#did i add the red blazer because he looks fine | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

rickmandowneyjr · 3 years ago

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omg a request for a one shot!! imagine being lionel shabandar’s main competitor in business and y'all met at a painting auction and getting drunk and he fucked you senseless in his hotel room

Not Too Shabby

Smut, just straight-up smut (18+)

Pairing: Lionel Shabandar x Reader

Warnings: nsfw, degradation (name-calling), age gap

Word count: 2796

A/N: Okay so I might have actually lost it writing this one. Lemme know what you think lol.

Sipping on your whiskey, you were seated at the bar, waiting for the auction to begin. Your hair was gently pulled back into a low, messy bun, with a few loose strands framing your face. You wore a maroon pantsuit, showing off the top of your black, lace bralette under the blazer, as you casually leaned against the counter.

You shut your eyes as you rolled them, as the fourth person in the past half hour approached you. You were just about ready to say that you weren't interested when the person spoke, a small smirk appearing on your lips instead.

"[Y/N]. I see you've found the bar already." The person mused.

"Well, I need something to deal with the headache that comes with having to shoo men away over and over again..." you said, turning to face the man, "Shabby."

As your eyes met his, he raised an eyebrow at the sound of the familiar nickname. He took a seat and you eyed his outfit. He wore a deep red blazer, himself, and it looked great on him.

"Trying to match me, are we?" You teased.

"Please," he scoffed, rolling his eyes. "Don't flatter yourself."

"I don't need to do that, darling. That's what you're here for," you bit back with a wink.

You were blessed with yet another eye-roll for that comment. You chuckled softly as you took another sip.

"So, which one will you be going after?" He asked.

"I have my eyes on the 'Pendant portraits' by Rembrandt, but don't worry, I'll make sure to chase after whatever you have your eyes on as well," you said, giving him a cheeky grin. "The 'Impression, Sunrise', I presume?"

He rolled his eyes at you as he scoffed, turning to call the bartender, but you didn't miss the smirk he was trying to fight. Lionel Shabandar was a very successful businessman, media tycoon, and art collector. He ruled the industry. Well, until you showed up, at least. In the last three years, you'd grown enough to give Lionel tough competition and had managed to snag some of his clients. Needless to say, you were his biggest rival.

However, unlike his other competitors, Lionel didn't dislike you. No, he was rather fond of you, actually. Not only were you witty and fun to banter with, but also someone who he butt heads with in the industry. The biggest bonus though was that you were an art collector, just like him, which meant that he kept running into you at events like this one.

You talked business for a while, which basically meant that you made snarky remarks in good fun, till the auction started, and you were to take your seats. Walking into the room, you took a seat at a table and Lionel joined you, sitting across from you, facing you. As people began bidding, you showed no interest until the painting you had your eyes on was up.

Though multiple people had their eyes on the piece of art, you won, having bid $180 million, and left everyone shocked. Since Lionel had recently taken an interest in impressionism, he did not participate.

However, when the time came for Lionel to bid, you gave him a run for his money. The whole room fell silent as the bids bounced back and forth between the two of you. Starting at $30 million, Lionel was the first to bid and you outbid him almost instantly. Within the first minute, anyone else interested had dropped out, realising they stood no chance against the two of you. Eventually, Lionel bid a whopping $250 million after your bid of 200. Leaning back in his chair, he folded his arms and cocked an eyebrow at you, and his eyes said it all. 'Your move, darling,' you could almost hear the arrogance in his voice even though he hadn't spoken.

Dropping every single jaw in the room, you announced, "$350 million."

Even Lionel stared at you with a stupefied look, trying to comprehend what you had just done. As the auctioneer called for another bid, Lionel was about to speak up but his breath hitched at the feeling of your bare foot riding up his leg. He widened his eyes at you, causing you to chuckle under your breath. Pressing along his thigh, you stopped at his crotch, gently applying pressure to the small bulge that was forming. He visibly gulped and you took it a step further, stroking him between your toes. Hissing at the sensation, he shut his eyes and you smirked as the man finished announcing, "...going twice, sold! To no. 37, that is, Ms. [L/N]!"

Lionel's eyes snapped open upon hearing that, making him completely aware of his surroundings again. He shot a glare your way as you withdrew your leg, giving him an amused smile. He narrowed his eyes at you and you pouted. Thankfully, that was the last piece, allowing you to get up and leave, Lionel following you closely.

"That wasn't fair, sweetheart," he said.

You turned to face him as you approached the door. "No hard feelings, Shabby," you mused. "Besides, this isn't the first time you've lost an auction. Why so sour?" You teased, turning to exit. He pushed the door shut with one hand, pinning you in between the two. "That wasn't what I was talking about, darling," he said as he moved closer, and you could feel his clothed member pressing into you.

You turned around and placed a hand on his chest, tugging at the collar of his suit jacket, "I take responsibility for my actions. Now, are we going to your hotel room or mine?"

There was a mischievous glint in his eyes as he smirked at your words. He moved away, opening the door for you. You walked out and the two of you were immediately swarmed by a few paparazzi. The cameras flashed as they clicked pictures and asked you, "How does it feel to be on the Forbes 30 Under 30 list, Ms. [L/N]?"

Lionel leaned in, whispering to you. "I didn't know you made Forbes' list."

"Sure you didn't," you teased, and with a subtle roll of his eyes, he said, "I guess congratulations are in order."

"Don't feel too bad, Shabby. You would've made it too if you weren't so..." you paused, subtly side-eyeing him with a playful smile. "Old," you said.

Placing his hand on the small of your back, he said, "More often than not, my dear, age equals experience." The warmth from where his hand was spread all through you and you could feel yourself getting excited. Neither of you had looked away from the cameras, leaving the paparazzi none-the-wiser about your little exchange.

"No matter, though. You're about to learn that tonight," he said suggestively, and you finally looked away from the cameras, turning to face him with raised eyebrows. A smirk was plastered on his face and his usually hazel eyes seemed darker, clouded with lust.

With his hand still on your back, he ushered you through the crowd and into his limo. The moment you were inside, neither of you couldn hold back anymore. You kissed him, and his hands wrapped around your waist, pulling you onto his lap. As you straddled him, he pulled away for a moment, saying, "The Langham," and rolled up the partition.

His lips met yours again, effortlessly finding their rhythm once again. His tongue ran across your lower lip, asking for access. You obliged, parting your lips slightly. His tongue almost instantly met yours and they moved against each other in harmony. You pulled away, needing to catch your breath and his lips found your neck, diligently kissing and sucking on your pulse point.

He unbuttoned your suit, completely revealing the beautiful bralette underneath. His hand slid under the thin, lace fabric and you let out a gasp at how cold his hands were, instantly hardening your nipples. Your head lulled back as one hand massaged your breasts and the other gripped your ass. He pulled you closer, pressing your core against the tent in his pants.

"Lionel," you exhaled shakily.

The sound of his name on your lips only riled him up more, causing him to gently nip at your skin and roughly tease your nipples. You leaned against him, biting down on his shoulder to muffle a louder moan. He finally pulled away, looking at the reddened skin on your neck, a satisfied smile appearing on his face.

Sliding off his lap and back into your seat, your hand trailed to his trousers, palming him through them. He groaned as you gave him a soft squeeze, and you freed his cock, allowing it to spring free from its confines. He was huge and your eyes widened at the sight since it looked like he wasn't even fully hard yet. Your fingers wrapped around his cock and he leaned into his seat, letting out a soft moan as you started stroking him. His eyes fluttered shut and you took the opportunity to wrap your lips around his head, causing him to let out a throaty moan.

You chuckled at the reaction before taking him in deeper, hollowing your cheeks out. His fingers wrapped around your nape as you bobbed your head up and down his shaft, which was getting even harder. Your hand moved to cup his balls and he groaned in pleasure. You felt his cock begin to twitch in your mouth and picked up the pace. He came, bucking his hips upwards as his grip around your neck tightened, holding you in place as he released his hot seed deep in your throat. You pulled away, coughing lightly as you swallowed the last of it.

"Sorry," he panted, asking, "Was I too rough there?" You softly shook your head as you wiped the corner of your mouth, letting him know that you were fine.

Perfectly in time, the vehicle came to a halt. The two of you took a moment to look at each other and make yourself presentable before stepping out. You made your way through the lobby and into the elevator, where you found yourselves entangled in each other yet again, on the ride up.

Finally entering his room, he immediately pinned you against the door, his mouth claiming yours. Your hands made their way into his soft, fading blonde hair as his hands hooked under your thighs, lifting you up. With your legs wrapped around him and the door supporting you, he moved his hands to your jacket, fumbling with the buttons. The cool air, along with the feeling of his fingertips gently grazing your skin as he slid it down your shoulders, sent goosebumps across your body.

Letting the jacket fall to the floor, he carried you to the bedroom, his hands firmly gripping your ass as he did. His lips never left yours, and the kiss only got sloppier and more desperate with each step he took. He threw you onto the mattress, his hands wrapping around the waistband of your trousers as he yanked them off. Matching your bralette, you were left in a black lace thong and he let out a low growl as his eyes raked over your body.

He climbed onto the bed, straddling you as leaned over you to kiss you. Your hands fumbled with the buttons on his jacket and dress shirt, and he gripped your wrists just as you finished undoing them, pushing them over your head as he brought his mouth down to your still clothed breasts.

His lips found your peaks, leaving biting kisses through the fabric. One hand trailed down your side and found your dripping cunt.

"I've barely done anything and you're soaked. What am I to do with you, hmm?" He mused as he rubbed circles around your clit.

"H-have your way with m-me, daddy," you breathed, aching for his touch.

He raised an eyebrow at you, saying, "You're just a dirty little whore, aren't you?"

Your eyes slightly widened in surprise at the name-calling, but you were into it since it was Lionel. You nodded softly and he smirked at you. Quickly discarding your underwear, you felt him tease your entrance with his tip, rubbing along your folds as he said, "Tell me what you want, cub."

"Y-you. I want to f-feel you, L-"

He cut you off as his fingers wrapped around your throat and your eyes rolled back as he slowly pushed into you, spreading your lips for him as he entered you. Your back arched as he filled you up and your fingers gripped the sheets.

"Fuck! S-so... tight! He said, pausing only a moment before he started moving. Pulling out slowly, he rammed back into you, his head hitting your cervix. You whimpered at the feeling, pain and pleasure colliding in a way you had never experienced before. "Oh my G-god Li-" you said, but were cut-off by his grip tightening around your throat.

"Not that," he panted as he thrust into you, "Call me what you did, e-earlier."

You indulged him immediately, saying, "D-daddy, you feel s-so good!" You could see Lionel squeeze his eyes shut as he threw his head back, letting out a low groan. Relentlessly, he kept thrusting into you. An involuntary moan escaped your lips as he brought his fingers to your swollen clit, playing with it. Your nerves felt as though they were on fire, the stimulation bringing you closer to your release.

"I'm close," you cried out.

At that, he pulled out and flipped you onto your stomach. He leaned over your body, pushing deep into you, hitting you at a completely new angle. You buried your face into the mattress, muffling your sounds of ecstasy. Lionel moved close to your ear, his hot breath sending shivers down your spine as he said, "Does daddy's little slut want to come?"

You gasped. You weren't used to this - no man had ever called you names simply because they were too intimidated. For that very same reason, no one had ever been able to dominate you either. Not well, at least. Lionel Shabandar had unlocked a new kink for you today and you loved it. You nodded and he said, "Well, not yet. That's what you get for not letting me hear you."

You squirmed as you fought the climax that was building. You were doing pretty well considering Lionel was pounding into you, his cock brushing your g-spot with every thrust. As he slowed his motions to longer, rougher thrusts, you knew you couldn't hold back any longer.

"Daddy," you breathed. "I'm gonna-"

"Not yet," he warned, roughly kissing your shoulder.

"P-please," you begged.

His eyes met your gaze as you looked back at him with a pleading look. A smirk appeared on his face as he said, "Do you admit that you're daddy's little whore?"

You nodded yet again and he tutted, "Ah-ah. I want to hear you say it."

You gulped as you admitted, "I... I'm daddy's little whore."

"Good girl," he mused, picking up the pace. "Now.. come for daddy."

At that, your toes curled and you bucked your hips to meet his as your orgasm finally washed over you. He kept his pace, his own release inching closer as he felt your walls clamp down on his cock. With one last powerful thrust, he emptied himself inside you, leaning over your body as he placed a tired kiss on your temple.

"You did so well, cub," he praised as lay down next to you.

"Well, I agree with your wisdom. With age, comes experience, indeed," you said breathlessly and he chuckled lowly at your response.

Turning to face you, he said, "Considering how snarky you are, who knew you'd be so submissive in bed?" You rolled your eyes at his comment, not bothering with a reply. "Also, daddy issues? I never would've guessed," he teased.

"That's rich coming from the guy who enjoyed every bit of it," you bit back, playfully.

His arm wrapped around your waist and he pulled you into his chest, saying, "And there's my snarky little cub." He placed a kiss on your shoulder and you turned around to face him.

"I'm gonna hop in the shower real quick, okay? Just need to get cleaned up."

He groaned as you got out of bed and you turned to him, saying, "You're welcome to join me if you'd like."

"I thought you said you wanted to get cleaned up?" He asked, sitting up with a playful smirk on his face.

Acting surprised you said, "Well, I didn't think you could go again, old man..."

He narrowed his eyes at you as he bit his lip. "Oh, you really need to be taught a lesson," he said, lifting you up as he carried you into the bathroom.

#lionel shabandar #lionel shabandar x reader #lionel shabandar x reader smut #gambit #alan rickman #alan rickman x reader #its illegal that there is no lionel shabandar x reader tag yet #especially considering the sex appeal the man has #did i add the red blazer because he looks fine #yes #smut #rickman #rickmaniac #rickmandowneyjr

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littlemisslipbalm · 4 years ago

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“Harry’s stylist, right?”

Summary: Harry and his personal stylist are great collaborators, on screen and off. She helps his visions come to life and in turn they’ve become close friends. As she helps him to bring his fashion dreams come to life during the Fine Line era, will some other dreams come to life as well?

Harry and his stylist go from colleagues to friends to lovers because they’ve been in love with each other from the jump

this fit is very important to this part lmaooo - I literally have no idea what to call this lol, anyway I've been sitting on this for forever and I wanted to get something out for yall and i love this story there will be a part 2 when i get to a writing mood. I love this story bc its my literal dream - anyway!! pls enjoy and reblog and lmk what you think :)

Word Count: 14k | Warnings: swearing, drinking, tame for now, should be smut eventually - aka slow burn (what else would you expect from me at this point i guess)

part 2

“Hey, H, I just had a question about one of the SNL outfits? Do you have a sec?”

Harry looked up from his phone and raised his brows at his stylist, Y/N.

Y/N had worked with Harry previously. In photoshoots for Another Man magazine and his most recent Gucci campaign. As well as some other random times, such as one-off award show looks and specific appearances. However, this past summer Harry had hired Y/N to work fulltime for him, exclusively. He had told her that he was planning on releasing his second album in the winter and he wanted someone there to help him plan his clothes for music videos, award season, interview appearances, as well as tour outfits.

Y/N stood just inside the doorway of the room, leaning her back against the wall, looking expectantly at him. Her eyes were wide and her lips were pursed. She was dressed simply in a white satin skirt and a matching cropped button-up, they both had cream flowers embroidered on, paired with horsebit slim Gucci mules. Her style was eclectic, but she had definitely noticed an increase of Gucci in her wardrobe since starting her employment with Harry.

Y/N’s passion in life was fashion and clothes and she constantly worried that one of Harry’s outfits wouldn’t deliver as much as she wanted it to. He was quick to tell her not to worry so much though, as long as they both were happy with it, how could anyone else not love it. Plus, he’d always add, it didn’t really matter what anyone else thought. But as more and more events began to crop up, Y/N’s worry over her work grew. She had only been the head stylist for Harry on projects that were still underwraps - except for Lights Up which had been released a couple weeks ago now.

The first project she ever worked on with Harry as his full-time personal stylist was the Lights Up music video. She had never worked so closely with one person for so long on just one project. Harry was insistent in vision and came in the first day filled with ideas, what he imagined for the video's concept and how he wanted to incorporate clothes. She had been happy to make his dreams become reality.

The two of them spent hours at his house for weeks, pouring over every detail of every outfit he planned to wear. They both wanted it to be perfect. And eventually, it all came together, exactly how they had planned. All of the garments for the video took up two entire garment racks. Y/N had made Harry pose in every single outfit for polaroids that she dated and then put into a lookbook she started for him. She had told him she planned to document every outfit she styled for him and Harry had been so excited. The outfits he wore in the video were received with praise when it was finally released, and Harry and Y/N were overjoyed. There was already a party for its release, but they both were especially happy that night. Throughout the evening, Harry and Y/N would gravitate to one another and fall into side conversations about the outfits and what people had been saying. Even if Harry said it didn’t matter, he and Y/N both knew, at the end of the day, they loved when people were happy with their work.

“Sure,” he bounced to his feet, but Y/N made a hand motion telling him that he could stay seated. He settled back down as she crossed over and sat beside him on his couch.

She was at his house in London today planning his next few appearances that were promotion for the upcoming album, Saturday Night Live was next. Harry had been taking a break from their work until she had come in.

It wasn’t unusual for Y/N to be at his house, they had been working together for months now. First, it had been for his outfits in his music videos that were filmed in late summer and early fall, like Lights up, but also a few other ones. Now, it was clothing for promo appearances, interviews, and listening parties. Next, it would be tour outfits, which she had already started planning, but officially, they hadn’t started discussions yet. Harry had helped her to get a flat closer to his house in London just for her to be able to head over and help with the planning or fitting of his outfits more easily. She also was constantly traveling with him to his appearances, making sure outfits were perfect right before whatever show it was or making last minute adjustments in case either of them decided something wasn’t right.

While Harry was a big guy, his waist was far trimmer than a usual man built to his size, this meant she had to take in a lot of his trousers at the waist. As well, with his shirts and coats, she’d have to take them in or out depending on how Harry wanted the fit to be - either perfectly tight or perfectly oversized. He was particular, but she appreciated his drive for fashion and how he cared for his appearance. Before performances, she often had to take things in or out based on any body fluctuation that had occurred since the initial fitting.

She was looking at her sketchpad that held all of her notes on his clothes - which was different from the lookbook of polaroids - including patches of the actual colors and little Harry figures dressed in what he was going to wear. Right now, she had the pad opened to a page titled “SNL Opener - November 16, 2019”.

“So I was thinking with your opening monologue outfit, it might look better to have a different colored blazer? A matching yellow would be great, but if you did more of a toned down - maybe light tan or beige - blazer with gold embellishments, you’d elevate it to look sophisticated and stylish, rather than just stylish. It’d be exactly like the runway look - which I know you sometimes don’t like, but I think it’s what looks best.”

She ran her finger between two swatches of what she thought would be the better blazer color and the one Harry had originally wanted. He wet his lips and gazed at the page as he thought about what she said. Normally, she liked monochrome on him, but she thought the deep blue underneath a completely yellow suit might wash him out on the stage.

“Yeah,” he pointed to the top beige swatch, “I think I do like this better.” He paused and turned his head to Y/N, looking in her eyes before asking, “Is that all?”

“Er...no,” Y/N ran a hand over her unstyled hair, slightly fluffed by her constant musing of it. She often fiddled with it while she worked, better than biting nails she always said when confronted about her tick. After a sigh Y/N continued, “I was just on the phone with Jane from Gucci and she said that for Look 57 they could only send your technical size, for some reason they can’t custom make it. Meaning, I’ll have to tailor the whole thing to you when it arrives. Is that alright? Or do you want to choose something else?”

She flipped to a page that said “SNL WS.” Harry followed her hands and nodded realizing she was talking about the Gucci suit he wanted to wear for Watermelon Sugar. It was a watermelon’s inside red. When he had found out the suit came in that color, he had danced around the dining table for what Y/N had felt like was an hour, humming the tune of Watermelon Sugar excitedly. Finally, she had coaxed him to sit back down and get back to their other work, which was still picking out clothes.

“No, that’s fine,” Harry shook his head and used his thumb to scratch under his lips absentmindedly, “It really needs to be that color.”

She nodded, she knew what his answer was going to be, but she also knew he still liked to make the final decision.

“Alright, we’ll just have to meet for longer when everything arrives, to tailor that one. Then the rest of them should just be making sure the fit is perfect.”

She rose up from her seat and patted Harry’s shoulder, leaving him to his thoughts, as she went back to finish up the calls with Jane and the designers.

He caught her hand in his before she completely walked away, “Thank you, Y/N.” He was so grateful he had hired someone who was as driven as he was and understood his fashion sense and wanted to help enhance what he was thinking, rather than someone trying to control him or just going along with whatever he said. Neither would be productive or helpful, thankfully Y/N loved her job and cared to do things right.

She grinned before exiting, “H, you’re going to be this century’s style icon if it’s the last thing I do.” He laughed as she walked out of the room, leaning back on the couch to continue his lurking on Instagram.

One week later

“I’m here, H! I come bearing Gucci and more!” Y/N said as she shuffled through Harry’s front door, she held a deconstructed rack and a garment bag filled with heavy suits and things. Inside were Harry’s four most important outfits for SNL, some other garments for SNL, and some clothes they had talked about for his upcoming listening sessions later in the month. Y/N needed to check the fit on all of them and begin tailoring the Watermelon Sugar suit. The key Harry had given to Y/N, previously, had let her in, but she assumed he was home. He said he’d be.

When Y/N rounded the corner she found another empty room. Confused, she set down her large items and went to search for Harry. Y/N literally needed him to be here for this part. It was the only real time she actually needed to see him in person - but that was beside the point.

“H?”

She wandered through the different rooms of his home. Normally, Y/N didn’t go into the other rooms, she was always mainly in his lounge area, the dining room, and a little casual office room he had - sometimes the kitchen for water, his bedroom once. Still not finding him, she decided to venture to the furthest door, Harry’s bedroom, she remembered.

Harry groaned at the sound of a knock on his door, he rolled over in his bed. After a few moments of hearing nothing else than his groan, Y/N felt like she had to go in and check on him.

“H, it’s 12:30 and we agreed we’d meet at noon. Are you feeling alright?”

Y/N moved into the room and found a shirtless Harry surrounded by rumpled sheets, clutching at a pillow. He groaned into his pillow again in response. Her legs bent at the edge of the bed and she reached out to smooth some of his chestnut hair out of his face, “What’s wrong?”

He moved his head to allow his eyes to look at her, “‘M so tired, don’t know why. My stomach kind of hurts too…” Y/N looked at him quizzically, before running her hand over his tan forehead once more, this time checking for a fever. “You don’t have a fever. When did you go to sleep? Have you eaten anything today?” With her help, Harry moved into a seated position, head tilted back against the bedpost. He sat silent for a moment before blowing air out of his mouth. “Went to sleep kind of late for me, I guess...Haven’t eaten.”

“Ok, you’re just tired from staying up late, you old man, and you might be a little dehydrated and hungry. Listen, I’ll go make you some food if you get up and prepare yourself for the day. We need to get all your clothes fitted so that I can fix anything before next week.” Y/N was always good at getting Harry back on track when he got distracted - or even out of the station, when he wasn’t in the mood to work on something. She slid from her perch on the bed and walked to almost the edge of the room before Harry called her back.

“Can you pick out my clothes for me?” His soft, tired voice whined. “So hard...and you’ve got the best eye. Pleaseeee,” he pleaded softly.

Rolling her eyes, Y/N sighed and made her way back into his room. Crossing to the door that led to his walk-in closet, she set to work. As silly as he was being, she could never pass up on a chance to pick out an outfit for Harry.

“You’re literally going to be changing the entire time, H, you could have just thrown on sweats,” she called back to him once inside the smaller room. He repeated how she always picked the right thing, even for just around the house. Again, Y/N rolled her eyes at Harry, but she also couldn’t hide the warm smile on her face that was due to his compliment.

She couldn’t believe how dramatic Harry could be sometimes. Right now, he was a lesser form of hungover and he was acting like his life was ending. Y/N had made a note a while ago to never agree to a meeting on the day after any partying. She learned the hard way one particularly terrible Sunday. She had come round his house at a similar time, noon-ish and found Harry dead asleep, backwards in his bed. When she had roused him, his only responses were grumbles and groans. She had to not only pick out his clothes, but also help dress him. Then, after providing water and aspirin, she moved all their work into his bedroom so they could work from there. Harry had proved to be a baby when it came to hangovers. But, she hadn’t realized he could get like this even without being truly hungover.

After settling on his live aid t-shirt, that Y/N was eternally jealous of, located at the front of his drawer and his favorite corduroy trousers, she walked out and threw them in the direction of his toned, but slumped body. “I will not get you boxers, that is most definitely not in my job description, Boss.” Y/N sent a pointed look in his direction, moving to finally leave the room. While he was technically her boss as her employer, their work relationship was extremely collaborative and it never felt like he was in control of her, she just liked to give him shit for being a drama queen.

“Guess I’ll be going commando. How’s that going to work with me changing in front of you a bunch of times?” He teased right back, taking the clothes you had thrown at him and giving them a onceover. His teasing signalled that he was already feeling better.

Y/N shook her head and walked out of the room, “For the love of God, Harry, please put on underwear before you come out and continuously strip in front of me!”

The words he shouted after that were muffled, but they were something along the lines of how the human body is beautiful and shouldn’t be covered up. Unbelievable. As she set to work on making both of them some lunch, she finally heard Harry begin moving around. They had a lot of work to do as it was and whenever Harry was in a mood, whether it be a good mood or a bad mood, they always seemed to have a hard time focusing.

One night, that could be seen as the poster child for Harry and Y/N’s procrastination, was during the planning for the Adore You music video. Harry was in a super good mood that day and he had brought that energy to their meeting at his house. Y/N was supposed to be fitting him for the various outfits, but Harry, in his mania, ordered an overzealous amount of Chinese food. It took her and Harry hours to even make a dent in the food. And while they passed the time with eating, Harry and Y/N got further and further from their tasks, opting for conversations that included more fun topics than work. They had gossipped about some of the other people they worked with, Harry had begged for “the tea” about some of his other staffers and Y/N was happy to oblige. As much as Y/N would hate to admit it, she loved when they got off of work subjects and talked about how their day’s had been and what has been on their nerves lately. It was a nice way to decompress, it was like hanging out with a friend, except it wasn’t, not really.

Harry shuffled into the kitchen wearing what Y/N had picked out for him. Her smile grew knowing that he hadn’t changed what she’d picked. His confidence in her and her abilities never failed to feel like the biggest compliment.

“Go sit at the dining table, I’ve made us some little sandwiches and then we can decide the order we want to go through the outfits in.”

Before following Y/N’s orders, Harry continued his shuffling around, first to the cabinet for a glass, then to the fridge for water. At the end of the table, she set the plates between the head of the table’s spot and the one to its left. Harry took the side spot, so Y/N was on the end. After a bite of his food, Harry moaned loudly in contentment. This caused an amused look on Y/N’s face, there had been nothing special in his house so she had just made what was possible. This meant that Harry’s satisfaction was a little over the top.

“You’re acting like you haven’t eaten in a week. What did you do last night that got you in such a twist?” Y/N asked as she took a sip of her own glass of water. Harry nibbled at his lower lip after swallowing, trying to understand why he was particularly tired today.

“I guess I forgot to eat properly yesterday and then I went out running. And I stayed up late on the phone with,” he paused, eyes flashing to Y/N and then away again, “someone for SNL.”

Y/N hummed at his words before going back to her own eating. She didn’t understand why he hesitated about telling her he’d been on the phone last night, it especially irked her that he wouldn’t even say with whom. Professionally, it wasn’t really her business, but Harry was never secretive with her. Plus, it seemed to be work related so why was he being so flighty about it.

Moving forward, Harry peppier from eating and simply moving around, the pair set to work. They decided on trying on everything else first and then saving the Watermelon Sugar suit to the end. The other three main pieces for the night fit perfectly, Y/N had to only do minor reworks of certain areas.

“H, I need you to hold still…” Y/N interrupted Harry’s ramblings as she was crouched beside him.

She had to take up the hem on the pant legs so right now she was trying to pin them in the place she and Harry had agreed upon, without messing with the pleats.

“Sorry,” He mumbled, straightening out his back to stand taller.

He stayed quiet for a bit until Y/N popped back up, she looked at her notebook for reference on what she still had to tailor.

