses all the way to her exposed shoulder, making sure to lightly suck on the delicate skin as if he wanted to leave his mark on her.

Y/n gave into the taunting feeling for a small moment, her eyes closing as Harry had his way with her. “You shouldn’t be doing this.” She remarked.

He pulled away, a boyish chuckle escaping his lips. “Are y’scared your little friend over there will see.” He motioned towards Kai, who seemed to have been caught up on his path to the bar. Another girl danced with him as he held two drinks in his hand with seemingly, not a care in the world “I wouldn’t worry about him.”

"That’s not what I meant, silly.” She clarified, referring to the small love bites that she felt forming across her pulsating skin.

His fingers lightly grazed over her neck. “Wouldn’t be the first time I’ve left a pretty little mark on you princess.” He noted, admiring his work. His voice alone was enough to send Y/n into a spiral of lust. Her mind was in scrambles as she fought the tempting urge to give into Harry’s desires.

Although the slow song finished, another bass-heavy one played in its place. Y/n could tell the night was coming to a close as people slowly made their way to the exit, or, were celebrating their last round of drinks. This meant Y/n only had about an hour or so to decide whether or not she would continue to be stubborn, proving to Harry that she’s not as submissive as he makes her out to be.

"You’re thinking about it aren’t you?” Harry glanced at a distracted Y/n, a teasing curiosity evident in his features. “A few words princess, that’s all it takes.” 

Y/n snapped out of her trance, realising she was slowly succumbing to Harry. She took a deep breath, and in an attempt to regain her control, gently wrapped her hands around the back of Harry’s neck, making their way up to his messy curls. Her fingers wrapped around the strands of hair, giving it a small tug as the both of them continued to sway to the music.  “Let’s say I was thinking about it, what would you do about that?” 

Harry hummed lowly at the pleasurable feeling of her soft touch on his skin. In that moment, he decided not to waste another second of his attention on anyone other than Y/n. "Then, I would bring you upstairs... play with you until you’re nothing but a whimpering mess.

His hands tightening around her waist. His rings slightly dug into her skin, the cold metal seeping through the thin material of her dress causing a wave of goosebumps to wash over her. “You’re already aching for me. Imagine how you’ll feel with your legs wrapped around me.”

Harry left small kisses across her jawline, returning to his sweet yet torturous assault from before. “You would plead for your release as I bring you right to the edge, telling you all about how much of a good girl you’ve been, all submissive and needy, just how I like.” Y/n could feel herself growing hot from his taunting movements as she unintentionally began to bite at her lip, suppressing any moans that threatened to escape.

“But you haven’t really been a good girl have you, princess? I would say you’ve been quite the brat all night.” His kisses edged closer and closer before finally, his lips firmly pressed against hers. A small moment was needed, but it wasn’t long before Y/n moved in sync with his own movements, a new sense of lust overpowering her senses as she deepened the kiss, a mix of alcohol and peppermint lingering on their tongues. 

Harry noticed her newfound pushiness, the roughness of the kiss causing a gruff and low groan to escape from the back of his throat. “Do you remember what I said about little brats that don’t listen?” His gaze on Y/n as he begrudgingly pulled away from her, his lips merely hovering above her own.

Y/n let out a frustrated whimper at the sudden loss of contact, her eyes fluttering open with confusion.

"You would plead for your release...” Harry repeated. A taunting fire danced his eyes, a confident smirk creeping onto his lips. “Only for me to pull away right at the last moment.”

Y/n wanted to smack the smug grin right off of his face, but she just seemed defeated, her expression changed to one of frustration as her hands fell from Harry. 

"Don’t look at me like that, you brought this on yourself princess.” He teased, giving her one last chaste kiss. “Y’know you could still-”

He was shortly cut off by the sound of Y/n’s annoyed voice. "Fine!” she snapped, just at a low enough volume so people wouldn’t hear, while she attempted to catch her unsteady breath. “...fine.”

Even though Harry knew exactly what she was going to say, he still tilted his head with a pout, curiosity written on his face as he waited for Y/n to continue her thought. 

"You win.” She murmured, refusing to look Harry in the eye as she admitted her defeat.

Harry shook his head, admiring her features. He gently pushed the strands of hair that covered her face, placing it back behind her shoulders. "Not good enough, use your words princess. ‘Want to hear you beg for me.” His voice remained low, his warm breath causing a shiver down her spine.

Y/n let out a small and exaggerated sigh, as a smile teased her lips. She knew she was going to succumb to Harry eventually. In fact, she knew the moment he swept her into his arms that the game was over, but, she loved the chaos too much to ever admit that to him.

She gave him one small kiss before pulling him closer towards her. Their eyes met, both clearly filled with desire and lust, only difference was the dominating aura from Harry’s features, and the submissiveness that radiated from Y/n.

"I need you, m’so needy for your touch... Please baby...”

That, was a true vision of pure depravity.

[saturnsummer]

the fairytale she never had (will you believe again?)

when sol is invited to a wedding, sol doesn’t think her best friend would follow her. 

aka: solhwi attending a wedding

notes: it just struck me one day, and i really wanted them to see each other outside of the law school moments! while law school defines them, they are certainly people with social activities.

 i adapted this from a similar prompt i saw from a fic many years ago for a separate fandom, and i always wanted to write something similar. this was honestly not met to be multi-part, but i write too much anyways. so multi-part it will be.

 also, it might sound depressing in the initial part where sol is talking about the wedding invitation, but it gets explained later on. 

as always, enjoy! any grammar mistakes and all will be taken fully responsible by me!

ao3 link

words: 4135 words

I: 我愿变成童话里, 你爱的那个天使 (i am willing to be the angel of that fairytale you love)

--title inspired by fairytale (童话) by Michael Wong!--

Sol absolutely hates weddings. 

She hated the big social crowds, the way drunk men in tuxedos staggered around with women in one arm and a drink in another. She found no purpose in dressing in lavish gowns, then eating dinner for the next two hours without even feeling full. 

Sol couldn’t blame anyone but herself for this. She can’t help but remember her mother’s failed marriages. The way her biological father left them in the middle of the night, with all their hard earned savings. The way her stepfather, Byeol’s father, would come home drunk and violent towards her mother. It was a memory she couldn’t erase. More than a decade later, she still wakes up in a cold sweat, worrying for her mother and small Byeol’s life. 

She long ago gave up on the concept of love back then. She wasn’t opposed to anyone dating or talking about it, and she certainly didn’t mind short flings. But marriage? Eternal love? The fairytale that everyone hopes to achieve? Sol threw those ideas out of the window. 

So when Sol received a thick, cream-coloured card and envelope, embossed with rose gold foil and flowers, a pretty silver wax seal and her name written in careful strokes of a calligraphy brush, she was stumped. 

Her friend, Im Jiyoon, was getting married. Jiyoon was a good friend of Sol’s, and they occasionally met up for quick meals. Jiyoon was an accountant and climbing the ranks in her company. They lost contact for a period when Sol was in juvie, but they reconnected when Sol was just starting law school. It was only polite that Jiyoon extended invitations to her high school classmate. 

Sol had mixed feelings. The wedding was on a Friday night, which made things good since she didn’t have to wake up early, fitting her schedule properly. But she had nothing to wear. She could borrow a dress and shoes from Yeseul, but the last time she borrowed a shoe from Yeseul, she almost broke her ankle. And she had so much work to catch up on. Yet, not showing up felt rude of her. 

Jiyoon was nice, don’t get her wrong. She was smart, resourceful and lovely to be with in high school. Sol wanted nothing more than for her high school friend to marry the love of her life. But she hasn't been to such social events in years, and being so focussed on school, the legal clinic and contributing to her family, she found it difficult to understand why she needed to go, besides doing it out of courtesy. 

“What’s that?” A familiar voice pipes from behind, drawing her out of her thoughts. There’s the familiar shuffling of several pairs of feet as Sol turns her attention to the one who spoke. Behind her, was Han Joon Hwi with his bag just being set on the table. The rest of the group was just settling in for another study session.

“Ah, nothing important.” She monotonously says before sliding the card in her files. Joon Hwi’s hands catch the card before she can slide it fully and stop her from hiding it from him, or the rest of the group. The rest draw their attention to the expensive card and Sol only stays silent. 

“A wedding? Your friend’s?” Yeseul asks as she picks the card up with perfectly manicured fingers. Turning and feeling the thick paper between her fingers, Yeseul knew it was no cheap manufactured paper. This was expensive, premium, and each card looked handmade from the brush calligraphy. 

“Yeah. But I don’t think I’m going.” Sol says as Yeseul returns her the card and successfully stores it away in her bag. 

“Why not? Don’t you want to be there?” Joon Hwi asks, cocking his head to the side in utter confusion.

“There isn’t much point, is there? I have school and the legal clinic and things to revise for. And besides, I don't have anything to attend in. I just rather send her a gift and treat her a meal.” Sol simply explains. Everyone bombards her with more questions, but she diverts their attention to her paper and the cases they are reviewing today.

Joon Hwi, however, couldn’t get Sol’s reasoning out of his head. He knew Sol well enough to know how much she values her friends, and that she would be willing to drop everything for a friend. Her loyalty was unmatched. It didn’t make sense that she would be held back by her vanity or school work that caused her to not attend such a joyous occasion. 

When everyone is done reviewing the cases and the session ends, Sol is the only one who has her books and papers still scattered all over the table. She still has to review her notes and catch up on a few lectures before she can officially end her day. Joon Hwi was long done, but he stayed put, bringing out a past report he’s done and glancing through it, hopeful to catch any mistakes. The others have headed back or gone to the cafeteria for a meal. 

“Han Joon Hwi, you don’t have to stay for me, you know?” Sol says, her eyes not once looking up as she stays concentrated highlighting her book with a fluorescent orange highlight. She sticks it in her hair when she’s done, raising her head to meet Joon Hwi’s eyes. Joon Hwi only smiles, letting his eyes crinkle. 

“Why don’t you want to attend the wedding?” Joon Hwi asks, still smiling. Sol scoffs. 

“I already said. I’m too busy-” Sol is cut off by Joon Hwi with his teasing. 

“You sure? I think it’s about the groom, though.” Joon Hwi smiles brightly, earning an irritated series of clicks of her tongue from Sol, clearly successful in being teased.

“None of that sort! Who do you think I am, Han Joon Hwi?” Sol rebuts back, throwing her eraser across to him in annoyance.

 Joon Hwi catches it with a laugh, but doesn’t lose eye contact with Sol. A few moments of silence follow, as she looks at the file with the card. Slowly, she draws the card from her file, holding it carefully between her fingers. 

“It’s not that I don’t want to be there. I… it’s my first time going to such a social event in such a long time. And the last time I met Jiyoon was a year ago, back in our 1L.” She says softly, letting her fingers brush her calligraphed name.

“I just… rather not go, you know? Treat her to a nice meal somewhere, maybe a couple drinks. Besides, I’m sure she’s just doing it out of courtesy.” She lets out a light laugh. 

Joon Hwi’s heart softens. He’s witnessed Sol in her different elements. The courtroom, where she’s a powerful woman in command, dressed professionally in a suit and hair in a perfect ponytail. The day-to-day her, where she’s comfortably dressed in jeans and her tanned coat, hair in a bun and post it notes on her jacket. She was always so bold, so confident and so full of fire. It never occurred to him that she would be uncomfortable in social events. She was always the life during dinners, with Bokgi. She laughed loudly, engaged in conversations and seemed so comfortable. He remembers how she would help out the old halmeonis with her neighbourhood on some days when he sent her home, or the times she bought ice creams for Byeol’s classmates. She seemed so extroverted, yet so closed off. Eying her, Joon Hwi reaches out and clasps his hand over hers in an attempt to comfort. 

“I never went to school events, you know? Especially since juvie made me miss it. When I redid my high school year, I didn’t go too. There wasn’t much of a point, since I didn’t have a date or many friends to begin with. If it was Dan, she would have gone, being the popular girl she was back then.” Sol softly says, a small smile ghosting her face.

She remembers the day prom arrived for her school. She was expectant, hoping that the boy she liked would invite her. Or maybe the girls that she occasionally had lunch with will invite her to hang out. But all she got was a stone cold silence the weeks leading up to prom. When everyone buzzed on what they were wearing to prom night, she silently put on her headphones, drilling herself into her science assignments. Of course, she wouldn’t be invited.

She knew the rumours floating in school. How Dan was the perfect one, how she was the failed one. She knew everyone knew she went to juvie. She knows how the boys snicker at her when she walks past them, or how the girls gossip and whisper when she’s eating her lunch. Besides, it didn't help that she was poor. She can’t even afford a dress of her own, let alone go to the event.

Realising what she’s said, Sol quickly draws her hand away along with the card and slots it away in her file. 

“I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to blabber on. You must think it’s stupid, I think so too. Anyways, do you have the notes Professor Kim...” Sol quickly apologises and diverts her attention to her notes. But Joon Hwi was no longer listening. He was shattered by how the woman sitting in front of him has never been treated like how she should be treated. It was no secret to Joon Hwi that he cared for his friends, but cared a little more for Sol. He was the one that left post-it notes on her table and pretended he didn't. She was the only one that he would let steal a mouth or two from his ramyeon. He could read her moods just from her eyes. He wonders sometimes, if he sees her more than a friend. 

He won’t hide that she’s beautiful. The way her eyes slant in an elegant fashion, her smooth, slightly tanned skin, and her winning smile that he always found his heart beating faster for. He loves the way she smiles at her extra pickles, the way her eyes light up when she sees Byeol, or the way she argues and practices. The tenacity and desire she has to improve inspires him to work as hard as her. 

This is why when Sol spilled the beans, he couldn't help but feel all sorts of emotions. Anger, towards the people in her school, for not realising such a wonderful student. Anger towards her for degrading herself. Sadness, for her not being able to experience such events. 

As Joon Hwi ended the session with her and returned to his room, he made a promise to Sol. He’s convinced it will work, and he begins planning in his head. 

He will show her the fairytale. 

-----

A week passed. 

Sol had to give a reply in a few days and she has not figured out what to say. The wedding was in a month. She knew Jiyoon would be busy... Sol figures that she should just treat Jiyoon after her honeymoon, knowing how she would be away with her husband as newlyweds later on. 

“Still thinking about the wedding?” Joon Hwi nods at her, her head in her hands. Sol, looking defeated, nods. So much for trying to hide. They were at their pantry area of their dorms, Sol stirring her ramyeon, as Joon Hwi slurps his. It was 3am, and they just finished studying. The next day was a weekend, so it didn’t really matter if they slept late, since they got the privilege of sleeping in.

“What do I tell Jiyoon? I don’t want to sound rude.” Sol mumbles, lazily stirring her soggy noodles.

“Go to the wedding.” Joon Hwi says suddenly, continuously slurping. 

“What?!”

“Sol, how many weddings can you even go to in your life? Are you sure you want to miss this one? Besides, you said you haven’t been to social events. Don’t you want to experience it?” Joon Hwi says, adrenaline building in his voice. 

Sol falls silent. She can’t deny that she wants to experience the feeling of being dolled up, the fun that everyone talks about, and the enjoyment that everyone goes through. And Joon Hwi is right; she wants to celebrate with Jiyoon. But her fear of social events and the past was holding her back. 

Joon Hwi could tell the change in her eyes. He gives a sweet smile, knowing that he said enough to change her mind. 

“Joon Hwi, but what if she doesn’t even-” Sol begins doubting herself as she shoots off her doubts and worries. Joon Hwi calms her down with logical reasons, calming her nerves in between his mouths of ramyeon. 

“But... I’ll be alone there, right?” Sol asks, her voice so soft, Joon Hwi barely picks it up. Her ramyeon is still untouched, and the noodles have gotten soggy and cold. Sol is silent for a moment, as she realises how right she is, for once. It wasn’t like she could ask a date, she doesn’t even have one. And her friends from the study group were out of the question. They don’t even know Jiyoon. Joon Hwi quickly brings up his bowl to his face, hopefully covering it as he feels the heat rising to his face.

“I’ll be your plus-one.”

Sol’s eyes light up and her head rises. Did she hear that right? Han Joon Hwi, her plus-one? 

“Oh, no! No, I didn’t mean it like that! Joon Hwi, no, I can’t-” Sol can’t find the right words to say. He can't? He shouldn’t? He doesn't need to? Sol can’t deduce her own reasonings for this argument. She knows her roommate likes him, and she definitely doesn’t want to be the target of her roommate’s stares if she catches wind of this. Besides, Joon Hwi doesn’t like her. She knows, and she doesn’t want him to get any wrong ideas. He’s her best friend, and confidante. She knows, deep down, his heart is someone else's. 

“I want to.” 

Sol freezes as Joon Hwi finishes drinking his soup. Placing the bowl down, he does as best as he can to lock eyes with Sol seriously, showing her he wasn’t teasing. No, this was out of his sincere heart. He knows how nervous she gets in a new environment, and him being next to her was bound to calm her nerves just a little more.

Sol could see the genuine care and want in his eyes. She knows this isn’t one of his jokes or teases. For a split second, she catches herself thinking if he meant something more. That going as a date, was more than just keeping her company, but for something to develop… 

Her face is flushed red as she looks at her puffed noodles and lukewarm soup. She picks her chopsticks up but is stopped by Joon Hwi’s hand as he shifts the bowl toward him, away from her. 

“Get yourself a fresh one. This is the first meal all day, isn’t it?” Joon Hwi calls her out, covering her noodles. Sol wants to argue for her soggy noodles, but she falls silent knowing how he revealed her secret. She hasn’t eaten all day after running reports and studying. Grumbling, she does as instructed and boils another bowl of ramyeon. When she’s back at the table with a fresh, hot, spicy and red bowl, she dives into it, wondering how she managed to survive the whole day. 

Joon Hwi only gives a small smile looking at the girl slurping her noodles with delight and looking at her. Joon Hwi wasn’t lying. He did want to be her plus-one for the wedding. He knew that more than just being a comfort for Sol, he wanted to make this one day a day she could look back and smile at. That she could be pretty, relaxed and happy instead of stressing over her grades, exams and family. 

“Fine.” Sol says as she continues slurping the spicy noodles. She blesses the spiciness of the noodles, such that she could blame her pink blush on it. Joon Hwi, clearing the cold noodles and getting water for both of them tilts his head in confusion. 

“Come with me to the wedding, if you want to.” She mutters softly, almost shy to let him know. To hide her blush and hide her confusion, she lifts the still hot bowl to her face. She drinks the soup, but chokes on the spiciness. Joon Hwi lets out a light chuckle before passing her a bottle of cold water. Sol looks at him with narrowed eyes of annoyance, but graciously takes the water. 

As he watches Sol eat her first bowl, then a second, as Joon Hwi munches on some crackers, he only smiles and laughs at whatever Sol was complaining about her reports and her frustrations at her cases that she picked. He lets out comforting words, but is rebutted back with Sol saying he will never get it because he’s smart unlike her. 

As he went to bed that night, he only gave a giddy smile, burying his face in his sheets. He scored his point of taking Sol out on a date, and was already counting down. He officially succeeded in the first step of his plan. 

The rest of it required a little bit of help. But he knew who to ask. 

-----

“Yeseul! What is it that you need to wake me up on a weekend? I was up until 4am last night!” Sol grumbles as she places her phone on speaker, rubbing her eyes. It was 8am, way too early for Sol to process any emergencies. Well, if it was Yeseul, she would do it any time. 

“Sorry, unnie. But it’s urgent. Could you meet me in 10 minutes at the lobby?” Yeseul’s bright voice echos. Sol notices her roomie’s bed made, pillows nicely fluffed and sheets tucked in neatly in pure perfection. She isn’t surprised, considering how she gets up early anyways.

“Fine.” Sol says and hangs up, getting a fresh change of clothes and heading to the bathroom to wash up. She throws on a hoodie, grabbing her only tanned ochre coat and grabs her bag, before jogging downstairs to the lobby. There, Yeseul is standing there, with a sling black bag and with one of the many nude heels she has, hair styled to perfection.

“Unnie!” Yeseul waves her hand over. Walking closer, Sol notices two other familiar friends behind as she scoffs. 

“Joonhwi? Bokgi? What are you doing here?” She asks, her hand playing with the strap of her bag unconsciously. She was surprised to see Joonhwi, but even more Bokgi, who usually spends mornings sleeping in. Joonhwi only gives his usual cheeky smile and drags a drowsy Bokgi with him out towards to the main entrance of the school. Dumbfounded, Yeseul takes this moment to link her arm with Sol’s as she leads her out and catch Sol up to their agenda today. 

“What?! You’re bringing me where?” Sol exclaims, her voice echoing throughout the lobby. Yeseul shushes her as she drags a shocked Sol out of school. Yeseul didn't need the whole school to know where Sol was going. 

“Unnie, please? You need a dress for the wedding, and don’t think you are going to go in one of mine or your old ones! Besides, you promised to go shopping with me one day, right?” Yeseul defends herself as Sol sighs. 

Yeseul wasn’t wrong. The wedding was just a week away and she had absolutely nothing to wear. She owned a couple pairs of flats, but they were so old, it would be embarrassing to attend with those. And her dresses were either too big or too small. She was so caught up with school after submitting her reply to Jiyoon, that she would have forgotten about the wedding if it wasn’t for the post-it on her bedside wall. 

“But...but...” Sol couldn’t find any reasons to counter. She knew Yeseul was right. Besides, it’s a weekend. And they had no upcoming tests or projects, so there was no harm in doing something besides studying in the copy room. She nods, defeated, earning a smile from Yeseul. 

“Wait, then why is Joonhwi and- Who’s car is that?!” Sol’s thoughts are cut off when she sees a familiar black sedan waiting by the entrance as Sol and Yeseul just exit. In the car, she manages to see a Joonhwi in the driver’s seat and Bokgi riding shotgun. 

“Yah! Han Joon Hwi! Isn’t this my roomie’s car?” She shouts as she strides a couple of steps when Joonhwi rolls the window down. 

“She loaned me the car for today. Don’t want you carrying so many things back from shopping today.” He replies curtly. Bokgi opens his passenger side door on the right.

“Bokgi-”

“Noona, sit in front. I’m too tired to watch Joonhwi-hyung drive.” Bokgi mutters before he climbs into the backseat with Yeseul. Sol wordlessly settles into the seat next to Joonhwi, who only looks at her with a smile. Sol catches his odd looks and pauses.

“What?”

“Ready for shopping?” He has his cheeky smile on again. Sol glares in annoyance before turning behind to Yeseul. 

“Did you make him drive?” Yeseul shakes her head and spills out her defensive explanation.

“Oppa called me up yesterday! He just said he needed my help to accompany you shopping for a dress!”

“Then, why is Bokgi here? Trying on dresses too?”

“Noona! I’m listening!” Joonhwi only laughs and shakes his head.

“He’s just accompanying me.” Joonhwi says as he begins to drive off. 

Well, Joonhwi wasn't lying. He waited till their quizzes and projects were over before executing this. He knew Sol was busy, and had waited for the busy season to pass before calling Yeseul. He explained that he knew Sol would not go shop for a dress, and he needs her help to accompany him and her. She willingly, too willingly, agreed. 

Next, he asked Sol B if he could borrow her car, knowing how Sol was not going to go home with just one dress and one pair of shoes when Yeseul was involved. Sol B was skeptical, but just passed the keys over to him. Besides, she was going to be in school studying all day; she didn’t need the car. Bokgi joined in, as Joonhwi couldn’t spend hours on end waiting for the ladies to shop. On further thought, Bokgi just might help him out with something. 

“I could go myself with Yeseul. You didn’t have to wake up for this.” Sol mutters just loud enough for him to hear, fiddling with her fingers. Joonhwi returns with a light scoff.

“As if you’ll do it.” Sol glares at him from the side and is ready to punch him, but retracts her hand, knowing she might literally kill everyone in the car. The ride from the school to the bustling heart of Seoul is a rough twenty minute ride. Bokgi takes this time to catch a wink and Sol does the same, but she can't seem to do it. 

Something about Joonhwi bringing her out to buy a dress specially made her heart flutter a bit more than usual. She knew that Joonhwi cared for her. The ways that he left rolls of gimbaps and energy drinks as opposed to coffee on her table during her tough days. The moments when he would offer his jacket as a pillow wordlessly when she wanted to rest her head after hours of studying. The unspoken synchronisation between them was just a showing of how they understood each other inside and out. 

Sol thought nothing of it. She knew him as long as she stepped into school when he saved her from Professor Yang. They spent almost everyday studying, having classes and eating together. After all, they are best friends, and don’t best friends do this? They look out for each other, right?

He is going to be my plus-one at Jiyoon’s wedding. He’s taking me to shop for a dress. 

Sol wonders, truly for the car ride as she stares outside at the blue skies and empty streets of Seoul, if Han Joonhwi meant more than friends to her. If… she wanted more. 

Deep down, she couldn’t deny hoping for more. She liked the way he looked at her, eyes crinkled and smiling in half moons, the sweet smile that she couldn’t help but return. She has never had many relationships, considering her experience in school and afterwards. She was just too busy; too focussed. Seeing how this man cared for her just made her feel so… special. 

She has never felt that way.

[bailey-reaper]

Do a drabble on Barok’s and his s/o wedding day and night.

The Ring of Truth

Notes: Hmmm! This is another of those scenarios that would no doubt differ depending on S/O's gender and, possibly, their standing in society. I'm going to proceed on the assumption that the wedding is a private affair that is conducted in a rather unconventional manner.

Also, sorry anon, I didn't end up writing about the wedding night – perhaps another time!

In this instance, S/O is gender neutral (they/them pronouns). Barok refers to them using petnames.

Content Warnings: fluff, marriage, Herlock Sholmes

"You know," Herlock Sholmes began, causing Barok to surreptitiously roll his eyes, "It just so happens that I'm a recognised member of the clergy!"

That one caused a small ripple of shock at the table, "Are you really?" Barok replied dryly, because no doubt this was going to form part of a 'witty' (and lengthy) anecdote that would drone on and on until the teller forgot what he was talking about and changed to some other inane subject.

"Yes, indeed," Sholmes said, taking a brief puff on his pipe, "I was ordained into the priesthood as thanks for my swift, discreet solving of a little matter that was upsetting Vatican City..."

"Oh Mr. Sholmes you simply must tell us more!" Susato chimed in, clasping her hands together in delight.

"Why I'd love to, my dear madam."

"Yes," Barok muttered, "There's nothing you love more than the sound of your own voice..."

"Rather a rude quip, Mr. Reaper, and from a lawyer no less!"

"At least when I talk it holds some relevance to it."

