#and i close it in a huff and never get to scroll through the journalists i follow lmaooo

[ratatatastic]

oh another insane ekky quote has hit the towers huh

[cindylouwhooo]

Chapter Three

Gigi’s POV

A pounding headache and a dry throat greet me with the morning sun, as I struggle to get out of bed. It must be the thirtieth minute of my daily aimless scrolling through Twitter and Instagram, and I find myself looking for the negative comments. In my head, I’m fully aware how wrong it is, how I’m not supposed to give into the haters, how I’m supposed to close my eyes and move on with my life.

But some hopeless, insane part of me believes that every negative thing that I come across social media will light that fire that’s long put out inside me—that I’ll take the bait and get into the studio, write the greatest album of all time and be rid of all the weight of what my name brings me.

Of course, by the reach of the hour, my brain has been convinced that my previous albums were a pile of shit and that I’ll never be able to write anything in my life, ever again.

The phone drops from my hand and I dig my body further into the mattress, letting the peace and comfort of my bed convince me into getting some more sleep. I dream of nothing, and I wake up realising that I might have dreamed of my future career.

~ ~ ~

Lando’s POV

“Please.”

“I can’t help you.”

“Yes you can.”

“I absolutely cannot. Kika will kill me and then break up with me. And I can’t have that.”

I let out the longest sigh as I walk beside Gasly. Journalists, photographers, engineers and other drivers walk past us, looking, whispering. Not that I care. I couldn’t even if I tried.

“Fine, just give me Kika’s number and I’ll ask her.”

After glaring at me for mentioning his girlfriend’s name, he begrudgingly pulls out his phone and brings it to my face. I scramble to grab mine from the pocket of my sweats and hastily tap down Kika’s number.

“I’m choosing her contact name.” He demands, but I’m only half listening—too focused on trying to transfer the numbers correctly from his phone to my contacts.

She’s ethereal. I don’t even know how I went all my life without glancing twice at her—speaking as a person who happened to have done just that the previous night, as is now unable to look at anything else.

Gigi Santos could easily be way out of my reach, but I’d be damned not to try extending my arm towards her; just to see if angels really exist.

“Honestly, I can’t even believe she followed you.” Pierre admits as we keep walking towards the media pen.

I let out a huff, slightly agreeing with him, yet still offended he’s find that surprising.

“Gigi is super private, doesn’t like people much.” He goes on. “But maybe that’s good, that she followed you. I don���t know. Anyways, I gotta go—watch what you say to my girl.”

I roll my eyes and start walking the other way, eyes fixated on the screen in front of me.

Unknown

Hi Kika. It’s Lando

Norris

From formula one

Pierre’s girl

Hi!

Everything okay?

Lando from formula 1

Yeah, no all good 👍🏻

I was just wondering, I mean,

I was thinking about your

friend.

Gigi Santos

She is, she’s cute

Pierre’s girl

She sure is

Lando from formula 1

Yeah and I was hoping

maybe I could get her

number? From you

Pierre wouldn’t give it to me

Pierre’s girl

Sorry!! She doesn’t like random people having her number without her knowing :(

But I’m sure you’ll have your chance at talking :)

Lando from formula 1

What do you mean?

Pierre’s girl

I mean, it seems like you’re already in contact

Kind of

I smile, knowing exactly what she was talking about.

The post I made just this morning on instagram, was a long shot, risky and could possibly lead to Gigi Santos thinking I’m a cocky arsehole. But my fingers itched as they lingered over the post button, my whole body vibrating with a random need to interact with her—without looking like a needy fucking chad, who DMs her with no cause.

My heart almost stopped when my eyes caught her name on the liked list, and I swear I stopped breathing when her post popped up on my feed—I’m single too btw.

I nearly hop over to Kaylee, my PR manager, who seems much too irritated for a Thursday.

“Good morning, Kaylee.”

“Just morning will do, Lando, since you decided to make a social media uproar by declaring your marital status.” She eyes me, surely picturing how it’d be to strangle me. “I want no mention of anything close to your relationship status, Instagram, plans of partying after the GP or Gigi Santos.”

My eyes pop out of their sockets, shocked to have someone else acknowledge our little interaction.

“W-what?”

“I’m not dumb, or hiding under a rock. Neither are the journalists, nor the people who’ll view your interviews. Just be mindful. ‘S all I ask.”

I nod, not trusting myself to say the appropriate thing, and try to prepare for a day of avoiding my favorite subjects.

~ ~ ~

Instagram Reels - Lando Norris, Media day, last interview of the day

142.038 views

comments

LLL4NDO.NORRIS bro literally changed ten colors when asked about his post LOL

ln4fan what a cheeky shit, pretending not to know mother Gigi

44loves04 LANDO YOU AINT FOOLING NO BODY

gigimothersantos this man better be joking

gigi1604 MY TWO WORLDS COLLIDING

f1fan63 am i the only one that’s confused?

gigisantos at least he said he loved my songs 🤷🏻‍♀️

-> santossssslovr MOTHER

-> gigiismyqueen go get em girl

-> hayleelovesgigi give us the album!!!!!

~ ~ ~

Gigi’s POV

I smiled at my phone, overly amused by whatever game I decided to play.

I don’t know what made me rise from the hungover/coma I was in a few hours ago, just to make a post about being single and commenting on that reel.

There’s no logical explanation other than the sudden need to be in this man’s world.

It was clear the post Lando made was about me, and, honestly? I found it terribly adorable. My heart flipped and my lunges filled with an energy I hadn’t felt in a long time…plus, he’s a race car driver and I’m single.

Having fun and playing this little game with him while I’m here won’t hurt. I need a new distraction from whatever’s going on in my career anyway.

Maybe coming to Monaco was a better idea than I originally thought.

