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jasonrae117 · 1 year ago

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Just Another Hollywood Scene

CHAPTER 2- Media Frenzied

Damian was furious, that insufferable woman at the pathetic excuse for a coffee shop made him look like a complete asshole when in reality he was simply trying to expedite the process because they were taking too long. Now here he was drinking the subpar coffee in the lobby, grinning at his win. That will be the last time I see her.

“Ahem, Damian?” The receptionist, Barbara Gordon, called.

He pulled himself out of his short lived reverie, “Yes Gordon?”

Ao3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/49727071/chapters/125517982

“I really wish you’d stop using my last name, reminds me of waiting for my dad to be done at the police station.”

“We are at our place of business, and we must conduct ourselves professionally.”

“You call me that no matter where I am!”

“Hm, instinct I suppose since I don’t see you that frequently outside of work hours. Anyway, what room is the meeting in? I’m already behind schedule, I don’t want to be late.” He leaned against the counter slightly.

“Whatever,” she rolled her eyes as she typed something into the computer. “Looks like your father canceled the meeting and rescheduled it to…friday at one o’clock.”

“Four days from now? But the article is supposed to be released tomorrow!” He almost yelled.

“Oh, there’s a note in the memo. The media team delayed the release until Friday as well, but at five.”

“They can’t be serious! What did my publicist have to say about this?” He took a step back and began pacing.

“Damian, I don’t know why or what happened, I just have the new times. Why don’t you ask your father or Dick?” She said gently while readjusting her glasses.

“No, I don’t need their excuses. Well then I’ll see you on Friday.” He huffed.

“Mm, not so fast there. You have a preliminary costume fitting on wednesday.”

Damian pinched the bridge of his nose. “Fine, I’ll see you on Wednesday.” He stormed out of the office building.

How could they just cancel the meeting discussing the procedures of handling the media frenzy. They were supposed to announce his involvement with the movie and begin his media tour to garner buzz for the movie. Now that it’s delayed the Gotham Gazette won’t be happy that they didn’t have their front page news when expected and that might reflect poorly on him, like they weren’t confident it would sell well.

Here’s the problem Damian always had when it came to his own stardom. Many people assumed he got his starring roles because of his father’s connection to the industry or his adopted brother’s ties, and while he in no way claims that he does not benefit from nepotism, a lot of the roles he earned on his own.

Damian started out like anyone else in this business, background roles or extras. Sure he had the best access to those roles, which he publicly thanked nepotism for, but he did his time in the background and it was other directors, lead actors and actresses, and the public that begged him to start aiming for starring roles. So, he did just that and he was a natural of course, you can’t live with one of the best actors in the world and not pick up some skills, but Damian brought something totally new to the game.

For starters, he was half Middle Eastern which he takes a lot of pride in and is happy to bring at least some representation to Hollywood. He also liked to think of himself as more in tune with his characters, that he delves deeper into who they were to better understand who they are. Not to discredit his father, but Damian simply believed he was in some ways, if not most, a better actor than anyone in his family. He wouldn’t dare openly admit that, but everyone around him seemed to suspect he felt that way.

Unfortunately Damian was somewhat of a diva. He had no intentions to be but when he sees something that can be better, he speaks up. If he thinks something is out of character or doesn’t make sense he brings his complaints to the writer and director. But the thing that most directors hate initially is that Damian would go off script and completely improvise very dramatic scenes.

Why then would he keep landing these roles if he is such a nuisance to work with? It’s because he was almost always right about the changes and his improvised scenes were arguably his best work and has won him countless awards. He was, plain and simple, a phenomenal actor.

Even with all the praise he gets, Damian still has to answer to the trolls that ruin every interview or live Q&A. The ones that demand he acknowledges his privilege with nepotism and being half white, which he does, every single time. It’s like these people don’t believe the awards or the raving reviews of his movie, or even the general consensus online. They make him feel like he has to continually prove himself, make a bigger name, to show that he is more than his father’s name. That’s why Dick went into directing, to get out of Bruce’s shadow.

Damian thinks that staying out of the public eye as much as possible will help his image and have him not come across as wanting to always be in the spotlight. But Bruce pointed out that all that does is make him seem like a recluse that only wishes to grace people with his presence when he has won something. Damian hates PR and having to do those talk shows or Buzzfeed Interviews but it's the only way he can change this image of himself according to his father. The only public thing Damian enjoys is his charity work with the zoos across the nation and the local animal shelters. Damian trusts animals more than people and he can tell they don’t think he is who he is purely because of his familial ties.

This life was exhausting but rewarding all at the same time, he wouldn’t give it up for anything. Which is why he was incredibly irritated they had rescheduled his article in the Gazette, because now that meant more PR meetings and probably more interviews to make up for the delayed information.

Damian had gone to his favorite vegan cafes a block down, he made the trip down here, might as well make it somewhat worth his time. As he was about to head out and back to his condo, he changed his path walking back toward the offices, promptly deciding to see if his father or brother were in so they could discuss the delay. When Damian got out of the elevator on the seventh floor a half dozen assistants and execs were milling about and chatting excitedly. When they saw him, some tried to scatter but still offered a polite smile.He gave a nod in their direction but continued his way towards Dick’s office.

He couldn’t clearly make out what they were talking about, but everyone was in unusually high spirits. The beginning of a large budget movie was often hell for everyone, so something must have recently happened to garner this much excitement.

As he approached the Dick’s office, Jason Todd came strolling out with the ever present smirk he always had. Damian had known Jason for almost half his life, he played one of Bruce’s sons in a project for several years and then got his own spinoff from that. He was your average roguishly handsome actor with a ‘I don’t give a shit’ mentality, he did come from nothing unlike Damian and worked his way to the top. He was in some theatre production at a local underfunded middle school that Bruce donated money to and stopped by to see their fall play. Bruce was blown away by Jason’s performance at such a young age, but what’s more is that when Bruce exited the theatre to go back to his car, he caught the young Jason trying to steal the tires. Instead of involving the police, Bruce introduced himself and offered to pay for acting lessons for the kid and got him a few auditions which he landed.

Since then, Jason has almost been a part of the family. Bruce and Jason didn’t always see eye to eye as Jason was brash and prone to scandal, but it was almost as if Bruce had officially adopted Jason, he was around the manor often enough, he might as well have been a legal son.

Still Damian was often annoyed by the slightly older man’s behavior, always feeling like Jason was squandering the opportunities his father gave him by being drunk in public and saying outlandish things, as well as literally fighting off paparazzi. He also toted around a new woman every week and it felt like gross behavior from someone who was given everything.

Damian resented Jason in some ways too, because the only thing that separated the two of them was that Bruce chose Jason to follow in his footsteps, but he was forced to give Damian those same opportunities. Except as the media saw Jason as an underdog story that made it big, Damian’s success was purely nepotism. Not to say Jason didn’t also deserve the roles he got, he was admittedly a good actor, but it wasn’t fair to be so similar yet treated so differently.

“Hey little D.” Jason said, meeting him a few steps from Dick’s office.

“Todd, what did I say about nicknames?” Damian narrowed his eyes at the taller man.

“To be fair, I don’t remember half the things you actually say to me. I try to block you out but your incessant complaining really knows how to pry its way in my head occasionally. “ He shrugged and was about to continue walking but he stopped himself just to the side of Damian’s shoulder. “We’re all in a pretty good mood, Dick especially. Try not to sour it for fucking everyone.” He patted him on the shoulder, which Damian instinctively shoved off.

“I only complain when there is something reasonable to complain about, and how other people perceive my constructive criticism is not my problem.”

“Yeah because telling me to stop wearing my leather jacket is such a reasonable complaint that entirely affects your life.” He rolled his eyes.

“You wear it year round and half the time you don’t even ride your motorcycle because you’re being driven around. It's pointless and you think it makes you look cool, but in actuality you look like an imbecile. But I’m glad to see that maybe the tides are changing since it seems to be absent from your outfit today.” Damian smirked smugly, but was confused to see Jason shoot back the same look.

“You’re wrong about pretty much everything you said just now, but I don’t give a rat’s ass what your opinion is on my outfits or why I chose to wear what I do, but I will let you in on a little secret. I was wearing my jacket today, took it off while I sat in on a few auditions for your little superhero movie, and now it rest on the shoulders of one fucking hot new actress in town that, and here is the secret,” He leaned into Damian’s space whispering, “ will probably be your leading lady.”

“Great so I may have to deal with some bimbo that probably slept her way into the audition and-” It was Damian’s turn to roll his eyes but Jason’s unforeseen shove made him stumble and swallow the rest of his sentence.

“Don’t fucking say things like that. She had a fantastic audition while also being fucking hot. Don’t be such a prick and just assume things about someone because I say she’s hot.”

“Only girls you think you have a chance with do you even bother bringing up and 90% of the time they’re bimbos so excuse me for jumping to conclusions. Besides, there’s still auditions for the roles over the next couple of days, we don’t know anything yet.” Damian took a step forward but looked over his shoulder, lowering his voice, “And don’t even think about laying hands on me again Todd, we’re not friends, and we are not family.”

“Fuck you little D, you used to be a touch nicer when you were younger, guess that stick never came out on its own. I can just see it now though, you being jealous when you see your co-star and knowing that you can’t have her because I already will.”

Damian fully turned to him now. “First, I don’t date coworkers. Second, anyone interested in you isn’t smart enough to be interesting to me.”

“Mark my words Dami.” Jason called out making his way down the hall and to the elevators.

Damian was already frustrated on his way up, now he was just down right pissed off. Jason sure as hell knew how to push his buttons. He tried his best to shake the conversation and took a deep breath before heading into his actual brother’s office.

“Hey D! Everything alright out there? I heard you and Jay’s conversation get a little heated.” Dick was milling about his office, collecting stacks of files together.

Dick’s office was very cluttered but in particular groupings. He thrived in organized chaos, he was a researcher at heart and made sure to analyze every bit of data before making a decision. It’s why he was such a good director, he really understood the background of his movies and would make sure they were as accurate as possible. His mahogany desk could barely be seen beneath the mounds of different colored folders representing anything from future projects, schedules, resumes, and even lunch menus to his favorite restaurants. The floor to ceiling window across the back wall of his office gave him an impressive view over the city and let a lot of natural light in. The office was still overall bright and clean, with off-white walls and light tan wooden panels, the light reflected well around it. Knick knacks from his early days with his real family in the traveling circus were placed neatly on the many bookshelves around the office. He had a plush couch and armchair in the corner facing a large flat screen TV and a coffee table that matched the rest of the wooden furniture in the room. On the other side of the desk were two comfy green velvet chairs for guests to use. It was minimalistic, but full of life. Damian didn’t feel cooped up in here like he did in Bruce’s office that had a much darker color palette.

“Just Todd being his usual irritating self.”

Dick set his current stack of papers he was carrying down and excitedly started searching for something else in a file cabinet. “He’s been in a better mood since the audition we saw today just before lunch, this Ra-”

“Dick, I really don’t care to hear about it right now. From what it sounds like, she probably isn’t worth the headache she’ll give us if she’s already throwing herself at Jason.” Damian sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose and taking a seat in front of the desk.

