#still better than mr Gucci's suit | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

moonchildstyles · 3 years ago

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y/n is a makeup artist and she doesn't think she's ever had a better halloween

wordcount: 26.5k+

—————

Harry Lambert wants to message you!

The notification pinged at the top of (Y/N)'s phone, the familiar Instagram icon shining in a rainbow gradient. It wasn't too odd that someone was requesting to DM her professional page, but it was the name that caught her eye. She knew she recognized it, whether it be through the chatter in the beauty world or simply someone she used to know, she couldn't put her finger on it. That's what made her open this request amid the couple of dozen from strangers that still went unanswered.

Hello! I'm a personal stylist and I have a client with a couple of important events scheduled on October 30th and 31st and we were looking for a makeup artist for the looks we had planned. I came across your work and from what I've seen, I think you'd be perfect for what we're looking for! If you're interested, let me know and we can talk about details!

If not for the familiar name (and shining blue checkmark), (Y/N) would have written off the message completely. The lack of details made her suspicious, but it was easy enough to swipe to his profile and snoop on the legitimacy of his claim. A quick scroll of his feed showcased editorial-like photographs, some in subdued filters while others were vivid and surreal, but each one showcased bold makeup looks accompanying Gucci-esque, avant-garde style choices made by the man himself. While the pictures were beautiful, she didn't spot anything recognizable that would explain why she knew his name.

Until she found a photo of Harry Styles draped in a Gucci suit at the Brits.

That's how she knew him.

Scrolling further, she found the now iconic leather suit Harry Styles wore to the Grammy's, green feather boa and all posted to the feed. Now that she knew what to look for, the further and further down she looked at Harry Lambert's posts, more and more of Mr. Styles could be found on his page. It all made sense now, how she had heard this name before.

His name had been printed in Vogue, GQ, Cosmo, Allure literally anywhere that paid any attention to fashion and how Harry Styles was setting trends and shifting the view of what clothing represented in terms of individuality and self-expression. Each one mentioned Harry Lambert, the same person that was in her DM's currently, and his eccentric styling choices.

And he wanted her to be a part of 'upcoming events' for a client of his.

Swiping away from the profile, (Y/N) opened up the awaiting message. Underneath Mr. Lambert's username, a small green dot resided, indicating he was online.

Thank you so much for reaching out! I'm definitely interested!! What type of event is this for?

—————

It was raining when (Y/N) stepped out of LaGuardia airport, the holding area for waiting Ubers crowded with both tourists and true New Yorkers ready to hit the road. The difference was easy to spot in the way she and her assistant, Vera, fit in much better with the brightly dressed tourists that held wonder in their eyes over what the city less than ten miles away held, while the people returning home looked ready to scream if one more tourist said anything about the Statue of Liberty.

New York was a definite change to the L.A. area that typically drove (Y/N)'s portfolio.

Nonetheless, she couldn't be more excited to be here. After getting more details from Mr. Lambert about what kind of event he was wanting her assistance on, she had an out of body experience when he revealed it was for a pair of Harry Styles concerts scheduled for the Halloween weekend, affectionately dubbed 'Harryween'. But, (Y/N) remained as professional as she could while asking for more information and eventually passing along her professional number so they could speak over the phone.

Since the event was so far out at the time, there were only so many details to be shared concerning what kind of costumes Mr. Styles was going to wear along with the preferred makeup that he wanted to go along with the looks. It was then she learned that not only was she being called in to serve Mr. Styles, but the rest of his band of six other musicians, making it a two person job with Vera needing to tag along. Most of the remaining information given was time and place with a few mockups of what the costumes were to look like when they were finally finished (the Dorothy plan was her personal favorite). But that had been months ago, just before Harry Styles embarked on his Love On Tour run around America.

Today, Mr. Styles and his team were to be in New York for a few days, readying for a pair of shows at Madison Square Garden before going on the road again (only to return a week later for another show at the same venue, then return again at the end of the month for Harryween). When corresponding with Mr. Lambert, they decided this would be a good time for her to come out, meet with them, and get an idea of what she was getting herself into. The costumes had been finalized only days prior to their scheduled meeting, the garments being shipped out from Alessandro Michele himself, Gucci labels stitched inside every custom piece, making it much easier to get a clear idea of how Mr. Styles wanted his face painted.

She had been floored when they offered to fly her out—not only once, but twice for both the meeting and the shows themselves!—and put her up in a hotel for the time being, especially when she mentioned she would be needing another person's help, but it was as if the extra cost didn't even register. Mr. Lambert had only sent back a 'Perfect!!' accompanied by a grinning emoji, the idea of another body being added to the mix never swaying him.

That was how she found herself with shaky hands wrapped around the handle of her suitcase, with native Californian Vera beside her shivering from the chilled drizzle raining from the sky.

"This is why I never wanted to come to New York—even for fashion week," Vera chattered next to her, huddled close as if layers of clothing she put between herself and the forty degree weather weren't enough.

"You'll be fine," (Y/N) laughed, stepping out of the way as a man who looked too preoccupied with the phone in his hand to be courteous of those around him raced towards his waiting Uber, "We'll be inside most of the time anyway, then we'll be home again by Friday, where it'll be seventy-five degrees and sunny for you."

Vera grumbled something about it not being soon enough under her breath, something (Y/N) ignored in favor of checking on her phone for the status of her ride. After finding they still had another five minutes of waiting (and Vera's complaining) before their driver would be here, another text from Mr. Lambert came through.

I hope you had a good flight and welcome to love on tour! Let me know when you and Vera are settled and Harry and I will come by and meet you both! x

The fact he welcomed her as if she were a real part of this production drew a glowing smile on (Y/N)'s features. Since being asked to be apart of the project, (Y/N) went out of her way to learn more about what she was now playing a small role in. She kept up with each show, noting the evolving uniform Mr. Styles wore on stage and the absolute showmanship that went into every, single concert. It was an honor to be a part of something that was so clearly impactful for everyone involved, especially Mr. Styles himself and the thousands of adoring fans that flooded the venues every night.

Sending him back a quick message, (Y/N) suddenly felt light on her feet again as if the six hour flight didn't happen and she wasn't completely thrown off by the new timezone they entered. She was about to meet two of her newest idols and officially join a production that had wiggled its way into her heart the more she learned about it. There was no room for low energy when her brain was already racing with what kind of looks she was going to have the privilege of painting onto Mr. Styles' face.

"I think that's us," (Y/N) peeped through her smile, spotting what looked like it could be the 2009 Nissan Altima that was tasked with picking them up (she had to Google what those even looked like when she received what make and model to be looking out for).

Vera jumped at the opportunity to sit in a warm car as if she'd been in the rain for longer than the seven minutes they spent on the corner. She all but dragged (Y/N) to the car, popping her head through the rolled down window and double checking their driver's name before stashing their luggage in the trunk.

"Finally," she sighed, sinking into the faux leather seat, warm air pulsing right in her face.

"Are you not even a little excited to be here?" (Y/N) questioned, tone light and teasing despite the fact she was now getting a little worried Vera wasn't as happy as she was.

"You know I am," she said, rolling her head on the rest behind it, "this is an insane opportunity, and we get to work with Harry fucking Styles. Of course, I'm excited, I just don't like the cold and I'm always heavily reminded of that the second I step out of California."

"Well, just pretend like you don't know its cold out when you meet them. I don't want either of them to think we don't want to be here," (Y/N) directed, grabbing for her phone to double check the room reservation for their hotel.

Vera agreed with a sigh, keening like a cat under the warm air blowing through the cab, leaving (Y/N) to look out in wonder at the slowly approaching city.

—————

"Is that them right there?"

(Y/N)'s followed the discreet point of Vera's finger, finding a pair of men huddled in a corner of the hotel lobby. One was clearly Mr. Lambert with his head of bleach blonde cropped hair, beaded necklaces around his neck and nails a brightly colored pink as he gesticulated around his words. The other was much more quietly dressed, only a pair of black athletic shorts (in this kind of weather, she had to assume there was something a little insane about that choice) and a heavy, baggy hoodie with the word Pleasing scrawled over it in white ink. A faded blue hat concealed what she was sure was a wave of iconic brown curls underneath, the blue of the cap matching the checkerboard pattern on his dirty Vans.

That was Harry Styles.

A folder full of blank face charts as well as a few marked with her ideas began to shake against her chest, her hands a little unsteady now that he was right in front of her. For the brief moment she had left before Vera would undoubtedly tug her towards them, (Y/N) allowed herself to feel all the nerves and anticipation she wanted now that she was going to meet someone she had become enamored with in the last months. She'd never met anyone as important as him—as widely known and loved as Harry Styles himself—while working in California, despite the promises that had been made that L.A. was the land of stars that were just aching for a so-called 'glam squad'. And, she definitely never met anyone who just seeing photos of made her heart bubble.

But, once those seconds passed, that reprieve she was offered just before Vera's grip tightened on her elbow, she reminded herself that this was her client.

Until the moment the curtains dropped on October thirty-first, and his show was over, he was going to be her client. He wasn't going to be Harry Styles, the man who's Instagram she shamelessly stalked since the day she was offered the job, the man who's tour she was more than up to date with, and who's discography was no doubt going to be in the top slots of her year end streaming stats. He was going to be Mr. Styles, a kind and well-paying client who wanted the best of her services for two very important events in his career.

Though the smallest part of her brain continued to rattle as she heard Vera whisper I think it is before resolutely tugging (Y/N) to the concealed corner of their hotel lobby, she took in a deep breath and boxed away all of her nerves and excitement as best she could. That box was then shoved to the furthest corner of her mind, only to be unpacked when she was safely by herself and could properly freak out.

Mr. Lambert noticed them first, falling silent as he whipped his head in their direction. A bright smile and a wave greeted them, clearly recognizing (Y/N). Mr. Styles was quick to find who his colleague was distracted by, his own tanned face breaking into a soft-lipped smile, dimples in his cheeks, once she caught sight of the two girls approaching.

"(Y/N), love," Mr. Lambert beamed when they drew close enough, reaching out towards her as if they were old friends, "How was the flight?"

Vera's hand on her arm slipped away as Mr. Lambert drew (Y/N) in for a friendly hug, careful of the folder tucked into her chest. Some of the tension glittering in her spine dwindled at the warm welcome, a quick reminder that as much as she admired them, in that moment, she was a colleague to them.

"It was really good—long, but we made it," she smiled, drawing away to allow him to see the matching smile on her face, "Thank you for asking, Mr. Lambert."

His features pinched at her words, brows drawing together in displeasure, "Don't have to call me that—I'd prefer if you didn't actually. Making me sound old. Harry is just fine, darling."

She resisted the urge to apologize, reminding herself she was a colleague and not someone she trying to impress into being her friend. Instead, she nodded her head and said, "Okay, Harry."

At the sound of her words, the man beside them perked up. "Hm?" he hummed, responding to the call of his name.

"She was talking to me, Sue—not everything's about you, you know," Harry (Lambert, that is. She realized this was going to be hard to keep straight) teased, eyes narrowed towards Harry (Styles).

"You're so mean to me," he grumbled in response, a sly smile coloring his features as he bumped Harry L. with his shoulder. Directing his attention to (Y/N), Mr. Styles stuck his hand out for her to shake, "(Y/N), right?"

"That's me," she beamed, resisting the urge to rock on the balls of her feet like a schoolgirl in puppy love, "It's nice to finally meet you, Mr. Styles."

All the stories about him and the relentless eye contact he favored, (Y/N) found to be true in that moment. None of the photographs or videos did the color of his eyes justice, the green of his iris floating like a lilypad in his sclera. It was grounding, anchoring her to the moment, at the same time his attention took her somewhere else entirely.

"Th-This," she stuttered, gesturing to her left where Vera was patiently waiting, though (Y/N) was sure there were thousands of teasing remarks in her head waiting to bubble up the second they were alone, "is Vera. She's going to be helping out with the rest of the band and everything else for the shows."

Mr. Styles was the first to greet her with a warm smile on his face, reaching a tan hand out to shake. (Y/N) listened to his muttered greeting, the words a quiet rumble in their concealed corner before Mr. Lambert offered a brief hug as a welcome gesture. She took a step back as Vera bubbled her thanks for the opportunities and excitement for being here, completely disregarding the sour mood she had landed in New York with.

"There's a little cafe here at the hotel," Mr. Lambert said, addressing the group of them, "and I was thinking we could sit down and discuss ideas there. H has to get to soundcheck in a couple of hours, but I think that should be enough time to get some plans made, right?"

Mr. Styles—H—nodded his head, his eyes flitting over to (Y/N), "Need to be out of here by two-thirty at the latest, I think. Is that enough time for you?"

(Y/N) perked up at his attention, clutching her face charts tighter to her chest, "Yeah, that's fine! I brought a couple of ideas already, so we'll have somewhere to start, hopefully."

Mr. Lambert chattered off a perky Perfect! before peering down the lobby, searching for the directions for the so-called cafe. He herded them in the right direction, Mr. Styles falling in step beside his stylist, asking him something about the final touches on the night's outfit. Vera was quick to grab for (Y/N)'s elbow, her eyes wide with a sly smile curling on her lips.

"What was that back there?" she whispered, grip pulsing on (Y/N)'s arm as if that would extract more information from her, "I've never seen you get all stuttery like that around clients."

"I was just—I mean... He was—"

"Oh my god, do you like him?"

(Y/N)'s feet stuttered, her toe catching on the expensive marble printed tile under her feet, "Vera, be quiet! I was just really looking forward to this and it took me off guard that he was right there, you know?"

Vera let out a disbelieving hum as the entrance to the cafe came into view. "Sure," she smiled with a shake of her head.

The cafe was cute, (Y/N) decided when they stepped into the Parisian-esque set up that went with the French vibed hotel. The hostess came in the form of a barista behind a pastry counter, machines for any kind of coffee to be dreamt up gleaming behind the set up. Others dressed in the same cranberry hues of the uniform scuttled around the almost-empty cafe, the only occupied tables coming in the form of one clearly hungover woman nursing a black coffee, and the other housing someone talking loudly on a Zoom call with the volume all the way up. Apparently, they were planning a family reunion, but Aunt Beatrice was still pissed that Gwenyth didn't ask her to cater her wedding.

Interesting.

A sign by the entrance instructed guest to seat themselves and order at the counter when ready. Mr. Lambert walked in like he knew the place well, picking one of the tables in the corner of the set up, furthest from the entrance and from the Zoom call as they could be. (And, (Y/N) figured, away from prying eyes that might notice that this was literally Harry Styles and possibly leak his location as well as ask for photographs).

"This alright?" he asked, turning to Mr. Styles.

Tugging on his hat as if to lower it over his features, Harry nodded, sinking into one of the seats tucked into the corner of the boothed side of the table. He offered a small smile with raised brows as (Y/N) approached with Vera on her arm, a silent question of if they were alright with the placement as well.

"This is perfect! (Y/N), you first," Vera chirped, cutting (Y/N) off before she could even fathom responding.

Though it was gentle, Vera still shoved her towards the seat across from Mr. Styles, making it clear what she thought of (Y/N)'s excuse of being nothing more than excited at the business opportunity of working with him. He only gave her a soft smile as she settled in across from him, (Y/N) taking in a breath before dropping her eyes to the folder she laid on the table in front of her.

"I'm going to go up and order really quick, did anyone want anything?" Mr. Lambert asked as he stood at the end of the table, his bag tucked under his arm as he gestured behind him with a jerk of his thumb.

Vera didn't even finish dropping into her seat beside (Y/N) when she heard the words. She immediately popped up, offering to go along with him to order for both she and (Y/N).

"Croissant and chai latte, right?" she smiled at (Y/N). All that was missing was the sly wink she knew she would have given if not for the man sitting on the other side of the table. (Y/N) gave a still nod, feeling her blood pressure rise knowing that she was about to be alone with Harry Styles.

She distantly heard Mr. Lambert verify Harry's order—a plain black coffee—before their companions left to the front counter. (Y/N) had always prided herself on how easy she was able to pick up small talk and form a true conversation out of the topics; the beauty industry forced a lot of close contact with clients right up in her face, it would be odd and uncomfortable if she didn't find any minuscule topic to blabber about while blending eyeshadow. But in that moment, she'd never been more blank-minded, no matter the goldmine of topics carved into her brain that pertained to Harry Styles himself and all of the wonderful things she had learned about him in her research process.

But, only a beat passed before she heard the same rumbling voice from earlier pipe up from right across from her, drawing (Y/N)'s eyes away from the pastry counter their friends were browsing.

"Thank y'for coming out, by the way. I jus' realized I never properly thanked you," Harry smiled, dimples deep in his cheeks.

"Of course," she beamed, hiding her restless fingers under the table where she fiddled with her polished nails, "This is really an amazing opportunity to work with you and be a part of your tour, so thank you, Mr. Styles."

He waved off her formality, "Don't need to call me that. Jus' call me H, please."

(Y/N) remembered reading that most of his friends called him by that moniker. Though she was sure she was getting way too ahead of herself, her heart still skipped a beat at the implication.

"He and I had been looking for someone to come do the makeup for tonight for a few weeks before I found your page," he continued, having no idea how her nervous system was buzzing under her skin. The eye contact she was sure she was going to have to train herself to get used to, especially when he was in her makeup chair, returned. Lillypad green bright against his dark, curling lashes. "I love your work, especially the editorial things I've seen on your website. I was so happy to hear that y'were interested in helping us out and willing to travel cross-country for this. 'M really excited to work with you, so, really, thank y'for being here, (Y/N)."

So, it had been him that had found her page and liked it so much that he passed it along to his stylist to message her. Now, if she was concerned about her heartrate before, she worried she was going to have to have Vera call 911 after this.

There was something about the idea of him searching through his Instagram and passing on much more established and well-known artists before finding her page. He took the time to pursue her feed before clicking the link in her bio to see more examples of her art. And he liked what he found. Though she was sure they were not at all on the same level, the fact that there could be even a small amount of admiration on his end for the things she put into the world the same way she admired everything about his decade-long career was enough to make her want to scream into her pillow in her suite upstairs.

"Of course, H. There's no where else I'd rather be."

His grin widened at the emphasis on his nickname, a beat passing as his eyes dropped to his phone he had laying face down on the table. "Has Lambert shown y'any pictures of the costumes yet? We jus' got them in a couple days ago."

She perked up at the mention of the outfits she'd been eager to see the final product of since she was shown those mock-ups so long ago. "No, he hasn't. I didn't know you got them in already," she bubbled off, "Do you love them?"

"I do, yeah," he responded, reaching for his phone before unlocking it with a swipe, "They're everything I pictured when I talked to Alessandro about them."

At the casual mention of the creative director of Gucci, (Y/N)'s smile widened. How cool must it be to be friends with people like him.

Harry swiveled his phone around to show her the photo displayed on the screen. A yellow, velour covered mannequin was set in the center of the picture with a blue gingham dress draped over the form. This was the Dorothy outfit they had proposed, she realized. The idea had come a long way from the mockup she had seen.

The details were extraordinary, adding to the overall look with things she wouldn't have even thought to add. From what she could decipher through the pixels, it looked like there were glittering strawberries printed over the fabric, breaking up the baby blue pattern of the gingham that was quintessential to Dorothy glam. White detailing was placed all throughout the costume to the white, puffy, bloomers under the dress and the open collar at the top. Crystalline buttons were placed down the front, stopping at the high waist of the dress where a bow was stationed to be right under Harry's chest when he put it on.

"That's so cute," she praised, jaw dropped and eyes wide as she directed her attention to him behind his phone, "The little strawberries are everything."

"Yeah?" Harry smiled proudly, angling the phone just enough for the both of them to see as he leant across the table, "Those were m'idea." He swiped his finger across the screen, pulling up a photo of a pair of boots with red crystal detailing. "I've got these shoes to go with it, and a pair of red tights 'm going to wear under it all. I don't have a picture of the bow, but I got one made from the extra fabric to put in m'hair and then I think Lambert is having one of his assistants put together a basic for me to carry m'Toto dog in, too."

(Y/N) pictured all the details as best she could, finding the entire look come together. Now that she had more information, all she wanted to do was break out her face charts and improve upon the ideas she'd had prior to coming out to New York.

They were going to need more blush, that was for sure.

Just as more praises were to fall from her lips, Vera and Mr. Lambert returned to their table with careful hands full of pastries and coffee. "Are you showing her the costumes, H?" he asked, setting a vegan spinach quiche and black coffee in front of H.

"Yeah," Harry smiled, angling the phone to show Mr. Lambert, "Was jus' telling her about the bag you and the girls are putting together for m'Toto puppy."

"Oh!" he sounded as he fell into his chair across from Vera, "Don't let me forget to ask Claudia how that's coming along before we get to the venue."

H only nodded his head before mumbling that he would set a reminder right then. Vera slid a croissant and the latte in front of (Y/N) in the silence, a heart having been created in the foam of her chai latte.

"Toto?" she asked, settling in at (Y/N)'s side, "Like the Wizard of Oz?"

"Exactly!" Mr. Lambert smiled over the rim of his coffee cup, "Night one is going to be Wizard of Oz themed with H being Dorothy and the rest of the band dressed as the other characters. Night two we're doing an Italian, glamorous take on clowns, right?"

"Mhm," H nodded, showing the other side of the table another set of photographs from his camera roll, "'S not scary or anything like that. We're going for more ruffles than murderous tendencies, I'd say."

Vera lent in close to (Y/N)'s side in search of a view of Harry's phone. On the screen was the same velour mannequin from the Dorothy pictures, now donned in a white, fluffy mass of lace and organza with tulle accents. It was a suit this time, full paints and a blouse with a black moon and stars stitched across the chest. At the neck there was a full collar piece, lace and sparkles and more ruffles tying the look together with a pair of flat lace up sneakers that matched the cream of the costume.

During the same conversation Mr. Lambert had introduced the Dorothy idea to her, he had mentioned they still had the other set of costumes in the works, nothing too concrete other than Harry wanted something completely different than what people were expecting (she remembers a Rocky Horror Picture Show set up being tossed out there before never hearing of it again). This was definitely not what she was expecting would have come together, but she loved it. It was different, but still so delicate that it seemed perfectly Harry and perfect for the Love on Tour she'd been an avid follower of.

"Is the whole thing lace?" (Y/N) asked, flicking her gaze to Harry.

"Most of the top is, yeah," he explained, nodding his head as he took his phone back, "But the pants are made of more satin than anything else. Figured that half needed to be a little less see-through."

(Y/N) had to make a choice not to think so hard about that comment. Not when it was already hard enough to remember he was a client.

A lopsided smile curled his lips, only a single dimple denting his cheek as he locked his phone and set it to the side. Tracing his eyes between the two women before him, Harry reached for the fork beside his slice of quiche, "Do y'have a favorite between the two?"

Though the mannequin had nothing on Harry's physique (there was no way the shoulders were as broad as the man before her), just the idea of the Dorothy dress stretching across the width of his body was enough to earn it first place in her eyes. And the strawberries were adorable.

"I think the Wizard of Oz set is perfect," (Y/N) shared, absently reaching for her latte to warm her fidgeting palms, "There's so much we can do with that. I have a few face charts already made up, but now seeing the costume, I feel like we could do a little more."

"You've got face charts already done up?" Mr. Lambert questioned, picking at the flaky layers of his own croissant, "What do you have?"

Though she was nervous to share her ideas with people she admired, (Y/N) had never been more excited to pull out these face charts. She just wanted to make everything perfect for these shows and for Harry.

Especially for H. She wasn't going to let him down.

—————

The soft sound of a the default iPhone alarm interrupted (Y/N) as she explained the diffused blush shape she wanted to go with for the clown costuming. The table fell silent as all eyes were directed to H's orange cased phone, the alarm he had set to not only remind Mr. Lambert to contact his assistant, but to act as a warning for the last five minutes of time they had left before he needed to head to the venue, started going off in the cafe.

"Don't forget to text Claudia," H absently muttered to his stylist as he reached for his phone, snoozing the alarm before giving his attention back to (Y/N) and the notes she had scribbled on the face chart. He gave her an apologetic smile, "Sorry to cut this short, I've got to get back soon."

"It's okay, I totally understand," she smiled, reaching for the completed face charts scattered over their table, "We still got a lot done."

Not only was both of Harry's looks in the final stages (Mr. Lambert wanted a breakdown of the exact wear time of the shades she was thinking before giving full approval) but Vera and Mr. Lambert had finished up more than half of the band's looks with (Y/N) popping in every now and then with her own expertise or suggestion. If Vera's plan had been to have (Y/N) work almost completely alone with H, she had succeeded, and (Y/N) was in no position to lie and say she was mad about it.

The entire meeting had gone like a dream once (Y/N) settled, falling into the work that fulfilled her. Nothing was more exciting than having a client add their own twists and flare to the look (within reason, of course, something that Beverly Hills housewives trying to look thirty years younger didn't realize). Harry was excited about each of the things she offered, and even pushed it further with a request for more of the bright red blush to be applied to the apples of his cheeks when dressed as Dorothy, and his band to have dramatic swipes of color applied to their faces for the jester costumes.

She was sad that it was cut short just as they were working on his own paint for the second Harryween show.

"Are y'coming to the show tonight?" Harry asked, handing her one of the face charts that had drifted to his side of the table. His multi-colored nails shown in the low lights of the cafe, but (Y/N) couldn't even try to decipher what shades he had used when their fingertips brushed as she took the page from him.

His skin was undeniably warm against her's, fingertips soft though tough enough to be strumming his guitar every night. The contact lasted for something of a second, but felt as if she had chugged down another chai latte, this one infused with a shot of espresso and the same red glitter that accented his Dorothy costume.

(Y/N) hadn't even been aware that her response was lagging until Vera elbowed her, "Are we?"

"Going to the show? I-I don't think so," (Y/N) stuttered, occupying her hands with the shuffling of her face charts.

"Do y'want to?

Eyes widening at his words, (Y/N) drew her attention from the folder to match the unfailing eye contact she was slowly getting used to. "Hm?"

"Did y'want to come to the show tonight? I know the guy playing, so I think I could pull some strings," he smiled, a lopsided curve with an amused glimmer in his green eyes.

"Harry, that's so—Thank you," (Y/N) sputtered, her heart rising to her throat at idea of getting to go to one of the shows she'd only seen videos of before. The ass speech only got funnier the more she heard it. "Vera can come with me, right?"

"Of course, yeah," Harry nodded, his smile wide on his raspberry lips. With another glance at his phone, his grin shrunk the smallest bits at the edges, "We've really got to go, but I'll see you tonight, right? If 'm not able to, I'll have Lambert send y'the details on where to go and everything, yeah?"

(Y/N) didn't even attempt to hold back her smile as they rose to their feet in the now empty cafe (the family reunion guy left about an hour earlier, thank goodness). "Yeah, that's perfect," she breathed, nudging Vera gently with the point of her elbow.

"Yeah, thank you, H," Vera bubbled off, heeding (Y/N)'s cue.

With the smile that H gave them before being herded to the lobby with the help of Mr. Lambert, (Y/N) felt like she was floating as she followed after them. Short goodbyes were shared at the entrance of the hotel, Mr. Lambert doling out hugs to the girls while H kept quiet with a shake of their hands though his hold lingered on (Y/N)'s.

As she watched them leave through the glass doors out to the New York sidewalk, all (Y/N) could think about was what she was going to wear tonight.

—————

With the lights down and fans screaming all around her, (Y/N) almost completely missed the sound of the Bukowski poem being recited through the loud speakers.

The band she would be working with closely at the end of the month filtered on stage, taking their respective spots before the beginning of Golden ticked through the arena.

It was then that a panel in the middle of the round opened up and revealed Harry dressed in an all black suit, chest left bare with the sleeves of his jacket decked out in feathers. A dimpled grin morphed his features into something almost god-like in the stage lighting, a guitar in his hands as he sauntered to one of the four microphones set up.

He was more than what she had seen in videos, completely transfixing before he even opened his mouth and even more enchanting when he finally did. Confidence radiated from each of his movements. He knew what he was doing and he was going to give this entire arena the show of their lives.

God, (Y/N) couldn't wait for October thirtieth.

—————

(Y/N) could only laugh at Vera's complaining as they stepped out of the Uber, rounding to the trunk where their kits were housed.

"How did it only get colder from the last time we were here?!" Vera whined, making a show of tugging out her case as if it weighed one thousand pounds and not ten.

"Because its almost winter, maybe?" (Y/N) quipped, aware of the string of fans dressed to the nines walking past them with prying gazes.

Despite Vera's complaints about the weather, it seemed she was the only one put off by the chill in the air. In honor of the 'fancy dress' code for the event, fans were decked out in costumes with no other purpose than to look as glamorous or spooky as possible for Harryween.

Many renditions of Harry Styles himself passed by, people dressed in high-waisted trousers and billowing blouses, leather suits with feather boas, or simply something seventies inspired with leathers and glitter draped over their forms. Others had taken cues from his music and videos, dressing as some of the girls from the Watermelon Sugar video, or even the fish from the Adore You shoot. More than one flower-powered hippie and glamorous zombie crossed their paths, trails of flowers and feathers were left on the sidewalk of the arena where everyone was lining out front for their pit tickets (Y/N) was sure they fought hard for.

Looking at the professional, all black outfit that adorned her form, (Y/N) wished she had followed her instinct and just worn the costume she brought along. Everyone looked so wonderful and she was sad she wasn't a part of the vision for the night.

Following the same directions given the first time they were at this venue, (Y/N) and Vera were escorted through a back entrance through the arena to where Harry and the band were awaiting their call time to get ready.

The Garden was celebrating the occasion with Halloween decorations posted through out the halls, more than one sign decreeing to "Trick or Treat People with Kindness" catching her attention.

"Have you talked to him at all since we left?" Vera whispered, her voice concealed from the sound of her heels clacking against the concrete floor.

"Who?" (Y/N) peeped, keeping her eyes trained on the security guard guiding them through the twisting hallways.

"Harry," Vera said, her inflection practically saying duh.

(Y/N) shrugged, "A little, yeah. Mostly right after we'd left he just asked how the show was and how the flight home went, but I haven't heard much from him since. Why?"

Vera only hummed in response, the same sly smile on her features that she always got now when Harry was brought up. (Y/N) hadn't been able to live down the moment when Vera caught her going through his photographer's Instagram in search of photos from the tour she hadn't seen yet.

Though it felt like they had walked miles in circles, the security guard finally led them to the main stage area. The last time she had seen this place, it was packed with people yelling, screaming, and singing at the top of their lungs while Harry Styles' presence filled in every inch of the limited free space left between patrons. Now, it was completely empty, a traditionally styled stage positioned on the other end of the arena replacing the trailing catwalks and the round he spent his time on the last time she was here.

In the middle of it all were three people, one that she recognized easily in a navy blue baby-tee with a smiley face printed on the chest, while the other two were still a mystery so far away. After thanking the security guard, he made his quick exit, a crackling coming from the handheld radio hooked into one of his belt loops before he disappeared down the stretch of hallways.

The static sound drew the attention of the three others, a bright smile gleaming on a familiar face once he realized who was here.