"Hmmm, I suspect what I say here will hold relevance some day down the line..."

──────≪⊰✥⊱≫───────

And, much to Barok's disbelief, Sholme's words held true when he found himself in need of someone to officiate a ceremony between him and his beloved. He'd abandoned his faith a long while ago, when Klint died, and he did not care to rejoin a flock again.

While his beloved had never been much for faith and was similarly without a Parish Church to call theirs. In such circumstances, Barok had finally cast his mind back to the irksome detective's declaration to the effect that he was a 'member of the clergy'.

Any ceremony they conducted would be unofficial, of course, given their circumstances, but they were both keen to be married in a symbolic sense. An exchange of rings and words. It was not something Barok had thought he wanted, but a growing part of him had become deeply keen on the idea of a 'wedding' with his beloved.

So, much to his chagrin, he found himself calling at 211B Baker Street to speak to Sholmes.

"My dear man!" Sholmes exclaimed excitedly, "A wedding is a truly auspicious affair, and the wedding of a Reaper must be doubly so in some realm or another!"

Barok peered at the detective, lips drawn into a thin line, "Answer the question, man, will you officiate or not?"

"Nothing would delight me more! Now, might I suggest the perfect venue?"

". . . . You may suggest what you like, but I remain at liberty to reject your request on account of it no doubt being utterly ridiculous."

"Come now, Mr. Reaper, I'm not about to suggest you be wed in a hot air balloon or something of that nature! Though, come to think of it, that would be quite a thrilling way in which to 'tie the knot' haha!"

". . . . I'm starting to lose my patience, Sholmes..."

"Running out of wine, are we?"

"That's neither here nor there," Barok observed, taking a sip of wine, "Though it does mean that casting this hallowed chalice at your head would be a more worthwhile use for it..."

"Yes, yes, no doubt you've the right of it, sir!" it seemed nothing could affect the detective's mood when his spirits were high, not even the threat of violence from the Reaper himself, "Anyway, as I was saying: I think a ceremony, right here, in Baker Street, would be perfect. There can be no more romantic venue than the living quarters of the greatest and most famous detective of all time! And the pleasure can be yours, my good fellow, for the nominal fee of one hundred shillings!"

A long silence drew out between the two men: Herlock stood over his guest, leaning in, with a smile on his face and hands out in fanfare while Barok stared at his host, unblinking, before finishing what remained in his chalice.

"No," he finally and bluntly replied, "I have a perfectly attractive ancestral home that can serve as a venue. Naturally, I will permit you the use of one of the cottages within the estate, and you may remain for a spell afterward on holiday if you so wish... but I won't be renting your... eccentric premises. I cannot think of a more chaotic and unappealing place to host a wedding."

Sholmes sighed, "Ah... it must be quite a challenge to be so perpetually dour! Still, I admire your tenacity Mr. Reaper!"

"... Thank you, it comes naturally."

"Well, it is settled, give me a date and time and I shall be there posthaste to wed you and your sweetheart in holy matrimony? Unholy matrimony? Oh but wait... what on earth will happen when you reach the 'til death do us part' section of the vows? Being a reaper and all!" Sholmes laughed with delight as he contemplated the absurdity of a reaper being wed.

"I'll see myself out," Barok said, leaving the detective to his amusement.

──────≪⊰✥⊱≫───────

A few months later, the date of the wedding arrived.

In somewhat unconventional fashion, Barok had selected his lawyerly nemesis, Ryūnosuke Naruhodō, to be his best man. The gesture was not lost on the young man, who took to it with his usual furtive vigour.

"Would you stop looking around like with quite such a terrified look in your eyes?" the groom said, glaring at the best man as he stood there trembling, "Anyone would think it was you getting married."

"Well... uh... yes I... um, sorry," Ryūnosuke eventually managed, "... I suppose I'm still a little surprised that you would ask me, of all people, to be your best man... not least of all given that I have no idea how British wedding ceremonies work."

"Well, happily for you this is far from a conventional one," Barok replied, "Who knows what will go wrong with that idiot detective in charge of proceedings..." it was strangely freeing, however, to know that nothing hinged on this. There were no expectant aristocrats, waiting for anything to go wrong so that they could then gossip about it for years to come; nor extended relatives to have to placate. The intimacy of the ceremony meant that the only thing Barok cared about was his beloved enjoying their day, which was a good concern to have.

"And as for choosing you to be my best man," he continued, "I think you've earned at least that much... Were it not for you, I'd no doubt be dead or transported by now."

It was still sobering to think that he'd almost been convicted of murder...

"... I'm sure you would have managed your own defence, but, I'm glad that we could all reach the truth."

"Yes..." it had been deeply cathartic in its way, perhaps just a touch more so than it had been soul shattering. If not for Ryūnosuke's impressive defence and his beloved's support, Barok was unsure what sort of a mess he would have become post-trial.

The ordeal had only cemented in his mind that this person was the one he wanted to be with for the rest of his life – however long that might be. He paused as he looked down at the Prosecutor's badge he'd affixed to his suit; Klint's badge. His fingers grazed the finely enameled surface. The fact that his older brother was not here to see him wed was a tragic one, but, he had come to the conclusion that he needed to move forward rather than perpetually looking back.

No doubt Klint would want him to enjoy his day, so he ought to honour that wish.

"Uh... Lord van Zieks?" he realised Ryūnosuke was speaking.

"... You may call me Barok, Mr. Naruhodō."

"Oh... uh..." clearly that had startled him, "In... that case, please call me 'Ryūnosuke'."

"... Very well. What is it, Ryūnosuke?"

"It's time for the ceremony."

Barok took a deep breath and nodded, "... Let's go, then," it had been a long while since he felt the flutter of nerves quite like this; in fact, it reminded him of the first time he stood in a court during his studies for a mock trial full of nervous energy.

──────≪⊰✥⊱≫───────

To his credit, Sholmes was surprisingly focused and capable in his capacity as an officiator. Barok had to give him credit for that. The proceedings were conducted with an air of sobering warmth and not even a snicker at the 'til death do you part' section. Even the exchange of rings went off without a hitch.

It was all going so well, until––

"I now pronounce you Reaper and Spouse, you may now kiss the demigod."

Barok shot a fierce glare at Sholmes, but was quickly and completely distracted by his beloved's arms around him and their lips on his. He had to lift them up so that they could reach his mouth, but that was easily and readily achieved.

Finally they parted, Barok looking at his love in a delighted stupour, "... Well," he murmured after a few moments pause, "It seems we're now wed..."

"Yes," they replied, with a beaming smile and tears rolling down their cheeks, "And I couldn't be happier..."

It took him a moment to realise that his own eyes were glassy with tears as he looked down at his delighted love; his spouse, "Nor I... You have brought such light into my life, my beloved... it may sound trite, but it's true."

"I love you, Barok," they held him close while he returned the hold in kind; everything else melting into the background as he focused on the love of his life.

"I love you too..."

[lexosaurus]

Happy

A fic for dp side hoes week 2021!

Character: Sam Theme: Happiness

This fic was made especially with my good friend @ghostgothgeek in mind. Happy birthday, Steph! Thank you so much for everything you've done for me from helping me get into grad school, to helping me with my DST homework at 2am. You're such an amazing friend and I am SO so lucky to have you in my life. Love ya! Have a good one!

---

There was a lot that made Sam happy.

Rainy days where she could curl up with a good book, her weekly slam poetry meetup group, horror movies, that one hole in the wall coffee joint run by a woman who reminded Sam of her grandmother. Sam had so many little moments in her week that made her happy.

She knew some people—especially her mom—would be surprised by this. After all, Sam was the gloomy goth. The “dark and mysterious” teenage girl. The one who was constantly at rallies fighting for animals rights or renewable energy plans from the government. She knew how she came off, she wasn’t stupid.

But at the end of the day, she was still a teenager. And even with all that was wrong with the world, there was still so much that was right.

Like right now, sitting here with Danny. Well...sitting might have been too strong of a word. She was sitting, that much was accurate, but Danny had long since fallen asleep, having given up on math after an hour of struggling. Sam was going to wake him, but he just looked so peaceful, with his black hair brushing down on his face, his hand resting under his cheek.

So cute. 

She wasn’t exactly sure when their relationship had taken a turn from “just friends” to something more. If she had to pinpoint it, it might have been soon after the “fake out make out” session. Sure, she’d had feelings for him before, but that day just changed something between them. Something that neither of them could explain, neither could admit, but she knew that both of them felt.

It didn’t take too long after then for the study sessions to start. Just the two of them, alone, in one of their rooms, pouring over notes as Danny desperately tried to salvage his GPA. More than once, Sam had caught him sneaking glancing over to her when he thought she was utterly focused on her assignments. But Sam never said anything.

After all, she had been sneaking glances over at him too.

Eventually, it reached a point where Tucker called them lovebirds—as he always teased—but instead of the defensive, “We’re not lovebirds!” exclamation they reflexively shouted, Sam and Danny just blushed and looked away.

Sam would never forget the light of recognition in Tucker’s eyes, followed by a cheshire grin trained pointedly at Sam. If she hadn’t been so tomato-faced in the moment, she might have kicked his shin.

After that, the atmosphere around their study sessions changed. There was a new tension in the air that both of them could feel, but neither would acknowledge. 

Sam knew that in the end, she would have to be the one to make the first move. Danny was...well, he was Danny. He was an insecure, teenage boy. Sam could put up a neon sign shouting, “I LIKE YOU” above her head, and Danny would still doubt her.

But, as forward and outgoing as Sam was, she was still...Sam. The passionate, vegan goth of the grade. She wasn’t popular, she wasn’t surrounded by loads of other girls all the time. She wasn’t invited to the parties, girls didn’t come up to her to talk about their weekends or their crushes or anything else that could be interpreted as a budding friendship.

Danny and Tucker were her only friends. If Sam pursued Danny, and things didn’t end well, then she would have no one.

It was too much of a risk.

So Sam held off.

Anytime they were studying, and she saw Danny glancing her way, Sam wouldn’t meet his gaze. If it was movie night, Sam started sitting next to Tucker instead of Danny. After a big ghost fight, when Danny looked to her with adrenalin-filled, electric green eyes, Sam would walk away.

It hurt—it hurt so bad—but she couldn’t risk ruining their friendship. As much as she prided herself on her independence, she still was just a teen girl. 

She wanted to be liked. She wanted friends. 

But the crush wasn’t going away, the energy between them refused to dissipate. If anything, it was more obvious than before.

It was Sam’s mother of all people who finally, at one awkwardly silent dinner table conversation, was the one to talk some sense into Sam.

“So...you and that Fenton boy,” Pam had said, stirring her fork around her plate. “When were you going to tell me about that?”

Sam felt the blood drain from her face. She tried to play it off. “What do you mean?”

“Sammykins, I may be an adult now, but I was a teenage girl once. I’m not stupid. I may not...approve of that boy and his family. But seeing as you two are obviously an item now, and I want to support you as my daughter, I would expect you to invite him over to dinner to formally meet me and your father please.”

“We’re not—”

“Don’t be silly!” Grandma Ida piped up from across the table. “I’ve seen the way you two look at each other. You kids aren’t the sly foxes you think you are!”

There was a certain level of embarrassment at being called out by parents that Sam presumed came in the territory of being a teenager. But after the initial shock wore off, she realized something crucial:

Sam really really liked Danny Fenton.

Perhaps more than she thought she did.

So it was during another study session that it finally happened. The awkward energy was palpable, and she knew that Danny felt it too. Even if he would never say anything.

But when Danny glanced up at Sam, Sam finally looked back.

She saw the slight flush enter his cheeks as his eyes started to dart back down at his paper. But before he could retreat back in his metaphorical shell too much, Sam blurted out, “I like you.”

The pink dusting on his cheeks had spread across his face. His eyebrows shot up, and his mouth hung open like a fish. “I—uh—I think—what?”

She put her pencil down and hid her shaking hands inside the sleeves of her oversized black hoodie. “I like you. A lot.”

“Oh. I...”

Their eyes were locked, violet against blue. Sam wanted to look away, but she was never one to back down from a challenge.

“Oh.” Danny blinked, a grin slowly spreading across his lips. “I like you. Too, I mean. I like you too.”

Sam blinked. Once, then twice. But whatever she was waiting for—the “psych!” that her insecurities were sure he would say—never came. Relief spread across her body, followed by something else. Something warm, something bright.

Something like joy.

She didn’t think about anything after. She just leaned in and kissed him, allowing her body to take over. Danny reciprocated, his lips soft and gentle, as if he were worried about hurting Sam.

That much about him still hadn’t changed, not even months later. Danny still was gentle, sometimes too gentle. He still was often afraid to grab her hand, or reach out and hug her.

But, slowly, a level of comfort was beginning to settle between the duo, and with that followed confidence. It was small, it was subtle, but Sam could see Danny’s progression over the last few months. Slowly he was starting to lean over and kiss her first, or he would text her first, or he would reach over and take her hand just because. Slowly he was getting there.

And she could see her own progression too. The “what-ifs” that had plagued her life before were slowly diminishing. She was more confident now—not just on the outside, but the inside too.

And she’d even made a friend outside of Danny and Tucker. Mia, a girl who hung just outside of Paulina’s clique, had slowly become an unlikely friend, the two hitting it off after they realized that they listened to the same bands one day in class.

Sam was happy. Even if her dorky half-ghost boyfriend was sleeping instead of doing his homework, which meant Sam now had to wake him up and re-explain all the concepts. Even if sometimes Tucker teased them in that immature way he did, or if she felt at constant odds with the city about its lack of environmental awareness, or if Sam’s parents still made snide comments about the “wacky, lunatic Fenton boy’s parents.”

Sam was happy.

Which is why she leaned over and shook said dorky boyfriend awake. “Wake up, Danny. You’ve slept enough.”

Danny groaned, lazily shoo-ing her hand off his shoulder. “Come on, Sam, don’t be a party pooper.”

“What, gonna leave me to do all this by myself? Not even gonna help me a little?” Sam teased.

“Ugh, fine.” Danny pushed himself upright and rubbed the fatigue from his eyes. 

“My knight in shining armor.” 

Grinning, Danny closed the distance between them, pressing his soft lips onto hers. He was cold to the touch, but Sam thrived in the cold.

She broke the kiss, leaning back ever so slightly to gaze into his icy blue eyes. Up close, she could even see little freckles dotting his skin.

“Cute, but we still have homework,” she said.

Danny rolled his eyes and with a dramatic, “I can’t believe you’re doing this to me,” grabbed his notebook and pencil off the ground and readied himself for another hour of math.

Even with another treacherous hour of math ahead of them, when Sam looked at her dorky half-ghost boyfriend, his slightly crooked smile, his slightly too long black hair that was styled in such a way that could only be achieved through a high-speed flight, she couldn’t help but feel content.

Happy.

---

Thanks for reading!

[pollylynn]

Intruder—A Caskett Future!Fic One-Shot

Title: Intruder WC: 1400 A/N: No Tell Me More tonight. (I swear, I am not trying to drag out the horrible end of this season, I just keep getting home late.) So. Future fic, because @theputz913 got me thinking about it. 

There’s an intruder in the kitchen. A clumsy, angry, foul-mouthed intruder who happens to live here. This is the sense his mind makes of far too many stimuli for this time of night. 

But it’s not night 

That’s probably his mind, too, and he can’t tell if it’s dumb or smart, if it’s helpful or otherwise. It’s probably . . . relevant. His body resents that. His body would prefer to think of his mind as misguided, misinformed, and probably a liar. But his mind probably knows what it’s talking about, even if it’s talking in obscure poetic forms or something equally indecipherable.

His feet are in league with his mind. They are shoving themselves into slippers and completely disrupting the integrity of the blanket burrito he had constructed around himself. With that ruined, he might as well let the rest of himself follow and see what’s to be done about the intruder in the kitchen. 

He can’t find her at first. It’s perplexing. He can definitely hear her. Clumsiness had turned into purposefully destructive energy and the foul-mouthedness shows no signs of letting up. He thinks at first that it’s his eyes rebelling against burrito disruption—his eyes refusing to see anything at all—but it seems to be more than just recalcitrance. 

There’s almost no light. The parts of his body that are not in league with his mind would cast a WTF? glance at the parts of it that are if only there were any part of him that could remember which parts were which, but remembering is hopeless, and anyway his mind is piping up to say that it’s not night, it’s just January. It’s just that stretch of battleship grey weeks when day is subtle to say the least. 

January seems relevant. Battleship grey seems relevant. Not night seems relevant, if only he could remember how, why, to whom. 

“I’m a morning person.” She appears suddenly from behind the breakfast bar with a clang of cast iron meeting cooktop. “I am,” she adds with a sidelong glance at the skillet she’s just slapped down. She wants the record to show there’s a weapon within easy reach. 

“Obviously.” He doesn’t mean to let that slip out. He’s not sure who or what his mouth is in league with, but he definitely did not mean to let that slip out. He’d fear for his life, but she’s slumped forward with her elbows on the counter, so unless she’s finally developed the power to murder him with her mind, he’s probably safe-ish. 

“God, Castle,” she groans and lifts a pair of pleading eyes with dark, dark smudges beneath them. “Can you . . . ?” She waves a hand at the counter behind her where, he sees now, she has a amassed a completely indiscriminate selection of things from the fridge, the cabinets, and who knows where else. 

“I can.” He snaps into action. He scurries around to the inside of counter and reaches for the elbow still planted against the granite. “And you should—“ 

Words fail him as he stands her up. Sit. That’s the word he was looking for a moment ago, but now he doesn’t know what word should follow. 

“I know.” She jerks her arm away from him. She moves as if to pull her robe defensively around her, but then she thinks better of it. She stands straight and whisks the robe back like a gunslinger about to draw. “I’m huge,” she says, and the expression on her face is this fascinating thing that’s two parts conspiratorial grin, one part murderous you-did-this glare. “I’m fucking overnight huge.” 

He wonders about the expression on his own face. He suspects it’s one part chagrin and too many parts you-bet-your-ass-I-did-that. He suspects it is the wrong expression, and the narrowing of her eyes confirms it. 

“Sit.” He swallows hard before his expression can get him into any real trouble, and takes her elbow again. The run into gridlock as he tries to move swiftly toward the couch and pillows and blankets, but she clearly wants to hover nearby as he deals with the coffee, as he cooks. “You should sit . . .” He trails off. His eyes sweep ill-advisedly between the sudden, shocking swell of her belly and  the tall stools that, when they went to bed last night, surely surely could not have looked so spindly and fragile and definitely prone to toppling over. “You should be comfortable.” 

Her face crumples. Her mood swings and his swings along with it. He can feel the exhaustion coming off her in waves. He can see that the thought of settling herself on the stool seems about as achievable as climbing Everest at the moment. 

“I wanna watch.” She sniffles. It’s an exhausted sniffle. It’s not actually a teary sniffle, just exhausted, but it bothers her anyway. Her voice drops low. “I wanna talk to you.” 

He’s frozen for a moment. He’s overcome with the sweetness of the slightly sullen admission. He wonders, not for the first time, which of the two of them is supposed to be hormone saturated here. He shakes himself out of it. 

“Wait.” He rushes by, kissing her on the nose as he passes. “Wait right there.” 

He drags the wingback chair over. He parks it just east of the oven door and runs back for the ottoman. He installs her on her relocated throne. He swings her feet up and tucks her in with blankets. She grumbles and swipes at him, but her eyes are closing on her. They’re actually closing. 

It’s convenient. It lets him work quickly. He returns the truly random objects—baking powder, leftover Italian, oyster crackers—back in their rightful places and sets the pot of half-caff to brew while she’s dozing off and works on eggs, on toast, on bacon. Her eyes flutter open every once in a while and she murmurs something that really requires no response. 

She rouses just in time, just as everything’s done, and she’s something closer to bright-eyed. She’s ravenous enough that she’s forgotten that she wanted to watch, she wanted to talk. She’s ravenous enough that she doesn’t object to the plate he brings her right there in the wingback chair, as he leans with his hip against the counter and picks at his own. 

“Tired again,” she announces when her plate is clean. There are spots of slightly miserable pink in her cheeks as she says it. She’s embarrassed, or maybe frustrated with the changes that keep coming at her fast and furious, changes that keep coming from within her. She’s too tired to lift the plate, but she grabs him by his robe when he bends over to retrieve it from her. “Sorry.” 

“No.” He tugs at her ear. A play out of her playbook. “Not sorry. Nothing to be sorry about.” 

“I’m a morning person.” She looks away. “I was going to make breakfast.” 

“Kate, you’re making a person in there.” He budges his way on to the arm of the chair and risks a drum of his fingers on the topmost curve of the bump. “I think, just this once, you can be excused from making breakfast.” 

She gives him a shrug–nod that says she’s not convinced. “This was supposed to be fun.”  He’s frozen again. He doesn’t know what to say. It’s not much of a problem. She seems to have lots to say about it. “They tell you it’s magical and indescribable.” She scowls down at herself. “It’s pretty fucking describable.” 

“Describable. As not . . . fun?”

 He gives her a thin smile. He’s trying to lighten things, which makes him feel like an ass. Maybe lightening is not what she needs. He opens his mouth to apologize, to ask what she needs, but she’s considering it. She’s still scowling down at herself, but she’s smiling, too. There’s that mixture again—conspiratorial grin plus murderous glare. 

“Some of it is.” She startles in the chair. Her eyes go wide and she has to catch her breath. She grabs for his hand and rests it on the curve of her belly. She moves. Their daughter moves like a slow-motion wave and his breath leaves the building entirely. He looks down at her, eyes wide. She smiles up, no murder at all in it now. “Some of it is so much fun.” 

[sunflowerstache]

the one where you’re Harry’s tailor

@theasstour​ and I have been stewing in this idea for nearly a year and it’s finally come together.. we hope you enjoy x.

Word Count: 25.6k | Warning(s): explicit language, alcohol, sexual content

NORA’S MASTERLIST  |  SARAH’S MASTERLIST

There were few moments in life that would equate to being backstage at a fashion show, simply because it was impossible to string together the specific words needed to describe the feeling. Journalists tried, quickly scribbling down thoughts and plans for their future articles in small notepads, while the professionals around them danced about in unspoken, yet somehow synchronized, movements. How would they be able to accurately depict the feeling of fabrics rubbing together between your fingers, in the most comforting way? The almost deafening sound of sewing pins carelessly being dropped on the table, after fixing a foot sized hole in a pair of trousers moments before showtime. Or how, with the amount of people crammed into the room, mixed with the humid Roman air seeping through the open windows, had sweat continuously dripped from your forehead. Yet, there was still a constant shiver running up your spine with nerves. No matter how valiant of an attempt, unless they were watching their own tailored outfits walk down the runway, their written words would never be exactly right.

Even after four years working for Gucci, perfecting hundreds of articles of clothing, clothing that was held on such a high pedestal in the fashion industry, the nerves never settled. Not when Alessandro immediately hired you at the end of your University placement, or when you were asked to accompany him in the closing walk during last year’s Cruise Show. But all of those monumental achievements paled in comparison to the fluttering of butterflies in your stomach when you were crouched in front of your current canvas, Gucci’s newest runway model for the 2020 Cruise Fashion Show; Harry Styles.

He was making his runway debut wearing Look 51, something you’d taken notice was not too far away from his new wardrobe when you first opened his folder. The wide legged pants were crafted from fine dots patterned blue wool, a single red pin stripe running from the hip, all the way down to the ankle. They were finished with minor details, ones not many people would take notice to, but ones that made your heart race with excitement; hidden horn buttons, front slash pockets, viscose inner lining, and an interior silk belt, all of which were hidden by his coat. Green, red, and blue stripes defined the knee length coat, appearing to crease where the four pockets sat; two at his groin and two more just at the breasts, the left pocket holding Lyre ‘Pas de Rumeur’ crest patch. Barely visible under the wool coat, peaked out a blazer identically matching the pants, only the buttons and red piping could be seen, but you knew what would be hidden to onlookers; an orange lion embroidered onto the upper left breast pocket, the hand stitched word ‘Gucci’ sitting under it’s paws in black thread, and a baby blue silk inside - a fabric that no doubt felt great against Harry’s white tank top covered torso. The rest of his look consisted of minor accessories that brought the look together; a red barrie that had the signature double G’s embroidered in green thread, a pair of crocheted black fingerless gloves, and maroon quilted leather slide sandals, complete with the interlocking G horsebit. The subtle jewelry on his body was a stark contrast to his usual ring clad fingers, now only having a few delicate necklaces rest against his bare chest. He was a sight to be seen, someone who would surely grab attention as he made his way through the dark museum runway.

“Quit moving, or you’ll end up with a pin in your bum.” you mumbled, on your knees behind Harry and quickly fixing a tear in the rear left pants pocket before he was ushered out onto the runway.

The two of you were in the farthest corner of the back dressing room, away from most of the hustle and bustle of all other models, so that you could grab the emergency sewing kit, filled with all colors of thread, baby scissors, hundreds of pins, and even super glue, from your bag. Out of the corner of your eye, Alessandro could be seen weaving through the room, triple checking that each and every outfit was completed in the exact way he had envisioned. There wasn’t much time before all models were set to step foot on the Musei Capitolini floor, and the last minute nerves were finally setting in.

“Sorry, can’t help it. Never done this before, you know.” his voice was muffled by not only the chatter of the room, but also the constant picking of his lip.

“Still can’t believe you’re actually doing it, if I’m honest.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means,” you chuckled, giving the bum pocket a couple tugs to make sure it wouldn’t come undone again, before moving to stand directly in front of him. “You cut yourself the first time we met, ripped your trousers at the first shoot, and fell off a stone wall in the new campaign. You’re not exactly the most graceful lad at times.”

“In my defense, no one told me not to get on that wall.” Harry paused a moment, holding his hand out for you to place the pin cushion while you reorganized your bag,  “Can’t believe we only met a few years ago. Feel like I’ve known you forever.”

Without any hesitation, you nodded in agreement.

You couldn’t really remember the exact date you first met Harry. All you remember is it had been February 2018 and raining - very hard at that - and when you entered the Gucci store on Bond Street in London, your umbrella had been torn to shreds because of the wind, and your hands felt like ice after having been attacked by the raging storm outside. Alessandro had been upstairs in one of the offices, three huge white boards before him with the different campaigns he was planning at the time. Humming along to Malafemmena by Roberto Murolo playing from the speakers on his desk, Alessandro traced a finger over the fabric hanging from the wall beside the boards. You knew those were the fabrics you were going to be using today, your boss having hung them forth so it would be easier for you to work.

“Morning.” You had said, taking your jacket off and placing it on the hanger. “Absolutely horrendous outside.”