———————

SMALL, SHITTY AND ALMOST POINTLESS but I suck at intro chapters and I promised two chapter before the new year

i will definitely do better next time and get into the characters and ACTUAL plot lol

anyways, i hope you enjoy your New Year’s Eve!! 🥂

cindy

(ps. my inbox is open if u wanna say hi 👋🏻)

[adventuresinwonderlust]

Title: Studio Session

Pairing: Idol! Yoongi x reader  

Warnings: smut, fluff, oral (f) receiving, unprotected sex (wrap it up folks)

Rating: 18 and over

Permanent Tag List: @mochilicious-yoongi​ @heyimtavia​

You grip Yoongi’s hand tightly, leaning into his shoulder as the barrage of camera flashes surround you both. You groan at the thought or tomorrow's headline on Dispatch, whining at how once again another date night is ruined by nosey journalists trying to get front page news.  

You both finally make it safely to the car, Yoongi assisting you into the passenger seat, braving the crowd alone to get to the driver's side. He enters the car in a huff, starting the engine and honking on the horn for the crowd to back away. “I suppose they are happy to get run over.” He grumbles, arm gripping the passenger chair as he veers out the back windshield, backing out of his parking spot slowly. You look over at his stoic expression, wanting but deciding not to ask if he’s ok.

You arrive back at the Hybe building and up to Yoongi’s studio. He plops down in his chair, releasing an aggravated sigh, his fingers typing furiously on his cell phone. He places it down on the panel in front of him, swiveling in his chair to face you. “I’m so sorry jagi. Are you ok?” You look up at him and nod. “I’m fine. Why are you sorry?” He trots forward in his seat, gripping your knee, squeezing gently. “Another date night ruined. I know you're thinking it. I'm sorry, I really though I kept everything under wraps. I have no clue how the fans found out, let alone those journalists. You must hate dating me.” He pouts, looking down at his hand around you knee.

Your eyes widen and you rest your hand on his cheek, lifting his face to meet your gaze. “I love you so much. I don't care about fancy dinners at a fancy restaurant. I much prefer it being just the two of us here in your studio or under a bridge. Why don’t you play me something you’ve been working on?” He chuckles, turning to look at his new setup. “No, I don't want to make tonight about work.” “It’s ok Yoongi. I want to hear what you’re working on. Please.” He takes in a deep breath and trots himself back to his equipment. He opens his laptop and scrolls through his latest works. “This one I’ve been working on recently but I’m not really happy with it. I feel like, its missing something.” He complains from behind the hand covering his mouth.

“Well now you have to let me hear it so I can tell you how horrible it is.” You tease, moving to sit beside him on the desk. He laughs freely, his teeth on display as he clicks play. The track soon filling the room, followed by Yoongi rapping free style. “I’m just fooling around. This isn't the finished product.” He explains. You nod. The track ends quickly. “Play it again.” You nod. He plays it again and you listen more intently now. A sly smirk spreads across your face, a dirty thought entering your mind. You remove your foot from your slide, biting down on your bottom lip when you bring it up to rest on Yoongi’s thigh. He looks down at your roaming foot, swallowing hard when you wriggle your toes against his belt. “I know what's missing.” You whisper. “What’s that?” He inquires, grabbing your ankle to move your foot to the other thigh, spreading you wide so he can sneak a peek under your skirt.  

“Me.” You shrug. Yoongi wheels himself forward, “Is that so?” He questions, reaching behind you and pulling out a small black recorder. He places its beside you on the desk, raising his brows attempting to test your resolve. You simply glide your hand over your thick thigh, lifting your skirt to reveal your blush thong to him. He licks his lips, pressing record on the device before sliding towards you. He lifts your other leg from the floor, forcing you to sit completely on the desk, resting your feet on the arms of his studio chair. Before long, he dips his head between your thighs, shoving your panties to the side.  

He licks your slit with the whole of his tongue, parting your lips with his fingers, to reveal your hardened clit. He wraps his pout around your nub, sucking on it, humming happily when you moan out loud. Your legs fall wide, your hand digging into his hair when he rolls his tongue quickly along your sensitive bud. You moan freely, hoping the small recorder is catching every sensual sound that leaves your mouth. You buck into Yoongi’s face, feeling your walls quake with the threat of your impending orgasm. He moans into your cunt, entering you with two fingers and rubbing along your g-spot. You pant wildly, fucking Yoongi’s face now, your orgasm building quickly. “Yoongiiii-ahhhh.” You cry out, white waves of pleasure coursing through your body. You are a panting mess when you come down from your high. Yoongi licking his lips and fingers, stands, frantically undoing his belt. You look over at the recorder, reaching to stop it. Yoongi stops you sliding it over and shaking his head at you.  

He lowers his pants and underwear just enough to free his fully erect cock, moving forward to kiss you hard. You reach down to stroke his length when it stabs into your belly. Yoongi moans into your mouth, grabbing and squeezing your ass before spinning you around. He lifts your skirt, slapping down on the plump flesh of your bum. He grips and spreads your cheeks to reveal your swollen pussy to him, leaning his hips forward until just his tip enters you. “So, pretty. So, tight.” He whispers, pushing his full length into you now. You both groan at the feeling, Yoongi reaching up to tug your shirt down, your full breast spilling out into his large hands. He begins to thrust into to you hard, teasing and tugging at your pert nipple. “Ah, jagi, you always feel so good around my cock. Tou...touch yourself, I need to feel you cum around my cock.”  

You moan at his neediness, reaching down to rub at your swollen clit. You move your hand faster to keep in rhythm with Yoongi’s desperate thrusts. “Yoongi, so close.” You mewl, feeling your cunt become slicker the closer you get to climax. Yoongi releases a long wild groan, the lurid sounds of your copulating surely turning him on. Your body gooses and your head prickles and soon you feel the buildup of your release. “That’s it jagi, cum for me.” He pants, feeling your walls quiver around him. “Yoongi, Yoongi. I'm cumming!” You cry, rubbing your clit quickly and roughly as Yoongi fucks into you wildly. “Jagi, fuck, that’s it, milk my cock. Fuck, I’m cumming.” “Yes, please fill me up.” Yoongi grunts unabashedly into the studio, his head falling back, then dropping onto your back. His thrust soon slow, although he remains inside of you until his cock soften and falls.  