"(Y/N)!"

It took everything in her not to melt at the excitement he displayed at seeing her again. It was hard not to get infatuated with someone like Harry, and to have even a fraction of that reciprocated made her want to scream until her lungs were sore and she had no voice left.

"Harry!" she shouted back, closing the distance between them with her kit banging into her side from her hurried steps.

Once she drew closer, there were actually three others stood by instead of the two (Y/N) had previously counted. Cuddled in the arms of the woman she now recognized to be Harry's drummer was a baby boy with slippers in the shape of fish on his little feet, his attention placed on the man standing behind her that (Y/N) knew was Mitch, the guitarist she'd familiarized herself with through countless videos.

"I've been waiting for you," Harry smiled, pulling her in for a gentle hug now that she was close enough. He was careful of the makeup kit tucked into her side, his arms a loose band around her shoulders as (Y/N) wrapped hers around his waist.

In her research, she had found so many frantic and yearning tweets from fans saying they wish they could receive a Harry hug, swearing they knew he was the best and warmest hugger. She could adamantly confirm all of their suspicions now.

Though the contact was short, Harry moving to give Vera her own greeting, (Y/N) swore she could still feel the ghost of his hold around her form.

"(Y/N)," Harry started, giving her a smile before gesturing to the woman with the baby cuddled to her chest, "This is Sarah, she's the drummer in m'band."

Now that she had a name for the face, (Y/N) knew exactly who this was. It took everything in her not to make a joke about Harry actually being a part of Sarah's band. Instead, she reached a hand out for Sarah to shake, a bright smile on her face.

"Nice to meet you," she greeted, eyes falling to the baby boy on her chest that had his mom's nose. She remembered her being pregnant at the Grammy's—and what a warrior she was in a leather outfit while heavily pregnant playing the drums.

"You're the makeup artist for the next couple days, right?" Sarah smiled, bouncing her baby boy higher on her chest before reaching out a free hand to shake (Y/N)'s offered one.

"Yeah, that's me. My friend, Vera,"—(Y/N) pointed to her left, where Vera was being the ever polite character that she presented in front of clients—"is also going to be helping me with everything. Its the Wizard of Oz tonight, right?"

Sarah hummed, absently fixing one of the fish-shaped slippers on her son's feet, "Mhm, and I wonder who decided I was going to be the Wicked Witch." A pointed glance was shot in Harry's direction, playful anger laced over her features.

"That wasn't even m'idea, why are y'mad at me!?" Harry whined, dimples in his cheeks at her teasing.

"You're just upset that people come to these shows to see me, not you," Sarah pushed, shaking her head, ponytail bouncing behind her.

"Anyway," Harry sighed, rolling his eyes though his expression only softened when they landed on the baby boy falling asleep in his mother's arms, "That's Mitch, standing behind Sarah and not helping defend his best friend when he knows the truth."

The quiet man with the long dark hair practically hiding behind Sarah, quirked a short smile. Moving his eyes away from the dark hair sprouting from the baby's head, he gave a shrug in Harry's direction. "She's holding my baby, that takes priority."

Before Harry could whine some more, (Y/N) took it upon herself to reach around Sarah and properly introduce herself. "Nice to meet you, Mitch. You're the cowardly lion tonight, right?"

"Yeah," Mitch sighed, his shoulders deflating as he no doubt remembered the full fur suit he was expected to wear on stage tonight. If it were her, (Y/N) was halfway certain she would have dropped out of the band when she found out that detail; stage lights were not kind to layers.

Before much else could be said, a voice shouted out Harry's name coming from one of the tunnels flanking the stage. Once his attention was caught, the man shouting for Harry continued, "Doors open in an hour—everyone needs to clear out!"

Harry shouted back his agreement, a thumbs up tossed in the direction of the tunnel before he moved his attention back to (Y/N). "Are y'ready for me?" he asked, eyes dropping to the makeup kit at her side.

"Not yet," she said, now worrying about the time despite the fact she had more than enough time to get everything done, "I still need to set up and get everything ready." Looking to Vera over her shoulder, she found her giving a quiet nod in agreement. They didn't even know where the dressing rooms were.

"I can show y'where to go," Harry offered, eyes bright with his bottom lip tucked between his teeth.

Her heart stuttered at his proposal, already feeling her mouth go dry having the full of his attention and the beacon of his eyes directed on her. "If you're busy, I don't want t—"

"'M not busy."

Harry's words popped the bubble holding the butterflies in her tummy at bay, their wings now fluttering up towards her heart. From the corner of her eye, she swore she saw Mitch give Harry a look with raised brows and a flickering smile.

"I—Okay," (Y/N) agreed, her voice quiet.

A large smile bloomed over Harry's face, stealing the full of her attention before Mitch's voice piped up in the quiet of the empty arena. "Vera, right?" he called over (Y/N)'s shoulder. She figured he received a nod from her assistant as he continued, "Sarah and I can show you where the band is getting ready, if you want."

"Perfect! Thank you," Vera bubbled, sounding a little too happy to abandon (Y/N).

With their baby boy in tow, Mitch and Sarah tossed (Y/N) a short wave and a cordial It was nice to meet you! before leading Vera towards one of the winding tunnels. Looking to Harry, he met her eyes with his own hopeful green pair, a soft smile curled into his raspberry colored lips.

"C'mon," he murmured to her, beckoning her with a wave of his hand as he started down one of the winding halls in the opposite of where Vera was led.

(Y/N) practically tripped over herself to get in line with him, her kit banging against her side as they walked. Their steps echoed over the concrete flooring, her boots substantially louder than the soft padding of Harry's Vans.

"How was the flight?" he asked, his voice breaking up the sound go their feet and the beating of (Y/N)'s erratic heart in her chest.

As simple as the question was, one she would typically assume was a half-assed attempt at small talk by one of her clients, it took one look at his face to know he truly wanted to know her answer. After being away from him for so long, the impact of his eye contact was like new.

Harry listened intently to each of her answers as they walked, actually seeming to care about the bland, wilted salad she splurged on during the flight and the book she had brought along that she was still iffy on whether she liked it or not. If not for the fact he had to ensure they didn't walk into any walls or take a wrong turn, she knew he would have stitched his gaze to her.

"After you," he mumbled, opening the door to his dressing room for her.

A shy smile took (Y/N)'s features as she stepped over the threshold. The set up of the room was simple: a large vanity spanned one wall, soft focus lighting lining the top of the mirror, with a single couch lining the back wall facing the mirror. A plain white garment bag hung from a single rack off to the side, an index card taped to the front spelling out in bold, black letters HARRYWEEN NIGHT 1. If not for the small personal touches dotting the room, (Y/N) would have assumed there wasn't a show to be had in only a few hours.

A warm scented candle was placed in the middle of the vanity space, a peach colored lighter set up beside it in wait. The loose knit of a chunky blanket hung over the back of the couch, bright colors making up the patches of yarn knotted together. The things most notably Harry came in the form of a bottle of cologne on the vanity, a stack of books, two tall on the nondescript side table by the couch with a journal tucked under it all. (Y/N) even spotted a clear plastic case with a tube of toothpaste and a pink toothbrush tucked away.

"Do you mind if I...?"

The sound of Harry's question stole her attention. Whipping her head in his direction, (Y/N) found him with his raised brows, the door shut behind him as he reached for the peach tinted lighter beside the candle.

"No, no, go for it," she bubbled off once she realized what he was asking.

A soft smile touched the corners of his mouth as he grabbed for the black votive that housed the candle described as Autumn Mist. "Y'can set up wherever y'want, don't have to wait for me," Harry said, flicking his eyes from her as the lighter in his hand sparked up.

"Right," she breathed through a smile as if just remembering what exactly she was here to do.

She was aware of Harry settling the candle in his home at the back center of the tabletop before he sat down in the single chair propped in front of the mirrors. Willing her eyes to keep to her hands instead of drifting to the mirror where she knew she would find Harry was one of the hardest things (Y/N) thinks she'd ever done. The heat of his eyes on her hands, his gaze tracing over her profile only made it that much more tricky.

"Can I help with anything?" Harry asked, breaking through the quiet of the room.

The brush cup in (Y/N)'s hand rattled as she jumped, the click of her nails pinging against the iridescent plastic. "Oh, um," she stuttered, eyes trailing over the spread of her kit, "You could sort these brushes if you want? The small ones to the empty side of the cup with the bigger ones being left for later."

He practically bounced in his seat at the opportunity to help, reaching for the brush cup in her hand. His eyes dropped to her hands as she passed the two halves off, gaze brightening even further at what he saw.

"Our nails match!" he bubbled, setting down the empty half of his project to show her the gleaming red paint on his fingernails.

The nerves that had tainted (Y/N) the second they were set to be alone began to dissipate at the innocent excitement on Harry's face. Fanning out her own fingers she placed them by Harry's, the matching candy apple color sparkling under the vanity lights. "They do, yeah," she smiled, "What color did you use?"

Harry's smile turned secretive as he gave a final wiggle of his fingers before returning to his task, "'M not allowed to say; 's not out yet."

"Oh?"

(Y/N) didn't want to come off as the wild fan she knew she turned into during those months of research before today, but if it had anything to do with the Pleasing brand she had read rumors about she might scream a little.

"'S for something 'm announcing in a few weeks," he explained further, his red painted nails plucking eyeshadow brushes from the bundle in the cup, "I've already got in trouble for telling a few people because I got too excited, so 'm really not allowed to say anything. Sorry."

"Don't be sorry," (Y/N) assured, buzzing at the fact she knew something would be happening in a month, even if she didn't have any details, "Whatever it is, I'm sure it'll be really good."

"Thank you," he beamed, looking up at her from the growing pile of brushes in his hands, "When y'see what it is, will y'tell me what y'think?"

Essentially, he was asking to hear from her again weeks after their professional relationship was set to come to an end. Luckily, (Y/N) was busy rifling through the blush compacts she brought along, knowing that if she were busy doing the job she pawned off on Harry, it would have been too obvious how heavy her hands were shaking.

"Of course."

They fell into a quiet rhythm, Harry sorting through the brushes with a determined pout on his lips. (Y/N) did her best to bite back the smile tugging at the corners of her mouth.

He was so cute. And to think she was so taken with him in photos alone.

"So," she started, having the products she planned on using for tonight placed in perfect order, "We have a little bit of time before we really have to start if you wanted to wait? Anything else you wanted to do before I stick lashes on your eyes, you can do now."

"You brought the lashes?!" Harry practically bounced in his seat, eyes bright and wide as he looked up at her, "I didn't think Lambert told you!"

An aerated laugh fell from her lips, leaning against the counter with her hip popped into the surface. "I only brought some half lashes, nothing big, but I have a few options for you to pick from."

"Can we put them on now? I want to see what I look like with them on."

Nothing was more endearing than the enthusiasm he was sharing over the application. "We can if you want," she repeated, "But I don't want to put it on too early if you have other things to do. You still have a while 'til the show starts, right?"

"Yeah, but I want to take pictures and everything, too. I jus' wanna make sure 'm all pretty so we have enough time for that, too."

He wanted to be pretty.

"Alright," she smiled, "We can do that."

Harry's grin only grew at her agreement, his hands falling to his lap. "Thank you."

(Y/N) bit back her smile as she rifled through her prep products, a crystalline moisturizer being her first pick. "The lashes will probably be the last thing we put on, so, if you want to look through the ones I brought and pick your favorite, you can do that while I do the rest," (Y/N) offered, nodding her head towards the lash case she brought along as she scooped out dollop of the face cream.

An Oh! sounded from Harry before he reached for the pink plastic case, trying his hardest to keep his face angled upwards for (Y/N). A platinum dusting of what the brand called 'stardust' was laced through the moisturizer, painting his skin in a dewy glow she hoped would shine on the high points of his face during the show. Her fingertips gently massages the product into his skin, gently tracing his features with the pads of her fingers. He ooh'd and aw'd in gentle tones as he looked over the small strips (Y/N) brought along, his natural lashes brushing her hands as he flicked his gaze over the products.

"Did you see the line outside?" (Y/N) asked, settling into artist mode and finding the realms of conversation to fill the silence, "I don't think I've seen so many feather boas in one spot before."

His features lit up at the mention of his adoring fans. "Yeah? I haven't had a chance to peek out, yet. What's it look like out there?"

"Well," she started with a breathy laugh, reaching for a gentle lip mask to condition his pout before the lipstick, "There's actually several versions of you running around outside, and almost everyone has either some form of those bunnies on them or a feather boa. I'd hate to be apart of the crew that has to clean all that up."

"They're dressed up like me?" he questioned with a smile to his tone as (Y/N) brushed the mask over his lips.

"Mhm," she hummed, concentrating on his skin, "You at the Grammy's, the cover of your album, and from pretty much every music video you've done."

"Wow," Harry breathed, his awe quiet in the space between them.

"Right?" (Y/N) prompted, her own smile creeping on her face as she watched the tip of his nose and points of his cheekbones turn red with blush, "Other than that, I saw lots of hippies and lots of people dressed up with all the flower power. And a couple of zombies"

With his skin completely prepped and glowing in wait for the cosmetics stacked behind her, (Y/N) drew away to get a look at the canvas she was working with for the next couple of days. Glancing over his features, she only had one thought: she was one lucky artist to have a muse like him.

"You know," Harry started, his hands with the lash case clutched between his fingers falling to his lap, "I was worried no one was going to dress up. For the first time, I'd be the only one in costume when usually its the other way around."

(Y/N) shook her head, reaching for the light brow gel she wanted to start with while the skin prep sunk into his pores. "I feel like you should know by now, they would never do that to you—your fans. Plus, it'd be hard not to show up in costume to something called a 'Fancy Dress Party."

Harry's gaze flittered over her form as (Y/N) took a spoolie to his brows, brushing through the hairs and righting the fibers into a soft arch over his eyes. "You didn't dress up."

His tone was anything but accusing—if anything, it was curious—but (Y/N) couldn't help but feel like she'd been caught in the act. She shrugged, keeping her eyes on the gentle slope of his brows. "I wanted to dress up, but I was worried I would look a little silly walking in here dressed like a fairy when I'm supposed to be working."

"Y'brought a fairy costume?"

"It's currently stuffed at the bottom of my suitcase, but yes," (Y/N) smiled, taking the applicator brushed in the brunette tinted gel to his brows.

"Y'should've worn it. Could've been our second Glinda for the night."

The idea that he would have brought her into their little group for the night made (Y/N)'s cheeks warm along with the smile stretched across them. "Yeah?"

"Mhm," he hummed, gazing up at her from where she stood above him, "Would've fit right in."

"Maybe, I'll wear it tomorrow then," (Y/N) smiled, making one more swipe of the tinted gel though his brows before backing off.

The slope of his brows were now darkened and tamed, framing his smiling face as he looked up at her. As they discussed, she didn't have much to apply in terms of face makeup. With the strain of the show and the fact that Harry himself didn't want to have to worry about much, there wasn't a lot to apply outside of the blush and light powder to be dusted over his skin.

"What's next?" Harry asked as she plucked through the sorted brushes for one in particular.

With the large puff of a brush in one hand and a sheer face powder in the other, (Y/N) tipped the compact to show her client. "Just a little bit of face powder before I do your blush and everything. It helps everything go on smoothly."

Harry hummed at the information, most likely used to this step in the routine. His eyes fluttered closed as (Y/N) dragged the brush lightly over his skin, a satin sheen blending over the glow she already applied to his skin. The bristles tickled his nose as she dusted the tip, Harry scrunching up the feature as he huffed out a laugh.

"Sorry," she whispered, giving one last stroke of product over the center of his face before pulling away.

"'S okay," he placated her, blinking his eyes open as he heard the clink of the discarded brush handle, "I jus' never get used to that feeling."

(Y/N) assured him she would do her best to be careful from now on as she reached for a shimmering highlight powder. With a tapered brush in hand, she gently nudged his chin to the side, giving her an angled look at his cheekbone.

"Is this the blush?" Harry asked, his voice a bit muffled as he did his best to keep from moving his face.

"Not yet," she mumbled, concentrated on the subtle highlighting she wanted on the high points of his face, "Just doing a tiny bit of highlighting so there's dimension when we do the blush."

"Oh," he sounded, taking the moment to get a look at how his makeup was coming along when (Y/N) nudged his chin in the other direction, "Looks nice. I like it."

Her lips curled at the praise, a quiet thank you whispered between them as she tapped some of the glimmering gel around the C-shape of his eye. The vanity lights caught the highlight perfectly, the product melting into the warmth of his skin and the prep she had massaged into his pores beforehand.

"Gotta get your nose really quick," she warned, beckoning him to face her before tapping her ring finger into the gel.

She added the shine to the very tip of his nose, matching what was already applied to his cheekbones and the round of his chin. His skin was warm under her finger, the tip grazing over the ball of his nose before trailing along the straight angle of the bridge. Though (Y/N)'s eye was carefully concentrated on the blend of the product into his skin, from the peripheral of her gaze, she noticed the way Harry's own eyes were struggling to follow her finger. The farther up she went on his nose, the more his eyes crossed.

"What are you doing?" (Y/N) laughed out, backing up some.

A boyish smile took Harry's features, his lips curling to showcase dimples in his cheeks with just the faintest glimpse at white teeth. "I was jus' trying to watch."

"You're going to give yourself a headache if you keep trying to watch me like that," (Y/N) gently scolded, though her chastising lost all grit with the smile on her lips.

Harry only shrugged at her words, keeping his face tilted upwards as if she were the sun, awaiting whatever what next in her line up. (Y/N) sighed, the sound coming out more contented than bothered, as she reached for a detailing brush from her cup.

"Close your eyes," she directed, poking the bristles into the creamy product. Harry did just that, his features going soft as his eyes fluttered closed. She delicately painted the shimmering gel in the corners of his eyes, the sparkles catching the light. When he opened his eyes, it would give the effect of a more opened and awake eye shape, giving him the large, innocent set that Judy Garland had in the original Wizard of Oz.

While she was at it, she highlighted the bone under his brow, lifting his eyes and adding to the subtle dimension she was sculpting.

"There," she whispered when she finished, setting the highlight compact to the side with that brush joining the dirty pile.

Once he had the clearance, Harry eagerly looked in the mirror. "That's pretty," he smiled, bringing his finger up to gently point at the inner corner of his eye, "I like that bit a lot. Makes m'eyes look big."

"Good, that's what I was going for." (Y/N) felt proud of herself; no matter how minimal this makeup was, she was happy she was pulling it off to his liking. "Now its time for the blush," she said, reaching for the bright red blush compact he had specifically chosen the last time she was in New York, "You still like this color right?"

Harry perked up at the sound of the blush, his posture straightening as he peeked at the pressed powder waiting for him. "This is the same red we found?"

"Mhm," (Y/N) hummed, absently grabbing for the brush she planned on stamping the color on with before she would defuse the plots, "But I brought a couple more in case you weren't sure, anymore."

"No, no," Harry shook his head, gleaming bright eyes gazing up at her with excitement in his irises, "I like this one still. It matches m'dress."

With the brush in hand, (Y/N) tapped the bristles in the bright red powder, careful to start with a light dusting before working her way up. "Did you pick the lashes you wanted?" (Y/N) asked, distracting him from trying to watch her do this part of his makeup as well. She was scared to see how he would try to maneuver his eyes to see his cheeks.

"I liked the ones on the top the best, the longer ones," he murmured, keeping from moving his mouth too much as she stippled the blush over his cheekbones.

"Okay," she mumbled, the words coming out a little lazy as she was concentrated on the distribution of the bright color, "Did you want help putting on the mascara or did you want to do that part?"

A beat passed as (Y/N) switched sides, copying the same technique she'd used on the opposite cheek. "I think I want y'to help me. 'M scared I'll poke m'eye out if I try."

"I can do that for you," she smiled, stepping back to check the symmetry of the placement. The bright blush was placed perfectly over his cheekbones, an oval shape stretching over his cheek that emulated the shape she gave his highlight. Exactly like she pictured it.

Taking a much larger brush, she dipped into the excess powder she tapped out on the back of her hand before blending out the splotches placed on his cheek. Swirling her brush, the shade lightened as she worked, some of the bristles catching on the stray hairs of his beard line. The shade lightened into soft pinks around the edges as she blended out the blush, the shape matching that of a face chart she had pored over for weeks.

"I love that," (Y/N) said, leaning back once she finished the blending of the blush, "That looks perfect, I think."

"Yeah?" Harry bubbled, flicking his gaze from hers only to look at himself in the mirror as he angled his head in different directions. "It is perfect," he awed, "'S jus' like we planned."

Pride puffed her chest as he seemed to love it all as much as she did. All that was left was the finishing touches of the lashes.

(Y/N) told him as much, prepping him for the wand that was going to up close and personal in a moment. Rooting through her supplies she found the disposable mascara wands she brought along, and the tube of sensitive mascara she opted to use on him. He wasn't exactly used to products being so close to his eyes—there'd only been one photoshoot before this where he was in something more extensive than some face powder, he'd told her— so she needed to go easy on him. The lashes tucked away in the case would make up for the length she was forfeiting with this gentle formula.

"Okay," she said, bringing the saturated wand to his eye, "I just want you to blink into the spoolie. If I'm too close to your eye or if something hurts, let me know."

Harry murmured an okay, his knees knocking into her's as he adjusted his position. He cautiously did as she instructed, carefully blinking his lashes into the wand dipped in product, though she could tell he was worried something was going to go awry even with her help.

"Careful," she whispered when he flinched as she swiped at the baby lashes in the inner corner, "I don't want to poke you."

He didn't say anything in response, instead (Y/N) felt his hand reach out and grab at her thigh as if to steady himself. His hands were free of the rings she knew he favored, feeling nothing but the reach of his long fingers to wrap around the full of her leg and warm her skin with his palm. It was her turn to feel a bit shaky now at the gentle contact. Taking in a deep breath, she made a point to concentrate on her hand now that there was something very distracting tugging at the back of her mind.

Even when she took a step back, rewetting her applicator with a new coat of mascara for the other eye, Harry never lessened his hold on her. If anything, it tightened some when she lent in again, repeating her earlier instructions, as if she wasn't struggling to screw her head on straight under his touch.

"Okay," she peeped when she finished, reluctantly stepping back to discard of the used spoolie, "all done."

An easy smile stretched over Harry's face, as if he wasn't buzzing under his skin like (Y/N) was. "Not as bad as I thought it would be," he concluded, bringing his hand up to rub his fingers along the line of his jaw, "Only got scared once."

"Yeah," (Y/N) agreed, making a point to continue rifling around for her lash glue as if it wasn't floating on top, "You did really good, Harry."

She could practically feel his smile on her back while she applied short strips of glue to his chosen lashes. He was definitely one for praise, that was for sure.

"While we let the glue get tacky on your lashes, wanna do your lipstick?" (Y/N) suggested reaching for the tray of lip colors she'd brought.

The eager nod of Harry's head brought his curls swooping down his forehead and gazing the tip of his nose. "What colors did y'bring?"

(Y/N) presented the tray to him, several tubes in sparkling packaging calling out to him to peek through. "I was thinking something soft like a rose color because your cheeks are so bright, but its up to you."

He hummed at her input, rooting through the tubes and peeking at the names stamped on the bottom. Finally he pulled the cap off of one in matte pink packaging, from a drug store brand she adored. Twisting it up, the bullet was a soft pink that went on sheer and glossy, the shade one of the ones in the top three of her choices.

"This one good? I think a red would be too much, even if I think they're pretty." Harry looked up at her with the tube in his hand, seeking approval with the raise of his brows.

"That's what I would have picked," (Y/N) smiled, already taking the lipstick from his hand before plucking around for a lip brush, "I don't know why I'm here, you've got all the great ideas it looks like."

Harry laughed as she dipped the brush in the slope of the lipstick, "I could never do all of this, especially not the eyelashes. I would've hated to see what I would look like if y'weren't here, (Y/N). Even if y'aren't dressed up like one, you're still like m'fairy tonight."

Something in her heart shook at the sound of being called his anything.

This was a client, this was a client, this was a client.

The words rang through her head like a mantra as she swooped the lipstick over the soft pout of his lips. Maybe he was nothing more than a natural flirt—she'd read enough stories about him to know how easy it was for others to become so entranced by him—, but, god, was he getting to her. She didn't know what she was going to do once these two nights were over.

After she requested him to roll his lips together, the sheer rose color smoothing over his mouth, she reached for the short lashes waited behind them.

"Ready?" she asked, one of the lashes carefully pinched between a set of tweezers.

"Should I close m'eyes?" he asked, looking entirely too gorgeous with his face made up.

"Not yet, I want to place them first, then I'll let you know," (Y/N) explained, settling in the same position as when he had grabbed for her leg.

With his eyes bright and open, (Y/N) struggled to keep from falling into the lillypad green. The placement of the lashes was going to make or break this entire look, and she didn't want to let Harry down since he was so excited about this part in specific. His eyes watched each of her movements as she lined the strip along his lash line, the fibers blending in with his natural lashes. It took only minor adjustments to pinch his lashes together and ensure the glue was going to hold before she moved onto the other eye.

"All done," (Y/N) whispered once she finished adjusting the set of lashes now gracing his eyelids. Luckily for him and for his ability of sight, he hadn't grabbed for her again; if he had (Y/N) worried she might have poked him right in the eye with her tweezers.

"How do I look? Am I Judy Garland yet?" Harry teased, sitting up straight in the chair though he kept his gaze trained on her.

"I'd say close to, yeah," she smiled, the curl crooked as she laced her fingers together behind her back in anticipation of his reaction, "Take a look."

Whipping his head towards the mirror, Harry took in the full of his glamorized appearance. The subtle highlight caught the light perfectly, opening his eyes with the gentle flare of the lashes wisping out from the corner. He twisted his head in different angles, and wiggled his nose in hopes of catching the small details of the makeup they had planned together. The lashes seemed to be his favorite part with the way he couldn't stop blinking and fluttering his eyes, the tickling against his brow bone eliciting a breathy laugh.

"You're so good at this, you know?" Harry complimented, taking his gaze from from his reflection, "I knew y'were good from what I saw on your Instagram and everything, but it's so cool to see y'actually do it. Thank y'for coming out to help me, it really means a lot. I definitely couldn't have done this without you."

Biting back the grin that tugged at her lips, (Y/N) dropped her gaze to the collection of brushes that would need to be cleaned before being reintroduced to her kit. "I'm sure you would have managed just fine, but I'm happy you like how it turned out. Thank you."

"I don't think I would have, (Y/N)," he pressed, sinking into his chair as if to take her all in as he spoke, "I know for sure I would have poked m'eye out with those tweezers if I was in charge. If I was left by myself, I don't think there would have been a show tonight unless everyone came with me to the emergency room and watched me sing as every eyelash was pulled out of m'eye."

Her laugh filled the air in large strokes at his words. "Now you're just being dramatic," she said, shaking her head, "Is anyone coming to do your hair or are you going to be in the ER with a hairbrush attached to your scalp?"

Dimples appeared in his cheeks at her teasing though he tried to feign offense, "I've recently been granted hairbrushing privileges, you know—I don't have to have supervision anymore, so your jokes can't hurt me," he countered, a snooty raise to his brow as if he was only proving how high and mighty he was, "But, someone is supposed to come and help me put the bow in m'hair before we take photos."

(Y/N) continued cleaning up her kit though she knew she was being slower than usual, "I'd better go see if Vera needs any help then, so everyone's ready on time."

"Oh, you're not going to stay with me?"

His simple question was enough to make (Y/N)'s hands stutter as she plucked the lip brush from its discarded position on the side of the vanity.

"I can come back if you want, but I left a lot of work to Vera. I don't want to leave her high and dry and make your show run late because we didn't get everyone in makeup on time."

"You'll come back though to see my outfit and everything?"

She swallowed around the sudden dryness in her throat.

"Of course, I will."

From the corner of her eye, (Y/N) spotted a similarly red polished hand reach out to help her in packing away her things, plucking brushes up while she organized her compacts and products. Harry gently bumped his hip against hers, smiling down at her with his grin tinted a rosy pink.

"Will y'stay for the show, then, too?" he asked, voice quiet between the two of them. The length of his lashes reached as far as the stray hairs dotting his brow bone, the shimmer in the corner of his eyes almost as bright as the light in his irises.

"Am I allowed to? I feel like you're not supposed to be giving out backstage passes and tickets to everyone you meet." (Y/N) smiled although she knew she was deflecting. He was asking her once against to extend her time with him, and it was making her feel a little crazy.

Her mantra from earlier struck through her skull—he's a client.

"You're not jus' anyone," he countered, his smile going lopsided as he gazed at her, "I want y'to be there, see the show and everything." She watched as he dropped his eyes to his hands as he reached for the brush cup he had started the night with. "But if y'have other plans or anything, 's alright. I jus' wanted y'to know you're more than welcome to stay—that I would really like it if y'did."

He's a client, he's a client, he's a client—Harry Styles is a client.

"I think I could clear my schedule."

—————

There was something different about this show compared to the last one (Y/N) had the privilege of attending.

If the anticipation had just about been tangible in the air the last time she was in this room, this time around it bordered on electric. She and Vera were tucked away in a careful corner of the venue, close enough to catch the details of the stage but far enough away that they weren't encroaching on any of the fans' space who had waited outside all day for this. Orville Peck (who she'd just barely met when he was running around backstage before his set) had finished just barely a half hour beforehand, giving the crowd more than enough time to get riled up at the fact Harry was next.

It was when the lights went down that the mood in the room shifted. For a split second, it was as if the entire arena took in a collective gasp before screams rang out, visible tears springing into the eyes of some of those around them at what was happening in mere seconds.

Just like the first time, the band filtered though first, taking their places at their respective instruments in full costume just before the notes of Harold Arlen's We're Off to See the Wizard blared through the arena. Then, it was Harry's turn.

(Y/N) was granted a preview of the look when she had made her way back to his dressing room after helping with the band. The time in-between leaving him and helping Vera had been utilized to get him in full costume with bright red knitted tights covering his legs and the blue gingham dress draped over his form. The sparkling boots he had excitedly showed her pictures of earlier that month were one of his favorite parts he said, the illusion of the heel though it was nothing more than one of his signature boots had made him want to prance around he told her.

But, under the lights it was like she was looking at him for the first time.

The stretch she had imagined the costume to go through seemed amplified under the lights, his shoulders broad and squared under the delicate fabric. The dots of the embroidered strawberries glimmered under the stage lights, matching the bow on the top of his head that secured the curling sprout of his hair upwards. He skipped along the stage confidently, knowing that not only this arena was watching him so intently, but in the coming days there would no doubt be articles and photographs detailing every moment of his presence on the stage tonight—showing the world what he did. The only thing that might have outshined the smile on his face and the glimmer of his highlight was the pair ruby slippers on his feet.

All the while, he was holding the picnic basket with his Toto dog cradled inside.