“Hmm,” mused Alessandro, tilting his head to take the grey fabric in before he looked over at you making your way over. “Always like that in England.”

You crossed your arms over your chest, looking at the different colours, materials and patterns you were going to use for the new looks. “You’re not wrong.”

Alessandro giggled, looking over his shoulder for a single second.

“Either pouring rain or it’s drizzling.” You said, studying the different designs of each of the suits you would be making over the next few months. “Right annoying when you don’t even want to be here.”

He laughed again, turning around to look at the boards you assumed.

“I’m being serious.” You reached for the fabric your boss had been checking out when you arrived. “Who would choose to live in a country where it constantly rains?”

“Didn’t really have a choice most of my life,” came a voice from behind you and you instantly stopped dead in your tracks. “Can’t really control where we are born, can we?”

Slowly, you turned to see one of Alessandro’s dearest friends: Harry Styles. He was sitting in the brown leather sofa right behind you, a sofa you knew was there from having been in Alessandro’s London office multiple times before, but hadn’t thought to give a second look. You would assume Harry would have someone there with him, like some assistant or manager or… anyone, but Harry was sitting there all alone, looking over at you with this cheeky grin on his face that had your cheeks heat up. It wasn’t a shock for him to be here alone, you thought after a second, as Harry and Alessandro spent loads of time together usually so this was just another normal hang-out for them. You, on the other hand, had never met Harry Styles before. This was your first time being in his company. And so far – you had to be honest with yourself – you weren’t looking very good. Grumpy, soaked through, and with a dash of dishevelled everything, you no doubt looked like a person no one wanted anything to do with. Harry clearly found it very amusing how little you liked being in England. Also most definitely found it funny how startled you were at his sudden utterance. You watched as he got up from the sofa, walking over to you as Alessandro also came to sight again.

“Il mio amore,” Alessandro said. “This is Harry.”

You zoned out entirely, the whole situation too surreal. Though you had been born and brought up in England, there was just something about the constant rain that made not only your mood drop, but your skin sticky and hands clammy. So when Harry reached a hand out to shake yours after Alessandro had told Harry your name and introduced you, red lights and a loud alarm started going off in your head. He would have to feel just how bad the effect of the bloody terrible English weather had on you. But not shaking his hand would be weird and impolite. His hand was between the two of you, open and ready for yours. It stood there for a few seconds. And you just looked at it. Quickly realising that not shaking his hand would probably be more awkward than doing so with a sweaty palm, you took his. A breathy giggle left Harry’s lips as your hands met. You let his go, looking over at Alessandro who was giving you a weird look while you heard the slap of Harry’s hand against his thigh in the background.

“Measurements.” Alessandro said, trying to move on from the awkward situation you had just caused. All the blood in your body rushed to the surface of your skin, instantly heating you up. You glanced to the ground, hoping Harry didn’t notice how flustered you just got. Walking to your bag, you took out your notebook and measurement tape. “Glorious, mio caro.”

Getting your pen, you walked over to the board for the Gucci Autumn/Winter Campaign. There were five different suits for this one, a couple of more for the next, and then three for the last one. From the way Alessandro had left some space at the bottom of the last board, it was clear he would be working even more with Harry in the future, they just did not know exactly what or when yet. Someone cleared their throat beside you and you whipped your head to your left to see Alessandro pointing to the different suits on the board.

“These today.” He said, pointing to the specific details he wanted and instructions on where they would be loose and not. “I need to go to a meeting, but you two will be fine on your own. You have a lot in common.”

You frowned, watching as Alessandro walked toward his desk, picking up a huge binder and resting it under his arm. “Have a lot in common?”

“Yes,” he grinned. “You do.”

“Like…?”

Alessandro only gestured with his hands for the two of you to get talking, and then he disappeared out the door, shutting it behind him. Dettagli - Detalhes by Ornella Vanoni played lowly as the quiet between the two of you filled the room and made it troublesome to breathe properly. A great stream of anxiety suddenly took over and you suddenly felt very awkward. Obvious from the way Alessandro had left in such a hurry and the way he had left with that grin, you knew there was underlying expectations to this encounter. There were multiple reasons why Alessandro had called you to come help him. You didn’t want to think about that, though, because that only made absolutely everything ten times more embarrassing.

“Lovely,” Harry looked over at you from staring at the door Alessandro had kicked closed, standing confidently in his green and white striped tee shirt over his loose light denim jeans. “Likes a dramatic entrance and exit, that one.”

You huffed through your nose, walking over to the board to look at the details once more. Harry only watched you, a bit unsure of what to do next. The rain fell against the windows, creating a lulling sound to go with the Italian music still swaying through the room. The white walls, tall ceiling, and Victorian look of the room only made it feel like you two were actually in Italy. His phone vibrated from the sofa with an incoming text, only giving it a quick look over his shoulder until you wandered over to your bag again. Whipping your glasses out, you hung them from the collar of your white tee shirt before walking back over to Harry.

Quickly, and maybe a bit too loudly, you cleared your throat. “Are you ticklish?”

Taken a bit off guard, Harry blinked twice. “Only armpits and backs of my knees.”

“Right.” You nodded your head, hooking your measurement tape around your neck. “Stand still, back straight.”

Harry listened to you, biting the side of his lip as you pressed your ring and index finger to your sternum in concentration. Eyes following you as you started walking around his figure, getting a good look at everything before you stood before him again.

“Clothes too loose?” He asked, genuinely concerned.

“No, it’s fine.” You said, taking your tape back in your hands again. An instrumental version of ‘O Sole Mio by Jack Jezzro started playing just as the rain outside threw itself more forcefully against the windows, but you tried not to pay notice to anything but what was going on before you. You had no idea why you were nervous. Plenty of times before, you had worked with other celebrities; tailoring their suits, dresses and whatnots. For some reason, however, this felt different. Harry was so close to Alessandro, so the notion that the two of you would get along just as well filled you with anxiety, and a hint of awkwardness. Bringing your tape up you took a step closer to Harry as you lifted it above his head and around his neck. Before doing anything else, you put your glasses on, wanting to actually be able to see what the measurements were. Resting the tape on the tops of his shoulders, you put your finger between the tape and his neck to allow for some room for Harry to breathe in his suits. You felt him swallow against your finger. Her heart skipped a quick beat.

“So…” he said, dragging it out. “Where are you from?”

Instantly, your eyes whipped up in the direction of his, staring at you patiently. You glanced down at the measurements again, whispering them to yourself under your breath and doing so continuously till you wrote his numbers behind the ‘neck’ in your notebook.

“You can tell I’m from England?” you asked, knowing your parents had made it very apparent to you how much of your accent you had lost over the four years you had spent constantly traveling.

“Know a Brit when I hear one.”

You huffed through your nose, walking back to him. “Lift your arms, please.”

He did.

You sneaked the measurement tape from where it hung from his shoulders and wrapped it around the widest point of his chest. “Worcestershire, you?”

“Cheshire,” he answered. “Right outside Manchester.”

“Stand in a relaxed posture if you can,” you ordered. “You can let your arms fall to your sides.” Harry did as you told him to. “Now breathe in.” Breathed in, you noted the numbers in your head. “Breathe out.” You did the same again. Muttering them under your breath, you dragged the tape with you while writing everything down.

“And you?” Harry asked, clearly eager to get to know you better while you were this close to him. He didn’t want any awkward tension between the two of you as this almost felt like an intimate moment; you studying him so closely and touching his entire body on your first meeting. Though he was good at knowing when to be professional and when it was okay not to be - and though he knew this was work - he couldn’t help but feel like it wasn’t. You were a good friend of Alessandro, just as he was, and so it felt more like two acquaintances hanging out than anything work related.

“Evesham.” You answered, enclosing the tape around Harry’s waist this time. You leaned into him, nose almost touching his chest. You breathed in through your nose, and as discreetly as possible, breathed out through your mouth. Why were you acting up? What was it with Harry Styles that suddenly made it hard for you to function? This never happened. Bending your index finger, you started feeling around for Harry’s belly button to make sure you were on the right spot.

“Never really been to Worcestershire, if I’m- Oh!” Harry looked down at you as you poked his belly button a little too hard.

“Sorry, just needed to know I was directly on your waist.” You leaned down, asking him to breathe in and out again.

Harry watched you write the numbers down. “How long have you been doing this?”

“What?” you asked, putting one end of the tape at the mid side of his neck, following it all the way down to where you knew Alessandro wanted the shirt to end. Which was a little too close to his crotch. “You mean working for Gucci or tailoring people?” You felt the spot where his abdomen ended and his leg began. No, no, no, don’t go there, be professional, you thought to yourself.

“Both.”

You hunched down, getting the right measurements, writing them down, and then going to stand at his back. “Since I was twenty. Alessandro thought I had some talent, took me under his wing, and I’ve been working for Gucci since, tailoring people.” Placing your finger near his armpit, and tracing a line upward, Harry jerked.

“Absolutely not.” He glanced at you now that you were face to face, protecting his armpit while he continued on, “Want me to elbow you in the throat?”

“Preferably not.”

“Then don’t tickle my armpit.” He was so serious it took everything in you not to laugh.

“Well,” you couldn’t help your smile now. “I kind of have to know where your armpit is to do your shoulders.”

Conflict ran across Harry’s face, as if he was debating everything that could go wrong if he let you do it. Slowly, he turned back around, shoulders incredibly tense this time.

“Try to relax.”

“I know I’m about to have a finger jammed up my armpit, I’m unable to.”

The urge to laugh was so immense, but you bit your lips together and quickly ran your finger from his armpit and directly up his shoulder. Harry only winced a little, sighing under his breath as you took the measurements and then went to write them down.

“Sorry,” Harry said as you turned back around to him. “Didn’t mean to turn into a dickhead, but I just hate when people touch my armpits.”

You smiled. “It’s fine. I’m the same with my neck.”

“Yeah?”

You nodded.

“Ever had someone tailor you?”

You huffed, shaking your head. “Nope. I’ll do that myself unless I need someone to do my back.”

“Let me know next time you need help and I’ll do your back.” Harry said. “Maybe wiggle my fingers along your neck or summat to that effect.”

You laughed. “You have free time on your hands now? Aren’t you a busy bloke?”

“Count me in after July.”

“Oh?”

“World tour is over; I get to relax.” He informed, watching as you did his arm. “Going to Italy to relax with some mates and family.”

“How nice.” You said, doing his wrist. “I’m going to Italy as well. Always spend March ‘till August in Florence, then September ‘till February in London.”

“Really?” Harry almost looked a little impressed by your lifestyle, as if his own wasn’t just as adventurous. “Travel a lot?”

You couldn’t help a tiny smile, knowing that no matter how many countries you’d travelled to, Harry had probably done double the amount. But regardless of how well-travelled he himself was, in the low yet curious tone of his voice, you could hear the sincerity of his question. “Mostly between Italy and England, but I do tag along on some of Alessandro’s visits to the States, France, and some other countries.”

“Wicked.” Harry smiled as he noticed the corners of your mouth tip a little upward. “What’s been your favourite so far?”

The eye contact was intense. He didn’t look away, focusing entirely and altogether on you. There was a friendliness to his glance that had you relaxing, which was odd considering how anxious you had been earlier. You were sure that, by this point, Harry had completely forgotten the entire reason why he was here or why it was raining outside. And, to be fair, so had you. This felt like catching up with a friend, the easy chatter you had with one of your mates after months apart.

“I feel like I’m somewhat biased, but Italy. I love my little flat in Florence and that city too much for my own good.” You said, finding the way Harry’s head moved slightly with his huff, endearing. “You expected that?”

“What's not to love about Italy?” he asked, head cocked to the side. “I’m going there this summer, remember? Taking my whole family and meeting some mates.���

“Where abouts are you going?”

“Modena.” He put his hands in his jean pockets, nodding his head as he spoke. “Not really anywhere close to a big city or anything, but I just want to rest once I’m there to be fair. I’m teaching myself Italian at the moment, Alessandro is teaching me some as well.”

“Really?” Your smile grew bigger.

Harry’s smile mirrored yours. “Yeah.”

“Would you understand if I spoke some to you?” The four years you had lived in Italy had made you fluent in their first language. It had been a challenge at first, but you now understood the frustrated Florentine drivers shouting out from their open driver side windows, the old couple owning the bakery near you who loved to mumble, and even the slang some of the interns at Gucci used when they talked to one another. Harry seemed to be able to tell that you mastered this language he had just barely started to learn, but he nodded nevertheless.

“Right then.” He said. “Hit me.”

“Shit.” You mumbled to yourself, getting the measurement tape from the table behind you, completely having forgotten about the fact that you were here for work.

“Is that Italian for ‘oh no’?” Harry teased, making you both laugh, but you quickly shut up as you saw what was next on the list. Hip and seat. Clearing your throat, you turned back to Harry, biting your lip as you hunched down before him. You could tell that he too was a bit taken aback by the completely new position you two found yourself in. He quickly looked away.

“Is it okay if you…” your eyes met. “If you lift your shirt slightly and lower your jeans a tad? I need to measure directly onto your body.”

“Alright,” Harry took a grip of his jeans, shimmying them along with his boxers a bit down his hip. “Yeah.” Taking his shirt up next, the bare skin of his abdomen was there right in front of you.

“Modena,” you started, leaning in as you brought the measurement tape around him. Harry felt your breath brush against his abdominal hair. “Non è troppo lontana da Firenze.”

“What?” he said, eyes glued to the wall right in front of him, hands gripping his shirt hard in concentration. “Didn’t catch that.”

You memorised his number, then said a quick, “You can pull your jeans up and shirt down now.”

Harry did so, watching you stroll back to note his hip. He noticed he was panting slightly, like he had run up a set of stairs. Closing his mouth, he shook his head and willed himself to act normal, to be respectful. It was a little hard, however, when he had been single for so long and a pretty lass stood right in front of his crotch. As you came back and stood in front of him the exact same way as the time before, Harry settled his eyes on the white boards again. This time around, you brought the book with you, wanting the crotch and leg area to be done with as quickly as possible.

“Modena non è troppo lontana da Firenze.” You said again, measuring around the widest point of his seat.

He didn’t respond.

“Harry?”

“Huh?”

You giggled, writing down the measurements before inhaling hugely. Inseam next. “Did you catch what I was saying?”

“No, I-“ He stopped himself as your hand came up to the inside of his upper thigh, not having seen it coming. “Sorry.”

“No, that’s okay.” You said quickly, doing his inseam, knuckles softly gracing that spot between his thighs.

“I, uhh, I didn’t understand what you were saying.” He admitted quickly, hands on his hips and gaze faraway.

You wrote down the inseam, and got up, taking the book with you. His eyes instantly fell on you as you stood face to face again; him biting his lips together and your eyes big. Turning around, you placed the book down on the table again, running your finger over all the measurements so far.

“Could you come here, please?” You asked, hearing Harry walk towards you, hands on his back and ready for the next steps. You had been a bit scared to command him earlier, but now that you had talked and been between his legs, you felt it almost got a little easier to be around him. As if the awkwardness had gone away. Now you didn’t have to go far to write his measurements because the table and book and pen were right beside you. You walked over to the white board, mentally jotting down how and where Alessandro wanted the shirt to end and how it was supposed to sit on Harry. Meanwhile, Harry craned his neck to watch you. Still wearing your glasses, he watched your lips move as you mumbled to yourself, the dark blue of the rainstorm from the window beside you, made what Harry looked like seem like a painting. The calmness of you against the raging madness outside. He glanced back at the book, then at the soft fabric hanging beside him, mind wandering to the different places these campaigns would take him. He read over his measurements, about to turn the pages to see some of his other lengths and widths, when he felt a sharp pain in his finger.

He hissed.

You glanced over at him. “What’s up?”

“Nothing.” Harry was fast to answer, putting his index finger in his mouth to get some of the blood off his finger.

Walking back over to him, you didn’t pay much attention to how he was quick to put his hand behind his back again where it had been earlier. “Modena isn’t too far from Florence.”

Harry’s brows met above his nose, feeling a little lost at first, but as he slowly started putting two and two together, his grimace evaporated. “Modena non è troppo lontana da Firenze.”

You nodded your head twice, giving him a little smile. “Esattamente.”

“Exactly.” Harry translated.

You raised your hand, offering Harry a high five which he happily answered. What he forgot in that second however, was his minor accident just a minute earlier. Right before your hands met, you noticed his finger, and your eyes went immediately to his.

“What happened to your bleeding finger, mate?”

“Oh-” Harry looked at it, looking unsure for a second before he huffed. “Oh that,” he huffed. “That’s nothing.”

You crossed your arms. “You’re bleeding.”

“And you’re a tailor.”

“What…” You shook your head. “What’s that got to do with this?”

“Thought we were stating the obvious.” He shrugged. “Just a papercut. I’ll survive.”

“Of course you’ll survive, just wondered how you were able to start bleeding out of nowhere.”

Harry chuckled. “Not to worry, I’ll be able to use my hand as normal in no time.”

“Knob.” You mumbled automatically, immediately regretting it. That was not at all professional. And you were in a very professional setting. You were at work. You couldn’t call your client a knob right to his face. Oh my god oh my god oh my god, you thought to yourself trying to row yourself back to safe territory. You scrunched your nose up as you inhaled sharply. “Can’t even remember the last time I got a papercut, to be frank.”

“Speaking frankly now, are you?” He joked. You looked up at him again, and a second after your eyes met, you both started laughing. You put your hand to your heart, shaking your head at how silly the two of you were when you were under strict orders from Alessandro to get Harry’s measurements. But the fact that he hadn’t taken you calling him a knob seriously, the fact that he was able to joke about it and take the piss, it made it impossible for you not to laugh with him.

Your eyes met, both teary eyed from laughter.

“What’s knob in Italian, anyway?” Harry asked, making you laugh even harder.

And that launched the two of you into easy conversation. Almost a little too easy for the two of you to just have met. The fact that you were in a work environment didn’t seem to face you at all, which was incredibly refreshing for both. The seriousness of the meetings you had to endure most of the time so unnecessarily boring and dry that this was like a breath of fresh air. Alessandro had been right when he said you had loads in common, which you figured out in between you taking his measurements. There didn’t seem to be a topic untouched at the end of Harry’s session, and though he was done with his measurements and such, he stuck around. You two stood by the table you stood at earlier, you still holding onto the tape like once you stopped, Harry would immediately leave. Neither of you noticed how the door opened slightly. Didn’t notice Alessandro looking through the crack and at the two of you, having heard voices from behind the door when he came back from his meeting. He smiled to himself, seeing Harry laugh at something you said before he closed the door again, leaving you two to it.

You became fast friends. Though you could go a week without texting, or a day without thinking about one another, you still knew that when you next met up, you would pick up where you left off. You had formed an easy friendship like that, one which you both appreciated and knew you could come back to without problem. Never in your wildest dreams did you imagine you would befriend someone as high profile as Harry Styles when working as a tailor. You hadn’t really thought you would befriend any celebrity when working as a tailor, actually. But here you were, friends with Harry Styles, and not at all thinking of him as someone who made hit singles or who was the new face of Gucci. Someone who made a living off of singing and who had a huge bloody fanbase supporting him. That part of his life felt surreal, but yours and Harry’s friendship was so genuine, so effortless, that you didn’t really care about the other aspects of his life as long as he was a good person.

The second time you met was at the chip shop, The Camp, in St Albans, Hertfordshire, where the photoshoot and commercial would take place. It was cloudy, the skies a dull grey that threatened with rain, but you knew would just fly right by without interrupting the film crew. The wind was annoying however, bitter at the touch, but you knew Harry was a warm blooded person and would have no problems exposing his chest and hands to it. You strolled up to the Camp School parking lot that was littered with cars and a huge white truck where you knew Harry would be, getting ready. Alessandro had other business to attend to and most of the people on set worked for Gucci, but you were there to see that the suits you had made were okay and that they properly fit. For the first fitting some weeks ago, you had been busy with another client, so Alessandro had done that himself. But he still wanted someone on sight in case something happened, because no way in hell were anyone but him or you allowed to repair a pair of torn trousers or a ruined shirt.

You knocked on the door of the truck, heard a “Come in”, and stepped inside. Harry was sitting in a makeup chair, a woman doing his hair and make-up, readying him for his first ever Gucci shoot. He opened his eyes, meeting yours in the mirror before him. Your smiles were identical when you realised who you were looking at.

“Knob.” You said, standing by the wall behind Harry.

“Wanker.” He answered, grinning at you. “You alright?”

It was something the two of you had fallen into the habit of calling one another ever since the ‘knob’ incident of your first meeting. No one really understood why, especially not the people around you. Alessandro, who thought he had been the mastermind behind a match made in heaven, was surprised to see just how good friends the two of you were. Seeing you two hit it off in his office at first, he had immediately thought he had done it, found each his friends a potential partner, but after months of nothing romantic happening, he had given up. It was clear the two of you just looked at each other as friends and nothing more. Very good friends at that.

“Yeah,” you pointed your thumb over your shoulder, gesturing out beyond the door you had just walked through. “Looks like it’s about to rain.”

Harry chuckled. “Worried about that, are you?” He thanked the make-up artist before he got up, gesturing for you to walk out first.

“Yes.” You answered, stepping out of the van. “You’ll look like a maniac if you get wet in that.”

“A maniac?!” Harry sounded appalled. “You might have to elaborate on why.”

“Wet hair, wearing a suit with no shirt, striking orange necklace, and holding a chicken?”

“No, that’s art, babe.”

You laughed. The two of you started strolling towards the chip shop.

“If anything, I’ll look irresistible wearing this and being soaked.” Harry said, saying a quick ‘hi’ to someone walking by. “You won’t be able to resist me.”

You huffed. “If I saw someone walking down the street looking like that, being soaked through, I’d have my pepper spray ready and already dialling 999.”

“Admit it, you’d not be able to keep your hands off me.”

“Why are you so obsessed with me thinking you’re fit?” You laughed. A short silence followed. Your knuckles brushed against one another. Something warm lit up your chest for a single second. Harry just looked at you for a moment, as if seriously contemplating the question. But before you got the chance to look to your left and at your mate, to make sure he was fine, someone interrupted.

“Harry,” one of Glen Luchford’s assistants walked toward the two of you. “We’re ready for you.”

The photographer stood beside the art director – Christopher Simmonds - further down the street, just outside the chip shop, talking amongst themselves about something. A slight breeze blew past you, Harry’s cologne graced you for two lovely seconds as you watched the man himself follow the main photographer’s assistant. You were a couple of steps behind them, standing by yourself and watching the whole commercial unfold. Harry was handed the chicken, who flapped its wings upon being in Harry’s grasp. The look on Harry’s face had you laughing, and Harry immediately looked over at you, giving you a stern look. However, you were laughing, so it was hard for him not to crack a smile as well. Your phone vibrated in your pocket some minutes later, and you walked a distance away as not to be in the way.

“Lallo, hiya.” You greeted, scrunching your nose up as you felt the first droplet of rain hit it.

“Il mio amore,” Alessandro greeted, a sigh of relief leaving his lips. “How’s the photoshoot?”

“Not really done much yet, but everything’s fine so far.”

He sighed again. “I am glad to hear. Did the suit fit nice like it’s supposed to?”

You glanced at Harry over your shoulder, standing on the pavement further down, ready to film. He ran a hand through his hair, looking up at the white sky with big eyes. It was almost as if you could see the peaceful green of his irises. His neck was stretched as he bowed his head back, closing his eyes and letting a few raindrops fall into his face. He looked almost dreamy; peaceful for a few moments as he collected himself. Someone shouted something and Harry blinked his eyes open, looking at the director. Suddenly, his eyes went to you, but they flickered away just as quickly. You looked away.

“It fits.”

“Nothing bad’s happened?”

You kicked at a stone on the ground. “What does that mean?”

“Harry ruining the suit.”

You huffed out a small laugh through your nose. “Do you have that little faith in him?”

“He gets clumsy when he’s nervous.”

You frowned. “Harry isn’t nervous.”

“Are you sure?” Alessandro asked, you could tell he was narrowing his eyes and putting his hand on his hip. He was challenging you. “Really sure?”

“Look,” you started walking towards the make-up van, aware that you most likely had to go get the make-up artist and hairdresser out if it was going to start raining. “Everything’s okay. There’s nothing to worry about. If you were worried this was going to be a fail, why didn’t you prioritise this event?”

“Fine, fine. It’s not you I’m worried about, no? It’s that…” Alessandro paused for some seconds. “It’s Harry’s first Gucci shoot and I’m not there. What if something goes wrong?”

“Then I’m there to fix it. Why I’m here, remember?” You spotted the van. “I’m your eyes, ears, and hands today.”

Alessandro laughed. “Il mio amore, what would I do without you?”

“Do not know. I really don’t.”

He laughed again and you two hung up just as you knocked on the door to the make-up van. Informing them that it was drizzling out and that they might have to come do a touch-up if it got worse, you walked in as they got everything they needed. A selection of suits hung on a rack on one end of the van, some twins in case something were to happen, and others were lone ones. Regardless, you always found Alessandro’s ability to make clothes into a form of art so inspiring. It was what made you want to work with him in the first place. An abundance of colours and fabrics, of softness and roughness, of modern and rustic. The things he thought to make you’d never in your wildest dreams think of, which made doing anything for him so fascinating. Always something new, always something spellbinding.

You followed the crew out and in the direction of the shoot. It wasn’t drizzling as much anymore, but this was still England, something that meant it would happen anytime soon. The artists were chatting amongst themselves as you made your way over, you read over an email on your phone. Suddenly though, the heels that had walked right beside you stopped. You glanced up from your phone, over your shoulder at the three ladies you had gotten to help you. They stared straight ahead, and when you averted your eyes, letting them land on what they were seeing, you almost dropped your phone.

The hen Harry had been holding was flapping about, two crew members chasing it while a third one ran over to help. Someone was shouting “Stop recording” and someone else “Get the fucking chicken”. But the worst part of it all – at least for you – was Harry getting up from the asphalt. There was a furrow to his brows as he checked his suits for scratches, stopping when he saw the rip at his knee. Your brain immediately flashed back to what Alessandro had just told you.

Harry’s eyes shot up, hastily scanning the crowd around him, and you quickly realised he was looking for you. Stepping forward, you saw him relax some when his eyes landed on you. He jogged over, groaning through his teeth.

“I-“

“-Get to the bloody van, I need to take a look at the rest of your suit.”

“But there’s only the knee.” Harry said as you two started walking.

“I’m not taking your word for it.”