Dick straightened up, a perplexed expression resting on his face. “I wasn’t aware they knew each other, she just borrowed his jacket for the scene but he didn’t mention he knew her.”

“To be fair, I’m not sure how acquainted they currently are, but he made it clear he wanted to get more acquainted.” He scoffed.

“Well then I’m going to tell him to back off, I don’t want anything ruining the potential this girl has. I think she’s our girl. She is our sorceress!” He threw his arms dramatically into the air.

“Be reasonable, Dick. You still have more auditions for that role coming up. You were probably just hungry.”

“Maybe, but maybe not. I’m telling you, you’re going to love her. I can pull up her audition tape so you can see what I’m talking about.” Dick practically ran to his computer, typing in his password. He barely was able to hit enter when Damian snapped the laptop shut on his fingers. “Ow!”

“Not interested until you’ve seen the rest. I don’t like you making rash decisions, that’s Jason’s brand, not yours. Besides, I came here to talk about something actually important.”

“Idunno Dami, I have a feeling about this one. But I hear you and I’d hate to be rude to the people that have worked hard on their auditions and count them out just yet. So I'll finish them out and go from there. However, this is actually very important, arguably more important than what you’ve come here to discuss.This is our lead female hero, your right hand woman. She needs to be good enough to stand beside you.”

“You’re opening auditions for this massive role to anyone that can speak. I don’t know why you didn’t just go with someone we’ve worked well with before.” He crossed his arms.

Dick leaned his forearms on the desk. “ Like who? You’ve berated me for anyone I’ve ever suggested. Besides, how are we gonna evolve as an industry if we keep using the same handful of actors, it gets boring. I want fresh talent, and the chance to give someone their big break!”

“How charitable. I haven’t hated everyone you’ve said. Brown was okay to work with.” Damian huffed.

“Stephanie is not the right fit for this role, the Sorceress is dark, mysterious, temperamental. Steph plays the girl next door, happy go lucky type. Plus she hates you.”

Damian shrugged “True.” He always had a hard time with his female co-stars, either they were hired because they were pretty but couldn’t act their way out of a paper bag or they wanted to start a relationship with him to increase buzz surrounding the movie. He tried that once with Emiko Queen and after the movie premiered, just as he was coming around to it being a real relationship, she breaks it off right before announcing her next movie. He felt used and she somehow spun the tale to make him out to be the bad guy, and with his record, it wasn’t hard to sell. He swore that he’d never do that again, or even date co-stars in general.

He’d done a pretty good job of making it clear from the beginning, but some leading ladies still tried, thinking they could change his mind. They never did.

“Anyway, if you came here to appeal the press release date change, I’m sorry but there’s nothing we can do about it.” Dick opened his laptop once more and typed something.

“You don’t understand how bad this is going to make me look to the Gazette, and if they mention it to anyone else, it’ll be even worse. If this is because you guys are afraid about what I-” Damian was leaning forward in his chair, his voice raising just a little.

“Damian, stop. Everything will be fine. We wanted to wait until your costume fitting so we can send some pictures with the announcement so people see this is happening and real and that we stand behind you fully. Bruce explained everything to the editor-in-chief and told them how much the pictures were going to enhance the story and they agreed. Plus with first look photos of the costumes, all the blogs are going to be jumping on the news and spreading it. By Saturday, everyone will know you’re heading my movie!”

“But won’t this put us behind schedule for the press tour?”

“Not at all, I didn’t schedule your first talk show until the following week as a precaution if we didn’t gather much wave of media presence. But I now worry we’re going to cut our impression short with the new stuff you'll be talking about." He was now reclined back in his seat, hands folded in his lap.

Damian wanted to argue, but it did all make sense. "And the other cast announcements?"

"All will be released in due time. I'll probably save the Sorceress announcement until last though, really build up speculation and buzz."

"Not to mention drama." Damian muttered.

"Hey, drama isn't all that bad when it's speculation." Dick retorted, pointing at him.

“This feels like the ‘no such thing as bad publicity’ excuse. And that always goes horribly wrong.” He crossed his arms, slouching a touch into the chair.

“That’s because it kinda is Dami boy. Except it’s truly not bad publicity, sure some people will get disheartened that it’s not their pick, but we’re working with entirely original material, no fanboys to worry about.” Dick seemed way too relaxed for a director releasing what is thought to be the biggest movie of the decade.

“You still seem to be grossly overestimating the weight of the news about the Sorceress.” Damian stood from his chair and did his best to brush the wrinkles from his suit.

“And you seem to be a misogynist that doesn’t think his female co-star is as important as him!” Dick said firmly as he stood as well, palms on his desk with his body leaning towards the accused.

Damian sputtered his words, his eyes darting for anything to come to his mind right now. “I am not a misogynist! I just think that after my announcement, everyone else is gonna hold the same weight.” He settled his hands on his hips to help him look confident in his statement, but Dick could see right through it and Damian knew it.

“Admit that you’re scared some relatively unknown actress is gonna steal your limelight.”

“That’s not it.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah…” Damian watched as Dick slowly sat back down, a calm smile on his face as he rested his right ankle on the knee of his other leg and folded his fingers in his lap. “Ok, maybe I think that we are putting too much stock in the idea, but maybe I’m worried that my chance to change the public's opinion of me is going to be overshadowed, especially with how big you’re acting like it’s going to be!”

“Let it out, Dami. We can’t ease your mind if we don’t know what’s going on inside of it. Look, I know that the press has been up your ass since the Emiko incident. But anyone that’s worth anything knows the truth and will not hire her ever again. But if our sorceress is the next big thing, it may not hurt for her to like you…not in any sort of romantic way. Lord knows we won’t push that angle again, but literally just think you are a decent guy.” Damian scowled at his older brother implying the task for the new girl to be difficult. “Then, if she does reach mega popularity as we hope, then she’ll be willing to do interviews with you and about you and then everyone can see how…charming you really are.”

“I see you and your committee have put a lot of thought into this. It would be foolish to not give your theory at least a small glimmer of a chance.” Damian pulled away from the desk and headed toward the door. He turned ¾ of the way back to Dick, “But she has to be tolerable too, I won’t fake liking someone just because it’ll be good press, someone will notice eventually and then it’ll blow up in your face.”

“I wouldn’t want it any other way Damian. Now I’ll see you Wednesday for a moment to check on your costume, but we’ll really touch base again on Friday. Have a great rest of your day Dami.”

Damian nodded in response, closing the door behind but watching Dick’s annoying cheery smile disappear behind the door. He really hoped that they cast this role well because it’ll either be hell or the best thing to happen to him in a while.

#raven #teen titans #raven roth #robrae #damian wayne #damirae #jayrae #dc fanfic #hollywood au

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asha-mage · 11 months ago

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On the third day near the edge of a cliff they found what might have been a tower, though it was long since half collapsed and, to Jasin and Rand’s stunned realization, slightly melted in places. The steps had been intact enough for them to climb to the top, and there, among long weathered battlements, they built a bonfire and made camp. As night had fallen, Jasin had drawn out his hand-carved harp from the case he always kept it in, and sat on the crumbling wall to play, while the others danced, Mat and Egwene following, Perrin and Rand leading in their gentle sweeping turns around the circle of firelight. Jasin had started with sad songs- things that had seemed to fit that strange mysterious place: The Wind that Shakes the Willow, The Man Who Can’t Forget, Whispers of Blaze. It would have felt wrong for him to play any of the songs he was more practiced at- to dishonor that place with Only One Bucket Of Water or Toss the Feathers, yet it wasn’t long before he found tears threatening the edges of his eyes, and he changed tact to some of the more dignified but still upbeat pieces he knew. Coming Home From Tarwin’s Gap, Weep for Manetheren, and finally Lament for Astrael. “Beautiful Astrael, where the river meets the sea, Sing, sing, of the winds bringing him home to me, Winter’s gone and whispered far, and summer’s yet to bloom, But he’ll return, on spring’s clean burn, my love, my love, my love to me…” As the last few notes faded Jasin realized that the others had ceased their dancing. Egwene was curled up against the wall dozing, while Perrin was adjusting the fire with a long branch he had brought up for that purpose. Mat was leaning near the stairs, enjoying an illicit pipe that he was in no way yet old enough to be smoking while Rand… Rand had wandered over and was staring at Jasin, his expression unreadable. No- not him, Jasin realized- his hands, his harp. “That’s beautiful.” Rand said finally and Jasin felt himself lose focus and strike a sour note, cringing at the sound. He gave himself a shake, blinking his eyes to refocus his vision. He hadn't even realized that he began playing something else. Rand didn't seem to mind the sour note as he sat down beside Jasin on the wall, shoulder to shoulder, turning his gaze up to the stars. “I’ve never heard anything like it. Did you learn it from one of your grandfather’s music books?” Jasin shook his head and frowned, trying to recall the notes he had been playing. “No.” He said slowly. “I didn’t. This is something else I-“ He peered down at his hands. Hesitantly, he laid a hand on the harp and plucked the strings he thought he had used in as close to the order as he could remember. It was...new. Unique. And yet familiar too, like a half-recalled memory. He wondered where he had picked it up- it wasn’t like wandering minstrel’s came through the Two Rivers all that often. “I like it.” Rand said with a smile, pressing their shoulders together. “Does it have a name? “Conden Modero.” Jasin said, then shook himself in shock. Rand blinked, clearly not understanding. But Jasin did, though he didn’t know how. He could not have named the language of those words, or where they had come from, but he knew they meant March of Death. Another sad song, but beautiful too.

-- Phantom Love

My (very very late I am incredibly sorry!) submission for the @feast-of-lights Not So Secret Santa event! My chosen giftee was @darkfeanix and I really hope this was worth the weight. He asked for Randmodean which is one of those pairings I have an incredible soft spot for and well....it uh. Got away from me a bit, to the tune of 18k words. A huge thanks as always to my amazing beta @highladyluck and her incredible patience with me on this one. It would not be nearly as a good a work without her input.

Marry Winter Night to Darkfeanix and a huge happy new year to everyone! As a bonus, have the tags I threw up on A03 as a extra teaser to the fic's content.