The crowd of adoring fans screamed and cheered at a decibel that (Y/N) hadn't known existed until that moment. The screams lasted longer than she knew anyone could push their lungs to do, Harry's grin never lessening as he traded his picnic basket for his guitar. Charles Bukowski's poem rang through as he swaggered up to the mic jus before the opening notes of Golden shook through the venue. If at all possible, the cheers only seemed to grow louder. She'd heard rumors and seen videos of The Garden's floor physically shaking when he played this venue, even getting a taste of that when she was here last. These last two minutes alone proved she was going to get a much bigger picture of that tonight.

This was definitely going to be the kind of night that got the floor shaking, she was sure of it.

—————

It was one a.m. when (Y/N) finally snuggled under the white down blankets in her hotel room. Vera had long passed out, barely taking the time to wipe her makeup off and remove her lashes before faceplanting on her bed.

The night's show was still rattling through her bones as she sunk into the mattress, the screaming of the guitar in Kiwi pumping through her veins. When they left the venue, she and Vera had laughed at how unsteady the stable ground felt after becoming used to the shaking of the floor at Madison Square Garden.

And she got to do it all over again tomorrow.

Just as she was drifting off, her work phone pinged from where it was charging on the night stand.

If not for the contact going to her professional number, she would have ignored the notification, but it was never a good thing when a client reached out to her in the middle of the night.

Through bleary eyes, she swiped open the message only for her eyes to widen and heart to flutter.

Harry Styles

Thank you so much for coming tonight and staying for the show!!! I can't wait to see you tomorrow:)

Happy Halloween love!

She couldn't wait to see him tomorrow either.

—————

The trek down the hallways at Madison Square Garden were now familiar as (Y/N) traced her way to Harry's dressing room.

Her heels clicked against the floor as she took the sharp left she remembered almost missing every time, even when she was escorted to the room, aware of the trails of glitter all over the concrete. She had no doubt there was a fresh trail being left behind her.

The sight of the bright white piece of paper stuck to the door with Harry's name boldly printed across the page brought a smile to her face. Though she was well aware that this was the last night she had any excuse to see him again, she vowed to do her best to not think that far ahead. She was going to have fun with him tonight, and take her time while she had it with him.

Giving a light knock on the door, she shuffled in her costume. She knew she was a bit early, her and Vera being the only ones dressed up until the venue filled and Harry and the band were put in their own costumes, but she hoped he wouldn't think she was silly coming so put together.

"(Y/N)!" she heard Harry cheer as he opened the door, his grin growing as wide as his eyes when he caught sight of her.

"Hi, H," she smiled, absently tugging at the shoulder strap of her kit, "How are you?"

He beckoned her inside with his eyes stitched to her form, his smile keeping stuck to his lips. "'M good, love, 'm really good,"

Before she had much of a chance to set up her kit in the now familiar room, Harry opened his arms wide to her. A sliver of his hips were revealed from the movement of his arms, showing the black laurel tattoos that would soon be covered by the costume hanging in the white garment bag. His body looked soft under the white t-shirt though she knew (from music videos she only felt a little bad about viewing more than a handful of times) that he was solid.

(Y/N) didn't hesitate before taking him up on his invitation for a hug. She walked into his arms with a case of bashfulness following after her, her arms going around his middle while he wrapped his own across her shoulders. She settled with her cheek lightly against his chest, very aware of the makeup on her face.

If this were with anyone else—anyone other than Harry—this would have felt forced and a little rushed considering this was the third time they were meeting up. But, maybe it was the text from the night before or the way he seemed to look at her with a certain degree of tenderness in his gaze, but (Y/N) felt comfortable in his hold.

"How are you?" he asked her, audible smile in his voice before he drew away. His hands lingered over her form as he moved them to settle on her arms, his eyes trailing down her body with his eyes taking in the details of her costume, "Y'look wonderful—like Tinkerbell, but all pretty in red like Cupid."

A bright smile took place on her features as she offered a shy shrug. "It just gave me an excuse to finally wear these boots," she told him, kicking out her foot between them that was clad in a bright red, patent leather boot that matched that of her fairy costume.

(Y/N) was very aware of Harry's gaze that marched down her form, taking in the little, red satin dress draped over her form. Gold glitter rained down over the fabric, concentrated the most in the choppy cut of the hem that emulated that of Tinkerbell. Her hair was pulled back with a shimmering tie covered in butterflies, allowing the dewy makeup she applied to her face to be seen. Glimpses of gold highlighted her skin, and down her neck while traces of red blush and diffused red shadow were applied to her face. All the while, a pair of glimmering gold fairy wings were pinned to her back.

By the time his gaze finally returned to hers, (Y/N) was almost sure that there was no more air in her lungs. The smile he gave her was lopsided as he spoke, "Well, I like it a lot. Gonna give me a run for my money, that's for sure."

She wasn't going to survive him if he kept this up.

"Thank you, Harry," she murmured, feeling her cheeks heat.

Something of a familiarity settled over them as Harry guided her to the vanity, offering to help her unpack her things as he asked her how she liked the show the night before. (Y/N) lagged a bit as she tried to catch up with him, feeling the after effects of his attention as she tried to screw her head on straight under the feel of his gaze. Through her praising of the show the night before—a very welcome distraction as she got to focus on something else—she could feel his eyes on her all the while. If he wasn't careful, she was going to have shaking hands while trying to do his makeup and that wasn't going to be helpful for anyone.

"Ready for me?" he asked as he sunk into the chair, the spread of (Y/N)'s products out on the vanity.

(Y/N) gave a nod of her head, leaning against the counter in an act of nonchalance she wasn't actually feeling. "But," she countered, "we don't have a whole lot to do for tonight's look if you wanted to give it some time. Unless, you were taking pictures again soon, anyway."

Harry seemed to contemplate her words, puckering his lips to the side as his eyes flicked to the products splayed along the counter. After a moment, he looked up at her with a gentle question in his eyes, "Do you have anything y'needed to do?"

"Other than helping you, no," she smiled, tapping her red polished nails on the vanity as if to punctuate her words.

A smile that tugged on the shy side took his features. "Do y'want to sit with me for a little then? Jus' hang out for a while before we have to get to work?"

Though (Y/N) had become at least somewhat accustomed to the fact that this was Harry Styles she was working with, the blinding edge of the novelty having worn off some (not all the way, this was still a very huge deal to her), in that moment she became heart-stoppingly aware of who had just asked her to hang out.

In the back of her mind, the mantra she had basically tattooed on the inside of her skull tried to poke through and erase the sound of Harry's voice.

This is a client, this is—

But, as she gazed at him, the raspberry color of his lips curled into a smile and the green eyes she had gotten an unobstructed view into the night before looking right at her, she couldn't find that mantra reason enough to say no. No matter if her heart was about to grow wings that matched the mesh ones on her back, she was going to make the most of this night with him.

(Y/N) answered in the form of taking the seat beside him, folding her hands in her lap though her attention never strayed from him. "How are you liking that book you started?"

The smile that took over his face was worth every bit of reality that would follow her home on the plane after this night was over.

—————

"Okay, you need to hold still, and let me finish this, H."

(Y/N) knew her stern facade was nothing but a crumbling tower with the strength of her words. Since sitting down and starting his makeup, Harry had been nothing but a pest, teasing and poking at her with an endearing smile on his face that made it a little too hard to be mad at him. She held a pair of tweezers in her hand, the final droplet shaped pearl pinched between the arms as she raised a less than intimidating brow at him. If he wanted the placement of this embellishment to to match the others, he was going to need to stop poking at her and quit his laughing.

"Okay, okay," Harry relented in a breathless tone, even going so far as to close his eyes to not be tempted to run astray again.

She was surprised at his quick compliance, noting the way that every time she had told him to stop crossing his eyes to watch her highlight his nose or to quit playing an all too flirty game of footsie with her as she tried to perfect the diamond-shaped pink blush over his face, that he couldn't seem to help himself and kept playing with her. Even as she applied the first three, he hadn't been this easy to listen; he had been trying his luck the whole time as if he wanted to see how close she could flinch at his eye before there was an unfortunate accident. What she wasn't surprised about, was the way he almost immediately crumbled as soon as she got close to him with the pearl, his mouth breaking out into a grin with his shoulders bouncing in quiet laugher.

"Harry," she scolded, her call of his name sounding a little too sweet through her smile.

"Sorry, 'm sorry," he laughed, blinking his eyes open to look up at her, "I promise I tried."

From the quirk at the side of his lips and the amusement in his eyes, (Y/N) doubted he tried all that hard.

(Y/N) made a show of heaving out a sigh as she grabbed for another dab of glue to dot on the apple of his cheek, the previous bit having dried after he took too much of their time pestering her. "Just hold still for five seconds, then you can go back to being annoying, I promise," (Y/N) mumbled as she dotted the paste on his skin.

"Hey," he whined, dragging out the syllables.

"Shhh," (Y/N) hushed him again, her smile only growing when she saw his dimples trying to peek out behind the offended facade he was putting on, "Let me do this."

Before he could say much else, most likely another distractingly teasing comment that was going to make her heart flutter in her chest and her blood sing in her veins, she laid an anchoring hand on his cheek. She was careful of the products they had already applied to his skin, specifically the dewy highlight on his cheeks and the diffused blush spanning up as far as the peaks of his brow bone, as she cupped his jaw in her palm. The intention was to help him keep still, but with his warm skin under her hand, (Y/N) knew this was going to be a much bigger distraction than his prodding if she wasn't careful.

Harry settled almost immediately at her touch, like he wasn't exactly expecting the extra warmth of her hand on his face. His shoulders seemed to fall into a gentle, relaxed slope though his mouth kept that darling curl to it.

Not allowing herself to focus too much on what had suddenly appeared between them, a palpable tension she wasn't in the right frame of mind to unpack at the current moment, she took advantage of his stillness and finally pressed the pearl into his cheek. Using the tip of her finger from her free hand, she adjusted the placement and righted the point of the droplet, her nail grazing against his skin.

She would always tell herself that she diverted her gaze from the point of that pearl to double check that it was matching up with the others on his face, specifically the one situated above his eye, but (Y/N) knew what she was doing when she immediately matched his own gaze. Harry was found intently watching her, the green of his eyes seemingly brighter now that she was giving him the same attention back (or it was the juxtaposition against the baby pink blush, but (Y/N) was going to take each of those romantic thoughts as she could).

For a moment, the makeup application she had been worrying about for months was forgotten. This was a stilled moment she couldn't have planned or worried for.

"Hi," he breathed, his small smile felt under her palm as the corners of his lips curled.

Maybe it was the glitter she had distributed underneath her eyes that vignetted her vision, but (Y/N) swore in that moment, stars had gravitated towards him and made him the center of the universe for one split second.

"Hi."

A heavy knock on the door almost made (Y/N) jump out of her skin where she stood. Her hand on his cheek fell as if it were doing something scandalous as the girl she recognized to be Mr. Lambert's assistant, Claudia came through the door only a moment later. Her bright smile gave nothing away as her gaze flitted over the two of them, (Y/N) probably a little too close now that all of the embellishments were stuck to his skin.

"Hi! I just finished lacing your shoes, so I thought I'd bring them by before you get dressed," Claudia explained, sweeping through the room towards the floating rack with the single garment bag hung up, "Sorry it took me so long, Lambert suddenly decided today was the best day to organize all of the suspenders we brought."

When Harry tried to speak, at first only a croak came out. Clearing his throat, he hesitantly took his eyes from (Y/N)'s form and looked to Claudia. "'S alright, thank y'for doing that."

"Sure!" she smiled, moving towards the door before stopping at the threshold, "How much longer do you think you'll be?"

Harry didn't hesitate to direct his attention back to (Y/N), his bottom lip coming to rest between his teeth. "Um," she stuttered, words not making a lot of sense in her head at the moment, "We just need to do his lips and then he should be ready."

"Perfect!" Claudia beamed, "Everybody else is getting dressed and ready, so whenever you're set we can take a few photos before you go on!"

"Okay, we'll be out soon then. Thank you, Clauds." The nickname was punctuated with a dimple sweet smile from Harry just before Claudia disappeared out of the dressing room.

Now alone, (Y/N) let out a breath she hadn't realized she was holding.

Why she felt so guilty, like she had been caught red-handed, she didn't know. Nothing had even happened, she argued with herself as she turned to rummage through the tubes of lipstick she lugged along for tonight's show, all she had done was adjust his makeup and he said hi to her. That was it.

Nothing scandalous, nothing unprofessional, nothing that she wouldn't have done with any other client.

Right?

"You're staying for the show again, right?" Harry spoke from behind her.

"Yeah, if that was alright," she answered, distracting her restless fingers with the help of the lip brush was she dipping into the pink lipstick pinched between her fingers.

"Of course 's alright," Harry countered as (Y/N) turned to face him, brush loaded with the pink lipstain, "I want y'there."

Tentatively leaning into his space again, (Y/N) was grateful for the fact he wouldn't be able to feel the heat flooding behind her cheeks. "I'll definitely be saying then, H," she murmured, starting to work on the flushed pink hue that he wanted painted over his lips.

All the while, she felt a pair of bright green eyes framed by pearls watching her.

—————

"(Y/N)!"

In the middle of Kiwi being blasted through the venue, the floor shaking beneath her feet, the sound of Vera's voice with her hand on her shoulder pulled (Y/N) from the Harry-centric dimension she had been transported to for the last hour and a half.

Whipping her head in the direction of her friend—who was happily dressed up as a sexy witch—(Y/N) found Vera being prompted by Harry's manager, Jeff, to get her attention. She'd only met Jeff for a few minutes here and there, particularly when photos were being taken and he took peeks at the shoot before being whisked off elsewhere.

(Y/N) switched spots with Vera, skirting around her friend to allow her to see the end of the show while she was pulled to the edge of the pit. "Is everything okay?" was her first question, the words shouted in his ear over the noise of the music and the crowd.

"Yeah," he answered, a nod of his head as he split his attention between this conversation and the man on stage, "H just wanted me to pull you to come backstage before the end of the show. He said he had something he wanted to ask you."

"Oh?" She reared back, a furrow to her brows.

Jeff only shrugged, "He just asked me to grab you right before he went on for encore."

"Okay," she relented, this not being the best place to extract information given that the sound of Elin's bass was rattling through her bones, "Let me grab Vera, I'll be right back."

All it took was for (Y/N) to share that Harry had something he wanted to ask her that Vera was practically taking the lead and tugging her along. Jeff escorted the two of them down the familiar roads to the backstage area, hidden in one of the tunnels of the venue and out of sight of the concert-goers though there was still a sliver of a view of Harry onstage.

The timing was serendipitous as Harry could be seen finishing his rounds, blowing kisses and sharing his thanks to everyone who came out for the show all around the stage. The lights went down just as the final crashes of Kiwi came to an end, leaving Harry to run off stage and join the back where his friends awaited him.

Adrenaline radiated off of him in waves, hair slick with sweat while his eyes shone with something she had only seen from her spot off to the side of the pit section. A broad smile was embedded on his lips. Harry bounced on his feet as he greeted those who had waited for him, asking how the show was, though he barely waited for an answer before bubbling off to another individual. When he caught sight of (Y/N), his energy seemed to explode between the two of them.

His smiling lips formed the syllables of her name before he bounded towards her, arms open. (Y/N) let out a small ooph as he scooped her into his arms, the wind being knocked out of her lungs at the force of his embrace.

"Hi," he greeted her, voice surprisingly soft given the energy haloing his form, "'M so happy you're here, thank y'for staying." If she hadn't been prepared for the hug, her surprise only grew when she felt a pink-stained kiss be planted on her cheek. Harry only tightened his arms around her as he settled into her neck, the mouth she felt the ghost of on her cheek now buried against her throat.

"I'm happy I'm here, too," she laughed, standing on the tips of her toes to accommodate the squeeze of his arms around her middle.

It took a minute for him to unpeel himself from around her, his adrenaline finally leveling out instead of coming in the erratic spikes that followed him off stage. He kept a loose arm around the small of her back, just under the wings she was itching to rip off her back.

"We—uh—We're, like the band and I and everyone, are going out for dinner after we get cleaned up and everything to celebrate. Would y'want to come with us?" Never once did his gaze flit anywhere away from her, the trademark Harry Styles eye contact being doled out tenfold with all of the glittering energy warping his halo.

There was no way she was going to be able to say no to that, now was she?

"Vera can come, too, right?" (Y/N) peeped, feeling the eyes of her friend lingering on their interaction in between conversation with the members of Harry's band.

At the mention of another's name, Harry seemed to remember there were more than just them in the catacombs of The Garden. He looked over his shoulder to where Vera and Elin were giggling away about something that was too hushed for them to hear.

"Of course, yeah," he nodded, his hand on her waist tightening, "That means you're coming?"

"I just need to get changed and everything, but I'll definitely be there."

(Y/N) should have expected the joyous embrace that Harry pulled her into at her words. Another delicate kiss was pressed to her cheek, the pink prints surely sticking to her skin. "I'll text y'the address then, yeah?"

"Okay," (Y/N) agreed, tightening her own arms around his middle to reciprocate his hug, "Thank you for inviting me."

"I couldn't have done this without you, you know that," he countered almost immediately.

Before much else could be said, Jeff tapped on Harry's shoulder, pulling him from the interaction. "We need to get you all cleared out before people start flooding out, c'mon."

"Right, right," Harry nodded, coming back to reality before unwrapping himself from around (Y/N).

They shared quiet goodbyes, Harry and the band of them tracing the steps back to their dressing rooms. More than once Harry turned around with a wave and heart-fluttering smile directed at (Y/N).

"So, we're going to dinner after this?" Vera asked, her presence closer than (Y/N) remembered.

"Mhm."

—————

Back at her hotel, (Y/N) couldn't bring herself to wipe away the kiss prints on her cheeks as she dressed down for dinner. She was going to keep those.

—————

"Did I get it?"

"No, it's still there."

"...Now, did I get it?"

"No, you're rubbing the wrong side of your face, what are you doing?"

Harry let out a frustrated huff as he looked at his still clean hands, the so-called glitter that was marring his cheek somehow still evading him. All the while, (Y/N) couldn't help the amusement from seeping into her tone and tugging at her features. She did try to be somewhat polite, hiding her smile behind her hand when she didn't think he was looking.

"Would y'jus' get it, please?" Harry requested though his words were annoyed enough (Y/N) could argue that they felt like a demand.

"You don't want to keep it?"

"(Y/N)."

At his tone, she relented with a sigh of Fine before playfully rolling her eyes. Truth be told, she kind of liked the look of him with the glitter, especially since she knew it was from her.

When he had hugged her back at the arena, smushing his face into her shoulder and kissing her cheek, some of the golden glitter that was sprayed over her own face transferred onto his skin and stuck there just like she wished she could. Even after he had wiped at his face, removing the makeup she applied for the show, the holographic specks remained stuck to his skin. It wasn't until appetizers had been brought to the table and everyone was one round of drinks in that (Y/N) finally revealed the secret of the glitter stuck in his stubble and underneath his eye.

"Come here," (Y/N) mumbled begrudgingly, twisting in her chair to sit with her legs over the side to face Harry completely. She scooted to the very edge, leaning into the familiar space around someone who was no longer her client as of three hours ago.

Harry lent towards her, stretching his neck out and offering the cheek with glitter smeared over his pores. (Y/N) took his face in her hands, palms gentle and warm around the cut of his jaw and the soft of his cheek. She did her best to pluck the specks off, though she knew better than most people that once you had glitter anywhere in your vicinity, it was going to be with you for at least another year, if not longer.

Though she was sure her efforts were going to be futile in the face of the glitter, at least she could take her time and finally admire the man she had in front of her.

She couldn't be more grateful for the late night policies of many of these New York City spots, and the low lights they utilized at this time of night. Harry was something of a god on stage, but under the faux candlelights and the neon bleeding in through the large windows on the face of the restaurant, he looked more prince than god. The tiniest of imperfections made their way to the surface, complete with a set of faint bags under his eyes (she couldn't imagine how exhausted he was after these two shows, let alone a whole schedule of concerts for the last two months), traces of his pink lipstain clinging to the ribs of his lips, and the blemishes that (Y/N) could imagine would pop up during a strenuous schedule like his.

He looked beautiful.

"Did y'get it?"

Harry's rumbling voice brought her back to her senses, noticing now only a single speck of sparkle remained on his skin.

"There's one I can't get, it just moves somewhere else, but I got the rest," she murmured, reluctantly leaning back into her own space.

Harry wiped a heavy hand over his face as if double checking her work though his fingers lingered over the same patches she touched. "Thank you," he said with a lopsided smile, a single dimple denting his cheek, "Should've had y'there to help me take everything off; would've done a much better job, 'm sure."

Wiggling her glitter colored fingers to show him the mess he missed, (Y/N) agreed, "Definitely could've done a better job than you."

With his eyes widening in shock, Harry let out a huff of a laugh. "I missed that much? And no one told me? They let me walk five blocks with glitter on half of m'face." He gestured around them to the others situated at their table.

The Love on Tour band along with Jeff, Orville Peck, Madison Cunningham, and Jenny Lewis with a few other members of the crew were seated all around. She and Vera had been the last to arrive, the walk from their hotel being a little bit longer than what she figured Harry's crew had to work with, but (Y/N) didn't mind, especially when it allowed Harry to properly introduce her to everyone around them. All the while her heart was operating on a rate of what felt like three-hundred beats per minute when she felt his hand on the small of her back as she lent over the table to shake hands with his colleagues.

But, her favorite thing about being late, was that Harry had saved the seat beside himself just for her.

Vera had made Elin and Ny her best friends for the night, while (Y/N) was happily sucked into the world of Harry Styles and the way he captivated her attention without even having to try.

Sweeping her eyes around the table, (Y/N) gave a shrug. "I doubt you're the weirdest thing to be roaming the streets of New York on Halloween Night, so I wouldn't worry."

That brought a laugh out of Harry's throat, his smile bright and dimples deep. "You're probably right," he said, sinking into his chair with his gaze lingering over her face, "It could be worse. I could be dressed completely normal, but with a face full of fairy makeup. Now, that would definitely be the weirdest thing to find out there."

(Y/N)'s jaw dropped in faux-offense, knowing exactly the kind of rib he was trying to poke at on her. It wasn't her fault she hadn't wanted to wash off her makeup just yet—if anything, it was his! Once she looked into the hotel mirror, dressed down in a heavy green sweater and a pair of leggings that had seen better days, (Y/N) couldn't find it in herself to part with the pink kiss marks dotting her cheek from a certain pair of lips she was dreading to forget.

Reiterating words she had told him countless times through the same smile when she was attempting to get him ready today, she told him, "You're so annoying, I can't believe I helped you!"

It wasn't until she made a point to wipe her glitter covered hand down the sleeve of his tan cardigan that (Y/N) realized she still hadn't moved into her original position, her legs still hanging over the side of the chair with her body angled completely towards Harry.

Harry caught her arm, his hand wrapping around her forearm in a grip strong enough to keep her from pulling much farther away. (Y/N) did her best to keep her breathing in check and the playful expression on her face as he lent closer, his own smile crooked and eyes sly and teasing, "'M only teasing, love, no need to get all worked up. You know y'look gorgeous—that's the only reason y'would catch anyone staring at y'tonight."

(Y/N) floundered for something to say, anything to fill the air between them, but in that moment her tongue felt dry and her throat was clogged with her heart. He was flirting with her, right?

Just then, Orville called across the table to Harry, asking him to settle a debate he had started up with Pauli. Harry only lagged a second behind, his hand reluctantly falling from around (Y/N)'s arm with his eyes lingering on her face before he turned towards his friends.

(Y/N) felt lucky in that moment to be on the end of the table, able to see everyone around her and their preoccupied positions while she had her momentary freakout. The warmth of Harry's palm remained around her arm, a ghost of his touch that seared into her skin with a soothing kind of heat.

From across the table, she caught Vera's eye. Her friend only raised a brow at her, a silent question asking if she was alright.

(Y/N) could only shrug. She wasn't going to be sure until her heart slowed down, and even then, with Harry right beside her, she knew she would be in limbo for the rest of the night.

—————

"Are y'sure y'can't stay?"

(Y/N) had to fight off the lovestruck giggle that bubbled through her chest at Harry's words. If she hadn't been already in a little too deep going into this project, tonight solidified the longtime crush she knew she was going to be carrying for him.

Even with all of his friends and colleagues around him, Harry's attention never strayed too far from (Y/N). When he was pulled into separate conversations, he even made a point to tug her along and ask her opinion or try to make her laugh. He was the same person in her makeup chair the whole night, just as funny and smart, though it seemed there was something more running under his words now. When she spoke, she swore she caught his gaze more than once slipping to her mouth.

But, all good things must come to an end, even the Halloween project that had taken roots in her mind for the last three months.

Though, in that moment, with Harry pleading for her to stay, bright green eyes framed by thick lashes she knew well, she wondered if there was any way for Halloween to last another day (or month even, she wasn't picky).

As much as she wanted to stay in her spot, stake her claim on this chair and never leave, (Y/N) remembered Vera waiting for her back at the hotel, having left an hour earlier when Sarah and Mitch declared it was time for them to go back to their baby. They had a booking in the morning for a pair of Real Housewives that (Y/N) had even been the one to remind Vera about, though now it seemed she was the one that needed the warning to go to bed and get some rest.

Reluctantly, (Y/N) nodded her head at Harry, her lips curving into a frown. "Vera and I have a booking with some Real Housewives in the morning, and I already know its going to be a mess, even without me staying out late."

Harry perked up at the sound of the franchise she was to work with, a murky memory she had read months back about him being a fan of the show resurfacing in her mind. Though, it seemed the mention of the television show didn't do much for brightening up his demeanor.

"Alright," he sighed, readying himself to stand from his seat at the table, "Could I walk y'out, then? I don't want y'to wait alone for a taxi."

A smile blossomed on (Y/N)'s features. Any time with him, no matter how short, was going to earn an automatic and bright agreement from her.

She nodded her head with a quiet sure, escaping her lips. By the time they were both standing, (Y/N) telling the remaining group at the table that she was leaving for the night and that she appreciated getting to work with them and how nice it was to meet everyone, Harry was barely informing anyone of his whereabouts. Only a half-hearted be right back! was called over his shoulder as he followed (Y/N) out.

"So, where to next?" (Y/N) asked as they stepped into the night air of New York, the neon lights around them shining brighter than the moon.

"Uhm," Harry hummed, reaching up to run his fingers over the side of his jaw, "Milwaukee, I think."

"Oh," (Y/N) sounded, requesting an Uber on her phone before tucking her arms around her middle, "Then back here again, right? Only get a couple weeks away at a time before you come crawling back."

Harry let out a laugh, shaking his head, "I do have another show here but not until—"

"Oh, my god," (Y/N) laughed, the sound loud in the middle of the night though it had nothing on the traffic bustling just a few blocks away, "I wasn't even being serious. You really have another show here?"

"It was a last minute addition!" Harry defended, leaning against the brick of the building though his body never shifted away from her, "I didn't even know until a couple of weeks ago."

"That's what they all say," (Y/N) countered airily, turning her nose up as if she knew something he didn't.

"And y'call me annoying," he teased, nudging his foot against hers in a gentle prod.

A beat of silence passed, (Y/N) aware of the fact that her Uber was only five minutes away and then that would be the end of the Cinderella magic that allowed her to become so close to Harry over the last few days. She let out a sigh at the thought.

Four minutes, now.

"I really liked working with you, you know," Harry said, his voice a quiet rumble between them. He gazed at her through his lashes when she flicked her own eyes in his direction. "'M touring for the rest of the month, but after that—uh—I... I would really like to see y'again."

Time could have stopped in that moment for all that (Y/N) was aware. He wasn't saying what she thought he was saying, right?

(Y/N) tried her best to rein herself in, tugging back on the frantic butterflies that threatened to invade her stomach and crowd her lungs. "Of course," she started, words stilted, "Whenever you need a makeup artist or any advice, just let me know and I'll be there."

Harry's lips curled into a crooked smile at her words, dimple deep in his cheek. "I'll definitely be doing that," Harry murmured, amusement tinting his tone, "But, I was really hoping I could see you, again. Without having to sit in your chair and have things glued to m'face, anyway."

Those butterflies that were verging on rabid were too much for (Y/N) to contain any longer. He was to see her again, outside of the professional relationship they had forged as he sat in her makeup chair. He wanted what they had found on the couch of his dressing room and in the chairs they vacated in the restaurant behind them. He wanted what was encased between them the second he jumped off stage tonight and wrapped her in his arms.

Two minutes, now.

"I'd like that, too," (Y/N) peeped, using her shaky hands to pull up her contact book on her personal phone. "I know you already have my work number, but—um—if you want, this is my personal phone. You could put your number in, or—um—we could keep talking through my wor—"

Harry cut her off with a soft laugh, reaching his hand out for her offered device. "This is alright, don't worry."

(Y/N) watched as he typed away at her phone, his number subsequently being added to her contact list.

One minute.

Giving her phone back, Harry didn't hesitate before pushing off of the bricks and bringing her into a hug. (Y/N) reacted in affected movements, her brain struggling to keep up with the amount that's happened in the last five minutes. She settled with her arms wrapped around his middle, cheek against his chest, while Harry's had landed around the width of her shoulders, his own head dipping to rest in her neck.

"Text me when you're back at the hotel safe, yeah?" he whispered to her, arms tightening a minute amount around her form.

"Yeah, okay," she smiled, the lovestruck giggle she had tamped down before now making its way out against his chest, "I will."

It was the sound of a car coming up to the curb, idling only a few feet away that had Harry peeling himself from her form. (Y/N) allowed herself the privilege of his body under her hands as her touch lingered around his waist, she looked up to find him already smiling at her.

"C'mon," he said, voice quiet as he placed his hand on the small of her back.

(Y/N) happily followed after him as he ducked down to talk to the Uber driver as if he wasn't Harry Styles out in the middle of the city after a sold out show at Madison Square Garden. He verified the name of the driver, double checking all of the information for (Y/N) before he finally tugged her along.

Opening the back passenger door for her, Harry molded another soft smile onto his features. "Goodnight, (Y/N)."

With a neon blue sign radiating from behind him, (Y/N) saw remnants of the god that took his time on stage and shared with the world what a rockstar looked like in the modern age. But, more than anything else, she saw the man she had met in her makeup chair that made her heart race without all of the swagger that he turned on for his fans.

She saw Harry.

"Goodnight, H."

As her Uber started off towards the hotel, (Y/N) pulled up the newly added contact to her phone.

Harry Styles:)

God, she couldn't wait to see him again.

—————

Pulling up to the studio, (Y/N) felt an excitement rattling in her bones she hadn't felt in months.

She and Harry had been keeping loose contact since the final night of Harryween, messages incoming around Harry's busy schedule. Though the initial plan had been to meet up once he was finished with tour—his last show being in New York which (Y/N) made a point to tease him over—the hectic agenda of a rockstar proved too much for Harry to make concrete plans around. Though (Y/N) had been disappointed having to push off seeing him again so many times, the fact that he was trying and had kept the possibility of meeting up again alive, was enough for her to be happy.