This seemed to become a theme for Harry’s shoots. His anxiety would get the better of him, though he did get more confident with each one that went by. It wasn’t something he was amazing at at first, but something that grew on him overtime. Just like the seasons changed from winter to spring to summer, Harry slowly got his feet off the slippery ice he seemed to have been on that first shoot in England.

However, a few months later, you were back in Italy, doing another shoot with Gucci. Harry was wearing one of the suits you had tailored for him; a checked one, a blue shirt, a silk bandana around his neck and another one in his hair. Since the last shoot, the two of you had talked over the phone, texted, and sent each other funny memes on Instagram. You hadn’t met up a whole lot, maybe the odd café trip or two with some friends, but nothing beyond that. So, meeting him in Italy, your second home, was incredibly special to you.

You were on the outside of Rome, Villa Lente, and you had spent most of your morning yawning and getting looks from Alessandro when you did so. Harry yawned with you when he caught you doing so, the two of you giggling at how ridiculous you were being. With raised eyebrows, Alessandro watched the two of you, giving you a slight flick to the arm when you distracted Harry.

But it was when Harry was perched on the stone wall, dragging some hair out of his face as he placed himself steadily on it, that was then it happened. The sun hit him just right, making the ruffle of his curls look like a golden halo around his head; green irises switching to the colour of autumn leaves where the light hit them. He looked ethereal. And in the middle of all of this, Harry reached for the lamb he was supposed to be perching on his shoulders. No one thought Harry would actually fall off the wall. No one thought he was that clumsy. But as he was hurtling towards the ground having lost his footing completely, the realisation that he was indeed that clumsy hit you just as Harry hit the stone staircase beneath the wall.

Alessandro exclaimed a few crude words in Italian, running to Harry’s aid. You stood there blinking, getting yourself back from the slight daydream you’d just had about the poor man that laid on the ground with a dozen people around him. One second he had looked like something straight out of a dream; like an angel that had come down to earth. He had looked too good and you simply had not been able to look away from him. You knew Harry was good looking, you weren’t blind, but something about the sun hitting him like that, when he smiled down at you watching him, how carefully he styled his hair when he at up on that stone wall. It did something to you.

But all of that disappeared right away when Harry hit the ground, exclaiming a grunt of pain. Alessandro was by his side in seconds, speaking so fast you had trouble understanding him. Harry held onto his knee, yet again having ripped the suit and once again bleeding, only this time it was his hand. Why was it always his knee and why did he always end up bleeding? It was only so clumsy a person could get, wasn’t it? And yet, Harry Styles seemed to be proving you very wrong. No one was as easily affected by their anxiety as him.

People crowded him, ready to be of help and to get him standing. It wasn’t like he had broken any bones, because he was able to get up onto his feet without trouble, but the fall had definitely hurt regardless. Your eyes locked as Harry’s arm came to rest around Alessandro’s shoulders, the designer helped him over to the van. Once again, Harry had to change trousers.

“How?” you simply asked, unsure what best way to even address the whole situation.

“Don’t,” Harry shook his head, not in the mood to have you take the mick out of him for this. “Hurts like a fucking cunt.”

Alessandro pinched Harry’s side, making him yelp and put more pressure on his knee than he wanted to, ultimately getting him to gasp. Harry glanced at the designer, an annoyed furrow forming between his brows.

“Why’d you do that?”

“You were being rude.”

“Pinching a wounded man is rude.” Harry removed his arm from around Alessandro, limping towards the van. “I’m getting changed.”

You glanced at Alessandro, both of you knowing that no matter what, Harry would be in a bad mood for a bit now. That always happened when something didn’t go according to plan; he’d get grumpy and need some time alone. One of the assistants was about to follow him, clearly having gotten some orders from the photographer, Glen Luchford, or art director, Christopher Simmonds. You put your hand out warning them from following the already irritated and hurting star of the photoshoot. He just needed 10 minutes to cool off, and then you’d be off after him to make sure he was alright.

Once 10 minutes had passed, you knocked on the door of the make-up van, hearing a grumble of sorts before stepping inside. Harry was standing unzipping his trousers and shimmying them down his hip. It reminded you a bit of the tailoring you had done at the beginning of the year, how he had pushed both his trousers and boxers down so you could get his measurements right. He glanced over his shoulder at you before he sat down, now only his boxers covering the top part of his thighs and crotch.

“Don’t stand there looking for too long,” he said, bending over to get the trousers completely off. “I might end up turning you on.”

You stepped inside, closing the door and walking over to the first-aid kit. You felt Harry’s eyes on you as he sat back, placing the ripped trousers on the chair beside him. Getting some cotton, you put a mild soap on it and poured it under water before walking back over to Harry. You sat down in a chair, getting closer to him, and taking his hand. As you turned it over to look at the scratch on his palm, you could tell that it wasn’t as bad as you’d thought it to be, but it still looked like it’d hurt. Carefully, you dabbed the wound, making sure to clean it up. Harry hissed through his teeth, watching as the cotton came out dirty. It hadn’t been the cleanest ground he’d landed on and you didn’t want him to get an infection.

Getting up, you got another piece of cotton and did the same, dragging the chair even closer to Harry now. Taking his hand this time around, your knuckles brushed his thigh, the dark downy hair you hadn’t noticed till now. How his boxers rested tightly around his thighs, and how far up they were, revealing more than you were intended to see. Your cheeks felt hot and you focused on his hand, lifting it from his leg so you didn’t have to feel his warm, bare thigh against your knuckles. There wasn’t really a trace of any dirt on it now, but you wanted to be sure you’d gotten everything before you let him outside again.

You were very aware Harry could rinse his own wound himself. He didn’t need people to do everything for him, he liked doing most things himself, in fact. And though both of you were sat there knowing you didn’t have to, neither stopped it. Slowly, Harry’s eyes came to rest at your face. They stayed there, just watching you tend to him so carefully. When people go out of their way to help you, to make sure you’re okay, those are the kind of people to hold onto for life. The kind of people who will buy you sweets when you need it on a bad day, who will force themselves to be in a cheery mood to better yours, who will kiss your eyelids when you go back to sleep after a nightmare. The kind of people who will rinse your wound when you get hurt when you’re perfectly capable of doing so yourself.

You didn’t know why you looked up, didn’t know what made you do it. Maybe it was your subconscious that knew if you did, you’d find something you’d been searching for your whole life. Maybe something inside you knew that glancing up, you’d see something you hadn’t before. Your eyes met Harry’s, and though you had stared into them on numerous occasions before, something shifted in that moment. With his hand in your hand, his bare knee resting against yours, eyes glancing intently into yours; it was like something bigger than yourselves took over. You felt it on your heart first, like a warm tingling that spread out to every single one of your limbs and cells. It felt like you were drunk; head hazy and feelings heightened. Everything about Harry before you was greater, brighter; more.

“You need to finish the shoot.” You said, knowing that Alessandro would undoubtedly not appreciate the two of you taking this long.

Harry didn’t answer. He just stared at you, like he was seeing something spectacular for the first time and he couldn’t look away. The look in his eyes softened as he gulped, his Adam’s apple moving with a lump in his throat he clearly had trouble swallowing. For a split second, you could swear you saw his eyes rest to your lips. Following the shape of them, savouring the colour of them. Neither of you realised you were moving in. It wasn’t till the sight of Harry started to blur and the room seem to fill with electricity that you realised just how close you were. You stopped, pulling a bit away till you saw him clearly, but a slight wrinkle to his brows told you he hadn’t appreciated that. Just as you were about to lean in again, to an unknown fate between the two of you, there was a loud knock on the door and a second later it flew open. You pushed away from him, barely even touching his hand as you finished rinsing the wound. Harry blinked, clearing his throat and looking over his shoulder at Alessandro who stood there glancing back at him.

“Well?” Alessandro asked, gesturing behind him at the shoot that had been momentarily stopped.

“Yeah,” Harry said, eyes meeting yours before he dragged his hand out of your grip. “Just a sec.”

Harry got up, walking over to the wardrobe to get changed. Instantly, you threw the cotton away and walked outside with Alessandro, ready to forget the whole moment and never think of it again. But it was easier said than done. The rest of that shoot, that day, that week, it was all you could think about.

Unfortunately, after that shoot, you and Harry hadn’t been able to see one another  It was finally that time of year when you had a bit of time off to relax, and this time it happened to fall in the middle of July. It gave you the perfect opportunity to do nothing more than wander the streets of your home, see some old friends, and fully enjoy the beauties that an Italian summer had to offer. But no matter how happy you were for the time off, it was bittersweet because although Harry had just finished his world tour and now had an abundance of free time on his hands, he was fully booked until you’d see him for your next shoot.

You didn’t fault him for how he spent his time off, he did just get home after a long year long world tour, and that did warrant some time alone. But you did have to admit that you missed seeing him. Somewhere in your mind, you recall him saying he was spending some time in Italy up north with his family, but the dates were jumbled and you didn’t want to disturb his peace. Instead, you settled for knowing you’d see him again in a few short months.

You had set out for the day in order to find some new houseplants, seeing as the young girl who kept yours tended to while you were away - Lilliana - always seemed to let them wilt. It was the most perfect day to stroll down to the market and see some of the florists you’d missed while you were away, what with the sun shining it’s brightest and only the tiniest breeze ghosting by your cheeks. But you wouldn’t have it any other way. This was your time to bask in the sunlight before heading back to dreary London for some time.

Sandals clapping against the cobblestone walkway echoed through the quiet street, the sound of faint music playing from a nearby open window was carried by the breeze, filling in any silence that would be there otherwise. This was the life you had dreamt about as a child, the kind of life that you only got to read about in books or watch in films, yet here you were. It was yet another reason you had to be thankful to Alessandro for.

“Mi scusi, signora.”

You often walked down the small side street with your eyes closed briefly, not only knowing it like the back of your hands, but also basking in the warmth of the sun, so it wasn’t anything new to have someone speak up to let you know they were near. But something about that voice was familiar. Like when you walk into your home for the first time in a while and you can smell you. Like you can’t exactly put a finger on it, but you know it’s familiar, so you investigate. Which you did, and it caused you to gasp.

“Harry?”

“In the flesh.” his smile could rival the brightness of the sun that was shining between in the tall buildings as he walked up the slight incline of the street towards you.

“What are you doing here?”

“Was in the neighborhood and through I’d stop by. See my favorite tailor.” Once he finally reached you, your arms were instantly wrapped around one another, squeezing like you hadn’t just been together weeks ago.

“Wha - how are yo-?”

“Don’t tell me you’re speechless. You? Of all people?” he laughed, pulling away after giving a few rubs to your back.

“I know you didn’t come all the way to Montaione to take the piss, Harry.” you took this time to really look at him after your surprise meet up. He looked remarkable, something that quite annoyed you considering he was dressed so casually. Then again, the man could pull off close to anything. He was wearing a pair of grey trousers; a single pleat running from his waist to ankles down the middle of the leg, a plain white t shirt that perfectly accentuated his dark tattoos, and a royal blue bandana that hung loosely from around his neck. The pair of sunglasses he had worn when walking up to you were now being hung from the bandana so that he could get a better look at you, and if you had to look at his sparkling green eyes for any second longer, you were sure you would combust.

“Despite how easy it is to get under your skin, I, surprisingly, didn’t come here to do anything other than see you for a few hours.”

“A few hours? You traveled down from Modena just to hangout for a few hours?”

“Knew I was in Modena then? Keeping tabs on me while we’re apart, are you?”

Your hand jut out and shoved him hard enough to make him lose a bit of balance while you two started walking down the street, just enough so that he had to take a few steps to the side to stabilize himself.

“Thought you weren’t here to take the piss, knob.”

He laughed, nodding his head and sliding his sunglasses back onto his face. “Alright alright. Truce. But to answer your question, yes I did. That a bad thing?”

“Uh, no it’s not. Just a bit surprising is all. That’s a bit of a journey just for lunch.”

“And I’d make it countless more times for you.”

Over the last two years, you grew to know Harry and when he was being serious or having a laugh, so you could instantly hear the sincerity behind his words. Despite the goofy grin playing at his lips, you knew that he was being truthful, and the thought made butterflies awaken in your belly.

“It’s good to see you, Harry.” the nod you gave was more towards yourself, but when you glanced up at Harry, you saw that he was already watching you, smiling as he took in your relaxed aura.

“You too, doll.”

“How’d you find me, anyway?” just as you did each time you met up, the two of you fell into easy conversation as you made your way towards the village square. Harry was one of those people that you could go months without talking to, yet somehow, the second you met back up again, you were able to pick up right where you left off.

“Alessandro may or may not have given it to me.” his voice was timid, like he didn’t fully want to admit he had asked your boss where you lived.

“Of course he did.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“He’s obsessed with you, you know?”

“He’s not.”

“Mhm. Says you’re his shining star. ‘M sure the man would create a whole collection surrounding you if you give him enough time.”

“Says the woman who he looks at like his next of kin.”

“Don’t make this into a pissing contest, Harry. You know he adores you.”

“Just him?”

It felt like spending time with a lifelong mate when with Harry, but when he said shit like that, when he made your tummy flutter with his mix of words and longing gazes, it made it hard for you to see him as just a friend.

“Didn’t you say that you only had a bit before having to get back?” you changed the subject quickly, not wanting to answer his question.

“Not get back, ‘m not headed back to Modena.” he shook his head when you sent him a soft, questioning ‘no?’ “Nope. Flying down to Sicily for a few days for Google Camp.”

“Google Camp?” your eyebrows shot up in question when he told you, “A sumit for the rich and famous to talk about climate change while flying in on private jets and yachts. How very unlike you mister Styles.”

“Oi, lay off. Got invited, didn’t I? Wasn’t going to turn it down. Besides,” he shrugged, “‘M flying commercial and carpooling. Being as eco friendly as possible.”

“Course, of course.”

“I have four hours until my flight, so just shut up and come get lunch with me.”

The room had gone totally dim during your trip down memory lane, indicating that it was time for everyone to begin getting in their places so that the show could begin. But even in the low lighting, it wasn’t hard to miss the look of fear and doubt flash through Harry’s eyes. The look was something that appeared before every shoot or campaign you had been present for, only lasting seconds, yet always intriguing to you. The man before you was a superstar, someone who pranced around on stage in front of tens of thousands of people every night, without a care in the world. Yet, as soon as your exquisitely tailored clothes touched his body, his shoulders would tense, and he looked like a scared child. You’d never understood why.

“You’re nervous.” It came out as more of a breathy statement than a question.

“‘M terrified.”

You heard those words regularly from your models, especially the new ones, but hearing it fall from between his lips made your stomach tighten. Harry was such a natural at all of this; the superstardom. It was easy to tell that he felt right at home while on stage, how perfectly natural his body reacted whenever the camera was on for a red carpet, how easy going he was when it came to hair and makeup and outlandish outfits. All of it came so easy to him and it blew you away every time you got to witness it. And while he was so good at adjusting quickly to new environments, his team and fans constantly cheering him on with every new endeavor, he was still just a normal twenty five year old guy. He still FaceTimed his mum to get her opinion on new looks, still went out and enjoyed his free time with mates, and still got anxious when trying something new. He never seemed to want to disappoint you or Alessandro when he was wearing the clothes you’d made for him specifically. That was what got to him, you thought, the prospect of ruining spectacular clothes you’d made from scratch. The moments in time you’d just thought back on was indicator enough.

“It’s gonna be great. We saw you during the runthrough yesterday.” you smiled, reminding him how well he had done during the practice show.

“But that’s different. This time it means somethin-” he was cut off by Alessandro yelling it was time for all models to officially line up for showtime. “What if I go too fast and I step on Mae’s shoe, fuck up her walk? Or too slow and clog up the entire runway? Or the hat fal-”

“Hey!” To stop his incessant worrying, your hands grabbed either side of his face, making him stop for a second and look directly at you. He blinked once. “Stop it. You’re going to do amazing. Alessandro wouldn’t have put you in this show if he didn’t have complete confidence in you. And you should know by now I wouldn’t have wasted my oh so precious time making any of this fit you perfectly if I didn’t believe in you.”

Harry’s breathing began calming down, going from almost hysterical to a gentle, rhythmic, intake, indicating that he was coming out of his panic bubble. His eyes never left your own, quite different from all the times they had openly roamed your figure.

“You can do this.” You whispered, nodding slightly and sending him a loving smile as your hands dropped back down to your sides,

Alessandro’s voice yelled over everyone, demanding everyone be in their place immediately, but Harry made no move to leave your side. He continued staring at you, taking a few deep breaths every few seconds and nodding to himself, seeming to give himself a pep talk in his head. The lights went out in the museum, leaving the audience in complete darkness, and you knew the intense sound of an alarm would soon be echoing through the building to start the show.

But none of that held your attention.

In what could have only been a second, Harry’s lips were pressed against yours. It was so quick that you didn’t have time to register what had happened before he was turning to run and join the other models, but it left you stunned. Like being in the warmth of your home during a snowy day and suddenly opening the door, letting the freezing wind hit you in the face.

And as much as the kiss had taken you off guard, it felt so very right that small second it happened. He hadn’t even given it a second thought, leaning in to kiss you like the two of you had been an item for years and it was part of your normal everyday routine. Like it was the most natural thing in the world, and the thought alone made your fingertips ache to be on his skin again. Shaking yourself out the haze that had formed around you mind, your focus and priorities flipped like a switch as soon as the siren began playing, looking around the room to make sure everyone and everything was where it needed to be.  

Just as the precession of models began exiting the dressing room, and The Shadows Die Twice by Br1002 ranging throughout the museum, you made your way up to stand beside Alessandro. There was never a time you saw him truly stressed; not when you first started working with him and you accidentally ruined an entire bundle of fabric, not when he was in charge of creating dozens of different looks for the Met Gala, and not even now, watching as his newest collection strutted down the runway, making its worldwide debut. He was the epitome of cool, calm, and collected.

“There she goes.” You admired, resting your head on your boss’ shoulder and watching all 217 of the looks he created and you helped bring to life, be released into the world.

The sense of pride that rushed through your veins each and every time you got to see the pieces you put your heart and soul into, was similar to what you could only imagine it was like for a parent to watch their child flourish. You could remember all the moments during the months leading up to the show that you wanted to quit, when you would get so frustrated with Alessandro and his brilliantly creative mind every time he brought you a new look idea, how badly you wanted to scream after pricking your fingers so much they started to bruise. You remembered all of those times when holding such an important job at Gucci felt like something you just weren’t ready for at the age of twenty four. But every hardship was worth it the moment your work came to a culmination. This moment of absolute pride and excitement.

“How are you feeling?”

Alessandro wrapped his right arm around your shoulder, pulling you so close to his body that it was most comfortable for you to wrap one arm around his back and one around his waist, your hands joining together at his hip. “I feel so much love.”

That was the only way to describe what the two of you were feeling as the show progressed through the museum. Even though the room was dark, tall lighting setups hung in every direction, and hundreds of guests were posted up in chairs, the beauty of the location still shined through. Black and white marble covered the floor throughout the entire building, the diamond pattern flowing easily from room to room, and sculptures of ancient men lined each side of the hallway, seemingly growing from the walls because of the similar colors. About halfway down the hallway, models made a left turn and entered the large area known as Palazzo Nuovo. The “New Palace” was constructed over 400 years ago and was an identical replica of the Palazzo dei Conservatori that Michaelangelo created. You had been to the location many times before since spending 6 months at a time in Italy, but you had never seen it as a place to hold a show. Not until Alessandro had brought you one day and explained his vision as you roamed the hallways.

The quick pass of a red beret on one of the monitors, set up for the backstage team to watch the show, caught your attention. He stayed on camera for a bit, and you wished you could watch his fans meltdown over it in real time because he looked exquisite. Despite the darkness of the room, Harry was glowing. The way the strobe lights would hit his face every few steps and accentuate his already angelic features made your stomach clench. You had spent countless hours up close and personal with Harry, while there was very little fabric covering his body; very intimate and unforgettable moments. Many a-second-too-long looks, smiles when the other wasn’t watching, and an intense almost kiss. And an actual kiss. A tiny kiss. A kiss you still felt on your lips. But now, you were getting hot and bothered thinking about his lips while he strutted down the runway in one of the most conservative outfits of the line.

There was something about the lapel rolls of the jacket flapping open slightly with each step, beautifully showcasing his sparrow tattoos and delicate pendant necklace under the dim lights, that excited you. But it was the faintest smile that graced his lips the second before he left frame that made your heart swell.

The overall look he was sporting was extremely similar to that of his first Men’s Tailoring campaign, with the long robe like jacket and exposed chest, but the glint of both happiness and confidence in his eyes reminded you of the moment you put him into the pink and red ensemble of his latest campaign. Something that still made something inside your tummy flutter and the corners of your mouth tip upward.

“Absolutely fucking not.” Harry said. “I will die. 100%.”

“Stop being so dramatic.” You rolled your eyes, holding the pink blazer up and letting him put both his arms through it. “It’s just pigs.”

“That will have my head if I get too close.”

“This is a Gucci shoot, you’re not on I’m a Celeb.”

Harry huffed, looking at himself in the mirror and adjusting the blazer over his shoulders properly. “Watch me go on I’m a Celeb and die when I get attacked by an exotic animal or summat.”

“A pig won’t be the death of you and it’s not an exotic animal, now shut up and sit down.” You wagged the red bandana at him. “I need to put this on you before we can get this started.”

“Alright then.” Harry shoved his wrists out for you. “Go on.”

You tried to give him a disappointed look, but you simply were not able to. Laughing, you shoved Harry into his seat, standing between his legs as you tied the bandana around his head. This time around, the shoot was mostly indoors, so there weren’t many ways Harry could fuck this one up. Alessandro was busying himself and so were other crew members, walking about you two and shouting orders at someone else, but neither of you noticed anyone but the person before you. Since the lunch in Florence, you had been incredibly busy, so you hadn’t really had much time to meet up. Harry, who was currently travelling and making his second album, hadn’t been available much either, but you were both over the moon that you got to spend this time together. You really missed each other the time you were away.

Since last time, Alessandro had gone out of his way to make rings for those he held dearest. Gold Gucci rings with each person’s initials, one for each letter, big and bold. It had taken you off guard, as you hadn’t thought yourself to be as important to Alessandro as he was to you, but he had insisted and showed you his own. He told you “Dear friends match” and that did it for you, you simply had to wear his rings without question. And since then, you had been wearing them every single day. You felt part of his little family. So when Harry showed up to your third shoot together, wearing matching rings to yours, you felt your heart skip a beat and Alessandro’s knowing eyes on both of you. He would never admit it out loud, but he knew how you both felt for one another, and he thought, by giving you these rings, you might realise how special you were to him and then see how special you were to one another as well.

“You’ll just have to forget about your fear of geese and be a professional.”

“I don’t have a bloody fear of geese.”

You shrugged your shoulders, tying the bandana properly.

“I don’t!”

“Alright, mate.”

Harry paused for a second. “Don’t ‘mate’ me.”

You shook your head, choosing to ignore the comment and how it made literally every inch of your body heat up. Taking a step back you studied him, giving him a thumbs up before you walked over to the other suits you had to check up on for the shoot. Harry watched you for a few seconds before he got up from the chair, going to check himself out in the mirror again. Your phone suddenly vibrated against the desk right in front of the mirror, and Harry’s eyes instantly fell to it. A furrow appeared between his brows.

“Who’s Jack?”

You glanced over your shoulder, seeing Harry read the text you just got. “Hey!”

“Who is he?” he asked again, looking over at you as you came rushing over. You took the phone, pressing it to your chest as if it was going to make Harry forget what he’d just read. He tried to add a playful undertone to his voice, a slight smile across his lips.

“None of your business.”

Harry looked away from you, nodding as he busied himself with trying to get some kind of lint off his coat. “You’re right.”

You put the phone back in your jean pocket and walked over to the suits again, hunching down to check the seam on the hem on the trousers. You felt your phone vibrate with another notification or vibrate as a reminder that she’d gotten a text two minutes prior. Getting up and about to reach back to check what Jack had wanted, she felt a breath against her neck.

“You’re seeing him then?”

You jumped, holding your hand to your chest as you turned around to face him. “None of your business!”

“Oh, come on!”

You shoved him out of the way, way too much to do to be distracted by Harry’s nosiness. Strolling over to the desk, you started looking through your calendar when Harry showed up beside you again. Leaning on his elbow on the desk, he looked up at you, trying to sound as nonchalant as possible considering how curious he actually was.

“Is he fit at least?”

“He’s not annoying.” You said, covering his face with your hand. You felt him smile into your palm. “Ever tried that?”

“Tried being annoying?” Harry asked. “Wouldn’t know where to start.”

You shoved him away, making him lose his balance some and lean both his elbows on the desk. He watched as you walked back to the suits, looking at which ones Alessandro said were to be used by Harry and which ones were to be used by someone else at another time. Just as Harry was about to ask another question about Jack – who was just a mate from back home you hadn’t ever talked to him about because he’d never come up in conversation -, there was a knock at the wardrobe door. Alessandro stood there, a raise to his eyebrows and a small smile on his lips that was almost hidden by his dark, thick, long beard. He’d stood there watching you two for a little while, you thought to yourself.

“Is Harry ready for the shoot?”

“Yes,” you glanced at Harry and pointed at Alessandro. “Go.”

Harry sighed but got up, walking over to Alessandro who was smiling, encouraging Harry to do the same. As he passed him, a small beam was on Harry’s lips, but as he walked through the door, you couldn’t tell if he was still smiling or if he just did it to Alessandro wouldn’t make him. The creative director looked over at you, crossing his arms but not losing his smile.

“What?”

Alessandro shrugged.

“No, what?”

“You could’ve at least told him who Jack was.” Alessandro chuckled.

You rolled your eyes.

“But I get that you want to watch him suffer. It’s funny seeing someone you like be jealous.”

“Harry isn’t jealous.” You said, closing the calendar and placing it neatly back on the desk. “He’s just nosy.”

Alessandro didn’t say anything in response, instead he just walked on over to the shoot, leaving you alone with your thoughts. You weren’t really sure why you hadn’t just told Harry who Jack was. It wasn’t like anything was going on between you and Jack, you were simply mates and he wanted to check up on you and see how things were going. You had absolutely nothing to hide. Especially nothing to the point of keeping your phone close to your chest so he wouldn’t reread the message you’d just gotten, holding no significance whatsoever.

Maybe Alessandro was right. Maybe you did want to see if he was jealous or not. But he didn’t seem jealous to you, just his nosy self. Sighing, you followed Alessandro, ready to be of service if something should go wrong. They hadn’t even started shooting when you walked into the room, they were still walking around, placing the different statues and other props around the place to get it to look exactly like the producer wanted it to. You stood watching for a bit, knowing that your phone was still in your back pocket, untouched since Harry had seen the innocent text from Jack.