He reaches under the desk for a box of tissue, yanking a few out and cleaning you up. “I love you.” He whispers, kissing your forehead and then your lips. “I love you too Yoongi.” “I promise, I'm going to figure out how to have the perfect date.” You laugh, pulling him close. “Don't worry about that you silly man.”  

A week later, Yoongi asks you to meet him at a local restaurant. You enter surprised to find it bustling. You move through to the back to find Yoongi sitting in the back with his cap low and mask high. “Wow, incognito much?” You giggle, leaning in to tug his mask down and kiss him. “I promised I would figure something out.” “Will you eat with your mask on?” You tease. He laughs, digging into his bag. He pulls out his headphones, plugging them into his phone and handing them to you. “Here listen to this. I fixed the track.” You place the buds into your ear and Yoongi plays the track from the studio a week before, only this time there is an undertone. You squint to hear what it is, since it's so faint you could miss it. “Play it again.” You instruct. He does as he is told, a smirk planted on his face. You concentrate hard, hearing a faint familiar pant just below the bass. Your eyes widen and you look over at Yoongi, who smiles wide. He tugs the bud from your ear. “You were right jagi, it was missing you.” “You’re such a perve! If your fans hear this...” “Don’t worry jagi, its very faint. Only we know what it is, but I have to say I enjoyed it so much. When do you think you can come back and join me for another studio session?” “Never! You have enough on that one recording, I’m sure.” “I could never have enough of you.” He bites his bottom lip, leaning in to kiss at your neck.  

[x-useobwa-x]

༄ You’re my beginning and my end, that is all | Part 1

~ Request ~

< Part 2 >

Former Idol!Hoseok x Reader

PLEASE READ! This part contains description of attempted suicide and post traumatic behavior. If you are sensitive to these topics, please DO NOT read this!! I've put the „keep reading“ button to the very beginning as a precaution, because it really doesn't start well.

a/n: requested by @depressed-philosophers-daughter! Oh god I'm going to hell... THE. ANGST. IS. REAL. (also who noticed that the title is one of Hoseoks phrases of Outro: Tear translated into English? It was just so fitting, oh god, I had to!) Thank you so much, I loved this request! I don't even know how I feel?? Am I extremely fucking sad?? Am I happy?? Am I still alive?? Is this heaven or hell?? SHIT SHUT UP YOU TELL ME AKKSSLLS!!! But yeah!! I hope you're happy with it, thanks so much again for trusting me with your amazing idea and giving me lots of space to work with!!💓

Start reading!

⇣ ⇣ ⇣ ⇣ ⇣ ⇣

You stopped on the spot and your blood froze in your veins when you saw him, the man you loved, as he collapsed onto the floor, heavy breathing, panting, trying to hold onto dear life- except for the fact that he wasn’t.

Cameras, police, ambulance, all of it was surrounding him, as his life cascaded down in front of him.

This was the moment you knew your feeling was right. The cryptic, weird messages he sent you last night suddenly made so much sense on this beautiful Thursday morning. But this morning wasn’t beautiful. This morning was the beginning of the fall, for the both of you.

You didn’t realize when you started crying, it was only when you found your cheeks burning and irritated from the salty substance that’s been covering it whole. Your heart hurt, it hurt so much.

You watched as his body started to spasm, to twitch on the floor while his mouth was wide open gasping heavily for air and his eyes rolling back. Your legs gave in, you dropped to the floor and managed to catch yourself last second on your hands before your face would have met the cold asphalt. Your heart broke on the spot, to say it shattered into countless pieces was a great understatement. Your breathing increased by all the panic that flooded you whole, your head feeling light by the cause of oxygen overdosing. His body now came to rest and stopped any movement. This had your heart dropping to the lowest point possible. He didn’t just.. did he?

Noise cut through the air. The noise, in fact was you, crying out loud, screaming all kinds of ,no’ and ,please’ when you notice how Hoseoks head slowly turned to face your direction, eyes barely open. The second he realized you were watching, his face, muscles weak, turned into something that seemed like the expression of sadness, guilt and all those kinds in one. He didn’t want this, he didn’t want you to witness this. It was supposed to be the moment that freed him of everything, a happy moment, but right now, he was wishing that he had never done this. The last action of Hoseok was him, lifting his arm the tiniest bit, reaching out into your direction and you could swear you saw his mouth moving and a tear rolling down his face. Then he was gone.

The emergency doctors scooped him up on a stretcher and quickly brought him into the ambulance.

One of the doctors was talking with a police officer, and that was the second your body started to move on its own. You ran towards the mass of audience that was watching- mostly journalists that tried to catch the lowest moments of your boyfriends life on camera. You squeezed and pushed yourself through but got stopped by one of the police officers, holding you back as you struggle and kick around in attempt to free yourself to reach the ambulance.

„I’m afraid I can’t let you pass, miss.“ the officer said, trying to talk over your cries.

„No!! I have to get there, you... you don’t understand!! This is my boyfriend! He’s dying you have to let me through, PLEASE!!“ you begged and begged, but the officer showed no mercy.

The doors closed and the ambulance drove off, and now you were there, alone. The whole group of people around you was fading out and you couldn’t do anything but stare. Stare after the ambulance as it rushed through the streets, sirens blaring.

This was the last time you’ve ever seen him.

Sometime later, you heard that he actually survived, and was put into compulsory hospitalization.

And that was the last time you also heard anything about him.

 - 2 years later -

 You think about it a lot, actually, all the time. The pictures find its way into your mind with every chance they get and you barely can handle it.