But that contentedness had nothing on the moment when a text came through from Harry asking if she would be free to help him on set at a photoshoot for a magazine he was booked to be on the cover of. He had declined the makeup artist the magazine had offered, telling them that he knew someone in the area he really wanted to work with again. It wasn't exactly the date she had imagined they would go on when they finally had a chance to see each other, but if this was the best way for him to commit to plans with her, aside from planning out a dinner three months from now when his schedule was set to clear a little more, she wasn't going to turn it down.

That was how she found herself at a studio she had been to only a handful of times, readying herself for what Harry described to be an editorial photoshoot to go along with the roll out of a couple of upcoming projects he was the face of. They had discussed the pair of looks he was wanting to showcase, her kit stocked full of the items he had requested along with the book he had been telling her he wanted to borrow from her whenever he had the chance.

Walking in, she joined the rest of the crew that was readying for the arrival of Harry Styles, a PA instructing her to a corner of the set where a pair of vanities were set up for her to take over. She saw the familiar face of Harry Lambert working away at what was the makeshift wardrobe department by the single bathroom that was sure to act as Harry's changing room. After shooting Mr. Lambert a small wave when she caught his eye, she took stock of the room around her as she unpacked her kit.

A large white sheet was draped along the center of the back wall, the beginning bones of the backdrop for the photoshoot. Wardrobe was stocked full of different outfits hung on the limited rack space, polaroids of different looks taped to the back wall for Mr. Lambert to reference as they picked through the ensembles for the photos. PA's and other crew ran around the space with props, clothes, camera equipment and more as they built the set to be ready for Harry Styles, the man of the next few hours until The Shot was secured for the cover and the main spread that was going to be all about him was filled with an archive of photographs.

(Y/N) couldn't help her heart from racing as she realized just how soon she was finally going to get a chance to see Harry again.

She had kept up with his tour after Halloween, noting the way his charisma and showmanship never waned even in the last few concerts of the tour. Even when his new brand was being presented to the world, he never once faltered or seemed overwhelmed at his shows, seemingly glowing with all the praise being offered towards the Pleasing products she had heard rumors about since the beginning of last year. Her admiration for him as a performer only grew.

Seeing the photos of him, chest often times bared with curls framing his face and softening his features as he sang love songs and created an atmosphere full of self-love and acceptance definitely didn't hurt either. The messages she would receive in the middle of the night when she knew he was coming off stage or early in the morning on what she assumed was a day off of his, allowed her heart to keep simmering for him even in his absence.

With her back turned towards the set, (Y/N) pulled out the loose and gelled glitters she brought along, a few options of each for Harry to pick through for the shoot. Her concentration was placed on a mix of iridescent, star-shaped glitters she had mapped out could be tapped underneath Harry's eyes if he picked them, when she heard Mr. Lambert's voice ring out through the studio.

"Sue!"

A deep, familiar voice she'd only heard in videos for the last months answered back, "Susan!"

Whipping her head around, (Y/N) found Harry trailing in through the maze of PAs and set designers with greetings falling from his lips to every individual that had a moment to speak to him. He was bright spot amidst all the bustle going on around him, a sunny yellow, crocheted hat on the top of his head to crown him the sunflower king of the day. The same baby tee he had been wearing the day she helped him dress up as Dorothy adorned his torso, the smiley face on his chest a beacon. Artfully faded and ripped jeans fell over his legs before they made way for a well-loved pair of Vans he wore almost everywhere according to pap pictures and fan sightings, pink shoelaces bright against the plain white (or brown at this point) canvas. Once he made it to wardrobe, Harry wrapped his friend in a warm hug, his grin wide.

He was a lot earlier than she would expect the talent of a photoshoot to be. Maybe it was her years working in the L.A. beauty scene, but (Y/N) was much more used to these important people showing up just in time to get dressed and in makeup before being hurried to set, never this early and this welcoming to strangers on set. But, the glimpses that she got into Harry's demeanor over that Halloween weekend showed her that she shouldn't be all that surprised anyway. He was never anything less than extremely kind and sweet to everyone he met, even during interactions that lasted less than a handful of seconds.

Of course, he would be the one to show up over an hour early to his call time. Of course, he would be the one to say hello to the flustered PA who's kindness and willingness to work was being taken advantage of by the photographer. Of course, he would be the one who was different.

Unable to keep her lips from curling into a smile, (Y/N) only allowed her eyes to linger over the Harrys for a second longer before turning back to her station. He would come to her when he was ready, that's what she told herself, and being caught staring at him wasn't going to be the most welcoming introduction after months of not seeing one another.

It was only when she tugged out the face charts she made up for him, that there was a shift behind her. Something about the air changed the only way it does when someone with a presence approached. (Y/N) knew exactly who it was.

"Hey, you."

A bright smile made its way onto her face, (Y/N) spinning on her toes to see the owner of the greeting voice.

"Harry!" she beamed, finding him standing behind her with his curls peeking out from underneath his sunflower stitched hat. The wide grin she had spotted from across the room was now directed at her, dimples deep in his cheeks with the white of his teeth bright against his California tan.

"How are you?" he asked, his voice a quiet rumble between them. He looked her over with the familiar warmth of his gaze, eyes taking in the full of her form as he opened his arms in invitation to her.

"I'm good," she sighed, stepping into his arms with a contented smile on her face as her cheek met his chest, "How are you? It's been so long."

"It has been, yeah," he mumbled into her shoulder, his arms tight around the width of her body, "'M good, 'm really good. Thank y'for coming."

(Y/N) pulled back just far enough to look up at his face, his hat tamping down his curls to frame the height of his cheekbones with the brim creating something of a shade of privacy for just a moment. "Of course," she whispered, "I've been really excited to see you again."

The smile that bloomed across Harry's lips was something (Y/N) had never seen in any photos or read about in any profiles on him. "Me too."

For a moment (Y/N) forgot about the chaos running around them, the noise of the impending shoot becoming nothing more than a dull murmur in the peripheral of her mind. This moment alone was well worth the wait since New York.

Though she could have stayed in his arms for the duration of the shoot, Harry being one of the best huggers she'd ever met, she knew that probably wasn't the most professional look while being on the job. So, it was her who drew away first, her shoes scuffing the floor as she shuffled back towards the vanity.

"You're early," she said, resisting the urge to busy her fingers with the glitter-gel pot at her left.

"Am I?" Harry asked with a lilt to his tone, as if he'd heard that statement a hundred times before.

"I didn't think your call time was for another hour," (Y/N) explained, her eyes following him as he moved to lean against the vanity beside her, "I was just surprised to see you here already, that's all."

The intense eye contact she'd forgotten in his absence made it's debut for the day, the green of his eyes something she wasn't able to forget even if she'd tried. Harry shrugged at her, his gaze never leaving her own, "I was excited about this one, what can I say?"

Maybe she was reading a little too far into it, getting too excited to be back in the presence of someone she harbored a puppy's crush on, but she couldn't help but feel like he was telling her that she was a part of why he was excited.

"Nothing wrong with that," she smiled, "What's all this for anyway? Something special coming soon?"

At that, Harry's grin grew sly and crooked, his eyes finally falling from her own to catch sight of his overworked Vans. "'M not allowed to say," he mumbled, an apologetic roundedness to his features, "'S something new I've been excited about, yeah, but 'm not supposed to say anything else about it until the article comes out. I've already been in trouble a handful of times with my manager because I've been a bad secret keeper about this one, can't do it again."

"Not even a little hint?" (Y/N) pried, feeling a sense of deja-vu. It seemed he struggled to keep secrets like this, which only endeared him further to her. Besides, she was only teasing as she hadn't wanted him to get in trouble or anything... but it would be kind of fun to be in on a big Harry Styles reveal.

Harry feigned thought, puckering his lips to the side as he seemingly rolled the idea around his head. "Maybe," he settled on, ducking his chin to offer his serious proposal, "If y'make me really pretty for today's shoot, I might give y'a hint. Maybe."

Letting out a hum of thought to play along with his game, (Y/N) faux-considered his offer. "I'll see what I can do," she finished, a smile creeping on her features when she noticed the familiar red painted on Harry's nails.

Though her own were a bright shade of white now, that candy apple red brought back a slew of giddy memories.

It was then that Harry caught sight of the various glittered set out on her vanity, the closest one with a myriad of stars and moons mixed in being the one that held his attention. "What's this for?" he asked, reaching for the jar like a curious puppy with a bone.

"Well," (Y/N) twisted in her spot, gesturing for Harry to take a seat in her chair, "I had a few ideas if you wanted to look at the charts I brought..."

—————

(Y/N) watched as Harry, now with his hair mussed to perfection with the curls creating the perfect spirals and waves he was known for, dressed to the nines in a lemon yellow crop top and a pair trousers made of black mesh with bright butterflies embroidered over where it mattered most, posed in front of the camera. His hands were decked out in his iconic range of rings, the most garish of his collection making their presence known. A jade beaded necklace clung close to his throat, working against the bright yellow of his top, matching the faux-earrings cuffed around his ears. Behind him, the white sheet that made up the background had been transformed into something of a fantastical dreamland; faux plants and shrubbery was formed around him though it was clear Harry was the star and the fluttering butterfly figurines were there for nothing other to enhance the world he was to pull them into.

His makeup was left minimal for the first round of shots, nothing much farther than glowy skin prep (alá the Pleasing illuminating serum (Y/N) had been way too excited about adding to both her professional and private collections) and a brush through his brows and curl to his lashes. Harry was very excited with the various face charts she showed him, the glitter being the main focal point he was giddy over, but told her the vision for a few of the shots were for his skin to be clean and easy while the clothing they had picked would steal the show.

He was a natural, that much she could tell from the last few sets of photographs. While he definitely made the stage his home, modeling and being in front of a camera like this was something she thought might be a vacation home for him—something different to performing, but fulfilling in its own way. The photographer didn't offer much more than for Harry to look one way or another, change his footing, or ask for help from hair or makeup (she really was only needed when another coat of glossy lip treatment was to be applied to his mouth). The rest was up to the man in front of the camera as he moved with a goofy smile in between takes before turning on the serious charm when needed.

After she had finished what turned out to be only a ten minute makeup application (after just over an hour of them talking as Harry sat in her chair), Harry had requested she stick with him as he had his hair fixed. Though he was more than happy to chat with her, offering insights to what he did after tour finished (other than finishing the book he borrowed from her, which he told her he wasn't super in love with the alternating plot lines but he thought the writing was very beautiful) and what he was planning next (still no hints about this new project, though (Y/N) tried), he seemed much more inclined to ask about her. Every conversation was turned around into a question for her, what she thought about this film that had been rumored around L.A. to have begun private castings for, what her holidays had been like, and what she planned on doing after this (a very boring answer she had offered, but Harry didn't seem particularly disappointed by it).

He'd tugged her along for everything, keeping her close when he was trying to figure out what the first look of the day should be, spilling funny faces to her when he didn't think the hairdresser was looking, and incrementally asking her what she thought of specific stylistic choices despite Mr. Lambert being right there. Nonetheless, she felt honored to be glued his side, his name falling from her lips when he wanted attention.

That's how she was roped into following after him when an outfit change was called for, the photographer asking for the quick set change in the mean time. As an arsenal of flowery fake plants with mossy additions and dreamy light filters were being rushed to the set, Harry was corralled off to wardrobe, a look over his shoulder towards (Y/N) telling her that she was meant to come along.

"Is it time for the glitter yet?" she called as he disappeared into the bathroom with a garment bag, the door cracked just enough to hear her words.

Popping his head out of the doorway, (Y/N) was greeted with a heavenly smile and a hint of his bare shoulder, tattoos included. "It is," he decided, the beam of his smile almost matching hers.

"Flowers?" Her question referred to the pot he seemed particularly drawn to, a mix of pink and purple, cosmetic grade, flower-shaped glitters distributed among finely milled iridescent and green sparkles.

The dimples in Harry's cheeks were deep and calling for someone to poke at the depth.

"Flowers."

—————

(Y/N) had never been more proud of her work than what she had done today, she decided as she packed up her kit.

She'd never been a part of anything like this shoot before, even taking the handful of editorial style gigs she'd worked on in the past into account. Not only were the changing concepts attention grabbing and something that would fit right into a dream. She could see the editing now, how the hazy lighting and filters that had accompanied much of the second half of shots were going to add to the magic that would happen in the photographer's dark room and make Harry the unofficial fae king he had been crowned.

But, her favorite part was how in love Harry was with the glittered look they had crafted.

After he changed into an outfit consisting of more tulle and silk than (Y/N) had seen in her life, all the fabrics dyed a sage green with faded bleached spots that held a tint of pink in the middle, it was her job to add the glitter they had agreed on and run by both Harry Lambert the creative director. The carefully placed fragments were dotted around his eyes—cuddled in the inner tear ducts, and stamped under his eyes before the fine sparkles were added in artful strokes that were dominating the internet and television at the moment. When she finished and he finally got a look in the mirror, his irises sparkled more than the glitter she dusted along his skin.

"I love it," he had told her, the words floating out on a breath.

That praise alone was what had her smiling brightly through the remainder of the shoot, through the small touchups she made between shots, and the elongated time she was taking to pack up her kit.

When the final shot had been taken, the photographer yelling out "This is the one, Harry! This is your cover!", Harry had been almost immediately hustled back to her chair with the help of PA's tasked to take down the set before the sunset. As (Y/N) did her job of removing the glitter from his face, plucking the flowers from around his eyes, she remembered the way he looked at her as she praised his work in front of the camera and how amazing she was sure the whole thing was going to turn out. After throwing the final makeup wipe away, this one streaked with the product she had threaded through his brows and the finest of glitter that shone green in the light, Harry stopped her with a gentle hand on her leg. His touch was familiar.

"Wait for me, yeah? I need to say bye to a few people, but I want to talk to y'before y'leave."

She hadn't hesitated before saying yes, smile tugging at her glossed lips.

For the last half hour, (Y/N) distracted herself with helping other's tear down their stations before taking her time to clean up her own area before some unfortunate assistant would be tasked with breaking down the vanity table to be carted away for whoever was set to use this place next. At some point during these distractions, she heard he sound of Harry's voice pattering through the chaos. He was doing just what he'd said when he asked her to wait: thanking and saying goodbye to almost everyone on the crew. He even stopped and helped Mr. Lambert pack away his things, taking some of the heavier totes and crates off of Claudia's hands with a muttering of I'll take that, don't worry.

"Y'waited."

Now it was her turn to have that attention.

His voice held an edge of wonder, like he wasn't sure she was going to really follow up with her promise of sticking around for him. (Y/N) looked at him over her shoulder, hands busy righting the stack of face charts she brought along, a bright smile on her face. He was back in his street clothes, the bucket hat just barely containing the perfectly coiffed curls framing his face. (Y/N) could only spot one single remaining fleck of glitter, just to the right of his eye as if it were nothing more than a beauty mark.

"Of course, I did," she said, raising her brows, "Did you do everything you needed to?"

"Almost," he answered, the word quiet and slow.

It was then that he jumped in, helping to put away the final remaining products that she'd left laid out on her table. Just as she was going to slip the strap of her kit over her shoulder, Harry's gentle hand stopped her, red painted nails standing out starkly against the white blouse draped over her torso.

"I'll take that for you, yeah?"

(Y/N) dazed response came in the form of a quiet, "Yeah, okay."

Harry's smile was crooked on his features as he walked out with her, finally goodbyes called out over his shoulder to which the PA's and helpers shouted out their own send offs to "Mr. Styles." He only let out a small laugh at their reactions.

Entering the parking lot, the sun was low in the sky but hadn't yet touched the horizon. The pavement was bathed in orange tones, ranging from sherbert pink and bright coral to a blazing orange that was half the sun's fault, and half thanks to the smog that clouded L.A.. All that was missing was flakes of gold to rain from the sky like snow. Golden hour, she recognized.

When she noticed Harry give her a questioning glance, brows raised, she pointed across the lot. "I'm over there," she said, happy to have him walk her all the way out. That's what she got for coming at her actual call time, and not twenty minutes earlier to get a closer spot.

Harry's face twisted into a grin at her words. "We're neighbors, then. I parked right beside you."

"Really?" she asked, her voice titling at the end in curiosity, "I would have thought you'd pick a spot closer. You're the star and everything, it'd be well deserved."

Harry shrugged, shaking his head as the brim of his hat flounced at the motion. "I don't like to take those spots since 'm probably the only person that jus' has to bring themselves. I have nothing to carry back and forth like everyone else."

Of course, he thought like that. Because, as she realized earlier, Harry was different.

"This is you, I'm assuming?" (Y/N) asked once they made it to the pair of slots towards the edge of the lot. She couldn't hide how impressed she was from leaking into her tone when she caught sight of the bright yellow, vintage, convertible parked beside her Honda she couldn't even remember the year of.

He shrugged, though his pleased smile was a little too hard to hide. "I like to take it out when the weather's nice."

"I don't blame you," she laughed, unlocking her car. She led Harry to her passenger seat, the side closest to his own car, opening the door for him to store her kit for the drive home. Once he was cleared and out of the way, (Y/N) moved to close the door behind him, a smile on her lips though it was a bit bittersweet now. From her spot edging closer to his car, she saw him backlit with the help of the golden sun acting like the halo that should have been placed on his head during the shoot. Though she decided she'd never seen anything more breathtaking in that moment, she sunk at the fact she didn't know when she would get to see him again. If at all.

"Wel—"

"Than—"

(Y/N) cut herself off at the same moment Harry had, an apology tumbling from her lips that only ended up crashing into Harry's once again. With a laugh, she waved her hands between them as she shook her head. "You first," she determined.

"I—uh—," he started, a breathy laugh interrupting his words as he passed his knuckle under the tip of his nose, "I was jus' going to say that I really like working with you, (Y/N). I don't... We waited too long to see each other again, I think."

When his gazed matched her own, (Y/N) couldn't stop the flutter that tugged at her heart. Here they were again, making plans that she was going to yearn over for the next months. She wouldn't have it any other way. Harry was worth the wait.

"Me too," she smiled, twisting her fingers into a heap, "I really look forward to these kinds of projects with you. We have a lot of fun, I feel like. But, I understand you're busy and don't always have the say in bringing me along, so I understand why we don't see each other more often."

Harry shook his head, making the distracted movement of trying to run his hand through his hair despite the hat on his head. He let out a laugh that melted into (Y/N)'s when his fingers became entangled in the crocheted fabric, opting to just pull the piece off and tuck it in his back pocket.

"'M busy, yeah," he said, a set appearing in his jaw when he looked at her through the frame of his lashes, "But I don't—'M not too busy for you."

(Y/N) heart appeared in her throat in that moment, the beats of the chambers felt against he delicate skin of her neck with her blood rushing past her ears in a way that drowned out everything but Harry.

"If 's alright with you," Harry continued, his hands coming to tug on the cropped hem of his top, "I want to see y'outside of work things, too. I think it might be fun seeing y'without glitter ending up on m'face."

A giddy smile took (Y/N)'s features, something of a lovestruck giggle came out at his joke. "That's alright with me," she settled on, "Definitely." Her smiled bright before it was directed at the pavement under their feet. She hoped the break in eye contact would allow for her brain to click back into place, though she knew that was a long-shot when she knew Harry Styles was right there and had effectively just asked her on a date.

"Yeah?" he smiled, his voice floating out on a breathless sigh.

(Y/N) couldn't find it in herself to manage any other kind of response other than her smile widening on her features as she nodded her head. "Yeah." How she was going to be able to drive home through L.A. traffic with these clouds stuffed in her head, she didn't know. "I'll text you later then, right? We can plan something."

Though he nodded his head, Harry didn't look ready to leave. She was proven right when he took a careful step in her direction. "There was one more thing I wanted to do before I left today, if that's alright with you," his tone was quiet between them, though the set of his features solidified into something serious.

"Okay," was her lame response.

With (Y/N)'s back now against the yellow convertible that suddenly looked too small for someone of his height, especially with the way he seemed to grow taller with each careful step he took closer to her. The careful hands she had felt just barely grazing her own when passing off products or on the two occasions he had settled on his palm on her thigh when she was working on him, returned to catch on the curve of her waist. His touch was just barely more than a ghost's graze, a light patch of warmth blooming under his palm.

"I feel like I should've done this back in New York," he mumbled, eyes trained on her features, memorizing every twitch and tic of her muscles. "Tell me if y'don't want this, and I'll stop. I'll wait for you."

If he was asking what she thought he was asking...

With his gentle grip on her waist, Harry lent down, dipping his head to be level with her own. A second passed, a moment for (Y/N) to stop him if she didn't want this, before her mind had all but vanished at the feel of Harry's lips against her own.

The clouds she had been worried would alter her driving skills didn't stand a change against he warm sunlight that poured out of Harry at the tender contact. They evaporated in a moment, leaving her clear minded, nothing else to concentrate on but the feel of his kiss.

(Y/N)'s restless hands moved to settled on the center of Harry's chest, something she had wanted to do since she saw him in his Wizard of Oz costume. The same chest that stretched the fabric of the outfit was now under her hand, the faint thudding of his heart underneath the layer of muscle giving away just how giddy he was for this moment like her.

Drawing away for just a second only to return with another innocent kiss to her lips, (Y/N) smiled at the contact. This felt like the end to a first date. Nothing was implied with their kissing, nothing other than the fact they liked each other with a promise of a next time slipped in there. Harry offered her one more soft-lipped kiss before effectively pulling away.

This time it was (Y/N) that lent up to her tip-toes, pressing a kiss to his cheek.

The grin on his face was something she wished people made face charts of. His curls were wild and unruly now that they were freed from the confines of his hat, the gel unable to hold any longer as the strands draped around his face in a way that acted as if they could curtain this moment and create a sliver of privacy.

(Y/N) even swore there was a blush on his cheeks, natural and rose-hued across his skin.

Taking a shuffled step back, the space causing reluctant hands to fall to their sides, Harry shook his head with dimples deep in his cheeks. "I've got to go to a meeting tonight over dinner, but could I call y'after? We can talk about... next time."

The mention of the next time could have knocked (Y/N) off her feet—and almost did, with the way she stumbled a bit as she moved to get out of the way of Harry's car. He only let out an endeared laugh around a bid to be careful at her stuttering feet, making (Y/N) feel a little less embarrassed.

"Yeah, yeah," she sighed, carefully rounding the front of her car though she couldn't find it in her to pull her eyes from him, "Call me whenever, I'll pick up."

He waited for her to pull open the driver's side door before speaking again. "Bye, love. Get home safe."

(Y/N) all but melted into her front seat at the sound of the endearment wrapped in his voice. "Bye, Harry."

The drive home was just as traffic filled as (Y/N) expected but there was nothing that could wipe the smile off her face.

Next time, he had said.

Now, she had to figure out how to tell Vera without getting ear-splitting screams of joy in response.

—————

ahhhhh!!! this is like the perfect combination of all my love for makeup and for harry jsut coming together and I just loved this idea so much like getting to put all the pretty stuff on his face:( I really hope everyone liked this and thank u so much for reading! sorry for any mistakes and if theres any ideas or requests you have of your own please send them in!

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ateezmakemeweep · 4 years ago

Text

playing with fire (part 1)

word count: 23k

fluff, smut (warning: age gap, infidelity, roommate’s father)

(series masterlist)

“is there any other way you could pay?” the woman behind the desk asked, stout and soft spoken with sympathy in her eyes.

she probably has to have this conversation with students a lot, tell them that their tuition payment didn’t go through or that they’re not eligible for government support.

or that the athletics department needed more scholarship money, successfully rendering you, one of the many photography majors on campus, unable to pay for your last semester of college.

“a loan of some sort or another scholarship, maybe?” she tried to help, “i could send over an e-mail of ones you might be eligible for.”

you swallow the lump forming in your throat, attempting to calm all the anxiety and stress violently making its way through your body.

“y-yes, that would be great, thank you,” you barely manage to get out, hoping and praying to some unknown force above that you don’t burst into tears.

you were nearing the end of the fall semester, the last fall semester you ever anticipated of having, when you found out just last week that you were no longer eligible for your scholarship.

in a short, curt e-mail explaining that, while you kept up your gpa and never strayed from the requirements, they’ve maxed out their amount of funding and are looking to use that money elsewhere.

“can they do that!?” your best friend and roommate of four years yelps, gucci sunglasses atop her head as she stomps around your shared, off-campus apartment.

“they can’t seriously do that! you’ve been a straight a student since you started and now they wanna take it away?! before your last semester of senior year?!”

“eunbi, it’s not ideal but i’ve already come to terms with it,” you explain gently, leaving out the part where you did, in fact, have a break down right outside the bursar office only an hour ago. “i’ll just save up money and come back in the fall to finish.”

“that’s so not right or fair though!” she whines, something about the concept of not getting what she wants unfamiliar to your roommate.

you first met park eunbi during freshmen move in day, your two raggedy luggages and beat up backpacks an embarrassing contrast to the multiple louis vuitton travel bags she lunged in.

you were intimidated for all of three seconds, before she looked at you with a smile and threw her arms around you like a long lost best friend.

it was obvious she came from money, the way she spoke and carried herself so confidently before her parents came in and introduced themselves.

they were both gorgeous and tall and looked far too young to have an 18-year-old daughter, covered in fancy jewelry and expensive looking clothing.

her dad, who introduced himself as mr. park seonghwa, didn’t seem to bat an eye at your more humble appearance. he reminded you a lot of eunbi, honest and genuine in the way he was kind and nonjudgemental.

mrs. park seemed nice enough, too, though you could see the judgement behind her pretty eyes.

the way she sneered at your bags and looked down at your hands, so different from her and her daughter’s not covered in diamond bracelets or acrylic nails.

“did we just miss your parents?” she asked, her voice just as pretty and rich sounding as she appeared; you bet if she laughed, she’d had have that melodic, care-free laugh all rich women seem to have.

“oh, uh, yeah, i’m sorry,” you apologized, lying through your teeth with a shy smile and averting gaze - you had to move in by yourself, the same way you traveled here all alone with no one to send you off.

“it’s okay, we just thought it’d be nice to meet them,” eunbi’s father interjects, the smile on his handsome face causing your stomach to swoop - how is he a dad?

“we were gonna take eunbi to an early dinner before we left. do you wanna join us?”

“oh no, it’s okay, i’d hate to intru-”

“no, you’re coming, c’mon!” your new roommate whined, grabbing your hand and pulling you toward the door. “we’ll be able to get a lot of dessert out of them. probably the whole menu if we wanted.”

and you saw that over the years, eunbi knew she could, in fact, get whatever she wanted from her parents. they had the money and the means and the fondness in their hearts for their only daughter.

but it never seemed to get to your friend.

she was always kind and thoughtful of others and never said or did anything to suggest she was just a brainless, spoiled rich kid.

even in your guy’s second year when she found out you were going to school on an academic scholarship, she didn’t care. she didn’t turn her nose up or think you were lesser than her for not having the funds; if anything, it only made her praise you more.

that you were smart and ambitious enough to work under the strict guidelines of a prestigious scholarship.

“i know it’s not fair,” you mumble, not wanting to cry or have another anxiety attack over this matter. “but it is what it is. i’ll figure it out.”

she lets out a dejected, defeated sigh so uncharacteristic of the girl, plopping down on her pink, fluffy bed and bringing you down with her.

“we’ll sell feet pics over winter break,” she concludes after a few minutes of silence, wrapping her arm around yours and curling her body into yours. “you know how much money we can get from that? and we have pretty feet,” she says, sticking her leg up and wiggling her red, painted toes.

there’s a little less tightness in your chest and a little heaviness lifted in your stomach as you let out a giggle, looking over at your best friend who truly got you through the last four years of school.

you really don’t know how you’d still be functioning if it weren’t for her.

“you’re sick.”

“i’m serious,” she giggles out, flipping on her side and causing the bed to bounce under you. “you’re still good with coming tomorrow, right? i told my parents you were.”

she had invited you to her house for the winter break this year, the girl not wanting you to spend a month alone in the apartment.

you’ve shared with her how strained your relationship with your parents has been, really, since birth. never seeing eye to eye to them and feeling as if they never had your best interests at heart.

when most kids get full ride scholarships, their parents are immensely proud. bragging about how smart they are and telling them how proud they were.

but your parents were the opposite.

they didn’t want you to up and leave them to pursue an education. they thought you were gonna stay with them forever, not go to college like them and help run the family business back home in your tiny little hometown.

it was your dream to go to college and get a degree, though, so that’s exactly what you did for yourself; but they saw it as a giant fuck you.

saw it as you thinking you were better than them and basically told you to never come back if you thought you were so much smarter and better off without them.

so you’d spent every winter or summer vacation in the dorms, this year finally being the time you accepted eunbi’s invitation to stay over - reluctantly.

“i packed all my stuff, yeah,” you mumble, hands twisted into one another nervously. “but... are you sure they’re okay with it? i don’t wanna intrude or be there if i’m not wanted.”

“y/n, please,” she whines, “my mom may be a raging bitch but you know i make the rules in that house.”

“that’s not what i meant,” you mutter immediately, looking to the girl with a small frown on your lips.

although it was no secret eunbi’s mom didn’t ever seem too fond of you, always sneering at your off-brand items or questioning the logistics of why exactly you needed a scholarship to afford college, you always tried to remain polite.

smile at her and greet her happily even though there was always a thick, palpable tension between you two.

“oh but it is,” she chuckles out, the girl far too aware of what a materialistic snob her mother is. “it’s fine, i know she’s a bitch. my dad’s just coming tomorrow anyway. i told him to bring one of the bigger cars so we can lay out in the back.”

you have to bite back a snarky comment about the fact there are multiple cars in question, though the look in your eye certainly gives it away. she can only giggle and shrug her shoulders, flopping onto her back as she tells you about how excited she is to be reunited with her boyfriend.

eunbi and jiwoon have been dating since their second year of high school, going to colleges only an hour away from each other; he was just as handsome as he was kind and good to her, leaving you with no other option but to love and support the both of them.

and you try to listen to her rambling that ensues, you really do, but your mind is swirling with some slight anxiety about staying with her family for a month.

you don’t wanna make her mom even more irritated, deal with the side eyes and passive aggressive comments and overall feeling of just not being wanted.

you don’t want eunbi to feel obligated to be with you 24/7, act as a cock block to her and her boyfriend who haven’t seen each other in almost six weeks.

and maybe, you don’t want your tiny, small, miniscule crush on mr. park to make you feel any more awkward than it does, wondering how a married man who has a daughter in college is still so handsome and alluring.

it also doesn’t help that he’s just so incredibly kind, always making everyone feel so comfortable and welcomed, it’d be hard not to just develop a little, secret crush on him.

“eunbi, who is that sexy ass man who just dropped you off?” one of your suite mates asks your roommate, everyone gathering back in front of the dorm building after winter break.

it was sophomore year and you spent a month in the quiet, almost eerie college dorms alone (apart from the ra down the hall). you were grateful for everyone to return, no matter how loud or catty things were about to become.

“yeah, for real. is that your new boyfriend? he’s hotter than the last one and i didn’t even think that was possible.”