“Okay, next, the pants crotch is looking pretty fitted, so I assume you want it taken down a bit,” Y/N said as she got back into her crouching position. “Look in the mirror and tell me where you think letting it out looks best, I don’t have the best vantage point when I’m up this close…” she trailed off, placing her measuring tape directly on top of Harry’s crotch and running it down his leg a ways.

Once done with her first attempt at where she thought was best to let the pants out, she turned her eyes to the mirror that showed Harry in his suit with Y/N on her knees before him. Harry cleared his throat as he looked in the mirror, seeing Y/N with her eyes wide in anticipation in the position she was in made him want to run and hide. Her hands were extremely close to his dick, but it was literally her job, he knew he had to shake the thoughts that were running through his mind.

“Maybe just a bit further up actually, as much as I like the high waist with dropped crotch, I want this suit to have that specifically tailored look,” his hands motioned for Y/N to bring the drop up a ways.

Her hands then brought the measuring tape up, once again grazing over his area. Again, Y/N looked at Harry through the mirror for approval, and this time he gave it and she placed a single pin in the place where the pants would be let out to.

Standing up, Y/N hoped Harry didn’t notice the blush gracing her face. She was a stylist and used to being around naked bodies as well as touching around a man’s crotch when working. But Harry in this suit must have been magic, because she had felt extremely vulnerable on her knees in front of him in it. She had felt flushed the minute he hadn’t liked what she had done initially and she hated that she felt that way for some reason. Beginning to work on the sleeves of the suit set her at ease, Y/N was thankful to no longer be kneeling or in such close proximity to what was under Harry’s pants.

“Anything on your mind of late?” Harry broke the silence.

Y/N hummed with a pin stuck between her lips, folding up the suit jacket’s right sleeve. Plucking it from her mouth after a few silent moments, she said, “Not really, haven’t had time to do much else lately. Always thinking about you,” Y/N flushed as she realized what she had just said. “I mean, thinking about you like about your clothes and when they’re going to arrive and what I need to do about them, not you personally, sorry that came out wrong,” her blush intensified as she rapidly fumbled through her last sentence.

“Ow!”

“Oh my god!”

While Y/N had gotten flustered with her words, she managed to stick the pin she was using straight into Harry’s flesh. She immediately removed the pin from where it had stuck him.

“Oh god, I’m so sorry, H, we’ve got to get this off. I need to make sure you’re not bleeding onto the suit.”

Y/N rushed around to Harry's backside and began slipping off his suit jacket as Harry chuckled and began to unbutton the shirt as carefully as possible.

“‘S alright, Y/N, if there’s any blood on the shirt it’ll blend in, blood is practically the same color.” She glared at him through the mirror and Harry continued to laugh, “That is not funny, H, I shouldn’t have stuck you in the first place.”

“No, no,” Harry hushed Y/N as she began to slip off his shirt from one side to the other, taking off the sleeve on the side she hadn’t poked, “you’ve got so much on your plate with all the planning for the upcoming events. Then you worked yourself up over a little slip.” As Y/N carefully unbuttoned the cuff of the sleeve to try and slip off the shirt with the least amount of blood on it as possible, Harry finished with, “I wouldn’t mind if you were just thinking about me, though, an’ not the clothes.”

This time, Y/N was very in control, not willing to let herself slip up a second time today. She didn’t know how to respond to what Harry had just admitted. It wasn’t like this hasn't happened before. Both of them were guilty of making little comments that made it sound like they were interested in each other in a way that was a little different than professional or friendly. But every time the other person always had the responsibility to shut the idea down or completely blow past what their counter had just said.

“Harry…” She began, it was soft and pleading, like she was saying she couldn’t entertain that idea. Examining his forearm, after pulling the shirt completely away and resting it on a nearby chair, she saw a little spot of blood protruding from the pin prick she had caused. “Where do you keep your bandages?” Y/N decided that it was best to brush past Harry’s words this time and went off to find his first aid kit. Harry stood there, shirtless, staring at the blood on his arm. It really wasn’t a lot and it wouldn’t have done anything to the suit, but Y/N was always so careful and never wanted to ruin any of Harry’s clothes.

On her return, Y/N came upon a shirtless Harry perched on the edge of the table, with one arm crossed and his other - that was bleeding - being held slightly away from his body, as if Harry was afraid to touch it. His posture was slumped so Y/N could see his spine curving beneath his tanned honey-soft skin and his shoulder blades slightly flexed. While most of Harry’s body was covered in tattoos, she noticed how the closest tattoo to his back was the small line drawing of a guitar on the back of his left shoulder. Other than that his smooth back was bare. Y/N found it interesting that Harry had never chosen to ink his back. She jogged lightly back into the room and Harry’s head turned to watch her approach. His bottom lip was caught between his teeth as he regarded her. She noticed he was being particularly quiet, but she had no idea why. Maybe he was still tired.

Y/N set to work on finding the correct tissue, neosporin, and bandage for Harry’s small wound. As she worked on fixing up her mistake, Harry’s eyes followed her movements. Green eyes flickering between her hands on his arm and her own eyes focusing on her task.

“After this, I actually can just head home and finish the rest of the work,” Y/N said as she unpackaged the bandage, “I already know where I need to take in the suit sleeves and the shirt’s sleeves were looking fine. So, I can get out of your hair and you can get to sleep early tonight.” She placed the nude toned bandage over Harry’s arm, she was a little sad to find he didn’t own fun bandages. That was something that she expected from Harry, but she resigned that maybe she didn’t know everything about Harry.

Before Harry could speak, Y/N continued, “Don’t rehearsals for the show start tomorrow? When are you flying to New York?” She ran her hand over the bandage, smoothing it in place. Her hand lingered there as her eyes looked up and met Harry’s. Harry twitched his arm away from Y/N’s touch and scratched his nose slightly.

“Yeah, I’m flying out tomorrow morning. When are you set to fly out?”

“Friday. I’ll get in before the final dress rehearsal and then I’ll be there for the show.” Y/N stepped back and began to rehang the suit jacket and shirt that they had discarded in her haste to not get blood on them.

Then Y/N stood there staring at Harry. He looked at her slightly confused by her doing nothing when she said she was leaving. “Pants, H.” She said finally when she realized he had forgotten he was still wearing the suit pants. “Oh! Sorry,” Harry exclaimed as he began to unbutton and remove the pants he was wearing. He handed her the pants and she exchanged them with his live-aid t shirt. He took it graciously before slipping it on and disguising his toned body beneath it. Then he took his pants from earlier and fully redressed himself.

“Damn!” Y/N said and Harry’s head flipped to watch her as she began to put all of the clothing back in their garment bags and take down the rack.

“What’s wrong?”

“I just pinched myself with the rack, I’m all left feet today.”

“Here,” Harry chuckled as he walked over to help Y/N, “let me help you with all this. Just in the boot of your car, yeah?” Y/N nodded and smiled in appreciation for Harry. He grabbed her keys laying on the table and then took the rack and a garment bag. Even if things sometimes got tense between them, for whatever reason, he was always quick to move past it and be thoughtful and kind in the best ways for Y/N. After shaking her hand out, she grabbed the last garment bags and followed Harry out to her car. Harry shut the back of her car softly and turned to face Y/N, she stood beside her car door, ever so slightly leaning against it. He walked to her side and smiled.

“I’ll see you in a week,” he said before wrapping his arms around Y/N’s much smaller frame. His body was radiating heat and it felt good against Y/N in the crisp night air of London. She pressed into his hold and wrapped her arms around his waist and squeezed him hard. “Less than...Can’t wait to see you make an absolute fool of yourself out there.” Harry protested her tease with a small, “Hey!” but mostly focused on his hands on her back and the way her hair felt especially soft under his chin. Finally, Y/N pulled away, “Kidding! You’ll be amazing and you’ll look killer while doing it.” She winked before opening her car door and driving off. Harry was left with the lingering scent of her perfume and shampoo mingling in his nose.

It was the Saturday night, November 16th, 2019.

Harry and Y/N were in his dressing room before the show started. His outfits for the night were lined up, except for his opener one that Y/N had just dressed him in. His first change would be for Light’s Up, then a couple skit outfits that had to be moved elsewhere for quick changes, then the Watermelon Sugar suit, and then finally his end of the show casual look. The opener looked incredible, it’s fit was impeccable and Y/N knew people were going to love it.

She stepped back from Harry to give his whole body a once over, the SNL hairstylist had just blown out his hair and given him a sort of middle part. It definitely looked good and paired with the suit - Y/N could already tell it was going to be a hit by all accounts. Harry grinned back at her, doing a little dance to show just how much he was loving his clothes and how excited he was.

Grabbing the lint roller, Y/N gave the lapels of his suit jacket a once over and then moved it slightly out of the way to roll the big collar of Harry’s shirt and the bits of the body of the shirt that were showing underneath the jacket. Basically, Y/N was lint rolling over Harry’s clothed abs. Apparently, that was a ticklish area for Harry because he began to squirm and giggle under the tool’s touch.

“Seriously, H?”

She smiled as she said it, so excited for Harry that she couldn’t be mad at his relestness.

“Can’t help it. ‘M so giddy. Plus, I’m a wee bit ticklish.”

Y/N gave him a single laugh before removing the lint roller and smoothing over the shirt against his stomach and then over the lapels when she put the jacket back in place. She adjusted the Gucci reader’s she was wearing today, that were more for decoration than anything, but she liked to pretend they made her see better.

“You look smashing, Mr. Styles. Absolutely gorgeous, if I do say so myself.”

“Are you talking to me or the suit?” Harry asked as he flipped to look in the full length mirror in the dressing room.

“Can’t it be both?”

“Sure,” Harry said, he noticed the clock and realized it was his time to get in places. He leaned down and placed a small kiss on Y/N’s cheek, “It’s my time, thank you, Y/N.” She blushed at his words and actions. As he walked out the door, she called after him, “Break a leg, H!” He sent a final air kiss in her direction before completely disappearing.

She looked at the clothes hanging on the rack in the room and palmed over the fabric. Checking the lapels and brushing the lint roller over the, she finally stepped back and was happy with how they looked. When the show was just about to start, she flitted to the part of backstage where she could watch Harry perform. She giggled along to his monologue and grinned whole-heartedly when the crowd would roar with approval. Y/N had heard all of the jokes already because of the dress rehearsal yesterday, but it didn’t matter. Harry was killing it. She also took time to appreciate how good Harry looked in his suit on stage. In front of the lights and all the people, his suit shined brightly with the pops of blue and yellow and the oversized grey-iege jacket. His soft chestnut hair billowed perfectly to frame his forehead as he sipped from the faux martini. Y/N bit her lip to stifle her laugh. The fact that Harry, her boss and friend, was up on the Saturday Night Live stage with pink and blue nails sipping from a faux martini, it was perfect.

When Harry came back for his first performance change Y/N was right there waiting for him.

“Hi, that was really good,” she smiled up at him as he began to take off his coat.

He smiled brightly back at her as he exhaled a hefty breath, “You think so?”

“Yes! C’mon, everyone loved it. You delivered it all perfectly…” she took over undoing the buttons on the shirt because Harry was moving too slowly. “I’m in a man band now…” Y/N mumbled under her breath before chuckling.

“Did you just imitate my accent?” Harry said, now pulling off his sleeves.

Y/N moved around his back to take the shirt to hang and grab his Lights Up outfit. They worked like a well-oiled machine together, constantly taking over roles to get things done more efficiently, but never stepping on each other’s toes.

“Nope,” she winked before handing him the black sequin jumpsuit and exchanging it for his yellow pants. After rehanging the pants and bringing over Harry’s different set of boots, Y/N said, “Y’know, I’d have to say that your hair is giving your suit a run for its money.” She placed the shoes on the table beside Harry and began to fix into the place different parts of the jumpsuit, moving to zip up the back and then coming to the front to smooth it.

“What do you mean?” Harry looked in the mirror and delicately touched the edges of his hair, considering Y/N’s statement.

“No one ever really sees it how it is, nicely blown out but not too much product so it falls to frame your face. What’d you tell the hair person you wanted?” Y/N stepped back to allow Harry to change his boots from one Gucci pair to another, like he did with most of his wardrobe.

“Just told them to make me look mature. You think it looks good?” He looked up at Y/N when he asked the question.

“Think it looks sexy, that’s what I’m saying, no one’s gonna be able to focus on your clothes with how good your hair looks.”

“Ah,” he deftly runs his hands down his suit as he looks in the mirror.

Y/N just stares at Harry, checking him over one more time. She wasn’t lying about his hair, it was sexy and she wanted to run her hands through it to feel how soft it was. In a complete friend way of course.

“I like it…”

“It looks like you just rolled out of bed, but the bed was made of angel feathers.”

Harry laughed at Y/N’s description. He shifted his body to face her more and moved closer to her in the process.

“Alright, you should probably get back out there,” Y/N closes the gap between them and adjusts the chain of his jade and silver crosses and brushes over his broad shoulders.

They’re professional touches, but her movements hold an undercurrent of intimacy that neither of them realize. If anyone had been looking on, they would see how Y/N’s fingers delicately caressed Harry’s skin right before she cradled the pendants to move them in place. They would also see Harry instinctively lean forward into her touch and breathe slightly deeper to take in her scent. When she brushes over his shoulders, he straightens up at the touch and shows he’s ready to get back out there. It’s as if she prepared him to go.

Harry sings Lights Up and the crowd loves it. Sarah kills her drumming and Mitch eats up lead guitar. The backup singers bring out a different tone to the song. It is all around an amazing performance.

As Y/N clapped along with the crowd from backstage, Aidy Bryant approaches her.

“You’re Harry’s stylist, right?”

Y/N turns her head at the woman next to her, “Yeah?”

Aidy smiles, eyes slightly gleaming, “Well, you’re wonderful at your job.” As Y/N is about to thank her, Aidy continues, “And Harry knows that too, he talked about you all week. We all thought you were his girlfriend at first.”

Y/N laughed lightly and had to keep herself from letting her jaw drop at Aidy’s words. She even choked a bit on her own spit and had to cough slightly before even being able to think of a response, “Well, um, yeah...no, H, Harry is just my employer and...friend. No dating, we just get along well. Which is important since we spend a lot of time together - for work of course!”

Aidy smiled sweetly at Y/N, “Yeah, Harry explained that when Beck asked him how long you’d been together. At first he had said a couple months and then said ‘wait, Y/N is just my stylist, we’ve been working together for a couple months’ and then we all felt really dumb.”

“Don’t feel dumb,” Y/N reassured her, unsure why she was actually continuing this conversation, “He loves to talk about clothes and that’s where I fit in to his life, so I’m sure my name would come up a fair bit. Was that it?”

“Yeah I guess, but-” Aidy began to say more, but Y/N cut her off.

“Oh gosh, I’m sorry, but Harry’s finished and I’ve got to go help him change for his next song.”

Aidy was left in Y/N’s wake, chuckling to herself, fully reassured about the reason that they had all thought Harry had been dating Y/N. Because they already acted like a couple. And they were both helplessly in love with one another and neither of them knew.

The rest of the show went off without a hitch. Harry continued to wow the crowd and Y/N sent him off from his dressing room always looking fabulous. Just as he was about to walk back on stage for his final farewell, Y/N noticed a tiny string on his trousers zipper. Unable to stop Harry and unable to grab at the string without looking odd, she had to let him walk on stage with it. It wasn’t actually a big deal, but Y/N sighed in annoyance because she knew that string was going to bug her for the rest of the night.

“Treat People With Kindness!” Harry finishes off his farewell.

Applause begins to sound and the cast is out front hugging and chatting, while Y/N is watching from the side still fixated on the string on Harry’s pants, now simply dangling. Finally, they begin to clear the stage because it’s time for the after party. Y/N knew there was no stealing Harry away to fix the problem that was now fixated in her mind. Every cast and crew member was trying to talk to him, congratulating him, hugging him, anything to spend time with the incredible man. Y/N couldn’t blame them, but she also wanted to be able to go some place quiet and debrief with Harry about his outfits. She wanted to look up what people were saying about his clothes and discuss the critiques with Harry. She also wanted to start discussing what was coming next with Harry. But most of all, she just wanted to hang out with Harry.

What Y/N wanted wasn’t going to happen anytime soon, which she knew, but it still only grew her annoyance with that string. If only she could get it off of him, maybe then her mind would be able to relax a little.

She meandered backstage, resigned she wouldn’t be talking to Harry for a while. There she went to find the band’s dressing room, knowing she would find Mitch or Sarah who she’d be happy to talk to. They weren’t ones for the spotlight and no one ever really seemed to want to brownnose with them at events like this. Y/N had met them a few times.

The first was when Harry had asked Y/N to meet him in the studio in mid July, Mitch and Sarah had both been there helping Harry finish up something for the album. Y/N never asked what, she liked music quite a bit, but when it came to the technical part of it, it went completely over her head. Harry had introduced them both and they seemed lovely. After that, she had seen them around for an event or two of Harry’s. It wasn’t much, but it was more than any of the other people around right now.

Just as she was about to knock on the door it swung open, revealing Harry’s entire backing band. “Hey,” Y/N said sheepishly, “Harry’s being fawned over by the masses and I don’t actually know anyone else here. Is it alright if I hang out with you all at this after party? I doubt there’s going to be anyone really dying to meet the stylist.”

She smoothed her own clothes as she spoke. Y/N wanted to look professional tonight because sometimes when she was dressed in more fun or “young” clothes she got mistaken for someone who had snuck in. The only thing that got people to not question her authority to be where she was, was a card that read ‘staff’ that she would clip onto whatever she was wearing at places like this. Tonight, she chose a pair of purple plaid pants, a sleek lilac tank underneath a cream knit shawl, and cream Gucci mules. Ever since Harry took an interest in Y/N’s pearl necklace, she had largely stopped wearing hers because she hoped never to be photographed matching with him. However, she had known the pearls would have completed the look, even putting them on in her hotel room, twisting a pearl in her hand as she looked in the mirror, and then taking the necklace off again and settling on a different silver necklace instead. The ‘staff’ card was clipped to her pants pocket tonight.

“Of course!” Sarah said as the band began to file out of the room, “You might want to take your tag off now, though, you’re done working for the night.”

Her laughter rang sweetly through Y/N’s ears and she smiled back before removing her identifying card. She hated the piece of plastic and was glad to take it off, it never went with her outfits, but she had gotten tired of taking out her business card every time someone asked what she was doing. Y/N was sure that during the tour she’d be fine without it, but as Harry’s show appearances were beginning to ramp up she knew it would be helpful to have.

“Thanks...you all were amazing out there tonight. Second time on the SNL stage right?”

The group of you began to walk in the direction of where the after party was being held. Mitch piped up, “Thanks. Yeah, I love their box stage setup, it’s pretty cool.” Y/N was happy that she had people who were easy to talk to so that she wouldn’t be alone tonight.

Arriving in the room of the party, they were all quick to grab the alcohol that was being provided at the pop up bar. Y/N wasn’t normally a fan of drinking at events like these, mainly because she was not usually invited to this part of the night and when she was she wanted to be alert. But she figured there wasn’t much else to do so she took a hearty sip of the champagne. It was a little sweet, her face scrunched.

“Too sweet?” Mitch questioned when he saw Y/N’s face.

“Just a little for my taste.”

“Harry’s not going to be drinking tonight then. So particular about his alcohol,” Mitch continued.

Y/N laughed, “Well I’m glad, then I don’t have to deal with him being a baby about his hangover tomorrow.”

Mitch quirked an eyebrow at Y/N’s statement. Sarah and the others in the band had dispersed to mingle with the SNL party goers, leaving Mitch and Y/N to their conversation.

Realizing what she said could be seen as slightly weird out of context, Y/N quickly started again, “because I’m supposed to go shopping with Harry tomorrow. He wanted to go to Gucci and a couple other stores here before flying to LA. I’m going back to London until the listening parties, so we need to figure out the finishing touches for those and..” Y/N trailed off trying to remember which looks weren’t completed yet for the next few shows, Mitch waited patiently, “a few of the suits for the Late Late Show. He’s not happy with one of them so we might switch it. But anyway, you know how he is with a hangover. Proper child.”

Mitch threw his head back in laughter at Y/N’s serious look that she gave him. “Yeah, he can be...a lot. I meant to tell you, Harry looked great tonight. All of the clothes were fantastic,” Mitch added.

He was kind and Y/N appreciated him sticking with her. The two of them had rested themselves against a wall near the bar, sipping their champagne and enjoying each other’s company.

“Thank you.”

Mitch opened his mouth to say something else, but Heidi Gardener, another SNL member interrupted.

“Y/N, right!?”

Y/N and Mitch both turn to her, equally taken aback by the sudden burst of energy from this person they didn’t really know. Y/N nodded.

“Oh my gosh! You have to tell me where you got the jacket Harry is wearing!”

Heidi even goes as far to point in Harry’s direction. Y/N knows what she’s talking about, but her eyes still wander to where she pointed. Harry stood in a clump of people, surrounded by Ben Winston, James Corden, and the Gerbers who had all come to watch. She sighed as she watched his eyes shine as he laughed with a smile on his face. She hoped that by now the string had fallen off his pants by now, if not she was going to kick herself later.

“Oh, it’s Bode,” Y/N’s eyes coming back to meet Heidi’s happy face, “but it’s custom made from a vintage blanket. There’s only two that exist.”

Y/N and Mitch watched as Heidi’s face dropped.

“And I’m pretty sure the designer owns the other one,” Y/N added, “Sorry.”

Heidi smiles and jokes, “Know any ways I could possibly get Harry to give me his?”

“He loves that coat. I have no idea what you could possibly do to convince him he didn’t need it anymore.”

“Sex, probably,” Mitch says under his breath.

Heidi doesn’t catch it as she walks back off and Y/N turns to swat him with her free hand.

“What? He always gives away his clothes to girl’s he has crushes on.” Y/N rolls her eyes at Mitch’s words.

“Probably best if you don’t inform the masses about that,” a new voice says.

Unbeknownst to Mitch and Y/N, Harry had broken away from his entourage to steal a few minutes with his two friends, his best friends if he was being honest. They laugh together as he wraps his arms around their shoulders and pulls them both into his chest. Y/N feels the warmth radiating from Harry’s body as she snuggles into his side. Her hand wraps under his jacket and around his waist to squeeze right about his hip bone. His face is gleaming with a small sheen of sweat, but his smile is so big she barely notices his perspiration as he looks down at her.

“Heard you were talkin’ shit?”

Mitch quips, “Us? Never.”

Harry scoffs, “Come off it!”

When he releases Y/N and Mitch from his grasp, Mitch straightens up while Y/N’s eyes immediately go down to Harry’s crotch. She’s not paying attention to their conversation as she tries to make out in the dim light whether the string is gone or not. The men realize she’s not listening and they both follow her gaze.

Confused, Harry asks, “Y/N, any particular reason you’re staring at my dick?”

Her head shoots up, eyes wide and cheeks flushed from embarrassment.

“I wasn’t!”

Mitch laughs and decides he wants another glass of champagne right then, mumbling something about how that was his cue. Harry smiles, knowing she wasn’t doing what he had said, but still intrigued to know what was going on in her mind.

“You had a string right on your zipper and it’s been bugging me since you went out for your outro. This is the first time I’ve seen you on your own and I couldn't exactly go up to you in a random crowd and grab at your crotch. But now I can’t see in this light…” Y/N bit at her lower lip and furrowed her brow still trying to see if the string was there.

“Have you really been thinking about it this whole time?” Harry asked, slightly concerned.

“Yes...I know it doesn’t matter, but I just want your clothes to look perfect.”

Harry takes a deep breath as he makes a small smile at Y/N. Then he brushes over the front of his pants, hoping he removes the string if it's still attached to him. “There, I’m sure it’s gone now. I’m sorry you had to worry about that. Just know everyone I’ve talked to has been raving about the clothes.” He placed his ring-clad hand on Y/N’s upper arm and squeezed it.

“You did an amazing job,” Y/N said.

Harry pulls her into his chest one more time. This time without Mitch so both of Harry’s arms go around her shoulders and both of hers go around his slender waist. Again her hands disappear under his coat and thumb over his warm white t-shirt, her face resting on his chest right next to the word ‘Sex’. His arms tighten around her back as they rest there for a while. Y/N always has to make herself pull away, knowing that Harry will stay there for as long as he can - in anyone’s embrace - and remembering they’re in a public setting, she didn’t want anyone to assume things, even if she had already been made aware that people had.

“We’ll debrief more later tonight, yeah? The champagne is terrible so I won’t be drinking,” Harry said.

Y/N laughed under her breath as she smiled at his words. Mitch and her knew Harry too well. She nodded about getting together later, “Alright. Get back to your fan club.” Harry narrowed her eyes at her words, not sure if she was trying to sound sarcastic or not.

Hey, I’m back at the hotel. Just let me know when you want to debrief :) x

Y/N texted Harry the minute she got back to the hotel, she had no idea if he had left before her or was still at the after party. All she knew was that it was late and she was starting to get tired. Still, it was important for them to talk about their plans for tomorrow and she also really wanted to just be with him alone. Whenever they would debrief after big events Harry and Y/N would laugh at all the outrageous stuff they had seen go on throughout the night.

When she was still a freelance stylist she had helped Harry to plan his Camp outfit at the Met Gala. That night, they never even went to bed and had to debrief about the clothes the next afternoon over tea at the Palace. Both her and Harry were recovering from their exhaustion and nursing equally terrible hangovers. But there they were, sitting in the center of the dining area of the hotel, being served some of the nicest tea and sandwiches Y/N had ever had. It was amazing. Y/N had never felt that rich in her life before and Harry had told her the craziest stories about the most famous people in attendance. It was almost unbelievable what these people would reveal to Harry and Y/N was happy to listen to all of it, promising to never tell anyone else. That outing was probably the first time Harry realized he really liked Y/N and wanted to work more closely with her.

While tonight wasn’t quite as wild as the Met Gala had been, Y/N was still excited to hear any funny stories Harry might have in addition to their clothing talk. They really hadn’t had much time to chat since she had gotten to New York yesterday so it would be nice to just be alone together. Even if Y/N chalked their debriefs up to ‘shop talk’, she was always very excited for them.

As she reached her hotel room door, her phone buzzed with a message from Harry.

I’m still out, but should be heading back soon. Up to you if you want to wait up or we can just debrief in the morning while we shop. x H

Y/N sighed at the message, she wanted to wait up and debrief before tomorrow, if not for alone time with Harry but professionally for being able to plan out their shopping tomorrow. Where Harry was carefree, Y/N was meticulous and planned out. She liked to have fun, but she knew when she had to get her work done, even when Harry was off in his own mind. Their work styles mostly coincided, Harry could be serious and focused, too, but often when he was surrounded by all his famous friends he had a hard time saying ‘no’ to whatever came up. So Y/N knew that Harry’s definition of ‘soon’ could range from actually soon to almost dawn. She really hoped he actually meant soon, so she shot him a text saying:

Just knock on my room and if I open it we can debrief lol x

Harry smiled down at his phone when Y/N’s text came through, slightly chuckling before double tapping and placing a heart reaction of her text. Then he was pulled into the limo that one of his friend’s had gotten them and was handed a flute of champagne.

Back at the hotel, Y/N threw her phone on the bed and decided to change and simply settle in for the night. If Harry made it back, he made it back and if he didn’t she’d wake up well rested.

Maybe thirty minutes into scrolling on her phone, Y/N heard a rough knock on her door. She was actually quite surprised that Harry had indeed been back soon. Rising from her snuggled place in the bed, she shifted around her night clothes and padded to her door. There stood, rather hung, a slightly disheveled Harry. His hair was whipped into disaster, something was smudged on his face, and she noticed a stain on his t-shirt that hadn’t been there the last time she’d been with him.

He slurred her name as he stumbled through the doorway. Y/N closed her eyes and sighed in exasperation. She was in awe that somehow Harry hadn’t gotten off his ass in the past hour and a half.

“What happened to not drinking tonight?”

She walked beside him and helped shove him into a sitting position on her bed. He flapped his arms, chaotically trying to get his plaid jacket off. Throwing her phone in the direction of her pillow, she moved to help Harry with his jacket. After quite a bit of strugglings, Y/N finally got the Bode jacket off of him successfully and threw it onto the nearby chair. Sighing, she settled beside him.

“So, Harry, care to explain?”

“Hi, Y/N…” He swayed slightly, attempting to face Y/N more. She threw out a hand to his shoulder, gripping him tightly to try and steady him.

“We went in this limousine, and they had champagne - good champagne - and I drank a bottle or so pretty quickly.”