#wot secret santa 2023 #WoT #Wheel of Time #WoT Fanfic #WoT Book Spoilers #TFOH Spoilers #Asmodean #Rand al'Thor #Jasin Natael #Cenn Buie #Tam al'Thor #Moiraine Damodred #Randmodean #Rand x Asmodean #joar addam nessosin

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day6source · 8 months ago

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hello my loves!!!! long time no talk!!!!! 💕💕🫶🏻🫶🏻 things have been very crazy and insane lately, between doctors appointments for me, a pending surgery for my step-dad, taking care of my niece, and everything else in between. but!! the long awaited day6 comeback is finally upon us in two hours!!! some of you might know i got into day6 right around the time 'right through me' and eternal dropped, and i was so excited! and then...they all immediately enlisted lmao. as i described to a friend the other day, i felt like i was led into a looney tunes style trap discovering them. having to wait out that time was awful, but we slowly got them all back and now! we're finally here! if you were around for 'letters with notes' i'll be pretty vigilant in getting everything posted (mostly) on time, first few days is always kind of insane, but it should all be up in a decently timely manner! i am making a change in regards to video call stuff, mostly in that if it's not available in a global sense, i probably won't post about it, mostly because they can be kinda finicky in regards to even applying, and i don't want to lead you guys into a false sense of excitement. if they are though, don't worry! i got you! gonna keep the masterpost updated as well, performances, promo, etc. also! guys!

what!!! that is insane!! within the coming weeks i'm gonna see about if there's going to be any more mmt events like before, and maybe do another little giveaway! especially because the one year anniversary of the blog is in about a month or so? ah!! i always say this, but i love getting to share things with you guys and read everyone's tags and see everyone's reactions, it's such a cool experience, and i'm glad everyone here is just so cool.mp3. i love you guys so much, you truly have no idea how much fun i have doing this, it means the world to me. on that note...i think that's it! if you wanna hit me up to talk about whatever, changed my url a while ago to @briankang, and! if you'd like to take part in the day6revival week from last week...well you still can and i'll still reblog things especially since i fell a little behind as well, just tag it with #day6revival, and make sure to check out everyone else's amazing creations as well! we're celebrating all through promotions as a huge welcome home to our silly, goofy, sweet band boys. the ask box is always open here of course too, and you know i always love hearing from you all. i'm going to enjoy my last few hours of peace before comeback, but i hope you've all been staying happy and healthy and you continue to, and if you haven't, i hope this new album brings you some kind of peace for the spring. spring is all about new starts, so if you've been feeling out of sorts, it's a great chance to wipe fresh and start anew. i love you, i love you, i love you, i love you, tay 💕💕💕💕🍀🍀🍀🍀

#[admin post]

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animehouse-moe · 1 year ago

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June 2023 Collection Update: The Iceberg

You know the comparison I'm making here. You start at the tip of the iceberg, and think it's not too bad, then you continue working your way down.... and it just keeps going, never seeming to stop. Well, I think I've made it past the surface of the iceberg, and am staring down the absolute scale of what remains submerged. So yeah, Mt. Everest is left to climb still, but I've also got a pretty sizeable hill behind me to share.

I'll start with a haul that came in today (and one I picked up yesterday). Used manga and light novels has been a gold mine for me lately, though you do have to be careful with some listings as you might get volumes in worse conditions than they appear (though most of the time not something sandpaper can't fix).

The No Game No Life was just sorta a bonus to the Is This A Zombie?, but it actually helped bring down the cost per volume thanks to a deal I made (always try and barter for a few dollars here and there through stuff like FB Marketplace and Mercari and the like). I'd been looking for Is This A Zombie? for a while though, and was incredibly excited to come across a completed set. Though I do wish they'd bring the light novels over.

Following this up, or I guess coming before it(?), was this very interesting manga haul which is best explained as a story.

Originally, I had found a dirt cheap Rosario to Vampire manga box set on Facebook Marketplace (to the tune of 90CAD), and asked about getting more pictures because the only image was of the outside of the box set. Seller doesn't respond for a week, and then sends the image out of nowhere. I talk about going through with the sale and getting a shipping label sorted out (cause even with shipping it'd be crazy cheap). They don't respond, at least not until Thursday of last week which was about another week's wait. They say "hey, I'm going to be in your city on Sunday, are you good to meet me to pick up the set?". Immediately, I feel like I'm either going to get scammed or mugged, but it was neither. They show up with the 90 dollar box set and I leave with all my organs and my wallet alongside the box set.

Now, onto a bit of explanation. As you could tell from the images above, I'm kinda running out of space. I know, I need to get another bookshelf to store it all on, but finding the right spot for it and getting a cheaper Billy is a PITA, so instead I've been putting that focus and effort into finding more and more cool sets and series.

Like this Reiko The Zombie Shop. It's an older Josei horror series which I thought was super cool, and when I found a listing for it for just around 10CAD a vol I jumped on it. It's a very interesting piece of history to have from Dark Horse as they only printed it to the halfway point, though it's also a very intriguing read. Leans very heavy into gore and that very "serious but not all that great" story.

Equal parts crazy and cool though, this Empty Box and Zeroth Maria set. If memory serves, it was less than 10CAD a volume for such a hard to find set. Unbelievably happy to have such a well maintained set in my collection, and am 100% going to be sharing the love/set with friends.

Just a side note, the seller I got it from was super cool, as I got a partial set of Konosuba from them as well for the same price. Once more, Facebook Marketplace, so if you're looking for good deals on used series, I can't recommend checking out what's around you enough.

The good deals just keep on coming, huh. Hit the jackpot with this Rose of Versailles set. I was just going to bide my time until the end of year Indigo hardcover sale, and see if I could try my luck on finding them in store at a good price, but came across this listing for 100CAD and immediately jumped on it, since it works out to be massively cheaper than the Indigo 30% off hardcovers they do at year's end.

And I have to say, Udon hardcovers are outstanding. The Rose of Versailles of course stands at the top with it's wonderfully intricate cover design and heavy and glossy paper, but their other titles are no slouches either.

Just take a look at this Summertime Rendering (and Darling In The Franxx) set. Sometimes you'll come across things you just can't refuse. This listing was one of them. Summertime Rendering and DiTF for less than the retail of Summertime Rendering. Good deal, especially when you factor in that DiTF is still sealed, and that the seller never read Summertime Rendering.

But at the same time, getting books in conditions like this feels a bit sad almost. The seller was getting rid of their collection because they needed to repay students loans, so a lot of it was untouched and at very cheap prices. If I were to go back and do it again, I probably would have just sent money to them rather than purchased the sets, as I feel somewhat guilty having these when I'm able to pay retail for them no problem. But I can't revisit the past, so at the very least I'm glad I had the humility to not try and work them down on price, and will certainly be reading them over and over (DiTF is still on the TBR list right now though).

And last but not least for the used hauls, this super weird set. I got the whole thing for 5CAD a volume, which is a pretty great deal, and includes a lot of interesting things. Hidamari Sketch (I refuse to call it Sunshine Sketch), GA Geijutsuka Art Design Class and Bamboo Blade (not shown), and this very odd helping of loose stuff that includes an old style Seven Seas LN, a child's manga, and a very unique volume from a defunct publisher.

I couldn't help but go for it when I saw the oddities and old series that were within. Hidamari Sketch in particular is a headache and a half to collect, and I'd never even seen a volume of Iono-Sama Fanatics before. Very cool stuff, and definitely things I wanted to share. I never even knew Seven Seas used to print light novels so small, and seeing the difference in paper quality circa Spring 2010 was very interesting as well.

Now, last but not least, Jojos. I waited a very long time to buy these at retail, and am incredibly sad that the box for Jojoveller came crumpled in that one corner (already talked it out with support, and got a refund on it), but thankfully the books inside are intact. But man, these things are cool as all hell, I'll absolutely be sharing a post of them (alongside Jojo 6521) down the road.

And that's where I am, collecting an insane number of series and art books, and continuing to realize just how wide this world of manga is that I've immersed myself in. It's incredibly daunting thinking about the numbers I'm racking up, but at the same time it's such an amazing hobby that I'm able to support. There's a world of stuff out there, and I want to experience that all.

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billk128 · 3 months ago

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Jesse Malin Finds the Light (+ sidelong musings)

Greener pastures always wait for you You can make it tonight

So ends the Jesse Malin song Greener Pastures, here the final track on his "Chasing the Light (Live)" CD released this past spring (the package also comes with a Blu-Ray disc of performances with an alternate slate of songs). The lines close the book on a record themed with overcoming obstacles to live one's life, while looking both forward and back on what life has delivered.

What life has delivered to Malin - a vibrant indie rock/club figure in New York City, 57 years of age with 4 decades in the business - was a rare spinal cord stroke late spring of 2023, that left him paralyzed from the waist down. This is a performer who works a room old school and interactively, traversing crowds for a deeper connection, leaving the stage breathless like the best performers often do.

youtube

The album's songs and their sequence feel purposefully rueful and ultimately hopeful (Malin remains unfailingly positive), and are punctuated with the joyful kind of playing that Malin pulls from his band. Recorded live, albeit sans actual crowds - the sleeve cites "no overdubs" but there were more than one takes. Regardless, the sound is crisp and the vibe is fluid, highlighting the capabilities of the players and the subtle musical depth to the songs themselves.

A trio of tunes that open and close the record tightrope across its themes as well, with the excellent opener State of the Art setting the tone (and aided by Tommy Stinson's garage-raw rhythm guitar contribution); later Malin gets Stonesy with Meet Me At the End of the World, and then finishes with the folkier, poignant Greener Pastures.

Jesse may indeed be chasing the light given the physical hit he took, but this record is another example of him bringing the light to us. And this was just a beginning - in late June, a show (including multiple guests) at the Beacon Theater in NYC on 12/1 was announced, which sold out, and 2nd show on 12/2 was added. I don't know if the extensive physical therapy Malin has been undergoing in Argentina has changed much, but I will be at that 12/1 show to see for myself. Info on the shows and their varied artists, plus on a tribute album coming out in September appear here.

Pearl Jam's Grab Bag

For any believer still paying attention, Pearl Jam has released 5 solid records starting with 2006's eponymously named pseudo-return to form, with the recent "Dark Matter" rounding out the set. I occasionally find myself thinking that Eddie Vedder's powerful baritone can leaden their sound at times, but the band is skin tight and Mike McCready's guitar leads are nimble and reliable, and all of that continues on the latest offering.

I also felt they might have been dabbling and/or having fun with both contemporary and influential artist sounds within their own battle-tested framework on this record. There are several examples, so choosing one, the radio released Wreckage, and its Tom Petty samplings.

The song in general espouses the chiming timbres of Petty's signature work, along with backing vocals echoing both Heartbreakers and solo Petty recordings, perhaps leaning towards the Jeff Lynne-produced choral flavors of the solo albums. More specifically, starting at 2:20, the guitar break hints at what later culminates with a riff from Petty's Learning to Fly (after a series of Vedder's signature emoting) from 3:55-4:05, and echoed in the ending notes of the song. Otherwise, the backing chorals adroitly bring stylings of both Petty and Guided by Voices' lead man Robert Pollard together, Pollard having spent a period opening for Pearl Jam some 15+ years ago that retains its impact.

And finally...

Low Cut Connie is a Philadelphia-based band fronted and driven by Adam Weiner, and 2020's Private Lives was an unexpected career milestone that merits discovery and multiple listens. So I found myself surprised to have missed the 2023 follow up "Art Dealers."

And if not as memorable as "Private Lives" the record achieves as an encouraging follow up and reimagining of the previous record's sweet spots. While the results lean a little more Elton John than Jerry Lee Lewis, the passion remains and the sonic palette expanded. Two samples:

The Motown-flecked leadoff track, Tell Me Something I Don't Know;

and King of the Jews, which doubles down on both ethnic roots and this local bar band's Philly soul genesis...

#Youtube

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airadam · 2 years ago

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Episode 167 : More Tune

"We on they mood board, though they livin' in denial."