“uhhh.. no,” eunbi says, shooting the crowd of girls with lustful eyes and curious glances a look of distaste. “that’s my dad.”

and that’s when a chorus of disbelief and inappropriate comments erupted from the group of college girls.

asking how a dad could look like that while hoping and praying he’s single.

inquiring about just how much her dad’s on campus and when’s the next time he’s gonna pick her up.

about how he’s definitely hotter than her boyfriend, with a more mature and sophisticated look than these college boys.

“are they fucking serious! like how disgusting? he’s my literal father!” eunbi rages once in the dorm room, sharing a few curse words and vulgar phrases at the girl’s before stomping away from them.

“and for them to say that shit in front of me? did they think i want to hear that?”

“i know, that was so sick,” you agree, because even though you, too, think he’s attractive, it’s not something you would ever verbalize to your friend.

“like... i know he’s younger than most dads, my parents had me when they were teenagers, but shit! how sick,” she rants, throwing down her heavy designer bags and flopping on her bed.

you can tell by the look on her face how much it truly bothers her, everyone always noticing her dad and making comments like that. she handles it well, she’s always able to handle herself well, but it doesn’t take away from the fact that it’s something that worries her.

people getting close to her to get to her dad, even if it was teachers or other moms in elementary school or her friends when she got to college.

it’s one of the many reasons you would never give away your little crush on him - because it’s not only inappropriate and uncomfortable for her to know but there’s also no need to tell her.

because it’s not like it would go anywhere.

he’s a married man and your roommate’s father, a twisted, dark, forbidden fantasy that will stay in the walls of your head and never see the light of day - no matter how thrilling and fulfilling being with him would be.

“eunbi, your dad’s gonna be here soon,” you yell into your roommate’s doorway, met with the sound of her groaned “five more minutes!” that you’ve been hearing for the past twenty.

she was on facetime with jiwoon when you went to bed around one, briefly waking to the sound of her girlish screams or high-pitched giggles three hours later; you wouldn’t be surprised if she only went to bed a few hours ago.

“you said five more minutes thirty minutes ago,” you say, stomping your way over before smacking her over the head with a pillow. she lets out a loud sigh before swatting you away, your surprisingly fast reflexes grabbing her wrist.

she peeks one eye open as a smirk covers her morning face, looking from you all dressed up and ready in your pink pleated skirt and white thigh high stockings, down to her wrist in your hold.

“that was kinda hot. and you look good. i don’t know how to act right now.”

“shut up and get your ass out of bed,” you demand, biting back a smile as you storm out of her room.

you’d been pacing around the apartment ever since you woke up at seven a.m., more and more unsettled about staying over her house as the time drew closer.

you checked to make sure you had enough clothes and chargers and skincare products for nearly an hour, finally settling the same purple suitcase you moved in with freshmen year near the door.

you hope mrs. park doesn’t notice, remembering the way she sneered at the wonky zipper and slightly stained bottom.

you also hope you can keep yourself in check, not get too nervous or flustered by eunbi’s exorbitant wealth or a new setting you don’t feel welcomed in or her hot ass father whose bones you wanna jump.

the knock at the door completely sobers you, jumping in your spot just in time to see eunbi fly across the living room to get to the door. there’s a big, happy smile on her face, ripping open the door and greeting her father in typical eunbi fashion.

“are those for me?” she asks, snatching the red box from his hands.

excitement bubbles inside the girl as she unveils twelve chocolate covered strawberries, a speciality at one of the local dessert shops just a few miles from her home.

“you shouldn’t have, dad, really. i’m much too tired to appreciate this.”

the man can only look at his daughter with a look of disdain and affection, waking up to an extremely passive aggressive text that she’d really appreciate an early morning treat from her favorite place ever and that it’d really inspire her to be ready.

but as he can currently see, given the state of her hair and pajamas pants, it didn’t at all act as a motivator.

“then maybe i should just-” but upon her father’s hand reaching out to grab the box of strawberries, the girl brings it to her body and runs away, yelling that her bags are packed and she’s just gonna wash her face.

he looks to you with a mock annoyed expression, your heart jumping in your chest as you send him a small, polite smile.

“how do you deal with her, y/n?” he asks, a smirk on his face rising as you let out a soft, slightly forced giggle - this man looks too good for his own good at ten o’clock in the morning.

“don’t talk shit about me!” she yelps before you can even think to say something, a smile lighting up his face again before he nods his head down the hall.

“i’ll bring down your girl’s bags,” he says, his tall, large frame coming toward you making your knees feel slightly wobbly.

you swear you see his eyes roam over you for the shortest of seconds, down to your shirt and exposed legs before back to your face, until he’s looking into your eyes questioningly.

totally not like someone who just checked out their daughter’s roommate - this is what you feared, your own delusionals and attraction making your crazy little brain see something that’s not there.

“her bedroom’s down that hall?”

you resist the urge to swallow nervously, begging yourself to snap out of it and remind yourself you have to deal with the man for a month. a month of his dark, piercing eyes and bright, white smile and skin so smooth and clear, it’s far too easy to forget he’s almost forty years old.

“yeah,” you barely manage to get out. “i-i can help and bring down mine.”

“no, it’s okay,” he insists, “help in getting eunbi ready. you know she’ll delay us thirty more minutes.”

you let out another strained chuckle as you nod your head, finally letting out the breath you’ve been holding when you hear his footsteps disappear down the hall and into her room.

as long as you distance yourself from him, not look him in the eye or let any sort of idea get in your head that an older, married man could want you back, this will be fine.

it’ll be a nice, calm, relaxed break actually full of interaction and socialization opposed to your usual lonely bubble of solitude.

eunbi’s not making that very easy though, when twenty minutes later, she’s opening the back door of her father’s black g-wagen and sprawling out on the black leather seats.

“where’s y/n supposed to go, eunbi?” seonghwa asked, the fatherly tone is his voice causing eunbi to let out a huff; the only time you see eunbi’s spoiled tendencies come out is around her father, the girl knowing he’ll do anything and everything for her.

and apparently, so will you.

sitting in the front seat of her car, next to her extremely hot father you’re trying to stay calm around, while she sleeps soundly in the backseat - if she didn’t invite to stay at her home, meals and bed and transportation free, you’d say she has to owe you.

“was she up all night talking to jiwoon?” mr. park asked, the past few moments of silence just as comforting as they were terrifying. it felt awkward to you, extremely tense and full of suspense, but you knew it was completely normal.

you bite down on your lip, looking back at eunbi sleeping soundly on the seat, even prepared with a fuzzy white blanket. you let out a soft giggle when you see her mouth open, the slightest bit of drool hanging from her mouth and threatening to spill on the dark leather.

“she might’ve been,” you mutter, a breathy laugh leaving her father that causes you to sneak a glance at him.

there’s not a hint of a wrinkle or imperfection on his glowing skin, black hair hanging in his face and red lips quirked into a content smile. that’s something you always noticed about him, despite his dark appearance and looming figure, he always appears to be happy.

smiles and laughs and never gives anyone without his same wealth a dirty glance - he treats everyone the same and that’s another reason you’ve taking a liking to him, not just because he’s the hottest man you’ve ever seen in your life.

“y/n?” he asks, your intrusive thoughts being ripped away at the sound of his voice calling your name.

your eyes move to his and he’s watching you in slight amusement, a rampant blush creeping up on your cheeks at the way you’ve been caught. you’re quick to look away, shake your head and let out an awkward chuckle and apology.

you miss the way his eyes roam your side profile, a delightful smirk and feeling in his chest blooming before he speaks again.

“how was your semester?”

“it was good,” you say, hands placed nervously in your lap. “a lot of work on top of an internship but it was good.”

“and you girls are almost done,” he hums lowly, one hand atop the steering wheel while his eyes focus on the highway in front of him. “eunbi’s been talking about a combined graduation party since the moment you guys met.”

you let out a small laugh as you remember eunbi’s plan since your second semester of freshmen year, ignoring the twinge of sadness in your stomach.

you could’ve never anticipated delaying your college career when you first received your scholarship, happy and proud and eternally grateful for the opportunity.

but you suppose you’re lucky enough to have gotten this far, and delaying one last semester is nothing compared to people who never get to go to college - but it still makes you feel upset.

you think you have the right to feel disappointed and sad, the lingering sick feeling in your stomach making you feel nauseous.

“is it okay if i open the window for a second?” you mumble to mr. park, the man looking over your face.

he presses down on the passenger window button immediately, your face met with cold air as relief floods through your body.

“are you okay? do you get car sick?” he asks, remembering how much eunbi used to get car sick (on the rare occasion she wasn’t passed out during a road trip).

“not usually,” you mumble, resting your head on the side of the door.

then again, i’m not usually freaking out about making tuition money or repressing my violent attraction to my roommate’s father.

seonghwa watches as you close your eyes for a few moment, allowing the cold, windy air to hit your face. he couldn’t help but notice the pinkish tint to your cheeks, suppressing the urge for his eyes and thoughts to wander.

you’re a college girl in the prime of her life and his daughter’s best friend, he’d be a fool to think you were blushing and nervous because of him - but he also doesn’t remember you looking like.... this.

so pretty and dressed up and pink in the face as you check him out with a soft and curious look in your eye.

“maybe try to take a nap,” he suggests, his gaze lingering back onto the road so he doesn’t look at your exposed legs. “i’ll pull off at a rest stop to get you ginger ale.”

“that’s not necessary, mr. park,” your sweet voice says, something about it causing his insides to jump - he definitely doesn’t remember you sounding like that. “i’ll be okay. just need the window open for a little longer.”

you spend the next few minutes with the cold, december wind blowing through the car, your back pressed against the comfortable seat behind you. a chill runs through your body, goosebumps rising on your exposed thighs, but it feels better than the alternative.

potentially panicking or vomiting due to current stress of your life.

your gaze shifts to the man beside you, whether it be to check him out or ask if he’s cold unknown to you.

“are you okay with the-”

the words are stuck in your throat when you see his eyes aren’t on the road but your exposed, goose-bumpy thighs, the white lace of your thigh high stockings and pink skirt leaving little to the imagination.

you wish you could see the look in his eye, if it’s judgemental and shameful or full of lust and curiosity. if he’s wondering what you have on just a few inches under your skirt and if that’s something he even thinks about.

or maybe he’s just looking because it’s there - your skirt blowing in the wind and him caught off guard by the sight right there in his passenger seat.

“um, i think i’m good now,” you mumble, watching from your peripheral as he shifts in his seat and tightens his hold on the steering wheel.

“alright, let me know if you wanna stop.”

you bite down on your lip as you nod your head, keeping your eyes on the view in front of you.

the faint sounds of eunbi snoring behind you act as a way to ground you, remind you that these thoughts and feelings you’re having can’t stay.

maybe you have to get it our of your system now, take all the looks you can and feel all the hopefulness your delusional brain needs until you act as if eunbi’s father is a mean, disgusting, grotesque man.

not someone who gets your heart and body pounding.

you’re not sure how many songs play on the radio until you both are talking again, seonghwa looking in the rearview mirror to see his daughter still passed out on the seats.

“do you think she’ll sleep the whole time?”

he hope for his sake, she doesn’t.

you look back at eunbi sleeping soundly, the drool previously trickling down her mouth successfully making a pool on the black leather.

“probably,” you chuckle out lightly. “i have a feeling she went to bed around six.”

“shit,” he laughs out, remembering the days he used to be able to pull all nighters in college or dreaded the idea of waking up in the morning. “i can’t remember the last time i was able to stay up past one.”

“you’re not even that old, mr. park,” you tease, not sure where you got the balls to say that and feeling, at least for a few seconds, that you overstepped; but then he lets out a deep, amused chuckle and it causes butterflies to erupt in your stomach.

“not that old, huh?” he quips, your tooth sinking into your lip at the tone of his voice. “you know i’m turning 40 in a few months, right?”

you crane your neck to look at the man in the driver’s seat, swallowing thickly when you see his eyes are already on you. there’s a certain type of lightness and teasing in them that you’ve never seen before, the man always happy and jovial but never like this.

never looking so... teasing and playful.

“yeah,” you say with a growing smirk, not being able to help your own nervous excitement. “that doesn’t seem too bad.”

the deep, low chuckle that leaves him causes your stomach to swoop, eyes wide and the small smile on your face causing him to look over you once more.

it’s shameless and bold but neither of you seem to care in that moment.

“i’ll keep that in mind,” he says, deep brown eyes piercing through yours before his face turns teasing and.. appropriate.. “the next time eunbi tries to call me an old man or something.”

“right,” you chuckle out, cheeks burning and heart pounding as you allow yourself to break eye contact.

the ride to eunbi’s house is just over two hours, hoping and praying that it goes by quickly - because you’re not sure how much longer you’ll be able to be alone, or mostly alone, with him.

you’re thinking too much into his words and his gaze and the way he makes you feel, making you silly enough to believe that, maybe, a part of him wants you too.

the second you arrived at eunbi’s, you had already felt unwelcomed.

not only because of mrs. park, who just about sneered at your presence in her exquisite home, but because of the dozens of other socialites in the immaculately white living room.

it looked and felt almost like a hospital. a white color scheme with black accents, extremely cold and spotless - the only bit of color was in eunbi’s room where it felt like you could actually breathe.

“i’m sorry, i told her not to throw her fucking gathering today,” eunbi complained, grumpy from her nap but still happy to finally be home.

“a bunch of stuck up snobs, i swear to god. they either have to get the stick lodged so far up their asshole removed or get dicked down by their lousy excuses of-”

“eunbi,” you hear her father’s deep voice reprimand, the girl not even feeling the slightest bit of shame or embarrassment for talking that way in front of her father.

“oh, c’mon, dad, you know it’s true!” she whines in a whispered tone. “they’re the worst! and she knew me and y/n were coming today, do you really think that wasn’t a coincidence?”

because, as far as eunbi thinks, she has sinking suspicions that her mom did this solely to make you uncomfortable.

she had already been hesitant to let you stay in the first place, had eunbi not gone full on bitch mode and stubbornly proclaimed she’d spend the break with you at the apartment.

but you didn’t have to know that.

“i don’t care, it’ll just be my first christmas without my family, mom, who cares about that,” she had said, all types of manipulative and toxic behavior that she learned from the best.

she’s sure her mother was sweet and good at one point in her life, she wouldn’t have ended up with her father in the first place if she wasn’t, but money changes people.

wealth and greed and having the power to get anything you want because you flash a stack of money around or write out a check.

“i told her to have them out by dinner,” he said, his eyes moving from eunbi to you, standing there with tense shoulders and a shy, uncomfortable look on your face.

“you’re more than welcomed here, y/n,” he said, his voice low and full of kindness as he stands in eunbi’s doorway. “don’t worry about it, okay?”

you resist the urge to pout at the touched feeling in your chest, looking from the man to eunbi who’s nodding at her dad’s words.

“thank you, mr. park,” you say, a phrase he swears has never effected him this deeply.

and because of that, he’s quick to haul ass out of there. tells you guys that dinner will be ready around seven and to come down whenever.

you and eunbi spend that time in her room to unpack both of your things and watch movies, her king sized bed nearly lulling you to sleep until her loud squeal and bounce of the bed causes you to jump in shock.

“y/n, don’t be mad at me please,” she whines directly in your face, all wide-eyed and cutesy as she looks at you with mock innocence.

“what did you do?” you mumble tiredly, pushing her away with the smallest of sneers.

“i’ll be back for dinner, i promise, but... is it okay if i go to jiwoon’s for a little?” she asks, cocking her head to the side before shimming closer to you. “i have to get railed so bad.”

“jesus christ, eunbi,” you snort, pushing her away again and burying your face in the pillow - you’ve never met someone who overshares as much as she does.

she plops down on her back with an unabashed giggle, popping right back up like an annoying little dog and looking at you with a smile.

“of course you can go, i’m not gonna hold you hostage here,” you say when she pulls your face away, looking at you so expectantly and sweetly, you couldn’t say no if you wanted.

“okay, but i don’t want you thinking that i’m gonna ditch you this whole time. i’m really not, y/n,” she pouts, knowing that was one of the reasons you were apprehensive about coming - that and her bitch of a mother. “i just miss him.”

a pout falls on your face as you look at eunbi and the genuine look on her face.

“bi, i’m serious, go. i want you to,” you insist, moving a piece of her tangled hair away from her face. “we were just gonna be up here anyway. i’ll probably take a nap, i was about to fall asleep before your loud ass-”

“thank you, thank you, thank you,” she says, pulling you into a tight hug before jumping off her bed and rushing toward her door. “i’ll be back a lot more calm and happy. oh, why, you ask? because i’m about to get my back blown the fuck ou-”

you thank god for your impeccable aim, promptly whacking eunbi in the face with one of her pillows.

“get out of here,” you groan, eunbi throwing the pillow back with a smile on her face.

“sweet dreams, y/n!”

you let out a sigh when she closes her door, falling back onto her bed with a soft plop.

you were definitely tired from your anxious pacing this morning but aren’t sure how much sleep you’re gonna get right now, tonight or for the rest of the month.

knowing that you’re unwelcomed by one person, extremely attracted to another and silently betraying the person you should be most loyal too - but as long as it just stays in your head, and you remind yourself that there’s no way mr. park could feel anything back to you, it’ll be fine.

you’ll just get by quietly and smoothly at dinners or in passing through the hallways, enjoy eunbi’s comfortable king-sized bed and the fact that you don’t have to spend yet another holiday alone.

reruns of drake and josh play in the background, keeping your giggles quiet as drake soaks his feet in lizard pee. you feel your eyes grow heavy the more episodes you watch, the shitty laugh track and loud, bickering brothers eventually lulling you to sleep.

it takes about five knocks on the door to eventually stir you, your eyes fluttering open to see mr park’s figure in the doorway. you can only stare at the man as you adjust to him, taking in his tall, slim figure just a few feet away from you.

taking in the way his white shirt clings to his body, broad shoulders and slim torso on display in a way that makes you wish you could see, just for a second, what he looks like underneath that a-

“sorry if i woke you,” his deep voice hums, the slightest bit of amusement in his voice that causes your cheeks to warm. “i didn’t think you’d be sleeping at seven p.m.”

“no, it’s okay,” you stammer out, sitting up in eunbi’s bed. “i... i don’t even know when i fell asleep, to be honest.”

he looks at the screen to see drake and josh playing, a smirk pulling at his lips as his gaze shifts back to you.

“it’s funny,” you defend with a mumble, a deep chuckle leaving his mouth that causes butterflies to erupt in your stomach - he’s far too handsome, everything about him is just far too attractive, even in his laugh.

“that’s what eunbi claims,” he says, remembering all the years of his daughter forcing him to watch ridiculous shows.

despite his daughter’s outgoing nature, she never had a lot of friends growing up.

there was once a small group of girls she hung out but they quickly drifted apart throughout high school, leaving eunbi really only with him and her boyfriend.

the boyfriend who seonghwa really didn’t wanna like out of principal but seeing that the kid really does love his daughter quickly coming around.

“speaking of, where is she? jiwoon’s?”

“yeah,” you tell him, settling back into the pillows and stretching your arms out in front of you. “she said she’d be back for dinner.”

“well she’s wrong, as usual, because dinner’s ready,” he quips playfully, the smirk pulling at his lips causing you to smile back at him. you swallow nervously when his eyes roam over your face, your own gaze trained on him before you see his mouth start to move again.

“do you want me to bring some up for you? or you’ll come down?”

he can see the apprehension on your face immediately, fear crossing your eyes and your arms folding into each other uncomfortably. he tries to ignores the way your soft white sweater dips by your chest, a hint of perky cleavage just barely showing that causes his dick to twitch in his pants.

he doesn’t know when this happened.

he didn’t know when he became a pervy old man who checked out college girls with his wife just downstairs and the knowledge that you’re his daughter’s friend.

“i’ll come down,” you say, surprising him just as he was about to insist he brings some up for you. “she’ll probably be back soon anyway.”

but five minutes pass by, then ten, then twenty and eunbi’s still not home - it’s just you, seonghwa and mrs. park at the long, glass dining room table.

white chairs with high backs and comfortable cushions to match the immaculate, hospital-like color scheme and environment; truthfully, you’ve never been more terrified to eat a plate of chicken parmesan in your life.

the sound of utensils scraping on the china and the crackling of the fireplace a room over are the only noises heard throughout the home, mrs. park taking a swig of wine and gently placing it on the table with a light clack.

“so, y/n,” she finally says, breaking the tension with her rich-sounding, nasally voice. “how has school been, dear? you’re an... art major, am i remembering that correctly?”

“uh, photography, yeah,” you smile tensely, trying to ignore the judgment in her voice.

“ah, so you never switched over to business then,” she hums, her wine glass back in hand as her dark, gorgeous eyes look you over.

you bite the inside of your cheek as you feel a pink flush cover your face, faintly remembering your roommate saving you a few semesters ago when her mom was grilling you about picking a more practical and useful major.

“she can do whatever she wants, mom,” eunbi eventually snapped, “whether she does business or photography or even liberal arts is none of your business.”

“no,” you mutter out, dropping your gaze to look over the intricate pattern on the table. “i thought about it but it wasn’t something i wanted.”

“so you didn’t want something practical? or useful?” she asks, using those two words yet again while cocking her head to the side with a perfectly plucked eyebrow.

“a business degree would’ve been great, y/n. everyone always has connections to somewhere, you could’ve found a job right out of college.”

you bite back the urge to tell her no. that not everyone has connections to multi billion dollar companies or numbers of ceos in their phones or the ceo of a tech company as their next door neighbors.

but instead, the same way eunbi defended you against her mother, seonghwa does against his wife. gives you a soft, sympathetic side eye before placing his larger hand on his wife’s.

“there are tons of jobs in photography too, honey,” seonghwa says, his voice so warm and soft and welcoming compared to hers even despite the slight edge in it.

“and she can travel to build her portfolio. it’s a fantastic opportunity to explore the world and make money. is there a particular type of photography you’d wanna do?”

you feel yourself relax slightly, a small smile on your face as you nod your head toward the striking couple.

“i would love to be a wedding photographer actually,” you mumble, a romantic at heart who’s read and watched far too many novels and romcoms.

“taking pictures of all those moments would be really fun, i think. like when the groom sees the bride for the first time or just everyone dancing and having fun. weddings are usually happy and i like to photography happy things.”

“that sounds perfect for you then,” seonghwa smiles, his brown eyes lighting up and making you feel even more at ease.

“i think you’ll do great, y/n. and you only have a semester left, right? maybe you and eunbi you could travel for the summer before you start your jobs.”

you ignore the swish of dread and anxiety in your stomach at the mention of next semester, instead choosing to smile softly and nod your head at the man.

“i think she’d love that,” you giggle out, knowing damn well your roommate already has an extensive list of cities she wants to visit before ‘real life begins.’

“and how do your parents feel about everything?” mrs. park asks, making your stomach twist with even more dread and discomfort. “are they proud?”

you wish you could fold in on yourself right now, swallowing the growing, nervous lump in your throat.

because not only is she making you incredibly uncomfortable right now, with her harsh looks and topic of conversation and snide little tone, she just mentioned the people you haven’t spoken to since you left home at eighteen.

you don’t know what to say, you have the slightest bit of concern you might throw up on her, when the loud, chipper voice of your roommate floats through the cold, silent house.

“i’m back!” her chipper voice yelps, sock-clad feet running through the house and sliding on the marble floor. “what’d you guys make?”

“you’re late, eunbi,” seonghwa mumbles warningly, an innocent smile on her face as she picks up her plate of food and plops down next to you.

“am i? or are you girls just early?”

“i’m not a girl.”

“it’s a figure of speech, father,” eunbi says, smiling playfully at her father before turning to you.

she’s able to tell the second she sees your face that you’re uncomfortable, the pink flush still lingering on your face and the tenseness of your shoulders making her frown.

“i’m sorry you were alone with them,” she whispers, genuine sorrow in her wide, mock-innocent eyes. “i got held up. or... down, rather, but i tried to leave on time. i promise.”

“uh huh, i bet,” you mumble back, fighting back a smile despite your discomfort.

because eunbi has always had something about her that made it impossible to stay mad at her, her carefree, unfiltered way of communicating that made being her friend so easy.

even if, sometimes, you wanted to kill her.

“so mom,” eunbi quips, turning her soft gaze to you before looking over her mother.

“what was with your little group of bitchy housewives today? you couldn’t have had them over any other day? what kind of christmas disgrace is that?”

“eunbi...” seonghwa chastises lowly, the girl with her brow already quirked and eyes narrowed.

“i can do whatever i want in my home, eunbi. are you forgetting how things work around here?”

“how could i, when i’m met with thirty middle-aged women with botox out the ass in my home the second i get back from school?” she asks, “you didn’t think me and y/n would wanna spend the break, like, resting?”

“you ran off to your boyfriend’s the second you got here,” mrs. park bites back, her glass of wine empty as she pinches the bridge of her nose. “left your friend all alone in your room. what did i tell you about leaving... guests unattended in the house?”

the accusation and direction of conversation is quickly making you feel uncomfortable, your head turned down in your lap and leaving your cheeks aflame.

she’s making it sound like you would steal something in her home for christ’s sake, like you’re not a guest who’s dreaded coming here due to this very reason.

you block out the back and forth between eunbi and her mom, a few more seconds of yappy feminine voices before a deeply spoken “enough,” echoes through the dining room.

you even look up at the sound, watching as mr. park’s eyes rest on you. his eyes narrow as he takes in the sight of your red cheeks, his gaze shifting from you to his daughter to his wife beside him.

“y/n’s here for a month and we’re gonna make her feel welcomed the entire time. if you two are gonna fight, don’t do it at the dinner table.”

“but dad, she totally-”

“maybe you should’ve taught your daughter-”

“no more,” seonghwa growls, a sense of finality in his tone that causes the room to go silent.

you can tell your friend is unbothered by the reprimanding, shoveling food into her mouth and sipping from her wine glass completely unbothered.

sometimes you wish you could be more like her, so unfazed by conflict or loud voices or the strained relationship with a parent.

eunbi was always open with you about the rocky relationship with her mother, saying more than once to you that if it weren’t for her father, she would’ve long cut off any contact with her.

she had never really been there for eunbi growing up, having nannies and chefs take care of her for most of her life - it was her nanny of fifteen years who taught her how to walk and talk, was there with her for all the milestones she met through infancy, childhood and even adolescence.

but even then, eunbi was nonchalant and carefree about it.

saying that she’s not gonna waste her time being upset over it when she knows her mom doesn’t think about her at all. it makes your heart hurt for eunbi, grateful that the girl at least has a good relationship with her father and boyfriend.

and you, of course. you consider her your best friend and you know she does the same - even if sometimes, you wanna pull her hair out.

“i’m gonna go the food store tomorrow, eunbi, so if you and y/n want anything, just text it to me.”

“oooh can we come!” she squeals, knocking her arm into yours like an excited kid in a candy store. “we wanna try making our cookies again.”

“you’re gonna bake?” the girl’s father asks, a look of doubt on his face that causes you to bite back a smile.

“no, we’re gonna bake,” she corrects with snark, “y/n measures the ingredients and stirs, i put it in the oven and watch.”

“right, silly me,” the man hums, a smirk pulling at his lips the more he sees his daughter get irritated. “but of course you girls can come,” he says, his eyes flicking to you for just a few seconds too long.

you can only look back with a small smile, a quiet “thank you,” leaving your mouth that you’re positive he doesn’t catch.

(he did).

you help clean your plate off before you and eunbi go up to her room later that night, once her door’s closed and she’s sitting down shooting her a look of disdain.

“i know you’re mad, okay, i’m sorry, i really am!” she whines, holding her arms out for you to come over. “i tried to leave but he wouldn’t let me. he just kept wanting to-”

“i don’t need the details you sick freak!” you yelp, going over and plopping down on her bed. “ugh, it was just... so awkward. your mom hates me. she was utterly perturbed that i didn’t switch my major to business.”

“ugh, she’s a crotchety bitch i swear,” eunbi says, falling onto her back and looking at you with sorrow in her eyes. “i’m sorry, i really am. i won’t leave you alone with her again, i promise.”

you quirk an unconvinced eyebrow her way, eyes full of doubt and distrust before she throws herself on you and squeals that, at least, now you can have a scary movie marathon without any interruptions.

it seems you also probably should’ve made her promise last night that you’d never be alone with her father either; it didn’t even occur to you at the time, not thinking that she’d really ditch you two days in a row.

but alas, jiwoon’s car pulled up when all three of you were walking out of the house to the g-wagon for the trip to the food store, her shooting you an apologetic look and whispered condolences in your ear.

“i’m technically not breaking my promise because my dad’s nice,” she mumbled, the feeling in your body more nervous and aroused than it is angry and upset.

but she could’t know that.

“and when i break your head? then what, eunbi?”

“i love you,” she giggles in your ear, the playful tone of your voice letting her know she got off the hook again. “it’ll be fine. my dad’s a good man. he wouldn’t ever talk shit to you the way my mom does.”

little does she know how much you want her dad to talk shit to you.

talk to you in a way that’s casual and playful and teasing, like the hints of it you’ve seen in the car or in eunbi’s room when you were alone last night. you just want him to look at you with the slightest bit of something, even though it’s wrong.

not only because of his wife, no matter how big a bitch she is, but because of-

“do you still wanna come with me?”

seonghwa’s voice pulls you away from your thoughts, looking to the man dressed in a long, black jacket and expensive loafers. he looks far too fancy and delectable for a trip to the grocery store.

eunbi is long gone by now, her giggles and carefree run down the driveway and into her boyfriend’s car leaving you and mr. park alone, with only the blue sky and crisp air as your witness.

him looking you over hopefully, with a twinge of teasing and longing in his gaze.

you looking at him full of nerves and excitement, biting down on your lip as you nod your head timidly.

“s-sure, if that’s okay,” you say, looking from him to his car just a few feet away. “it’d be better than sitting in eunbi’s room again.”

a handsome smile crosses his face as he nods his head, heart pounding and throat constricting as you watch him walk toward the car.

he walks around the front of a smaller, sleek suv, your own eyes watching in confusion until he opens the passenger side door.

you can only stare blankly, head cocked to the side as you really start to wonder if this man is about to make you drive his car costing more than your life.

“are you getting in, y/n?” he asks, an amused smile pulling at his lips - almost like he’s making fun of your nervous, intimidated disposition.

you shake your head of the confusion, cheeks flushing in the cold december air as you do an awkward jog toward the car. you dip in beside him as your body hits the cool leather, craning your neck to shoot him a small, grateful smile.

your faces are closer than you anticipated, breath catching in your throat as his gaze watches you closely.

he doesn’t say a word or move a muscle, taking a few moments for his eyes to roam your face and body before mumbling to buckle up.

you wish you knew how long the drive to the store would be, as it would slightly settle you and the thick, awkward tension in the air. it appears to be enough time for the heat to go on, warm air blowing from the vents before he asks if you want your seat heater on.