“Or so? Oh Harry...I mean you’re free to make your own choices, but I don’t know if this was one of your best.”

“Wasn’t...wasn’t my idea. I was planning on just going back to the hotel. Then James convinced me to come out for a bit. Then the champagne was looking good so I went for it.”

“Like I said, you can make your own choices,” she patted his arm and went to the en suite bathroom to wet a washcloth to clean off his face.

“So, is it champagne on your shirt or am I going to have to go through hell to get the stain out?” She called.

Harry groaned and leaned back on the bed, fingering at the crisp white sheets. “Champagne,” he finally muttered as Y/N reappeared into the dim room, only the outside world and the light in the bathroom lighting this area.

“And on the face?”

She climbed onto the bed and kneeled beside Harry’s prone body, beginning to swipe at the smudge on his face. He tilted his head to face her, bringing the cheek with the dirt to lay facing perfectly up. His jawline showed perfectly and she felt the strength that laid beneath the skin she was washing.

His eyes flitted up to her face, trying to stop the spins he was currently experiencing. He hadn’t thought he was that drunk until he had been required to find his way up to their floor on his own.

“Lipstick?”

She sighed, running the washcloth over his cheek once more, and tried to push the image of some woman (or man who wore lipstick, she guessed) with her lips all over Harry’s face. She didn’t want to know who it was or why it was. It was too hard, especially after the day of people asking her about Harry and her relationship and insinuating things about him and his romantic life. She just liked to keep the words Harry and romance apart as much as possible, it made her life easier that way.

“It was only from-”

“It’s ok, Harry, I don’t need to know who you were…” She stopped herself, not even wanting to say ‘kissing’ or ‘snogging’ or even worse ‘shagging’. Adults were human beings and they could do a lot in an hour and a half. And again, she didn’t want to know.

“You keep doing that. Are you mad at me?”

“I’m sorry?”

“Calling me Harry, not ‘H’. Is it because you’re mad at me?”

“No,” she sighed, shifting to sit more casually, “No, I’m not mad at you. I just wasn’t expecting you to show up at my door like this. I try not to worry about you, but then when you show up like this, it kind of affirms I had reason to be concerned.”

She took a hand and smoothed over Harry’s tousled hair, he rolled his head back to face the ceiling. “Like I said, you’re an adult, capable of making his own decisions. And, I am just your stylist. I’m just glad you made it up here and knocked on my door. Probably would have given someone else a fright.”

He laughed, starting to sober up as the spinning in the room stopped. Her hands on his face and hair were soothing and sobering.

“Thank you for caring about me, love. And going beyond being just my stylist, you’re my friend Y/N.”

His eyes flickered shut and Y/N stared at his soothed features. His words were still slurred and she was sure the use of love was just his britishness slipping through his drunken state. The part about being more than a stylist, she tried to push it away, telling herself not to read more into it than her heart would like to. Even though he said she was a friend as well as a stylist and not anything more, it still sent so much joy through her body. He didn’t just see her as a work colleague and he had said it. But in his inebriated state, Y/N didn’t want to take everything he said as gospel.

She moved him up the bed with a little bit of his sleepy self’s help into a more comfortable position. It was pretty late now and she wasn’t going to kick him out. It would have been rude and unkind and that were two things Y/N rarely was. She went and grabbed the extra blanket from the cabinet and draped it over Harry’s large body for extra warmth since he refused to get under the covers. She also slipped off his boots and stained shirt per his request before getting into the other side of the bed and falling asleep.

She awoke to a shifting body beside her and she sat up confused as to who it could be. Quickly, Harry showing up drunk at her door came flooding back and she turned to look at the groaning Harry beside her. His arm was thrown over his face as he moaned, just waking up as well and experiencing the first bits of his hangover. This was going to be a long day.

“Hullo,” his voice was especially low, groggy and hoarse from the night before. He peaked over at her from behind the crook of his elbow. His eyelids barely open and his eyelashes weighing them down so much so that she could barely see his sleepy jade eyes.

“Good morning, H. Have a nice rest?” Y/N sat up and began to ready herself for the day, rummaging through her suitcase for an outfit and moving about the room.

Harry’s arms went to his sides as he worked to sit up, eyes following her figure as she moved around, seemingly not groggy very much unlike him. “Erm...I’m sorry for showing up pissed.”

“S’fine, H. Just glad you didn’t end up in a ditch or someone’s bed - someone’s that you might regret…” She barely regards him, throwing a single glance his way before shuffling to the bathroom to change. She knows they’ll be photographed today, it’s almost inevitable right now. Everyone knows Harry is in New York and people are buzzing to see him after his performance last night. She slips on the 70s inspired dress, the v-neck and long sleeves settling perfectly on her frame, it hugs her curves and lands around mid-thigh. Rolling on the bold mustard yellow tights and strapping up the brown leather mary jane heels, she looks herself over in the mirror. She then tries to tame her hair and do the rest of her routine, knowing she needed to get on with the day, shopping first and flying home second. Making sure Harry was okay was also on that list, but she couldn’t pretend like she wasn’t a little disappointed in him after last night.

When she returns, Harry is sitting with his legs hanging off the edge of the bed, head hanging as he’s hunched over himself. “C’mon, you gotta get going, kid. Lots to do today.” She’s pacing over to Harry’s deflated figure to pick him up and prompt him to get moving. When she arrives by his side his head lifts and his now more awake eyes stare up at her.

“I’m sorry for yesterday, really. I mean it.”

“I told you already. It’s fine.”

“It’s not - or it wasn’t. You called me ‘Harry’ last night. I don’t think I’ve heard you call me that to my face since we started working together. I took your answer last night because I was swimming in it, but now, thinking about it. I know you were upset.”

She huffs, taking a seat beside Harry on the bed, choosing to not look at him, slightly confused why she had been so upset and why he was pushing it. “Ok, yeah I was annoyed, but I was also genuinely worried. I didn’t know you could physically get that drunk in that small amount of time. And then you show up at my door with somebody else’s…” Y/N falters, catching her slip up and deciding to fix her gaze on her shoes and their intricate design built into the leather.

“You’re upset that I had lipstick on me?” He’s trying to meet Y/N’s gaze, but her eyes are really interested in her shoes. His tone is confused, he’s trying to understand what’s going on in her mind.

She scoffs, risking a glance to Harry but then returns quickly back to her dress this time. “Please...it was just inconvenient for me, okay? Thought we were going to debrief and stayed up late for you. Then I had to take care of you after you hung out with your famous pals and I had barely even seen you all day. Felt a bit used.”

Harry shifted in the bed, turning to face her by tucking one leg beneath him. He places a hand on hers that was placed on the end of her dress. Her eyes finally meet with his and she feels her breath slightly catch in her throat. His eyes are piercing, his gaze intense, maybe even a tinge of anger. “Y/N, I would never have come to your room if I even had an inkling that this would be how you’d interpret it . Even though I was drunk, I wanted to see you, that’s why I came up here, because I wanted to be with my friend, one of my best friends, not because I just needed some pushover to care for me.”

She sighs, feeling icky still about the whole situation. She sometimes found herself in fights that she never intended, she wished she hadn’t said anything at all. But she also knew that wasn’t healthy either. Flipping her hand, she intertwines her fingers with Harry’s and smiles for the first time that morning. His expression softens at it. “Look, I’m sorry too, H. It honestly wasn’t that big of a deal, but I appreciate that you’re such a great guy and boss to want to truly apologize and make sure I’m comfortable and happy… Oh, and I promise I’ll never call you anything but H from here on out - unless you tell me otherwise.”

He cackles unabashedly at her words, before suddenly clutching at his temple with his free hand. “Fuckin’ hangover,” he mumbles. She smiles and stands up, beginning to throw his shirt and shoes from the end of the bed at him, “You need to get ready. Go pop some advil or whatever. My flights at 5 so we haven’t got all day, H.”

“There she is,” Harry grins, beginning to put back on the stained ‘Sex’ shirt.

As he hustles out of the room, shoes in hand, she calls to him one last request, “When you’re in fresh clothes make sure you bring me that stained shirt. Gonna have to spot clean it when I’m back in London!”

“Of course! And we’ll debrief as we shop, yeah?”

“Yes!”

The two of them were shouting to each other as the door continued to close on them. Chuckling to herself, she begins to pack up her room, knowing she had to check out before they left. Her spirits already lifted, she doesn’t even notice as she throws Harry’s forgotten Bode jacket into her suitcase with some other items that had been on her chair. She wouldn’t notice it until she was back in London unpacking from the trip.

Shutting the case, she springs back up from her crouched position and walks to look in the full length mirror again. Her fingers run the length of her dress, leafing over the slightly darker brown embroidered flowers that were woven into the tan fabric. She squints as she turns sideways and pops a heel up behind her. It looks good, but something is missing. Rummaging through her carry-on she pulls out her old butterfly bandana she used as a head scarf and begins to fix it into place on her head. Placing large sunglasses on the bridge of her nose, she feels like the look is complete and gives herself some poses in the mirror; a peace sign, an air kiss, a Marilyn Monroe. She laughs at herself.

A knock on the door shakes her from her childish fun. Straightening up, Y/N saunters over to the door, swinging it open with ease. “H?”

“You ready?” Harry stands in a fresh pair of Marni trousers paired with a striped orange and mauve Marni sweater. He, like Y/N, had this thing about wearing the brand you planned to shop at. He didn’t always stick to his rule, but he usually didn’t like to wear Gucci when he shopped at Gucci.

“Yeah, just need to check out and drop my baggage at the front to be held for later.” Y/N slips through the door and notes how his outfit compliments hers. She wouldn’t mention it, but it's something to think about since he had known what she was wearing. She wasn’t sure why she noticed things like that, if asked, her answer would probably be that it was the stylist in her, just her job.

Stepping out of a black town car on the side street next to Gucci to go in the side entrance would never get old for Y/N. She had never really enjoyed the idea of fame, but from a young age she had known she wanted to be able to afford the finer things in life. Going into the Gucci store now, especially with Harry, was like going to the candy store once you’re a grown up and can buy whatever you want rather than what your parents will allow you to.

Today, Harry and Y/N didn’t have as much time as they would usually like to spend in the store, but they were just happy to be doing what they loved. Y/N had been ecstatic to find out Harry found shopping to be an essential part of his life and that he liked to do his outfit shopping in person rather than online. Trying on clothes and picking out things you liked just was so much more fulfilling when you were in the physical store. Then make that all happen with Harry Styles as the buyer, then it was a real party. The stores liked to pull out their Champagne and clear the store to allow him privacy, specifically when it was for clothes for projects under wraps. In the beginning of her employment, it was only ever Harry who would do the trying on of clothes, but as the two of them got acquainted and comfortable with each other, she found herself trying things Harry would pick out for her. At first, she would veto some items saying they were too expensive for her, but eventually she learned that her new salary covered whatever it was. She had always enjoyed designer labels and choosing to be a stylist meant she had nice clothes, but only working for Harry had caused her closet to double in size and triple in value.

“So we are looking for some trousers today,” she tells the worker at the store, reminding them of what she had already called ahead about. The employee nods and proceeds to lead them into the room where they had laid out an assortment of pants for Harry to pick from.

“What do you think of these?” Harry walks out and strikes a pose, popping one of his hips to the side and his hands on his hips. The pants strain around his thighs, but fit practically perfectly everywhere else. His slim waist is perfectly encircled by the fabric and he’s decided the sweater he was wearing didn’t match them and he’d rather go shirtless. This choice technically should allow her to solely focus on the pants, but it actually makes her focus that much more diverted. She makes a spinning motion with her pointer finger as she purses her lips. He takes a quick spin and the boot cut slightly flares with his movement. The pants are a dark brown with a single plaid crossing in a lighter brown. They are only lightly flared, which she prefered to the extreme flare that some of Harry’s suits had. She narrows her eyes at the pants to keep her gaze from shifting to the taut muscles of Harry’s arms and torso or the dark ink that licked over his skin in the beautiful designs of his choice.

“They’re nice,” she pulls up a picture of the top part of the outfit he was planning on wearing, “Do you think they match with this though?” Harry walks over to her seated position and bends to look at her phone. His skin radiates heat and the smell of his cologne and she sniffles slightly with her sensitive nose. His eyes flicker to her face when he notices her little noise, but returns to looking at the phone when she doesn’t spare him a glance. She felt his gaze on her, but couldn’t bring herself to look from the phone. She knew his proximity would make it even harder for her to keep her eyes off his naked torso. The expensive smell of Harry mixed with the expensive smell of the store was a lot to handle.

“Yeah...no. You think they’re not right,” she widens her eyes at Harry’s words when he pulls away. He turns to the mirror in the open dressing room and fiddles with the waistline of the pants. “I agree,” he finishes before stalking back into the room and shutting the heavy velvet curtain that worked as the door to it.

He tries on five more pairs of trousers and finally settles on two pairs for the two different listening parties. A heavier, wool-tweed pair that was dark brown and then a lighter brown tweed pair. He was still in the lighter pants as he stared into the mirror. He beckoned to Y/N, and she quickly set down the flute of Champagne she had been sipping at lazily as he admired himself.

“Is it possible for you to take it in a bit more,” he says in a hushed tone to her, not wanting the workers to overhear. They were helpful but if they overheard they would wait for the store to tailor the trousers and he preferred for Y/N to do it. He rubs at the waistline again and she moves closer, her hands going to his sides. Her fingertips graze the naked skin above the trousers and Harry shivers at the coldness of the new touch. She ghosts softly over the waistline herself and smooths the fabric until she’s pinching a small amount on each side. She hums, pulling back from Harry and looking at the fit of them now, examining whether that makes them look better.

Then she nods and smiles up at Harry, “Ever the slender waist,” he grins right back as she admires him. She knew how much he liked praise and she was happy to give it to him, especially when he was so deserving. “I’d say size down, but then your thighs and bum might strain the fabric too much.” His face turns to a smirk as she blushes at her words. She releases the fabric and takes a hand to pat Harry’s smooth chest before walking back to her seat on the lovely couch.

“You sure you don’t want to try anything on, Y/N? Saw some killer boots when we walked in that screamed you.” Harry calls from behind the curtain, presumably getting redressed. Her laugh comes through the curtain slightly muffled, yet still a sweet melody in Harry’s ears.

“Definitely not now, we’re leaving any minute. Plus, I’ve got plenty of Gucci boots, don’t even show me them or I’ll be tempted.”

His laughter rings through the curtains, loud and unrestrained. She smiles to herself, unable to discourage the pleasure that weaves through her at the sound. His presence in all the different ways she experienced it was instantly comforting.

When she arrives back to her London flat, she practically flops on her couch once she’s inside the door. Her luggage forgotten at the door, as she shrugs off her coat. It was around 7 am because she had chosen to take the red eye for some reason. She groaned as she thought about the day ahead of her. Even though Harry was halfway across the globe, she still had plenty of work to do. She had to finalize the outfits for the listening parties now that they had the pants to complete the looks. Then she had to start thinking about Harry’s December appearances. She had sent ahead his Late Late outfits that he had needed in Los Angeles for the pre-filming, but she still had to deal with the outfits for the live part of the show.

Today, she was set to go pick up the other pieces needed for the listening parties as well as items for the Graham Norton Show and Jingle Ball. She was most excited for her travels because that meant looking at brand new clothes that were perfect and gorgeous. She also knew she needed to spot clean Harry’s shirt, which didn’t spark as much joy in her tired mind.

The idea of the shirt staining with alcohol was what brought her out of her snuggling with her comfy couch. Sure, it couldn’t get that bad, but still she was a worrier and it would pain her if the iconic shirt got ruined. She padded back over to her luggage, now without her jacket or shoes. Her major suitcase got flipped on its side and she began to unzip it. It came open easily seeing as it was stuffed with her clothes and various items. She had to rummage a minute for Harry’s shirt that seemed to have run away inside the bag. Finally, the large white shirt made itself known and she grasped it happily.

As she looked over the stain near the collar of the shirt, her eyes traveled to a piece of fabric peeking out of her suitcase. It was a familiar blue, cream and white. A specific fabric she would never misplace, would never not recognize. Harry’s plaid Bode jacket. It was iconic and she loved it, but why did she have it in her suitcase. She definitely didn’t mean to have it, it’s genuinely just one of Harry’s jackets so it wouldn’t make sense for her to bring it back with the show's wardrobe. She tries to think back to yesterday, when she was still in New York. Thinking about why she would have it, she places the memories of Harry coming to her room, taking off his coat, and accidentally leaving it in her room all fit together. She must have just absentmindedly placed it in her suitcase without even realizing. She’s sure Harry wouldn’t mind, she’d shoot him a text, though, to tell him she had it. So he wouldn’t worry about whether he’d lost it or not.

When she gets ready for the day, she finds herself being drawn to blue and cream. Her outfit is understated and she just knows the jacket would finish the look. She loved that jacket and now that she had it, would it be a big deal if she wore it out. She figured it was fine. After she grabbed her purse, keys, and other essentials, she slipped on the coat. Harry was very broad shouldered and it hung oversized on her. She loved the look and snapped a selfie in the mirror before she headed out. While it felt a little narcissistic to constantly take photos of herself, she felt like as a stylist it was important to document her looks just as much as she documented her clients.

What she didn’t think about is just how much the rest of the world liked to document her client and those who were seen with her client. She didn’t think about how she had just been seen with Harry yesterday. That thought didn’t even cross her mind as she walked around the streets of London picking up her work. As she saw some photographers out and about (whom she assumed were for famous celebrities, not her). How it might seem with her wearing the Bode jacket Harry had worn on SNL two nights ago. The Bode jacket that there were only two of.

None of it crossed her mind. Not until it was the end of the day and she had a whole slew of texts from Harry’s manager. A few from Harry, and others but the other fifteen were solely from Jeff. She was a bad texter so as she walked into her flat and finally looked at her phone after putting down all of her garment bags her eyes went wide.

Please tell me you’re not out in London right now!

What are you wearing??

That cannot be Harry’s jacket Y/N

Seriously?

Please call me.

CALL ME. NOW.

- All from Jeff.

She grimaced. The others from her friends including Harry would have to be ignored right now. Even if Harry was her boss, Jeff was who she had to deal with when it came to public appearances and it didn’t seem like she could get around this one. Normally, she never had to deal with him, but it seems today wasn’t normal.

part 2

5K notes · View notes

meetmymouth · 4 years ago

Text

AUBADE ; HARRY STYLES

WORD COUNT: 12k

warnings: smut, smoking, alcohol consumption.

thank you @harryandhockey and @burberryharold for beta-ing this baby, you guys are the sweetest angels!

When the doorbell goes off for the third time that night, she groans and tosses the lipstick on her bed, then makes her way towards the door. Through the stained glass, she sees a tall figure and rolls her eyes.

“Look, this is the third time- oh. It’s you.”

The blonde raises her eyebrows, “Who were you expecting? Also wow, I feel so welcome, thank you.”

“Sorry,” the door closes behind Charlotte, and they walk inside.

Once in the tiny kitchen, kettle already on, she takes time to coat her eyelashes with mascara.

“Who did you think I was, that was quite the welcome.”

“Couple of girls kept knocking on the door. Something about a survey. I’ve no idea. Hey, can you help me put this on?” She takes a necklace out of her jean pocket and hands it over.

It’s Thursday, which means happy hour at their local pub and after that, they’d take N31 towards Camden to listen to a friend of Charlotte’s, an upcoming indie artist. She usually didn’t like going out on weekdays since she worked 8 to 4 and she would need to wake up at 6AM sharp to get ready and leave her flat for her Friday shift. But ever since Charlotte started working for the touring musician Harry Styles, they saw each other twice- once when they toured England and the second one being right before Charlotte left for tour. Being close friends since school, it was safe to say that she felt her absence and missed her friend dearly but were also so proud of her for everything she’d achieved.

So when Charlotte came home during their break, she wanted to spend as much time as possible with her friend and if it meant spending her Friday shift hungover while cleaning up animal urine and puke from all kinds of animals, then so be it.

“There,” Charlotte pats her on the neck after she clasps the necklace and she turns around, hand reaching to turn the kettle off.

“Ta. When are we leaving? And do you think I should go for my Adidas or the boots?” She points at the heeled boots, half white half black by the kitchen entrance and Charlotte follows her gaze as she sips the hot beverage.

She looks at the boots, then her, then the boots again, “The boots for fuckin’ sure. They’re sick- where’d you get them?”

“Depop,” She lets out a chuckle, “Think they’re Topshop, ‘m not sure. Should we leave? Y’know I walk dead slow and now that I’m wearin’ the boots…”

“You really do...go get your shit, I’ll wash this.”

They’re gathered around a round table, the green paint of the wooden table beginning to chip, and everyone’s got drinks of their own, G&T being the most popular choice. There are only five of them, Charlotte, her, Phoebe and her girlfriend Jamie, and they’re chatting about anything and everything until Charlotte turns to her, straw between her red lips.

“So-”

“Oh dear, what have you done,” she cuts her off and earns a glare from her, and from the corner of her eye, she sees Phoebe and Jamie cross their arms as if they’re getting ready for their usual bickering.

“Fuck you,” Charlotte sighs, “I didn’t do anything. I just invited some more people to Julien’s show and wanted to...kinda ask if that’s alright with you”

“Oh,” she looks around the table, finding the other girls looking at their phones and she turns to Charlotte, “It’s fine. Who are they?”

Phoebe snorts at that and her eyebrows raise in question. She gives Phoebe a look, but Charlotte’s quicker as she throws a damp tissue at the blonde and Jamie laughs when it lands back on Charlotte’s lap. “You know Sarah from the band?”

“Oh, yeah!”

She remembers meeting Sarah at Charlotte’s new flat after she moved to London, the brunette bringing a cute snake plant and a weird- but cute tea set as a housewarming gift and they got on well. They talked about plants, Sarah giving her tips on how to keep certain plants alive, and she asked her lots of questions about her experience being a woman, especially a drummer in the music industry. Sarah was very soft spoken; she spoke as if she was talking to a baby, but she always made sure to maintain eye contact when she was having a conversation with you, listening and nodding when appropriate so that you felt special and...understood. She was lovely, which was why she found it weird how Charlotte was acting awkward about her joining them tonight.

“And her boyfriend, Mitch, of course,” Charlotte adds and she nods, motioning for her to keep going. “And Harry.”

“Harry Styles?”

“Oh boy,” Jamie whistles.

“Obviously,” Charlotte sucks on her straw, slurping her drink, “Yeah, him,” she repeats, this time softer.

“I...why?” She chooses to ask, surprised as she’d like to think Harry Styles as this unreachable, ever-so-busy person who wouldn’t be interested in a night out like this. She turns to Phoebe, and then Jamie, and they respond with a shrug as Phoebe goes back to cuddling into Jamie’s side.

“What do you mean why?” Charlotte places her drink on the table, “It would be rude not to since I asked Sarah and Mitch.”

“Well, I just mean, isn’t he busy?”

Jamie whistles again and sings her name, “You got a crush, babes?”

“Nonsense, never even met the guy- which,” she looks around the table, “-is one of the reasons why I was confused. Anyway, it doesn't matter,” she shrugs and turns to Charlotte, “I’m not bothered, Lotts, it’s totally fine.”

“Y��sure?”

She gives her a nod, “I just find him intimidating and don’t think he’d be into indie, that’s all.”

It was true. Despite having not met Mr. Harry Styles, deep down she knew he’d be intimidating because he was so good looking and well, just like most people, she loved One Direction. She was a big fan, she even got told off by her stepmother once when she was younger because apparently the tape she used to hang her One Direction posters was ruining the walls. She often referred to them as twinks, and she didn’t even know what it meant until she was older. She remembers how she got made fun of at sixth form because one of the girls found her old Tumblr and told everyone about it. Harry’s never been her favourite though. Not because she didn’t find him attractive, not at all. It was because he was too attractive and was everyone’s favourite so whenever asked, she’d shrug and tell people how she found Louis funny, and then Zayn because ’he’s the hottest’.

Long story short, despite her friendship with Charlotte, she’d never met Harry, never had the opportunity to attend one of his shows because she was either too busy or they were playing in a different country and she simply couldn’t afford it. So tonight would be the first time they’d get to be in the same place and to say that she was nervous would be an understatement. And her, she always thought she was awkward. Way too awkward for social gatherings but she liked going out regardless, drinking cheap alcohol and dancing to shitty songs in an equally shitty pub. She loved being a student. Loved the freedom the title had given her. What’s your occupation, she’d get asked from time to time. Student, she’d say without hesitating. She was a student. She didn’t have to be anything else for three years. Sure, she was also working part time at an animal shelter but for the most part, she loved being a student. That’s how she met Phoebe, and then Jamie. In a way, she was their matchmaker.

She remembers meeting Phoebe last year when they had a class together. She was the first person to smile at her in the overcrowded lecture theatre and she remembers thinking how nice Phoebe’s green fringe looked. Meeting Jamie though, was funny. Phoebe usually got weird when they joked about it since she met Jamie before Phoebe did on Tinder, even went on a date with her, and then right before she was about to ghost her, she thought of how similar Phoebe and Jamie were. It was then that she made Phoebe go on a date with Jamie, and after a month of pining, they got together. Even though they were similar, she always thought that they actually completed each other, Jamie being the logical one and Phoebe encouraging Jamie to let loose from time to time and live in the moment.

Charlotte reaches and boops her nose, “He’s a musician, he loves all kinds of music. He won’t eat you, babe. He’s nice, I promise.”

Phoebe knocks on the wood, getting everyone’s attention, “Can we get a picture with him? An autograph?”

She feels a throbbing pain in her feet, toes in particular once they’re in and they wait for Phoebe and Jamie to buy their drinks, knowing she’d wake up with blisters in the morning. Charlotte takes out her phone and presumably texts the others, letting them know they were already here. She felt nervous. Nervous because she always thought she was rubbish when it came to meeting new people; they either thought she was too intimidating or rude but in reality, it was only because she always felt anxious meeting new people and would rather stay quiet than talking nonsense.

She takes time to analyse her outfit, a pair of black mom jeans and her boots, oh the boots who were currently grilling her feet. Then she tries to adjust her lace bodysuit, all of a sudden feeling super self conscious about the ”revealing” outfit. She adjusts the top, hoping her tits weren’t out before, and sighs when she touches the oversized blazer, rolling up the sleeves a bit more since it was beginning to get warm, too warm for her liking inside. Considering how she often felt self conscious about her arms, she felt more comfortable with the blazer over the sexy bodysuit.

“So,” she starts, eyes studying the crowded bar before her gaze stops at Charlotte, “Are they here?”

Charlotte looks up from her phone and nods, leaning her head on her shoulder. She feels her arm going around her waist and smiles, nudging her head with hers and she looks up, giving her a smile of her own. “What’s up, blondie?” she asks, hand coming up to ruffle Charlotte’s fringe.

She sighs, “Just tired, to be honest. I’m glad I wore trainers.”

“At least one of us is happy about their shoe choice.”

They watch as Phoebe and Jamie walk towards them, the brunette handing her a tall glass as Phoebe hands Charlotte her own drink. “When’s she on?”

Everyone turns to Charlotte, “Half an hour, maybe?”

“When are your friends coming? It’s getting quite...stuffy in here,” Jamie looks around and Phoebe nods, hands going around Jamie’s waist to pull the brunette into her.

“I texted Sarah and she said Harry was parking the car- oh, I see Mitch.”

They all look around, and she spots the tall guy with long hair, walking towards them with Sarah and Harry behind. She gulps and tries to look away, praying that no one takes notice of her sweaty forehead and shaky hands.

As the trio walk towards them, she takes a moment to examine Harry, and his outfit. Even in the dimly lit bar, she’s almost sure the high waisted trousers he has on are navy, and he’s got a tan...or a beige shirt tucked in them, chest on full display and she notices a cross necklace, looking as if it was made for his pretty neck. She clears her throat as quietly as she can and looks down but not before she takes a peek at his shoes, and she almost snorts at the choice of red boots he’s got on, noticing how everyone had trainers on while the two of them had what looked like very uncomfortable boots on.

To be honest, she thinks, he looks pretty good. She looks around them, noticing how most guys had jeans and ugly trainers on whereas Harry looked like he made quite the effort with his outfit but she also knows that even if he turned up in jeans and ugly trainers, he would still look amazing. Damn Harry Styles. Was she blushing?

The three of them are in their space now, close enough so she can make out Sarah’s overpowering perfume, and she clears her throat once again when Charlotte embraces Sarah first, then Mitch. Before she can watch her hug Harry, Sarah’s in front of her.