You managed to go back to live a normal life after some time passed, sure, but you never nearly got over it. You see him, his silhouette, every here and there while you slender through places with many passengers, as if he’d be looking for you, too. You smell his cologne almost every time someone walks past you, as if he’d never left you in the first place, still always by your side, and these were probably the worst parts. At home, you find yourself talking whole dialogues with no one, because your mind plays its tricks on you, making him appear in front of your eyes, his voice echoing in your head as it answers to each and everything you say.

You’re on your way to work as your phone pops up a notification on your screen.

[09:47] Hoseok♥: Hey babe, I’ll be a bit late for dinner today, interview’s taking longer than expected. Cant wait to finally be with you again. I miss you.

Your heart skips a happy beat and you slide to unlock, so you can reply.

[09:49] You: Of course, that’s no problem! I miss you too, I’ll be waiting.♥

But your reply never went out. You were hallucinating once again, and you come to realize that, when you got the message of error, saying that the number can’t be contacted. Sadness creeping up your insides, you sigh, as you lock your phone again, putting it in your handbag so you won’t look for his messages again.

As you walk down the avenue to reach the cafe you currently work for, you see him again.

Everywhere.

He’s standing on the other side of the street, waving at you, he’s sitting on the bench on the sidewalk, scrolling through his phone listening to music, he’s strolling through the aisles of the store next to you, looking through this and that while you can watch him through the shop window.

Shaking your head, you pull out your headphones from your pocket and plug them into your phone, playing some music.

Actually, this is a bad idea, so you stop, only a minute in, if even. You were only listening to his songs anyways, and that’s the worst you could do right now, while your mind is playing you dirty as it does every so often.

You almost made it to work. There your mind will shut its damn mouth, and you can finally breathe for a moment before the choking reality will hit you in the face once again.

 „Y/n?“ There it was again. His sweet voice. You know it isn’t real. You know it. And that makes all the worse.

„Y/n... it’s you, isn’t it?“ Despite your knowledge of your fucked up mind, you still turn around to face the direction his voice is calling out to you this time.

As your eyes meet his, you only huff in response with a sad smile.

„Hello, I’ve seen you a lot today, love.“ you say without thinking twice. Expecting the usual -the image in front of you fading as soon as you answer- you watch closely for it to happen, as if you’d have found some twisted pleasure in the hurt.

The more your eyes widen at the fact that this time, he’s still there.

His expression is surprised and worried at the same time.

„You have?“

Now you don’t even know anymore yourself. This was a whole new level. At home, he’s interacting with you, but he never does outside. What is this supposed to be? Unless...

You know its stupid, incredibly stupid. But if you’ve ever had the slightest spark of hope inside of you, it’s this one, and you were about to take it, to take the leap, the one that could either change your life completely, or throw you into a much deeper hole than you already find yourself stuck in.

Carefully, hesitant, you bring your arm up, slowly and scared for whats going to happen, and you reach out ever so small, straightening your hand, aiming for his chest.

Closer, closer, only a little bit left and - it hit solid base.

Your eyes widen an unreal amount as your gaze wanders from where your hand rests, up to look into his face.

This can’t be. This can’t be real. How, why...?

„...Hoseok?“ you say, voice silent, shaky and almost breaking.

If this is going to turn out as some sort of mindfuck, you are sure you will follow in his footsteps this time. This would be that one bit too much to take. This will either make or break you.

His hand comes up, softly cupping yours.

„Long time no see, y/n.“ he says, smiling the smallest of smiles.

Your heart stops beating. At this point you might pass out. While you can’t process what’s happening right now, you’re just staring.

While your eyes are locked with his, tears form at an unreal pace, spilling over your lower lash line, your other hand covering your mouth. He’s real. This time, he’s really real. You are so overwhelmed by what’s happening right now, your mind is calculating with light speed, checking every detail of it, making really sure for one last time that you aren’t tripping right now.

„You look just like the last time I saw you.“ he says now, breaking the silence, as well as breaking eye contact to look down onto the floor. You swallow hard.

„The last time you saw me, was me being terrified and scared... crying while looking at you.“ you finally manage to say.

„Yes...“, he says quiet, „thats exactly what you look like right now.“, voice now barely more than a shaky whisper.

You realize that he’s right. Right now, you must probably look as if you’ve seen a ghost come back to life- in fact this is basically exactly what this is for you. After years and years of only seeing an unreal version of what he once was, this certainly feels delusive.

Your tears still trailing down your face as if they were to never stop, Hoseok does something that you’ve longed for for what felt like an eternity, something you’ve needed the most during all this time; he pulls you into his embrace. This feeling was ethereal. It gave you the immediate feeling of being safe, that nothing can hurt you ever again. His smell clouding your senses, the smell you til this day call home. The two of you remain like this for a while, he wouldn’t let you go before your tears stopped, he never did. It really takes you a great amount of time to calm yourself. But when you do, it only is a small sniff that you give off, and then you look up to him, still held captive in his arms.

„Let’s go somewhere else, do you want to?“ he invites. You would love to. Every bit of what you are is screaming for this, on the contrary, there are screams for you to run as long as you can, as well. You are scared, so scared that those events would repeat, but the longing for him is so much stronger.

A second later, you realize that you have work, though, and that you most likely are late already, after you’ve been standing there with him for quite a while. Quickly, you debate with yourself whether you go to work or call in sick and cancel your shift, as if you wouldn’t already have made up your mind.

„Hoseok, I need to make a call, give me a second, okay?“

He sends a nod your way and you turn around to call in sick. Your absence for today is quickly approved -you’re their hardest working employee anyways, since you basically dive into work to distract yourself from thinking too much- and you turn back to the guy that’s patiently waiting for you.