“oh, sure, thank you,” you mumble, a smile quirking on his lips as he presses down on the small circular button.

more silence lingers in the air as the trees outside you pass by, the bright winter sun and blue sky not making it feel like christmas is only a few days away.

you can’t remember the last time the holidays have actually felt like it, though, all the lonely days blending into one and feeling as if they were the same.

maybe this year, because you’re surrounded by eunbi and her family, it’ll feel less lonely. maybe you’ll actually enjoy yourself and find that you’ve missed out when you denied her invitation each and every-

“i’m sorry about my wife last night.”

those are words you don’t expect so they shock you even more, looking at the older man beside you with a wide-eyed, confused gaze. his dark eyes are expressionless and casual on the road, one hand on the wheel while the other rests beside him.

“i... what do you mean?” you ask, knowing damn well you understand his apology - and given the unamused look he throws you, he knows you’re full of shit too.

“i don’t think she means to judge you so harshly,” he begins, his deep, smooth voice full of sympathy and softness. “it’s not her place to question your education or major, so i just want to apologize for her.”

“that’s not necessary, mr. park,” you insist, shaking your head as a small, breathy chuckle leaves you. “and it’s not like i haven’t heard it before.”

because no one is ever too confident in any of the arts being your main source of income or profession; even your own parents, although it really wouldn’t matter what you would have chosen, haven’t been supportive.

and you especially haven’t missed the looks of pity or distaste when you tell people on campus or at parties in the frat house, future business leaders or stem majors looking at you like just said the sky is hot pink.

“well that’s just ridiculous,” seonghwa says, ripping you from your thoughts so you can roam over his strong, handsome face. “it’s a great field to work in and something you’re passionate about. that’s what matters most.”

he can tell by the way your cheeks flush that you’re slightly embarrassed and he can’t help but find it endearing, licking over his lips as his mind begins to wander.

wonder about what other parts of you could flush so easily or what else he could say to really make the pinkness deepen.

“i guess,” you mutter, shrugging your shoulders as you look at the passing oak trees and mansions.

“and... what you said last night about traveling to build my portfolio,” you begin, shocked by the words continuing to leave your mouth. “that’s something i’ve thought about doing. i think it’d be really fun, regardless if i did wedding photographer or not.”

“yeah?” he asks, the smile on his face causing your head to jump. “i think that’d be good, too. where would you wanna go first?”

your lips purse to the side as you think it over, a love for traveling anywhere you could but having an especially strong pull toward the tropics.

“cancun or the maldives,” you answer, the financial aspect of the trip leaving it most likely impossible for you. “it’ll probably never happen, because i’d have to sell my first born, but i’ve always wanted to go somewhere like that. somewhere tropical and fun.”

seonghwa bites his tongue about his multiple trips there, instead letting out a chuckle that causes butterflies to erupt. his eyes are too drawn to your body in the front seat, legs crossed and arms over your lap politely.

“you never know,” he hums, ripping his gaze away before you catch his gawking. “you might get there one day, after being the best wedding photographer the city has to offer.”

“oh, please,” you glggle out, cheeks flushing despite the absurdity of the comment.

you catch the smile that creeps on his face, the same handsome, carefree smile you saw in the car last time.

you try not to let it get to you, let your brain convince you that maybe he likes hanging out with you alone as much as you like it too.

“i’m serious,” he says, the earnest tone of his voice slipping into dad mode in a way he doesn’t even realize. “your parents must be proud.”

you bite down on your lip as you let out a soft, almost scornful, chuckle, a quietly mumbled “yeah,” leaving your mouth that causes his eyebrows to pull together.

he always thought it was a little suspicious that in the four years eunbi has known you, she’s never told him about your parents; as far as he knows, she’s never even seen them.

“she has her scholarship and stuff so she doesn’t really need them,” his daughter said one day, the two of them discussing why you were spending yet another break alone in the apartment.

“but they don’t want her home for the holidays? you told her she was welcomed, right?”

“ugh, about a thousand times,” his daughter groans in the seat, throwing herself against the window dramatically. “i basically begged her, dad, but she said she didn’t wanna intrude. i’m telling you it’s because mom is the biggest fucking-”

“eunbi...”

“you know it’s true!” she squeals, seonghwa biting his tongue in an effort to be the bigger and better parent. “i don’t even know why you guys got married.”

but that’s what happens with teen pregnancies and rich families. how they were destined to marry anyway, due to their parents companies and stupid business politics.

it was one drunken night at his dad’s company party and a broken condom that sealed his fate with finality - made him go from a single, carefree high school student to a married businessman with a child just two short years later.

his wife was good at one point he likes to think, remembering she was gorgeous and sassy and not like the other girls who would drop to their knees for him.

but marriage and a child and just life quickly caught up with them, already trapped in a loveless, pointless marriage by the time he hit 25.

he’d be lying if he said he didn’t stay for eunbi, that they both didn’t stay for eunbi throughout her childhood and now just grew too used to being an unhappy married couple who live separate lives.

there was never any reason for them to divorce though, no one serious in his or his wife’s lives and the hassle of money and disputing houses and cars and assets far too draining.

“i don’t believe i’ve ever met them,” seonghwa says, pulling into the store parking lot to see it’s less crowded than he suspected it’d be. “what do they do?”

you couldn’t imagine anything more unbearable than disclosing to your friend’s hot dad who you may or may not have feelings for about the messed up relationship with your parents.

it just screams daddy issues, which might say a lot about your very attraction to him in the first place.

“they run a little restaurant back in my home town. it’s about three hours from campus, which is why i don’t really go home for breaks.”

seonghwa hums lowly, nodding his head as he looks at you at a stop sign.

you’re unnerved by the way his eyes roam you, like he can see signs of you being uncomfortable about your parents and wants to know why - but why would he care? you’re only his daughter’s roommate.

“do you miss seeing them?”

you lick over your lips nervously, watching as his eyes darken every so slightly.

he watches each and every of your movements carefully, so in tune with your reactions and breaths you can just feel yourself getting more and more worked up.

not in the slightest, you wanna say. i’ll probably never see them again and have no qualms about it, mr. park.

“i suppose,” you mutter, shrugging your shoulders as you apprehensively meet his gaze.

“you suppose?” he asks, concern etched on his face. “when was the time you’ve seen them? since your freshmen year?”

you avert your gaze as your teeth sink into your bottom lip, in no way wanting to have this discussion at ten a.m. when, much to your pleasure, an impatient car behind beeps at seonghwa’s mercedes.

his dark eyes move to the rearview mirror, narrowed and irritated in a way you can’t help but think is sexy, before he puts his foot off the break and turns into the parking lot.

“i think this person’s leaving,” you mutter when you notice another car go in reverse, seonghwa snatching the spot before the impatient, crotchety lady behind him could steal it.

you can’t help but smirk as seonghwa eyes her when you get out of the car, giving him a look that’s half judgmental and half amused.

“what? she beeped at me.”

“aren’t you supposed to be, like, an adult?”

he rolls his eyes as he takes a cart from the pile, nodding his head for you to go in front and “stop talking back to an elder.”

you can’t help but smirk at his playfulness, taking your spot in the front and pretending as if you always move your hips this much when you walk casually; you would’ve felt embarrassed, had you not turned around a few moments later to see his eyes already on you.

“where to first, mr. park?”

he has to bite back the groan threatening to leave his mouth, reminding himself to keep himself in check this month - starting tomorrow.

“depends, y/n,” he hums, voice far too deep and sultry to be surrounded by innocent bystanders in the grocery store. “what do you want?”

words are caught in your throat and you can only stare dumbly, your plan quickly back firing as he appears to do the same - but it’s gotta be in your head, right?

regardless, it quickly humbles you in the form of a small, unsure shrug.

it’s how you two start walking up and down the aisles, seonghwa putting in what he remembers and items on his mental list while also insisting you put in anything you want.

your arms bump ever so often, softly apologizing and acknowledging it the first few times before you both realize it may be happening on purpose.

you stick close to him when the aisles get tight and crowded, his deep voice telling you to “go ahead,” causing you to swallow shakily. you feel the presence of his hand just a few inches from your hips, lingering and hovering but never fully touching.

it’s finally when you’re in the bread aisle, seonghwa a few feet away talking to the man at the bakery counter, that you decide to put something in the cart.

you would usually never accept someone’s offer to buy you something, already feeling bad about staying with them rent free and eating their meals without compensating.

but the brioche loaf brand is one of your favorites, only sold on occasion at the corner store near campus.

you press up on your tippy toes to grab the bag of bread, stretching your arm up with all your might. the plastic slips through your fingers just as you’re about to snatch it down, letting out an annoyed huff as you pulled down your sweater dress.

you mumble your annoyances before trying again, back on the tips of your toes with your arm raising when you feel a hand on the small of your back.

it’s large and warm and seeping through the thin material of your burgundy dress, a snappy protest about to leave your mouth when you catch mr. park’s face in your peripheral.

there’s a content look on his face as he takes the bag with ease, holding it above your head as his hand moves from your back to your waist with a gentle touch.

you look at him with wide eyes and a pounding heart, his hand on your waist so foreign and strange but... good. something you didn’t even realize you’d been craving until it happened.

the strength and warmth of his hand, though if you think about it just enough, you can feel the weight of his wedding band through the fabric.

“is this what you wanted?”

his voice is deep and low as he speaks to you and you alone, your eyes raising to see him staring down at you. you can’t make out the expression in them, just the darkness in his eyes and the frantic beating of your heart.

you can’t even being to understand the context of his words right now because, yes, this is exactly what you’ve wanted - but he doesn’t know that, right?

“w-what?”

he can’t help the smirk that crosses his face, all sorts of pride and satisfaction and arousal coursing through his veins at your current disposition.

“the bread,” he says, stepping back and holding it out to you. “is this the one you wanted?”

your eyes narrow as you look at him, the smirk on his face, the amusement in his gaze, the playfulness that’s radiating off him - is he fucking with you?

“oh... i... yes,” you finally say, coming to your senses and not allowing yourself to think this way anymore. “that’s the one. i hope it’s okay.”

“of course,” he hums, placing the bread in the cart before going back to the front handles. “you can get anything you want, i already told you that.”

you nod dumbly as you follow beside him, seonghwa picking more things off the shelves and muttering the list to himself as you try to get your shit together.

because yes, you’re attracted to him and yes, you’ve found yourself alone with him for more than two days in a row and yes, there’s been some lingering looks and touches but that doesn’t mean anything.

you can’t let your own deluded thoughts and desires get in the way of reality.

the reality that he’s your friend and roommate’s married father and you’re a college student. he doesn’t want you just as much as you shouldn’t want him so what’s the problem here?

maybe it’s that you’re a 22-year-old woman who’s only been on a handful of dates.

that the last time you made out with someone was when you were drunk and dared to kiss the first guy that walked through the bar (luckily, somewhat attractive and surprisingly polite).

that, maybe, you’re so horribly touch-starved and aching for affection, you’re trying to find it in a hot father figure who’s just as kind as he sexy - and that, you think, is the second most tragic thing here.

because the first would absolutely be thinking that any of this, any of these stares or touches or coincidences of eunbi leaving you two alone, means something.

means that maybe this break is for you two is create an attraction and build some sort of bond and-

“y/n.”

you’re barely able to register seonghwa’s voice before his arm is wrapped around your waist, pulling your body into his taller one and having you pressed up right against him.

you were so lost in thought of him that you didn’t see the older women skirting her cart around the aisle quickly, phone pressed to her ear as she yells to her husband about the christmas ham.

you’re not even sure if she shoots you a look of sorrow or utters any apology, too consumed and distracted by the feeling and proximity of mr. park.

his arm wrapped around you, your body pressed flush up against him, his neck craned down to look at you with a building... something in his eyes. playfulness and teasing but also something darker, something that makes your stomach swoop and renders you unable to move.

“are you always so clumsy and distracted?” he mumbles lowly, his deep voice quiet for only you two to hear - like he knows even in a sea of strangers, he has to keep these interactions quiet.

“what would you do if i wasn’t here to help you, y/n?”

i wouldn’t have been distracted in the first place, you’re tempted to say - but you certainly don’t wanna open that can of worms, especially not in the middle of this grocery store with the way your heart is pounding.

“i... i’m sorry, i was distracted,” you mutter, playing up the damsel in distress just a little bit. “my mistake, mr. park.”

he licks over his lips, swearing his name just being spoken has never effected him like this. he doesn’t even know where this attraction came from, seeing you leave the dorm building yesterday morning and something in his body jumping at the sight of you.

maybe it’s just showing how unhappy he really is with his life, living day to day to just work. hang out with his friends and go to sleep alone - he doesn’t remember the last time his wife touched him, looked at him like she wanted him or made any move to be with him.

he just knows that you showed up, looking so pretty and wide-eyed and coy, and is now about to lose his mind.

“it’s alright,” he says, hoping you don’t hear the thick tension he hears in his own voice, like he’s some idiotic, hormonal young boy. “i think we only have a few more aisles left, anyway.”

he plucks the remaining items off the shelves before you both make your way to the self check-out, him scanning and you bagging because “eunbi says if my career as a photographer fails, i could be the best grocery bagger ever.”

“that’s just because she puts the bread on the bottom,” seonghwa mutters, a smile on your face as you nod your head - she squished one too many of your brioche loafs before you realized bagging just wasn’t for her.

your fingers graze ever so often, the coldness of his tips a stark contrast to your warmer ones.

a particularly big, bulk bag of vegetables proves to be a challenge for you, working through the packed bag with some difficulty. you let out an annoyed groan as you play a dangerous game of tetris, trying not to rip open the brown paper bag.

you finally get the box inside, a little bit prouder than you care to admit, when your precious brioche loaf is dropped right atop. you look up at seonghwa to see him already apologizing, your brow raised as you look at the older man in confusion.

did he think your hand was out? why would he just throw the food at you?

but it’s only when you feel a little more air than normal on your chest that you see what could’ve possibly caused the distraction, the white lace from your bra sticking out.

your cleavage in this dress was hidden for the most part, only becoming a little more obvious when you moved around or packed a shitload of groceries. it makes you bite back a smirk as you put two and two together, looking up to see his eyes still lingering over you.

two can play at this game mr. park.

“mr. park,” you begin, feigning a certain kind of innocence as you place your bread atop the other groceries and finally look up at him. “are you always so clumsy?”

it takes a few seconds for a smile to pull at his lips, the tick in his jaw not going unnoticed to you - so maybe this wasn’t all in your head. maybe he wants you too... possibly.

“you’re funny, y/n,” he mumbles, a smile pulling at your lips as he takes out his black card. “i guess i was distracted, too.”

you swallow the lump in your throat as you feel the slightest hint of arousal run through you, shaking it off and letting out a forced, girlish chuckle.

you pack the car a few minutes later without any lingering eyes or touches, seonghwa telling you about the meals they plan on cooking for christmas.

they usually don’t make their own food for holidays but decided to have a more traditional set up for you and eunbi’s arrival - he also hasn’t cooked a meal for his family in god knows how long.

“that’ll be great, thank you,” you tell him, clicking your seatbelt in as he backs out the spot. “i’m kind of a picky eater but i’ll eat anything you guys provide me.”

“and you have the whole brioche loaf,” seonghwa says, a giggle leaving your mouth as you nod your head.

“true. it’s really good.”

“i’ve never tried, perhaps you’d be willing to-”

his wife’s name popping up on his car dashboard acts as a way to bring you back to reality, brings a certain kind of silence over the both of you for a few seconds.

like he wasn’t just rubbing his body against yours and you weren’t just flirting with him in the form of smirking lips and snarky comments.

you watch a twinge of annoyance behind seonghwa’s eyes, gaze roaming over the screen as if he’s in contemplation before muttering “one second.”

“hello?”

“where are you?” her voice snaps in annoyance, “i told you we had that board meeting at one.”

“and it’s only noon,” his deep voice mumbles, not matching her level of irritation but sounding a whole lot different than a few seconds ago. “me and y/n are coming back now.”

“y/n?” she spats, like it’s a disgusting piece of food she wouldn’t dare put in her mouth. “what about eunbi?”

“she went off with jiwoon before i could get her in the car.”

“so it was only you two?” she asks, the snide judgment and underlying tone in her voice causing your stomach to churn. “did she ask you to buy a bunch of-”

“i’ll be home in twenty and then be on my way over,” he says, cutting her off and hanging up before she can even get another word you.

your stomach churns and a sick feeling comes over you, her utter dislike and disdain for you causing you to bite your lip.

because not only does she not like you to be with her daughter, she doesn’t want you with her husband (although, you suppose, you can’t really blame her for that one).

“i’m sorry about that,” seonghwa winces, the silence lingering between you two heavy. “you could’ve gotten anything you wanted, y/n. this is your christmas too. don’t feel bad about anything, okay?”

you swallow the lump in your throat, your gaze moving to his as he stops at the red light.

your eyes lingering over his and his doing the very same, hand twitching to reach out and move the piece of hair from your slightly flushed face.

and there was something about the way you were both looking at each other, eyes so focused and unwavering and honest, that had you thinking maybe all of this wasn’t in your heads.

but it didn’t mean either of you could act on it - they were just... feelings of lust and wonder and all things forbidden, not seriously believing that a relationship like this could unfold right under the nose of his wife, his daughter and your roommate.

unless the pull was so desperate.

so overwhelming and all-consuming and present between the both of you, little moments couldn’t help but happen.

strike one:

with none other than eunbi as a distraction, the girl promising she wasn’t gonna leave you alone anymore, you were able to take your mind off everything.

the tension-filled, heart pounding moments with mr. park that felt just as wrong as they did right.

you spent a few nights going out with her, jiwoon and all of their high school friends, a surprisingly nice group of young adults who you got along well with.

they were loud and crazy and did far too many shots but they also seemed to be genuinely kind. even the boy who was flirting with you all night, handsome and tall with pretty dark eyes, acted as a good distraction.

grinding up against him as the music pounded throughout the bar, alcohol coursing through your veins allowing you to forget about the older man who’s been living in your head for almost a week now.

“how have i never met you before, y/n?” the boy mumbled lowly in your ear, your head against his shoulder carelessly.

but it was right there in that moment, him saying your name, that the moment was over.

because it just didn’t sound like seonghwa, as delusional as that was.

it didn’t get your heart racing or lips quirking the same way it did when you heard the older man say it. the smile attached to his handsome, mature face and the deep, lowly spoken tone that always held a hint of teasing and sincerity.

“but danny really is so freakin’ nice!” eunbi squeals to you on christmas eve, the two of you in her immaculately white and modern kitchen prepping the chocolate chip cookie cough for tomorrow.

“and you two seemed to be getting along, i saw your ass all up on him.”

“eunbi, that wasn’t me. that was the vodka. i don’t know who that girl was.”

she throws her head back as a loud chuckle leaves her, telling you again that she warned you her snobby, rich little friends have been able to handle their liquor since middle school.

it’s how they cope, she had said, unloved kids with more money than god learning to deal with the world of limitless funds and minimal parental supervision.

“well he hasn’t stopped asking me about you, you know,” she hums, her eyebrows quirked suggestively as she mixes the bowl of ingredients lazily.

“and not just because of your newfound grinding skills, which by the way, are usually learned by the tenth grade.”

your eyes narrow at her comment, throwing a small ball of dough at her that she, impressively, catches in her mouth.

“he really is just, like, so taken by you, y/n. seriously. i told him that you’re graduating this year with a degree in photography and he nearly came in his pants. he loves the artsy girls.”

“you are so vile,” you snort out, shaking your head at the girl sitting criss-crossed on the counter. “and stop saying that. we both know i’m not graduating this year,” you mumble, her face falling pathetically.

“i told you we’re gonna find a way,” she whines lowly, looking at you with all kinds of sympathy and sadness in her eyes - she would offer to pay for you, if she didn’t think you would smack her upside the head.

“oh and what? is my new boyfriend danny gonna do that for me?”

“in exchange for more grinding and a photoshoot, i think. do you want me to try?”

she lets out another giggle despite the way you pinch her leg, peeking inside the bowl with a surprising amount of pride.

"this looks good,” you mumble, swiping your finger to collect some of the chocolate dough.

“hey!” she whines brattily, thrusting a spoon toward your hand just a second too late.

“why are you whining in here like a child, eunbi?” seonghwa asks, walking through the entryway and the large, white island in the center. “what are you making? please don’t burn the house down.”

“haha dad, you’re so funny,” she mocks sarcastically, jumping down from the counter with her hands on her hips. “where are the baking sheets?”

a simple shrug from her father causes her to roll her eyes, grumbling about how she was really trying to avoid her bitch of a mother today. he holds back his smirk, about to reprimand her before she’s out the kitchen and shouting for her mother upstairs.

it’s only you and seonghwa in the kitchen now, a heavy silence in the air as you stand there dumbly - bowl beside you, cookie dough adorning the top of your finger.

“what are you girls making?” he finally asks, his body moving closer and closer causing you to swallow.

“i... uh, cookie dough. for tomorrow,” you say, lifting your finger and wiggling the tip full of batter. “chocolate chip.”

his eyes move to your finger before grazing over your mouth, his tongue peeking out ever so slightly as he reminds himself to act right.

he hasn’t been alone with you since that day at the food store, just seeing you in passing in the hallways or outside the house as you and eunbi went to and fro.

he hears your giggles at night and tired groans in the morning, quietly yelling at his daughter to wake up and get her ass out of bed.

and he knows it’s probably for the better, that you two don’t find yourselves alone with each other, but he can’t help but feel a rush of excitement right now.

you watch as he moves closer, with the same wide-eyed look you’ve been giving him since he first saw you in your apartment weeks ago.

“ahh, you’re making it from scratch? that’s ambitious.”

“yeah, we googled a recipe,” you tell him, finger still beside you in the air.

you don’t know what causes you to be so bold, maybe him attempting to carry out a normal conversation even though he’s looking at you with so much lust and desire, but you can’t stop once you start.

“how’s it taste?” he asks, his voice deep and slightly strained as he nods his head toward your finger.

you don’t even bat an eye as you slip the tip of your finger in your mouth slowly, swirling your tongue around as you take up all the dough on your skin.

it’s sweeter than you originally thought it’d be but it tastes good nonetheless, keeping your eyes on him as you reamin as innocent and unassuming as possible.

“it’s good,” you say, dropping your finger like you didn’t just make a show of licking and sucking it. “i like it better raw.”

you don’t even realize your words until you see the fleeting look on his face, tongue swiping across his lip and eyes hardening. they roam you so slowly and darkly, you can’t control the growing butterflies and swooping in your lower stomach.

“mm, me too,” he hums lowly, the hardening of his cock in his pants something he hasn’t felt in forever. it’s taking everything in him to control himself, from his eyes popping out of his head to letting out the deepest of growls in the back of his throat.

“do you want some?” you ask, cocking your head to the side questioningly.

he has to desperately hold on to his composure, not think about how easy it’d be to pin you against the cabinet right behind you. take just a few steps closer, have your back against the cold granite and let you feel just how much he wants some.

but he has to play it cool, push down these building desires and ignore your teasing because he’s almost fucking positive that’s what’s happening here.

“want some what?” he asks, his voice lowering just a tad.

he hasn’t played a game like this since college, watching as your eyes widen and brow quirks up.

but he sees that’s exactly what it is when you turn around and face the bowl of cookie dough to him, a smile just as sweet as the cookies on your face.

“cookie dough. before we put them in the oven and possibly burn them.”

the breathy chuckle he lets out leaves your stomach in shambles, his tongue peeking out and poking the inside of his cheek causing a swooping sensation to flood through you.

but before he can even think to say anything, before your eyes can look over his body and make you feel even more warm and bothered, eunbi floats back in and fiddles in the cabinets for the baking sheets.

“that woman is too much, i swear,” she grunts, whipping out the materials quickly before her head snaps to her father. “why are you still here?”

“i wanted some cookies. and to ensure y/n won’t allow you do burn down the kitchen.”

“it was one time, dad, and an accident. how many times do i have to defend myself in this house?”

you let out a giggle as you look from eunbi to seonghwa, your roommate turning her back to set up the practice baking session.

“let’s go bitch! i hope we didn’t fuck this up.”

seonghwa’s eyes roam over you for a few more moments, his tongue swiping across his lips before, finally, leaving the kitchen with his dick hard as a rock.

strike two:

christmas consisted of successful cookies per your and eunbi’s homemade batch, passive aggressive comments from mrs. park about your degree and a whole fuck ton of sexual energy between you and seonghwa.

you could almost always feel when his gaze was boring into you, when you got up to take more mashed potatoes or kept your attention on eunbi as she told her parents about what job she wants to start at next semester.

it’s also when eunbi almost let it slip about your scholarships, had you not viciously pinched her arm and caused a pained cry to leave her mouth - if you ever thought jiwoon was gonna verbally assault you, it was certainly in that moment.

“why did you pinch me so hard?” she whined later that night, jiwoon passed out on the couch after five too many homemade cookies. “look at my bruise.”

a genuine frown crosses your lips as you look at her arm, rubbing her skin gently as you mumble your soft spoken apologies.

“i’m sorry but i just... i didn’t want your mom to know that,” you say back just as whiney and pathetic. “she already thinks i’m an incompetent idiot. knowing i have to wait a whole year because i’m broke is just too embarrassing.”

it’s an admission that, while eunbi already suspected that, still makes her feel bad - it nearly makes her wanna cry, that you don’t feel welcomed and loved in her home because her mom has to be a judgmental bitch.

“y/n...”

“bi, it’s fine, oh, my god do not cry right now,” you grumble, flicking her in the head lightly.

“i just feel bad,” she cries lowly, moving hrself closer to you and away from her boyfried. “it’s not fair, y/n. you worked so hard and now you have to wait. how could they do this to you?”

a small, touched smile crosses your face at eunbi as you shake your head, dabbing at her watery eyes.

if jiwoon wakes up, he’s literally gonna beat my ass,” you say, smiling when a wet giggle leaves eunbi; you don’t want this time to be sad or upsetting. “i thought he was gonna hit me at dinner.”

“okay if he’s hitting anything, it’s gonna be my-”

“no. no, no, no.”

the snort that leaves her mouth doesn’t help the sinking feeling in her stomach, looking at you with a frown still adorning her face.

“i’m sorry if my mom’s making you feel uncomfortable. she does it to every single person ever and i don’t-”

“it’s fine, please stop apologizing for her,” you say, the sinking reminder in the back of your mind that seonghwa had been doing the very same thing - apologizing for that woman.

“i know she’s stressing you out, too. we’re in it together.”

“that’s true,” she sighs, letting out a long, dramatic groan before resting her head on your shoulder. “i’m so bloated, i don’t think i’m ever gonna be able to eat again.”

and it was funny that, days after the holiday, eunbi was still convinced that she was bloated from christmas dinner.

“babe, i don’t even think that’s possible,” jiwoon consoled her, you and him sitting in her room as she gets ready to go down to the pool.

because, naturally, like everyone in this godforsaken rich town, they get ready to go to the pool that’s inside of their homes; when eunbi told you to pack a bathing suit back at your apartment, you looked at her like she was insane.

until she clarified that her pool is heated and, conveniently, indoors.

“just through the backyard,” she had said - and she truly meant it.

just a few yards away from the main deck area, with floor to ceiling glass windows that showcase the extravagant landscaping and, of course, the outdoor pool and jacuzzi just a few feet away.

“eunbi, this is insane,” you say, marveling at the sight before you.

“don’t you wish you came sooner?” she asks with a wink, your eyes rolling as you place down your towel.

you had the option to bring two bathing suits - a skimpy black one you don’t remember being so scandalous or a red one you remember eunbi insisting you buy last summer.

and you just knew it was because danny was coming, currently showcasing his impressive eight pack that, truly, just doesn’t do it for you - maybe if he was twenty years older, apparently, and somebody’s father and husband.

you shake the thoughts out of your head, walking a few steps toward the pool before eunbi tackles you from behind. you both land with a loud splash, followed by the excited shouts and loud splashes of her other friends.

you’d be lying if you said you could remember the last time you had this much fun, splashing and giggling and acting so carefree despite the many challenges you’ll have to face soon.

but that’s not any of your concern right now, currently sitting atop danny’s shoulders and trying to knock down eunbi in a game of chicken.

“you little bitch! get your nails out of me!”

“coming from the girl who literally just tried to choke me two seconds ago!”

“like it’s your first time being choked!”

and you don’t know whether jiwoon was shocked by you saying that statement or the fact that his girlfriend exposes all of her sexual kinks to you but alas, it did the trick in sealing you a victory.

a smug smile on your face as danny jumps up and down in excitement, your body bouncing and nearly falling over him had you not gripped onto his shoulders.

it’s at that time eunbi pops up from the water, hair a soaking mess and mascara running down her face. she’s about to open her mouth, probably to yell at you, before a volleyball is thrown through the air and just misses her face.

instead, it hits danny square in the head. the boy letting out a yelp before you promptly fall backwards in the water, hearing eunbi’s shrill squeal and giggle on your way down.

you pop up and throw her a dirty look, danny rubbing at the back of his side before apologizing profusely.

“it’s okay,” you giggle out, about to say you shouldn’t have been up there for so long before eunbi’s squealing in the air.

“dad, what the hell kind of aim was that!”

you feel your body stiffen before you quickly shoot around, none another than mr. park standing there looking as handsome as ever.

he puts the young men around you to shame, good-looking, muscular college boys who anyone in their right mind would find attractive - but they just don’t beat him.

his striking eyes or tall, lean stature or the fact that he’s just so fucking-

“got worse with age, bi, what can i say?” he chuckles, extra white fluffy towels in his hold that he places on the chair. “sorry, danny.”

seonghwa’s known danny for a few years now, one of jiwoon’s friends who seems... alright. not a bad guy but also not a good guy - just kind of there; but it didn’t occur to the man just how much he was bothered by him until he saw you on his shoulders.

because he could’ve put you in danger, of course. put you in danger at his house where if things got bad, he’d be responsible; as for the ball, it merely slipped from his finger tips.

“no problem mr. park,” the kid smiles, the other friends gathering around and looking at him expectantly. “we’re gonna play a round of volleyball. you in?”

“no. no dads allowed,” eunbi whines, seonghwa rolling his eyes at his bratty adult daughter.

“why not? because i’m better than all of you, eunbi?”

“oh please,” she grumbles lowly, rolling her eyes and grabbing you to lead you toward the stairs. “you know what, we’re going in the hot tub anyway. since she decided to rock my shit in chicken. enjoy my father traitors,” eunbi grumbles to jiwoon and his friends.

“i did not,” you protest weakly, feeling two pairs of eyes on you as you make your way out of the pool with your friend.

the first thing that strikes seonghwa, apart from the major twitch in his pants, is how skimpy your bikini is.

red bottoms with thin straps holding it up, a matching red top showcasing cleavage and beauty marks on your chest and all the things that are proving to drive him fucking crazy upon seeing you every day.

it’s taking everything in him to control the growing ache in his shorts, your eyes looking at him so coyly and attentively that you’re ignoring the college boy gawking at you right in front of him.

there’s a certain sort of twisted pride in his chest, you giving him attention and seemingly reciprocating his interest, when there’s someone younger right there for you.

younger and unmarried and more suitable for you. someone you can actually be with where it wouldn’t be considered dirty or wrong or secretive; but maybe that’s why you’re both drawn to it in the first place.

that, and because you’re both really hot.