“Hi,” she smiles, going in for a hug, “It’s so nice to see you again. It’s been a while,” she says and her voice comes out muffled since they’re still hugging and she hopes her hair smells decent because Sarah’s face is pressed against her neck and hair.

“It’s nice to see you too! How have you been?”

“‘Been alright, I suppose!” She beams at her and turns to the man with long hair, “This is Mitch.”

As Sarah introduces everyone with Mitch, she feels Harry’s eyes on her, though she can’t turn her head and meet his gaze because that’d be rude seeing how Mitch is about to reach and give her a one armed hug. Alright then, she thinks, they’re a hugger. Then, it’s Harry’s turn. She looks at him, seeing how his eyes are focused on Phoebe and Jamie as he gives them both a warm smile before Charlotte starts talking again, introducing everyone to Phoebe and Jamie, then everyone turns to her, and she feels her face heat up seeing how everyone’s attention is on her now. She knows it’s her turn.

Harry takes a step forward and her earlier thoughts are confirmed when she can finally make out the colour of his trousers. “Hey, ‘m Harry,” he gives her a smile without waiting for Charlotte to speak, “Nice meeting you,” he comes closer and wraps an arm around her, engulfing her in a hug but it’s definitely different from Mitch or Sarah’s hug. It’s tight, much warmer and he’s got both arms around her, palms flat against her back as he rubs her back.

And of course she responds with the same warmness and hugs him back, “Hiya,” she introduces herself, and once they pull apart, he repeats her name and it sounds like poetry, something so personal and...erotic. But maybe, she thinks, maybe it’s just his deep voice making her feel that way.

Despite the moment they shared, if she could call it that, felt like hours, it was merely a minute. And it wasn’t like in the films where they hug, everything around them slowing down as the people watch in awe. No, not at all. When she looks around, she sees that everyone’s been already mingling, Phoebe and Jamie smiling at each other while they sipped their drinks, and Mitch is nowhere to be seen, possibly at the bar getting drinks.

Harry turns to Charlotte with a grin, “So is she any good, should we replace you with her?” He says, nudging her with his hip.

That sort of makes her smile, seeing Harry so carefree and friendly with the people who are essentially working for him. Even though she doesn’t know Harry Styles like they do, like Charlotte does, she knows he considers these people to be his friends and colleagues rather than his employees. It’s also fun seeing him this friendly with her best friend, and she feels proud, as she always does, knowing Charlotte has made herself great friends and that she clearly enjoys working with these people.

Charlotte nudges him back, “She’s great, I wouldn’t mind being replaced by her. Oh, there she is,” she points at the stage, and everyone turns to look at the pink-haired girl on the tiny stage with a sleek looking acoustic guitar on her side. As the others start talking about Julien, she finally takes the opportunity to look at Harry. Once their eyes meet, he gives her a smile, dimples on full display, and she swears she could see him blush when he looks down after she beamed at him. Even if he did blush though, he recovers quickly when he’s offered a drink and he mutters a thank you to Mitch, then lifts the slice of lime off the rim of his glass and sucks it into his mouth and she deems it as a good time to look away.

And she does, when she feels Sarah close, and she turns to her, Sarah welcoming her with a smile, “How’s uni? It’s your last year, right?”

“Oh, yeah,” she clears her throat, “It’s alright. Exhausting, but alright.”

“You’re working too, right?”

“Yeah, I work at an animal shelter.”

“It must be exhausting.”

“It is,” she gives her a nod, “I work three days a week and I also have classes so I only have Sundays off. I’ll probably leave and focus on uni after Christmas break though, I have my dissertation next semester.”

“Oh, cool! I miss being a student,” she purses her lips and turns to Harry, who had been listening to their conversation, his pretty fingers, most of them adorned with equally pretty rings, wrapped around the tall glass, “You probably can’t relate, H, can ya?”

He rolls her eyes but laughs regardless, “Piss off.”

Despite the chatter around them, it’s not ridiculously loud so they can carry a conversation without having to shout. They fall into an easy conversation, everyone joining in, and all of a sudden a pink neon light falls over them and they all turn to the stage. Julien starts singing, and all the chatter around them dies down, some people already starting to sing the words back at her.

She looks away from the stage for a minute and catches Harry’s gaze from across the room. They’re close enough for her to make out a few droplets of sweat on Harry’s forehead, and their eyes meet as he gives her a smile, eyes sparkling with mischief, then brings the glass up to his mouth. She watches as his top lip rests on the rim before he lifts it to his mouth and when she looks up, she sees him still looking at, gaze unwavering and mouth curled upwards in a sly smirk. She was caught. She was caught and he looked like he was loving and devouring every second of it.

Julien takes a break, promising to come back with a brand new song from her upcoming EP, and there’s a group of people making their way towards the exit, presumably to have a smoke and get some fresh air.

“Where’s she gone?” Charlotte huffs, eyes searching the room for the pink haired girl.

“She’s over there,” Phoebe points at Julien and they all turn to where she’s pointing at, spotting Julien near the bar with a drink in hand.

“Is she flirting?”

“She’s got groupies already?” she says after she takes her eyes off of Harry and everyone laughs.

Charlotte comes closer and nudges her shoulder against her, “You’d know, wouldn’t you?” “Be quiet,” she nudges back, and their group falls back into their conversation except Harry, who keeps staring at her and she gulps, hands reaching to feel her blazer pockets.

“Right,” she mutters, “It’s time to poison myself. I’m going out for a fag,” once she feels the bulge in her pocket, she turns to Charlotte, “Send me a text when she’s back on, yeah?”

“I’ll come with.”

She looks up at Harry, surprised, but nods, waiting for him to follow her outside. Even though she tries her best not to make eye contact with anyone as they leave, she’s aware of them watching them, everyone in their group equally surprised, but they keep walking, Harry following quietly behind. Once they pass the smelly bodies, they’re finally outside, the wind licking her face once she steps out and she tries to hug herself closer, seeing how the thin blazer’s not doing a good job at keeping her warm.

Harry wishes he’d brought a coat.

They’re quiet as he follows her to a quiet corner, only a few people turning their heads their way, presumably recognising him, and they stop near a brick wall and she takes her tobacco out of her left pocket. She looks up, catching him staring at her ring-clad fingers wrapped around the dark green packet, and she clears her throat, making him look up at her. They share a smile, both feeling at ease with the comfortable silence between them. She spots a wooden bench near and sits down, hands already working the packet open. When she starts tearing the tobacco apart, Harry can’t help but note how quickly she’s working it between her fingers, and he’s almost certain she’s been doing this for years.

“Want one?” She asks and he saunters forward, coming to stand in front of her with hands in his pockets.

He shrugs and she takes that as a yes, fingers pausing their work on the tobacco to take out something that resembles a cigarette and it’s only when she pushes it from the bottom that Harry realises they’re filters. Placing one between her lips, her fingers dip into her pocket once again to retrieve some papers and Harry finds himself unable to look away from her lips and how pretty they look with something between them.

He looks down at her lap, where the packet of tobacco is, seeing her fingers work swiftly as she fills the thin paper, and despite knowing better not to glamorise something as horrible and disgusting as smoking, he takes his time to admire the way she pushes down the tobacco with her index finger, presumably trying to fit and secure everything inside the paper. Taking the filter from between her lips, she places it inside the paper, at the very end, and her fingers start rolling.

Oh fuck, he thinks, knowing what’s about to come. Unable to look away, he watches as she brings it up to her mouth and licks a long stripe along the paper, and despite the lack of lighting around them, his eyes make out her pink tongue moving along the paper and it doesn’t come as a surprise when he feels a sudden twitch in his trousers at the unholy image before his eyes.

“There,” she hands him the rolled up cigarette, “Hope you don’t mind that I licked?”

He wants to laugh because of course he doesn’t mind. In fact, he quite enjoyed it, according to the knot in his stomach and his twitching cock in his underwear. He enjoyed it so much that he now couldn’t stop imagining her mouth doing other things, preferably dirty things with, or to him.

“Nah, it’s all good, thanks.”

“No probs. Didn’t take you as the smoking type,” she lets it slip out.

“I...don’t smoke, really. Only sometimes. When I’m drinking. Which…” He looks at the cigarette between her fingers, “...isn’t that often.”

She notices the nervousness that tinges his words, and it makes her feel better knowing he’s also as awkward as her. “Fair,” she sends him a smile and repeats all the steps on her own rollie, putting it between her lips just like Harry, and she takes her lighter out of the same pocket. She lights her own first and reaches to light his, and he sort of bends over until his cigarette reaches the lighter. They both take a hefty drag of their cigarettes and she blows the smoke out first, Harry watching her pursed lips as he lets out his own next, both of their cigarette smoke swirling in the air and joining in together.

He takes it out of his mouth and lets his arm dangle on his side, cigarette between his fingers, and watches as she takes another drag before fumbling with the packet on her lap, putting everything back in her pocket haphazardly.

“Do you go to uni in London, or?”

“Westminster, yeah,” she takes another drag and notices how Harry hasn’t taken another one of his since.

“Nice,” he says and a grin stretches over his face, “Charlotte talks about you a lot.”

“She does?”

“Yeah, all the time. If I didn’t know about her boyfriend I’d say she was in love with you,” he laughs and gestured to the lighter in her hand and she lets him take the lighter from her hand, watching as the flame lick at the cigarette between Harry’s lip and he takes a long drag. “I mean, we...the band feel like we already know you. It’s sweet, how much she cares about you.”

“Well, I’m pretty hard not to love, you know.”

He blows out the smoke, a chuckle escaping his mouth, “That right?”

“Yeah, I’m fucking great.”

“Well, I-”

He gets interrupted by her phone going off and a pout forms on his face. She huffs, looking around, then throws the cigarette on the ground despite the sign and he does the same, not feeling bad in the slightest. “We going in?” He asks, like a lost puppy waiting for his owner’s command.

“I guess. Is it bad that I don’t want to? Like...does that make me a bad friend?”

“Nah. I...I kinda wanted to stay here too. I was enjoying our conversation.”

She sends him a grin, eyes mischievous, and stops walking, “You telling me you weren’t bored to death by my dry ass conversation?”

“Dry? You opened up and talked about your narcissistic behaviours, that’s not boring, darling,” he smirks and she rolls her eyes, hand reaching to slap his chest and it feels easy, like they’ve known each other for years. “Alright, alright, ’m just messing with you.”

She starts walking again, a few steps ahead of him, and he follows, passing three girls with phones up to their faces.

It’s easy, he thinks, it’s easy with her.

People in the bar begin to leave one by one, and it’s only their small group and a few others left, some of them still sipping their drinks and the others talking and laughing. Some even come up to Julien, who’s sipping her water from a reusable water bottle as Charlotte keeps snapping pictures of her, and they all congratulate her, telling her how excited they are about the EP. She’s all smiles, fringe sticking to her forehead due to sweat, and her long arms are equally sweaty, dressed in a tight black dress with striped knee high socks adorning her long legs, and a pair of platform Mary Janes.

“So,” Harry says, folding his arms across his chest, “Do you have any plans for October?”

Mitch snorts across him and Julien tilts her head, puzzled, “Erm...I’ve no idea, to be honest. It’s months away and God knows I’m shite at thinking ahead. That’s why I’m friends with this lot,” she gestures to their tiny group, causing Charlotte to snort and Julien continues, turning her attention to her who’s playing with the hem of her blazer, “This one though...”

“Oh, fuck off.”

“Oi, what’s crawled up your bum, eh?” Julien turns to Harry again, catching how his gaze flickered over her body, then her face instead of looking at Julien and she finds herself smirking at the tension between the two.

“We’re thinking of putting a show together for Halloween. I have a bunch of new and upcoming artists in my mind that I’d love to see perform that night. Would you be interested?” Harry’s attention is back on Julien and he watches as the girl gasps, eyes widening in excitement.

“Shut the fuck up!” She yells, almost dropping her water bottle and they all laugh, Charlotte reaching to flip her on the forehead and she slaps her freshly-manicured hand away, “You’re not taking the piss, are you?”

Harry laughs, “Am definitely not. I love your vibe. That’s actually one of the reasons why I asked Charlotte if I could come tonight,” he says as he runs his fingers through his hair, the strands gliding easily between his long fingers.

“Yeah,” Charlotte smiles at Julien, “He’s on a hunt. He thinks he’s one of those talent agents. Just say yes, Jules, it’ll be fun.”

“Holy fuck. Yes. Fuck, yes. Of fucking course, yes!”

They all laugh when she lunges herself at Harry, arms wrapping around his neck, “Thank you, thank you, thank you, fuck I could literally kiss you right now but I won’t, I’ve been watching you both undress each other with your eyes all night,” arms still around Harry’s neck, Julien turns her head towards her, whom Harry’s been looking at all night, and gives her a wink before breaking their hug. “So, do I have to do anything? What do I have to do? Fuck, I’m so bad at this-”

“Hey,” Harry interrupts, “It’s fine. Relax. Are you signed with anyone? Have a manager?”

“Oh, yeah, I’m with Gleam, my manager, Alana, she’s sick that’s why she wasn't here tonight.”

“Okay, that’s fine. Just give me your phone number and your manager’s contact details and we’ll sort everything out. Hey- relax, it’s gonna be fun!” He reaches and gives her shoulder a squeeze.

“I called an Uber,” Sarah says after her phone goes off, “And it looks like…” she taps on the screen a few times, “Hassan is here.”

“We could’ve gotten maccies,” she says, pouting, as her head rests on Charlotte’s shoulder.

Sarah sighs, cuddling closer into Mitch’s side, “We’re leaving for Brighton tomorrow morning.”

“Yeah, Sarah’s making us wake up at, like, five,” Mitch grumbles.

They all start walking towards the exit, Julien and Harry in the back talking about the show as Charlotte links her arm with her as they follow behind the others. As they walk, she remembers how Harry arrived with Sarah and Mitch, meaning they shared a ride, and she turns to look at Harry who seems to be in deep conversation as he waves his hands around.

She feels hot all of a sudden, remembering how neither of them wanted to go inside earlier, how good he looked and how his voice sounded, deep, so deep, when his attention was only on her and not the girl on the stage or his drink or the people around them. As selfish as it sounds, she wanted all his attention on her, she wanted him to only look at her, see her, think of her, and she feels foolish because they only met tonight, and their conversation earlier didn’t last that long.

Once they’re outside, everyone sighs, almost in relief as the fresh air fills their lungs, and everyone bids their goodbyes to Sarah and Mitch, then Phoebe starts complaining about how uncomfortable and tired she was.

“That’s it from us, folks, my wife needs a shower,” Jamie pinches Phoebe’s cheek as Phoebe blushes, swatting her hand away.

She turns to Harry for a second and he’s just standing there, arms folded with an expression she’s unable to read, and Julien laughs, muttering something about catching a black cab since she now has money to waste.

Everyone leaves and it’s only them, and Charlotte comes closer to her as she nudges her hip with hers, “Hey. Is it cool if Harry gives you a ride? Tom’s picking me up.”

She panics and gives her a puzzled look. A car ride with Harry. Alone. Just the two of them.

She swallows, “How come you never mention it?”

“He just texted me, we’re driving up to Manc. Will you be okay?” She reaches and strokes her cheek, then turns to Harry, as if the question was directed at both of them.

“Well, yeah...I mean- I’ll call a Bolt or something-”

“It’s fine, I can give you a ride,” Harry says, hands now in his pockets. He looks like he’s cold too, considering how he’s only wearing a thin shirt and his chest is on full display, letting the breeze softly lick at the flesh.

“I wouldn’t want to be a bother, I can take a Bolt. Really, it’s fine.”

“I insist...whereabouts is your place?”

“Ehm,” she sniffs and her eyes look for Charlotte for a moment, and when she spots her, she’s watching them despite the phone pressed against her ear. “Marylebone.”

“Great! That alright with you?”

She looks at Charlotte again, the short haired girl failing to meet her gaze, and she turns to Harry again, lips pursed, “I guess- I mean...sure. Okay.”

Harry beams at that, the dimple on his left cheek widening with the smile, and she wants to reach out and touch it, place her finger there. She doesn’t though. Instead, she gives him a smile and looks down at her boots, feeling all giddy inside with the realisation that she’d be alone with Harry for a while and it would also be away from any prying eyes, in the warmth of his car.

Charlotte comes back and reaches for her, giving her a big hug as she buries her head in her neck, and she involuntarily breathes in the smell of cigarettes and Charlotte’s personal favourite, Chanel no. 5.

“Text me when you’re home, yeah? And text me if you need anything...he’s nice, I promise,” she whispers the last part, as if she’s letting her in on a secret, then reaches for Harry to give him a hug.

“Drive safe,” she says, walking backwards, “I mean it.”

“I will. Precious cargo, am I right?”

Harry opens the door for her and waits for her to get in, her lips form the words ‘thank you’, and once they’re both inside, seatbelts on, Harry sighs and tries to fix his creased shirt. She watches his hands, the rings catching the light coming from a lamppost outside, creating beams, and she notices the single, nearly-chipped gold nail polish on his left pinky.

“So…” they both say at the same time and he laughs, shaking his head, and a few strands fall to his eyes.

She chuckles too, eyes falling to her hands on her lap as she fiddles with them. “I think we’ve been set up,” she mumbles and looks up at him, finding him watching her carefully with one hand on the steering wheel and the other on his thigh.

“Yeah? You think so?”

“Oh, yeah. I’m usually not this dumb.”

“Maybe you wanted play dumb, hm?” He gives her a smile, causing her to scoff, and he surprises them both when his left hand reaches to stroke her cheek, making goosebumps appear on her skin and she swears she could hear her breath hitch at the warm touch, feeling hot all over.

They stare at each other, his hand still on her cheek, and she swallows, “Sure, whatever you say.”

“Is this okay?” He asks, gesturing at the touch, voice as soft and smooth as honey.

She nods, because it is. It is more than okay and if it were up to her, they’d already be kissing, tasting each other’s dirty, sweaty skin and touching each other all over, feeling each other’s bodies...she wanted all of that.

She swallows again, his gaze shifting from her face to her neck, then lower and lower until it reaches her boobs. They look divine, he thinks, despite the lack of lighting in his car, they look absolutely gorgeous, sort of spilling out from the lace material and he gulps, hand beginning to make its way down to her neck. He rests it there as long fingers caress the side of her neck, discovering a few moles there, and he looks up at her, only to find her eyes fixed on his lap. He looks down to, the slight tent not coming as a surprise, and he gives her a grin, the other hand coming to rest atop his bulge.

“Hm?” He hums as he waits for her answer despite knowing what she would say.

She clears her throat and looks around, seeing the almost empty parking lot all dark except the stop sign near the exit, and turns her attention back to Harry.

“Yes. It’s okay.”

“Mmm,” his fingers curl around her throat, thumb stroking the flesh there, “Thank you, love. Can I kiss you?”

“You can...Please,” she practically moans when his thumb presses a sweet spot on her neck and he gives her a smile, hand reaching to unbuckle both of their seatbelts with a click.

It doesn’t happen that fast. First, he gives her a look, almost as if he’s trying to remember where her lips are and the nose, then her eyes...he keeps looking, and looking, and he brings his hand up to her mouth, resting his thumb on her bottom lip as her eyes shift downwards with the movement. While he watches her, she takes her time to watch him, his face, and she feels something bubbling inside her, much like the bubbles that rise to the top when you open a coke bottle.

Pressure, she thinks, pressure and the need to devour him. Thus, without thinking too much, she reaches and grabs him by the nape of his neck, his hand falling atop the car seat as their lips meet, both of them hungry for each other’s touch as their teeth clash and Harry lets out a hiss when she bites his bottom lip, suckining it into her mouth.

His hands go up to her cheeks, pushing her far enough to look into her face and eyes in particular and he smiles, the inside of his palms feeling the soft peach fuzz on her face. When she lunges forward to continue their kiss, he stops her, thumb stroking her cheekbones as she lets out a huff, and he chuckles, “Slow, baby, slow. We’ve got time. I want to feel you, taste you as much as I can, yeah?”

She nods, letting him stroke the side of her face some more and feel her skin against his soft hands before he starts leaning in, this time slow, so slow that it feels like hours to her. Before she closes her eyes, she catches a glimpse of his pink tongue dart out to lick his lips, and he finally captures her top lip, sucking it into his mouth softly and she melts under his touch, her mouth pursed as she starts responding with her own kisses. Their lips, she feels, fit together like a puzzle piece.

Harry’s tongue swipes across her bottom lip and she opens wider, letting him lick into her mouth further. It’s hot, wet, and she feels herself getting wetter and wetter as the smooch noises grow louder with each kiss. His hands are now cupping both of her cheeks, and as he presses wet pecks on her parted mouth, one of his thumbs travel down to her mouth and he stops their kiss, and she opens her eyes, giving him a puzzled look.

He shushes her, lips pursed as he does so, and her eyes watches the movement, wanting to feel them all over her body now that she knows how he feels and tastes like. He presses his thumb against her bottom lip, then into her mouth and pulls her closer to him. He shuts his eyes and tilts his head when she closes her mouth around his thumb, sucking it like a lolly, and his cock twitches in his trousers again as he watches the way she sucks on his flesh, humming around it as if she’s having the most delicious meal of her life.

“Fuck, baby,” he rasps, “Y’like playing with me, don’t you?”

She doesn’t respond. Instead, she takes his thumb out of her mouth with a pop and she holds him by the wrist, placing his hand on one of her boobs and Harry lets her warm hands and the feeling of lace overpower him as he gives her boob a squeeze, then travels his hand down to where he supposes her nipple is and brushes a thumb over it, a beaming grin stretching across his face when he feels her pebbled nipple under his thumb.

When he looks at her face, she’s biting her lips, eyes shut, and he bites his own lips as he traps her covered nipple between his thumb and index finger, tweaking it gently which causes her to breathe out a moan, toes curling involuntarily inside her boots. He tugs at it, then his hand travels up and he looks at her, as if to ask her permission for what he’s about to do. And she nods, of course she does, and she feels her upper torso getting sore from the position they’ve been in but she lets it go, reaching for his hand near her boob and places it on top of his, encouraging him to keep going.

With her hand on top of his, he slides the bodysuit down from the top, and he feels his cock twitch in interest so he has to bring his other hand down to press against his bulge over his trousers in hopes of relieving some of the tension. He plays with her nipple, tweaking and squeezing it between his fingers before finally leaning to capture the pebbled nipple into his mouth. “God damn, your tits...so fuckin’ hot, baby,” he bites her nipple and she shudders, back arching in pleasure. “Wanna do everything with you...wanna fuck you- wanna fuck these tits,” he whispers against her nipple, now wet with his spit, and his hot breath sends chills down her spine.

It’s warm, his mouth, so warm and wet around her hard nipples and she lets out another moan, arms wrapping around his neck and she tries to press against him closer. “Fuck,” a moan leaver her mouth, “Please, Harry, fuck me. Do something, just- ‘m so wet.”

“Yeah? Want me to fuck you? Jesus,” he presses a kiss to her nipple before he frees her other boob from the fabric, “You’re so fuckin’ hot. Got me so fuckin’ hard, just look at these gorgeous tits, baby. Bet your cunt’s even more gorgeous, hm?” He whispers, hands already on the other boob, squeezing the nipple and he watches as it hardens, looking so pretty and puckered for him and he gets his mouth on that one too, licking across the nipple before he bites it into his mouth.

“Can I take this off, sweetheart?” He touches her shoulder, squeezing her there over the blazer, and when he sees the hesitation in her eyes, he travels his hand up to her neck and strokes it there, “Y’don’t have to, darling. However you’re comfortable.”

“No,” she says ever so softly, “It’s okay.”

He smiles at her as she takes the jacket off and throws it somewhere at her feet. Harry grabs her by the neck and brings her in for another kiss but this time, it’s slow. And sweet. Slow, sweet, and warm, so warm that she feels it in her chest, in her stomach, and it reaches everywhere, the kiss warming anything and everything inside her. He swipes a tongue across her bottom lip before pulling away, and places both hands on her boobs, squeezing them, mouth popping open as he watches them in awe.

“Fuckin’ hell,” he brings one of his hands to the front of his trousers and the heels of his palms press against the bulge, but instead of giving him some relief, the touch makes him hiss, wishing for something softer, warmer.

“Can I fuck you? I need to fuck you, please, sweetheart,” he whispers and she nods, tongue darting out to lick her dry lips and he nods as well, looking around inside the car, swiftly examining the tinted black windows before he turns to her, “I hate that I’m about to fuck that pretty pussy in the backseat of my car instead of a comfortable bed but I need it so bad, sweetheart, I need you,” he licks his lips, “That okay?”

“Yes...more than.”

He helps her move to the backseat, boobs still hanging from the top, and he joins her in the backseat quickly. They’re closer now, nothing serving as a barrier between them, and with the way they’re facing each other, she can make out a tiny pimple on the side of his nose as well as a little mole on his forehead. Her gaze falls to his bulge again, and he’s already fumbling to get them off. With a swallow, she shuts her eyes so she doesn’t see Harry watching her intently, dilated pupils fixated on her sweaty skin, her lips in particular.

He leans in and presses an open mouth kiss to her damp skin, the touch making her open her eyes.

Take it off” she whispers, voice as sweet as honey, “Come on, I want you to fuck me,” she breathes against his hair, his head now in the crook of her neck, and she feels him nod, his hands coming to rest atop hers.

He fumbles with the button with shaky hands, her hands coming to rest on Harry’s waist and he sighs in relief when he hears the zipper. He lowers his trousers along with his underwear clumsily, the pile of material pooling around his ankles. He’s hard and leaking already, the tip an angry shade of red, and she takes a few seconds to admire the thickness of his cock and how pretty it looks, his dark, coarse pubic hair making her mouth water as she imagines deepthroating him, nuzzling the hair at the base of his cock.

Harry looks up and she’s got one hand on her boob while the other rubs herself through her jeans, presumably feeling aroused with the way the fabric is feeling against her pussy. A low, choked ‘fuck’ leaves his mouth following a growl as his long fingers begin unbuttoning the beige shirt and she watches, bottom lip trapped between her teeth with fingers rubbing herself.

Once it’s unbuttoned, he’s quick to get his hands on her jeans, eyes briefly searching for something in hers before he starts unbuttoning them. She stops him and bends over to take her boots off and he watches her back, hand reaching involuntarily to travel his fingers down her spine, stroking her waist before he bends forward to place a kiss on there as she keeps fumbling with her boots. Once they’re off, he’s quick to help her get the jeans off too, and he throws them in the front seat, smiling when she hears her giggle.

“Alright, Miss Giggles?” he says softly, palm resting on top of her thigh as one of his hands reaches and strokes the side of her face, fingers playing in her wild strands of hair.

She bites her lip again, giving him a nod, and he brings her face into his, lips pressing a tender kiss to her chin before he opens his mouth slightly and grazes his teeth across the flesh, and he presses a final, loud kiss there before he pulls away with a pop, leaving her chin all shiny and wet with his saliva. He lowers his eyes and spots her thong, fabric too tiny and flimsy to cover all the areas of her pussy, and he lets out a groan at the sight, hand immediately reaching to touch what’s under her little thong.

“So pretty, darling...so, so pretty,” he murmurs and she watches with parted legs as he positions his middle finger against her pussy over the black lace, thin, so he feels just how warm and wet she is between her folds. This makes him pause to look down at his cock, just to make sure he’s not about to spill all over the carseat since he feels the pleasure at the tip of his cock, ready to explode right then and there. “How can anyone ever resist you, hm? This pretty girl…” with one hand still between her legs, he reaches with his other hand and ghosts his thumb over her nipple, his other hand working her thong as he pulls it to the side, “...this pretty pussy,” he murmurs, making her eyes lull shut at the compliments.

She parts her legs wider to give him more room to work with, and he grins as he looks up at her hungry eyes, knowing what she’s asking for. And god, is he about to give her what she wants. The way she looks, not just half naked but from the moment he’d caught a glimpse of the grumpy girl across the room, it’s been driving him insane. Not that she was rude or looked bored, but she looked cute, kinda nervous, as if she too was as uncomfortable as Harry by the prying eyes and tipsy chatter around them.

From the moment they were introduced, Harry knew she didn’t particularly like to be looked at. Maybe he was being judgmental, or reading too much into things, but he got the impression that she was sort of nervous to be around people, especially new people. He tried his hardest not to be some weirdo, an utter creep who kept looking at the beautiful girl across him but truth be told, it wasn’t the first time Harry had seen the girl’s face.