- Solace

This month's selection came together slowly and then all at once! It's turned out to be a great combination of deep album cuts, some lesser-known bonus tracks and remixes, as well as some brand new nuggets you can and should add to your collection! Of course I had to give you some Guru, and we start the episode with a cover version of a record that samples another musical giant, the recently and sadly departed Ahmad Jamal.

Don't forget that you can get the up-to-date list of my upcoming streams and events at events.airadam.com!

Twitter : @airadam13

Twitch : @airadam13

Playlist/Notes

Elzhi & Will Sessions : The World Is Yours

RIP to the great Ahmad Jamal, the legendary pianist who was famously sampled on the original "The World Is Yours" on the classic Nas "Illmatic" LP. As we've already played that on the podcast, we instead turn to the excellent re-imagining of that album by the all-Detroit combination of the band Will Sessions and the gifted MC Elzhi. It's always interesting when a musician is sampled by a Hip-Hop producer, and then that production later remade by other live musicians - bringing things full circle.

The Quarter Inch Kings : I'm No Comeback

As part of the Beat Tape Project, Toronto's Quarter Inch Kings channel some soulful flavour on this instrumental from "The AZ Beat Tape" - one that I could very well hear the Brooklyn Legend on.

Masta Ace & Marco Polo : Masta Polo

I was almost going to describe Marco Polo as one of the new generation of producers, but then I realised - it's been eighteen years! Still fresh, yet a veteran, he combines with a legend from the Juice Crew, Brooklyn's Masta Ace, for some classy 21st century boom-bap. You need to find the Deluxe edition of the Polo-produced "A Breukelen Story" album to get this one, and it's well worth the effort.

Terri Walker ft. Ty : OK

One of the finest soul singers these isles have ever produced, though an underappreciated one, Terri Walker has always shown love to the home team, with this track being a great example. The Nottingham stalwart Joe Buhdha is behind the boards, and the late London don TY warms up the mic before Ms Walker strides over the instrumentation. You might know her first few LPs, but definitely check for the later stuff, such as the EP this track was release on, "Joe Buhdha Presents Breakout". RIP Ty, live long Terri Walker.

Gang Starr : 2 Deep (City Lick Mix)

This is one of my earliest Hip-Hop 12" purchases, and a version of the Gang Starr classic deep single that I had to grow into! The UK's Dodge City Productions were, in retrospect, a perfect choice to take on remix duties here, a group well-steeped in the jazz that Gang Starr had helped pioneer as part of Hip-Hop. The late great Guru is in fine form, on his grown man business over all three verses - starting closer to battle mode and then weaving in his message. Apparently a Europe-only release, this is a worthy version to stand next to the original from the "Daily Operation" LP.

Curren$y : Fortune 500

This is clearly an anthem for LLC Twitter, with one long verse about getting that cash, and the outro showing Curren$y quizzing the next generation. The brand new "For Motivational Use Only" LP is another in the set of releases where Curren$y links up with a single producer to build a cohesive whole - in this case, the veteran Jermaine Dupri. I'd be lying if I said it was a collaboration that I was thinking about, but it works!

Medline : Payé Entièrement

Sound familiar? If you didn't guess from the title, this is a wicked instrumental cover of the classic "Paid In Full" by Eric B & Rakim that just cannot be denied. You can head straight over to Bandcamp to get the digital version as a bonus cut on the "Je Sais Que Tu As De L'Âme" release (put that into Google Translate if you don't speak French) - really, an essential pickup in my opinion.

Knaladeus : Lose Or Win

Not in terms of complexity as such, but in terms of tone, does Knaladeus here remind you of Black Thought at all? Either way, self-produced dopeness with quality songwriting from this artist out of Florida, one of the early tracks on his 2018 "Letters To You" album. His heartfelt lyrics on top of that beat are already a great blend, but the cherry is provided by DJ Stranger's cuts, drawing from the lyrics of Guru - once I heard those, this track was a lock for this episode.

Onra : 1-4 TONI

If you like a track with instructions (think "Jump Around", or hell, even "The Time Warp"), then this is up your street. That said, if you weren't already nodding your head to this one, you might want to clear your ears out first! Nice beat by the man from Paris, a 2018 track that went unreleased until Valentine's Day this year.

Superbad Solace : Throwing Fits

One for the Lo heads, from one of the foremost representatives currently recording! Solace has done it again with his "Sol Controller 3" project, and this track dedicated to the art of getting fresh is a personal favourite. The references to the Ralph Lauren brand and lifestyle are numerous, but as Solace points out, "you can buy gear, but you can't buy style"! The beat by Mono en Stereo makes you feel like you need to be posing on a yacht for a catalogue somewhere :)

Panama Gat : So Lonely

This man has a spectacular MC name, though it feels a little wrong to point it out when the subject of his song on this episode is so serious. It's raw at times, but that's often how it goes when you're expressing real emotion. On the production front, the soul-sampling beat reminds you of the work of Kanye West and Just Blaze around the same era, but it's not a bite in any way. I'm not sure who put it together, but my guess is 9th Wonder, as this is part of the Justus League "Just Us, Vol. 6" mixtape.

Leavv : Within

A little of that Chillhop flavour for you, with Leavv coming from Germany but this track coming from some kind of dreamland where even the passing clouds come with a bumping drum accompaniment. Find this on the "Chillhop Essentials - Fall 2017" collection, which even now is available as a "name your price" release on Bandcamp!

Ilajide : Boom Shakalak

I'd almost forgotten this track from "#0414917"! The programming of this beat by one of Detroit's finest is on a half-time vibe which makes it feel much slower than the 100bpm than it measures at, and he works that by keeping his flow on the mic downtempo too.

Tha Chill ft. Kokane : RNO

Part of the respected Compton's Most Wanted, Tha Chill missed out on featuring on two of the group's LPs due to legal troubles, but bounced back from them and not only reunited with the crew but has a solid set of solo releases to his name. This track is from the 2020 "Fohead" LP, and I think may be self-produced - the instrumental embodies his name, with it being a little dark and cold, and moderately uptempo without being hectic. On the mic he's joined by another "if you know, you know" west coast legend, Pomona's Kokane, an artist well worth exploring in his own right.

Sepalot ft. Blu : Surrender

Rough, angular, lurching electronic rawness! Heading back over to Germany (Munich, to be precise), we pick up this B-side from the 2008 "She Likes Me" 12", loaded with synths and disembodied yells. It's a challenging background for an MC, but Blu, who you might know for considerably more gentle material, handles it with no problem at all.

Erick Sermon ft. MC Lyte and Rah Digga : Tell Me (If You Don't Feel Me)

Erick Sermon is a respected MC in his own right, but part of his production greatness is in knowing when to draft in even more firepower, as he does here on the 2002 "React" album! Two different generations (in terms of career period, if not age) combine to burn up the guest features here, with Brooklynite MC Lyte and Newark's Rah Digga bringing it home over Erick's beat, which very much has the flavour of the era.

Dâm-Funk : The Flow

The "STFU II" EP is - relatively speaking - a chilled collection for the Pasadena modern funk legend. This track has clean, gliding keyboard pads, but also the right weight of drums and synth bass, plus the tempo, to allow you to dance to it if that's how you feel. Dâm-Funk has been building up a very respectable discography since his 2008 debut single - take some time to explore it if you haven't already.

DJ Quik ft. Ludacris : Spur Of The Moment / Pacific Coast Remix

This might not be the most progressive track in the world, but it sounds absolutely fantastic, still. A standout on 2005's "Trauma" album, in shows how skilled DJ Quik is not just as a producer (and MC), but also as a mixer/engineer. The sunshiney vibes pour out of this one, and Ludacris, who my Twitch crowd all seem to agree is an underrated MC, hits the mark perfectly as a guest. This track seems to have a different title depending on whether you have the CD or vinyl of the album, but the only difference between them is how you rewind it to play it again once it fades out!

Please remember to support the artists you like! The purpose of putting the podcast out and providing the full tracklist is to try and give some light, so do use the songs on each episode as a starting point to search out more material. If you have Spotify in your country it's a great way to explore, but otherwise there's always Youtube and the like. Seeing your favourite artists live is the best way to put money in their pockets, and buy the vinyl/CDs/downloads of the stuff you like the most!

Check out this episode!

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alice-angel12x · 3 years ago

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Royal Flush Pt.1

Twisted Wonderland Royalty Au (Riddle X royalty! Reader) Part 2 here

(authers note: I might make up so fun lore just for my mini royal au)

"Remember, keep your head held high. And never slouch or bow your head to anyone," Mother said sternly.

"Yes Dear Mother," I said with as wide a mouth as possible, perfect posture, and my toes turned outward.

"Ooh, my darling baby is all grown up and is so handsome/beautiful. I can't understand why you want to go to school when we could get you a private teacher," Mother said, changing her tune suddenly.

From a strict queen mother to a smothering helicopter parent. She then proceeded to smother my face with many kisses. Father soon had to pull mother back from me, so my face wouldn't be covered in lipstick.

Soon the carriage arrived, and it was off to NRC. Of course, Y/n didn't need targets on his back so he kept his royal status to himself and the School Staff.

While many simply paid Y/n no mind, finding them not interesting. Riddle would notice something. How the teachers seemed to give this student special treatment, and the cafeteria ghosts seemingly pamper this student. To top it all off this Y/n student was seemingly lazy and laid back.

This really ticked Riddle off. Only to top it all off they shared every class together. One day, Riddle was having a hard time concentrating, when Y/n was staring off out the window. Not even hiding the fact they were not even paying attention to professor Trein. So Riddle decided to say something, as the Dorm leader of Heartslabyul he had to help keep the students of NRC in line. So after class, he called out.

"You know if you keep fooling around in class, you're going to find yourself behind on the material and on grades," Riddle said sternly.

"Oh, what's this? The Heartslabyul leader is concerned about me?" Y/n asked with a sly smirk.

"W-well, not necessarily. I want all of my all of Heartslabyul to succeed and become number one in academics," Riddle stuttered slightly.

"Oh, well it's hard to fall behind on things I already know," Y/n said simply.

"Still, you are breaking rules of Professor Triens, and you have been missing from many Heartslabyul events recently," Riddle glared.

"I'm tired from all that tea. And nothing interesting happens at those unbirthday parties," Y/n sighed as they leaned against the wall. " and I've won every croquet match, I'm not missing out on anything."

"Rule #22, all card soldiers must attend Heartslabyul events and festivals," Riddle said lowly.

"Ugh, fine. I'll be there but I'm not sticking around for the whole thing," Y/n said dismissively as they walked away.

Riddle would have beheaded them if he wasn't almost late for his meeting.

As Riddle turned the corner, y/n quickly hurried to a more secluded section of the hall. Holding their hand up to the wall, the Royal queen of heart's insignia appeared on the back of their hand.

The brick quickly made its way to reveal a hidden passage. Y/n quickly entered the passage as the bricks quickly hide the entrance. It was thanks to these secret rooms and passages, that Y/n was able to avoid Riddle's wrath for so long without getting caught.

There were so many times Riddle had ordered Y/n to remain locked out of Heartslabyul. Y/n simply used their secret knowledge of the school to sneak back inside. This drove Riddle up the walls for months.