“he’s literally hot, y/n! why don’t you like him?” eunbi whines to you, the two of you sitting across from one another in the hot tub outside.

the december air is crisp but feels nice comapred to the steaming water you’re gratefully submerged in. anything to take you away from mr. park shirtless and wet in the pool right now.

“i do like him, bi,” you mutter, trying your best to convince her and now seem suspicious.

“okay, yeah, as a person but who cares about that!” she whines, flopping her hands dramatically in the water. “you don’t want him to rail you.”

“eunbi!” you squeak, splashing in her direction as a warm, embarrassed blush rises to your cheeks.

“i’m serious y/n. you’ve never been railed before and danny’s such a good option. he’s hot and he’s sweet and he’s so pathetically into you, it’s a little sick.”

you don’t know what to say so you don’t say anything, shooting her a look that screams can we please not talk about this because you don’t know how much i actually wanna be railed by your father so let’s stop this discussion.

but she only rolls her eyes, moving herself closer to you so she can tug at your arm annoyingly.

“is he just not your type?” she questions, her eyebrows pulling together in confusion for a few moments before utter shock crosses her face.

“wait, what is your type? it’s... men, right? have i been hooking you up with the wrong gender this whole time?” she asks in disbelief, “could we have been hooking up this whole time?”

you press your lips together so you don’t burst out laughing, dryly replying “yes, eunbi, i’m into men.”

but the more you think about it, the more you think maybe you don’t have a type.

“and i’ve... never really thought about it before, to be honest. i just know i’m not into like... frat guys or whatever.”

because any party you’d been to, any douchey college guy wearing a backwards hat or cut off shirt, you had never been more disinterested. you couldn’t ever picture yourself falling for someone like that, romantically or sexually.

the one time you remember thinking someone was hot was when you took film and lit with your 31-year-old professor.

“so older guys?” eunbi concludes after hearing that, a smirk on her face as she raises her eyebrows playfully. “we gotta scope out some golf courses or retirement homes?”

“please,” you scoff, a giggle leaving her mouth as she throws her head back gleefully.

“okay, really though, i’ll tell danny you’re not interested and to stop trying so hard if you’re really not interested.”

but maybe danny as a distraction will be good.

will make you see that, perhaps, someone single and your own age and not your best friend’s father will be good thing for you to explore.

so you shrug lightheartedly, the smirk on your face causing eunbi to let out a low “oooh shit.”

you look over at her and your smile only widens when she knocks your shoulder, saying that you’re looking to be a play girl and drain a rich, lovesick man of some christmas presents.

“yeah, right! why drain a rich man when i can drain my best friend,” you tease, looking around her yard and still in astonishment that this is really her life. “i mean, two pools? is that really necessary?”

“three actually. there’s one behind the guest house on the other side. a small one. very humble.”

“oh, a small one, okay. great.”

she lets out another giggle, the two of you talking over plans for new years eve.

you might go up to jiwoon’s parents house in the mountains for the weekend, spend the time drinking with the small group of friends you’ve come to genuinely like over these past few weeks.

“it’s only two hours away so it won’t be that bad either,” she says, getting up to shake the hot water off her arms. “i’ll be right back, i have to pee.”

you nod your head, grateful she didn’t piss in the pool and allowing yourself to sit there, eyes closed, body relaxed, in the silence.

you can hear the faint screams of the boys from the indoor pool area and the swish of the hot tub filter, peeking open your eyes when, suddenly, you think you hear a boom of thunder in the distance.

you watch the sky darkening and clouds coming in, signaling a storm is coming in soon and quick. a sigh leaves your mouth, enjoying your last few moments of peace before finally standing in the hot tub.

the crisp winter air blows and sends goosebumps up your arms, a shiver running through your body as you attempt to splash some hot water on your upper body.

you don’t know how you know someone’s watching you but you do, some sort of strange intuition within you looking up to see none other than mr. park standing a few feet away from the hot tub.

his dark hair is wet and hanging in his face, swimming trunks soaked and his exposed chest still dripping chlorine water.

you press your lips together as your eyes roam his chest, a hint of abs on his lean stomach that causes a small, strangled groan to leave your mouth - you will never understand how this man is pushing 40.

but the same way you’re looking at him, he’s looking at you.

water covering your body, currently hunched over trying to warm the rest of your body; but it’s when you stand he really starts to gawk, your figure standing full and tall and giving him a perfect view of your hardening nipples from the cold crisp air.

you can see the lust in his eyes the same way you know he can and you’re about to do something to just make him crack. mistakingly untie your bottoms, catching them at the last second so he thinks he’s about to get a peak.

or undo the back of your top and pout at him, ask him to please tie it back for you because it’s way too hard to reach behind and do it yourself.

or maybe you’ll just drop to your knees right there, try to see if there’s any hint of a bulge in his swimming trunk bottoms and-

his body is gone just as fast as he arrived, confusion covering your face before you shake your head of your perverted thoughts - dropping to your knees when his daughter and wife are right here, what the fuck is wrong with you today?

you blame eunbi, all her talk about getting railed when you’ve been wanting to jump her father’s bones.

you carefully make your way out of the hot tub, not wanting to eat shit and scarp your leg on the concrete.

it feels like you’re about to freeze in the cold, another shiver wracking your body before you turn to stick your cold, goosebump-ridden arms back in the hot tub. it warms you for just a few seconds, a low, satisfied hum leaving your mouth before you hear footsteps coming up from behind you.

something in you tells you it’s him again.

whether it be the way your body heats up and feels prickly, the obvious feeling of eyes burning into your exposed back causing you to remain still and oblivious.

but you can longer remain oblivious a few seconds later, when a tall body is just a few inches away from completely pressing against you.

“you forgot a towel,” is all he says, placing it on the wet rim of the hot tub.

when he leans forward to place the white towel down, he’s careful and meticulous with his movements. brushing up against you every so slightly and carefully that you can feel his hard bulge on your ass for a few seconds too long.

at first you think you’re crazy, feeling what you were trying to envision in your head, but then you absolutely know it there’s.

you can feel the wetness from his bathing suit on your legs, his cock right there resting on the thin, red fabric of your bikini bottoms and if you were as weak as you felt inside, if he stayed there just a little bit longer, a moan would’ve absolutely left your mouth.

if you pushed back just a little to feel more of his cock on you, grind your ass his hardness just enough to hear him let out a low groan or maybe curse a little.

but he moves away, almost like he knew the perfect amount of time before that happened and almost like he did it by accident - but when you turn around and see the look in his eyes, you know it wasn’t.

the same way he can see a palpable desire and surprise and tension in your gaze, causing him to suppress a growing smirk. it makes you wanna tease him back in whatever way you can but you know that eunbi’s due back from the bathroom at any moment.

so you only cock your head to the side, lick over your lower lip carefully as you grasp the towel in your hands gently.

“thank you, mr. park,” you say, your voice as airy and sweet as you can possibly make it without sounding like an idiot.

“you’re welcome, y/n,” he says, taking a few steps back as his eyes lock on you. he stays there for a few moments until he hears the door to the pool house open.

you watch his lustful, dark expression change right then and there, a towel wrapping around his lower body and his face stretching into a happy, father-approved look.

“so you’re good with anything for dinner, y/n?” he asks, his voice loud and clear enough for his approaching daughter to hear. “i know you mentioned you were picky.”

“let’s get pizza!” eunbi screeches through the air, telling seonghwa that everyone’s staying over and they’ll need at least four boxes.

but you can’t even think about pizza right now, not when this moment right here is solidifying the crazy thought in your head that your best friend’s dad wants you just as much as you want him.

you called him out later that night around one a.m., after eunbi and jiwoon were the last to pass out to your scary movie marathon.

the others were sprawled out on the basement floor, an intricate array of blankets and pillows on the floor that you attempted to weave through, both, skillfully and quietly.

there was a dryness in your throat that could only be settled by a cold glass of water, making your way through the house quietly and praying you don’t run into mrs. park.

she’s been just as passive aggressive as she usually is in front of people so you could never imagine being alone with her. wondering what the hell she’d say to you without seonghwa and eunbi as buffers.

you were relieved when the lights were off in the kitchen, padding your way to the fridge to take out a bottle of water. you twist and turn the cap off to gulp down the cold liquid in the refrigerator light, a quiet gasp leaving you as your thirst is quenched.

you briefly consider going up to eunbi’s room to sleep tonight, not sure how you feel about being squished in with eunbi and jiwoon cuddling on the couch, when the light suddenly flicks off.

it causes you to freeze and halt all thoughts, fear running through you for all three seconds before you see seonghwa’s tall, familiar figure pass you. you watch him carefully in the dim light of the fridge, his shirtless chest yet again right in front of your face.

leaned back against the counter across from you, giving you a perfect view of his toned chest and gray sweatpants.

“midnight snack?” he asks, the smirk on his face almost causing you to roll your eyes.

instead, your lips quirk into a small smile. raising your water bottle by your head and shaking it, the water swishing in your pounding ears.

“just water,” you respond quietly, matching his low tone. “i hope that’s okay.”

“that you took water? of course, y/n,” he says, amusement in his gaze as he looks you over.

you’re freshly showered and in a pair of pajamas, matching pink sets that eunbi got you for christmas one year - he remembers because he was with her when she bought it.

a soft smile crosses your face, your back getting cold from the open fridge but not daring to move a muscle. not with him looking at you the way he is and with his body just a few feet away from you.

a silence lingers in the kitchen, you not sure why he’s looking at you and him waiting to see if you say something, before he bites the inside of his cheek.

“i wanted to say sorry about before.”

your eyebrow quirks up, interest so clearly peaked as you cock your head to the side.

“what do you mean?”

a smirk crosses his face as he watches you play dumb, head cocked and eyes wide and everything about you with such mock innocence, he thinks that’s what’s driving him the most crazy.

that you do this shit and say certain things with almost complete unawareness and innocence, if it weren’t for the hidden look of desire and teasing in your eyes.

“you know,” is all he says, his voice dipping and eyes twinging darker, it makes your lower stomach swoop.

a part of is positive, even if you ask, he’s not gonna say it aloud.

he’s not gonna say or acknowledge any of this aloud and make you guys play this game until you leave in a few weeks.

and then when you leave, unsure about your next prospects of college or education or even living arrangements, who knows if you’re ever gonna see him again.

so you only hum lowly, closing the fridge behind you and leaving you both in darkness. the only source of light is from the moon outside, lighting up half the kitchen from the large bay window.

it leaves you both incredibly exposed, anyone from the outside able to see the two seemingly innocent bodies standing toe to toe with each other; but they don’t see the lustful looks and eyes full of desire, both of you so entrapped by the other, it’s obvious with the tension in the air.

“oh, well, then... it’s okay, mr. park,” you say with a smile, taking a step back as your eyes roam his chest one last time. “i didn’t mind.”

you’re about to say goodnight when you see his arm reach out, shocked but oh, so ready ready to give into your desire and feel your body crash against his or your lips connect finally.

moan into his mouth and feel more of his hardness against you - but he only takes the water from your hand, presses his mouth against the plastic rim and swigs down a big gulp.

you watch with wide eyes as his adam’s apple bobs in the moonlight, head tipped back and body perched calmly on the counter as he takes a swig of your water bottle, spit exchanged and his mouth right where yours was.

he pulls back with an unreadable expression, licking the excess water from his lips before simply closing the cap, holding out the bottle and smiling at you with the most wise-ass smirk you’ve ever seen, you’re not sure how you’re ever gonna one up this man.

"sweet dreams, y/n.”

strike 3:

your new years weekend get away turned into an extended stay that consisted of sleeping on a lumpy air mattress, five extra guests and so much alcohol, you’re positive you’re still hungover three days later.

“it wasn’t that... we only did a... i mean it wasn’t like we were....” eunbi says, the two of you laying on her bed nursing headaches and body aches to the severest degree.

“okay, it was pretty bad. we were kind of rowdy and out of control.”

“you don’t say?” you grumble, never one to black out and get that shit faced and then doing it nearly every night - maybe to deal with danny’s pathetic soft looks or whispered sweet nothings to you.

“nothing is working either. not advil or water or greasy food. we might’ve fucked ourselves for life, bi.”

but if there’s one thing that always helped for eunbi, it was a nice, long bath. steaming hot water that burned her skin and the prettiest bath bombs to make the entire bathroom smell of strawberries and cream.

so even though you didn’t want to, nothing more comfortable than eunbi’s king size bed and warm, fluffy comforter, you allowed the girl to drag you to the bathroom down the hall to set up ‘your last resort, hangover paradise.’

it consisted of every type of bath bomb and lotion and bubble bath the luxurious could dream of, sending her out immediately when you saw her sneaking in with a glass of champagne.

“are you crazy?” you ask, dipping your toe in the water to test the temperature. “that’s what started this disaster.”

“fine, more for me!” she squeals happily, turning down the lights and pressing the bluetooth button for your phone’s music. “enjoy. i’ll see you in an hour, completely hangover free.”

“we’ll see about that,” you grumble, your words falling on deaf ears as she locks and closes the door to makes her way back to her ensuite.

and as much as you wanna give eunbi shit for her pompous tactics and techniques for everything in life, you have to say that this is certainly helping.

soaking in the steaming hot water, with cucumbers on your eyes and quiet music playing through the ceiling speakers. the jets in the tub also added another layer of relaxation to it, healing your sore muscles from days of waking up on a hard, wooden floor.

the mirrors were steamed and the room was boiling by the time you got out, stepping on the fuzzy bath mat and drying yourself off with a towel. you had tried not to get your hair wet but it proved useless, your relaxed body sinking further and further down until nearly your whole head was wet.

you stretch your arms above your head as you let out a content groan, feeling the best you’ve felt in three days and ready to take a nap.

but it’s at that moment, looking around the large steaming bathroom, that you realized you didn’t bring a change of clothes in. meaning you’ll know have to walk done the hall and into eunbi’s room in just a towel.

it’s fairly late, almost 11:30, so you’re hoping that her parents are in their rooms and fast asleep by now.

you peak your head out, feeling like a spy in a cheesy action movie as you look up and down the hall. you turn off the light once the coast is clear, walking quietly but quickly down to eunbi’s room - or wing, as it could be considered

you’re almost out of the gate, just a few more steps until you round the corner down eunbi’s hallway, when seonghwa’s tall figure is coming right up the stairs.

his head is down as he looks at his phone, still in his dress shirt and tie from his long day at work. you noticed that after the holidays, he’s been around the house less - working from home when he can but also needing to go into the office more often than not.

he’s at the top of the stairs when he finally notices your figure watching him, wrapped in a towel with a flush on your cheeks and your wet hair dripping on the floor.

it seems to be the thing to break him right now, not able to tear his eyes away or think of any fun, flirty comments to keep you from suppressing the need to roll your eyes.

because his days have been long and stressful and the only thing he needs right now is to just get off - and then there you are like something his prayers have answered, standing there quiet and awestruck at the sight of his loose tie and messy black hair he’s been running his hands through all day.

“h-hi, mr. park,” your quiet voice says, sweet and soft-spoken and utterly apologetic, like you’re embarrassed to be caught in just your towel - and he supposes that would make sense, to feel embarrassed about getting caught like this your friend’s father.

but he can’t find it in himself to care right now, two seconds away from dragging you down to his office so he can finally fuck you over his desk - but he knows that would be the worst decision in the world, for countless reasons.

“hi, y/n,” he grumbles back just as low, leant against the railing with a voice that sounds defeated and gruff.

“are you okay?” you ask, something about his voice and demeanor off.

he has to hold back a strangled laugh, his lips quirking up before he bites down on his lip.

“i’m... i’m fine, thanks. work’s just busy,” he says, a certain part of his chest warming at the fact you even asked - he knows his wife won’t when he walks in their bedroom in a few minutes.

“oh, okay,” you respond, twirling with the end of your towel nervously. “well... i’m sorry to hear that.”

he allows himself to let out a chuckle this time, shaking his head as he looks over your bare, wet face; you’re too pretty for your own good, he’s not even sure you realize just how pretty you are.

just how much he really wants you and just how much he’s coming to like seeing you in his house everyday.

“it’s alright, that’s why you gotta do something you love, right?” he quips, his long fingers up to recreate a camera, pressing down as if to snap a photo.

it cause you to let out a soft, genuine giggle, nodding your head and easing the slight embarrassment of him catching you in a towel.

“right,” you say with a smile, shy smiles and gazes shared until you finally look away in fear of your cheeks warming again.

but it doesn’t stop him from admiring the view of you, your bare face and exposed chest before the towel covers up all the parts he wants to so desperately explore.

he pictures dropping your towel and hearing it fall to the floor with a plop, take in the sight of your perky boobs and hard nipples in the air.

drop his mouth just a little bit to your neck, pressing small kisses against your skin as his fingers knead your nipples, all the quiet moans and breaths to make sure you two don’t get caught shooting right to his cock.

he probably wouldn’t be able to control himself, sliding a finger into you right then and there in the middle of the hallway, pressing your back against the wall to have you trapped against his larger body.

he’d pump his finger in and out of you slowly and tauntingly, hearing how wet you are and feeling how tight you are. it’d be similiar to how this past month has just been both of you taunting and teasing and beating around the bush, occasionally letting his fingers curl to his your g-spot or graze your sensitive clit.

and then he’d drop to his knees to taste you. make sure he sucks and licks and takes your clit in his warm mouth that you’re-

“i should get back to eunbi,” you finally say, breaking the silence and ripping him from his dirty, hidden fantasies. you can’t take the lust and desire in his eyes that you see when he looks at you, an painful ache building between your legs more and more.

“goodnight, mr. park.”

you nearly run into eunbi’s room and slam the door had you not seen her sleeping form, passed out right there in the middle of her bed wearing a baby pink robe.

you look beside her to see an extra one laid out, a silky lilac one that causes a small smile to cross your face.

you’ve never felt material like this on your skin, basking in the feeling of the smooth, silky material as you clean up her room quietly - both to tidy up and distract you from the ache in your legs and last encounter with her father.

for eunbi growing up with housekeepers and nannies her whole life, it always surprised you how clean and tidy your roommate was; the sink was never full of dishes and you alternated vacuuming the living room carpet.

but it’s obvious all of that is a facade because since the moment she got home, her messy ways have shown through - you find it endearing, though, and it’s all very eunbi: a homey, lived in mess of luxurious items and articles of clothing worth more than your childhood home.

the girl in question had moved to the right side in her sleep as you cleaned, a quiet chuckle leaving your mouth. you look to see both your water bottles are empty, deciding on the brave decision to go downstairs to grab two new ones.

the last time you’d done that, you thought for sure mr. park was gonna jump your bones - and you know you were gonna let him.

your mind is littered with memories of that night as you make your way through the dark house of twists and turns, carefully going down the stairs as you walk toward the kitchen.

there’s a room with beautiful double doors on your left, a room you’ve walked past hundreds of times throughout your stay here. eunbi told you it was her dad’s first floor office, where he usually worked and had his meetings from home.

the first thing you notice from down the hall is that the door is slightly cracked open, a peak in from the dimly lit kitchen showcasing some fancy decor of a globe.

as you make your way closer and closer, your ears are met with a quiet, strangled groan that causes you to stop in your tracks; your mind begins to race with a million different scenarios of what you could be walking past right now.

your first thought is that you’re about to see mr. and mrs. park in a very compromising position over his desk - and, as sick as it sounds, as delusional and crazy and absurd as it sounds, that prospect makes your stomach sink and twist painfully.

but that would be normal, you suppose; they’re a fucking married couple after all and seonghwa had seemed stressed from work. obviously he was gonna ask his wife to help calm him down and relax him.

get all of his stress out in the form of-

you shake your head before you can even think about it, forcing your feet to move past the office doors.

and it’s like you can’t even stop yourself from peeking in, confirming to see if your thoughts are correct and you’re about to be gutted, when you take in the sight before you.

seonghwa still in his loose tie and white dress shirt, pants around his ankles and his head thrown back in his office chair as his own hand jerks his cock off.

everything about it is dirty and wrong and you know you shouldn’t be looking in but you can’t stop.

you can’t stop watching the way his hand works around his cock expertly, long and thick and so fucking nice it nearly makes you drool. the thought of you on your knees before him, taking him in your mouth and licking and sucking around the tip, making you bite back a moan.

you can’t stop your eyes from looking at his face, his head thrown back and eyes squeezed shut with his neck on display - perfect for you to bite and give hickies, if you were on top straddling him.

you can’t stop the painful ache and wetness seeping in your thong as you watch him get off, his groans and grunts and heavy breaths making you wanna whine out in arousal.

and it’s that suppression right there, getting so worked up and horny over the sight of your peeping tina activities, that cause you to pull yourself away.

because as much as you don’t want to and as much as you wanna help him, you can’t.

you can only scramble into the kitchen and get water as fast and quiet as humanly possible, scurrying past the office and up the stairs with the stealthiness of a lion.

you can only lay in bed with the thoughts of your roommate’s father and the noises he makes, the sight of his cock and the hand movements replaying over and over in your mind.

and you realize that night, with only a few more days until you both have to leave for the spring semester, you can only hope to never see mr. park again.

let this flirtation and fascination and utterly screwed up infatuation with your roommate’s dad be nothing but a dirty memory you’ll keep to yourself for the rest of your life.

because if it’s not, if you have to see him again and have him in your daily life again, you won’t be able to hold yourself back.

your lust will turn deeper and you’ll find yourself in a much bigger issue than damp underwear and secret, forbidden moments with mr. park seonghwa.

you should’ve known with only two days left of your stay that eunbi was gonna let the news slip.

you were at least grateful for the fact that mrs. park had a charity ball with her clan of “botox getting, bitchy sounding gold diggers who need to desperately get laid,” successfully riding her of your last friday night dinner.

“so you girls don’t want a new apartment then?” seonghwa asked, glass of wine in his hand as he looks at the two of you questioningly. “that building’s looking for a new owner, eunbi, i think it’d be perfect for you both.”

“dad don’t be ridiculous, we can’t own the building!” eunbi says, swatting her dad playfully as she shovels a piece of food in her mouth. she’s casual and comfortable without her mom’s prying eyes and biting tone, her foot resting on the white fabric beneath her.

“and besides, i might be alone in there soon. we still don’t know if y/n is gonna be starting her-”

you kick the girl under the table roughly, her face pulling into a wince as a cry leaves her mouth.

“ow, y/n! what the he-”

but it’s upon seeing your white face and annoyed expression that she realizes what she said, her mouth falling open and silent as she looks at you apologetically.

“oh shit...”

you can only shoot her a pained, sarcastic smile, daringly looking at seonghwa who’s watching the two of you with a curious expression.

“what do you mean?”

silence hangs in the air, you and eunbi sharing side eyes and dejected looks with her dad before he cocks an eyebrow at the both of you.

“girls... what do you mean?” he asks, his voice deeper and more serious, taking on a dad-like tone eunbi isn’t used to hearing from her relaxed, playful father.

and that’s when, before eunbi can open her big mouth any further, you calmly and regretfully explain the situation with your scholarship.

how you got an e-mail a few months ago about alternate funding for the art department and that you were one of the many students who, while keeping up your end of requirements, could not be awarded money.

“it’s awful that they can do that,” seonghwa says, his eyes full of the same sympathy and outrage eunbi’s held - except he knows that this happens all the time. that it’s unfair and sick and a big ploy in the education system that needs incredible reform.

especially when it hurts students like you.

“yeah but it is what it is,” you say, trying your hardest to steer the conversation to literally anything but this (in fear that you’ll scream or start crying or have yet another anxiety attack).

“i can just finish up in the fall, it’s no big deal,” you lie through our teeth, a sad smile on your face as you look at eunbi. “i’m just sorry it messes up our combined graduation party.”

a frown crosses eunbi’s face as she smacks you in the arm, pulling you closer to her just so she could cuddle herself into your arm.

“i will wait for you,” she proclaims dramatically, a pout on her lips and starry-eyed look in her gaze. “i will wait as long as i have to. if they delay it any further, father, you will simply have to sue the school.”

“father, huh?” seonghwa hums lowly, his lips quirking into a smirk.

father is the term eunbi uses when she wants to use him and his money, whether it be blackmailing unfair teachers or shitty students or calling for him when her and her mom are fighting.

“yes, father,” she says, looking to you with a sweet, apologetic smile on her face.

“i’m serious, y/n. we got your back,” she quips with a wink, a pained smile on your face that she knows means you can’t wait to let her have it when you two are alone.

“you had one job, eunbi, and you were doing so good,” you say in her room later that night, pacing back and forth as she sits on her bed like a scolded child. “literally two nights left and you let it slip out!”

“i’m sorry, okay!” she whines for the ninth time, a pout on her face as she plays with fingers; you wanna roll your eyes seeing it, knowing for a fact that’s something she does when she’s in trouble with jiwoon.

“i didn’t mean to, it just slipped out!” she begins to defend, “and it was only my dad! he wouldn’t dare say a bad word about you, y/n, he loves you.”

you ignore the twinge in your chest when you hear her say those words, feeling a tad guilty at the bodily reaction you have about her own father. how much you’re hiding from her and that you have these suppressed feelings and secret moments in the first place.

“loves me or not, bad word or not, it’s still embarrassing, eunbi,” you say, a frown on your lips as you start to hear the situation aloud.

“i still can’t pay for my tuition and have to wait almost a whole year to take a degree in fucking photography. like how embarrassing is that, all of this just for me never find a job and live in a box.”

you’ve only seen a flash of anger on eunbi’s face a few times in your life, the incident with the dorm girls and her dad and when a sorority girl tried to kiss jiwoon at the bar.

and you see it right now, her small but mighty frame jumping off the bed and lunging toward you quickly.

“are you kidding me!” she squeals, smacking you in the arm and pushing you down on the bed.

“what the hell do you mean a degree in fucking photography? or living in a box? you’re gonna be the best photographer in the world and shoot every event in my life and charge me quadruple the amount!”

a smile pulls at your lips as you hear her go on and on, hype you up and build up your confidence and tell you to never talk that way about yourself again. how there’s nothing embarrassing about not being able to afford thousands of dollars when you were alerted about the expense on such short notice.

“okay, okay, i know that,” you eventually give in, letting out a sigh as you flop down on her bed. “it’s just.... stressful. i can’t move back home but i also need to get like, a real job. a job that’s gonna pay well so i can save up as much as possible.”

“and we’ll find you that when we get back,” she says, assuring with a confident look in her eye and her hands in yours. “i can promise you, with or without my father’s connections, we’re getting you a job.”

her words prove to reassure you for the remainder of the night, when, after she kisses your ass a little more, asks if she can go to jiwoon’s for a little.

you spent that time in her room looking at nearby job offerings and building up your resume and cover letters, working well into the night hours with a text from jiwoon that she fell asleep and will be back in the morning.

you stretch your arms above your head with a quiet groan, noting it’s almost one o’clock and you’re fucking parched yet again.

it’s no surprise to you when the lights in the kitchen are on, dimly light and no noise around as you pad your way to the fridge.

you almost expect the footsteps that come in a few moments later, when you take a sip from your water and close the fridge without hesitation.

“have you told your parents about tuition?”

you’re confused by the statement that leaves seonghwa’s mouth, brows pulled together and a sinking feeling in your stomach at this conversation again - because as if tuition wasn’t enough, he just had to bring up your parents.

but you don’t wanna beat around the bush any longer; you two seem to do that enough.

“me and my parents don’t talk,” you say, straight forward and quiet as you look right at him.

it’s the first time he sees you look a little broken and defeated, a certain kind of sadness shining behind your eyes that makes him wanna pull him into you. it feels like a protective instinct he’s used to, caring for the people in his life and not wanting to see them struggle.

“they wouldn’t help me anyway.”

this protective instinct feels a little different in this moment, something else tugging in his chest that he hasn’t felt in a very long time - not until he started seeing you more.

“but it’d be a shame if you didn’t finish, y/n. you got so far and you’ve done so well for yourself.”

you smile a little at the praise, tongue rolling over your lips in a way he certainly doesn’t miss - but this moment isn’t about that. it’s not something he cares even a little bit about right now.

“thank you, mr. park, but i am gonna finish,” you say with finality, the confident and sure tone making a strange sort of pride swell inside of him.

“i just have to save up money and i’ll start in the fall. it’s really not that big of a deal,” you tell him with a smile, taking a few steps back so you don’t feel too crowded by him.

“eunbi’s gonna help me look for jobs when i get back,” you say, a teasing smile pulling at your lips as you look at him. “a big girl job. something real and hard, that’s gonna make me super stressed and agitated.”

so much so that i have to get off at the thought of you.

a deep chuckle bubbles out of him that you match with ease, the two of you sharing small smiles and quiet giggles in the middle of this spotless, white kitchen.

“can’t do what you love quite yet, i guess,” seonghwa says, his eyes roaming your face so slowly and carefully, it makes you a tad bit nervous.

you hadn’t realized how natural and easy this conversation was between you two, like you were talking to someone you’d known your whole life opposed to someone you’ve barely known for four years.

his hand itches to reach up and touch your hair, tuck the soft, silky looking strand behind your ear and watch your cheeks heat up when your skin touches; but instead, he smiles down at you, inching closer until he’s just looming over you and staring down at you with a soft, undetectable look in his eye.

“but it’ll be worth it in the end, i think. it’s just gonna... take some time.”

you lick over our lips, throat and mouth suddenly so incredibly dry, as you nod your head.

“yeah, i think so, too,” you say, your lips smushing together nervously before you open your mouth to speak again - this could be one of the last times you’re alone with him.

“thank you for letting me stay with you guys, mr. park. it’s been... really nice spending time with people for the holidays.”

he feels his heart twinge in his chest again, his eyes falling down to your lips and swearing he’s never wanted to kiss someone so bad in his life.

“of course, y/n, it’s been a pleasure,” he says, a smile quirking at his lips with a hint of something you just can’t quite make out. “maybe we’ll see each other again soon.”

it was five days before classes started that you got the confirmation e-mail - a message confirming your tuition for the spring semester was paid in full and your current balance was $0.

you had to look over the message for three whole hours making sure you had read the e-mail correctly, even going as far to call the bursar office to make sure they had the correct address.

but they had confirmed with surety that your balance was paid off, urging you to quickly sign up for the classes you need before the day was over.

“okay, you will never believe what interview i was able to score for you,” eunbi says the moment she walks in the apartment, shopping bags up her arm and gucci sunglasses perched atop her head.

“i’ll admit, the vibe was a little off with the coworkers but i think it’d be a great opportunity to-” her eyes catch your laptop screen on the school website, a list of classes and times on your screen that causes her eyes to widen.

“oh?” she squeals, running over and throwing herself down on the couch beside you. “what the heck are you doing? are you... did you...?”

the lie came way too quick and easy to you, excitedly blabbering out that there was a change in the system and your scholarship was approved - “i think they felt bad that i was a graduating senior,” you said, eunbi’s face pulled into the happiest smile you’ve ever seen.

she clapped and danced and bounced around in excitement, proclaiming you guys just had to go out and get drinks to celebrate the fact that your surprise party was back on.

but you could only sit there with your thoughts and suspicions and this overwhelming feeling deep within your stomach that, while eunbi definitely doesn’t know, her father might’ve just paid your college tuition in full.