He knew of her, stories about her, from Charlotte, and saw numerous photos and throwback videos of them on Charlotte’s Instagram, but he would never actually admit to the fact that he’d clicked on her tag on one of Charlotte’s posts, and scrolled through her feed for hours, giggling from time to time at her silly captions and numerous pictures of a Golden Retriever and a black cat cuddling.

Yes, he might have found her interesting, took a few screenshots of her posts where she proudly displayed her favourite reads, immediately ordering everything on there, and a few funny memes, but now with his middle finger circling her clit, he would never, ever admit any of that to anyone, ever.

“Harry,” she breathes, and it sounds sort of harsh, rough even, the reason presumably being a mix of the cigarettes she’d been smoking and the way his finger teasingly, slowly moves over her pussy. “Harry…” she says again, melodiously, fingers curling around his wrist and he looks up with a grin, eyes almost evil, dark and pupils dilated from hunger bubbling up inside him.

He retracts his finger and brings it up to his mouth slowly, her eyes watching him like a hawk, and his pink tongue darts out, licking a long stripe up his middle finger and he truly devours the savoury taste, eyes finding hers as he sucks the finger into his mouth. “Taste so good, sweetheart,” he murmurs, “Want me to play with that beautiful cunt, hm? Give it my full attention?”

“Yes, please, I need it so bad, I’ve been waiting for so long.”

“Yeah?” He asks, ever so softly, “How long?” He presses, his middle finger once again placed between her wet folds, and she wraps her fingers around his wrist.

There’s a bloom of pleasure in her voice when she lets out a shaky breath, a stuttered ’yeah’ because she doesn’t want to give in to Harry’s teasing game, and he leans forward, capturing her chin with his mouth as he bites the flesh while the pads of his finger massages slow and deep over her swollen clit.

He feels the spongy bit under his touch, “Tell me you’ve been thinking of this too,” he breathes against her wet chin, then brings his middle finger down to her hole. It’s wet, so fucking wet when he drags his finger back up and circles her clit faster than before which makes her legs kick out in pleasure, one hand grabbing harshly at her boob as the other go up to Harry’s soft hair and she pulls, fingernails scratching his scalp while doing so. He groans against her skin and drags his finger down to her slick little hole again, circling around the wet, soft muscle and he pushes his finger in, her cunt making a wet, lovely sound as he does so as his eyes fall to his throbbing cock.

It’s so hard, an unpleasant feeling blooming inside, so he takes his finger out of her hole, making her let out a tiny whimper as she clenches around nothing with the sudden loss of his touch. Harry brings his finger up to his mouth, and his pink tongue darts out to lick, mouth closing around to devour the slightly salty slickness.

“Can I fuck you now?” He asks as his hand goes to stroke the side of her neck, goosebumps appearing immediately at the touch. She shudders, unable to respond and Harry’s voice is softer this time, “Can I, baby? Will you let me fuck your pretty pussy now? I need it so bad, sweetheart, so fucking bad. See how hard I am for you? So fucking hard for you, baby.”

“God,” another shaky breath, “Please, I’m so wet and horny- I need it, Harry, please.”

“Need my cock, yeah? Need me to fill that little hole? Stretch your tiny little hole, darling?”

“Fuck- please, I- please stop teasing me, I need it...please, fuck me.”

Harry feels something, a prickly sensation inside him, his groin tightening, and he knows it’s her dirty mouth and sweet face to blame. He looks down at his cock, hard as rock between his legs, and grabs her by the waist, pulling her on top of him with ease. “There, sweet girl.”

He lets out a hiss when her warm pussy makes contact with his cock and she bites her lip, leaning forward until their sweaty foreheads meet. “Your pussy’s so fuckin’ warm. Shit, we need condoms,” a strong arm wraps around her waist and she gasps when he leans forward so suddenly. His face is buried into her boobs as he tries to retrieve his wallet from one of the compartments in between and she watches him struggle, unable to control a tiny laugh escaping her mouth.

“Well,” Harry mumbles, warm lips making her skin feel all tingly, “This is lovely...mmm,” a few kisses are pressed between her boobs, then another open mouth one on her left nipple, and they’re finally back to their previous position, condom package between Harry’s lips as he rips the top, never once taking his eyes off of her while doing so.

“Ready for me?” He gives himself a few lazy pulls, thumbing at the tip while she watches, one hand kneading her boob. “Hm? Ready to take my cock?” He moves his hand slowly, up and down, causing her to swallow.

“Yeah...fuck yeah. Please, fuck me.”

He looks up at her as the rubber works its way down his cock, and she joins her arms around his neck, fingers playing with the hairs at the nape of his neck, and he brings his cock to her cunt, earning a moan from her, her warm breath licking at his face ever so softly. He grunts, voice strained with pleasure when he feels how warm and wet she is at the touch of his cock and slides it against her warmth before he brings it down to her tight little hole and pauses there.

“Y’ready, sweet girl?” He nudges their foreheads together and it’s sweet, so sweet despite the position they’re in, and she nods, feeling their damp foreheads stick together, and Harry gives her a bright smile, dimple appearing on his left cheek.

And he pushes it in. With his thumb pressed against the tip, he pushes his cock inside her, the tightness squeezing his already sensitive cock as if she doesn’t want to let him go, as if she wants to keep him inside of her forever and ever.

“God, such a tight cunt, baby. Squeezing me already, hm?” He murmurs into her mouth, “Easy, darling...slow. Slow, yeah? Want to feel you properly,” his hands go up to her hips, holding her there to still the movement of her hips, and her arms loop around his sweaty neck, fingernails scratching the back of his neck and he hisses, face moving forward to press a bruising kiss on her parted mouth.

Once she calms down, hips stilled, his strong arms begin moving her up and down and they both moan, quick breaths leaving their mouths and mixing together just like how their bodies are almost joined together, two becoming one, and Harry starts moving his own hips so he can fuck into her as she helps her by moving her own hips up and down, slowly, just like he’d asked her to, feeling his cock stretching her tight hole with his every move. There’s a honking outside and both their movements still for a second, and a muffled chuckle leaves her mouth, arms tightening around Harry’s neck.

Their eyes meet, Harry’s mouth turning upwards, “What’s so funny, Miss Giggles, hm?” He murmurs as his hips speed up again, their skins slapping against each other as his cock strokes the insides of her walls ever so softly, sliding in and out of her.

“Jesus, you’re so fucking big, I- I knew you’d be big but...fuck, you’re so good, so fucking good, Harry,” she moans, earning a grunt from him as she meets his thrusts, her hands sliding down to Harry’s shoulders and squeezing his smooth skin briefly before she brings her palms down to her chest.

She strokes the hair on his chest, admiring the way his cross necklace sits proudly there, amongst his now damp chest hair, and she brings her palm to one of his nipples, thumb stroking the slightly darker nub and he lets out a groan as goosebumps appear on his chest and nipples.

“God,” she breathes and Harry can smell the fruity-sour alcohol on her breath, and his mouth pops open when she tweaks his sensitive nipples. “I love your nipples,” she moans again when his cock brushes that sweet spot inside her and he does too, arms tightening around her waist, and she tweaks his nipples again, this time harder as her hips speed up, ass slapping against his meaty thighs and she keeps jumps up on down on his cock.

As she does so, her boobs too move, bouncing up and down with her every movement and Harry reaches with one hand, capturing one of her nipples between his fingers as he tweaks left and right before letting it go, watching her skin prickle at the touch.

“Shit, y’feel amazing, just wanna keep you forever,” he groans, low and delirious, fingernails digging into her waist as he thrusts into her, “So fuckin’ tight around me...so tight and snug. I want you- want this everyday. Wanna be able to touch you, kiss that little face everyday, fuck this beautiful pussy...so good, darling, you’re so fuckin’ good, letting me fuck that sweet cunt in the backseat, hm? Are you good,” he breathes her name into her mouth, then bites her bottom lip, earning a gasp from her when his thrusts become particularly rough. “Are you a good girl?”

“Yes, yes, yes, I’m good, I’m so good, please- I’m gonna cum, I’m gonna fucking cum please keep fucking me, keep fucking me hard, Harry- keep going,” she speeds up her movements, Harry’s cock sliding in and out of her as wet, dirty sounds fill the car and he curses under his breath, hips lifting off the seat to meet her strokes.

“Are you close?” He manages to ask, a low grunt in his voice.

She doesn’t respond. Instead, she brings one hand down to her pussy and begins rubbing her clit, moaning when she touches the little nub and then, with her other hand, she reaches for Harry’s face, thumb stroking the side of the smooth skin before she places it on his bottom lip and presses hard, making him part his mouth. She pushes it in, eyes lulling shut at the feeling of his warm tongue as he sucks on her thumb, hips continuing their movements as he fucks her cunt with quick, rough thrusts.

When she opens her eyes, Harry’s watching her, sweat glistening on his forehead and she brings her finger down to where Harry’s cock meets her warmth and rubs the top of his cock, moaning when she feels the vein there. She brings it up to her clit again, all wet and warm, and she rubs harder with rough strokes as Harry juts his hips forward a few more times. “I’m gonna cum, fuck- I’m gonna fuckin’ cum, baby,” his grip tightens on her waist and she places her hands on his shoulder, squeezing there.

“Come on me, I want it on my tits,” she mutters, fingernails digging into the smooth skin of his shoulders and he lets out a grunt, pulling out quickly as she gets down, Harry’s legs parting immediately so she can get between them.

And she does, gets on her knees between Harry’s parted legs as he takes the condom off, hissing at the feeling as he tosses it somewhere on the floor, and he begins stroking his now-wet cock as she thumbs at her nipples, kneading her boobs before pushing them together. His wrist works harder and quicker at the sight and he finally comes undone, his warm cum spilling onto her boobs, decorating her soft flesh with white stripes and she looks down, watching with sparkling eyes.

“God, fuck,” he breathes, letting his head tilt back, “You’re something else, y’know that?”

She hums, sending him a grin as he gives himself three more lazy strokes before he lets go of his cock and watches the spattered cum against her skin separate with the movement when she lets them go.

“Got some on your top, sorry, love.”

She looks down, then swipes a thumb across her skin and brings it up to her mouth. Pushing it in, she sucks around her digit as she tastes the salty-sour taste and Harry watches, all wrecked and fucked out.

“It’s fine, don’t worry about it.”

“You’re so naughty...come up here,” his ring-clad fingers reach for her wrist and he helps her sit next to him.

He reaches the little pocket behind one of the seats, taking out some tissues as she watches him take out a few and clean her up as much as he can. Then their eyes meet, both sleepy and wrecked, and he lifts his hand up to her cheek, stroking it, and she leans into the touch, making him smile. “You’re lovely,” he mumbles, hand still on her cheek.

“You’re lovelier.”

He chuckles as she fixes her top, “You really are. Really lovely.”

“Stop it, I’m not good with compliments.”

“Well,” he shrugs, reaching for his trousers on the front seat, “I said what I said. You hungry? Thirsty?”

“I’m kinda thirsty. Aren’t you?”

As they lean against the bonnet of Harry’s car, now parked outside a McDonald’s, there’s a comfortable silence between them as they sip their waters, bodies close to each other, close enough for Harry to smell his faint cologne on her skin.

“You cold still?” He turns to her as she takes a bite of her chocolate muffin, and he follows as a few crumbs land on her chest.

“I’m good. Feel very warm...ed up,” she chuckles, thumbing at the corners of her mouth.

Harry groans, nudging her with his shoulders and she nudges back, harder, and he gasps, “Oi, be nice. I’m feeding you.”

“Soz. Guess I owe you like...what is it, a fiver?”

“You’re a very mean girl.”

“I’m the nicest. I’m good,” she gives him a grin, earning another eye roll from him as she takes another sip of her water before placing it on the floor, “Seriously though, thanks for the muffin.”

“Don’t mention it. I’m kinda bummed you turned down the nuggets but…maybe next time?”

“Next time?” She asks, crossing her arms, trying to warm herself up despite her promise from earlier.

“Well,” he clears his throat, hand going up to his necklace, “I’d love to see you sometime. Again. Preferably for longer than an hour and...you know, just us two? Hanging out?”

She smiles and leans forward, taking him by surprise when she presses their lips together. It’s a sweet, slow kiss, and his hands grab the back of her neck, pressing their faces closer as they kiss. Her hands find his waist and she gets on her feet, coming to stand between his legs without breaking their kiss, and she loops her arms around his neck, smiling when he moans at the feeling of her fingers playing with the hairs at the nape of his neck.

He tastes the muffin, the chocolate, and himself, and as foolish as it sounds, he wishes there was a way to be closer to her somehow, closer than they already are at this moment. She pulls away, their foreheads pressing together as they smile at each other.

Harry scrunches his nose and smiles, bringing it forward so their noses touch, “What was that for?” He whispers, hands tight around her waist as he hugs her closer.

“Just felt like it...just felt like kissing you.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. I like kissing you. I liked kissing you a lot tonight.”

He smiles, nose booping against hers once again, “I liked kissing you a lot too. I’d like to kiss you a lot tomorrow. And maybe the day after that.”

“That’s fine by me. You can kiss me tomorrow...and the day after that,” she whispers, pressing their bodies together.

Harry closes his eyes, taking a deep breath as she watches with curious gaze, eyes crinkling with a smile.

“What are you doing,” she whispers, and he shushes her, smiling when he opens his eyes to find her staring with her eyebrows raised, “What are you doing?” She asks again and he squeezes her waist, forehead pressing against her once again and he leans in closer to press a tiny kiss on the corner of her mouth.

“I’m listening,” he whispers, lips almost touching hers as he speaks.

“Listening? What are you listening to?”

He strokes her cheek, “A song.”

She raises her eyebrow again, “What song? I can’t hear it. Are you- you’re not actually serious, are you?”

“Ssh, it’s a song. Listen,”

“Har-ry,” she groans, pressing her forehead on the crook of his neck, “What is it?”

Harry smiles, arms hugging her closer as she presses a tiny kiss to the side of his neck, “Aubade.”

SEND ME YOUR THOUGHTS ABOUT AUBADE AND PLEASE REBLOG THE FICS YOU’VE READ AND ENJOYED TO SUPPORT AND MOTIVATE WRITERS <3

#harry styles #harry styles imagine #harry styles smut #harry styles fluff #harry styles x reader #harry styles one shot #harry styles x y/n

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iamanartichoke · 3 years ago

Note

Fic prompt: If you feel like doing another hurt/comfort with Mobius, I would love a version of that end scene where Loki's freaking out but it actually is our Mobius. So Mobius listens to everything Loki has to say, and then they just kind of...take a breath, I suppose, before whatever they're going to do to fight Kang - perhaps Loki gets some tea, and/or an actual meal, a little sleep maybe (has he eaten since that cake on the train or slept since that brief nap in ep 2??), or whatever comfort-y stuff you want - I just need that sweet fic healing lmao.

@scintillatingshortgirl19 Thank you for the prompt and I hope you like it! <3

Summary: Takes place at the end of episode 6, where instead of saying "Who are you?" Mobius knows Loki and they pick up from where they left off in the void. Word Count: 1956 Author’s notes: I'm not feeling super confident with these prompts, so please don't judge me bear with me as I dust off my little writer-brain gears and try to find my footing with these new characters and characterizations.

Completed prompts.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Mobius is saying, holding his hands up, but Loki can’t stop talking. The words are spilling from him; he’s tripping over them, and from the look on Mobius’s face Loki knows he’s not making sense, but still, he can’t stop.

“He’s set on war,” Loki babbles. “We need to prepare, Mobius.”

“Hang on.” When Loki pauses to take a breath, Mobius reaches out and places his hands on Loki’s shoulders. It’s almost comical, the way he needs to reach, as Loki towers over him. Yet Loki feels very small, too, and doesn’t protest the contact. “You’re speaking faster than my brain can process words. Breathe, okay? Start at the beginning.”

Loki doesn’t know when the beginning was. It could have been the moment he’d leapt up and grabbed Sylvie’s arm before she could land a fatal blow to their enemy; it could have been all those days (or months, or hours, Loki has no idea; time, for him, has completely ceased to exist) ago that he’d landed in a Midgardian desert and the TVA immediately swarmed upon him.

“You’re not understanding me.” Frustration colors Loki’s tone. “There’s no time to stop; he’s - they’re - coming.”

“You’re right, I’m not understanding you.” Mobius lets go of Loki’s shoulders and rubs the back of his neck. “I want to, but you gotta slow down and fill me in, okay?”

“Maybe we should take him somewhere,” says B-15. Loki had barely noticed her but now he steps back, his gaze flicking from her to Mobius, taking in the confusion on both of their faces.

“You don’t look so good,” B-15 adds, taking in Loki’s appearance. He must be a sight, he realizes; his hair is matted and tangled and he feels grimy, his skin caked with so much dirt and blood from injuries he doesn’t remember getting.

But, what difference does it make? Loki turns back to Mobius, desperate. “Mobius, listen to me. Sylvie and I -”

“Come on.” Mobius cuts him off. He moves in, taking one of Loki’s arms. “You can tell me everything, okay, Loki? I just need you to calm down and to come with me, preferably before you pass out. Hauling around a five hundred pound demigod wasn’t on my to-do list today.”

Loki bites back a sharp retort. He’s vaguely aware of B-15 taking his other arm, and it’s only once Loki’s shoulders slump and he allows himself to be led away from the shelves that the exhaustion hits him. He’s been running high on adrenaline for hours, and now that he’s moving slowly, supported on either side, all of that energy seems to drain from him at once. His knees buckle.

“Careful,” Mobius says. Were it not for him and B-15 holding him up, Loki is certain he would have collapsed. He squeezes his eyes shut and focuses on placing one foot in front of the other, not caring where they’re going. The archives, the time theater, one place is the same as another.

They move through halls that are bustling with activity, minutemen running and disembodied voices crackling over speakers. They don’t know it’s pointless, no amount of hunters in the field will matter or make a difference.

He thinks he says so, or perhaps he just imagines he does. Neither Mobius nor B-15 acknowledge him, at any rate; they only keep moving and after awhile, they arrive at the dormitories, where Loki has not been since the first day Mobius brought him here as an official TVA employee.

“Why are we here?” Loki asks, confused.

“So you can get a shower and a change of clothes,” Mobius says simply, “and then we can have some coffee and you can tell me what happened after the void.”

Loki sighs, and then nods, resisting the urge to insist that everything else could wait (until when?), because Mobius isn’t understanding the precariousness of the situation, but he knows it won’t do any good.

“Fine,” he says instead, giving up. The sooner he does what Mobius asks, the sooner Mobius will listen.

He’d not realized just how badly he needed that shower and change of clothes until he’s scrubbed the dirt and blood from his skin and allowed the hot water to beat over his sore muscles and rapidly-forming bruises. For lack of anything else to wear, he puts on a clean suit, fastening the cuffs firmly around his wrists and buttoning the collar up to his neck.

He’s sick of this outfit; he never wants to see it again but, without his magic, he has no other choice.

In the dormitory kitchen, Mobius is brewing a pot of coffee. He looks up when Loki walks in, and his mouth quirks in a half smile. “Better,” he says, “but you could still probably use some sleep and a meal.”

“Stop fussing,” Loki snaps, irritated with Mobius’s sudden desire to hover over him like a governess hovering over a petulant child who won’t eat his peas. “I hate coffee, by the way.”

“You’ve never had my coffee,” Mobius retorts, sounding unbothered. “Just sit down, okay? You still look like hell, is my point. When’s the last time anyone fussed over you, anyway?”

Loki makes a scoffing noise as he drops down into a chair at one of the small kitchen tables. “I’m sure my mother did at some point, I don’t remember.” Actually, he remembers very well that it was always his mother who looked after him when he was sick or tired or lonely, until he’d grown too old to allow himself to seek her out for comfort.

But he doesn’t want to think of his mother, who is lost to him and perhaps lost to the real Loki as well, the sacred timeline’s Loki, if enough time has progressed and Malekith has indeed run her through with a sword and left her bleeding out on the palace floor.

Loki shudders as he thinks of it, remembering the sight of his mother’s lifeless body projected onto a screen. He’d been helpless to stop it, utterly powerless, just as ultimately he’d been powerless to stop Sylvie.

His mother, dead. Sylvie, lost to him. The timeline destroyed - the end of everything. The weight of it all crashes over him; had he not already been sitting, the sheer despair of it would have brought him to his knees.

Loki drops his head into his hands instead, thinking back to Mobius’s words that first day: you were born to cause pain and suffering and death.

In retrospect, Loki knows that Mobius was merely fighting dirty, using whatever words necessary to break Loki down - the ends justify the means, and all that - but he wasn’t goddamn wrong.

How could Loki have ever believed, even for a second, that he could possibly change?

We write our own destinies now, he’d told that creepy little clock hologram, and she’d smirked, seen right through the words because they were rubbish and they both knew it.

Good luck with that.

Loki doesn’t realize he’s crying until Mobius sets down a steaming mug of coffee in front of him. He lifts his head and rubs tiredly at his tear-stained cheeks, unable to meet Mobius’s gaze as Mobius sits down across from him with his own mug.

“Here,” Mobius adds, reaching into his inside blazer pocket. He pulls out a slim, red candy stick wrapped in plastic and hands that to Loki as well.

Loki stares at it. “What is this?”

“Something better than grapes or nuts,” Mobius says dryly. “It’s a Twizzler. Popular Earth candy. I’d say don’t tell anyone I’ve stashed a bunch, but …” He trails off and shrugs, glancing around at the kitchen with forced amusement. “Doesn’t really matter anymore, does it?”

He pulls out a second Twizzler and unwraps the plastic, then bites into the candy. Loki watches him for a moment, and then imitates him. “Gross,” he says, after he’s taken a bite. It’s a very bland candy, with texture not unlike rubber. “Think I prefer grapes.”

“Well, maybe Twizzlers are an acquired taste,” says Mobius.

Loki finishes the Twizzler anyway, and then takes a sip of coffee. He does usually dislike coffee, but either he’s hungrier than he’d realized or Mobius has a gift, because this cup is actually quite good.

“Okay, now let’s go back to the beginning,” Mobius prompts, after a silence. He drums his fingertips against the table. “What happened? I’m assuming you were able to enchant the murder cloud?”

All of the words that had been spilling from Loki’s lips before, so desperate to be released, now get stuck somewhere in his throat. He wraps his hands around his mug and takes another sip of coffee, wondering idly how long it had been since he’d actually had something warm to drink. Or eat, for that matter. The train on Lamentis, perhaps. A moment ago, a lifetime ago.

“We did,” he finally says. Despite the coffee, a chill breaks out over his skin and he sets the mug down, choosing to fold his arms as if to fold into himself for warmth. “We made it past Alioth and found him - the one who’s responsible for all of this.”

Just like that, the words are no longer stuck. Loki pours out the entire story, starting from when he and Sylvie had crossed the threshold into the citadel and ending with his own tumble back through the tempad’s portal into the TVA.

But he omits the kiss, only mentioning that Sylvie had distracted him to get the upper hand. He’ll never speak of it - either that Sylvie had used his feelings for her in order to betray him, or that he’d fallen for it (of course he’d fallen for it; for a few seconds there, he’d let himself believe - but, it doesn’t matter, it wasn’t real, and there are bigger problems now).

“She closed the portal before I could get back through it,” Loki says. He notices that he’s twisting his fingers together so tightly that his knuckles are turning white. He forces himself to stop. “I can only imagine she finished the job after that because, well.” He barks a laugh that sounds, even to his own ears, broken and pathetic. He used to be so good at maintaining a cool, calm facade but it, like so many other things, had been steadily breaking apart, piece by piece. There is very little left to guard the scared little ice runt who trembles at the core.

“Look at the timeline,” he adds; he laughs again and rubs his eyes against a fresh wave of tears.

For a long time, neither of them say anything. Loki finishes his coffee and Mobius eats two more Twizzlers before another word is spoken.

“So we lost.” Mobius’s voice is hollow. “We lost before we could begin to fight.”

“I’m sorry.”

Mobius shrugs. He runs a hand over his short, gray hair before letting out a laugh of his own. “He Who Remains,” he repeats, more to himself than to Loki.

Loki allows a beat to pass. “We have to try to fix it, Mobius.” The only way to ease the weight of his guilt, Loki knows, is if he goes back and tries to make it right - or to die trying.

“How are we supposed to do that?” It’s Mobius’s turn to rub his eyes. His shoulders slump and for a moment, he looks very tired. Older. Loki studies him and wonders, fleetingly, if the real Mobius is someone’s father. “I don’t even know where to begin, Loki.”

“I might.” Loki straightens. Deep down, beneath the anguish, a seed of determination has taken hold and he focuses on that; a lifeline. “But you’ll need to trust me.”

#charlotte writes #follower celebration prompt series #loki series spoilers #loki spoilers #loki tv series spoilers #loki series positive #loki + mobius (platonic)#hurt/comfort #validatemepls #i was listening to the titanic soundtrack as i wrote this lmfao

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a-trying-writer · 2 years ago

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[[ appearance - short hh fic. please don’t reblog, but liking is fine. wrote in a short time because i was bored, inspired by the one poster the creator of hh made. haha~. ]]

“I truly have a handsome lure, with how you keep staring at me like that, Cat,” Maison said, as he looked at her from the corner of his eye.

“Beauty is in the eye of the beholder, Maison,” she replied with a smirk, “but I do admit, you do look good. Your beauty marks adds some charm.” She raised her hand to press them against the light brown dots in the corner of his lips, while gazing at the others on his temple. “Hard to believe you were actually ‘born’ like this.”

“Us REALTORs can’t exactly pick and choose our appearance, but its our charisma that matters the most in the end.”

“I nearly did get caught by one or two during work, so I know what you mean. By the way, you didn’t tell me you modeled before.”

“Ah, so you’ve seen the posters!” He tugged his bright red blazer with a smug smile. “My lure’s skin being the biggest inspiration for fashion is one of my proudest achievements!”

“Is that so? You got to tell me about the other things you’re proud of.”

#writing stuff #hh fic

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saturnsummer · 3 years ago

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i don't mind forever.

AU: When Sol is handed a case, she doesn't realise how big the case gets. Luckily for her, her best friend is here. (AU of lawyers at Hankuk Law Firm.)

notes: all credits go to @thenerdywriter !! she gave me this prompt just days after i joined tumblr, and i’ve been working on and off on it ever since. my first au series, so please go easy on me! i know i’m practically killing myself for doing two series at once, but i’ll deal with it later. as always, big love to everyone! any grammar mistakes and all will be taken fully responsible by me!

ao3 link

words: 4035 words

one.

Sol scrunches her hair in frustration. She twists her long, wavy light brown hair in a bun, fixing it with a jab of her white, long chopstick hairpin. She adjusts her bangs for good measure and resumes with her report. She reaches over to her coffee mug, only to find it empty. Great, it’s the third coffee she had today, and it wasn’t even lunch. Hearing her colleagues nagging on drinking too much coffee in her head, she stands from her desk and pushes the glass door of her office to the staff pantry. Her heels click against the marble floors as she strides across, filling her cup with iced water before retreating back.

It would have been a normal day at the Hankuk Law firm, but it wasn’t when she had such a pressing case.

It's been weeks. A client of hers has pressed charges against Lee Man Ho, claiming that he scammed her life savings. Lee Manho was a convict that was charged for raping multiple women and on several occasions, sexual harassment. He had been on good behaviour after his release for a couple of years, with no complaints and no news. Only now did his name resurface. He was snarky in his speech, manipulative and quick with his tongue, but most of all had a sinister smile that sent shivers.

Sol, being Sol, couldn’t say no to the poor woman. How could she? She experienced her fair share of poverty from growing up in a single-parent family that made enough to get by. She sympathised with her feelings, knowing just how stressed this poor mother must be when she can no longer afford to pay rent for her home, even less so the necessities for her toddler kids. Because, too many times, Sol was found broke and skipping meals so she could have her younger sister, Byeol, be fed instead.

With the help of the local police, she found more victims to be scammed, all similar in their scenario. Manho would call under the alias of a financial aid consultant, sometimes an insurance agent or bank teller. Then, he would extract their bank numbers from them, effectively draining their money away. By the time they victims tried to call back, the number would be out of order, or picked up by another voice, evident that he used another number to cover up his.

None of his victims had anything in common. Some were rich, some were poor. Some were female, some were male. And Manho had long disappeared in the wind the moment he got out of jail. He was said to be sighted once and when the police placed eyes on him, they lost him that same day.

His digital footprint was an utter headache as well. The police had other things to matter, and figuring out his digital footprint was the least of their concerns when they had important murders and urgent matters to solve.

But two could play this game.