„Where do you want to go?“ you ask carefully. You still cant quite believe that this is real, too long you’ve been dealing with hallucinating over him. Luckily, Hoseok seems to still know you as if he never left your side.

„You don’t really seem to be alright, which I can understand. Believe it or not, this is just as overwhelming for me as it is for you, but I also couldn’t be more happy if I’m honest. I remember you not liking public places when you’re not feeling good, so, do you want to head over to your place?“

Damn it, Hoseok. He causes your heart rate to speed up by the fact that he felt the exact same way and still is able to read you like an open book- one he’s already read once.

„That’d be great, yes.“ you answer and point into the direction behind you. „I still live in the same apartment.“ you add and he nods, starting to walk.

[rue-by-another-name]

“Flat out” -h.s. Part 2

Part 1

-----

-----

Waking up the morning of your birthday, you tried to keep your nerves in check. You expected pancakes and coffee in the least, but nothing too fancy. Instead, you found a quiet flat thanks to a very still asleep Harry. You didn’t blame him for that though, considering you had a pretty early class anyway. Who would want to get up at 6:30am willingly? 

So you made your own coffee and dressed for school. You wouldn’t be on campus much today anyway, but more in the courthouse. Your professor was working a case, a very high profile case, and you had been asked to be his consulting student. You were very excited about it, but due to the nature of the case and the amount of thugs you were sure you’d encounter, you’d yet to tell Harry about it. He could get protective of this kind of thing, and you didn’t want to have to worry about his feelings and the case at the same time. 

Harry was still asleep when you left, smoothing out your dress as you heels clicked down the hall on the way to the elevator. You’d get a ‘Happy Birthday’ text, you were sure. That at the very least. 

The courthouse was busy with reporters and journalists all awaiting their daily scoop. This was the murder trial of Joseph diTorino. And, as any mobster, there was quite a lot of speculation around the case. Luckily, you were defending Mr. diTorino, but instead the wife of the man whose son had been found shot dead and strung up in an alley - in typical mob fashion of course. 

All good fun.

You once again smoothed out your dress and made your way towards your professor.

“Ms. Y/L/N,” your professor nodded as you met with him in the hall. Professor Trent was a strict elderly man who you’d found was actually quite welcoming and supportive if you got on his good side. His good side included basically killing yourself over your work to prove that you’re a good student and an impeccable taste for coffee. You’d had him every single semester you’d been on campus and you’d spent quite some time in his office over the past couple of years pouring over his books and trying your best to talk your way out of the questions he had marked wrong but you were willing to protest were right.

“Hi Professor Trent. Where’s Mrs. Antonelli?” The poor widow was always running late, and you didn’t blame her for wanting to put off more time in a cramped room with her son’s killer. Her son, Bobby, was no older than you were, so you couldn’t help but think that what if that had been Harry, in another life, strung up in that street? You shuddered at the thought.

“Have you gone over the notes for today?” Professor Trent asked over the rim of his to-go coffee cup. He was scrolling through something vigorously on his iPhone, a device he barely understood but refused to ask for any help over. 

“Yes. I have. I’ve got everything down and have gone over your propositions and points for the day.”

“And what do you think about them?”

“Well -” You launched into your theories and ideas and plans of attack, watching closely as Professor Trent nodded at some points and furrowed his brow at others.

“You really have gone over these notes,” he nodded to you, “Good work.”

“Thank you sir. I just want Mrs. Antonelli to get the closure she deserves.”

“Well we should be going in,” Professor Trent nodded over your shoulder to Mrs. Antonelli as she made her way quickly down the hall. “And Ms. Y/L/N?”

“Yes sir?”

“Happy Birthday.”

--

You were starting to become immune to the pictures of Bobby strung up in a street and left for dead. You’d seen them so many times, studied them intently for any clues to give diTorino away. But you never got over the soft sighs and inhales of breath from Mrs. Antonelli every time they were shown. You desperately wanted to reach out and grasp for her hand, but you knew that was unprofessional. 

Come lunch time the session took a break, and you excused yourself out into the hallway as you checked your phone. You had texts from your parents and some from your friends, your best friend from school Felicity had called you three times before sending you an aggressive birthday text asking how drunk you wanted to get tonight. You couldn’t help but laugh. 

You also had a missed call from Harry, and so you called him back first, because you figured that maybe this was the apology for not being awake when you left. 

“Oh my gosh thank God you finally called. Where have you been?”

“School?” You furrowed your eyebrow and found yourself pulling at your lower lip, an annoying habit you’d picked up from Harry as you listened to him huff in annoyance.

“I needed you here,” he whined, “I didn’t want to call Maggie without you on hand in case I made a bloody fool of myself.”

“Oh,” you felt your heart sinking, “Well, um ... did you?”

“Yes! Yes I finally did. I know I said I was going to last night but then I figured she was probably sleeping because, you know, school night and all. But I called and asked and she sounded very excited to come over. So she’s going to come over tonight, is that okay?”

“Um, well I won’t be there. I’m busy tonight,” you decided. You didn't know if this was maybe some sick game Harry was playing where he really sold the whole ‘I forgot your birthday here’s your surprise party’ thing, but you were tired of it. 

“What? You’re never busy. Are you going to be studying or something?” Harry asked. You could hear him going about things in the background, and could tell he wasn’t fully invested in the conversation.

“Felicity and I are celebrating something tonight. I won’t be there.”

“Oh. Felicity,” Harry sighed, “She can come too. We can all celebrate together.”

“No. She hates you.”

Harry groaned, “Okay how was I supposed to know she couldn’t swim?”

“I don’t know maybe while she was screaming it as you flung her into the pool?”

“I thought she was joking,” Harry huffed. 

“We’re going out tonight. I won’t be at your date.”

“It’s not a date,” Harry corrected, “It’s a nice dinner amongst friends and I want you to be there so I’ll just reschedule.”

“I’m not -”

“You’re going to be there. I’ll let her know to come next Saturday.”