Suddenly, you felt a presence behind you, saw a shadow mingle with yours, and you recognised the messy hair and the bandana you’d wrapped around his head earlier. Smiling, you continued to stare ahead, waiting a minute before Harry felt brave enough to answer.

“Did you answer Jack then?” You felt the breath of his words against your hair.

“He just wanted to know how I was, Harry.”

“I know.”

You bit your lip, not looking back at him.

“Guess he just wanted to talk. To feel close to you in a way.”

You huffed, standing your ground and not looking back at him like you knew he wanted you to. “And the point of this is…?”

“Being close to someone you love can calm you down.” Harry said, voice low so only the two of you could hear him. You felt a shiver run up your spine. “Like shelter in a storm; entering a small house and staying for tea before braving the terrible weather again, a little stronger this time with some motivation from those you… hold closest to your heart.”

Your breath hitched somewhere in your throat, feeling both Harry’s breath and eyes on you. It took everything in you not to look at him, to see his soft expression after uttering those equally soft words. “I’m not in love with Jack, Harry.”

Harry was quiet for a second before he said, with the hint of a smile in his voice, “Okay.”

You smiled yourself, wanting to say something in response but not knowing what would be appropriate. You weren’t even sure why you were feeling this much or why Harry being elated you weren’t seeing someone made you this happy. He stood right behind you, just as close, not wavering, till he had to go do the shoot. Walking backwards, he made sure to catch your eye, give you a small smile, before going to do his job. You hated how your cheeks felt hot, that every single time Harry’s dimples appeared you heard something inside your head scream and the every single one of your cells react to him. Glancing over at Alessandro, you caught the creative director watching you with a grin on his face. As soon as your eyes met, though, he turned away, forcing his smile away and pretending like he hadn’t seen a thing. You rolled your eyes, focusing all your attention on Harry, who didn’t let his anxiety get the better of him this time around.

“He’s doing very well.” Alessandro commented, his left hand resting on his chin in a pondering manner.

“He is.”

“Because you replaced his nerves before the show.” From under his hand, you could see a small smirk playing on his lips, his eyes never leaving the monitor.

“I - what?” Lifting away from his side, you stared at Alessandro’s face. And your wide eyes must have made you look like a deer in the headlights because he started chuckling.

You were positive that no one had seen your moment with Harry, considering how dark the little corner you were stood in was. Backstage at a fashion show was crazy enough, there’s no way anyone had been paying attention to the tailor in the back of the room. But the knowing look in your boss’s eyes told you otherwise.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” you muttered, folding your arms across your chest.

“Eyes all over my head, il mio amore. I see everything.”

Alessandro had been like this from the moment he introduced you and Harry, almost two years ago at this point. Always motioning from across the room for you to stand just a bit closer to Harry, informing you whenever Harry was remotely near the office, and always leaving the two of you alone each time he was scheduled for a fitting. It was like he was making it his life’s mission to get his two prodigies together.

“Don’t laugh at me. This is your fault, you know?”

Feigning offence and his hand moved from his chin to his chest, Alessandro turned away from the monitor to finally look directly at you, “Mine? Why do you say that?”

“‘You have a lot in common.’ or how about, ‘look at my two loves together!’ or my personal favorite, ‘The two of you together, assolutamente da togliere il fiato!’”your impersonation of him had gotten extremely good over the last few years, bringing a soft smile to his lips. “Any of those ringing any bells?”

“Only encouraging what you both know to be true, cara.”

“You’re absurd.”

At this point, the first model had made his way back to the dressing room, immediately going to line up for the final walk through. It was scheduled to be a quick show, only about thirteen minutes from first walk to last, but you never imagined it would go by this fast. As the models began to line back up, both you and Alessandro separated, going to either side of the line to join the other tailor in making sure each outfit was still in its pristine condition. You you had a few loose threats to snip here, and a broken necklace to dispose of there, but overall, everyone was still looking perfect.

Especially Harry.

His head was craned, watching you as you made your way down the line behind him, and as soon as you stepped in front of him to quickly examine his apparel, he whispered your name.

“Haven’t tripped yet.” he smirked, adjusting the red glasses on his nose.

“I know, I was watching.”

“Yeah?”

“Mhm. We were talking about you. Turn around.” grabbing hold of his shoulder, you pulled forward, “Making him proud, you know.”

His shoulders relaxed under your palms, like hearing the news of making one of his idols happy set him free and he could now have the utmost fun with the final walk through.

“Alright. Good luck.”

But before you could get to the next model, his hand caught your arm. In any other situation, you’d be annoyed that you were being stopped from completing your job, but the look on Harry’s face made all worries about any other model fade from your mind.

“What about you?”

“What about me?”

“Are you proud?”

The question took you off guard. Was really that concerned with what you thought of his performance? He was one of the most renowned superstars in the world, who danced his heart out on stage and did what made him happy no matter what others thought. But your opinion was the one who made his hands clam up? And had you ever made him feel like you weren’t proud? You always thought your quick jabs to one another were all in good fun, but maybe you had gone too far and made him doubt himself.

“Always proud of everything you do.”

It was the honest answer. Getting to watch him excel in every aspect of life he threw himself into, make decisions that helped so many people, putting his friends and family first, and making sure he was happy above all else, was inspiring to say the least. There was never a day that went by where you didn’t feel immense pride for even just getting the chance to know Harry. And in that moment, you promised yourself that you would make it more apparent to him from then on.

A large smile spread across his face, and even in the poor lighting, you could see the apples of his cheeks turn a rosey pink. He looked undeniably cute and following your heart as well as Alessandro’s previous encouragements, you decided to take a leap of faith.

“Come find me after the show. Gotta talk.”

The happiness faded from both his face and his eyes, and you instantly regretted the way you phrased your sentence. “Nothing bad, I promise! Just come find me, yeah?”

You had moved on to the next model, giving her a smile and a quick “Hello Mae” and began checking her dress as Harry was still processing your request. His hands were fidgeting with the fingerless gloves and he was undoubtedly about to break skin with how hard he was biting his lip. You felt like a proper idiot for making him nervous again after he was so happy.

“Calm down, would you? You’re starting to stress me out.” you laughed, giving Mae the okay and moving onto the next model. Sending him a wink, you nodded your head, making him well aware of how unserious this conversation was going to be.

A faster paced rendition of The Shadows Die Twice started playing, just as you finished checking over your designated models, indicating that it was time for the final walk through to begin. After these final few minutes, all the garments you had worked tirelessly on for months, would be totally completed. And usually, you would be filled with ease and comfort knowing you would have some time off before your next project. But this time was different.

This time, Alessandro had consulted you on many of the pieces making their way down the runway, showing just how much he valued and trusted your opinion. Never in your wildest dreams did you think you would be where you are today, but because of the man standing next to you, believing in your talent and putting your passion to use, you were living out a dream that you never knew you had.

“Thank you.” You whispered

“For what?”

“For believing in me enough to hire me four years ago. For not letting me give up when I was confused. For always encouraging me. Just - thank you.”

“Never have to thank me for those things, tesoro. The potential and passion inside you needs to be explored! I’m honored I get to be the one to help you embrace them!” Alessandro pulled you into a tight hug, the two of you swaying as you watched the models capture the attention of each guest one last time.

Lifting to stand on your tiptoes you whispered in Alessandro’s ear, but even though your statement was barely loud enough to be heard over the booming music, apparently it was just loud enough for your boss to hear, because his head snapped back and he grabbed you by the shoulders, holding you at arms length.

“What?!”

“Mhm.”

“Together?”

“Mhm.” It was hard not to continue your giggles at his bewildered expression.

“How come?”

You shrugged, “I guess I just have a bloody persuasive boss.”

Once again, models began entering the dressing room, but this time, instead of staying in strict model mode, they were letting loose. Smiles were spread all over their faces, rushing to give each other hugs and words of encouragement. It was a beautiful sight to watch, the release of pressure the show brought to the models and the absolute joy they were now basking in.

“Il tuo tempo per brillare, rockstar.” your time to shine, rockstar. giving his shoulder a pat, you watched as he sucked in a deep breath, preparing himself to walk the runway and accept the congratulatory applause about to be thrown his way once the last model had arrived backstage.

It was during this part, for some reason, that you always saw a bit of his nerves pop out. Maybe it was because of all the wandering eyes and unknown opinions, but walking out to thank the guests for attending seemed to be the only thing that ever made Alessandro nervous. And you would never admit it to him, but you enjoyed seeing him a bit on edge, reminded you that he wasn’t just some fashion robot, but a man who just wanted to be accepted for his unique and creative mind.

Your position in the back room made it easy to be a part of both atmosphere’s; the juxtaposition between the loud, bustling back room and angelic, calming sound of Bach - St. John Passion BWV 245: Herr echoing off of the marble walls was like a metaphor for your life these last few months. How at times, everything around you was so busy and fast paced that it was sometimes hard to get a handle on what was happening. But then moments like this happened and none of failures or pricked fingers mattered. Because watching your boss, the man you admired with all your heart and were lucky to call a friend, walk down his own runway, accepting love he deserved, on pieces you had helped create, was the most heavenly feeling you could imagine.

You watched as he made his way through the museum quickly, stopping every so often to bow his head in gratitude and send kisses to everyone in the audience.

“I see why you like this so much.”

Harry stood next to you, hands buried deep in his pants pockets, the long overcoat pushed back behind his arms, just enough that you got a good view of the sparrow tattoos and the very tip of the bird cage on his rib peaking out from under the white tank top. He didn’t look at you, instead, his eyes were trained on the monitor, watching the man who gave you each the chance to flourish in a world you never expected.

“Hmm? Why’s that?”

“Fucking exihlerating walking down that runway.” he admitted, the sentance coming out in a breathy laugh like he couldn’t believe how much fun he had. “Can’t imagine what it’s like for the people that created it all.”

“Yeah, quite hard coming down from a high like this, so he usually takes a week or so off before jumping back into things.” you chuckled, thinking back to when you’d received an influx of text messages the last time Alessandro had gone off the grid, depicting how much he loved bees and would be incorporating them into the new collection after staying on a bee farm for a few days.

“Alessandro did a phenomenal job.” he paused, finally taking his eyes away from the screen and turning his entire body so that he was now facing you. “But so did you.”

If he hadn’t been staring directly at you, he would have missed the roll of your eyes. Of course, you were thankful to be a part of something so extraordinary, but this was all Alessandro. It was all his vision and even though you were asked to help finalize a few looks, this masterpiece was all thanks to him, and you wouldn’t take credit for any of it.

But before you could explain all of that to Harry, he said your name softly, moving a tad closer so your elbow was just barely touching his stomach. “‘M serious. These may have been his finalized pieces, but you quite literally put it all together. There would be no final product without your work.”

“Harry -”

“Don’t ‘Harry’ me, wanker, you’re bloody amazing at what you do. But you don’t need me to tell you that. Everyone walking around this room is example enough.”

Receiving compliments from Harry wasn’t anything new to you. For as long as you’d known him, he was always looking for the good in people and making sure they knew about it. If you had to guess, that was probably one of the his main qualities that initially drew fans in, because all anyone wanted in life was to feel good; appreciated. And that’s exactly what he had been doing for you since the day he walked through your office doors. It was the little things that made your stomach turn to mush; holding your pin cushion when he knew it would make a session easier for you, bringing you a smoothie when you’d told him you didn’t have time to eat before a shoot, sending you funny memes in the middle of the night, or even just seeing his dimpled smile appear when he finally got to see his immaculately executed wardrobe. No matter what the circumstance was, simply being around Harry made you feel happy, calm, and you didn’t want that feeling to ever go away.

“Just look around an-”

“Do you want to go on a date?” when you’d asked him earlier to find you after the show so you could chat, you didn’t exactly expect the conversation to start out so blunt, but he just looked so cute and sincere telling you in his own way how proud of you he was.

“Wh-“

“There’s, um, there’s this really great restaurant not too far from here. Most delicious pasta you’ll ever eat, not to mention the cutest old couple on the planet runs it and they’ll def-“

“I haven’t eaten since this morning, so if you’re going to keep talking, I’ll just go eat this amazing pasta by myself.”

“Yeah, no, you’re right, that was a dumb que-“ it wasn’t his words that made you stop mid sentence, but more the soft smile that spread across his face, his dimple popping out slightly beneath his growing facial hair. There was no hesitation in his acceptance to your dinner date, contrary to what you were expecting, and it made the tips of your ears warm up. “Oh! Um, perfect. Yeah, great. Okay.”

Never had you been so flustered by the man standing before you. This wouldn’t be the first time you grab a bite to eat with him, and definitely wouldn’t be the first time the two of you spent time alone, but the way he was looking at you, like none of what he just did mattered, was definitely a first.

“Okay, um, just get dressed and I’ll meet you outside?”

“‘M serious, hurry up. Might starve to death while you’re busy chatting.” Harry joked, slowly walking away while still facing you, his finger coming out to point right at you, “Then you’ll have to explain to everyone how your desperate need to talk to everyone you come in contact with, was the reason behind the death of the Harry Styles.”

“Oi, fuck off. Says the man who made sure to learn something about every single person setting up the show today. Go get dressed before I slap the Harry Styles.”

The slight shake of his head kept your attention as he weaved his way through the bustling room, back towards the vanity he had claimed as his own. You’d watched the scene in front of you play out many times before; models spread out throughout the room, some having changed immediately into their own comfortable clothes, some tossing their heads back in eased laughter, and some every sitting back with their feet up, enjoying a basket of chips. No matter how each of them decided to unwind after such a monumental show, it never got old. Because just as they did, you had your own post show ritual.

You didn’t divulge in unhealthy foods or put on your most comfortable pair of socks; you organized your kit one last time. From the moment Alessandro sits you down with his new vision until the last model walks off the runway, you know to keep millions of pins, thread of all colors, buttons of every shape and size, and even some super glue on you at all times. They would undoubtedly get used throughout the months of alterations and mishaps, if not by you, then by a member of your team. So, taking a moment to sit and go through everything once the night was officially over was a sort of release for you. A way for you to touch and feel just how much hard work had gone into your work. How the container holding your pins was considerably lighter, the spool of black thread had nearly vanished, and the pile of band aids in the lower pocket was down to three. All signs that you put your heart and soul into this collection.

There was never any guarantee when Alessandro would find inspiration next and when his next project would begin, meaning you never knew when the next time you’d be opening your kit was. But this time, that wasn’t the case. He had planned at least three more shoots before the years end, so you were only allotted a few weeks of laid back free time this time around.

“Packing up so soon?”

“You know how I like to close out a show.” You chuckled, not turning to look at your boss, but seeing his hand reach out and fingertips graze over the very top of your bag.

“How many this time?”

“28 buttons, nearly the entire tin of pins, 64 band aids, and two mini bottles of wine.”

“You should be proud, il mio amore, that’s two less bottles than last time! It’s about progress!”

“Two less because someone yelled at me less this time around.” Finally getting back to your feet, you turned to face him and noticed that he had thrown his hair up to get it away from his sweaty forehead. “No need to drink if you aren’t crying in the fabric closet.”

“Lo faccio solo con amore, Tesoro, lo sai.” I only do it with love honey, you know. His smile was contagious as he took your hands in his own, giving them a gentle squeeze. “Look at how far you’ve come. Such beautiful art comes from these hands.”

“Do you know what you’ll do until the fragrance shoot?”

“I will be taking Vanni to see my brother. A nice peaceful place to become one again. Where will you go?”

“My flat in Florence has been calling my name for weeks, Lallo.” He smiled fondly at the nickname. “Will probably do some redecorating while I’m there.”

“And some dates, no?”

“I really don’t know why I bother telling you anything. Like my father, you are.”

“Well I am the reason for this, am I not? Seems only right that I know all the details.”

“Details of what?”

“How I’m redecorating my flat in Florence.” Your response was quick, and you sent Alessandro a stern side glare so that he knew not to bring up anything of what you were just speaking of.

“Yes, I told her that I expect pictures.”

“Oh, add me to that list as well then! I’d love to see how you decorate. ‘M always looking for new inspiration.”

“Um, yeah sure. You ready?” if Harry could sense how awkward you felt when he joined you and Alessandro, he made no move to indicate it. Especially now, smiling at your agreement.

“Yup. Ready to enjoy some of Earth’s finest pasta.”

“Oh!” Alessandro brightened at Harry’s words, his back straightened, and eyes widened. “Are you taking him to Chiaro Di Luna?” you nodded, slinging your bag over your shoulder. “Magnifico! A wonderful place you will love!”

“Well he won’t love it if we keep standing here so…”

“Have fun my prodigies!”

Both you and Harry laughed quietly as you finally walked away from the man of the hour. You may have known him in different ways, but each of you got the chance to see a side of Alessandro most people didn’t – parental type figure who wanted nothing but love and prosperity for you both.

“He’s like that with you all the time as well?”

“Hmm?”

You took a glance at him when pressing the button for the lift, just to be met with his warm eyes already looking at you. He looked handsome after the show – not that he wasn’t always handsome, but something about seeing him work so hard and then look so comfortable made your chest tingle. He was wearing a pair of dark yellow corduroy pants – the flare at the ankles not nearly as large as some of the flares he owns, but wide nonetheless – paired with a red and blue striped shirt, a tiny Mickey Mouse head embroidered into the upper left breast and a black bomber jacket.  He looked relaxed and everything that spending time in Italy embodied.

“Does he turn into dad mode on you as well?”

Harry laughed, “He means well.”

It was no surprise that Harry had brought along a plethora of fans, all eagerly awaiting his presence back outside after the show, so there was no way the two of you could casually stroll out of the front doors to get to your late dinner date. Instead, you were walking through the basement hallway so that you could make your speedy escape through the lower side exit, directly across from Cafe Capitolino.

“You think you’d do another?”

“You think I’d be asked to do another?”

Your hand found it’s way up to his forehead as the two of you strolled through Piazelle Caffarelli - the quaintest little park directly across from the museum. In the bright moonlight, the beds of flowers and statues almost appeared to glow, directing your path through the garden.

“What are you doing?”

“Just checking to see if you have a fever.”

“Huh?”

“You must be sick because I’m not seeing your ego anywhere.”

“Oh piss off.” he laughed, lifting his own arm so that he could slap yours - playfully - away from his face. “‘M serious.”

“So am I. You’re one of the most confident people I’ve ever met. I’ve seen you doing your music thing Harry. You’re good and you know it. Where’s that attitude here?”

He was quiet as the two of you finally made it out of the garden and crossed the main street, focusing on stuffing his hands in his jacket pockets and tugging it closer to his torso. His hair had grown quite a lot since the first time you’d met him years ago, and the curls, wild from being kept under a cap for hours, were blowing in the small breeze.

“‘Dunno. I was nervous when I did the film as well. Guess doing something new like this makes me question if I’m given the chance to do it because I’m genuinely good at it, or just because they want my name on it.”

That was a surprise to you. From the moment you met him, you could feel the confidence he emitted. In fact, it rubbed off on most who were working with him. He made the people around him feel confident in themselves and what they were doing, and always encouraged when someone was feeling down.

“You’re very much wanted on this team for what you bring to it, not your name. I’m sorry if you were made to feel anything less.”

“No!” he quickly rebutted, gaining the attention of the few people wandering the street late at night. But he paid no mind to them, only focused on looking at you to make sure you heard what he was saying cearly. “You haven’t, at all. None of you have. Just don’t want to be known as the guy who gets jobs because he was in a band.”

“Can promise you that Lallo wouldn’t have asked you to be a part of so many shoots and such an important show if he didn’t completely and wholeheartedly believe you were perfect for it.”

You watched him nod and mutter a quiet I guess, the moon peeking over the Gran Caffe Roma and highlighting his eyelashes and very tip of his nose so perfectly that he began to look like a statue.

“Lallo?”

“Yeah.” a quick chuckle left your mouth, a hand coming up to rub your cheek while you thought of your response. “After I finished my first collection for him, it was a small one so he could see if I was right for the position, he took me out for drinks to celebrate me getting the job. Long story short, we both had a few too many and I started calling him Lallo and it just stuck.”

“That’s cute.” his hand was wiggling about, trying to escape the confines of the jacket pocket, and when it finally did, it brushed against your own. You both looked down at the close proximity of your hands and you felt the air immediately get thicker. He must have felt the same because when you briefly look up at him over your lashes, he was staring straight ahead; very apparently trying not to make any sudden moves.

But the millisecond the warmth of skin left yours, you wanted it back. Maybe it was the tiny kiss you shared backstage just hours ago, or the built up tension between the two of you that had started during his second campaign shoot, whatever it was, you were done dancing around the obvious. Without giving it a second thought or looking anywhere but straight ahead, you lifted your pointer finger ever so slightly. Just enough so that it gently rubbed against his. You wanted to give him the option of pursuing anything further, so just as quickly as the contact began, it ended; your fingers settling by your side yet again.

However, the breeze working it’s way between your hands didn’t last long, because almost immediately after your little move, you felt his fingers slowly creep around your hand. He didn’t move fast, almost as if he was letting the calm Italian breeze join your hands together. And slower than you would have liked, your entire hand was enclosed by his, feather touches to make sure the other was comfortable with where things had gone.

You wanted to make sure Harry knew just how okay you were with his hand keeping yours warm, so you continued talking as if nothing had happened. “‘M the only one who gets to call him that though, so don’t go parading around saying it.”

“Loud and clear. Your secret's safe with me.” he laughed, his grip on your hand tightening when a strong gust of wind blew through the small alleyway you were walking down and you shivered, “Cold?”

“No, I’m alright.” you lied, the air outside always making you significantly colder after leaving the sauna that was a fashion show back room.

Instead of letting go of the idea of you being cold, Harry lightly tugged on your joined hands, stuffing them into his jacket pocket, which then forced you to move closer to his side. Italy in May wasn’t a time you would consider cold; the sun shone nearly every day, warming your cheeks, and there was no need for anything more than a light jumper, but the warmth radiating from Harry’s side made it feel as if you were strolling around on an August day. But you welcomed it, despite the race of your heart.

“Looking forward to having some time off?”

“Absolutely. I really do need to redecorate my place. ‘M sure Lilliana hasn’t been taking care of the plants as often as I’d like so I’ll have to make a stop and pick up some new ones.”  you were mostly speaking to yourself, so you elaborated when he didn’t respond. “Lilliana is a girl who lives across the street. She’s sixteen, and has been watching my place ever since I started with Gucci. Doesn’t want to get paid or anything, only wants me to get her a meeting with Alessandro when she turns eighteen. Told her I’d see what I can do, but he’s already seen some of her designs. She’s very talented.”

“You’re really wonderful, you know.”

The compliment made the tips of your ears warm, and you were worried that the palms of your hands would start to clam up if you thought about the way you could feel him looking at you, so you quickly changed the subject, your hand clumsily sliding out of his pocket to point at the tiny restaurant in front of you.

“Here we are!”

Nestled at the very end of the alley, was your destination. Only two tables were set up outside, the tiny patio was past picturesque; it was straight out of a movie. A metal fence was surrounding the seating area on two sides - the third wall was created by the muted terracotta building and the fourth was left open for easy access. Wrapped around the very tops of the fence were some fairy lights, not enough to cover the entire thing, but enough to give a bit of lighting on the otherwise dark road, and creating a pathway to the front door, sat a nice variety of potted plants. And with the green doors to the shop left open, the smell of freshly baked bread immediately hit you and Harry in the face.

“This is amazing.” his voice was full of wonder and you appreciated the fact that even he, someone who had been around the world and back many times, never took for granted the small beauties of the world.

“Just wait until you try the food.” you smiled, bringing your hand up to your mouth in a mock chef’s kiss. “Deliziosa!”

The boisterous laugh that fell from between his lips was enough to catch the attention of whoever was working inside. It didn’t take long for them to walk down the front steps, seeing as the inside of the establishment was also small. But the second his face lit up from the wall mounted lights, you smiled.

“Lorenzo! Così bello vederti di nuovo!” Lorenzo! It’s so good to see you again!

“Mio dolce! Mi sei mancato!” My sweet! I’ve missed you! His arms opened wide as he walked down the single step, instantaneously enveloping you in a hug. He smelled of pasta sauce and pizza dough, the evidence of his hard work sprinkled across his withered cheek.

“Mi dispiace! Sai quanto può essere intenso il lavoro! Soprattutto con un capo come il mio!” I’m sorry! You know how intense work can be! Especially with a boss like mine!

You watched Lorenzo’s face light up when he pulled away from you and heard your boss’ name. The two had met ages ago and he was the one who had introduced the two of you. “Ah! Alessandro! Confido che stia bene! E chi hai portato con te questa volta, cara?” Ah! Alessandro! I trust he is doing well! And who have you brought with you this time, dear?

Feeling bad for leaving Harry out of the brief conversation, you angled your body so that you were now facing him, moving your hand between the two men in front of you. “Lorenzo, this is Harry. Harry, Lorenzo.”

True to his nature, Harry immediately stuck his hand out and offered a ‘you alright?’ to the older gentleman, but Lorenzo was having none of that. Completely ignoring the waiting hand, and having to stand a bit on his toes in order to wrap his arms around the younger man’s upper back, he pulled Harry in for a tight hug.

“Any friend of hers is a friend of mine! Benvenuto!”

“Hai un… posto bellissimo qui!” Lorenzo’s smile grew as the two separated and Harry slowly racked his mind for the right words. “Was that right?”

“It was! Thank you, we do love it here!”

“Speaking of..” you cut in, “I know it’s late but do you think we could steal a plate or two?”

“For you, mio caro, anything.” he lifted his calloused hand to gently pat your cheek. “Why don’t the two of you sit down and I will bring you a few dishes. I’ve got some fettuccine alla carbonara if you’d like. I’m sure I can find something else if-”

“That sounds wonderful, Lorenzo, thank you.”

You watched as his frail figure made its way back into the shop, taking an extra second to carefully climb the single step. It was the perfect night to sit outside and enjoy one of your favorite meals, but even more perfect to turn around and see Harry holding a chair out, waiting for you to join him at the table.

“Thank you.” you hoped the smirk you were trying to hide wasn’t visible in the dimly lit back alley and he couldn’t tell how much the small gesture made your heart race.

“So tell me,” he sighed once he finally sat down next to you, his forearms leaning against the small wooden table so that he could look directly at you. “You really like the food here or do you just keep coming back because he adores you?”

“I take offense that you think I’d use my charming personality just to get a free plate of pasta.” the stare shared between you both was one of comedy - his eyebrow raised in question and you couldn’t help but let out a small laugh, “I use it for two.”