Seungjae was a good friend of Sol’s. They were close acquaintances in school and kept in close contact. He, unlike Sol, was a whiz with computer codes and had his fair share of hacking experience. She remembers how he would hack into the system during school events and broadcast short music videos on the school televisions during breaks. Despite their age gap, he was always courteous, nice and kind hearted in helping others.

Seungjae eventually found a job with the police force, using his skills to legally hack criminal networks and dark nets. He was essentially part of a task force that identified suspicious activities like mass radicalisation, fake news and essentially tracking down internet hackers. It was a no-brainer that Sol would approach him, even though she knew that he could only legally hack under his work orders, not for personal favours.

Well it’s best she at least try.

She called Seungjae, who was fortunately free, and agreed to meet at a cafe. The sun was out, warming them from the autumn breeze that chilled them. Sol grabbed her coat and placed a post-it on her door, informing her colleagues of her business. Sol, while dressed in a warm coat, was undoubtedly freezing from the breeze. If only she could go back to law school, where she wore jeans and sweatshirts all day. Instead, she had a light blue long sleeved blouse, a knee length pencil skirt and a midnight blue blazer, and her only coat she had weakly shielding her from the cold.

“Sol A, what gives me the feeling that you aren’t calling for the purpose of catching up, but for a favour?” Seungjae asks as soon as his ice coffee arrives. Sol is amused at his habit, that he still calls her Sol A to differentiate her from Sol B, her colleague just working next door to her. But in response, she gives a small frown.

“Oppa, please? You have to help me with this. This case is driving me nuts!” She says in frustration as she stirs her ice tea. “Look, he’s off the grid, like properly off. I can’t even track his number or his email accounts. When the police placed plainclothes on him, he was like a ninja and they lost him within the first hour.”

Seungjae’s frown deepens. He knows of people who are good on the internet, but for an ex-convict to be running this alone? Furthermore, a convict who had no criminal record of scamming, conning and IT based crimes? There was definitely more to this.

“Sol A, do you think that he’s working alone?” Seungjae asks, stopping Sol in her speech. She tilts her head, the way she does normally when she puts the puzzle pieces in order. From her bag, she takes out a notebook and scribbles down the facts, then pushes it to the centre of the table.

“Okay, so we know that Lee Manho was convicted of rape and sexual harassment long time ago. Now, he’s running scams, and has no known background of coding or conning people, yet somehow the money appears in his bank account and it disappears the next moment.” Sol states as she circles her notes with a pencil and Seungjae nods.

“I think… I think you’re right, oppa. He’s definitely not working alone. And he could just be the middleman bringing the cash from one place to another.” Sol breaths out, realising how big the case has gotten. She’s not just going after Lee Manho, but she’s going after an entire team.

“You said that you can’t track his whereabouts, people he communicates with and where the money is going to?” SeungJae asks. Sol nods.

“Looks like someone is covering up the transfers and his tracks.” Seungjae concludes. Seungjae furrows his eyebrows. Sol recognises his thinking face and tries to plea once more.

“Please, oppa? You helped me check out and verify Yeseul’s boyfriend, which saved her life! Please, oppa…” Sol pleads with him. Seungjae knew how much Sol was going to dedicate to this, and besides, he was legally going to hack. He was fighting for those who couldn’t fight. What difference would it make? It felt wrong to ignore such a desperate plea.

“Fine. But you have to let me use a laptop that isn’t mine. I can’t have my superiors know I’m hacking into a case that wasn’t submitted to me again. God, Yeseul’s ex-boyfriend case got me a bloody earful from the captain.” He finally agrees, getting up from his seat and grabbing his coat. Sol lets out a relieved sigh and picks her coat too.

“Thank you, thank you!”

“Save it for later, when I’m done hacking. Let’s head back to your office for now.” He says and walks to the door. At that moment, Sol’s phone rings, and she picks up, knowing who will call at this time of the day. If it’s lunch, it has to either be Yeseul or Joon Hwi.

“Are you joining us for lunch, sunbae?” Sol takes a moment to close her eyes in frustration. This man is going to drive her insane.

“Yeah. Are you all ordering?”

“That’s right. Extra pickles?”

“Always. Add one more jjampong and kkampungi, too.” The receiving end goes silent.

“Who’s joining?” Sol gives a knowing smile as she unlocks her car.

“An old friend of ours.”

-----

“Wah, it’s been a long time since Seungjae-hyung could eat with us!” BokGi says, as he passes out the chopsticks and Yebeom unpacks the meals. Seungjae only gives a small smile while helping out with the food.

Despite the cold weather, the odd group of friends found pleasure in eating outdoors as opposed to their office pantry. It was too noisy some days, too quiet on some, and knowing how chaotic the group can get during lunch, it only made sense to have their meals downstairs at some benches. Besides, they could use a break from being stuck in their offices all day and look at trees changing their colours to shades of red, oranges and brown.

“Thank your noona here, for convincing me to come.” He says as he nods his head over to Sol, who is busy unpacking her pickles and noodles. Joon Hwi gives a smile as he stares at the delight on her face when she sees those yellow pickles on a plastic saucer.

“Hyung, what are you here for?” Joon Hwi asks, as he unpacks his noodles.

“This lady here has enlisted my help once again for a case she is working on. But it has to be off the books. Thus, my presence here instead of my cubicle back at my headquarters.” Sol chokes and she quickly takes a sip of her tea.

“Oppa, why do you make me sound so law breaking…” Sol grumbles. Yeseul, sitting next to her only gives a small smile and squeezes her hand.

“Seungjae-oppa did help me bring Yeongchang to jail. So I would consider his work, whether under his boss orders or not, to be lawful.” Yeseul quips quietly. The table grows silent for a moment, knowing how this topic took a mental toll out of them, but Yeseul was hit the hardest.

When Yeseul first started dating Yeongchang, everyone didn’t mind it. Only when Sol witnessed how Yeseul would be frightened to pick up his call and spotting bruises on her arms did she get Seungjae to dig into his personal life. Lo and behold, not only was he abusive, he was seeing two other women and they were treated badly, if not, worse.

Yeseul’s heart broke, this being her first love and the man she envisioned marrying. But with her friends' support, she took it upon herself to press charges on him, for the women he tortured and for herself. Representing herself and the women that he had failed to protect and taken advantage of, it wasn’t easy for her, having been so blind in love and still harbouring feelings.

The group stood by and silently supported. They accompanied her trials, no matter how busy they were. Sol remembers Jiho running from one courtroom to another on one occasion when he had to immediately attend a court hearing for a client he was defending. Sol had Yeseul stay over at her apartment during the entire situation, while Yeseul searched for an apartment nearby after moving out of his house. Even Sol B, who was usually cold, bought her meals and stayed to eat when the girls spent late nights in silence and drinking.

Finally, the judge ruled that Yeongchang was to be charged in jail. For the sexual, mental and physical abuse of these women, including Yeseul. It has been months since then and time can only tell how much she has healed. The rest can only give their silent support and be there for her.

“I didn’t mean to make the mood bad. Come, let’s eat. Also, what is the case about, unnie?” Yeseul quickly breaks into a smile, an attempt to let everyone know she’s okay. Sol gives a brief description of her case to everyone while she slurps her noodles and pickles.

“This is going to be difficult. If you guys are right, you might be dealing with something bigger than just Lee Manho.” Sol B states and Sol gives a nodded reply.

“Please don’t tell Superior Kim or Superior Yang about this. I really need to break this case and Seungjae-oppa is my only way to.” Sol informs her group. They give half hearted murmurs, not wanting to be meddled into Sol’s affairs. Well, all but one.

“Yah, why didn’t you come find me? I have my own contacts in the police as well.” Joon Hwi asks, a slight frown on his face. From anyone else looking, it would have been easy to miss. But for Sol, she knew that he was upset, interpreting his complaints as “Why didn’t you come and tell me about this first?”

“Because, Mr. Second Round Judicial Exam Pass, you have been too busy! Do I really need to remind you to eat every damm moment? You drive me crazy some days!” Sol argues. They launch into a light hearted argument, as the rest of the lunch group watches with equal fervour as they eat their meals.

“Guys, stop arguing, my ears hurt.” Jiho said, his tone in slight annoyance as he dove straight into the kkampungi and tangsuyuk. Sol finally gave up fighting, earning a teasing smirk from Joon Hwi. They continued their noisy meal, chatting and catching up with Seungjae. Seungjae gives them some updates of his pregnant wife and some interesting cases.

After their meal, they separated their trash neatly. The sun now hides away in the clouds, leaving little warmth against the chilly breeze of autumn. Sol brushes her coat and rubs her hands and arms. If only she could afford a better one than this old coat she’s been using since her first year in university.

Joon Hwi notices her trying to warm up against the cold and takes his coat from the chair, layering it on her. He honestly didn’t feel cold, but he knows he has always been the stronger one to resist against the cold. For Sol, it must be freezing.

“Take mine.” He simply says, taking the packs of plastic from Sol. If Sol had a hint of blush, he pretended to not notice.

“Oh, thanks.” She said as she took wipes from her bag and wiped down the mess on the benches and tables. “But I don’t need it. We’re heading back to the office anyway.” She shrugs his coat off and drapes it over her arm, returning it to him. He pushes it to her, and leans in closer to her.

“Help me carry it, so I don’t have to, sunbae.” He teases with a smirk, sending Sol in a fit of frustrated squeaks, chasing him as best as she can in her heels. Sol knows Joon Hwi gets a thing out of his teasing, and sends him annoyed glares as she continues to clear the tables. Jiho manages to sigh and Sol B rolls her eyes as she dumps the trash in the bins.

The group grabs their bags as they head back into the office, where Sol checks Seungjae in as a visitor at the reception. The receptionist hands him a blue lanyard with a visitor pass as Sol leads him to the elevators. Jiho and Bokgi are off to meet clients, and Sol B is headed to court for a hearing. Yeseul stops at another floor to her office with Yebeom, who needs to pick up some reports from a colleague.

Joon Hwi follows Sol to her office with Seungjae, despite his office being upstairs. Sol grabs her personal laptop from her bag, which is separate from her desktop computer and passes it to Seungjae, who takes a seat opposite her and starts programming the computer to begin hacking.

“What, did you just let him use your personal laptop?” Joon Hwi asks in concern as he takes a seat on a spare chair.

“Let him do it. Don’t you have your reports to do?” Sol asks as she turns to her own reports before typing in her findings for the new Lee Manho case. Joon Hwi doesn’t reply, and Sol sends an annoyed glance. He’s not going to leave unless he knows all the information of this case.

“Okay, I got it.” Seungjae says after a series of clicks and turns the screen to show Sol what he has found. Sol leans into a chart of bank transfers.

"From what I can tell, it seems like the money enters his bank account and is transferred to an offshore account. I can't trace where the money goes from there anymore." Seungjae explains as he uses the cursor to show them. "I can't tell who owns the account either. If I could take a guess, it's probably the mastermind of this."

"Wait, look. Lee Manho is getting paid a constant amount every single time before a large sum comes in and leaves." Joon Hwi points. Sol grabs her printed papers as she matches the amounts that her clients have given here. They match exactly to the large sums, but have no relation to the constant amount that he gets every scam.

"He's getting paid to scam? Tch, God, I hate this crook." Sol says through gritted teeth. Joon Hwi sighs and observes the anger rising in Sol. He places a hand on top of her clenched fist for comfort and her fist stops clenching as she sighs in response.

"Sol A, I can't track his location with your laptop. It's not exactly ideal, since it can be tracked back." Seungjae says, eyes darting while continuously typing. Joon Hwi could sense the disappointment in Sol's face, but it can't be helped. It was too dangerous from her location and IP address.

"Oppa, thank you for helping. I owe you one." Sol says as Seungjae scrubs her laptop clean from hacking traces. Seungjae returns her laptop and stands up. "You should go back, oppa. You've been gone too long."

"I'll keep you updated." He says as Sol guides him out of the office. Once she shuts the door, she pulls the hairpin from her hair and crunches her hair in frustration. She has the information on where the money is going, but it's no use when she can't find out where he is. Joon Hwi takes a seat opposite her.

"Don't stress." He says softly, and Sol bites her lip in frustration.

"Don't stress? How can I not? The police aren't giving me any information on him, delaying his location tracking! I can't even find him! How am I supposed to get evidence to charge him, if he can't even appear to show up to court?" Sol angrily spills, her hands flailing. Joon Hwi sighs but grabs a hold of her wrist.

"Don't get swayed by your emotions." Joon Hwi firmly says, sparingly into Sol's anger-filled eyes. She pulls her wrist back, taking a deep breath before gathering her hair up again.

"Fine." She grumbles. "Get out of my office, Prosecutor Han. Don't you have work?" This earns a soft smile from Joon Hwi. As he heads to the door, he turns back before he leaves.

"Don't... Don't do anything stupid or impulsive, you hear me?"

Sol clicks her tongue and gives a half-hearted nod. She turns back to her report and updates her findings and tries to diffuse the thought of asking Seungjae to hack with her laptop to find Man Ho's location.

For Kang Sol A, such thoughts don't leave easily.

-----

"You sure?" Seungjae asks, seated in Sol's car. Sol takes a deep breath in and nods.

It was a few days after Seungjae visited the office. Sol called the police as much as she could, but they always left her on the line or just said "we're working on it." Thus, Sol told Seungjae to meet her at a park, before driving to a random alley and passing him her laptop.

"Yeah, I'll take my chances." She replied. Seungjae sighs and begins typing away.

"You know you're putting yourself at risk?" He asks, eyes never leaving the screen.

"I'll put myself at risk for the justice of my clients." She says firmly. A few minutes pass as Sol stares out of the car and watches the bright moon and the clouds floating by in misty swirls.

"Got it." Sol turns her attention to Seungjae. On the screen is a map and a blinking red dot of Manho’s location. Sol reads the map and puts her car back in drive before turning out of the alley.

"Woah, do you know where you are going?" Seungjae asks, grabbing onto the overhead handle for support and his hand securing the laptop.

"Seungjae-oppa, don't tell anyone about this, okay? Especially not Joon Hwi." Sol ignores his question as she speeds up the car, turning into a drop-off point of a train station.

"Sol A, you're-"

"Sorry, oppa. But I need to find him. I can't sit and wait for the police anymore. I promise you, I'll be safe." Sol says. Seungjae couldn't say no. He knows how stubborn Sol is, how when she decides on something, she will commit to it wholeheartedly.

"If he's armed, you could get yourself in danger." Seungjae exasperatedly sighs. It was too big a risk to see the junior he treats as a little sister put herself at risk.

"I'll be fine. Look, you're on my speed dial. You know that I can handle myself. There's a reason why I took years of self-defence classes." Sol tells him. Seungjae nods his head unwillingly.

"You better call me after you're done." He says as he opens the door and gets out of the car. "Please, please stay safe." Sol nods and gives a small smile.

"Thank you, oppa." Sol drives away immediately, leaving Seungjae to pinch his nose bridge in frustration and concern. Silently, as he boards the train, he prays for Sol's safety.

-----

Sol knows the area well. As she parks her car at a carpark, she checks to make sure Manho is still at the bar. The blinking dot stays stagnant at the bar, not moving ever since she dropped Seungjae off. Getting out, she tightens her coat around her and thanks herself for the long trousers she's wearing. At least she isn't wearing a skirt, if she needs to beat someone up.

Entering the bar, she naturally takes a slow walk around. But hidden by the corner of the bar tables sit a lone man, with a cap, dressed in black button up and holding a glass of golden whiskey. She knew that was her target.

Taking a seat next to him, she orders a glass of soda water from the bartender. Man Ho chuckles next to her as he sets his glass down. Turning his head, he faces Sol with sly eyes, lips curled at the corner.

"Prosecutor Kang, you're quick." She hears him say and a chill goes down her spine. She lets her eyes meet the cold stare of Manho.

"Oh, you think I don't know you? You're the one after me more than the police are for the past weeks." Man Ho sinisterly says, a sick grin on his face. Sol grits her teeth and takes a deep breath to soothe her anger.

"Why are you doing this? You think it's fun?Watching my clients suffer?" Sol says through her gritted teeth. He only scoffs.

"My, my. Don't want you getting agitated now, don't we? We just started." He says, sipping from his glass again.

"Answer my question." She says with force. Man Ho sips on his glass, swirling the golden brown liquid against the large square cubes of ice as he exhales.

As the words fall from his mouth, Sol grows as cold as the glass in her hand. Her hands slightly shake as she hitches her breath. When her shaky eyes turn to Manho’s, his eyes are sly with a mocking grin. No, he can’t know.

"You’re just as feisty as your sister, aren’t you?”

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ms-indifferwnt · 4 years ago

Text

I'm Cold (Lee Donghyuck x Reader)

"I'm cold"

"And?"

"Can't you give me your jacket or something?"

"Can't you accept my proposal and marry me already?"

In which Prince Donghyuck's parents are forcing him to get married and he decided to propose to the first girl he sees to shut his parents up

Genre: Prince!Lee Donghyuck x Maid!Reader, Angst, Fluff, Arranged Marriage (kinda), Slowburn

Warnings: Curse words, Suggestive (I'll add more if there are)

Word Count: 2.6k

Notes: Chapter 2 of Im Cold. Dont be shy and drop and ask, I love answering them hehe

Prev / Chapter 2 / Next

"And she said No" Donghyuck huffed taking a swig of his alcohol, while the boy opposite him started laughing at the story, "Don't," he says pointing a finger at him "Don't laugh at me, Mark Lee"

He snorts and takes a sip of his drink before replying "Well you deserved it, did you think she'll agree?" he pints out and sighs, running his fingers through his hair "You're fortunate enough that she didn't refuse your advances in front of everyone"

Donghyuck groaned and glared at Mark "You're supposed to be on my side"

"I'm on nobody's side"

"What a lucky bitch nobody must be"

"Think about it, other than the maid of the royal family, she has a life of her own, with people she adores and people who adore her right back," he points at Prince Donghyuck's chest "You suddenly pulling that stunt, is only making it harder for her, so be a little bit more," he thinks of the right word "Sympathetic"

Hyuck nods, playing with the liquid in his glass as Mark stands up to leave "Don't leave me," Hyuck accuses "Stay here till the sun rises"

"And why should I do that?"

"Because if Jeno and Jaem find out they're going to yell at me, if Renjun finds out he'll laugh at me, Chenle and Jisung are underaged to drink and Lucas Hyung is talking to his Fiancé"

Mark raises an eyebrow unamused by the younger's words

"Y/n is asleep on my bed," he answers honestly this time, relenting to the older's stare "I told her to sleep there and made an excuse that my parents might walk in and wonder why she is asleep on the sofa, so I waited till she slept before leaving her there to rest, you know like a gentleman"

Mark hums and sits back down "And what do I have to do with this?"

"I can use you as an excuse as to why I'm not in the room"

"Ok," Mark rolls his eyes and nods "Then why ask me to come here at Eleven in the evening if you just wanted her to be alone in the bed?"

"She slept at Eleven!" He shot back "she was on her phone for two hours, giggling to herself, whoever she was talking to is making her all giddy"

"Maybe she has a boyfriend or talking to her friends how dumb their prince is," Mark added "that's why she wouldn't accept you, none the less, at least try to be a bit more considerate on how she is feeling"

"Morning" was the first thing Y/n heard when she woke up, don't get her wrong, she wakes up early cause of her job, but she also knows that the prince rises even earlier cause he loves the sunrise and when she opened her eyes that's where he was, by the window, letting the sun coat him in light making him glow, his black hair styled to perfection, his dress shirt wrapped snugly against his body, the tailor did a splendid job on this one, his trousers and unbuttoned blazer giving off a casual look. For a moment she sat there in awe, he was beautiful, absolutely breathtaking that it takes all her strength to look away "Go get ready, we're returning home after breakfast" he points at a dress beside the bed, that she hasn't noticed, and we have the prince to blame for that

The dress was a red, more pastel-like, giving off an innocent vibe, Off-shoulder vintage style is what she would describe it "What about that dress, Prince?"

"It's yours," He said and looked at her "If anyone asks tell them I gave it as a gift to you on your birthday" she blushes and shakes her head, opening her mouth to speak if only he didn't cut her off "Gifts are meant to be accepted, love, so accept the dress, it's yours now"

Just as he spoke a maid entered the room bowing to the prince "Your Highness," She faces Y/n and immediately recognizes her, it was one of the new maids in Prince Donghyuck's Kingdom, She remembers to cause this girl was supposed to be under her wing "Milady"

Y/n gasps and looks at the girl in shock "Hana" She says and shakes her head

The prince walks towards Hana, petting her hair, "Speak casually to her, it's alright" He smiles and nods at the dress "Take care of her, see you in the dining hall my love" he says, taking her hand to kiss her knuckles and leaves the room

Y/n looks at the younger maid who looks at her in awe "Pardon me for my rudeness, Milady,"

"Y/n is fine"

She smiles "Lady Y/n, you of all people know how loved the prince is" she squeals excitedly "everyone in the palace were so excited with the news, so many girls envy you you know"

Y/n smiles softly "The prince and I aren't really dating" she replied and shook her head

"Milady please don't be so modest," She says and stood up to take the dress "wow such a pretty dress," she breathed "Where did you get this Milady?"

She sighs and stood up "The Prince gave it to me" she replies and Hana immediately assisted her "I'm ok, you don't have to help me"

She pouts "It is my job"

Entering the dining hall all dressed up in the dress is Y/n's first, she looks at Prince Donghyuck who smiles and nods as Prince Jaemin stands to greet the new incomer

"Y/n" he smiles and takes her hand to kiss her knuckles "You look lovely," HE praises "Is that from Hyuck?" A shy nod leaves her and Prince Jaemin smiles slyly at the boy who was watching him and the girl, Jaemin raised a hand and waved him off, Yes, I know she's your bride I won't do anything, it meant.

But in all honesty, Prince Donghyuck was just watching to see if Jaemin was about to do anything that isn't approved by Y/n, he was just worried. She hasn't even agreed to marry him yet.

Prince Jaemin squeezes Y/n's hand so she'll look at him "Don't be shy Y/n," he replies and a smile coats his features "I'm sure Hyuck told you to wear that cause he was excited the secret is out and he can spoil you"

Y/n's eyes widened opening her mouth to speak but Prince Jaemin spoke first "He said this was a gift on your anniversary" he said excitedly leading her to her seat beside Prince Donghyuck

Prince Lucas nodded "What did you get him Y/n?

She was about to reply only to be spoken over by Prince Donghyuck "Can you not?" he asked Prince Lucas, wrapping a protective arm around her waist, making her flinch as he leans down to whisper in her ear making it look like he was keeping her close "Don't say a word"

She obeyed

Arriving at the palace a little before noon she was greeted by Maids and butlers, ready to assist Prince Donghyuck in whatever he might need

He holds her hand, "follow me" he instructed and lead her through the palace and people, "mother says this is your room now" he informs and sits on the bed

"My prince" she quickly denies and shakes her head "I cannot accept, this is insane"

He laughs and shakes his head "The room is yours, get some rest, my parents took the liberty to fill your closet" he replies and stands up against the door, his hand on the door "Get some sleep, you must've been stressed" he opens the door and leaves

Y/n watches him leave still not done disagreeing with The Royal Families instructions, it wasn't fair, she and the prince aren't dating, they're not engaged, she doesn't deserve this

She sits down on the bed to open the drawer on the white vanity beside her and gasped, in it were different designs of accessories, she couldn't help but become completely enchanted, taking them one by one to examine them.

A beautiful (birthstone) ring was the first thing she saw, taking it and examining it, watching the intricate details swirl and curve around the ring. Next, she saw a pretty and plane necklace, it was a diamond gem, a choker sized necklace that if she wore the gem being pressed right between her collar. While holding the necklace she stands, going to the closet to see the overwhelming amount of dresses, taking them out to carefully inspect and admire them placing one after the other on the soft mattress of the bed, finding comfort on the cold floor right at the floor of the bed, she leans her head against the matress as she thinks, I have to tell them.

She sighs softly, this was all new and stressful and even if the gifts were beautiful, she feels guilty, these weren't for her they were for Prince Donghyuck's Fiance, she frustratingly ran her fingers through her hair, and closed her eyes at the on coming headache

She didn't mean it, she only meant to close her eyes for a minute, to only rest for a couple of seconds, she didn't mean to be cooped up in the room for a two hour nap, she didn't mean to fall asleep still holding the necklace that when Prince Donghyuck entered to ask her if she wanted to accompany him only to see her asleep, she didn't mean for him to lift her and place her under the covers, she didn't mean for him to clean up the mess she made while she explored the room, she didn't even know it happened 'till she woke up

Opening her eyes and realizing that this wasn't where she fell asleep, she sat up in shock, what happened? who entered the room? Somebody cleaned up? She got cut from her thoughts when she noticed a letter on the vanity table from the prince herself

Dear Y/n,

I hope you didn't mind, I placed you on the bed, you'll get a stiff neck at the position you were on. Rest well, You deserved, the whole ordeal must've been stressful, I know you wanna talk to me, I have a free schedule later around 7 pm, eat dinner with me and lets talk

Lots of love,

Lee Donghyuck :)

Y/n's mouth drops open in shock, he was the one that placed her on the bed, did he clean to? please tell me the prince didn't clean up the mess she made. She stood up only to be greeted by Hana as she opens the door

"You're awake, Milady" She smiles and sorts through the closet before Y/n could even process what was happening "Prince Donghyuck has suggested this to be your outfit for the rest of the day Milady"

She blinks, "Um, no thank you, I'm ok with what I'm wearing" She says and moves to go out the door when Hana stops her

"Milady you can't be seen wearing the same thing twice," She reasons holding the dress up so she can see

Y/n examined the dress, it was simple more simple than the red vintage dress she was currently wearing, it was a long dress hat would reach her ankles, the material light and seemed light and cottony, sleeves reaching the wrists, and a cute bow by the collar. It was just a simple casual sundress that had its own belt, she nods and sighs "ok fine, I'll go change"

She walks through the halls of the palace, going to the tea room, where Hana has informed her where Prince Donghyuck was. Upon arriving she realized that not only was Prince Donghyuck in the room so was the Queen and someone she hasn't seen a long time

"Donghyuck where is Y/n?" the queen asks and looks by the door, making Y/n hide behind the door, "Should we fetch someone to get her?"

Donghyuck was quick to shake his head and deny his mother's suggestion "She's probably asleep let her rest"

The boy she hasn't seen in years smiled happily at the conversation "Hyuck sounds like a caring fiancé its amusing" he laughs and teases Doghyuck with a sly grin "is she the one wearing blue by the door way?"

Y/n froze around the same time, Prince Donghyuck and the queen turn their heads to look "Y/n?" Donghyuck asks

Revealing herself, cheeks slightly tinted red at being caught she bows in greeting "I'm sorry," she replies looking down in embarrassment

Prince Donghyuck stands to hold her hand and land a kiss on her knuckles "Don't be, my love" he says and leads her to sit beside him with her still frozen from the nickname and the action, "Did you sleep well?"

the boy from earlier giving her tea "I have honestly never seen Donghyuck so smitten," he teases and smiles at her "Nice to finally meet you, Lady Y/n"

She shakes her head and stands "No please, Lord Taeyong" she quickly denies "Don't address me by a title have no right over"

A smile lands on his lips "I like you" he says and pats Donghyuck's back "I approve if her, good job" he stands and bows "I'm afraid I shall keep you calling that Milady, it suits you" he winks and Donghyuck, gently pulls Y/n to sit down "Your Highness" Taeyong speaks to the Queen "After you, I think the two of them would like to have the room for themselves"

The queen giggled, nodding "Oh Taeyong, I was just about to suggest that, you're a lot like my brother in law has anyone ever told you that?"

"I'm afraid so, My Queen" he laughs "He is my father" was the last thing you could hear from the conversation before it faded away and into the hallway

Y/n wasn't paying attention to the Marquees or the Queen only to be focusing on the prince, his blazer long forgotten on the coat rack, but his simple french-cuffed-two-unbuttoned-buttons style was mesmerizing, she realized they have matching colored tops, she blushes slightly

"Are you still adamant about not marrying me?" he wakes her from her thoughts

She blinks then nods "Yes, this isn't meant for me, My Prince, this was for your Fiance and i can't take it"

He sighs and examines her "Two weeks"

"I'm sorry?"

"Give me two weeks of your time and after that I'll tell my mother myself"

"What? No, We have to tell her now"

"Listen, you said you don't want the royal family to suffer because I can't tell her I don't want tp get married yet, right?"