“Harry, I -” You heard Professor Trent call your name and you sighed, “I have to go.”

“Okay. Have a good class.” Harry hung up then, leaving you to just stand there dumbfounded. Harry had forgotten your birthday. You knew he had a lot going on in his mind with his new movie script he was reading and whatever else he does all day, but he’d actually forgotten your birthday. 

So you texted Felicity back, saying you’d be more than happy to get drunk with her ... on a school night.

You were moody for the rest of the week. You tried to hate Harry, or be angry with him, but considering you were always distant because of your homework and your workaholic schedule, you were hardly around to ignore him. You also avoided the library for a week. It was easy to find e-books to study from, get the materials you needed from fellow classmates, and you didn’t even like the coffee shop in the library anyway. 

But mainly you knew you were doing it for fear of seeing Maggie. That’s right, you were afraid of seeing a freshmen - you, a one more semester senior, was afraid to encounter a freshmen for fear that you would have to talk about your best friend. 

Whatever. 

Harry noticed you were in more of a tizzy over your schoolwork than usual, but he chalked it up to your upcoming exams. He found you’d put the old metal music stand he’d once used in the bathroom so you could turn pages and read while you were in the shower. Your room was more of a mess than usual and you’d completely forgotten to do laundry, leaving Harry to wash and fold all your clothes for you without you even having to ask. It wasn’t like he didn’t know where all your clothes went anyway, but still, you were a mess.

“How much wine do you want tonight?” Harry asked you as you scrolled through your emails curled up on the couch. It was Saturday night and you knew Freshmen Maggie was coming over in a couple hours and you should probably get ready, but you were too focused on figuring out which professor would write another letter of recommendation for you to really care. You had real life problems going on now, not Someone-For-A-Little-Bit Problems to deal with. 

“Probably a lot,” you mumbled, making Harry lean over the back of the couch and rest his chin on your shoulder.

“Wadidya say?” he asked, smirking and blowing out some air onto your face as you couldn’t help but smile at his dorky ways. 

“I said probably the whole box.”

“No no,” Harry nuzzled his nose into your neck. “We don’t drink boxed wine around here. That’s only when you’re all alone do I allow that kind of rubbish in my flat.”

Harry walked away as you scoffed. “Your flat,” you chuckled, “Please.”

“D’ya say something?” Harry called from the kitchen as you put down your iPad. 

“Nope.” You stood and tossed the blanket over the back of the couch before grabbing the glass from Harry’s hand and making your way towards your room. “I’m going to get ready.”

“Well I’ll come with you,” Harry shrugged. You turned and gave him a suspicious look. 

“Why are you coming with me?”

“Because I already pre-cooked everything and everything is in the oven and it’s all ready and if I stay anywhere near the kitchen any longer I’m going to continue to get progressively more nervous - I’m really nervous,” Harry rambled, clearing his throat at the end and clasping his hands in front of him as he awaited your response.

“Okay fine,” you sighed, “You can come with me.”

Harry was like a puppy following you into your room as you set your wine down and started getting ready for the evening.

“What do you think she’s going to wear?” Harry asked from your bed, watching as you sat at your desk and applied your makeup. He admired the way your hair cascaded down your back, framing your face in the mirror shining with the lights. He couldn’t help but notice the contrast of your lace bralette against your skin and the way your hair fell against the curve of your breast. But he quickly looked down to his phone instead, waiting for your answer.

“I don’t know. You act as though I know the girl,” you shrugged. 

“You do know her. She’s in your classes.”

“She’s not in any of my classes. I’m in senior seminar and research classes. I’m doing more work in the actual courtrooms now than in the classrooms.”

“But you said -”

“I know what I said,” you cleared your throat. “I haven’t seen her all week.”

“You haven’t seen her in the library? Has she not been there?” Harry furrowed his eyebrows. “Is she okay? She hasn’t mentioned anything to me.”

“No, Harry, I haven’t been the one with the time to get to the library. And I’m fine, so thanks for asking.”

Harry felt his cheeks tinge a slight shade of pink as he cleared his throat. “Right. Sorry. Yeah, like I said, I’m just -”

“Nervous. I know,” you watched his reflection in the mirror and gave him a soft smile. “You’ll be fine. You charm girls faster than a lawyer knows how to pick a juror.”

“Um ... thank you?”

“Yes that’s a good thing. You’re good a reading people and tailoring to their needs.”

Harry was quiet and you turned to see he was invested in his phone and had lost interest in what you were saying. “Hey,” he cleared his throat, “Did you hear about this trial going on right now?”

“Probably,” you chuckled, “Do you forget what I study?”

“Right,” Harry stood and came over to you, “This whole mob trial? Sounds really ... scary.”

“Oh come on Harry,” you stood and pinched his cheek annoyingly, “Don’t tell me you’re afraid of the big, bad wolf.”

Harry rolled his eyes, “This is serious stuff, Y/N. This guy they’re saying has probably been the cause of over 200 murders in the past 20 years. He’s a legit mob leader. This is Scarface level shit.”

“He’s also really short and wheezes like he’s going to die any minute after talking for more than five minutes,” you smirked as you zipped up your dress.

 “With any luck he’ll probably die before the end of the trial.”

“How do you know that?” Harry asked, eyeing you in your reflection in the mirror as you turned to shrug at him.

“It’s my profession, remember? I keep up on this stuff.” 

“Do you think you’ll handle cases like this at some point in your career?” Harry asked, following you as you made your way to the kitchen.

“Hopefully. It’s a high-end case.”

“But -”

“Is your chicken burning?” you asked, knowing that would instantly distract Harry. The topic of the diTorino case was dropped, and you took it upon yourself to help Harry in the kitchen with any last minute details. And you were pulling the rolls from the oven when the doorbell rang, leaving you to finish your task as Harry went to get the door. 