Yet one way or another Y/n would find some way to weasel their way out of trouble.

___________________

This year's unbirthday party was interesting, to say the least, the first years Ace, deuce, and the magicless student Yuu totally pissed off Riddle. First by bringing the wrong type of tart, and then calling him an idiot.

"You have some nerve mouthing off to me like that! Listen carefully. Even the smallest rule infraction gives rise to a bigger issue!" Riddle growled.

"Yeah right," Y/n said, cutting through the whispered and mummers of the dorm.

"What! What are you saying…?" Riddle glared his face slowly turning red.

"You’re not capable of thinking for yourself!? How can you be a ruler if you don't have a mind for yourself? It's mother this and mother that for you. You let her rules dictate your life," Y/n said with a serious glare of their own.

"You know nothing and yet… You don’t know anything about me and yet…!" Riddle struggled to say.

"I don't need to, through observation I could get the general picture," Yuu said slowly.

"Shut up, shut up, SHUT UP!! QUIET!!! Mother is right! That’s why I am also right!!"

Riddle suddenly burst with negative energy as the ink of blot quickly consumed. Everything fell into chaos from there.

______________________

Pt.2?

#twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #Twisted Wonderland Royalty AU #twisted wonderland riddle #riddle rosehearts #heartslabyul x reader #twst x reader #disney twisted wonderland #twst wonderland #riddle x reader #riddle roseheart x reader

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literaila · 3 years ago

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ten seconds of space.

spencer reid x reader

summary: the reader overhears spencer ask for space and well...

warnings: angst, seperation anxiety, intimacy issues, fluff, contridicting myself every sentence.

a/n: hi darlings! so, maybe you know, that a year ago i started writing again. and maybe you also know that exactly a year ago (in two hours!) i posted my first fic called “space”. it was a birthday present to myself, and so now, so is this. if you enjoyed space i hope you’ll enjoy this! (the only differences are.. improvements i hope). thank you for reading, and getting me here.

the first one here.

it was something in the air, sure.

it must’ve been something uncontrollable, unexplainable. something in the air.

that’s why you’re staring at him, now, watching him with a familiar sensation in your stomach.

love, maybe? pain, possibly. maybe it’s just because you haven't eaten anything yet, or maybe this feeling is real. you don’t really care, you know.

you just stare, watch his eyelashes flutter against his cheek and resist the urge to reach out to him. in so many ways, you’re resisting the urge.

it’s mornings like this— since nearly a week ago —that you adore most. mornings when you can just pretend until the alarm goes off. when you don’t have to sleep, cold, next to him.

it’s something in the air, something around you, on mornings like this. if you have to put the blame somewhere— and you do because this is shameful, because this is ridiculous and you hate it —you’re going to put it on the air.

and the sun, and the blankets, and your emotions, and this infuriatingly beautiful man who is lying next to you. and those words, terrible words that just won’t-

it’s an immature deflection that you don’t care to think about.

you breathe in, one, two seconds. then, close your eyes and memorize the scent.

your hand reaches out, your eyes are still closed, not ever daring to actually touch spencer’s skin. (never). but, coming just close enough to his cheek, just right there. the warmth, tiny, superfluous, is just enough to keep your hand from daring any closer.

it’s enough to keep the words at bay. to avoid that swell in your chest.

to make sure he’s still sleeping.

…you didn’t mean to eavesdrop. honestly, you trusted spencer, you trusted your friends, and you knew that spencer would tell you if something was going on.

well, used to.

it wasn’t your fault, really, that you slipped up. that you stood on the other side of the door (cracked only slightly, just enough for you to hear) and listened to every word he said.

it was an accidental pause, one that you might wince at every time you thought back. but still, you didn’t mean to eavesdrop.

especially not when he was talking about you, telling JJ that he-

you breathe in again. force the memory away from the front of your mind. you turn to check the clock, making sure to never let your hand drift too far down, and frown when you catch the numbers.

there’s only a few more minutes left of this morning, of this moment. you want to savour every second, but really, how can you do that when you’re not even supposed to be looking at him in the first place?

a scoff emerges from the silence, not loud enough to wake spencer, but enough to bring your attention back to that feeling in your stomach.

love, you swear. why would you be feeling anything else?

you steal another look. watch his parted lips, breathing, watch his eyebrows, his nose, his cheek, his eyelids, and his skin. his skin.

you’re looking at it all, and you know it’s not really there but you can hear something counting down the seconds in your mind. reminding you that this is it. it’s cruel.

finally, you let one fingertip trail along the space under his eyes, you let one fingertip move across his cheek and bask in the exhilaration. spencer doesn’t stir. doesn’t breathe.

you smile, for only a moment.

and then, there’s ten seconds, and you’re moving away from spencer.

there’s nine seconds and the smile on your face is gone.

there’s eight seconds left, left, and you’re closing your eyes briefly. trying to keep that feeling from tearing through them.

there’s seven seconds and you’re rolling on your side, facing away from him.

six seconds.

and then five, and you whisper the rest of the numbers out loud, you breathe and breathe and there’s only one second left.

you don’t jump when the alarm goes off. you don’t move, you don’t breathe.

spencer is sitting up beside you, always meticulous and dependable.

you breathe in once and feel his hand on your shoulder, shaking you awake. you breathe once and turn to look up at him.

“good morning,” he whispers, notes of sleep around his eyes and a soft smile on his face.

you stare, watch, look. you stare for only one second, just to get a chance to look into his eyes, longing for something that’s not really there. and then as every other day this week—

you’re up and out of bed, away from his eyes, within five seconds. you’re in the other room in six.

when spencer looks at you later that day— at work, several hours after you stopped thinking —you don’t hesitate to smile.

it’s easy, actually, to act normal from across the room.

it’s easy to enjoy the smile you get in response. it’s easy to enjoy it just for a second.

you turn around though, forget the moment ever happened.

it’s exhausting to pretend this is normal, so terribly easy. it’s too much for the middle of the afternoon, for a boring day at work.

you tune those thoughts out and get back to the paperwork you’re supposed to be finishing. you haven’t noticed the looks your teammates have been giving you lately, so you don’t notice now.

really, it’s not that hard to pretend. not this time.

you didn’t mean to eavesdrop when you failed to knock on the door. you didn’t mean to pause, or to turn your head so that you could hear a little bit better.

you didn’t mean to listen, or to turn around a minute later, wet eyes and dry feelings.

it was all an accident.

to be there and to hear. to be taking a file to him at this very moment.

but you are, and you were, and you’re standing there, hanging onto his every word.

“it’s…” there was a murmur, something you couldn’t hear through the door. “suffocating…”

you shouldn’t have been standing there.

“i’m sure y/n isn’t…” the higher voice drifted off, and still, you weren’t supposed to be listening.

“no, no. it’s not them, it’s just-“

this time the voice stopped. you were leaning in closer, curiosity spiked, adrenaline flowing.

you should’ve just walked away.

“i just need some space,” there was something after that, a whisper, a name you knew, a word you could hear. but you were already walking away.

it wasn’t much. it wasn’t a long sentence. it wasn’t anything significant.

except, except. he had whispered your name, just after. he had said the words, the words— that would repeat themselves over and over for god knows how long after —and then he had whispered your name.

i just need some space. he said.

not to you, of course. it was an accident to hear them in the first place.

i just need some space.

you walked away, slouching, unaware of anything else. you tried not to listen, tried not to hear it. begged that pause to erase itself, and begged those words to disappear.

but they couldn’t, and they wouldn’t. and maybe, maybe it wasn’t an accident at all.

at home, you move rooms.

you’re learning, you know. learning how to separate yourself, how to keep your distance, how to be better.

how to. how to. how to.

you decided, moments after those words, seconds after that feeling crawled its way up your neck. you decided that you needed to learn how to give spencer space, how to be okay with some more distance.

and that everlasting question, what are you doing wrong?

, well you had to learn how to fix it.

but you’re still learning. and you still yearn to cuddle with him on the couch when he sits next to you. you still want to play with his hair when he’s sitting at his desk. you still want to drag him to get coffee at two in the morning, and laugh with him when he beats you at chess.

you want it all, but, you have to learn. and so, you learn, you navigate and you try to let it all go. smile at spencer, kiss him in the morning, hand him his file at work, and keep your distance.

it’s a perfectly balanced, perfectly organized routine, but he always tilts the scale when he comes to sit down next to you.

when he watches you in the kitchen, and when he comes into the bathroom with you to brush his teeth.

when it hurts, when it burns, when you ask again, what are you doing… but you still try to discreetly move out of the way. when you smile at him then change rooms and pretend this is all normal.

he walks into the room now, book(s) in hand, a happy smile on his face. he watches you and you pretend not to notice. then, he sits next to you, so close, and leans your way.

he smiles some more and whispers out a gentle “hey, love,” as he opens his book.

you acknowledge him with a short “hey,” so quiet that you’re not sure if he heard.

you breathe while he’s right next to you, try to keep your eyes off his hands and off his face and off of him.

and too many seconds later, you’re getting up. you’re swiftly walking away.

and you don’t turn back to look at him. you’re learning.

there was something to be said about the feel of his skin.

god, you’re not supposed to be doing this.

something there, addictive, exhilarating, an unstoppable tidal wave of emotion. something to be said about the feel of his skin against yours.

you’re supposed to be walking away right now.

something about his hands and his mouth and this kiss that he’s breathing into you.

what are you doing wrong?

you’re kissing him, you know, you’re kissing him because he grabbed onto your waist. you’re kissing him because once he was close enough, once you could practically taste him, you couldn’t bring yourself to stop.

you’re kissing him because you miss him and because he grabbed onto you while you were walking by because he grabbed on and he wouldn’t let you go and you missed him so much and—

what are you doing wrong?

you’re not supposed to be doing this.

it’s his voice, it’s his face, it’s his skin, it’s his lips, it’s his everything that finally gets you to break away from him with a gasp.

it’s his words, from before, that finally get you to move away, a few steps back, and catch your breath.

spencer is just staring at you, lips raw, eyes glistening.

he’s so beautiful and this is so terrible.

you smile, tight-lipped, trying not to say anything.

“what?” he asks, he’s smiling back, bigger than you. you’re both still panting.

you can hear those words again, louder, pounding in your ears almost as loud as your heart.

this was a mistake, you know.

“i’m tired,” is all you say. not really answering, not really listening.

but it could be true, it might be true. you’re right next to the bed and it’s so easy to slip in and pretend that whatever just happened didn’t happen.

it’s so easy to forget everything, all of it, to leave yourself standing there on the floor while you lay in bed.

it must be easy for spencer too, because, moments later you feel him move in beside you.

you both fall asleep, inches apart.

it's the words that keep you from crying out to him.

it’s the words that stop you from telling him.

it’s those words, so loud, that make sure to lock your secret up. to hide the pain away somewhere no one will ever find it.

except for maybe you, because really, how can you avoid it?

it’s those words, too many and too much, that keep you from talking to spencer. from asking him for help. from begging him for a hug, or a kiss, or even just a glance that lasts longer than five seconds.

you don’t want space, you want to scream at him. but you cant, you won’t, and spencer shouldn’t know. you shouldn’t blame him for the words.

but you hate them, you hate them so much that sometimes you feel as if your chest is going to explode. you think you’re going to collapse if you spend one more night years away from him. you think that you’re almost gone, that you won’t make it. you hate them.

you hate them for making you feel this helpless, for hiding you from spencer. you hate them.