She bites her lip, not answering

"Right?"

"Yes" she whispers

"Then give me two weeks, to figure out a way to tell her how we broke up so you can be free and no one will ask why, and so I can use it as an excuse as to why I wont find a new bride anytime soon"

"What excuse, My Prince?"

"I'll be too busy trying to get over you to find one" he smiles and she tries her best to suppress the warmth of her cheeks at the sight

"That won't work"

"Better than the family getting ridiculed, so, will you give me two weeks my love?"

#7dream #chenle #donghyuck imagines #donghyuck x reader #haechan smut #jeno #jaemin #jisung #lucas #nct #nct127 #23nct #princeau #royal!haechan #royal7dream

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purrincess-chat · 3 years ago

Text

Marinette Dupain-Cheng’s Spite Playlist: Remix CH25

This chapter might look familiar to those of you who read the original ;) But there’s a twist!

Previous First Next AO3

Chapter 25: Attack of Panic

“Remember, class, pick a painting that inspires you. Your reports are due tomorrow, so be sure to take good notes while on your tours today.” Mme. Pierre instructed. “We’ll meet for lunch in the courtyard. Try to learn something today.”

Marinette took a deep breath as Mme. Pierre dismissed them. Eliott and Lisette grouped up, walking arm-in-arm a few paces ahead. After overcoming their shyness from Saturday’s date, they were practically inseparable. Marinette was happy for them, but it made her miss Adrien. Having a boyfriend at a different school was lonely. How did anyone manage long-distance relationships?

Macy linked their arms together, snapping Marinette out of her trance.

“Let’s walk around in a group,” she said, tugging Martin on her other side.

“Sure.” Marinette smiled.

At least she still had friends to walk with, so she wasn’t completely alone. Though she’d have to think of a way to branch off to give Martin time alone with Macy, but then who would she walk with?

Long red curls bounced up the hall ahead of them, and a smirk curled on Marinette’s lips.

“Let’s go this way first.” She suggested, tugging Macy in the direction Gabrielle had gone.

“Shouldn’t we invite Eliott and Lisette?” Martin asked.

“No way. They’re spending quality time together as a couple. They’ll meet up with us at lunch,” Macy said. “Speaking of couples, did you see Thomas’s new girlfriend? I heard he ditched little miss bankrupt as soon as he found out.” Macy pointed to Gabrielle who was jotting down notes in front of a painting.

“Macy, that’s mean.” Martin chided.

“So was she.” Macy huffed. “She used to torment you, shouldn’t you be laughing too?”

“Yeah, but I don’t think she deserves to be miserable,” he said. “She’s been a lot different lately, and I’ve forgiven her. You should too.”

“Aww, Martin.” Macy hugged his shoulders, turning the tips of his ears red. “You’re an angel, you know that?”

Marinette bit back a smile as he faltered, tuning into the museum guide’s explanation. A boy with bright red hair stood in front of her, jotting down notes around a doodle in his notebook. His drawing was pretty good, though the style reminded her of someone.

Wait. Marinette knew that tomato top. She blinked a few times to ensure she wasn’t imagining it.

Nathaniel?

Marinette spun around, frantically searching the exhibit. Kim was mimicking the pose of a statue for Max and Alix across the room. Myléne and Ivan were reading a placard, hands twined while Juleka and Rose studied a map.

“Looks like we took the same field trip.” She jumped at Adrien’s voice in her ear, and he placed a hand on the small of her back to steady her. “You okay?”

“I-”

“Marinette?” Her spine stiffened as Kim called out to her. “Guys, it’s Marinette!”

“Marinette!”

“Yo, what up?”

“I love your new hair.”

“We missed you.”

Marinette’s heart sank at Rose’s declaration, and her old classmates surrounded her with eager smiles. Her old friends. Some of them, anyway. Nathaniel hung back, refusing to meet her gaze—a reminder of how far Lila’s influence still stretched. Marinette’s stomach twisted in knots.

“I-” She bit her lip to hold back tears. “I missed you guys too.”

“Aww.” Everyone crowded in for a hug, complimenting her hair and filling her in on exciting developments since she’d left.

“Well, well, look who it is. Long time no see, Marinette.”

Marinette’s blood ran cold.

The atmosphere changed in an instant, the crowd around her parting at Lila’s voice. She wore the same smirk she always did, silently goading Marinette. To add insult, Alya stared right through her like she were any other patron in the museum. A stranger.

Marinette swallowed hard.

Nathaniel and Myléne moved to stand beside Lila and Sabrina. Nino draped an arm over Alya’s shoulders, giving a curt nod to Adrien. Lila’s green eyes glinted as their classmates claimed their sides. She didn’t seem bothered at all by those still standing beside Marinette—quite the opposite. Lila lived for the challenge, but Marinette felt like she was going to throw up. What was she plotting?

“How is your new school? Why did you transfer anyway? And without telling any of us! We were so heartbroken,” Lila cooed.

Marinette’s jaw clenched, biting back a string of insults. Now wasn’t the time to start a fight—it would make Lila look more sympathetic. Marinette needed to keep a cool head, even if Lila was a snake.

Adrien bristled, fingers curling on Marinette’s back. “Lila-”

“You’re right. I’m sorry,” Marinette said. “I know I should have told all of you, but it was a sudden decision I made because I wanted to focus on my future. I hope you’re all not mad at me.”

“How could we be mad at you? You’re like, the best,” Kim said.

“Indeed. We were confused, but this development makes sense. We know how important your future as a designer is to you, and with your level of talent, moving to a new school will increase your chances of succeeding in your field by 68.9%.” Max nodded.

“I mean, you could have said goodbye,” Nathaniel said, and Alix elbowed him.

“We’re just glad to see you again. We haven’t heard from you, so we were afraid to come see you.” Rose buried her face in Marinette’s blazer. “We’re sorry for being bad friends!”

“Rose…” Marinette patted her back.

“But you’ve had some crazy cool adventures at your new school. Tell us about that Jagged Stone concert!” Alix requested, several classmates echoing their agreement.

“Hey, Marinette, we’re gonna move to the next exhibit,” Macy said, parting the crowd to reach her. “We need to take notes for our report.”

“You’re right. Sorry, I have to go.” Marinette winced, though her former classmates only smiled.

“No sweat, Marinette.”

“Hey, we’re all having lunch in the courtyard later, you should sit with us!” Rose offered.

“Uh, sure,” Marinette said. As her old classmates dispersed, she shot a glare at Lila who only smiled in return.

“Adrien, our teacher wanted us to stay together. You don’t want to get in trouble, do you?” Lila said, not bothering to mask the gloat in her tone, but she wasn’t going to get a rise out of Marinette today.

“I’ll see you later.” Adrien planted a quick kiss to Marinette’s cheek, side-eyeing Lila as he did.

Macy tugged Marinette away from them swiftly, not slowing down until they’d rounded the corner to another hall.

“Martin told me about your run-in with that girl last week, so I wanted to get you out of there,” Macy said once they were safely in another room. “You were being so brave.”

“Do you want us to be your buffer today?” Martin asked.

Marinette smiled. Her friends were always looking out for her. What would she do without them?

“Thank you, both of you, but I’m fine. Seeing everyone again has actually put my mind at ease. At least now I know they don’t hate me. Well, most of them anyway.” She hugged her arms to her chest. “My biggest challenge today will be avoiding confrontation with Lila.”

“Well, you know we’ve got your back.” Macy linked an arm through Marinette’s with a smile.

“I’m really good at avoiding people, so I can steer us away from them.” Martin added.

“You guys are the best.” Marinette pulled them in for a side-hug.

“You’ve protected us in the past, so now it’s our turn,” Martin said. “Let us be your shield today.”

Marinette tightened her grip, leaning her head against Macy’s shoulder. Her old friends might still be under Lila’s control, but Marinette was grateful for the people she’d found after leaving. They’d been there for her when her whole world was falling apart. She really was lucky to have them.

Martin’s stealth proved effective as the morning wore on. Marinette barely saw any of her old classmates. As much relief as it brought her to know they still thought of her as a friend, she wasn’t ready to dive all the way back in. After all, they were still enamored by Lila, so she needed to tread carefully.

While Macy and Martin were engrossed in a Regnault, Marinette slipped over to the painting Gabrielle was studying across the room. Her dark green eyes didn’t look up when Marinette flanked her on the left, but she’d expected as much.

“You know, most people don’t avoid popularity.” When Marinette turned, Gabrielle’s face fell into a scowl. “Don’t turn around! I don’t want people to know we’re talking.”

Marinette turned back to the painting and pretended to study it. She was used to this game by now. Just because they were friends didn’t mean Gabrielle wanted everyone to know. She said it was for Marinette’s own good since people still rubbed the whole bankrupt thing in her face, but Marinette was starting to think she was just shy.

“You said you ran away from your old friends because they ditched you, but they all seemed more than happy to see you,” she said.

“It’s complicated.” Marinette jotted down information from the placard. “They’re being manipulated.”

“By the girl from the café?”

“Yeah.” Marinette pressed her lips into a firm line.

“She is quite the show pony,” Gabrielle said. “I can see why you two butt heads.”

“Lila is very charismatic. She tells people what they want to hear, so they don’t question it. It’s how she keeps control over them,” Marinette replied.

“She’d make a great politician.” Gabrielle laughed, but when Marinette remained quiet, she added, “It would be easy to take her down, you know. Someone with your connections could prove she’s lying with two phone calls.”

Marinette paused her writing and lowered her notebook with a frown.

“I’m not getting involved. It’s not my job to save everyone,” she said with more bite than she intended.

“Oh, don’t give me that.” Gabrielle rolled her eyes. “You like playing the hero, not for any glory or self-elevation, but just because you like helping people. It’s your most annoying quality.”

“I do not…” Marinette said lamely.

“Is that why even though I was mean to you and your friends, you still come by my café every Tuesday, so I don’t have to walk home alone? Why you talk to me at all when everyone else abandoned me,” she shot back. “Martin was a spineless twig before he met you. Macy and Eliott were complacent cowards. Now the twig has grown a trunk, and Thing 1 and 2 won’t stop running their mouths. You can’t help yourself, Marinette. You’re a good person.”

“Do you really think exposing her is what I should do? She’ll end up hurt and alone.” Marinette lowered her gaze.

“So what? She did it to herself when she told all of those lies. Sometimes you need to lose everything in order to change. If you leave her like this, she’ll never stop.” Gabrielle let out a short laugh. “Take it from someone who knows.”

Marinette weighed those words, pressing her lips together. Did she want to help? Of course. But did she want to get involved again at the expense of her own well-being? She wasn’t sure.

Lila was slippery. Marinette wasn’t even sure she could take her down, and if she did, she’d only cement her as an enemy. She needed a different way, an indirect way to make everyone see without calling her out to her face. A way to make Lila’s lies crumble from underneath, so that she had no choice but to face the truth.

There is one person who would know what to do.

But did Marinette want to stoop that low? Chloe requested her help once before, but did she even still want it? Chloe and Adrien had tried and failed to out Lila multiple times. Not to mention, Marinette and Adrien promised each other to let it go. Things were finally working out between them, and Marinette didn’t want to do anything to jeopardize that.

Marinette left her old life behind for a reason. Looking back was too painful. It had been a month since she left, and Marinette thought she was finally over everything until today. Seeing her old classmates rattled her more than she thought it would, a cool draft from the door she couldn’t quite close pricking her skin. But what did she expect when she ran away from her problems instead of facing them? A broken door couldn’t keep out the cold if it was never fixed. How much longer could Marinette run before the past caught up to her? How much longer until she had to turn around and face it? She didn’t want to think about it.

“Guess who?” She jumped as a playful lilt sounded in her ear, and a hand clamped over her eyes.

“Adrien?”

He lowered his hands with a cheery smile. Gabrielle was gone, and none of her old classmates were anywhere in sight. Her shoulders relaxed as Adrien pulled her close, touching his forehead to hers.

“You doing okay?” he asked.

“Yeah, I’m…fine.” She pushed her frantic thoughts away.

Adrien turned her around gently, hugging her from behind. “I know you’re avoiding everyone, but let’s walk around together for a bit. Just me and you.” His lips brushed her cheek, warm breath teasing her skin.

Adrien was her boyfriend now. Adrien, the boy of her dreams, was her boyfriend. Marinette still hadn’t told him her feelings, nor had he, but Adrien referred to himself as her boyfriend on Saturday. Their date hadn’t exactly gone as planned, but they were still able to spend time together. She’d tell him the next time they were alone together. No more hiding and running away.

“Okay.”

They walked hand-in-hand through several exhibits. Adrien mimicked a few poses from the paintings they passed. Marinette smiled and laughed. She leaned on his shoulder and snuggled into the crook of his neck, pushing the worries from that morning out of her mind. Lila wasn’t her problem anymore. Her old classmates still liked her—most of them anyway. Adrien was her boyfriend. Her new friends were amazing. Everything was fine.

So why didn’t she feel fine?

“Are you sure you’re gonna be okay with everyone at lunch?” Adrien asked. “I know you’re putting on a brave face, but we don’t have to eat with them if you don’t want to.”

He’d gotten good at sensing her mood. Could he be any more perfect?

“I’ll be fine,” she insisted, though her grip tightened on his hand.

“I’ll be right there with you if you need me, okay? I’ve got your back.” He lifted her hand to his lips, placing a gentle kiss to her knuckles.

Adrien continued to keep her mind off of everything, discussing various paintings and relaying stories from recent photoshoots and fencing tournaments. He told her jokes to make her laugh, kept her smiling when she started to look sad. But lunch eventually came, and he held her hand the whole walk to the courtyard.

“Marinette!” Macy waved them over to their group, and as soon as she sat down, her old classmates flocked to her.

“So, who are your new friends?” Rose asked, settling in with Juleka.

“Uh…”

“My name’s Macy, and this is Martin, Eliott, and Lisette.” Macy cast Marinette a reassuring smile as her old classmates introduced themselves one-by-one, but it did little to calm her nerves, especially when Lila approached with her group.

Marinette’s stomach flipped as they sat down, the tension in the group escalating rapidly. Her old classmates flicked their gazes between Lila and Marinette, waiting to see who would strike first.

“Hi, I’m Macy!” She stuck her hand out to Lila with a cheery smile that didn’t touch her eyes. “What’s your name?”

“This is Lila. She has an amazing life,” Sabrina said.

“Same.” Macy smiled sweetly as if that announcement were no big deal.

Marinette’s heartbeat accelerated.

“Last summer, she saved an African village leader from choking,” Nathaniel said, beaming up at her.

“It was the least I could do after he agreed to sign my petition to teach the children how to read.” Lila waved it away.

“Oh, Eliott and I love charity trips. Our parents have an organization that ships out clean water and recycled clothing to third-world countries. We visited a few in Africa last summer to help build huts and dig wells for them.” Macy shot back.

“Those kids played a mean game of football.” Eliott nodded with a reminiscent smile.

“She also spent Christmas in Achu with Prince Ali and his family. They’re close personal friends!” Rose gushed.

“Oh, Achu is lovely at Christmas, but we usually spend it in London at the royal family’s Christmas party. It’s a blast! My dad played water polo with Prince William in college, and they’re still good friends.” Eliott chimed in. “That reminds me, Marinette, you have got to come this year.”

“You know Prince William?” Rose gasped, cupping her cheeks.

“I have his number. Sometimes I babysit when we go to visit.” Eliott shrugged as if it were no big deal.

“Ugh, don’t get him started. He’ll brag all day.” Macy rolled her eyes, but Marinette’s old classmates turned their attention over immediately.

Marinette took a bite of her sandwich, but it turned to sand in her mouth as Alya glared at her. Her expression crossed between disappointment and anger as if she couldn’t believe Marinette would stoop so low. Alya used to give those looks to Chloe when she pulled her usual stunts, but Marinette wasn’t used to being on the receiving end.

As much as she should have been happy that Lila wasn’t getting the attention she wanted, Marinette didn’t have it in her. This was only giving Lila fuel to come up with better lies and new ways to use her friends. The divide between her old classmates was obvious—a deep chasm stretching wider by the minute.

Macy and Eliott might be upstaging her now, but it was only a matter of time before Lila got her revenge. Gabrielle was right. She’d never stop.

“You okay?” Adrien leaned into her ear.

Marinette blinked down at the sandwich she was crushing.

“I’m gonna go to the bathroom.” She set her lunch on top of her bag and scurried off as Eliott performed a scene from the Miraculous show he was in.

The faces she passed were all a blur. Her heart raced, blood roaring in her ears as she raced down the steps, past other patrons who paid no mind to the girl in a private school uniform wandering the halls. She didn’t know where she was going—away. Just away.

Her feet carried her deeper into the museum, lengthening the chasm between her and her old life. She wasn’t ready to turn and face it. The draft had grown stronger now, the cold wind beating against the door. It threatened to give out at any moment, biting Marinette’s toes with its frosty breath. She couldn’t run from it forever, but she could run today.

She collapsed on a bench, face falling into her hands. Her shoulders heaved with ragged breaths, tears wetting her palms. Gentle hands rubbed her back, weight sinking onto the bench beside her.

“Hey, I’m here, just breathe,” Adrien said.

She buried her face into his chest, shoulders shaking. Of course he’d come. Adrien was always by her side. It was one promise he kept, and Marinette needed him desperately.

Adrien held her close and whispered gentle reassurances in her ear until she calmed enough to sit up.

“Talk to me.” He tucked a loose strand of her hair back in place.

“Just… They’re all so taken with her, and she does nothing but use them and rub it in my face,” she whimpered. “And I know that I could expose her in an instant. I have Jagged Stone’s phone number. Clara Nightingale texts me! I could end her reign with a single phone call.”

“But that’s not you,” Adrien said.

She pressed the back of her hand to her quivering lip and shook her head.

“I want to stop it. I do, but I don’t want to play her game anymore. I want to get out, but I just can’t let go.” She found his gaze, hot tears clouding her vision. “I want to save everyone, but I don’t want to do this anymore. I’m tired of being everyone’s hero.”

“It’s okay.” He soothed with increasing alarm, placing a hand on her shoulder. “You’re gonna get through this. You’re the strongest person I know.”

She clenched her hands into fists. “I’m tired of always having to be strong. For once, I want to stop carrying everyone’s burdens because they’re too heavy for me.”

Adrien flicked his gaze over her shoulder briefly and met her gaze once more.

“Listen to me. Macy, Eliott, and Martin are all here for you.” He cupped her face. “I’m here for you. Don’t lose hope.”

“I can’t anymore. I can’t. I can’t-” She stopped short as dark energy washed over her, a cold feeling running through her core.

“Princess Verity, I am Hawkmoth-”

“Marinette, don’t listen to him, listen to me!” Adrien pleaded. “No one expects you to solve all of their problems.”

“Your friends are all trapped by that liar.”

“You’re stronger than him, Marinette.”

“Wouldn’t you like to set them free?”

“Fight it! Don’t give up!”

“I can give you the power to expose the truth.”

“Marinette, you’re not alone.” Marinette blinked, finding Adrien’s worried green eyes baring into hers.

The bracelet Macy gave her had gone dark, glowing with sinister energy. Marinette pressed her lips together. She was too tired to fight. Hadn’t she struggled enough? Maybe it was what Lila deserved—what they all deserved.

“Run, Adrien,” she said.

“No.” Her head snapped up, meeting his determined green eyes. “I’m not leaving you.”

“Adrien, please.”

“No.” He shook his head. “Don’t give up. You can beat him.”

“Adrien.” Fresh tears welled in her eyes, panic swelling. “Please, run. I love you, and I don’t want to hurt you.”

“You won’t. Don’t you know why I call you mon ange?” He held her face in his hands, touching his nose to hers. “Because you’re my angel, and I love you with all of my heart. I’m never going to leave you. Not ever.”

“Adrien…”

She just wanted everything to go back to the way it was—the way things were before Lila. The broken door had been pried open by the storm, dragging Marinette out into its dark flood. Her head hurt, body numb and cold, and even on her tiptoes, she could barely stay above the surface. She was drowning in a sea of her own anguish and guilt, too exhausted to fight the waves.

“Make it stop,” she whispered, a single tear slicing down her cheek.

They didn’t hesitate this time. His lips found hers, warm and safe—a buoy among the waves. Marinette wrapped herself in his warm embrace, driving out the cold ache in her bones. He trailed his fingers up her jaw and into her hair, pulling her closer. Ever since she left, Adrien had always been her lifeline, no matter how rough the waves got. His arms provided stable footing when the current was spinning too fast. He hadn’t abandoned her back then, and he wasn’t abandoning her now. Even her friends were outside fighting for her.

Lila could take a lot of things from her, but not them. These were the people who would always pull her out of the water, no matter how far down she sank. Marinette just needed to hang on while they pulled her to shore.

Taking a deep breath, she undid the clasp on her bracelet with shaking hands and set it on the bench. Macy, Elliot, Martin, Lisette, Adrien, Gabrielle. She had so many people who loved her—people who had been looking out for her all day. People who were still looking out for her. She was not alone.

“Not this time, Hawkmoth. I won’t help you. This isn’t the answer to my problem,” she said calmly.

The butterfly reemerged and fluttered off, returning the bracelet to normal. Marinette watched it go, legs too heavy to give chase.

Adrien crushed her against his chest, kissing her hair. “You’re okay. I’ve got you. You’re safe.” He rubbed her back, clutching fistfuls of her shirt in shaking hands. “I’m here. It’s gonna be okay.”

“Adrien, the akuma. We have to stop it,” she said, but he didn’t budge.

“One minute, Marinette,” he murmured. “Can you think of yourself for just one minute and stay here with me?”

Marinette relented, finding his lips again. He kissed her hard, his fear and relief washing over her, the severity of the situation hitting her in the gut.

She’d almost been akumatized. Again.

If Adrien hadn’t been there, Paris would have been doomed. He was her guardian angel, and the best boyfriend in the world. The selfish part of her wanted to stay and kiss his pillowy lips forever. Maybe someone would paint a picture of them and hang it in the museum, then everyone could bask in their undying love. But Marinette couldn’t afford such luxurious daydreams. Not everyone had the support system Marinette did, and she needed to find the akuma before someone else fell victim to Hawkmoth.

“Thank you,” she said when they pulled away. “You’ve been looking out for me all day.”

“You’re not alone, mon ange. I will always be here for you.” He vowed, kissing her forehead.

She took a deep breath and squared her shoulders. “We should go after that akuma before it gets someone else.”

“We can cover more ground if we split up.” He fastened her bracelet around her wrist, giving her hand a squeeze. “Be careful, and stay safe.”

“You too.” They leaned in for one final kiss, swift and hard, before turning their backs and taking off.

“I’m very proud of you, Marinette,” Tikki said as she took cover in a closed exhibit. “And you and Adrien finally confessed your true feelings!”

“We can talk about it later. We have an akuma to catch. Transform me!”

#mdcspr #my writing

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dameronology · 4 years ago

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tea & whiskey {jack daniels x reader} - 1

part one: an insight into how microwaving tea should be a capital crime (fem! reader)

song for this chapter - ldn by lily allen

summary: you’re Percival; reigning queen of the Kingsman, certified bad-ass and one of the most self-sufficient women to have ever graced the City of London. A mission with the Statesmen is a chance to further your career and tighten your grip on international success - it’s a shame that Jack Daniels already has his eyes on the throne. He also has his eyes on you, and it proves to be a problem for you both. {series masterlist}

this has all the kingsman characters but doesn’t follow the canon of golden circle. eggsy, tequila, champ, merlin etc all crop up throughout the series as well! if u want to be tagged, gimme a shout

- jazz

You didn’t usually answer the door when someone knocked after 11PM.

It was just common sense, really. Only serial killers, creeps and people who had the wrong address would knock that late. You could have taken on any of those three regardless - you were a bad-ass after all - but you were also busy. You’d been tirelessly working all day at the office, and the grind didn’t stop just because you’d got home. The stack of paperwork beside your computer felt like it was never ending and you simply didn’t have the time to answer the door. Working as Kingsman was more of a lifestyle than it was a job.

‘Oi!’

You almost jumped out your seat when the banging moved to the window beside your desk. It overlooked your front lawn and the quiet street you lived on - well, as quiet as a street in central London could be. Classic to the city, rain was lashing down on the glass, obscuring your view of whoever your visitor was.

Right, you could add Eggsy Unwin to the list of people who knocked this late.

‘What the hell, Eggsy?!’ You sighed, opening the front door. Your colleague quickly rushed from where he was standing by the window, elbowing past you and into the dry warmth of your house. ‘It’s almost midnight-’

‘- I’ve been calling you for hours!’ The agent exclaimed.

‘I’ve been working all day.’ You replied.

It wasn’t the first time he’d turned up at your doorstep at a stupid hour. Eggsy was your colleague, but first and foremost, he was your best friend. He had a tendency to drive you up the fucking wall and right back down again, and had done since you were in your school years, but he’d always been a little dependent on you. Whether it had been letting him crash on your sofa when his stepfather became too much, or giving him a lift home from the police station at 2AM after he’d been arrested, you always had his back. He had yours too, but you rarely needed it. Even after becoming a member of the Kingsman and essentially saving the world, you were still the first person he came too.

After wrapping Eggsy up in a towel and escorting him to the kitchen, you placed a mug of warm tea on the table and sat beside him. Work could wait - for an hour or so at least. Chasing an internationally-reclaimed terrorist certainly took precedence over whatever your friend’s problems were, but if he needed you, he needed you. Bros before hoes might not have been the perfect saying for the situation, but the sentiment was definitely there.

‘What’s happened now?’ You quirked an eyebrow. ‘I know it ain’t an arrest because you would have called from the station otherwise.’

Eggsy thinned his eyes at you. ‘I haven’t been arrested in two years.’

‘So what was it?’

‘I had a fight with Tilde.’ He admitted. ‘I don’t know what happened, but she’s mad at me.’

‘Were you talking before she got mad?’

‘Yeah.’

You raised your mug in the air. ‘That’s probably it then.’

‘Y/N!’ He swatted your hand away, causing tea to spill out onto the table.

You sighed. ‘D’you wanna talk about it?’

‘No, I just need a place to crash.’

You stood up, leaning over the table to give his shoulder a squeeze. ‘You know where the spare room is, right?’

‘That’s it?’ He pouted. ‘Tea and a squeeze on the shoulder? My life is falling apart!’

‘Don’t be a drama queen.’ You replied. ‘I have to work - and you should be too. We’re close to getting Calahan.’

Calahan was the codename for the terrorist you’d been tracking - at least his current one. The man had worked under several aliases, jumping from country to country before finally falling under the jurisdiction of the British secret services. The MI5 and Scotland Yard were too well known to work such a sensitive case; the location of their offices were publicly known, making it easier for Calahan to slip in double agents. The civilians, however, had no knowledge on the Kingsmen. A tailor’s shop was a perfectly good front for a place to set up base and track the man down.

Thanks to your success on your previous missions, Arthur had put you in charge of finding him, with Eggsy assigned as your partner. He was just as good an agent as you, but you had little sympathy for his domestic issues.

‘I was working on it all day.’ Eggsy held his hands up in surrender. ‘But with all due respect, Percival, I don’t work into the late hours of the night. I know how to switch off.’

‘That’s because you’re a man, Eggsy.’ You reminded him. ‘I am one of three women at Kingsman.’

‘That’s still three more than there used to be.’

‘You’ve already pissed off one extremely patient woman tonight.’ You warned him, referring to Tilde. ‘Do you want to go two for two?’

‘No.’ He huffed. ‘Women are just complicated.’

‘Or maybe men are just dumb.’ You smiled sweetly, before brushing a hand through his hair. ‘You should get some rest.’

‘So should you.’

‘I’m fine.’ You shook your head. ‘I’ve got a meeting with Merlin in the morning. We’ll have to leave at eight.’

‘Do I have to go? Merlin hasn’t said anything to me-’

‘- yes.’

‘Why?’

‘Because I said so.’

He couldn’t argue with that.

The following morning, you were headed for the Kingsman headquarters by 9AM. Having filled Eggsy with some coffee and half a bacon-sandwich, he had cheered up considerably. You did feel for him - he had been right when he said that women were confusing - but your attention was still very much on work. That was the norm, really. You lived and breathed for your job. It wasn’t your whole identity but it was certainly your whole life. You were recruited at eighteen and now, it was all you knew. The other agents were your family.

‘C’mon, Eggsy!’ You demanded, practically leaping out your car. Your arms were piled high with files, keys dangling from your fingers as you kicked the door to the Mustang shut. It had been a present from Kingsmen for a particularly successful mission.