“I knew it.”

“It really is the best, swear it! Tried to get him to teach me the recipe once but he won’t budge. Says he won’t allow it to leave the family.”

“He always here this late? Seems to be a bit… old… to be here at quarter eleven.” he never broke eye contact while speaking to you, but his fingers began to roam around, slowly inching towards your own empty hands. There was no move to do anything more than brush his fingers against yours, but you longed for him to envelop your smaller ones in his.

“For as long as I’ve known him. Always comes in to prep for the people who come in at five the next morning.”

“Good bloke.” he nodded, craning his neck a bit so he could look around him, “You know, I’ve always wanted to have my own restaurant.”

A deep belly laugh spilled from your lips upon hearing his words, your body’s finally making contact when you lifted your hand and placed it on his forearm to ground yourself.

“What’s so funny about that?” his voice held a certain aura of feigned offence, but you knew not to take it too seriously by the bright smile covering his face. It was a different kind of smile than you were used to seeing him give, but you welcomed it and never wanted to see it end. It made the corners of his eyes crinkle a tad more than normal, mouth open a bit wider, and entire body lean forward.

“Harry, I’ve known you nearly three years. Never once have I heard you mention wanting to have your own restaurant. I’ve been told a lawyer, a florist, even a physiotherapist, but a chef? Can you even cook?”

“Now I'm offended! I’ll have you know that I used to cook for the band all the time!”

“Beans on toast doesn't count as cooking, Harry.”

“Leave off.” somewhere during your mock argument and Harry laughing at you, his hand had fully found its way to yours, wrapping around it carefully as not to disturb the perfect peace the two of you had going. “You’ll just have to come over so I can prove to you just how good I am.”

Obviously he didn’t mean it in any other way than a friend inviting another friend over for a nice meal, but the way his tongue jut out before speaking, leaving his lips shining and nearly begging for attention, made the sentence mean a lot more to you than he led on.

“Well, I’ll hold you to that, mate.”

“Don’t mate me while I’m holding your hand, mate.” you swear it was like Harry was trying to push every single last button you had. Not only was he smirking while giving your hand a squeeze, but with each word, he seemed to be gradually leaning closer to you.

Almost as if he was waiting for the most perfectly inopportune moment, Lorenzo made his presence known with the clink of two wine glasses that echoed through the small alley. The sound made you and Harry separate as quickly as possible and look towards the older man.

“Two dishes of my world famous fettuccine paired with the best bottle of wine you could ask for!”

“But we didn’t ask for wine, Lorenzo.”

“It’s alright because you are new here, but when I give you a bottle of wine, you take it.”

“He says it makes for a better experience.” you shrug, taking the glasses and bottle from the tray so that he would have an easier time setting down your plates.

“Non puoi goderti i frutti del tuo lavoro senza un po ‘di divertimento!”

“Yeah yeah, as you say. Now take this before I stay here all night and give it to Mateo, because you know he’ll take it.” you tried handing him a few folded up fifties, but you weren’t surprised when he didn’t accept, but insead, backed away from your outstretched hand.

“Mio caro, no. I do not want that from you. I just enjoy seeing your beautiful face every now and again.”

“Lorenzo, you know I won’t stop. Please”

“You are too much, ragazza dolce. Please come tell me if you need anything more.”

“What did he say to you just then? I caught fruit and fun but that’s where it stops.” Harry asked as soon as the older man was out of ear shot. He was trying hard to look at you, but the steaming plate of food before you both was enough to pull anyone’s attention away, so you didn’t fault him for being mesmerized.

“Come on, hot shot, have your Italian lessons taught you nothing?”

“Wow you’re really riding me tonight, huh?” if only. “I’m busy alright. Got a lot going on up here.” he used his pointer and middle finger to tap against his temple, “Gets hard to remember things sometimes.”

“You know I’m just taking the piss.” unable to wait any longer, you began to twist your fork in the pasta while giving him an explanation. “Said you can’t enjoy the fruits of your labor without having a little fun.”

“He’s got a point you know.”

“If you try and tell me that I need to be prouder of my work, I will dump all of that food on the ground before you even have the chance to try it.”

“You wouldn’t dare. Not if it’s as good as you say it is.”

“Don’t tempt me.”

“I’m serious, love.” Harry had called you many pet names since your first meeting, but love had never been one of them. It sounded so comforting falling his lips, like it was the only word you wanted to hear for the rest of time, and it made your insides instantly warm - and it wasn’t from the wine. “You’re outrageously talented. Everyone on the planet can see it except for you.”

“I’m proud of what I do, Harry. Just don’t feel like it’s right to take any bit of credit for something I only helped put together.” sure, you helped transform the clothing from pieces of mixed matched fabrics into the collections that hit the runways, but they weren’t your ideas or designs, so you felt only fair to give credit where it was rightfully due.

“Alright. Fine then. If you won’t take credit for your work, I’ll do it for you.” he cleared his throat after finishing off his glass of wine, back straightening and his chest puffing out after filling with air. “Hello!” he shouted, followed by introducing your name, “I am the lead tailor for Gucci and I just completed my fourth Cruise Collection!”

“Shh!! Harry!” you really did try to keep it together while tugging on his arm, but you couldn’t help the giggles that escaped as he kept shouting praising about you to the empty Roman streets.

“I’m one of the best in the world and everyone is absolutely dying to work with me!”

“Harry!” you laughed again, this time, cupping your hand over his lips that he couldn’t say anymore. “I get it, my god.”

“Do you? Because I can do it again. Hello -”

“I do, thank you.” your smile was genuine, truly appreciating the fact that he always had such nice things to say about you and your work. “But please just shut up and eat, yeah?”

Finally the two of you were silent, smiling to yourselves so that you could enjoy your awaiting food. Until you weren’t.

A loud moan from next to you quickly made your head snap up in desperate need to see where it had come from. There was no one else it could have come from, but to hear the sound fall from Harry’s mouth wasn’t something you were prepared for. Nor was the sight of carbonara sauce dripping from the corner of his mouth.

“Fuck you were right.” he moaned again, this time much smaller, “This is the greatest pasta on the planet.”

“Thought you would’ve learned by now that there are very few times that’d I’m not right.”

You shouldn’t have expected anything less from the man indoors, who when you looked up over Harry’s shoulder, you saw standing in the window smiling and giving you a thumbs up. Of course he was on the same page as Alessandro and would be trying to put both you and Harry in the mood for a romantic night. But to hear the chords of ‘So This Is Love’ play through whatever speaker he had in his kitchen, really did surprise you.

“Lorenzo!” you yelled, not caring about waking whatever kind of neighbors he had

“What?”

“Really?”

“I just turned on my music, mio caro! Please enjoy your meal.”

Snickering from next to you made you roll your eyes,  “Don’t laugh at him, you’re only egging him on, Harry.”

“‘M not, I’m not!” you sent him a pointed look, taking the last gulp of wine from your glass and pouring yet another. “Alright, maybe just a little. But only because I think ya look cute when you’re flustered, is all.”

“You’re lucky you’re handsome, because you’re a right bellend.”

“Only to a select few!” the sound of his light laugh was drowned out by the creaking of his chair as he pushed it backwards. In a second, he was at his feet, ignoring your question of ‘what are you doing?’ to stand in front of you. “Signora.” his mouth may not have made any movements to smile, but you could see his eyes holding one back.

He mocked bowed, resting one arm behind his back as the other hand engulfed one of your sitting on top of the table. The pads of his fingers caressed the inside of your hand as he gently picked it up, slowly slotting your two hands together. It felt like an out of body experience, like you were watching the scene happen as an onlooker, instead of being a part of it. Because the second he picked his head up from the bow, his eyes met yours. Hundreds of unidentified thoughts raced through your mind and your breathing stopped when he picked up your hand completely, the distance between it and his lips growing short and shorter every second. With one quick, quiet, exhale falling from your lips, he placed a delicate kiss to your knuckles, keeping his eyes set on yours.

It could have been every innocent moment the two of you had spent together over the last two and a half years, or watching him perform his heart out just hours ago in garments that you literally built, or maybe even the way his eyes sparkled in the Italian moonlight, but staring at him as he stood back up straight, his hand still holding yours, you wanted nothing more than to jump his bones.

“Care to dance?”

It wasn’t the spark that radiated through your hands or the wind pulling at your blouse, but the look of endearment in Harry’s eyes that made you stand from your chair, accepting his offer. His free arm wound around your waist while yours rested on his shoulders, your body now flush against his. It wasn’t the perfect setting for be slow dancing; the twinkling lights were barely bright enough for you to see where you were stepping, the cobblestone beneath your trainers made the arches of your feet hurt, and the open space was very limited between the table and building, but the soft instrumental of ‘Bella notte’ playing from inside the shop and the wine flowing through your veins, made it something out of a dream.

The sun shone in through the window and straight into your eyes, making you blink awake with a small wrinkle between your brows. First thing you noticed was that you were sleeping in the cream blouse you had worn the night before, your trousers off and hopefully, you thought to yourself, so was most of your make-up as well. Second thing you noticed was the hand on your hip and the other under your head, the breathing against your skin and the forehead against your neck. Third… was something else entirely…

Memories from the night before came back in bits and pieces, bringing a small smile to your face. How you and Harry had both drunkenly stumbled down the hallway at like one, how you had struggled to get the key to your room in the lock, and how Harry had playfully pushed you out of the way to help you with it. How he helped you indoors, and how you’d asked him to stay. There hadn’t been a sexual intent behind the words, just an infatuated drunk speaking truthfully to another. You remember asking Harry to not look as you took your trousers off, and that you thought it’d be a good idea to take your bra off but sleep in your silk blouse. Harry on the other hand, kept all his clothes on, laying down beside you in bed and told you goodnight before you’d even managed to get yourself properly under the sheets. He must’ve been exhausted. It’d been a long day after all.

You woke up in the spooning position; his arm resting across your hip, breathing onto your skin, forehead against your neck, holding you close. Even before Harry woke up and noticed what was going on, you tried to understand why you felt like something wasn’t as it usually was. You felt Harry’s sharp intake of breath behind you and then him moving his head away from you, lifting the hand that had been placed on your hip, running it over his face. It wasn’t till you were about to turn around to face him that you both realised what was resting between you. You both stopped abruptly, silence filling the room around you.

“Bollocks.” Harry hissed between his teeth, glancing down at where his morning wood pressed against his yellow trousers and your ass and thigh. “So sorry.” He didn’t really know how to move as to not make it worse. Walking away from bed would mean you’d have to see the bulge in his trousers, but staying there would be absolute fucking torture.

You tried your hardest not to giggle, feeling a flush wave through your body.

“I-I… I don’t know what to do now. Sorry.” Harry said, feeling so embarrassed he was unsure what the next right thing to do would be.

Thinking back on everything that had happened, on everything that had transpired between the two of you, you suddenly felt a surge of dominance run through you. The countless times you’d waited for Harry to kiss you, the times he could’ve reached for your hand in the silence of the moment, the hundreds of hours you’d spent smiling at each other. The numerous missed opportunities. All the ‘what if’s. You hated them all, but they’d led you to this moment. It had all came down to this. Here, now. You two, in bed, Harry grunting in frustration into the pillow and you smiling to yourself, not at all sorry for him waking up hard against you. In fact, you didn’t mind it at all. After everything last night, this felt right. After absolutely everything you two had been through, it didn’t feel weird.

You glanced over your shoulder, seeing Harry there with his eyes shut tightly.

“What’re you doing?”

His cheeks were red, obviously incredibly embarrassed about all of this. “Willing my woodie away, what does it bloody look like?”

You couldn’t help your laughter, shaking into Harry who smiled at the sound of your exclamations of joy. Slowly, you moved your arse against him, feeling his erection between your bumcheeks. Harry stilled, watching you with wide eyes as you did it again. Reaching behind you, you took a grip of Harry’s hand that had been on your hip earlier, placing it back there so he could feel you swaying against him. You felt an inhale of breath against you, then Harry’s fingers instantly grip onto you. He watched you as you continued to roll your hips against him, loving the hot feeling it sent to the spot between your legs. You hummed, biting your lip as you glanced down at Harry’s hand on your bare skin, letting him see just how much you liked this.

Instantly, he moved closer to you, wrapping the arm he’d been resting under your neck around you, taking a grip of your shoulder. The other one he slowly slid further down, moving closer and closer to the space between your legs that ached for him. You closed your eyes as he hovered above you, laying his palm flat against your cunt, the breathy and barely audible moan that left your lips driving him insane. Laying some pressure on you, you inhaled sharply, both your hands gripping the arm wrapped around your neck. The heat that had started in the very bottom of your stomach intensified, and got even hotter when he ran his fingers seductively over you. Feather-like touches, soft kisses to your cheek and neck, absolutely nothing mattered but the fire that was being ignited in your core.

Harry pushed your knickers aside, running his ring and middle finger between your folds. While doing so, he pushed your hips to rock against him, causing a friction between the two of you unlike anything you’d ever experienced before. You gasped, opening your eyes and looking at Harry who was watching you more intently than you’d ever seen before. He looked so hot like that, demanding you to please him while he was pleasing you. Wanting to make you feel just as good as you’d made him feel.

You reached down, wiggling your hips as you dragged your knickers down your legs. You threw them somewhere far away before turning back to Harry. This time, you sat up and onto his lap, looking down on him while you rested your hands at the zipper of his yellow trousers. He let out a small breath, heart hammering against his chest as he watched you sit on him like that; look at him like that. He’d never thought he’d be lucky enough to find himself in this position, and yet, here he was. You reached for his zipper, undoing it as Harry did both the buttons. You sat up on your knees helping Harry as he tried to get out of his trousers, but it seemed harder than either of you thought.

“Just get them off.” You said, reaching behind you to push them further down.

“Not so easy when you’re on top of me like that.” Harry answered, sitting up to drag them off. Your faces were suddenly very close.

“Alright, I’ll get off-“

“-No,” he answered abruptly. “Please don’t.”

You stopped, letting Harry take his trousers off and throw them to the ground, not breaking eye contact with you once. You felt him against you, felt how hot he was for you like you were for him; how badly he wanted you. His eyes flickered to your mouth before he glanced back up into your eyes again, lips parting as if he wanted to say something but didn’t know the right words for it. You had taken control so far, so you watched him expectantly, waiting for him to say or do something. And it was as if he knew your thoughts exactly. He took a grip of the back of your neck, bringing you to him.

The second your lips met, you closed your eyes, melting into the kiss and melting into Harry. You hadn’t really shared a proper kiss till now, only having had that small peck and him kissing your hand. But this was a real kiss. You tasted him, felt him. Surrounding you and everything you knew in those sublime seconds your lips were pressed against one another. Heavenly, carefully, gingerly, Harry slipped his tongue into your mouth, and you welcomed him completely. You wrapped your arms around his neck, pressing your body against his. He pulled you to him, devouring one another unapologetically. Now that you were kissing, dragging out the delicious moment, you weren’t holding back anymore. The kisses were hungry, desperate, wet. Nothing had ever tasted better than Harry, nothing had ever felt better than him either. You wondered why you’d waited so long to kiss one another, what had taken so long. Because now you couldn’t think of not doing just that.

You wanted to kiss him till the end of time. Wanted to feel as his hands roamed your body, how his tongue swirled around yours, how his lips got more and more swollen as you continued on making out. Forever, and maybe even longer than that if you were allowed; you wanted to kiss Harry forever. It felt so good, so right. Like tasting every good thing that had ever happened to you all at once, combined into one thing. Harry.

Moaning your name, you felt him grip your bum, squeezing it hard as he dragged you over him. He wanted some friction as bad as you; wanted you. It felt so good knowing Harry was as desperate as you, that he felt the same way and wasn’t ashamed of admitting that he did. You had no idea where your infatuation had begun, had no idea how you had fallen in love with Harry. You just were and that was how it was supposed to be. It had always supposed to be the two of you. Whenever something feels right, you get a warm feeling in the pit of your stomach, like it’s your soul telling you that you’ve reached your final destination; you’ve gotten where you’re supposed to be. And you felt that very feeling right now, in Harry’s arms, kissing him, feeling him hard against you.

You pushed him back down on the bed, bending over him to continue kissing. He instantly gripped your arse again, begging you to rock against him so he could get some small friction. You refused however, and instead buried your hands in his hair, dragging out the tongue filled, wet, lustful kisses. It was excruciating, Harry thought to himself, but he couldn’t bring himself to force you to do anything as he didn’t want this moment to be over. If you wanted to drag this out, then he would not stop you. He was making out with you, you were almost naked on top of him, he got to touch you all over. He wasn’t going to take this for granted.

There didn’t seem to be an end to your kisses, they seemed to be going on and on and on. Not that either of you were complaining, but at one point it was hard to remember how the rest of the morning had gone before you’d started snogging. You suddenly realised just how naked you were, that only your cream blouse was covering your torso, that the rest of you were on display for Harry. But he was way too busy kissing you to pay notice to anything else.

You tugged at the end of his tee shirt and he quickly took it off, letting it fall off the side of the bed before turning his attention back on you again. You ran your hand down his front, wanting to feel his skin under yours unashamedly. Every time you’d touched him before had been under a work setting, but this one was quite different. The hands touching him now were those of a lover, not his tailor. They were the hands of a desperate woman who wanted nothing more than to be with Harry in any way one human could be with another.

Resting your hands at the top of Harry’s boxers, Harry frantically followed your lead, being there to help you get them off. He was ready to do exactly as you told him to, knowing that he was and always would be at your complete and total disposal. As his boxers came off, his cock sprang loose, and you couldn’t help but look down at it. Harry watched you as you took him in, finding you checking him out like this incredibly hot. A wave of excitement and adoration ran through him, so captivated and altogether in love with you that he was sure in that moment and every moment that followed, he would lay down the rest of his life and himself to you wholly.

You took a grip of his cock, looking into his eyes after positioning him right at your hole. He didn’t take his eyes off you, knowing that what was just about to happen would change everything for you and your friendship. Not that all of last night and the rest of this morning hadn’t done that already, but sex complicates things. It’s hard not to form an emotional attachment to those you choose to have sex with, and it’s even harder to forget said person you have sex with if you’re in love with them. But regardless of that, both of you wanted to do this. You wanted to shag; wanted one another.

You guided him into you, holding onto him till he was all the way in. Your lips parted and Harry let out a low moan, your warm walls around him almost being too much to take. Positioning your knees well on either side of his waist, you sat up on his lap again, and started moving your hips over him. Harry gripped your thighs, squeezing them tight and looking up at you with his mouth agape. Your blouse hung loosely off you, unbuttoned to the point of one of your tits showing. It fell off one of your shoulders as you rocked over Harry, revealing even more of you to Harry in the bright morning light.

He moved one of his hands upward, running it up your arm, over your collarbone, to your neck. His thumb ran over your jawline, wanting to feel all of your soft skin under his fingertips. You looked down at him, a moan leaving your lips as your eyes met his. Already the familiar burn of a climax started building up in your core, reminding you of how long it had truly been since you’d found yourself in this position prior to this. Not that it even mattered, because right now you were having sex with Harry and he felt so fucking good inside you and underneath you, you would never get tired of this feeling.

You slid your hands down his front, dragging your nails along this skin till you reached his abdomen, where you let them rest. Harry’s eyes fell to your hands, relishing in the feeling of you touching him everywhere, of you being everywhere. Nothing mattered but you and the magic you were creating between the two of you. The soft skin of the inside of your thighs resting against his hips and ribs, his tattooed arms caressing your entire body. Heavy breathing, the occasional moan.

He moaned your name, hand sliding down your chest, rubbing his thumb over your exposed nipple. The burn in your core was really starting to build up now, and you knew it would burst any second. Harry sat up, wrapping an arm around your middle. You gasped a little in surprise, but your heart instantly started beating faster at him being so close to you. His grip was tight, as if he still couldn’t believe this was happening, it sent a wave of butterflies straight to your tummy. All of them flew directly to your core as Harry started moving his hips more with yours.

“Look so good on me like that, you do.” He whispered against your lips, his voice still having that morning rasp to it that sent a shiver up your spine.

You wrapped an arm around his neck, resting the other one on his shoulder as you continued to rock your hips against him. His eyes were hooded, but there was something in them that was so soft it took your breath away. When you know someone inside and out, you notice every single little change in their behaviour. This wasn’t tiny, though, because there was a type of vulnerability in Harry’s eyes that you hadn’t seen there before. He was laying himself completely bare, both physically and emotionally, wanting to connect and attach himself to you on every level a human possibly could.

Being this close, your movements got shorter and quicker. Bending his knees, Harry brought you flush to his torso, your hips and his moving rhythmically, hard against one another. Everything felt electric, everything felt hot. You wanted to melt into him and have you two sitting like this for eternity. Wanted to stare into his eyes, feel his warm breath on your skin, have his arm around your waist and the other hand on her cheek. Having him inside you like this, feeling him grip you hard, whimper against your lips, moan your name, you felt incredibly powerful and so, so good. There was something so magical about this moment, about you two joined like this. Something words lacked the ability to articulate and something your hearts didn’t quite understand yet but wanted to. He reached his hand down to your bum, squeezing you hard.

“Harry.” You moaned, feeling your hips and knees begin to ache from sitting like this. Not that you cared much, because the wild look in Harry’s eyes was enough of a reason for her to endure it a hundred times more.

“Yeah?” he mumbled against you. “You like that?”

Biting your lip, you glanced into his eyes, letting your look speak for itself. Harry moaned, letting his hand fall to the bed and the other to your thigh, pressing you harder around him. You were both close, clinging harder onto one another. The heat in the pit of your stomach grew bigger and bigger, threatening to burst with every grind, every moan, every touch. He thrusts harder into you, entranced as he watched you gasp and moan loudly.

“Fuck me.” You said, gripping the hair at the nape of his neck.

“As much as you want me to, baby.” He kissed your jawline, nails digging into your thigh. “I’ll make you feel so good.”

You gasped, feeling the heat get more intense. Harry felt your movements get more frantic and he moved his hips quicker, meeting yours and creating a friction so heavenly it caused you to lose all control.

“Don’t stop.” You gasped, looking into Harry’s eyes as everything started to blur.

“Fuck.” He hissed, feeling your legs start to shake around him. You came hard. Harry watching you intently, holding back his own release to watch every last second of yours; to make sure you were done before he allowed his own climax. You gasped for breath and moaned ad repeated Harry’s name over and over and over again until it felt like it was the only word you were able to pronounce.

Harry came right after her, a furrow appearing between his brows and lips parted. His hands tightened around her, holding onto her for dear life as he came in her. He stilled, neck vein showing, and he moaned and moaned and moaned. It was so hot, he sounded so sexy. You watched him till he came down, feeling his cum sliding down the inside of your thigh as he slipped out of you. You breathed together for a few moments before looking at one another, suddenly laughing a little at what you’d just done. He rested his forehead against your chest, feeling you breathe with him.

“That was a thing that just happened.” You said, making Harry laugh.

“That just happened.”

“We just did that.”

You both laughed, holding onto one another still, not willing to let go. For the time being, you two were the only thing that mattered, nothing outside your room existed. But then you laid your eyes on the clock by the nightstand and jumped off Harry. He watched you, wide eyed and confused.

“What?” he asked.

“I’m supposed to be at Alessandro’s hotel room in five minutes to go over yesterday, and some other stuff.” You said while you ran to the bathroom, needing to get washed up and dressed as quickly as possible.

Harry got out of bed, quickly putting his boxers and tee shirt on. “When’re you done?”

“Dunno.”

“Meet me for breakfast.” Harry said as you ran back out, new pair of knickers on and rummaging through your wardrobe. “I’ll text you the location.”

“Harry, I-“

“-Please.”

You looked over at him as you put your trousers on, smiling at his pleading words. “Text me.”

He smiled back before looking around the room. “Where are my trousers?”

“I’ll find them later, just piss off because I need to leave.” You ran towards the door with your laptop in hand and Harry – looking quite mortified – followed. He pulled his room key out as you were closing the door, about to run down the corridor for Alessandro’s room when you felt a hand around your wrist. Harry pulled you back toward him, pressing his lips against yours. You both smiled into the kiss, feeling absolutely elated and still not sure how to process what had just happened.

“Hurry.” Harry mumbled against your lips before kissing you again. “I’ll be waiting with that morning after pill.”

“Good.”

Harry smiled. “Now, be off.”

You giggled, giving him one last peck before running down towards Alessandro.

Everything that happened between you and Harry over the last 30 months had culminated to this point; you rushing out of the room after sharing an unexpected, intimate morning together. Looking back on it, you knew that each longing look you gave him had a hidden meaning behind it. You wanted this. Maybe not right away, but the more you got to know Harry, the more you wanted to be more than just his tailor. There had always been more between the two fo you, you just had not figured it out till now.

The way he watched you with admiration while you worked, gave you praises when you were feeling down - quite literally shouting them from the streets - and spoke to you in a way that had your mind in the clouds, it all slowly built over time.

It built until you couldn’t handle it any longer and needed to show Harry just how deeply you were falling for him.

Knocking on Alessandro’s door you quickly tired to fix your hair, aware that you looked like a right mess. Because of your morning antics and inability to keep track of time, you hadn’t given your appearance a single thought. Once Alessandro opened the door, his eyes widened as he saw you standing there panting and looking distressed, instant regret hit you for not at least brushing through your hair. Alessandro would know something had happened, having known you for so long, he’d see right through you.

“Are you okay?” he asked.

“Yes, of course.”

Alessandro smiled knowingly, nodding his head as he let you in. You just raised your eyebrows, but Alessandro didn’t make another comment. You’d told him enough.

“I stopped by Harry’s room last night, wanted to congratulate him on the show and how well he did, but he wasn’t in. Any idea where he was?”

“Nope. None. Maybe he was having a wee.”

Alessandro nodded again, walking over to sit down by the table in his suite along with his event manager, head stylist, and fabric coordinator. Tons of sketches of new outfits and plans for upcoming events laid out on the table, ready to be discussed. You sat down with them, ready to take notes. You had already been a little late, so you didn’t want to do anything else wrong today. Full on concentrating, you didn’t take your eyes off the laptop for almost 30 minutes, and when you did, it was to check your phone. You’d gotten two text messages, both from Harry.

Harry Don’t forget my yellow trousers. They’re my favourite pair. x

Harry Had an amazing time this morning, by the way. Can’t wait to see you later. x

You couldn’t help the smile that spread out over your face at the messages, and you didn’t realise just how wide your smile was till Alessandro cleared his throat beside you. You looked up, turning your phone around and looking right back at your laptop as if nothing had happened.