You could hear the greetings all the way from the kitchen, excited sounds of voices and the steps of someone in heels as two people reentered the kitchen. “And you know Y/N,” Harry smiled. 

Maggie was all the punk cuteness you knew she was, in all her glory. Her gorgeous chocolately skin and the adorable curly afro she rocked so perfectly. Her lips were a deep red, her nose ring shimmering in the kitchen lights, and her dress fitting her perfectly in every way you were trying to cover yours up. 

Of course Harry was into her. She glistened in confidence and she was smarter than anyone else you knew.

“Of course!” Maggie smiled and walked over, giving you a hug, “It’s so nice to see you again! You’ve been checking out so many e-books lately, my goodness. You must have your own library somewhere stored away.”

You smiled slightly as Harry snorted. “Oh she does. Her room is basically an explosion of books.”

“Same,” Maggie smiled, “It smells so good! I’ve been looking forward to this all week, I must admit.”

“Well good,” Harry smiled, “We’re just finishing in here if you’d like to go sit at the table?”

“No I can help!” Maggie was still smiling. You accidentally flattened a roll in your hand. No one seemed to notice. 

It wasn’t that you were angry with Maggie. You were just stressed with your trial, the fact that you seemed to work three times as hard as Maggie and still not do as well as she did in her marks. Plus, she looked like a fucking undead mystical princess in her dress and was far, far more mature than you were as freshmen. You weren't so much jealous of the fact she’d caught Harry’s attention, but more so jealous of just her in general. 

“So,” Harry said as you all sat down to dinner, “How has your first year been? Everything you imagined? All the sleepless nights?”

“It hasn’t been as bad as I anticipated,” Maggie laughed and passed you the rolls. You proceeded to squash another one and discreetly have to place it on the floor. You needed to get a dog to eat all the stuff so Harry just didn’t find random smooshy bread all over the floor. 

“Freshman Y/N was a caffeinated zombie,” Harry laughed, “She used her textbooks as a pillow.”

“I’ve heard horror stories,” Maggie laughed, “So how did you two meet? You’ve been friends for a while right?”

You listened as Harry launched into the whole story. About how you’d been a writer’s intern and the two of you had gotten snowed in at the hotel you’d been interviewing the boys at. “We’ve been friends since,” Harry shrugged, “We didn’t talk for a little while but when Y/N was moving to London she asked if she could stay at my place for a little while as she found her own flat.”

“And I’ve stayed ever since,” you sighed, “He wasn’t really around for a while, so it was mostly my flat.”

“So what are your plans after uni then?” Maggie asked, “You surely have lots of options I’m sure. You are Trent’s favorite.”

“Who's Trent?” Harry asked.

“George Trent is a professor. He’s a big deal lawyer. Also very old,” you informed Harry, “I’ve been working on trying to be on his good side for years.”

“He hates me,” Maggie groaned. Suddenly you felt a bit better about yourself.

“He hates everyone,” you gave her a slight smile, “Don’t take it personally. Just work hard and he’ll notice.”

Once dinner was over, you found yourself in the kitchen once more. Harry and Maggie were out on the small balcony, talking and laughing as you started doing the dishes. You knew Harry would badger you about it, telling you that you don’t need to do them but you’d do it anyway. Maggie was nice as she left too, making sure to thank you as Harry walked her to the door. 

It took a while before he returned, and you knew they were kissing. They were probably making out too. Maggie was Harry’s Someone at the moment, and he was making time to show that she was an Important Someone. At least, for now she was. 

Upon returning, you were almost done as Harry let out a long sigh. “That was so nice.”

“Yeah you really charmed her,” you chuckled, tossing him the dish rag so he could put it away.

“You really didn’t have to do the dishes.”

“Are we really going to go through this whole thing?” you asked, leaning against the counter and crossing your arms challengingly.

“You were kind of quiet tonight,” Harry noticed, coming over and leaning against the counter as well, his arm brushing against yours as you stood there together in the silence of the flat. 

“I’m just tired,” you sighed, “It’s been a long week.”

“Yeah,” Harry nodded, “Hey, that professor Maggie mentioned tonight, Trent right?”

“Yeah,” you nodded, “What about him?”

“Well, isn’t he the guy working the diTorino mob case?”

“Uh yeah. He is. He’s representing the widow whose son was killed.” You pushed yourself off the counter and turned to the fridge, grabbing the orange juice as Harry watched you closely. He could tell the topic made you uncomfortable, and he was still trying to figure out why. 

“Is he nervous?”

“He’s never nervous about anything,” you smirked, “He’s kind of a stone cold killer in court.”

“Well diTorino is a stone cold killer in general,” Harry sighed, “Maggie was telling me that oftentimes diTorino will go after the people who are defending his opponents. Is your professor capable of looking out for himself?”

“diTorino wouldn’t be that stupid to go after a lawyer or attorney on this trial. One wrong move, and they’ll put the guy away for good. The last time he was forced to act was when he murdered one of the opposing attorney’s research team after they brought up the old marks he used to put on his bullets. That fact alone basically put him away for the seven years he was in jail. But before the trial was over, the researcher was dead. And that alone solidified that he had either been the killer or he had ordered the hit.”

“Maybe that’s what your professor should do now,” Harry suggested, “Force his hand.”

You stared off into space as you held your orange juice glass to your chest, thinking on the details of the trial. “There’s not really anything he could go off of,” you shrugged, “diTorino was good about it this time. There weren’t any fingerprints on the body, he has a solid alibi - it’s on tape.”

Harry shrugged, “If there’s one thing all those ‘garbage crime shows’ as you call them, has taught me, it’s that tape can always be doctored.”

Harry kissed your forehead, telling you goodnight as you made your way back to your room as well, going back to the footage of diTorino at the smoking lounge he was out. There were also pictures of him leaving the lounge, after the time of the murder, with some of his bodyguards. 