(but maybe. maybe you don’t.

maybe you can’t because they came from him. because they’re a truth that you needed to hear. maybe you love them because they’re so obvious. After all, they’ll keep him here longer.

maybe you love them, secretly.)

it wouldn’t matter if the words weren’t there— pounding in your head, yelling in your ear —anyway, you think.

you and spencer don’t talk much, these days.

you aren’t expecting it, when it comes.

or maybe you are. you can't really remember, to be honest.

but you’ve noticed the looks, the frowns, the raised eyebrows. you noticed, you know. you just ignore it. just ignore it all.

so, when it comes, when he’s finally in front of you, finally there. you aren’t expecting it.

not the quip in his voice.

not the harsh way he asks you what’s going on.

not his never-ending stare.

“what?” you ask back, staring at the floor because there’s not much else to stare at.

“what's going on?” he asks again, softer this time. he's standing in front of you, blocking your way through the door.

you can feel the impatience rising up in your chest. you just want to go lay down, right now. you look up.

“can i pass, spence?”

he looks shocked at the words, and for a moment you wonder if it's because you didnt answer, or because you’ve just called him spence. by the look on his face, you guess it could be both.

you sigh and wait. you’ve been waiting all day.

you still didnt expect it though.

“what?”

“i want to go throu-”

“no, i heard you. i just...” he pauses, turns around and through the door, complying with you. you move past him.

this is cruel of you, some part of you knows, this is cruel. but you’ve learned, you’ve practiced for far too long to stop now.

you cant just stop because spencer asks a question. you cant stop. you wont make another mistake.

the bile rises in your throat. you push it down with a question, you turn it away, slam the door.

spencer is looking at you, watching you grab something out of a drawer. you can feel his eyes on your back.

“what is going on?” he asks again, anger and desperation mixing in his voice this time. you’re glad you cant see his eyes, you note. glad this isnt really happening.

you’ve been playing pretend for a while.

“nothing, spencer,” you say, you mutter, you sigh. you’re very tired, you realize.

“nothing?” he whispers and you turn around to face him. his soft eyes are pleading, now. his face is contorted, his worry is palpable in the air. you dont understand it.

you’ve been acting perfectly normal.

there's a longing in your mind that wishes for it to go away.

you nod at him.

spencer laughs then, a harsh sound in the quiet room. you dont think you understand anything. “nothing?” he repeats, a doubtful question this time. “you arent even looking at me,” he sighs and runs a hand through his hair and your eyes flick up. “you won't even look at me for more than two seconds at a time and theres nothing going on?”

you meet his eyes. dont flinch. this is normal. it's very easy.

“i’m looking at you now,” you offer, a brighter tone, shifting into a happier person in an instant.

spencers eyes are wide. “thats not-” he groans and moves away, turns toward the bed and paces. you can see his impatience with you, you can feel the tension in the air.

and despite everything, the voices, the words, the feeling in your stomach you’re trying to push down, you still have to help. somehow, you have to do more.

“whats wrong, spence? what can i do?” you’re asking, you’re pleading and spencer turns around so fast you have to take a step back.

“what can...” his voice is drifting off as he observes your face, your terribly blank face. hes walking closer, and you’re taking another step back.

its painful, to be standing this close to him. painful, to not scream at him, painful to keep it all hidden behind your perfectly placed mask. your face doesnt move though, despite the pain.

spencer tries again. takes a step forward. you take a step back.

his eyes are frightened, but you can barely tell.

“can i touch you?” he asks, soft, a voice you recognize but cant recall. his eyes are careful, his smile is practiced.

you breathe in and the first flash of emotion hits your eyes. you gulp. can he touch you? you wonder, can he?

“um,” you pause and nod at him, you pause and try to weigh the outcomes. you try not to freeze. “sure,”

your words are quiet but spencer is rushing towards you, hes taking your arm in his hand, and hes trying to meet your eyes but you’re looking at the floor again.

this is so strange. theres something about his skin.

“are you okay?” he asks, he wonders, he pleads with you again.

you laugh, trying to liven your voice, trying to push down that stupid-

you laugh. you nod. “i’m fine,” you say, but your voice is too loud, but you’ve spoken too fast and its coming out wrong.

spencer whispers your name. it takes all your effort not to look up at him. not to move closer, not to suffocate him with your hug, with your kiss. it takes so much effort to breathe out again.

he whispers your name. again.

you dont know if its him, or if its you, but suddenly your chin is up, your eyes are on his and you want to melt under his touch, you want to melt to the floor and disappear into the earth. you want so, so many things that you arent supposed to have.

“are you okay?” hes asking the same questions again and again, but this question is desperate, helpless. you can hear that. he doesnt understand, you know, and thats terrifying.

“why, spencer?” you ask, you demand from him in a soft voice.

you dont need to do this right now. you can just go to bed, you think. you want to move away, you’re sure, but thats such a lie.

he whispers your name again, takes another step toward you. its threatening in a way, terrifying in its advance.

“why?” you demand again. “why now?”

you’re fully in his arms now, his hold quick, strong, as your voice breaks, as your breathing halts. you’re whispering it over and over again, why why why, and spencer doesnt know what to do. he doesnt know whats going on.

so he asks, one more time.

“whats going on, love?”

that feeling is there now, you know, that feeling that is just pain, just longing, just nothing and everything and so much. unbearable, strong, malicious.

“i’m just trying to give you space,” you sob out, turning, wrapping yourself in him, breathing in the scent of his sweater. you’re crying, but you cant feel the tears. and you’re shaking, but you cant feel your limbs.

you think, briefly, that spencer must be holding you up but you dont know.

spencer, in reality, is frozen. hes repeating your words in his head. hes going over them like an equation, something he cant solve.

just the same as you.

the two of you, together, think over and over and over again. the words that have been stuck in your head for so long.

space. space. space.

its such an evil little word and its attacking you both. you hate it.

“you heard,” spencer whispers against your head, maybe in awe, maybe in shock. “you werent supposed to hear that,”

you laugh but it comes out as more of a sob.

spencer is apologizing, whispering to you, saying “shh, shh,” in your ear. hes trying to console you, but he barely even knows how you figured it out, why you havent spoken to him.

hes recalling everything thats happened, every kiss, every passing touch, every step you’ve taken away from him.

this is all so shocking.

you werent expecting any of this. you didnt expect this.

“it was an accident,” you say when you get a moment to breathe, when you gasp just enough to finally take in air. you’re not sure why you’re crying. maybe its spencers hands, or maybe its his voice, or maybe its just the pain in your stomach and in your chest and resting on your throat.

spencer, then, is grasping at your wrists which are clawing at his shirt, hes trying to breathe with you, trying to get you to look at him. hes trying so hard, but you cant tell.

it takes a minute, and then, his hands are just soft enough to make you focus, you make you look at him again. they’re enough to breathe.

“i’m so sorry,” he whispers, void of explanation, eyes pained looking at your face. you rub a rough palm over your cheek, wiping the tears away, trying to claw at something that isnt there. your skin feels raw, your chest feels split open.

you’re not sure how it happened.

“spencer,” is all you say.

“i- i dont-” he sighs and looks down, away from your eyes, sending pangs through your chest again.

theres something unspoken in the air, your heart beats louder, your chest feels tighter. you dont know what to say next.

spencer speaks for you. “i’m so sorry,” he repeats, hands grasping onto your face, holding your eyes on his.

the feeling is so unfamiliar, so strange after weeks of not touching him properly, weeks of getting by with nothing more than a sharp kiss. weeks of nothing, and more and more silence between the two of you. weeks of unbearable, undeniable, pain.

your mind is reeling in relief but your body doesnt trust him yet. you cant relax.

he feels the tension, he feels you pause every time he shifts. its doubt, you both know, unspoken in the air. trust, spencer knows now, is gone. trust, you realize then, has been broken.

trust, has never been your strong suit.

“i’m sorry,” its another whisper, another plea, another sentence full of nothing.

and you, you’re just sitting there. you’re just waiting, just listening to him, just trying to trust him with all the fervor you used to have.

“what happened?” you choked, voice sore.

spencer, took a deep breath. the contraction of his chest was clear against your body, your hand, still latched on to him.

and then,

“avoidant personality disorder affects around 2.5 percent of the population,” he pauses, looks at your face. “it- it affects both men and women equally, and usually, it um, it tends to start early on in childhood.”

you dont say anything, just watch his eyes, so strange now.

spencer laughs, but its sad. its lonely. “my mom, she never mentioned anything like it. i didnt even really know what it was until-” a breath. “until i- i started studying psychology and-”

he stops. looks away from you.

and you dont know where this is going, you dont understand yet. you’re not like him, you cant piece together a puzzle, solve an equation. you can only listen.

you’re not sure if you’re hearing clear enough.

spencer looks at you again, stares for a second. swallows. “even when i learned what it was i didnt believe that i might- that i would have it.”

he stops again.

you hear the words. you hear and still you ask,

“you think you have it?”

spencer, who is still looking at you, still holding you even though you’re not sure how he can stand it, laughs. he laughs and looks down and frowns then looks up. you cant tell what hes feeling.

“no, i’m saying i do.”

“oh.”

hes speaking some more, teaching you. “a lot of people dont realize that intamcy issues fluctate-- that one day someone can be completely okay and then the next they feel irritated and uncomfortable-”

and.

“social isolation is a common symptom of avoidant personality disorder-”

he tells you more. speaks so fast that its hard to keep up.

“it can span out from abandonment issues, or fear of rejection. kids with deep-rooted trauma are more likely to experience it-”

he tells you so many things, so many facts.

and then he stops.

spencer is holding your head in his hands again, grasping, pleading for something that you dont understand. hes making you look at him with suddenly desperate eyes. “i never meant to hurt you, though. i promise,”

you blink at him, then nod, eyebrows furrowed.

“i didnt you to hear that conversation with JJ- and i still wish you hadnt because i was so...i was..” he draws off, nervous, eyes looking back and forth.

your chest is burning, that pain is still there, still ringing. some voice in your head, spencers maybe, whispers the word again.

you flinch, almost away from spencer. scared. “you were what?”

“i was wrong,”

a moment pauses, spencer is staring, waiting for your reaction.

and then, after a breath, you laugh. manically. too loud.

spencer is confused, hes concerned.

you keep laughing, leaning back to cluch at your waist, leaning away from him and laughing. you dont know why this is funny, you’re not sure, but it is.

“you’re-” you start, giggling some more. “you’re a genius-” you’re running out of breath, and the tears are falling out of your eyes again, and spencer is still just staring. “you were wrong!” you exclaim, almost mockingly, almost seriously.

spencer though, still isnt laughing.

he waits, waits for you to calm down, to look at him again, and then he moves away from you, taking a step back.

you frown, but his hands are finding yours. his hands are grasping yours with a grip you dont expect. you hold your breath while he stares again.