“What’s got you smiling?” Alessandro questioned, raising his eyebrows.

“Hmm? Nothing.” You answered, trying to refocus on the document before you.

Alessandro looked down at your phone, smiled, and went on with the meeting. There would be no hiding what happened between you and Harry. Somehow, someway, the man sitting before you would hear how his ‘two prodigies’ had finally gotten together, and when that day happened, you’d never hear the end of it. Hell, he constantly reminded you that without him, the two of you would have likely never met so it was his doing that you had a best friend in Harry.

So what was he to say when he found out you and Harry were now more than friends?

[eloquent-vowel]

Part 2 "I am" Bucky x OFC (#043)

Description: #043 is Dr. Leeb's greatest success. He took immense pride in raising her to be the perfect combatent and it was finally time for her skills to be put to use. His only worry is bringing outside variables into his perfect equation but when the heads of Hydra give you orders, you follow them. #043 is sent on her first mission and things do not go as planned.

Tags: Angst, Fluff, Slow burn, very much a slow burn. Bucky Barnes x OFC, Winter Soldier X OFC.

Warnings: Canon typical violence

Here is the second part of #043's story! I'm sorry there is no Bucky yet but I can promise that he will be coming in soon! (I did say that this would be a slow burn). Enjoy! <3

Part 1

Dr. Leeb sniffed again, those damn cleaning products always set him off, he had tried his damn hardest to get used to the smell of the sterile facilities but even after thirteen years his nose would not stop running, it was so embarrassing. Especially at a time like this, when he was in conference with the very head of Hydra. They had contacted his lab about using #043 in the field, he had agreed without hesitation- he knew his project was ready and he could hardly contain his excitement as the General laid out the mission briefing. It was finally time to show the whole of Hydra just what he could achieve, they would finally respect his mind.

"Dr. Leeb we have read your reports, #043, code name Eris, sounds very promising. Can you back up your claims?" The man known as The General spoke, his voice although tinny through the speakers of his office carried a deep undertone of threat. If Dr. Leeb was not sweating before he was now, he had rehearsed for this moment all he had to do was speak. He cleared his throat, sniffed and dapped at his forehead with his handkerchief.

"Well, General." He cursed his voice for coming out higher than normal. "As you know former experiments for the Eris project came up negative but #043 is different, whether this is due to her age or her biology I do not know, there is a possibilty-"

"Dr. Leeb, cut to the chase, what can she do?"

"Ah, right" He loosened his tie a bit, were the fans even working in here? "Yes, #043 is the perfect blend between technology and humanity. She arrived to us in a... less than ideal state this has meant that her left leg had to be amputated above the knee and her right leg was amputated below the knee, her legs were replaced with advanced prosthetics, based upon the Winter Soldier project. These were replaced to grow with her, it was a marvel really how we managed to make them grow perfectly wi-"

"Doctor!"

"Ah, sorry, yes, well. These legs allow her to run faster than the average human being, she has reached over speeds of 60mph - this of course is helped with the super soldier serum that she has adapted to perfectly. The serum, of course, has made her taller, stronger and altogether better. She is only 16 and has already grown to be 6 feet tall, it is likely that she can grow more, she can lift her body weight easily. She has also received the benefits of advanced healing, there has yet to be an injury that has not healed within the day. #043 is trained in Muay Thai, Judo, Comat Sambo to name a few, she has mastered firearms and the use of close combat weaponry- being most proficient in the use of brass knuckles. Her senses are enhanced by the serum have given her a great skill in prediction. She is brutal, cold and most importantly, loyal to Hydra."

Dr. Leeb nervously pushed up his glasses, it was impossible to read what The General was feeling. The man's face was eternally stuck in a position of serious anger- it was rather intimidating.

"This sounds promising Dr. Leeb. I read that she was trained intellectually as well?"

"Yes, yes #043 can speak Russian, English, German, Chinese, Japanese, French, Romanian and Spanish fluently and has been taught how to use the most advanced technologies. Her physical training has always taken priority, however, but I can assure you General that if you have a wall to break through she can do it."

There was a beat of silence as the General seemed to mull something over, there was a rustle of paper on the other side of the monitor. Dr. Leeb took in some deep breaths as he waited for the General to say something, dabbing at his forehead once more to try and get rid of the sweat dripping down his brow.

"Is it true, Dr. Leeb, that you believe she could take out the Winter Soldier?"

"Yes." Dr. Leeb answered without hesitation. "We are waiting for confirmation from the scientist on the Winter Soldier project but we are scheduling for them to meet. Remember she is has yet to reach full maturation, there is no doubt that she could best the Soldier when she is fully formed, we just wish to... encourage her to see him as a threat and enemy."

"Your faith is evident, Leeb, very well, here is the details of the mission- if she fails it will be on your head Doctor."

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

#043 was training, as usual, she was in the middle of combat training facing of against a large group of hydra soldiers. While she knew she could defeat them one on one, having six of them attack at the same time was proving much more difficult. It was practically impossible to dodge and block every hit coming her way, much less think about landing a punch. She currently unarmed so at least two hits on vital areas would be necessary to knock one soldier unconscious. As she was dodging she began to form a plan, she would have to spread the soldiers out, she could tackle one down and run through them but they would see that coming a mile away, she could try throwing one away but that would take far too much time. There was only one option left, to jump.

#043 stopped dodging and planted her feet, she doubled her efforts to block incoming blows and began to tense her knees. The mechanical legs clanked and whirred as the cogs inside them tightened- the only warning any of the soldiers got was the hissing of hydraulics as #043 released the tension within her legs and shot straight over the heads of the group of soldiers. She twisted in the air and landed heavily in the ground with a loud cracking sound as the concrete broke below her. She was now facing the bewildered looking group of soldiers, she smirked, as they began to run to her. Just as they reached her she jumped once more, landing right at the back by the slowest member. They were down in two swift blows to their kidney's and temple. This unfair game of cat and mouse continued until it was only two soldiers remaining.

The following fight was easy to her. One of the soldiers was taken out by a high kick to the head from her left leg and a solid stomp to the sternum cracking numerous ribs and collapsing his chest. The other was simply ended by a push kick to the chest to put them off balance and #043 swiftly grabbed one of their legs and threw them into the far wall where they impacted with a harsh thud, leaving a rather large dent in the plaster. #043 drew in a deep breath and relaxed, letting her hands fall to her sides just as the voice of Dr. Leeb entered the sandpit.

"Well done, #043! You continue to improve day by day." She felt her eye twitch as he sniffed once more. "I have some good news for you, you are to go outside."

"Outside?" Her voice was gravelly from lack of use.

"Yes, you are about to go on your first mission, it is a rather simple one mind you- I think the General is just trying to test me with this- I have no doubt that you will succeed with flying colours, you are my perfect equation."

"What will I have to do?"

"You are to infiltrate the home of a Mr. Hugo Malet, a prominent figure in the arms trade. Hydra has a target on his head and you, my dear, have the honour of being the gun who aims for it." Dr. Leeb began walking away, gesturing for #043 to follow. She eyed her trainer waiting for permission. The stern woman just gave a nod and #043 was off walking just behind Dr. Leeb, peering over his shoulder to the files he held in his hand. He continued to brief her all the way to his office.

"Mr. Malet here has a holiday chalet in the French Alps, a rather modest six bedroom, five bathroom ordeal, wholly unnecessary for his family of four but if you have the money. Such a shame he got that money by selling weapons to the wrong people. Here." Dr. Leeb sat in his desk chair before sliding the file over to #043. "Look at him, memorise his face, his family is meant to join him in the chalet in a week but if there are any others witness you must eliminate them as well- do you understand?"

"Yes sir."

"Good. Repeat it to me."

"Hugo Malet, Chalet, French alps, no witnesses, no traces left behind."

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

In the helicopter over to the Alps #043 did not know who was more nervous, her or Dr. Leeb who had insisted on monitoring the mission in person. The plan was simple, she would parachute down to the drop zone two miles away from the chalet and run to the chalet where, under the cover of night, #043 would erase the traitors.

"T-10 mins until deployment."

The announcement over the intercom spurred her into action, she began triple checking her harness and parachute, placed the night vision goggles over her eyes and ensured that the mask covering the lower half of her face was secure. Once she was sure she was ready she took her position. The side door opened to reveal the pitch black, snowy exterior of the alps, the temperature was immediately freezing . Dr. Leeb piped up behind her.

"Do not disappoint me #043, once this goes successfully the Eris project will be a reality. You know what will happen if you fail."

#043 shivered at the threat, memories enclosed walls, electric chairs and sore flesh flickering in her mind and with a single nod she jumped.

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

The run to the chalet had been uneventful and soon the chalet was in view. There was a warm glow coming from within and through the window #043 could see the figure of her target walking around the lower floors.

"Status report" The voice of Dr. Leeb crackled through her earpiece.

"Target sighted, moving to engage."

Armed only with a silenced pistol and her brass knuckles she moved stealthily through the pine trees until she found the backdoor. Much to her joy it was unlocked and she entered silently. There was the faint sound of some sort of soft music playing in the front room, following the noise she crept towards the slightly ajar door down the corridor.

She entered the room, pistol first, to see Hugo Malet sipping wine on the couch, sitting in front of the fireplace a woman - presumably his wife- under his arm. Without hesitation #043 shot both figures through the back of the head, killing them instantly. She approached the bodies, turning them both over to confirm their identities.

"Target is dead, his wife also."

"Great job, #043, no witnesses. Return to Location Alpha"

#043 stared at the two bodies for too long. They were slumped, still cuddled against one another, their eyes dull and lifeless. If it wasn't for the bullet hole through their foreheads'. Their lives had so easily been ended, they had not even seen it coming. She had taken lives before, but they had always been fighting her- it was her or them. This was new, the easy kills. The easy killing felt wrong, she felt wrong, her hands began to shake. Her mask began to feel too tight, the air in the room was too dense for her to breathe- desperately she made her way to the window- opening it to let the fresh air hit her face.

"Mummy? Daddy? Can I have some hot chocolate?"

#043 froze, the voice was high pitched, a child's voice, her head turned in horror to watch the door to the front room open and the Malet's youngest son enter the room. His face immediately creased into confusion, too young to understand why his parents were slumped, motionless on the couch. He was so small. #043 knew about the concept of children, she was certain she herself must have been one at some point, but she had never realised how small they are. This one must have only reached her knees, his small arms were reaching for his parent's until he caught #043 in his sight. She slowly raised her pistol.

"Who are you?" The small child asked

"I am..." she stuttered, who was she? A number? How old was she? Was she once this child, this small, this helpless, this clueless, this... innocent? The boy's eyes shone with tears and fear.

"Are you a friend of Daddy's?"

Such innocence, so small, every fibre of #043's being was screaming at her- no witnesses- but her hand was shaking, her hands never shook, there was some p[art of her that refused to harm this child. The longer she looked into his eyes the farther down she pointed her pistol.

"I am..."

But if she left this child alive she would be put in that chair again, she would be hit and placed in that tiny room, she would be a failure and Dr. Leeb would be disappointed in her. She slowly began to walk towards the small child who simply looked up at her, wide eyed and teary.

"Who..." The child's voice faded away as #043 was looked directly down at him.

"I am... Eris."

With that Eris hit the child over the head with the butt of her pistol , enough to knock him unconscious but not enough to kill him, then fired a shot into the ground by his head, she hoped that an ambulance would arrive soon. She took a deep breath before climbing out the window, leaving the crime scene behind.

"Returning to Location Alpha, No witnesses remain."

Part 3

[nomimits7]

The Egyptian god’s prey | Chapter 3

Title: The Egyptian god’s prey

Parings: Jimin x OT6BTS  

Warnings: Swearing. Mention of death. Mention of Nazi’s. Inaccurate Egyptian’s history… I improvised. Mention of kidnap, kind of (he ends up stranded). Severe sunburn. Kind of incest ( The Egyptians gods sometimes married their siblings) More to be added!

Summary: Hoseok arrives with his precious cargo and starts his descent into old patterns. Namjoon goes on a hunt for the truth behind the very human boy they managed to both almost kill and save. A few past memories are hinted at as Hoseoks godly counterpart makes a slight appearance 

Just a note... I have contacted the artist of all these amazing illustration and I have asked permission, I am currently still waiting for a response. If they want me to remove the art I will! Let’s hope for a good response. 

Chapter 2

“They should have been back by now. Hoseok always knows the fastest way through the desert. Something must have happened to them” Jungkook said as he paced back and forth, nervously chewing his fingernails. Call him attached, but he always hated it when one of his own was away from him. The rest of them all knew about this little trait. Most of the time it was annoying, but at the same time, it was endearing. They all understood where he was coming from. It was far more difficult for an ancient’s deity to survive in this modern world than most people think.

“Relax Jungkook. He’ll be back soon. Hoseok knows the sands the best out of all of us.” Namjoon said as he placed his hand on Jungkooks shoulder. He had faith in his brother. Despite what the historical texts say, he knew Hoseok won’t get lost again. He always returns to them, even if they had to drag him home.

“Besides, Hoseok is the sun in disguise. He has seen the sands from East to West. Sometimes it amazes me how well he knows our ancient lands” Yoongi piped up proudly from his spot in the sun. Just as Jungkook opened his mouth to respond the galloping of two horses was heard entering the temple. The sound almost comforting to their ears. Almost.

“Tae! Taehyung! I need you! NOW!” Hoseok’s voice echoes through the halls. Almost immediately everyone was on high alert. Never, in all their existence has any one of them needed assistance, which is not entirely true but that’s not the point. Gosh, it was a miracle they were all ‘friends’ after their history. So, the fact that Hoseok is calling for Taehyung can only mean one thing. It’s human-related. Taehyung always had a knack for anything sickly or human-related. He especially had a soft spot for children. This trait never went unheard of by the humans, which was why he was seen as a soft-hearted deity. It always made them sad to see him being portrayed as a female deity by these humans. Gods, anything to do with mortals always leaves a bad taste in their mouths.

“Holy mother of Ra! What happened to him?” Seokjin shrieked as he laid eyes on Jimin, ever the dramatic one. The boy’s skin was red as blood and covered in blisters. He also had a very high fever and a very bad case of bloody, burned feet. It was clear as day that this boy has never set foot in a desert. Gods, if they hadn’t known better, one would say this boy has never set foot anywhere outside of his apartment. But they knew, they all knew what life Jimin led. They knew of his achievements, how smart he really is, how good he is at his dancing, how soft and shy he really is under all that arrogance he has. They knew, but as he was lying in Hoseoks arms right before their eyes. Red skin filled with blisters, blood dripping from his feet with a fever they would feel even if they weren’t touching him. They knew that they were wrong about one thing.

Jimin doesn’t know.

Jimin doesn’t know about the pain they went through due to his father. Gods, they would not be surprised if Jimin doesn’t even know who his parent even was. The real them, not the act they put up for how many decades. As far as they could tell he had no clue that his beloved mother was lying to him about who she was. His dear old mother made sure he had no idea who his father was before he so tragically died. What type of mother lies to her own son about who they are? What good did it do?

How did keeping Jimin from the truth help him in any way? Somewhere along the line, he would have noticed that he doesn’t get older. Somewhere he would have made a connection to a past life he somehow had forgotten. They followed him since the great fall. They knew of every persona he had. They saw him dance his way through history. Somehow his mother made him forget.

Somehow, she had managed to lock up the god in him. If Jimin had his god on his side he would not look like a bad version of tomato soup. He would never have been harmed by the sun or the sand. He would not even have gone thirsty in his homelands. Yet, here he lies with bandages around every part of his skin and an IV in his arm.

What are they missing? Could it be that Jimin is just an immortal human and not a god like they were? Is that even possible?

“I have a feeling that the only way we are going to get to the bottom of- whatever this is, we need to reflect back on who his parents were. I don’t think his father had anything to do with his lost memories. He died way too early in his life” Namjoon said as he made his way out of the room.

“Where are you going?” Yoongi asked, eyes big as he watched the man retreat. Being one of the older gods responsible for some of his lovers, Yoongi always felt a rush of anxiety when one of them would leave.

“To Nun’s room of records. He would have noted down all of our families’ abilities and roles or he would have something in place to keep the records up to date” Namjoon replied as he finally left the room. Nun was the deity of deities. He was the literal beginning of all the Egyptian gods. The father of fathers. The one that linked them all together. If one deity knew about anything it would be him. He was the primal god that lived in the waters that surrounded the earth. No one knows what happened to Nun after the great fall. Some speculate he returned to the waters of chaos, but no one knows for certain.

The rest of them all stayed behind with Seokjin and Jimin. Some wear a grim look just by the thought of opening up old wounds. Going to that room was somewhat of a sore spot for all of them. Maybe the records kept updating even though Ra was gone? That could speed this process up quite a bit, I mean, that’s how they were able to locate Jimin so quickly after the great fall. All they all can remember from the ancient times was how Ra disproved of their relationship even if his own close relationship with his own siblings resulted in Shu and Tefnut. They never blamed their own actions for the rise of Jungkook and Yoongi… Geb and Nut respectively. But that too is a bitter-sweet story.

“We’re probably going to have to go back to that time in history. I mean, in historical terms Jimin’s god is above ours, isn’t he?” Hoseok said as he looked down at the sleeping boy with a slightly pained expression.

“Unfortunately, yes. If we want to save the boy, we need to know what Mut did to him. I will say this, her efforts to hide were really ridiculous. Choosing a name that is your god’s name spelled backward is really stupid. It took us, like 6 months to find her? Some gods were really stupid” Seokjin said, shaking his head. He always had a grudge against the older generation. They never took the newer generation seriously and that caused their destruction. How does a nation as godly powerful as Egypt go from having around 1500 known gods to only 6? Well, 7 if they managed to keep Jimin alive. Mortal lives really took a toll on all those who were forced to go into hiding. Through the years they had witnessed just how great deities perished while hiding in mortal form. Becoming a mortal also meant living without your respective gifts. A god can survive a car crash or even a fall from a tall building, most humans couldn’t.

The room soon fell into silence. The sun slowly dips into the horizon. A cool breeze made its way through the pillars. Hoseok soon got up and made his way to Anubis, his most trusted companion for his nightly adventures. Tonight would be the most difficult of all. He was tired from the lack of sleep, but he would gladly give up his sleep if he had to fetch Jimin again. Bringing that boy to their temple felt like a very important mission. Something felt complete within him now that he knew they were no longer just six Egyptian gods living in isolation to survive.

“Hoseok, do you really have to go? You are tired, my love. Rest for tonight. He is gone and I know all you do up there is watch the world sleep” Seokjin said as he slowly hugged him from the back. He hated seeing his lover go. They barely see him during the day as it is and he knew this look. This was the look he had way back then after his nightly duties that changed Egyptian history forever. Hoseok looked pained just like he did when he discovered the night vessel void of the other deity.

“I know, but you also know that this is the only way I can atone for my past mistakes. Besides, this gives me one godly purpose in life. Make sure to explain everything to Jimin when he wakes” Hoseok said with a dry laugh as he kissed Seokjin’s forehead and promptly left for his nightly duties in the sky.

Hoseok was a proud man. Being an Egyptian god was surely an honor, even if you were one of the gods that were seen as evil. Seth was one of the sky gods, a trickster, and a desert lord. Hoseok loved his title and everything that came with it. He was a master of storms and disorder. He was a beast on the battlefields but he was also a loving brother and lover. Every night he would rise to the skies and help the sun god Ra fight the chaos serpent Apophis as the sun traveled through the underworld. He felt important. When Amun absorbed Ra, Hoseok felt crushed and abandoned. He fell into the chaos and destruction he was known for. He did a lot of bad things to his own family. Even if they had forgiven him long ago, he failed to see the good he once knew he had in him. Doing his godly chores, even if they weren’t necessary due to the strange disappearance of Apophis, made him feel a little less guilty. It made him feel a little more in control.

Hoseok was a very fragile being. Even if his godly counterpart was anything but fragile. This fact alone broke the others. Even if Namjoon had long forgiven him, Hoseok hasn’t forgiven himself. Even in modern times, the Egyptologists see Hoseoks' god as a problem. They have no idea how to depict him. Either he has some or other animal head or he is a dog-like creature with abnormal features. It’s a wonder that he was such a delight to be around. He knew just how to hide his hatred for humans.

As Seokjin watched Hoseok disappear into the night sky, he felt a pair of arms around his waist. He could tell just by the tuff of hair against his neck that it was Taehyung. Of all of them, Tae has been the very first to forgive Hoseok for what he did. What the history books fail to explain is that Tae wasn’t the only one that searched for all of Namjoon. Hoseok helped look for every piece.

“Jin? Is everything okay?” Taehyung asked as he felt Seokjin start to shake as sobs took over his frame.

“Hobi is heading for that dark place again Tae. What if we can’t bring him back again like last time? What if he just can’t forgive himself?” Seokjin said through his tears. Taehyung knew exactly what Seokjin meant. They had gone to hell and back to keep Hoseok with them. Just as he was about to answer they heard a groan. A very HUMAN groan.

Jimin was awake. Awake and clearly in pain.

Chapter 4

[p-artsypants]

Five Minutes

Gabriel has had enough of all these girls fighting over Adrien. He decides it’s high time Adrien picks one, and arranges the perfect opportunity for him to do so. Each candidate has five minutes to present why they’d be a good girlfriend.

Marinette decides to take this opportunity to shoot her shot.

Ao3 | FF.net

Adrien came into school that morning with the weight of an entire future on his shoulders. His face pale, his lips tight in a line, and everything tense.

He bypassed everyone that wanted to talk to him, including his friends. Chloe and Lila seemed in a chipper mood, as they took turns hanging on his arms and blowing kisses at him.

It bugged Marinette more than she wanted to admit. Did no one else notice he was suffering?

At lunch, she dug down deep inside herself and asked him, before he could leave the classroom. “Hey Adrien?”

He cringed at her voice, but relaxed a moment later, sending her an easy smile. “Hi Marinette. What’s up?”

The smile reeked of stress and despair. Given their lose, almost-friendship, she didn’t know if she had the right to ask him, but plowed ahead anyways. “You seem…stressed. Are you okay? Anything I can help with?”

The question gained the attention of Nino and Alya, who were also packing up to head home for lunch.

“Yeah dude, you’ve been kinda tense all day…I just didn’t know how to ask.”

Adrien’s eyes flicked around the room. Chloe had already left, but it seemed like Lila had hooked an end of the conversation and walked down to them, placing a hand on Adrien’s shoulder.

“He’s just a little nervous, that’s all. Mr. Agreste has decided that he can finally have a girlfriend, and invited some worthy candidates to the mansion this afternoon!”

Marinette’s heart squeezed painfully. She hadn’t heard anything about this, so she obviously wasn’t invited. But if Lila knew, then…

“Are you a candidate?!” Alya nearly shouted, excited.

That only heightened the pain in her chest.

“Naturally! Adrien and I have a great working relationship, and we’re great friends! Mr. Agreste really respects me as an artist too! Of course he invited me!” She pet Adrien, like he was an animal, and not a person. “Adrien and I both know it’s already a done deal. But the…contest, it’s more of a formality.”

“It’s not official yet,” Adrien said, scooting away from Lila. “You still have to go through the interview.”

“Of course, but I’m a sure win.”

The quiver of his lip and tense eyebrows told Marinette otherwise.

Adrien took a deep breath and looked at his friends. “My father said I could invite a few friends, for morale support. Would you guys be willing to come?”

“Of course dude!”

“You’ll come to support me too, right Alya?” Asked Lila.

“Of course girl!”

Adrien’s beautiful eyes met Marinette’s, pleading with her. “Marinette? Are you in?”

“I’m sure she’s busy in the bakery, Adrien,” Said Lila, “don’t make her feel guilty.”

“I’m free.” Marinette blurted out. “I’d love to be there.” She really didn’t want to, actually, but felt it better to go and plunge the knife in and rip her heart out. With Adrien officially taken, she could finally move on, right?

At least, that was her hope.

Adrien smiled at her genuinely, looking relieved slightly.

He and Nino went to eat lunch together, while Alya followed her back to the bakery, quiet on the way.

“Hey…um, I’m sorry you didn’t get invited to participate.”

“I suppose that’s what I get for sitting with a thumb up my butt.” Marinette answered with a sigh.

“And, I know you don’t like Lila, but she’s just as deserving of Adrien’s affection as you are, okay? Please please please don’t be embarrassing and try to ruin this in a fit of jealous rage.”

Marinette wanted to say, ‘No promises’ but instead, she stated, “I won’t.”

“Kay, cause like…that wouldn’t be fair to Adrien, you know? This is his future girlfriend. He deserves a fair chance to look at his options and choose who he wants.”

Marinette glared at Alya, a million red flags popping up in her mind.

The sudden anger took Alya aback. “What?”

“You think this is fair?”

Alya just blinked.

“Mr. Agreste has decided that Adrien can have a girlfriend and selects a handful of candidates for him to pick from? What is he, a Prince?”

Alya shrugged. “I don’t know how the wealthy work! Besides, I think Adrien and Lila have real chemistry! Better than him and the Ice Queen.”

“You mean Kagami? I think he’s got better chemistry with her than Lila.”

Alya scoffed, “no offense girl, but I don’t think you can judge that objectively.”

Marinette frowned, hurt and betrayal flashing through her head before she stomped it down. “Maybe I can’t. But Adrien’s happiness is still important to me. Even if he doesn’t find it with me. Kagami isn’t as much of an ice queen as she seems.”

Alya shrugged. “Okay, I might be wrong. I don’t really know her that well. Maybe she got invited too.”

“I’m sure she did. She was always Adrien’s professional date for events. Gabriel seems like the type to build up PR where he could.”

“Mmmm, you’re right. I bet Chloe’s up there too.”

“She and Adrien have been friends forever. I wouldn’t doubt it.”

They ate their lunch quietly, both mulling over their own thoughts.

“Adrien didn’t look too happy.” Marinette commented.

“He’s sure he’s just nervous. He’s never had a girlfriend before.”

“Right…”

Alya sighed again. “I can’t help but feel like this is really good for you, Marinette. This might be what it takes to get over him. You’ve been stuck on Adrien for a while now.”

“Yeah…silly me.”

“Come on, I’m not calling you silly!” She protested. “I’m just…it was frustrating watching you get all tongue tied over him. I want you to be happy, Mari. I desperately do. But Adrien might not be that for you. Take some time and then…who knows? Luka has his eyes on you.”

“I know.” Marinette said, some guilt popping up at the name. “Maybe…maybe someday.”