‘There’s no rush.’ Eggsy chided from behind you. ‘You should enjoy a little leisurely stroll once in a while. It might do that vein on your forehead some good.’

Whilst you were decked out in a blazer and black jeans, Eggsy was in his usual snapback and sports jacket. He trailed beside you, hands stuffed in his pockets as you both slipped inside the shop. It was quiet inside, the only sounds coming from the bell on the door and the sound of your heels on the polished wooden floors. You didn’t just wear them because they made your legs look endless - they doubled up as weapons too. Merlin hadn’t done anything special to them, it was just that anything was a blade if you tried hard enough. Your five inch Christian Louboutins were no different. The fact the bottoms were already red was purely a convenient coincidence.

‘She still hasn’t called me.’ Eggsy murmured.

‘I’m sure she will.’ You gave his arm a light squeeze. ‘Tilde loves you, Egghead.’

‘Fucking ‘ell.’ He let out a snort. ‘You haven’t called me that in years.��

The two of you made your way down the hall and towards the meeting room. Merlin was already sitting at the table, pens and notepads laid out in front of him. Considering that you’d worked together for years, you hardly knew the man. He was always working, always building new gadgets or arranging missions. Did he ever sleep? You wouldn’t have been surprised if it turned out that he’d been a droid this whole time. Someone had mentioned his name being Hamish once, but he didn’t seem like a Hamish. You always pegged him as more of a...Simon. Or a Mark.

‘You two are late.’ He greeted you.

‘It’s nine o’clock.’ You shot back, dropping into the seat opposite him.

‘Early is on time.’ Merlin folded his arms across his chest. ‘On time is late.’

You rolled your eyes at the agent. ‘You know how London traffic can be.’

Choosing to ignore your comment, the Scotsman hit a few buttons on the table in front of him. The whiteboard in front of you jumped to life, lighting up with a picture of New York City - specifically, Midtown. You’d been to the city several times for work, usually to do recon or on protection details for British politicians before diplomatic visits. Outside of that, any missions in North America were outside of the Kingmen’s authority. That was when it fell to the USA’s secret services - a bunch of people you weren’t particularly fond of working with.

‘Calahan slipped out of the country.’ Merlin stated. ‘He’s been spotted in Manhattan by several of our contacts at the Bureau.’

‘What?!’ You guffawed. ‘I thought we had tabs on him. You told me we had tabs on him-’

‘- let me finish, Percival.’ He cut you off. ‘We let him.’

‘You…’ you scoffed in disbelief. ‘You let a known terrorist escape the borders?! You know that I’ve had tabs on him for months! Are you trying to waste my time?’

‘Calm down, agent!’ Merlin repeated, this time in a more firm tone. It was easy to let your temper get the best of you - but at the same time, it was the very thing that had allowed you to force your colleagues into submission. ‘He has more charges on his back in American jurisdiction. We have a better chance of convicting him over there.’

‘You could have told me that before I spent six months tailing him.’ You dropped back in your chair, folding your arms tightly across your chest.

‘Your mission isn’t over.’ Merlin replied. ‘You know more about Calahan than any men here or across the pond. I want you posted in New York for a few months.’

‘Oh?’ You sat up, interest peaked.

Working internationally was usually the first step to becoming a senior agent. It was one thing to commandeer the respect of your colleagues but to throw your name into the ring on a global scale? That was how you made it big time - and big time meant big time. Your work would go from being based in London, to taking you all over the world. Kingsman who worked on an international level could be in Moscow one day and Bogota the next. Once they retired, they were legends. It was the kind of success you’d dreamed of your whole life.

And New York was the first stepping stone.

‘It’s only if you want it, of course.’ Merlin pulled you from your thoughts. ‘The Statesman have agreed to accommodate you, should you choose to accept.’

‘Statesmen?’ You tried to hide the displeasement in your face. ‘Like...the cowboys?’

‘Is there a problem, Percival?’

‘No!’ You quickly replied. ‘It’s just...I worked with one of them once. It wasn’t great.’

‘Here we go.’ Eggsy murmured from beside you. ‘She witnessed Agent Tequila make tea in the microwave.’

‘And I swore never to work with them again.’ You hissed under your breath, fists clenching.

‘I can see how that would be disturbing.’ Merlin agreed. ‘Though I’m not entirely sure it’s enough reason to turn down a potentially career changing mission.’

‘No, you’re right.’ You nodded. ‘But I can bring my own kettle, right?’

‘I can’t believe you brought your own fucking kettle.’

‘And I can’t believe that Merlin is making me drag you along-’

‘- it’s only for a week.’ Eggsy held his hands up in defense.

Eggsy, who had momentarily forgotten his relationship woes, had been posted out in the city with you for the first five or six days. Merlin and Arthur had been pretty insistent on him joining you - something about making sure you didn’t blow your lid at a cowboy. It was funny, because you were usually the one babysitting him. That being said, deep down you were glad to have him there with you. It would have made settling in a little easier.

You were moving faster than him, the sound of your heels clicking on the marble floors of the Statesman headquarters as you floated towards the front desk. The building was right in central Manhattan, bang in the middle of all the beautiful things New York had to offer. Not that you were going to experience many of them - you were here to work, after all.

‘Percival!’ Agent Tequila was posted by the front desk, a grin spread across his face as your eyes met. ‘And...I know they told me your name, but I’ve forgotten.’

‘He’s Galahad 2.0.’ You stuck your hand out to Tequila, offering him the kettle. ‘This is for you.’

‘A...a kettle?’ The agent gave you an odd look.

‘If I’m going to be working with you for the next few months, I cannot witness you making tea in a microwave.’ You explained. ‘I may murder you in your sleep otherwise.’

‘Jeez, lady.’ He muttered. He would have argued, but if there was one thing he’d learnt from your last collaboration, it was that nobody entered into a fight with you and won. ‘But it’s okay, you’re not with me this time.’

‘Oh?’ You quirked an eyebrow. Tequila began to make his way to the lift, signalling for you and Eggsy to follow.

‘No, you’re with Whiskey this time.’ He explained, pressing the button for the top floor. ‘He’s a little more senior than me.’

‘Whiskey and Tequila?’ Eggsy muttered in your ear. ‘What’s their boss called? Pale ale?’

‘Champagne.’ You replied.

‘Good one.’ He snorted.

‘No, Eggsy.’ You whispered back. ‘He’s actually called Champagne.’

‘Fucking hell.’

Yeah, you thought, that kinda sums it up.

The three of you stepped out the lift and onto the top floor. The views from the windows were almost breath-taking; it wasn’t often that you got to see 360 degree views of one of the most beautiful cities in the world. The skyscrapers stretched out further than the eye could see, eventually melting together in the distance where the sky met the land. It was almost breath-taking just to think about - the people, the opportunities, the magic that New York had to offer. London was your home, and you couldn’t even begin to dream of leaving, but your mind did wander off a little.

‘Whiskey! I got your girl!’ Tequila yelled, pressing a button on an intercom outside one of the offices. He gave Eggsy a quick glance. . ‘And...the other one.’

‘Sweet Jesus, Tequila!’ A strong Southern accent came back. ‘You don’t gotta yell every time you use the fucking thing! I’m gonna be deaf as a goddamn doornail before I’m fifty.’

A moment later, the door to the office opened and Agent Whiskey stepped out. He was about the same height as Tequila, but a little older. He was wearing a cow-boy hat and there was a...was it a swagger? A spring in his step? Either way, the temptation to stick your foot out and stop him in his tracks was overwhelming.

‘Well hello, pretty lady.’ Whiskey greeted you with a shit-eating grin. ‘I hear that you’re the little birdy who’s gonna give me Calahan?’

‘I prefer Percival.’ You monotonously replied. ‘And if I’m the little birdy that’s gonna give you Calahan, then you must be the yankee who stole him from me.’

‘Girl’s gotta bite.’ He gave your hand a shake. ‘I like that.’

‘This is Galahad.’ You pointed to Eggsy, who was inwardly holding his breath at the whole exchange. He was mentally counting down the minutes before you smacked off Whiskey’s cowboy hat. ‘Let’s see if you can acknowledge his gender three times in one breath-’

‘- okay, that’ll do!’ Your best friend pulled you back, taking Whiskey’s hand in place of yours. ‘It’s a pleasure to meet you, Whiskey.’

‘Please, call me Jack.’ The cowboy replied.

‘Whiskey. Jack.’ Eggsy murmured under his breath. ‘Oh my days! Imagine if your surname was Daniels.’

After a brief conversation with Jack about his surname - during which you had seen Eggsy Unwin more entertained than ever before - you were taken down the hall to the agent’s office. Meanwhile, Eggsy and Tequila were escorted off to exchange some files that you’d both gathered.

Whiskey’s office was exactly as you could have predicted; a mixture of dark wood furniture and red tones. The air smelt of his aftershave, with a hint of brandy and earth.

‘Your desk is that one there.’ Whiskey gestured to a slightly smaller set-up in the corner.

‘I don’t get my own office?’

‘Since we’re gonna be working in close proximity, Champ figured it was best we double up.’ He explained. ‘Saves us doing a whole revolving door movement when we gotta talk to one another.’

‘Makes sense.’ You placed your bag on the desk, admiring the view for a moment. All of your files on Calahan had been uploaded to the Statesmen’s online cloud, whilst your other belongings had been delivered to the apartment you were staying in. ‘Nice view.’

‘It ain’t bad.’ Whiskey nodded. ‘You been to this neck of the woods before?’

‘Only when British diplomats need a babysitter.’ You replied.

‘Babysitting?’ He raised an eyebrow. ‘That’s what you Kingsmen do? You babysit?’

‘Why d’you think Eggsy is here?’ You shot back. ‘To babysit me.’

‘Now why would a well-mannered redcoat such as yourself need a babysitter?’ He could barely hide the grin in his voice, leaning back against the window as he peered at you over his glasses.

‘How would I put it in your terms?’ You pondered for a moment, offering Whiskey a sweet smile. ‘Is there a Southern term for I eat cowboys alive?’

He gulped. ‘I...I don’t think we got one for that yet.’

You nodded, turning your attention back to staring at the view in front of you. ‘You should come up with one. It might be useful.’

#jack daniels x reader #jack daniels imagine #agent whiskey x reader #agent whiskey imagine #agent whiskey fluff #jack daniels fluff #jack daniels x you #agent whiskey x female reader #agent whiskey x you #kingsman imagine #kingsman x reader #eggsy unwin x reader #eggsy unwin imagine

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damn-stark · 4 years ago

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Different Light

Different light ch.1

A/N- First chapter!! I hope you all like it!! I loved writing this and can’t wait to write more :) let me know what you thought?!

Warning- slight angst, nice Draco (slight...you’ll see), slow burn

Pairing- Harry Potter x Malfoy!reader, Fred Weasley x Malfoy!reader

(Let me know if you want to be tagged)

————

Dear Ms. Malfoy

We are pleased to inform you that you have been re-accepted at the Durmstrang institute of Magic—

You scoff, “Yeah right.” As you crumble the letter in your hand and toss it into the fire, proceeding to stand up straight and look over your shoulders to check if anyone is around. Misfortunately catching no one other than Draco coming out of the shadows with a smug smile on his lips.

“What have you done?” He questions as he buttons his new black blazer.

You turn to face him and sigh, “nothing you’re going to tell father that’s for sure.” You walk off to take your seat around the dinner table and hear the heels of Draco’s shoes follow behind you and then walk around to sit across from you with the same stupid grin glued to his face. “You’re not going to tell father, Draco. I’ve told you I don’t wish to attend Durmstrang anymore.” You say sternly.

Just before Draco could give his answer another letter popped out of thin air and began to fall towards you, causing Draco to be quicker than you were and snatch the letter from the air. Beginning to tease you with it as he waved it around and added a comment. “Then tell him you want to go to Hogwarts today during dinner or I’ll show him even if he already knows.”

You narrow your gaze on him and huff out, “fine.” And as if your thought had summoned him, in walked your father with Narcissa in tow. Both their presences increase to the anxiety already building up in the pit of your stomach; more his than hers, or rather what you needed to tell him. The feeling made you rather quieter than usual, no usual greeting or simple smile before sitting around the table to await for your meal. No, this time you sat and watched your fidgeting hands under the table, feeling as if your heartbeat was some sort of jackhammer on how fast it was currently beating.

Draco noticed your silence and discreetly kicked you under the table, while Narcissa noticed your strange behavior and questioned you. “Is everything alright, y/n?”

Your eyes flicker up to her and you nod, replying with a shaky, “yes,” pausing to take a deep breath and turning to your father who’s attention was already on you.

“Have you already packed to leave for Durmstrang?”

“About that,” you mumble, pausing again as they set your food down, wishing now that you didn’t have to say a word. But you knew you did if you wanted to get what you wanted, “I don’t want to go back to Durmstrang.” Immediately your father shoots you a narrowed look, but let’s you continue, “it’s too far from home and I just simply hate it there. Not only that but I did get expelled or did you forget?”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” your father answered as he picked up the utensils he needed to eat dinner, “Durmstrang is the best school, I’ve talked with the Headmaster and he’ll allow you to return. You’ll come back for the holidays as you always do.”

A sigh leaves your lips and your gaze lowers to the food on your plate for a brief moment before Draco kicks you again, bringing your attention to his hand reaching for the letter inside his pocket. Threatening you and causing you to roll your eyes and try again. “Please father don’t make me go back, the school is horrible and the students more so. It’s too cold and dark. I hate it there.” He stays quiet and you continue adding to your explanation, hoping something would get to him. “At Hogwarts I’ll be closer to home and closer to Draco. I’ll do better there I promise.” He sighs and sets his utensils down, looking between you, Draco and then his wife; who showed him a gentle smile and look that spoke hundreds of words. That gesture luckily for you winning him over.

“Fine,” he finally agrees, making your smile finally grow. “But if I hear that you’re misbehaving or you’re doing bad in classes I’ll send you back to Durmstrang.”

Looking to Narcissa before turning back to your father, you offer her a warm smile that she’s quick to mirror—“thank you father. I promise I’ll do good.”

He hums and then adds one last thing before the dinner is enjoyed in silence, “since you’re staying home longer now then, you’ll come with Draco and I to the Quidditch World Cup. No excuses.”

You grin brightly. “Alright.”

——

For a moment when they said to come with them to the Quidditch World Cup, you thought you were going to get the full experience like staying in a tent like the rest of witches and wizards attending the game, be like the crowd and enjoy the moment, enjoy every aspect. But, no you were mistaken. Heavily. Apparently being with the rest of the crowd wasn't right, not only because your father said they looked like wild animals in a field, but because there was a mixture, half bloods and muggle born families. It wasn’t right, he said. We should be with “our” people, he said.

What you wouldn’t give to have your parents and Draco not hate being like the rest or like the Weasleys, or as most of the people your family associated with (including your family) called them “blood-traitors”; they didn’t care what others thought of them, they lived freely and without being so uptight, they didn’t care of the status of others or themselves. They simply were genuine. People you wish your family was like.

Not that you would trade your family for them because you loved your family, but you did on occasion wish they were more like the Weasleys—like now. It would be much more fun to be like them now, here. But no. You were stuck with the rest of the uptight people who didn’t have the slightest idea how to have fun in a game! The shame.

“Look, y/n.” Draco said as he hit your arm to point further up the platforms, pulling your attention away from your thoughts to notice the familiar redhead family a couple floors higher up then you were. Noting that if Draco pointed them out with that mischievous little sly grin of his then it wouldn’t lead to anything good.

“Blimey dad, how high are we?!”

“Well put it this way!” Your father butt in, walking you closer to the railing as you had your arm locked around his, your own attention on the family above. Noticing right away all the kids they had, the twins who seemed to be better cuter in person than in the newspaper, much older too. Then there was a boy who was beside Mr. Weasley and basing on the glare he was shooting Draco, the boy was Ron Weasley. Yeah him you did know by name, only because your brother never shut up about him—“If it rains you’ll be the first to know.” Your father continued, making Draco laugh and for your frown to deepen, looking away from Mr. Weasley and his disapproving look as your attention was captivated by someone else. A dark haired boy that seemed about the age of Draco, with very blue eyes, a frown of his own and a curious stare as he caught your gaze. He was cute, cuter than most boys you knew. He also seemed familiar….but you just couldn’t place a name to his face...

Before you could think too much of it, your eyes traveled further down to see a pretty girl with her hair picked up, her skin pale and her face expressing nothing but annoyance; and noticing that she didn’t have red hair like the girl next to her then you knew she wasn’t the youngest Weasley, but rather the “Mud-blood” your brother also ranted about. And...the boy in the glasses was Harry Potter. The famous “chosen one” and another one of your brother’s rivals. How cluessless and dumb could you be...

“Father, y/n and I are in the Minister's box by personal invitation of Cornelius Fudge himself.” Draco gloated as the three of you continued moving along, with you still rather much glued to your father's side and just staying quiet as you discreetly rolled your eyes at Dracos comment.

Only completely looking over to Draco with a shocked expression as your father countered his comment whilst also hitting him with his cane. “Don’t boast, Draco. There's no need with these people.” Before the family could leave, your father stepped forward and stopped Harry Potter with the handle of his cane and added feignedly and with not such a good intention. “Do enjoy yourself won’t you? While you can.” With nothing else they turned to leave and your father tapped your hand as Harry Potter and you shared one last glance before he left along with the rest. “Come on y/n, let’s go.”

The three of you continued moving until you reached the box Draco had just so smugly boasted about, finding it hard to concentrate on the people around as your mind was still on the family from before, mainly on the boy with them. It was a thought you needed to speak out loud. “That was Harry Potter, right? The boy that is supposed to be the chosen one? The one in your year, Draco?”

Draco nods and leans in closer to you to sharply whisper his comment, “filthy half-blood doesn’t know who real people are. He would rather be alongside traitors…” he pauses and some sort of amusement and distaste is heard in his voice, “but then again those are his kind of people, right?”

You hum as a response, but not to really agree with his comment, just to not ignore him, getting lucky and using the cheering that got louder as the players zoomed in the stadium as a distraction not to answer. Getting up seconds later alongside Draco to join in the cheering and clapping as the Irish players flew in, followed by the Bulgarian in their red suits. Grinning and whooping as some did tricks on their brooms, clapping harder as the one player you knew flew in, the best seeker in the world, Krum. Now you might’ve hated Durmstrang and most of the students there, but there was something about knowing that you went to school with Krum and seeing him here now at such an important sporting event that made you happy. It might be only short lived, at the moment type of thing, or simply just a form boasting yourself, but it did get you excited for the moment.

The feeling made you forget your previous thoughts and the past events that happened moments before and fully engage in the game and the announcement being said before it all began. “Good evening! As Minister for Magic it gives me great pleasure to welcome each and everyone of you to the final four hundred and twenty-second Quidditch World Cup, let the match begin!”

——

“Did you see that dive, Krum did!” Draco said excitedly as he mimicked the move with his hand, showing the fun and at ease side of himself that he only seemed to show with you and his mother. Never really with father. He always wanted to act composed like him. Just as uptight as the rest, but with you he let out the kid still inside, it was something that made you grin brightly and be even more excited. “At the very last second! Before he just spiraled off and Lynch hit the ground! That’s a move I’m doing when I play.”

“You better!” You respond happily, as the both of you walk under the dark of night, going ignorant to the commotion in the distance, distracting yourself as you wait for your father to finish what he went off to do in the crowd of people he had only made fun of before. “I can’t wait to finally go to one of your games.”

“I’m the best on my team, I guarantee you that.” He said smugly.

You shake your head but still contain your smile, parting your lips to reply but instantly stopping as a strange light suddenly caught your eye. It was something vast and green, seen past the trees and from where Draco and you were in the forest, it shone brighter than the stars in the sky and looked like a cloud of green smoke. A cloud of smoke that began to form into a big skull with a serpent coming out of its mouth like a tongue would. A mark. His mark.

“Quickly, we have to find father.” You stressed, not having to do much more before Draco and you hurried to the crowd of tents and pushed past the crowd of people that ran away in a panic, almost running over you in the panicked state they were, making it harder to identify anyone in the crowd, causing trouble to keep Draco in front of you as they shoved past you. It was beginning to raise your fear and panic, making your breathing much quicker just like the heart inside your chest. It made you stressed to the point you couldn’t find the man you were looking for in the field—that or you were just too overwhelmed to look good.

“Y/N! There he is! Come on!” Draco ushered you, pointing to the tall familiar man that finally brought some sort of comfort to your panic.

“Quickly!” He bellowed, rushing Draco and you towards him, looking paler than usual and as afraid as Draco and you. And before either Draco or you could question the mark in the dark sky, he grabbed your hands and the three of you disapparated from the scene. Forgetting the mark in the sky. Not by your choice, but by your fathers. The questions you had, left back in the place you were last standing to never be answered. Simply avoided and being left with nothing but wonder.

——

“I’ll try and send letters as soon as I can, okay?” Narcissa said as she waved at both Draco and you.

You nod and wave goodbye, thinking to yourself how someone who wasn’t your biological parent cared more to be here than your actual father. She always did, she never cared that your mother had been someone else, she treated you exactly as she treated Draco, no exceptions.

“Okay.” You nod with a small smile decorating your lips, ignoring the way Draco only offered her a short stiff wave before he disappeared inside the famous scarlet train. “Bye, I’ll write as soon as we’re settled in school!” With one last goodbye you disappear inside too, following Draco down the hall until he reaches his compartment, stopping by the door and letting you go in first before he and his other friends follow suit. Two friends you knew, Crabbe and Goyle; and also didn’t like as they were both annoying and rude. The only good thing about them was that they left you alone, and continued doing so as the train left the station and began to travel further north towards the school that at the simple thought began to make you feel nervous, made you feel like your heart was slowly dropping to your stomach the closer you knew you were getting.

The only thing that eased your mind was seeing as rain drops ran down the window of your compartment, as more rain fell on harder and the clouds grew darker; straining your eyes to see the passing scenery out the window that was covered by the steam caused by the rain. But like usual your peace was disturbed as per usual Draco and his annoying friends were causing a scene.

At first you were going to let it just pass and stay seated but you heard what Draco was saying and you quickly dragged yourself off your seat and walked up behind him. “...but then, fathers always associated with the top people at the Ministry...maybe your fathers too junior to know about it, Weasley...yes...they probably don’t talk important stuff in front of him—”

“Draco.” You cut him off with a tight lipped smile, “that’s enough, leave them alone.”

Goyle was about to snap back, but before he could you caught his intentions and shot him a glare that made him shut up immediately.

“Let’s head back to the compartment,” You sigh and force the words you speak to convince Draco to leave. “They...aren’t worth it let’s go.”

“You’re right.” Draco responded smugly, “of course.” Before he could leave completely he looks at you with the same smug look before looking at the group he was just being mean too. “My sister personally knows the player you can only admire as a toy, Weasley. She went to school with him you see.” He boasted and continued doing so with no fault in his pride, “and I’m sure she’s going to sign up too and take that glory you crave so much, Potter.” With that being said, he turned back and walked back to the compartment laughing with his friends as they kept poking fun at the students they had just left, leaving you back alone to offer them a small smile and a genuine apology.

“I’m sorry for him and his annoying friends.”

They answered with silence and annoyed pointed glares, making you offer them one last apologetic smile before you turned away and walked back into the compartment. Enjoying the rest of the ride to your new school with just the sound of the raindrops to keep you company and at ease.

As time passed, everything you were nervous to see finally came to view. You arrived at the train station and expected to travel to the castle in the boats, but that form of travel you knew was for first years; but if you thought of it you practically were like the first years, you were a couple years above them and it was your first time coming to this school like them. But as you saw them all leave with the giant man you came to the conclusion that you weren’t like them.

The only thing you could do was go up to the school alongside the rest of the students, climbing onto horseless carriages. The fact that you wouldn’t get the full first day experience kind of brought your mood down at first, but as you passed the gates and the carriages miraculously landed on the ground without getting destroyed in the sky by the lightning, your mood was once again nervous and excited.

The anxiety was short-lived for the moment however as you saw the huge old dark castle and climbed up the flight of big stone stairs to get inside the castle, being in awe as your eyes slowly took everything in. Noticing the torch lit hall that brought a warm welcome, the marble staircases that made everything much fancier, and before you could notice more, a tall older thin woman with a big pointed hat walked towards you and the rest of the students. Draco standing by you, revealed her name you had only been wanting to know, Professor McGonagall.

She gave no speech or attention your way specifically, just ushered all you into the great hall where you knew the inevitable was coming, the sorting you had been all too nervous to get to was going to finally happen.

——

“A thousand years or more ago, when I was newly sewn, there lived four wizards of renown, whose names are still well known: Bold Gryffindor, from wild moor, Fair Ravenclaw, from glen, Sweet Hufflepuff, from valley broad, Shrewd Slytherin, from fen. They shared a wish, a hope, a dream, they hatched a daring plan to educate young sorcerers thus Hogwarts School began. Now each of these four founders formed their own house, for each did value different virtues In the ones they had to teach. By Gryffindor, the bravest were prized far beyond the rest; For Ravenclaw, the cleverest would always be the best; For Hufflepuff, hard workers were most worthy of admission; And power-hungry Slytherin loved those of great ambition. While still alive they did divide their favorites from the throng, yet how to pick the worthy ones when they were dead and gone? 'Twas Gryffindor who found the way, he whipped me off his head the founders put some brains in me so I could choose instead! Now slip me snug about your ears, I've never yet been wrong, I'll have a look inside your mind and tell where you belong!” The hat sings, making everyone clap and cheer.

You clap lazily before letting out a nervous sigh and keep bouncing your leg under the table, rubbing your wrists as you rest your arms on the table top. Not being able to keep your eyes from drifting to the Gryffindor table, spotting Harry Potter talking amongst his friends, wondering to yourself what would happen if you got put into Gryffindor and ended up becoming friends with the trio Draco always ranted about. Would such a drastic choice, drift you from your family? What would everyone think? Having a Malfoy be part of a different house that wasn’t Slytherin?

For one you wouldn’t mind….that much...it would be a change. A weird one, but one that would stop people from viewing you like the enemy. But two it would definitely cause a drift now that you really thought of it, maybe not between you and Narcissa but between your loving father and Draco.

“I know you’ll get Slytherin.” Draco suddenly said to you, ignoring Dumbledore's speech and breaking you from your thoughts.

You blink and turn your head to look at him, raising your eyebrow to question, “you think so?”

“You’re a Malfoy it’s obvious isn’t?”

You hum and nod still all kinds of unsure, “you’re right.” Your eyes then dart to Dumbledore as you hear the words you’d been dreading to hear.

“Before we sort the first years I'd like to bring up a new transfer from Durmatrang to get sorted first, Y/N Malfoy!” The crowd goes completely silent, the only sound was the sound of people shifting as they turn their bodies and heads to look at you as you stand from your seat to slowly head towards the stool where the sorting hat was waiting to sort you in a house, and tell you a choice that would or wouldn’t change many things. It was all nerve wracking especially with all the eyes watching you intently, you could feel your heart beat wildly in your chest and swore others could hear it too, especially dumbledore who you now stood before, glancing only once at him before he motioned you to sit, lifting the brown hat over your head and carefully placing it on top.

At first you’d thought it would be a quick choice without having to do much thinking like Draco said it did with him, but it wasn’t, for you he hummed to ponder; “hmm….another Malfoy...as easy it was to place the one before, with you it’s difficult.” It stayed silent and since you couldn’t see it’s facial expression as it spoke, you had to go off the wide eyed expressions and the whisperings from the other students.

“I sense that there’s a thirst to prove yourself as well as great ambition…” he continues to say loudly, “...hmm, ruthless as well as passionate. Should I put you in Gryffindor where dwell the brave of heart, or perhaps Slytherin where there are cunning folk that use any means to achieve their ends.” It goes silent again and this time you look to Draco who’s listening with much intent, his eyebrows furrowed as if he were the one having trouble.

You dig your nails into the wood of the stool and notice the murmuring crowd all going silent as the hat speaks to finish. “Oh, I see now, better be...”

Tagged- @peter-laufeyson , @swiftlymoniquesblog

#harry Potter #Harry Potter #Harry Potter and the goblet of fire #harry potter x malfoy!reader #harry potter x you #harry potter fanfiction #harry potter x y/n #harry potter imagines #Harry Potter imagine #different light #Draco Malfoy #Lucius Malfoy #Ron Weasley #the twins #hermione granger #narcissa malfoy #fred weasley x reader #fred weasley x malfoy!reader #fred weasley x y/n

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