“i was wrong,” he repeats, earnestly, urgently. “i didnt realize it until a couple of nights ago, when you moved away after we kissed. when you-”

you try to interrupt, to explain but he continues, breathless.

“when you looked at me like you were terrified, like you were making a mistake. you just stared at me for three seconds, and then you left. you didnt explain, didnt speak.”

“spencer, i-” you start.

spencer is leaning over to kiss your forehead, to hold you softly in a hug you’ve been waiting weeks for.

its so strange, to stand here like this.

“i realized you were avoiding me then.” spencer says, whispers. “i missed you so much and i didnt even realize it,”

you breathe in. shocked.

“i’m sorry,”

“no,”

“yes, love, i never wanted you to feel like that. to hurt you like i did, like i am.” spencer looks ashamed but you press on, scowl on your face.

“no, no, no.” you move back, stare at him with hard eyes with a soft face. “i needed to know, spencer. if you need something, even distance from me, than i needed to know.”

you know thats why you listened, you know that your pause had a reason. it was never an accident to know the truth-- to give spencer what he needed.

it was easy, when you thought thats what he wanted.

“i was wrong, though-”

“i needed to know.”

spencer stares at you, for the millionth time. he looks at your unwavering eyes, your stern faces. he sees it, the fear, the worry that he’ll move back, or leave, or run away from you. he can see it.

but you, you’re just standing there. you, you changed everything just so he would be happy.

he sees the sacrifice now, curses himself for it.

but all he says is “okay,” and then, taking a step forward, he repeats it. “okay.”

“okay?” you ask, voice small.

“yes, okay. i will tell you. i’ll tell you everything,” he promises, intense eyes, and stronghold on you.

he pulls you in again.

its enough. its enough to fade that pain down into a simmer, to turn trust inside out again, to straighten the pins you’ve put up on the wall.

the words are there still, but they’re distant, like the chime of an old clock, but quiet. broken.

its so overwhelming, to be in his arms again.

but you fall, even still, you hold him back even tighter than before, you trust that hes going to stay there.

and the ten seconds start again.

you’re scared, still, with nine seconds. scared that this isnt going to last, that hes going to change his mind, that hes going to realize hes right.

you’re breathing, at eight seconds, thinking about these weeks without him, about this comfort in his eyes, in his arms. you’re thinking about how hes here right now, about how thats the only thing that matters.

you’re smiling at seven seconds, tick-tock, as you breathe him in, as you taste the air and realize that theres always been something about his touch.

at six seconds, hes whispering in your ear, a quiet “i love you” a meaningful promise that you’ve missed dearly.

at five, you’re whispering back, you’re promising, you’re breathing, you’re trying not to think, trying not to worry.

at four, you’re kissing his lips, you’re molding yourself to him once again.

at three, hes gripping your waist, kissing you like he never has before.

at two, you’re whispering “stay” against his lips, tasting him, pulling him, begging him. you’re not afraid to speak this time, and you dont need to pull back.

and then and then and then, you’re holding each other and theres only one second left, theres just one tiny little moment left.

and it’ll last a lifetime.

my masterlist here.

#spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid #Spencer Reid fic #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fan #spencer reid fandom #spencer reid fluff #Criminal Minds #Criminal Minds Fanfiction #Criminal Minds Reid #criminal minds smut #spencer reid smut #spencer reid series

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aackxrmxn · 3 years ago

Text

CHAPTER TWO: Healing Nicely - You're Ours Mesh'la (NSFW) Bad Batch Series

Warnings: Established poly relationship, unprotected sex, slight choking kink, oversensitivity, slight hair pulling kink, Crosshair being mean ASF at the end :(, swearing, being called inappropriate names.

Plot: With your foot healing nicely, and time off from your duties, Tech and Hunter patiently wait for their promised time to spend with you.

Word Count: 3.7K+

Pronouns of Reader: She/Her

Gender of Reader: Female

Pairing: Hunter x Reader, Tech x Reader, Crosshair x Reader, Echo x Reader, Wrecker x Reader.

Author's Note: I'm back and better than ever! Welcome to the Tech and Hunter chapter! This chapter is probably poorly written (as I may have written this too late at night), but I still hope you enjoy the content! Once again, don't forget to like it and reblog as they help immensely! If I have forgotten any triggers/warnings, please let me know and I will add them. Strikethroughs mean the chapter is still being worked on, so keep in tune for when it is released! Happy reading!

THIS SERIES: << Chapter One: The Incident || Chapter Three: Waiting Patiently >> OTHER: << Masterlist || Wattpad || Tiktok >>

Taglist: @lackofhonor, @spp2011, @cynderquest (fill this form out to be added to taglist! Strikethroughs mean I couldn't tag you for whatever reason).

-.-.-

You woke to a sudden jolt, the ground shaking slightly. That's when you heard the annoyed voice of Crosshair, "Wrecker, will you quit it? Some of us aren't as cheery as you in the mornings." He grumbled and you rolled in your bed, the covers twisting around you as you opened your eyes.

You saw Crosshair sitting at the seats in the middle of the room, eyebrows furrowed together as he sipped the hot coffee in his mug. He was wearing just his blacks, but without a shirt and you bit your lip.

"See something you like, princess?" He asked suddenly and you giggled as you closed your eyes and rolled to your back before throwing the blankets off you and stood up. Tech and Echo were still asleep, snoring lightly beside you, Hunter was probably in the refresher as you saw the door closed and the dull red light showing the words of 'occupied'.

Slowly walking over to Crosshair, you took a seat next to him. He didn't turn to face you, but you saw the subtle hint of a smirk on his face. "Good morning, love." You whispered in his ear and kissed his cheek. He closed his eyes at the contact.

"AW, what about me?!" Wrecker basically yelled, scarring Echo awake and Tech groaned and rolled to face the wall, slamming his pillow over his ears.

"Sh," both you and Crosshair hissed and Wrecker shyly apologised. "Come 'ere, big boy." You opened your arms and Wrecker took to opportunity to pick you up and spin you around playfully.

You kissed his chin as he set you down and felt another pair of hands on your hips then. You turned and gawked at the sight of wet-haired Hunter with no bandana on. "There any hugs left for me?" He asked and you happily leant into his arms and snuggled into him as his arms wrapped around you tightly.

"Good morning, Hunter." You whispered, knowing his was particularly sensitive to sound in the mornings; Wrecker probably not helping with his oversensitivity.

"Morning, cupcake." The nickname made you smile with a curiosity, cupcake... You had never been called that before. You heard Crosshair sniggered before getting up from the seat and making his way to the kitchen.

You pulled away to inspect Crosshair getting another cup of caff, yeah, he was the coffee addict in the Batch. "Never been called that before." You said with a giggle as you looked up at the tattooed man.

"Get used to it." He whispered, he then leant down to your ear, "unless you want to be called something a little more... degrading." You practically moaned at how deep and husky his voice was against your ear.

He leant back up then with a smirk and you squirmed in his arms still wrapped around you. "I wouldn't be opposed to the name, Sarge." His smirk widened, a darkness covering his eyes and you wriggled out of his grasp and walked over to the kitchen with Crosshair.

You placed a hand on his back and hugged him from behind as you saw he was turning on the stove to make eggs. He stiffened under your touch and pulled away quickly. You frowned, watching as he went to get the other ingredients.

"Don't take it too personally, Crosshair isn't much of a cuddlier." Tech then said beside you and you jumped a little, not realising his was there. You calmed down then and leant into his side. "I see your leg looks a little better. Angling your foot definitely had sped up the healing process."

You looked down at your leg as well, "y- yeah, it doesn't hurt too bad today." You said and smiled up at the genius of a man. "What do you have planned for today?" You asked then as he helped you to the chair where you sighed into as Tech turned on the warmer.

"Nothing really, maybe fixing up some of my incomplete projects. Crosshair, Echo and Wrecker were going see some of the markets that the Kaminoans had put together." Tech explained, kneeling down to inspect your swollen ankle and you winced as he unwrapped it.

"That's today?" You asked. "So this would be our first year anniversary of meeting each other?"

Every rotation, the Kaminoans put up some stalls in the cafeteria for the clones. It was basically the clones day off from duties and they could have fun with some of the games that were there. You remembered last rotation you had taken Jesse and Fives there and played 'tag and go'. Let's just say, some of the Kaminoans didn't like you breaking the chairs and tables as you leaped over them and hid. That was the same day you ran into Echo by accident, him splattering apologies left and right as he spilt his red, frozen drink all over you. You had laughed it off and he soon joined in too, and the other Batch members stood by him. It was a good day, and a day you wouldn't forget.

"Technically, yes." He said as he rotated your ankle slowly and softly. "I will give you some time with the compression wrap off to give your foot some air to breath." Tech stood then and went over and grabbed you a large cup of coffee. You felt the chair beside you dip then and turned to the other side to see Echo looking at you with adoration in his beautiful honey eyes.

"Good morning," he greeted and leant in slowly to press a kiss to your temple, hesitant like you were going to push him away. "Are you going to come and join us?" He then looked at your foot, realisation covering his face and he apologised.

"Echo, baby, don't apologise. You apologise too much," You giggled as you placed a hand on his stomach gently and leaned towards him to kiss his lips. He basically whimpered into your mouth and melted against you. "But no, I think I might chill out here today if you don't mind."

"Of course not, ma'am." He said and you giggled at the name. First cupcake, and now ma'am? It warmed your heart.

You leant into his ear then, "you know where you could call me that?" Echo's cheeks heated up drastically and he stuttered as he was about to speak, but Wrecker's hands came down on the back of the chair, almost tipping it with you and Echo seated on it.

"You ready, Echo?" He asked loudly, and Echo cleared his throat before nodding, giving you one glance back at you before getting up.

"The only reason why I'm going is because Kix said there was sniper gear there." Crosshair said, his usual scowl on his face. "Don't you dare bring me into any of your games." He warned Wrecker, pointing an accusing finger at him.

They left then and Tech handed you the caff he made before going over to his bunk and began fiddling with some wires and a piece of metal. "You're not going?" You asked Hunter as he sat beside you.

"No, I don't think I could handle it this rotation. It's too loud there, I barely survived last rotation." He explained and threw an arm over your shoulders and bought you closer to him. There was a silence then, just the quiet hum of Tech's gear as he continued to work on something. "So, we calling you mesh'la now?"

You laughed then, Tech looking over at you with a small smile. "Looks like it." You said and closed your eyes as you sipped the hot coffee, a small moan leaving your lips as the incredible taste. "Plus, I thought you wanted to call me cupcake, now?" You shot back and watched as Hunter's eyes made their way to your lips.

"Depends," he started, "cupcake is for the sweet and innocent you, mesh'la when you're being good, and well... something else if you've been bad."

"What if I'm extra bad?" You whispered then, watching how he licked his lips and his eyes roamed your face. "Would I be your dirty little slut?" You taunted.

You gasped as Hunter suddenly laid you back on the couch and giggled as his eyes dilated. "You better watch your mouth, mesh'la."

"I thought I was being called that when I was good." You commented, wrapping your arms around his neck and bringing him closer to you. "Why not call me your dirty little slut?" You asked huskily as Hunter groaned in your ear and nipped lightly at the sensitive skin under it. You fluttered your ears closed at the sensation.