—

After school, the limo arrived to pick them up. Adrien told his driver that Nino, Alya, and Marinette were joining him, while Lila jumped in to grab a ride.

Marinette sat on one side of Adrien, while Lila sat on the other.

“So like, what’s this contest like?” Asked Nino, conversationally.

“Well,” began Lila, with a confident little flourish. “Mr. Agreste is going to interview all the contestants. We’ve all been given a five minute allotment to write a speech on why we would be a good candidate. Of course, he has files on all of us so he can see background, family income, achievements, charities, etc.”

“With all of your accomplishments, I bet you have a real chance!” Chirped Nino. “How many contestants are there?”

“I’m not sure.” Said Lila, with an honest shrug.

“Dude?” Nino probed Adrien.

Adrien shrugged too, as he had been quiet the whole ride. “I…I have no idea. I was just told about it this morning.”

Marinette sucked in a gaping breath next to him. He’d only had a day to think this through? This really was completely unfair!

Finally, they arrived at the mansion, and they were ushered inside.

Gabriel greeted them in the entry hall, as cold and professional as ever. He raised an eyebrow. “I believe I said you could invite one friend for support,” he said, by way of greeting.

“This is a…big decision. I wanted people around me with opinions I could trust.”

Gabriel glanced at the assembled, his eyes lingering on Marinette for a touch too long. “I understand. Come now. The other’s will arrive soon.”

They were escorted into the parlor, where three chairs sat in a line, then a table with two other chairs behind it.

“Miss Rossi, please take a seat. The other two contestants will be here shortly. Mr. Lahiffe, would you be so kind as to grab more chairs for you, Miss Cesaire, and Miss Dupain-Cheng?”

“Sure dude—er, yes sir.”  

Gabriel took a seat at the table, looking at the three folders upon it.

Adrien begrudgingly sat next to him, as his three friends took up seats behind him.

Gabriel didn’t really want to do this. Match-making wasn’t something that felt worthy of his time. However, he considered this as killing three birds with one stone. 1) He’d get these girls to stop fighting over Adrien and being an embarrassment for Adrien’s career. 2) He’d have a controlled environment for Adrien to pick a girl. He wanted his son to pick a girl that was worthy of the family. After all, once Emilie came back, they would be a family again. 3) Whoever won or lost didn’t really matter. He’d get an akuma or two. And that made this all worth it.

And with the unsuspected surprise of Marinette Dupain-Cheng added, that added his 4th goal, to finally akumatize her. He wasn’t stupid. He knew very well that Marinette had feeling for Adrien. It was glaringly obvious. But since she had made no attempt to ask him out, he didn’t feel the need to invite her. Perhaps he should have anyways.

The second contestant arrived, as Chloe Bourgeois.

“Running late, are we Chloe?” Alya taunted.

“Not a bit.” Chloe flipped her ponytail over her shoulder. “You can’t rush perfection, you know.”

Gabriel twitched an eyebrow, and wrote down some notes. “Please, take a seat. The final contestant should be here soon.”

Lila had taken the middle seat, and Chloe took the one to her right.

Nearly as her butt hit the chair, the final candidate was escorted in. Kagami Tsurugi.

“Thank you for having me, Mr. Agreste.” She bowed politely.

“Thank you for attending.” He replied, cooly. “Please have a seat.”

As Marinette looked across the three girls, her stomach churned with unpleasant feelings. Nerves, nausea, dread…

And idea popped into her head, speaking in a voice that sounded a lot like Tikki. But she simply waved it away with a shake of her head.

‘Please please please don’t be embarrassing and try to ruin this in a fit of jealous rage.’ Alya’s voice piped up, as the angel on the other shoulder.

She swallowed, and looked to Adrien.

He was hunched in his seat, his leg bouncing quickly. She couldn’t see his face, but his body spoke of uncontested anxiety.

As far as Marinette was concerned, Kagami was the only one up there that deserved a chance to be with Adrien. She was honest and a hard worker.

But Marinette feared that she wasn’t affectionate enough to help Adrien.

Her voice crawled up her throat, resolution pumping through her veins, pounding in her ears, sweating through her palms.

This was a bad idea, a very very bad idea—

“Excuse me, Mr. Agreste?” She blurted, right as he was about to speak.

All eyes were on her, and she felt the immense pressure of it all. This was not like being Ladybug. These weren’t akumas and she had no authority in her civilian clothes.

“Yes, Miss Dupain-Cheng?”

Gabriel looked right at her, staring her down. But his tone held no judgement or impatience. Just curiosity.

“I was hoping, if it isn’t too late. May I also throw my proverbial hat in the ring?”

“You?”

“Yes. Of course, I know I wasn’t invited. So I understand if it’s a no.”

Gabriel was quiet a moment, thinking.

Adrien, however, was staring at her, mouth open, eyes wide. Utterly gobsmacked.

“Adrien, do you have any objections to having Miss Dupain-Cheng join the others in the interview?”

He breathed, his whole body relaxing in one sweep. “No, I don’t mind at all.”

Maybe it was the nerves, but Marinette could have sworn he looked relieved.

“Then I see no problem. Please bring your chair over with the others.”

“Thank you sir,” she said, humbly.

As she moved, Alya grabbed her wrist. “You promised!” She hissed.

“This isn’t a fit of jealous rage.” Marinette said calmly. She walked over and sat her chair next to Chloe, who looked furious. Lila gave her a smile that looked like friendly competition, but came off as a little smug.

Kagami just looked cold, and a little betrayed.

Marinette flicked her eyes meaningfully over to the other awful contestants, trying to send a message.

Kagami, smart as she was, seemed to get it, and quirked her lips in forgiveness. But her expression turned steely again. This was a competition, and she would not loose.

“Thank you ladies for all coming today,” Gabriel began. “I asked each of you here, because you have shown interest in Adrien in a romantic way. Relationships are important in our line of work, but Adrien’s significant other must reflect well upon the brand. Therefore, I have arranged this meeting. You will each be given five minutes to present why you would be the right candidate for this position. I will have a little say so, but ultimately the decision is up to Adrien.”

Alya and Nino shared a look, both getting the same vibe from the situation.

This was a job interview.

“Miss Kagami Tsurugi, the floor is yours.”

Kagami stood. “Thank you, Mr. Agreste.”

Marinette’s face paled. Kagami had note cards. She was prepared. She had probably prepared all week for this!

What was she doing!? Her whole speech was going to be her going “Da-uh--eh—cute boy—love Adrien!” And she’d be an embarrassment forever! She’d loose all progress she made with him! Their friendship was effectively over!

And judging by the way Alya was glaring at her, it wasn’t the only friendship that was going up in smoke.

“Adrien,” Kagami began. “You and I met in a duel. A match that was repeated over and over because we were in perfect sync. Perfect in rhythm and time, and perfect off the mat as well. We match in wit and grades, and in talent and grace. We match in family, and background. Our relationship will only be good for both of us, and our families. I strive for perfection in all that I do. Each task I come upon, I complete flawlessly. You are the only boy for me, as you have reached a level of perfection unparalleled in man. You and I connect and understand things that most people don’t. Fine manners, and public relations. You need a girl that can withstand the scrutiny of the media. A girl like me. I can be scrutinized and not bow to the pressure, for I have no flaws to display. Together, you and I will be perfect.” She nodded once and sat down.

“Thank you, Kagami.” Adrien said, sincerely. He liked Kagami, he really did. She was nice, and they got along…but the amount of times she dropped the word ‘perfect’ was a little unsettling. He didn’t forget Oni-chan. And while akumas couldn’t be held responsible for what they said, Kagami had announce that she deserved him because he was perfect.

But surely, there was more to her than that, right?

Gabriel said nothing, just wrote down some notes. Then, “Miss Lila Rossi, it’s your turn.”

Marinette watched Lila stand and take on this air of confidence that only came from living in a state of denial. “Adrien, as you and I have both discussed before, you and I make a wonderful pair. As you can see from my long list of achievements, you can see that I have a broad repertoire of skills, spanning from assisting with and upstarting charity work, leadership, academics, and of course, design. As the daughter of a diplomat, I am well spoken and naturally charismatic. I have a vast network of connections, and you’ll find it a benefit to join that network. Though I don’t doubt the power of the name Agreste, I can get you in contact with people you’ve wanted to connect with before. As an artist myself, I carry a fine eye to design, and can lend myself to the family business. I am acquainted with the workings of the modeling industry, and therefore require no training to pick it up. In fact, I can work as a liaison between different departments with my vast skill set. Along with all of this, you and I have good chemistry on the set as models. We work well together. And we’ll be even more amazing together.”

Marinette would have been impressed if that wasn’t all flaming garbage.

But judging by the way Alya was giving her a thumbs up, it must have sounded somewhat convincing.

Adrien nodded, “Thank you Lila.” He stated plainly. She sounded very professional for someone who just lied through her resume. But weirdly enough, it seemed like Lila was more presenting to his father than to him.

He already knew he wasn’t going to pick her, but he wondered if she was playing on her connection she had to his father. That would not be good…unless his father really was letting him pick.

That’d be a first.

“Miss Chloe Bourgeois. You have the floor.”

Chloe stood, a hand on her hip. “Adrikins,” she started.

Marinette couldn’t help but smile. Good old Chloe.

“You and I have been friends forever. You know what friendships are built on, right? Memories. And you and I have shared a whole lot. We were there for each other when our moms left. We survived that together, so why can’t we do more? Of course, you have no need of my money or fame, but business talk, we’re great. We’re already great. Adrien Agreste and Chloe Bourgeois, heiress and supermodel, beauty incarnate!”

That actually made Adrien chuckle.

“We’ll be the modern Brangelina. We’ll have fan clubs! We might even have a movie made about us!” Then she smiled, a smile that Marinette had never seen on her face before. One that was actually happy. “And you know, I like imagining a future with you. I think it could be fun.”

He quirked a smile at her. “Thanks Chlo.”

It was a nice sentiment. But he never had any feelings of romance towards Chloe. She was always a sister to him. And she had begun to fall out of his favor with her treatment of other classmates. It just wasn’t going to happen.

Marinette pressed her palms down hard into her knees to keep from trembling. Would it be awful to bow out now? Would that be rude and unprofessional? Would Mr. Agreste forbid Adrien from talking to her, since she was so flakey? She swallowed, once, twice, but her throat was still dry. Why did she do this?

Adrien looked at Marinette while his father finished writing notes about Chloe. Kagami had been somewhat predictable. She wasn’t being completely honest about her feelings with his father in the room. But, she did have a competitive streak in her. And…she always wanted the best.

Lila was also pretty predictable. It was all horse shit. Even if his father bought it and pressured him to pick her, she wouldn’t last because she wouldn’t be able to pull through on her promises.

Chloe. Chloe was a little refreshing. Informal, not really seeing a need to elaborate. They’d known each other forever, like she said.

But Marinette was a wild card. Sweet, kind, helpful, everyday Ladybug. As much as he detested this stupid stunt, having Marinette speak up to participate made it a little more tolerable. But…if she said anything like the other girls, he didn’t know if he could look at her the same way.

“Miss Dupain-Cheng. I apologize that you didn’t have time to prepare, but you have five minutes, just like the others. It starts now.”

She stood. “Thank you, Mr. Agreste.”  

I’m Ladybug. She told herself. I’m worth it. I deserve my chance at happiness.

Adrien watched as she closed her eyes and breathed. When she opened them, she looked right at him.

Were her eyes always so blue?

“Adrien,” her voice was soft and tender. This wasn’t a pitch, this was a secret, just for him. “I love you.”

Adrien gasped slightly, warmth settling in his chest immediately.

“When we first met, I hated you. I saw this fancy rich kid who was friends with the other bratty rich kid, and I made an assumption. I misunderstood your good deed. It was never the fame or wealth that drew me to you.

“It was that moment in the rain. You humbled yourself, and confessed you didn’t know how to make friends. I scoffed at you, I was rude and you had every reason to write me off and never speak to me again. But you didn’t. You offered me that umbrella, and took the time to explain yourself, because you wanted to be my friend. That kindness was an arrow to my heart, Adrien. And every time I see that kindness, I find myself falling over and over again.” Her voice wavered, as she started to loose courage.

Adrien just smiled at her, and nodded her on, desperate to hear what she had to say.

“I don’t have much to offer you. I’m the daughter of a baker, which makes for a modest living. The Dupain-Cheng’s are famous, but just for our macarons, and only in Paris. I come with a lifetime supply of sweets and carbs,” she giggled. “And um, I can make things for you. I know you can get whatever clothing you’d like, but…I can knit you some mittens to match that blue scarf of yours. And…most of all, I can offer you me. My ears to listen to you when you have a rough day, or when you just want to make puns. My eyes to watch you at your tournaments and support you. My hands to play video games with you and massage your shoulders after a long photoshoot. My arms to hold you when you feel lonely. And my lips, to kiss you and reassure you when you feel inadequate.” Then she swallowed again, her eyebrows furrowing. “If��even if you don’t pick me. I still offer all of this to you. Because you’re my friend, and I care about you. I want you to be happy. Even if it’s not with me.” She smiled slightly and sat down.

For a while, Adrien just stared at her, struggling to breathe. He could see her trembling. He wanted to run to her and hold her. He had never felt this strong of an urge before, but that’s what he wanted to do.

“Marinette, I…thank you…” he finally managed out.

“Miss Dupain-Cheng,” Gabriel spoke. “I must ask, you’re a budding designer, correct?”

“Yes sir.”

“Does a relationship with my son look like a in for you in my company?”

Adrien almost wanted to yell at the accusation, but stayed quiet.

Marinette thought a moment, then answered. “I’m here for Adrien. If I get a chance to work in the industry, that would be amazing. But if dating Adrien meant I sacrificed my own career…I think it’d be worth it.”

“Thank you, for being candid.”

“Yes sir.”

“Now then,” Gabriel stood. “Adrien and I, and company,” he gestured to Alya and Nino, “will be stepping into the other room to reach a decision. Please remain seated.”

As the door closed behind them, Marinette let out a sigh of relief and let the weight fall off her shoulders. She did it. She confessed to Adrien. She made her shot. Now it was up to him.

—

In the other room, Gabriel, Adrien, Alya, and Nino gathered around a television projecting the parlor on the screen.

“What’s this?” Alya asked.

“People act different when they think others aren’t watching.” He answered simply, and turned up the volume.

Chloe hauled off and whacked Marinette on the arm. “What the shit, Dupain-Cheng!?”

“Ow!” Marinette cried, more from shock than pain.

“Yeah, what the hell were you thinking?” Lila asked.

“I thought you were my friend.” Kagami bit. “How could you do this to me?”

Marinette rubbed her arm. “I just…I just wanted a chance to tell him. Before it was too late.”

Lila scoffed. “It was absolutely pathetic. And you ruined your own chance! You said ‘I can’t offer much, but what I can offer, I can give as a friend too.’ Why would he consider dating you then?”

“At least I had something to offer!” Marinette shouted back. “Your resume is all lies!”

“Doesn’t matter! Mr. Agreste likes me more than his own son. It doesn’t matter if Adrien knows I’m lying, Gabriel doesn’t. And daddy pulls all the strings. I’m going to be Adrien’s girlfriend.”

“Whoa whoa whoa!” Chloe shouted. “No way! Gabriel likes me more! Who doesn’t? I have fame and notoriety! And I’m prettier!”

“Stop it!” Marinette shouted, genuinely upset. “Stop talking about Adrien like he’s a prize to be won! He’s not a trophy or a piece of meat! He’s an intelligent, kind, loving man! He deserves someone that will love him!”

“I love him plenty!” Chloe cried indignantly.

“I love him more!” Kagami interjected. “And Marinette’s right. He’s a person. He needs someone on his level that understands his life. Marinette…that person isn’t you. You don’t understand what kind of pressure he’s under. You don’t understand strict families and high expectations…you haven’t done anything to deserve him.”

Marinette closed her eyes, trying to keep from crying. That was a low blow.

Lila chuckled. “Did you see the look on Alya’s face when you invited yourself up here? She was so angry! Probably because she’s so sick of you embarrassing yourself.”

“It was really embarrassing.” Chloe added. “You super don’t belong up here. I’d be surprised if Adrien ever spoke to you again after that stunt.”

Lila grinned at that. “Hey, nice work! You did my job on your own. I told you, didn’t I? You’d loose all your friends, and Adrien would be mine. Jealousy really is a little bitch, isn’t it?”

Marinette screwed her eyes shut, rocking in her chair, and begging herself not to cry. This had been all a big mistake.

“So what are you going to do now?” Lila asked, taunting her more. “I hope you switch schools. It would be so much easier. But if you stay, I’m sure that would be even more fun. After all, I hold all the cards now. No one will ever listen to you again!”

Alya’s mouth dropped open as soon as Lila went off. “She…she lied?”

“She’s lied this whole time.” Adrien provided softly. “Marinette tried to tell you. I guess…I didn’t realize why you didn’t believe her.��

Gabriel muted the TV. “Well. We have four candidates, each with some benefit…except Miss Rossi, obviously.” He closed her file. “But, true to my word, the final decision is yours.”

“I know who I want.”

“That soon?”

“It’s easy.”

Gabriel nodded. “Then we’ll return.”

—

Marinette breathed and dabbed her cheeks with a handkerchief to wipe away her tears. If this was how it ended, she would remain dignified.

The door opened and the others returned. Adrien looked nervous again, but a lot more optimistic.

“Adrien has reached a decision.” And Gabriel gestured him forward.

Adrien swallowed. “I’m sorry that you all had to get involved in this. It hurts me that I have to break hearts today. That’s something I never wanted to do. Kagami…I’m really sorry. I did enjoy the fun we had together, and I hope we can still be friends.”

“Of course, Adrien. I understand.” She looked mildly forlorn, but hid heartache well, for Adrien’s sake.

“Chloe, you’re right. We have been friends for a long time. And I love you, but like a sister.”

Chloe pouted. “Ugh, save me your ridiculous pity speech.”

Lila sat up a little straighter, her smug smile emerging as Adrien turned to look at Marinette.

Marinette looked to him, steeling herself for the rejection that would come.

“Marinette…I…” he stepped closer. “I’m speechless. I…I’m so glad you spoke up!” And he rushed to her, scooping her out of the chair and crushing her to him. “Thank you. For seeing me.”

She blinked up at him, still in shock. “Does…that mean I won?”

“Yes!” He laughed, exasperated. “I chose you!”

Marinette trembled before clinging to him tightly, and sobbing. “These are happy tears!” She declared.

He laughed at her and just squeezed her tightly.

“Um, I don’t mean to interrupt.” Said Lila, obviously interrupting. “But Adrien, I think I should warn you. Marinette isn’t as innocent as you think—“

“Oh shut up Lila.” Alya spat. “No one’s buying your bullshit.”

Lila gaped at her. “But-But Alya! You know how Marinette gets!”

“Yeah, she’s not as bad as you. She didn’t have to lie to make friends. And she certainly cares about Adrien more than you do.”

“What? I would never—“

“Dude, there’s a camera. We saw the whole thing.”

Gabriel loomed over Lila. “‘Daddy pulls the strings’ hmm?”

“Its…a figure of speech?”

Gabriel wasn’t impressed. “Leave my house. If you so much as touch my son or Miss Dupain-Cheng, I won’t hesitate to file for a restraining order. Consider this your only warning.”

Furious, Lila stomped out of the mansion.

Kagami approached the couple. “Sorry for what I said, Marinette. I guess you really do deserve him.”

Marinette wiped her cheeks. “I forgive you Kagami. I’m sorry too.”

“You have nothing to apologize for. You love him, and you deserve to be able to tell him. I’ll see you guys around.” She bowed to them and then to Mr. Agreste. “Thank you for the opportunity.”

Then Chloe was left. She looked at them, and ‘hmph’ed. “I don’t approve. But…as long as you’re happy.”

“I am.” Adrien confessed.

“And Dup—Marinette?”

“Yes, Chloe?”

“Break his heart, and I’ll ruin your life.”

“Noted.”

“Good. Now, I’m off to shop my woes away. I might even pick out somethings for you Marinette, now that you’re dating the son of a fashion mongol, you have to look presentable.”

“That’s very kind of you, Chloe.” Marinette smiled softly.

“Of course, I’m the nicest.” And she left as well.

“Now,” said Gabriel. “Miss Dupain-Cheng, please tell your parents to expect a call from Nathalie in the coming days. We will be arranging a time for us all to sit down for dinner and discuss this relationship going forward.”

Marinette nodded, trying to collect herself. “Yes sir, absolutely.”

“And, in regards to the question I asked. I don’t expect you to quit designing. In fact, perhaps I can give you a portfolio review, when you’re ready.”

“That would be wonderful, sir.”

“Now that that is settled, I must get back to work. Adrien, your friends may stay for dinner, but must leave before 8:00. Agreed?”

“Yes sir, thank you.”

He nodded once and then headed to his office.

Alya met Marinette’s eyes and just shrugged shamefully. “Mari I…I don’t know what to say. I’m glad you ignored me!”

Marinette offered a smile. “It’s alright Alya.”

“No, no it’s not. Lila conned us, all of us for a long time. What was that thing she said? ‘Your friends will all leave you and Adrien will be mine?’”

“Yeah, it was a threat she made against me, the first time I called her out.”

“God, I’m such an idiot. I thought about it two seconds after she admitted to lying about her achievements, and saw right thru her stories. I have no idea how I was so blind!”

“Well, we have some damage control to do,” said Adrien.

“Nah uh.” Alya poked him in the chest. “We have damage control to do. You two, have a lovely first date!”

Marinette blinked, a blush rushing to her face. “O-oh!”

Adrien’s arm hooked around her waist. “We’ll pass the time somehow. Video games?”

Marinette breathed. Everything was fine. This was great. “Yeah, that sounds fun.”

“Catch you dudes later!”

—

Up in Adrien’s room, Marinette sat on the couch as Adrien glanced through his video game collection. “Let’s see, I knoooow you like Ultima Mecha Strike, but I want to win a little.”

“Aw, won’t let the girl win on the first date?”

“You’re cute, but you’re not that cute.”

She giggled, her face alighting with a blush. Adrien thought she was cute! “Rude!”

“Yeah, I forgot I’m bad at jokes.”

“You’re not bad at—“ The girl I love doesn’t like my jokes either. “Oh. Oh my god.”

“What?” Adrien returned, hearing panic come into her voice.

Marinette stood, preparing to leave. “Adrien, I…I can’t do this.”

He blinked. “What?”

“You don’t love me.”

“Well…” he rubbed the back of his neck, awkwardly. “Not…not quite. But I really like you, and I know if I just spend a little more time with you—“

“But, what about the girl you’re in love with?”

He wilted, instantly. “Oh. Right.”

“We have to redo this contest or something! She has to know! She needs a fair chance too!”

Adrien smiled at her. Even at the sake of her own heart, she was still thinking of others. “No, Marinette, that ship has sailed. I held out for her…but she rejected me. A lot actually.”

Marinette’s heart ached for him. She reached out and took his hand. “Adrien?”

He shook his head. “For a while, I believed that any other romance was being unfaithful to her. But, how can you be unfaithful to someone you’re not in a relationship with? It’s stupid.”

“No, no it’s not.” She insisted. “I know exactly how you feel.”  

“You…you didn’t give up someone waiting for me, did you?”

“I turned someone down, but I didn’t love him. I was fond of him, and he’s a great friend…but I didn’t love him.”

“Oh…Luka?”

“Oh…yikes, him too. And Nathaniel. Gee, I’m a heart breaker.”

He chuckled. “No Mari, I think you’re just very lovable.” He kissed her forehead. “Don’t worry about that other girl, okay?”

“But like…I am going to worry. Can you tell me who?”

He pouted. “Don’t laugh.”

“Never.”

“Okay…it’s Ladybug.”

She blinked. “…Ladybug?”

“I know it sounds crazy, but…she’s saved me a few times, so…”

Adrien had never confessed to Ladybug. Unless he did it as Aspik and she didn’t remember, but she knows she would have said yes to him. Ladybug had gotten plenty of confessions, but not several from the same person, except for—

No.

No way.

Marinette stepped away from him, her hands over her mouth.

“Oh great, now you think I’m some sort of weirdo, right?”

She shook her head, but didn’t remove her hands.

“Then what is it?”

Marinette was the new guardian. She alone held the responsibility of the Miraculous. But this thought kept nagging at the back of her head. Someday, they’d have to reveal their identities to each other. She’d need to know who he was incase of emergency.

Looked like today was that day.

She pulled her hands away, resting on her heart. Then she drank him in, letting the pieces come together.

“Oh kitty.”

Adrien’s eyes widened. “Wha—?”

“I’m so sorry for hurting you. You were the other boy.”

He choked on his breath, then took a staggering step towards her. “My lady?”

“Yes, kitty. I’m right here. You found me.”

He closed the distance, crushing her body to his once again, this time with tears of his own. “I knew I picked right! I knew it!”

“Oh Chat! It’s you! I’m so glad it’s you!”

“My lady!” He pressed his lips to her face over and over again, not caring if he connected to her mouth or not. He just wanted to shower her in affection. “I love you! I love you I love you I love you!”

“Adri—“ Her words were cut off by his kisses and her giggles. “I love you too, silly boy.”

He cupped her cheeks holding her like she was precious and delicate. “We have to be even. I can offer you my wallet, to pay for school and whatever supplies you could ever want. I offer my eyes to drink in your perfect face every day. My ears to listen to your adorable laugh at my perfect puns.”

She giggled.

“Like that! And I offer my hands, to hold you when you’re lonely. And my lips to kiss you senseless when you need a break from all your stress!” He kissed her deeply, making her hazy. “And I offer my abs, to carry you through the threshold when we’re married!”

“You lift with your legs, Dingus.”

“Then what can I offer my abs for?”

“Those are just for me,” she cheeked, running a hand down his shirt.

“I’m going to kiss you again.”

“I’m not going to stop you.”

He pushed her over to lay on the couch, as he leaned over her and kissed her again. Her fingers dove into her hair as his own cradled her. “My lady,” he breathed.

“My prince.”

An explosion rocked the city, startling the two teens apart. They shared a look, and then laughed.

“Alright, four macarons says it’s Lila.”

“Hmm…five says it’s Chloe.”

A third voice, belonging to Plagg, spoke up. “And if it’s Kagami?”

“A draw.” They said together.

“Oh, one more smooch before we go, my love?” Adrien grinned.

Marinette rolled her eyes. Rolled her eyes at Adrien! “Oh, I suppose one wouldn’t hurt.” She pecked him gently. “You can have more afterwards.”

“Smooches Gracias!”

“Smooches revoked!”

“Nooooo!!”