You zoomed in and zoomed out, sipping on your orange juice as you let out a long sigh. “It’s a great piece of advice Harold,” you mumbled to yourself, “But we’ve got nothing,” you squinted and wrinkled your nose, “Oh gross. Who even buys his ties?”

The tie diTorino was wearing in the smoking lounge was the same color as your orange juice, an ugly orange against his oily complexion with hideous stripes going across the middle. 

“Not your best wardrobe choice there buddy,” you mumbled to yourself, clicking to the pictures of diTorino walking out of the lounge. Your eyes shot open, you heart beating faster as you zoomed in on the navy blue tie diTorino was now wearing ... a different tie than the ugly orange one.

And that’s just what you presented in court the next day to Professor Trent. Your eyes were huge and Professor Trent could tell you were excited as you showed him the footage you’d found, the timeline you’d constructed, and the accusation you figured you could make with diTorino on the stand. 

“You’ll present it then. Those are solid facts,” Professor Trent nodded.

“Thank you Professor I just - wait, did you say I’d be presenting it?” You felt your palms start to sweat as your professor gave you an encouraging and smug smile. 

“What?” he smirked, “Did you really think I would take all the credit for this case. Y/N, this is a good find. This could potentially put diTorino away for good. You should take this.”

“But sir -”

“Consider it a birthday present,” Professor Trent patted you on the shoulder. 

And that’s how you found yourself standing in front of the judge, the jury, and diTorino himself as you held the file in your hands. All thoughts of your potential murder aside once you blew open this case, you were calm, confident and collected. In fact, you were also kind of smug.

“You have a very interesting sense of style, Mr. diTorino,” you started, flipping through the file as your heels clicked against the floor.

“You don’t look too bad yourself, sweetheart. Master finally let his bitch off her leash?” diTorino smirked.

“Your Honor,” Professor Trent warned.

“Behave yourself, Mr. deTorino,” Judge Graff warned with her hard gaze.

“Oh it’s fine, Your Honor,” you brushed it off, “I do like this dress.” 

You hit the remote and the picture of diTorino came up at the smoker’s lounge. “So this is your alibi of the night of the murder, where you’re sitting there with your buddies having a cigar and if you look closely, you’ll see you’re wearing an orange tie. Very Charlie Brown with the stripes, if I do say so myself.”

“Your point?”

“Well, I was looking at this picture of you leaving the lounge, and you see here -” you zoomed in on the picture and pointed, “You’re wearing a navy blue tie.”

“So?” diTorino shrugged, “I spilled and had to change.”

“I figured you’d say that,” you nodded, “So I looked at some more pictures of you from the past couple of days, and I found these pictures of you talking with some buddies from three days prior. You’re wearing the same tie.”

“I don’t have many ties,” diTorino scowled.

“Doesn’t matter. Because I looked back at all the footage from the smoker’s lounge and if you watch right ...” you waited as the tie changed in color on the video, “ ... there,” you smiled, “Your tie just miraculously changes colors. And so, with a little help from our tech team, we were able to find the code used to splice the video so that it looked as though you had an alibi for the night and time of the murder. You were at the lounge the night of Bobby’s death, but not between the hours of 11 and 2 when he was murdered.”

You turned and gave diTorino the sweetest smile you could, “I have to hand it to you, you really went all the way. Making sure the video had the exact same people in it in the exact same position. Too bad you forgot to change your tie though.”

diTorino’s face said it all. You’d caught him. 

You were on this high of victory for the rest of the afternoon. You briskly made your way across campus, Felicity babbling about your victorious moments all the way as you laughed along with her.

“You should have seen his face!” she threw her head back and let out a cry of laughter. “He’s going away for such a long time. You were so merciless. And that dress comment! I was dying!”

“Yeah well I might also be dying soon,” you joked as you both made your way towards the library building, “I wouldn’t be surprised if he sends a man after me or something.”

“You really think he’d be that dumb? The last time he did that he went away for sure.”

“If there’s one thing diTorino hates more than being beat, it’s being beat by a woman,” you smirked, “So yeah, Professor Trent has already talked to campus security. I’m staying on campus until the case is over.”

“You can stay at my place!” Felicity clapped her hands, “That’ll be fun! Murder-free sleepovers for weeks.”

“I highly doubt the trial will go much longer now,” you shrugged, “Not to be too cocky. Besides -”

You stopped and nearly fumbled over your feet when you came to the front desk upon opening the door. Maggie was sitting at the desk, looking punk cute as ever with Harry leaning against in to talk with her. They both had concerned looks on their faces and were talking in rushed whispers.

“Ugh I hate him,” Felicity mumbled quietly and you shushed her quickly. 

Maggie saw you first, her eyes widening as she gripped Harry’s forearm and he turned around. His eyes met yours and you could see he was challenging you to say a single word as you approached awkwardly.

“Styles,” Felicity nodded, her curly red hair doing nothing to hide the scowl on her face. 

“I’m here to just return these,” you mumbled, handing Maggie the books as Harry continued to glower at you.

“Y/N,” he said evenly, “Could we talk for a moment?”

“I’m actually kind of busy. I need to -”

“Now,” he demanded, taking your hand and dragging you out of the library and into the parking lot, allowing the door to slam behind you. 

-----

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I hope you’re all liking this story so far. The next part will be cute and gushy, I promise. There shall be a momentary angst of a conversation and then back to the domestic and fluffy storyline that I feel can only evolve from the emotional conversation at the beginning of Part 3. So I promise I have a plan. And thank you for all of your messages! I promise I got and read every single one but I wasn’t commenting back because I’ve been tired and drained and under the weather. But they all meant so much to me and I promise you they made me smile and laugh and even cry a bit (for good reason, I promise). So thank you for all the support. I was so on the fence about this one shot - I still kind of am honestly - but your support means so much! Thank you!

Part 3 HERE