"What? You wanna be a dirty little slut for us?" You moaned as he spoke against your neck and licked up it, leaving a hot trail in his wake. "Wanna be a good girl for us, or be a dirty little whore?"

You opened your eyes and made eye contact with Tech and smirked. "Depends if Tech will eat me out this time." You felt the wetness pool between your legs, hot and heavy breaths coming from your mouth as Hunter went lower, his damp hair on your skin setting fire in your belly.

He tugged your shirt off then, revealing the smooth skin of your stomach. "Maker," Hunter sighed, hands sprawling out on your stomach. "You're so beautiful." You blushed at his comment and felt Tech lift your head so he could situate himself there, your head in his lap.

Hunter ventured further, hands now kneeding the tops of your thighs and your wriggled impatiently before he took your sleep shorts off, careful of your injured foot. "Hunter," You slurred, you panted as you felt his fingers rub you over your underwear.

"Be patient, mesh'la." Tech mumbled, eyes transfixed on your squirming form beneath him. You tried to stop moving, grabbing onto Tech's pyjama pants as you felt your underwear being slowly pulled down from you.

"Maker," Hunter breathed again at seeing your already soaked core in front of him. "Every part of you is truly gorgeous, cupcake." He practically groaned as he began to kiss your inner thighs.

A shaky breath came from your throat at the contact, "please Hunter, don't tease." You begged, hands moving to cup his cheek. He looked up you with a glint in his eyes before slowly leaning in to lick up your pussy, never breaking eye contact.

The air left your lungs, feeling the sensation of Hunter's tongue on your lower lips and threw your head back against Tech's body. "Fuuuck, that's so good." You moaned as he circled the tip of his tongue around your clit. You whined as Tech's hand came down to kneed the soft plushiness of your breasts.

"Kriff, she's definitely not going to last." Tech pointed out as he noted how your body jolted when Hunter firmly sucked your clit into his mouth.

Hunter pulled back then, "I'd rather her cum on something else." He said darkly and stripped from his clean blacks he put on not long ago. "Is that okay with you, cupcake?" He asked as you saw his semi-hard cock being freed from his pants. You bit your lip and nodded at him, never taking your eyes off as he began to stroke his cock. He gently grabbed your jaw then, lifting your head to peer into his chocolate brown eyes. "I need you to say it, cupcake."

"Yes please, Hunter." You whimpered into his hand, spreading your legs wider for him to rest into.

"That's a good girl, mesh'la." Tech said huskily above you and you saw the dark glint in his eyes as well.

Hunter ran the tip of his cock through your folds and moaned quietly. "Want to let you know," he began, eyes fluttering closed, "that my enhanced abilities may not make me last too long."

You smiled up at him, cupping his face and bringing him down for a sloppy kiss. "That's okay, just do however much you're comfortable with." You said and he smiled back at you before completely sinking into you.

A hoarse moan made it past your lips, echoing in the room. Hunter grunted, resting his head into your neck before he began to move. "Oh, kriff-!" He moaned, feeling how you gripped around his cock snuggly.

Tech groaned as you peered up at him, hand reaching out to move a piece of stray hair from your face. Hunter leant up then so he was on his knees and began to thrust into you faster, causing you to moan louder.

"That's it, moan louder for us." Hunter gasped, face already flushed. His hands gripped the tops of your thighs again and pulled you down further on his cock, reaching deep within you; just as Crosshair had done the day before.

Tech leant over you then, fingers nimbly coming in contact with your clit and rubbed small and firm circles on it, causing a throaty groan to come out both yours and Hunter's mouth.

Hunter's hips snapped harder up into you and you heard the squelching sounds of your wetness coating his cock and whimpered quietly. Hunter began babbling incoherent sentences, thrusts becoming sloppy, "Cyare, not gonna-"

You moaned at the name, it somehow rolling off his tongue beautifully, even if you didn't know what it meant. "Please cum Hunter, cum inside me and fill me up!"

Hunter's hips stuttered then, a particularly loud moan coming from his mouth, deep and rich. "Karking- Y/N!" He spilled inside you, stopping his movements and letting his hot seed coat the inside of your walls. You moaned at the feeling of being used in this way.

Hunter shuddered as he slumped against you, heavy breaths leaving his lips. You stroked his hair, fingers massaging his scalp and he continued shuddering above you. "You okay, Hunter?" You whispered in his ear and he turned his head to the side to see you, an exhausted smile creeping up on his face.

"Y- Yeah, though I can't say the same about Tech." He said with a raspy voice and you almost forget that Tech was here, and looked up at him.

"If you don't mind, I would like my turn now." He said, voice probably just as shaky as Hunter's and you saw him palming himself through his pants, an obvious tent showing. Hunter slowly got off you, softened cock slipping out of you which caused you to whine, you hadn't yet cummed.

You nodded and Hunter moved off towards the bathroom, probably wanting to clean himself off. Tech moved so he was where Hunter was and took his pants off, throwing them absently on the floor.

"Baby," You whined, "get yourself some relief." You said and moaned as he ran his cock up and down your pussy so he was lubricated; not that you needed it. "Fuck..." You moaned as he slipped inside you then, your warmth completely enveloping him and he grunted as he pushed himself further inside you.

He leant down then, his face inches above yours and you resting your forehead against his. ""Can I move?" He asked then and you nodded desperately. He started with a softer pace, moaning as he pushed back inside of you.

You felt a hand on your head then and looked up at Hunter who gave you a warm smile before he disappeared again. Tech hit a soft spot inside you, and it snapped you back to reality and moaned loudly.

To quieten you, Tech kissed you, full of passion and hunger and his hips sped up more. You moaned again, into his mouth, before his tongue slipped past your lips and into your own.

Your hands reached up, wrapping around his neck and tugged at the strands of his hair there, causing an audible gasp to leave your lips. "Tech," You whimpered as he angled his hips higher, hitting an extra soft spot inside of you. You shook, feeling the heat of an orgasm bubbling to the surface, "Tech..." You warned then, nails digging into the back of his neck.

"That's right, mesh'la, I want you to cum around me. I want to feel you gush around my cock as I spill inside you." Tech spoke dirtily, and you gasped as he dived for your neck.

"Fuck, fuck, fuuuck." You chanted, legs tightening around his hips as you almost were tipped over the edge, all you needed was that extra push. "Tech, baby, please..." You were whining for more, anything more.

Tech sat up then, but never faltering his movements. His hand came around your throat then, squeezing it, but not as hard as what Crosshair had done. His other hand came down to rub your clit in furious circles and that's when you came. You shouted his name, the hand only wrapping around you tighter as a response and your whole body shook violently.

You heard Tech groan then, hips stuttering as Hunter's had done as he spilled himself inside of you. He grunted your name, releasing your neck to grab onto the chair to steady himself.

"Well, that was something." You heard the husky voice of Hunter then and finally opened your eyes to meet his chocolate brown ones above you.

"That was good." You huffed, still out of breath and felt Tech pull out. He and Hunter helped you sit up then before Hunter grabbed a cloth and began to wipe you down, eyes lingering on your cum-soaked cunt.

You took a breath, leaning into Hunter's side as you closed your eyes. "You want me to help you with a shower?" Tech asked and you opened your eyes to see the pilot with a warm smile on his face.

You giggled and nodded and he helped you towards the refresher. "I'll let you know if I need help." You told him, leaning up to kiss his cheek and you smiled again. He closed the door behind you and you looked at yourself in the reflection, eyes scanning over the love marks Tech had made there, and you giggled as you turned on the shower.

The hot water cascaded down your back and you moaned, delighted by the hot water relaxing your sore and used muscles. You heard the front door whoosh open then and Wrecker laughed loudly. You shook your head and laughed as you grabbed out your shampoo and began to wash your hair.

"You should have seen the food that was there!" He yelled, probably stuffing his face with whatever was there. "I saved mesh'la some! Where is she?"

"She's in the refresher, now be quiet." Hunter said, as you heard boots walking away from you. "Hey, don't go eating all of it! You said you were leaving some for Y/N."

"Oh, right... I forgot." Wrecker said, and you could already see his face drop.

"There wasn't any rifle gear there," Crosshair sniggered, "and I see you were busy."

"AW, did I miss out on that?" Wrecker asked, sounding upset.

Tech interrupted and cleared his throat. "It was a fair ordeal, we hadn't yet been with Y/N. Wrecker, don't be selfish."

"Real fun, you even spilt the coffee on the chair we just got." Echo noted and you felt a tinge of sadness creep within you and you quickly finished washing your hair and body.

You wrapped a towel around your head and body and stepped out of the refresher, everyone's eyes turning to you. Wrecker gawking at you the most. "I didn't mean to spill the coffee, I'm sorry."

"Hey, it's alright. Nothing Tech or myself can't clean up." Hunter said, stepping towards you and cupping your face between his palms. "Plus, it was our fault that it spilt, not yours." You smiled as he squished your cheeks playfully and leaned in to hug him.

"How touching..." Crosshair muttered, pulling out a new toothpick after throwing the other on the floor. "Well, remind me next rotation to not go to the markets if it means I can fuck Y/N."

"She's not a plaything," Echo said then and Crosshair scoffed.

"Yeah, and that's not what you thought when she willingly opened her legs for us?" He retorted and you shrunk back at what he said, hiding behind Hunter's body.

"Hey, don't say that about Y/N! She's gorgeous and stunning, and you should learn to respect her!" Wrecker shouted, shoving his brother.

Crosshair shoved him back, "Respect a whore that opens her legs for anyone? I think not." You wanted to cry, feeling hot tears make their way to the surface. "Plus, she's not even that good at anything, so why keep her around? Throw her out for the next man to fuck her."

Hunter spun then, punching Crosshair right in the face and making him stumble back at the suddenness of the impact. "Quit talking like that about her!" He shouted, never had you heard him raise his voice this much.

You stepped back, your back coming in contact with the door of the refresher. By now, tears had soaked your cheeks and your whimpered, catching Echo's attention.

"Hey, it's okay. Come here." He said softly and took a step forwards as Crosshair threw Hunter off him. You shook your head and quickly opened the door before slamming it shut behind you and locking it.

A shaky breath caught your lips as you slid down the door and onto the floor. "What the hell is wrong with you?" Hunter asked as more tears slipped from your eyes.

"Y/N?" Tech suddenly asked at the door.

"G- Go away." You whispered, sniffing.

"I have clothes for you." You took the clothes from Tech then, quickly opening the door before slamming it back shut again. You got dressed in the plain white shirt and black leggings he handed you and saw your teary reflection in the mirror.

You took a deep breath then, opening the door and saw Hunter still standing over Crosshair. Their eyes turned on you, and you tried your best not to slam the door again.

You limped your way over to the front door. "Where are you going?" Echo asked and you turned to face him.

"Away." You spat, "Don't follow me. And you," You pointed at Crosshair, "Don't you dare talk to me ever again!" And with that, you slammed the door in front of them all.

354 notes · View notes

littlemisslipbalm · 4 years ago

Text

“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

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