(part 2)

tag list: @mochibabycakes @atinyarmyx1 @middle-of-a-wonshua-sandwich @baekhvuns @marksflvr @bunbaebae @markleeyeosang @inkigayeo @nlost21 @hyunjeansuniverse @cherryeonii @songsoomin @reeateez @biaswreckingfics @yunhoiseyecandy @sophrosyneeeee @uglychildd @happycandynoelle @seolarjk @liqhtiny @maedesculpaeusoubi @revehosh @svt-mangos @hcwurld @ateezappreciation @sanisms @khjssss @yixing-jaehyun @yeosangs-left-ass-cheek

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#alright here we go again #shes up fr now jfdkvkd #seonghwa #seonghwa angst #seonghwa fluff #seonghwa smut #ateez #ateez fluff #ateez angst #ateez smut #seonghwa scenarios #seonghwa imagines #ateez imagines #ateez scenarios #seonghwa series #ateez series

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timextoxhajima · 4 years ago

Text

Accelerate [Dana’s 600 Special]

Track: Feel It by Michele Morrone / Drunk-Dazed by ENHYPHEN / Insanity by THE BOYZ

Member: I swear he’s not even my bias

Genre: i-ion know-

Word Count: it’s pretty damn long so please don’t make me write a part two

Taglist: @hyunjaethereal @lsangyeons

The first time you laid eyes on Lee Hyunjae, you were both in Italy as he was being blinded by a billion flashes in his face. The light reflects off his dark hair - which was once a brighter color - as he maintains that polite, miniscule smile on his face. Most of the photographers and interviewers were male, for the sole reason that female photographers and interviewers would be too stunned to continue at their job.

Not that the males rushing to get a shot of his face or a string of words out from him now weren’t stunned themselves.

Despite being hailed for looking like every woman’s wet dream, Lee Hyunjae was more known for being South Korea’s youngest first class F1 racer. Sure, if he ever bothered to utter a single syllable of speech to you, you could pass out on the spot.

But right now, all you wanted was to get an exclusive modelling contract from Louis Vuitton to his manager. Not Lee Hyunjae, not his bodyguards, his manager.

“Lee Hyunjae! Do you have anything you want to say before your final race of the season? How do you feel about being so close to coming out top?”

His manager stands a step behind him to Hyunjae’s right, and gives the racer the green light to respond. The flashes and sounds of clicking from the cameras were so overwhelming, it’s impossible for you to even imagine how it felt like being in the spotlight.

But the celebrity couldn’t receive the question any less gracefully, and offers one of those swoon-worthy smiles before leaning into the microphone.

“I feel nervous but I’ve prepared for this. Consistency is key and I believe in myself, so if that answers your question...”

“Do you have any other plan other than racing? Word has it that you’ve received offers to be the face of Gucci and Louis Vuitton!”

The contract in your briefcase is still ironed out safely in its file when you pull it behind your legs, away from plain sight.

Hyunjae turns to look at his manager when the question posed obviously isn’t one of those in the list prepared, so the manager steps forward, and coincidentally spots you at the back of the crowd. He recognises you from the meeting he had with your higher-up.

“My apologies but Mr Lee isn’t permitted to answer to any of these, so if this is all then we must be going. Thank you for coming to the conference tonight.”

Lee Hyunjae and his manager step back away from the microphone and bow for the press to continue their aggressive, merciless snapshotting. You wait patiently for the duo to disappear behind the conference area, and for the press to switch their attention to the pictures they have on their camera before you make your round backstage.

The 5-star hotel is grand in all the ways possible: chandelier, white wines and champagnes being served in waiting areas and water was served sparkling. Finally fishing out the tag that you were given at the registration for entry to the event, you hand it to the lady at the meetings’ conference registration counter.

You wonder how the Louis Vuitton logos on your clothes and briefcase had gone unnoticed earlier at the showcase. Even on the tag, the ‘LV’ logo was so apparent. How far does the company need to go in order for them to have the logo printed in some shiny, golden print on the tag-

“Welcome to the F1 internal press conference and meeting, Miss l/n!” She pulls a sticker off a page and presses it onto the tag below the LV logo. “If you need anything at all, please just approach one of our staffs. All waiters and staff concerned will have a red tie tonight.”

“Alright, thank you,” The tag gets slid across the table to you. “Where’s the nearest washroom?”

“Oh, she’ll show you the way,” The lady gestures behind her for one of the staff members with a red tie to accompany you.

“Oh-” Slightly taken aback by the aggressive escorting, the younger female grins at you before holding out her arm in the direction of the washroom. “Thanks.”

The hotel’s grandeur only gets more and more apparent as your heels click through the hallways and corridors. For an event night, the hotel’s pretty desolate. Then again, the press conference happened outside where all the photographers and journalists were. The one you were here for was an internal press meeting, and last you checked, there were fewer than 10 names on that list.

“I can find my way back to the main hall after,” The slight panic in your voice humors you when the staff member seemed ready to wait outside the washroom. “Thanks.”

She bows and takes her leave only after you enter the bathroom; you can tell from the sound of her shoes echoing down the corridor. The scent of lavender is so overwhelming, you could almost taste it. Walls of cream and silver strokes cut through the tiles, a vase made of bronze sits in the corner of the platform where the sinks were, filled with roses.

The crisp reflection of yourself stares down at you in the mirror; it’s one of the few times you were dressed in branded goods head to toe. None of the articles of clothing you were wearing right now, you owned. Usually, you’d be gaping in awe at how beautiful these places where - after all, you were in a five-star hotel in Italy.

But no, after almost five years of working with Louis Vuitton as a brand ambassador and subsequently becoming an assistant model-scout has numbed your habit of wandering eyes.

The LV briefcase gets set on a dry area of marble, your fingers automatically clutching the edges of the sink as the jewelry on your ears, neck and hands twinkle under the fluorescent lighting. The makeup looks close to perfect - because someone had done it for you. Your clothes and shoes fit right down to your skin - because they were tailored for you.

You were more upset you couldn’t sell it off and donate the money over having actual ownership of these fabrics.

News of the orphanage had reached you hours after you touched down in Italy, and your heart yearns to stop the ache that seeps through you. They had run out of funds to continue the orphanage, the kids already enrolled would be split and sent to other organizations instead.

What you had once called your home was going to be non-existent in another years’ time. Those whom you called your teachers, mentors, parents... were going to be in places you were not familiar with. The children that you always bring back food, clothes and toys for were going to be separated into different cities and states. As if not having a family was not bad enough, the people you now called your family was going to be split apart.

You hadn’t noticed your eyes were closed until you opened them, the weight of the makeup on your face urging you to rub your eyes and skin but the discipline written into your hands stop you from doing so.

Standing back to fix your posture, your eyes land on the one garnish on your body that doesn’t belong to Louis Vuitton - the ring on your middle finger. A gold band that looked more like a wedding ring than anything else.

It had the name of the orphanage engraved on the inner side, so it feels lighter on your hands than it would otherwise be.

A deep breath expands your chest as you take your briefcase and step away from the sink, attention scrutinising yourself more than you actually would.

The corridors of the hotel collect you back into its wealth again, drawing the thickest line between the realities of people like you and those who enjoy the luxurious life.

The racer’s manager was sitting at the end of the meeting table when you enter, and you immediately recognise half the list of names you had seen before. Gucci’s manager was here personally. Another racer and his manager were here too. Stefano Domenicali and Michael Masi were here.

Why were they here? Their names weren’t on the list.

“Ah, Miss l/n!” Masi gets off his seat and holds out his hand. “Such a pleasure to meet you!”

“Honor on my part,” Reaching out a palm, you smile the most graceful smile you can find in the muscles of your face.

“Can I get you a drink? We’re still waiting for Mr Lee before we begin our discussion on the collaboration.”

Collaboration?

“Pardon my ignorance but... I thought I was here for a sponsorship or a model-contract request for Mr Lee... I wasn’t expecting your attendance or... a collaboration.”

Domenicalli chuckles heartily at his seat as he whirls around to gesture to one of the staff members in the room. “Will you get her a Mojito?”

Then he stands up and pushes his glasses up his nose bridge. “We’ve been looking for a company that’s willing to do a three-way partnership with us and Mr Lee’s agency. Right now, it’s boiled down to both Louis Vuitton and Gucci so... it depends on which contract Mr Lee’s agency is more interested in.”

“Oh... Um, if that’s the case then I’m not entirely sure if the contract I have with me right now is appropriate-”

“Oh, it’s not. LV has already told us you’d sell them better unscripted than if planned,” Masi leans forward and mutters away from your ear. “Don’t tell Gucci though. Their manager’s only here because they panicked.”

He pulls away and before he can say anything else, the door clicks open with a staff member pushing the door open for the star of the night.

“My apologies,” He’s changed out of his formal suit and is in a more comfortable set of hoodie and baggy pants now. “Did I keep everybody waiting?”

“No, not at all!” Masi throws his hands up into the air and beckons you to meet Lee Hyunjae. “Might I introduce... Miss l/n from LV. She’ll be the one pitching the collaboration for LV today.”

Hyunjae’s eyes are wide and clear, despite his fringe covering his eyelids. “My pleasure,” He holds out his hand and you take it to shake, but he doesn’t stop there.

Lifting the back of your hand to his lips, the contact is soft and gentle on your skin.

Your hairs stand against your will and goosebumps erupt all over your neck when he pulls away, eyes now locked with yours. Nobody else in the room bothers to provide a reaction - it’s like he’s done this before and it’s perfectly normal.

The rest of the evening is spent listening to your own pitch, and Gucci’s, but you couldn’t really keep your head in the game when... all that was in Lee Hyunjae’s head was... you.

You’d be lying had you said you were comfortable with how much he was glancing at you across the table, obviously not listening to Gucci’s pitch at all. His manager was the one busy jotting down all kinds of things, almost like it was an act of dictation. But the racer’s eyes fail to leave you for any longer than five seconds, and it was becoming glaringly obvious that he wasn’t really paying attention to the pitch.

Gucci’s pitch finally finishes, giving you some kind of escape because now his manager is pummeling him for not listening to the benefits provided as Gucci’s ambassador. The contract document from LV was sitting before you, very single term and condition now inapplicable because you had just pitched something that wasn’t in the instruction manual.

God help me not to get fired.

“Mr Lee has some to a decision,” Masi claps his hands together, earning the attention of everybody in the room. “The Formula One federation would like to officially welcome Lee Hyunjae as the brand ambassador in a stellar collaboration... with Gucci.”

The Gucci ambassador scout smiles with triumph as the room provides a round of applause, you included.

“Thank you so much, Miss l/n, for coming down. Your pitch was nothing short of commendable and I will make sure your manager will hear of that, alright?” Masi and Domenicali take turns shaking your hand. In your peripheral vision, you watch the Gucci ambassador shake hands with both Lee Hyunjae and his manager.

Masi and Domenicali finish up with you, and Lee Hyunjae’s manager approaches you for the handshake with his client behind him. “That was a stellar... impromptu pitch, Miss l/n.”

A gentle chuckle rolls off your tongue as you pull your hand away, tightly clutching the briefcase. “I work better when things aren’t planned, so...”

“We’ll... we’ll keep in touch, LV. You’re an excellent scout with marvelous presentation skills. It makes me sad Mr Lee didn’t choose you.”

Your eyes drift to Hyunjae’s and he’s already looking at you like he hadn’t eaten in three days and you were a bowl of soup.

“Of course we’ll keep in touch. He’ll still be valuable asset and ambassador after his contract with Gucci ends,” Ignoring him, you return your attention to his manager.

“Now, let’s hope the Prince of Korea doesn’t screw anything up, yeah?” His manager grins as he pats Hyunjae on the back. “Anyway, it’s been a mighty pleasure. We’ll be in touch.”

You lower your head as a small nod, turning on your heels to exit the room. Even then you can feel his eyes on your back.

By the time you’re back in your hotel room (which was in the same hotel as you had the internal meeting), your feet are half dead from the heels you were wearing and the makeup on your face was starting to wear off. It took a nice, warm bath and a rather long conversation with your own manager on the phone as he congratulated on pulling through an impromptu pitch.

He finally finishes, and you drop your phone into the towel by the bathtub as the steam fogs up the mirror. But your peace is cut short when someone rings the doorbell of your room.

“Room service for Miss l/n!”

Tightening the robe around your waist, you pull open the door and watch the hotel staff hold out a bottle of wine and an envelop. “Mr Lee Hyunjae sends his regards, Miss.”

Surprised, you receive the bottle. The hotel staff bows and leaves, letting you turn around and the door click shut.

To: Miss l/n

I apologise for the inappropriate staring earlier this evening. This is an attempt to compensate for my behaviour. I’ll be leaving Italy the day after tomorrow so if you could do me the pleasure of having dinner with me tomorrow... I’d like to be acquainted.

I’ve made a reservation at La Terrazza for 7pm. I’ll meet you in the guest lobby downstairs at 6.30 to pick you up.

Love,

Lee Hyunjae

You can see how the material of the paper trembles a little between your fingers. The thought runs, So he’s a creep and a national treasure. He can’t hurt you, right?

Again, the evening gown is more than fitting on you. It’s been tailored to hug all your curves at your chest and your hips and thighs and it exposes your leg where the slit is. It’s like LV knew you had an important evening appointment coming up and had you pack all these different sets appropriate for the event.

The usher standing by the guest lobby nods when you head for the door, and he pushes it open to reveal only one person in it: Lee Hyunjae.

On the phone, he whirls around when he hears the doors swish against the carpet flooring. His eyes are glimmering under the soft, rosy lighting and the glossy collar of his suit looks like plastic from the reflection.

“I gotta go, I’ll call you back.”

The phone clicks to black before he opens his blazer and slides it into his inner breast pocket.

“I’m gonna guess that’s your manager,” Your fingers wrap around the clutch tightly as he takes a few steps toward you, obviously very stunned by how different you looked compared from the previous day.

“Uh, no, actually,” That million-dollar smile gleams at you. He reaches up to his forehead and scratches his brow. His hair is styled upwards so seeing the glory of his forehead was pretty enticing. “My mom. Making sure I’m doing well and fine here.”

He stops a safe distance away from you, finished with taking in whatever of you his eyes and memory can allow him. “Not gonna lie, I thought you were gonna stand me up.”

“I think LV would fire me if they knew I stood the Lee Hyunjae up.”

Hyunjae licks his lips then purses them together, attention finally peeling off your face as he reaches for your hand. He presses his lips into the back of your palm, then casually hooks your arm around his while he walks to your side. “Ready to go?”

At a loss of words for his flirtatious mannerism, all you can afford is a nod.

But as if your vocabulary bank wasn’t already exhausted, you can’t help but stare in complete astonishment when you are led to the matte black Sian Roadster already waiting at the drop-off point right outside the lobby.

“Have them send the Dior package to Miss l/n’s room by 9pm,” He instructs the bell boy by the hotel entrance as he reaches for the vehicle door.

“Wait, what?”

“Yes, Mr Lee.”

“Thanks.”

“Wait a minute,” Your vision is finally peeled off the car when Lee Hyunjae pulls the door open. “What Dior package?”

“Just a token of appreciation from me, that’s all,” He releases your arm as he guides you into the vehicle. “I knew if I gave it to you over dinner, you’d reject, so...”

Twitching his eyebrow, he smirks and retreats, closing the car door.

Flirt.

The vehicle moves off with a sharp rev of the engine, and you almost feel guilty for being able to be comfortable in in your clothes, shoes, sports car and on the way to a fancy-ass restaurant.

If only things could be like that for everybody and everything.

“So, when are you leaving Italy?”

“Oh, um... tomorrow too actually,” Rome’s lights are wondrous on the outside, some of them blinding you. “I have... something to attend.”

“Hmm, that’s... vague.”

You turn to eye him at his silent call for clarification. “I’m attending a closing event; help out with administrations.”

“Like... a pet store or something?”

“Yeah, ‘or something’.”

“That confidential, huh?” He lets out a soft chuckle.

The gut in your abdomen tells you not to look at him. He’ll see right through you, figure out that there’s something more to it than something ‘confidential’.

“Yeah,” You mask it with a sigh. “Funds and things.”

You can feel his attention sink into your back as silence befell the atmosphere.

There’s a kind of light in his eyes when he talks about racing. When he’s describing the feeling of adrenaline in his fingers, gripped around the steering wheel. He’s unexpectedly kind to the service at the restaurant, then again he was a celebrity and he had a reputation to uphold.

It’s the kind of light that made you panic throughout dinner, because there’s no way this specimen of a man would ever pay you a second thought. Maybe you were going to be his Italy fling that he would boast about to his friends and colleagues and they’d laugh at you without you even knowing.

What was a rich, handsome racer even doing, single? It was too good to be true, and even if it was, you? Of all people?

Dream on.

“It’s been... an amazing night. Thank you so much for dinner.”

Lee Hyunjae walks you into the lift, letting you press the button to your floor first.

“I’ll walk you back. I have time.”

Standing with your feet together, in the safety of your gown, your hands are holding your clutch like your life depended on it. You could tell that he wasn’t the most comfortable now, not with his hands over one another and placed politely on his abdomen.

When the lift door dings open, the silence remains. He trails behind you as you walk your way to your room, hands fumbling through your clutch to search for your keycard. The slick of the door is fast and you push the door open, with a black and silver box with the label ‘DIOR’ printed on it sitting at the foot of your bed.

“Oh, my God!” You rush in and grab the box, eyes widening as you turn to him, who has one arm extended to keep the door open. The box was almost as big as a pillow.

There’s a soft, warm smile on his face. A stark contrast to all his flirty ministrations throughout the evening. “Goodnight, Miss l/n. Sleep well and have a safe flight.”

“Wha-” Then he lowers his head, and turns around. “Wait!”

Without another moment of hesitation, he disappears down the corridor and the door swings shut.

It feels ironically empty. Your hands are carrying this Godforsaken box of a gift and yet you cannot think of a way to properly thank the person who gave it to you. With slight reluctance, your fingers find the edge of the cover.

It’s a beautiful Dior blazer, packaged with a perfume and a cosmetics set. The cream letter in it is handwritten and signed the racer himself.

I wish we had more time. Love, Lee Hyunjae

The nauseating sensation of your heart sinking in your chest beats all the logic in your brain when you find yourself reaching for the door handle. The box is mindlessly thrown back onto the bed as you rush out, kicking off your heels in the moment of folly. (Of course, remembering to use the door latch to keep the door open.)

“Hyunjae!” You call down the corridor, and he was just about to enter the lift. He turns, providing you with a gorgeous view of his jaw.

It feels like a fairytale, when you run down the carpeted corridor, barefooted and still in your gown. The urge to throw your arms around him far supercedes your brain yelling at you not to, but you do it anyway.

He catches you by the waist as your rest your forehead in his blazer, arms already struggling to meet the height of his shoulders.

A whisper. “I wish we had more time too.”

He pushes you back by your upper arms, tucking one bit of your hair behind your ear. “If time is what you want, then I’ll make time.”

“But... I- Will you get in trouble?”

He looks you dead in the eye and subtly shakes his head.

Time stops.

Fear. That’s what you’re feeling.

Then he tilts his head and slowly leans in.

“I don’t think I’d care if I do.”

His breath hits your upper lip and your instincts flutter your lids shut.

White wine and strawberries from dinner. That’s what he tastes like.

Warmth radiates off his palms and into your cheeks as he holds your face close to his, unable to resist the satisfaction and sweetness you were providing him. In this moment of intimacy, he loses all sense of realism and urgency - all he wants is you to himself, for the rest of the night until the sun rises.

Then he’d have to worry about never seeing you again because his manager had chosen Gucci over LV.

But right now, he has your heart and soul in his hands, as does his in yours.

Being the romantic and (probably) egoistic man of a celebrity he is, he lowers himself and slides his arms where the back of your knees would be, somehow never breaking the kiss. The material of the gown dribbles over the cotton of his suit and your arm circles behind his neck, only minimizing the distance between the two of you.

It feels like you’re getting married in this black and gold sparkly evening gown when he pushes the door open with his back. The scent of the room is inviting, but definitely none in comparison to the scent of his cologne beginning to stain your hands and your clothes.

Gently resting you into the cool sheets of the bed, he pulls away to remove the Dior package off the bed, placing it on the mini coffee table by the bed.

You were never one to deal with one night stands. Hell, the only person you’d ever slept with was some stupid kid back in the orphanage when your stupid teenage hormones were running-

He pulls off his blazer and leans in again, picking your awkward hands and resting them on the knot of his tie. His fingers are grazing the skin on your upper arm, trailing down to your cheek and then your hairline where he combs his hands through your hair.

The knot on the tie comes undone with some slight tugs, and you slide it out from under his collar. Undoing only the first one, you rest your palms against his chest, creating a small rift where the air rushes to your lips where his should be.

He’s slightly stunned at the slightest breakage, but he is overwhelmed with more care and concern than he was upset. “Why? What’s wrong?” He traces your jaw and rests his fingers on your chin, noses almost touching.

“Are you sure... You want to do this? I can’t risk you losing your career,” Your index finger traces the likes of his cheekbone. “You barely just started.”

Hyunjae shakes his head subtly, taking your hands to his lips and pressing them into the back of your palm. “When I saw you in that room, I was... star struck. You’d think being the celebrity in the room would mean everything, but I felt like I was nothing if I didn’t know you, much less be able to get close to you.”

And for someone who hasn’t really had a biological family to love, his words stuck.

“I just... knew. There are some things in the world you can work for, but I don’t think any amount of effort can give me you.”

His brown orbs find your gaze and it melts you thoroughly. Like ice cream on a hot day; like the way the ocean washes against the sand by the beach, taking grains of sand away with it - the same way Hyunjae was winning you bit by bit, if not already all of you.

Your hands find his collar again, and it tightens around the stiff material to pull him back down. He smiles into the kiss, hands pressing into the mattress by your hair while you undo the rest of his buttons. His skin is hot under the shirt, blood running on the adrenaline and tension he was riding on from the intimacy. Muscles pumped and heart racing, you finally get his shirt off and he does you the honor of dropping it to the ground.

He gives you time to gasp for air while he dips his nose into your neck, inhaling your perfume and the scent of the hotel shampoo in your hair. His back muscles tense up under your cold fingertips as you run them along his spine. It’s almost beast-like, when he flexes his arms and every single move shifts his shoulder blades under his skin. His lips leave gentle pecks in your neck and your exposed collar bone, letting goosebumps erupt all over your skin.

His hand caresses your waist as a way of request, and you arch your back just enough for him to find the zipper on the back of your gown. The vibrations of the zip being pulled downwards already feels like little bolts of electricity up your spine, and the straps around your shoulders loosen with every inch unzipped.

He’s done, when his fingers return to your shoulders to push the straps off. The cool air kisses your skin in spots where he isn’t touching with any part of his body. The silk of the gown gently slides off with every inch of a movement you make, more and more of your torso exposed to him.

Sliding one of his arms under your lower back, he pulls you out of the dress instead of stripping you of it as he helps you further up the bed. Your hands press into the mattress in a bid to help him shift yourself without breaking the sloppy, messy kiss. Your back finally meets the pillows and he pushes the gown off the bed with his leg.

Chin tilting to the ceiling, he finally creates some distance between the two of you, eyes drifting down to your collar bone and chest still covered. His palms are hot around your waist as he trails butterfly pecks on your cleavage, while your fingers find his hair to tousle and grip.

Goosebumps start to surface when his breath is heavy on your stomach, then he reaches your underwear and it’s almost embarrassing to have him kiss you.

Your clouded vision is manually stuck to the ceiling when you can feel your face burning with adrenaline. The tickle of the material when it gets pulled off your hips and down your legs bring your cheeks more color, and before you know it, Hyunjae has your breath hitched in your throat.

He rests your thighs on his shoulders as he works his way around, the bare minimum sanity left inside you decides to grip onto the sheets instead of ripping out his hair.

Chills shoot up your spine mercilessly, emanating in the form of lewd mewls directed into the air. The crown of your head meets the cushioned head board of the bed when his grip on your thighs tighten to keep you from squirming too much.

Without warning, he drags a finger down your sensitiveness and slides it in easily, the sensation erupting a more-than-shameful groan from you. Pulling away, he adds another finger before shifting his attention back to your upper body, now eyeing the last piece of material covering your chest. But he captures your lips first to earn your attention, and your arms naturally find your way around his neck to keep him close.

His free hand goes around your back to unhook your lingerie, and it’s nothing but a new addition to all the clothes on the carpet now. He removes his fingers, and breaks the kiss first, for the sole reason of giving you a perfect view of him licking his glistening skin.

You can feel your brows furrow with frustration now, the warmth from him dissipating when he leans back on his heels in a kneeling position. By providing you a gorgeous view of his being while he undoes his belt, he’s only adding more fire to the fuel.

It’s significant enough to stretch out the material of his boxers, and so he climbs over you as he removes his last bit of clothing. He harshly yanks you downwards into a lying position by your ankle, and the sharp friction against your back is an addition to the heat between the two of you.

His breath is heavy on your lips as he rests his palms by your ears, weight pushing in the mattress. “Tell me if it hurts, love.”

Then he presses his lips into yours, like his life depended on it, and in one swift motion, he buries himself inside you like it was the most natural thing to do.

You suck all the breath out of him as you gasp into the kiss, and he finds your arms to hook around his neck and shoulders.

If you could feel the taste of honey throughout your body, this must be how it feels.

He gives you some moments before he starts grinding his hips slowly, his palms finding your thighs and digging into your flesh as he hooks them around his hips.

Breathless, you pull away first, whimpers in the back of your throat louder than what you would’ve expected. His nose dips into your neck again, arms now stretched out to use the headboard as support when he picks up the pace.

Cursing under your breath, you feel guilty for the bliss that was spreading through you. Your nerves are all heightened by the adrenaline and your vision is blurred from the sole nature of the intimate act.

He’s not fast, but every spot he’s hitting feels like cloud nine over and over again.

Like a spark in the dark, the sacred spot reveals itself in the form of harsher breaths and groans. Your fingernails dig into his back and your thighs are losing stamina to remain wrapped around him.

“That’s it,” He breaths into your ear, pressing a kiss into your lower jaw. “Come for me.”

Tremors burst through your body like lightning in a storm upon his request. He helps you ride it out with a few more thrusts before he pulls out himself, releasing on your stomach, chest heaving.

Resting his forehead on yours, he smiles. “Let’s hope that one day I wouldn’t have to worry about pulling out.”

You scoff, slightly tired. “We’ll see.”

You are woken up by the unfamiliar warmth you normally don’t have under the blanket. White sheets and tousled hair come into your field of vision before you can process the face, partially hidden, but eyes wide open.

“Jesus,” Your morning breath billows out between your lips and you swallow to dampen your dry throat. The room looks too damn bright for it to be morning. “What time is it?”

“7am. Don’t worry, we have plenty of time. My manager hasn’t called me so... we have time to spare.”

You shuffle around under the sheets and your arms slide under the pillow where its cool. He shifts and pulls out his arm to rest on his tricep, palm under his ear and hair as he perches up his head.

“What?” You pull the blanket up to your face and inhale the scent of it. It smells like him now.

“You look pretty when you’re asleep.”

“What?” You frown, but a smile is on your lips. “How long did you watch me sleep for?”

“Not long, don’t worry. I’m not a perv.”

“Well, considering we just slept together after 24 hours of knowing one another-”

“Hey, we’re both about to be deported back to Korea to work. Give us a break, would you?” He groans and shifts again, this time trying to pull you into his chest.

“Ah,” Snorting, you let him cradle you in his arms, his bare skin pressed warmly into yours. “‘Deport’? That’s what you call your job?”

“Only because you’re involved now,” He pecks you on the lips. “So... can I ask about your ‘administrative matters’ you said you needed to attend?”

Right. The orphanage is closing down.

The guilt washes through you again.

“Oh,” A look of seriousness overtakes your facials, and he notes the change in expression. “Um... I- Well... It’s an orphanage. It’s closing.”

He blinks at you, gaze filled with wander. “Were you a volunteer or...?”

Silence.

You can’t bring yourself to say it.

Unable to bear the incoming judgment he might provide you, your eyes dart away.

“Hey, hey,” He finds your chin and tilts it back up to his attention. “What’s wrong? I don’t see anything wrong with being who you are. Why are you ashamed?”

“I... I’ve lived all my life with that label. ‘Orphan’. It only got better when I came out to work.”

“Is that why you are so worried? That... we might affect something and possibly implicate that?”

“Maybe.”

He sighs, thumb stroking your cheek as he shakes his head. “Nah. It shouldn’t matter.” Pulling your head into his chest, you can hear the steady thumping of his heart through his skin. “’Administrative matters’, huh? Are you like a... committee member or donator?”

“I’m an unofficial sponsor ambassador from LV. Well, LV was supposed to arrange for official funding, but they just never really had the time or resources to build the rapport. The orphanage was doing too badly for any company or brand to want to help and invest their attention on.”

“Mm,” He hums, stroking your hair. “I’m sorry about that. I truly am.”

“It’s okay. Nothing could’ve been done about it anyway. All I hope now is for the kids to be safe, no matter where they go.”

It feels empty again, having Hyunjae being ripped from your side at the airport once the plane touched down. The manager was surprisingly not surprised to know that you had spent the night together, the only question he had asked being something that concerned a future pregnancy, which the two of you have already confirmed negative.

It’s late when you reach back your apartment, and you ready yourself for the private meeting with the committee members of the orphanage. Though tired and severely jet-lagged, you cannot miss this meeting. It’s the last time you’ll see all the caretakers and members of the organisation in the same room.

You shift into the taxi in a new set of clothes, but topped with the Dior blazer and smelling like the Dior perfume, you feel like you were probably going to get slapped once you reach the meeting.

The building of the orphanage looks so run-down, it could be mistaken for a prison had it not been for the words HILDA’S ORPHANAGE in big, block letters above the entrance. Before you can exit the taxi, your phone starts vibrating in your purse.

It’s the President of the orphanage.

“I’m right outside the building, going in soon,” You push open the car door and thank the driver.

“The meeting has been cancelled. Someone bought the orphanage and we’ll be managed under a new system.”

“What?”

“Surprise.”

You turn around and see the last person you’d expect to see here, in his hands, a folder of documents and a small bouquet of flowers.

“Um,” Your eyes are stuck to Hyunjae, but you’re still on the phone. “The buyer... Does it have anything to do with Gucci or F1?”

“Yes, it’s an F1 sponsorship but there will be more details into the managerial and planning system. Some things will have to change.”

“I’ll... I’ll call you back.”

Hyunjae watches you lock your phone in shock, attention unrivalled. He takes a few steps towards you and you now realise he’s still in the same clothes he was in on the plane. His eyebags are obvious but the prideful grin on his face makes him glow.

Stopping about an arms’ length away from you, he holds out the folder.

“I checked with my manager and he checked with F1. They green-lit it, but on a few conditions. I heard them out before I told them it would be more likely than not you’d accept it, so here are the legal documents. All the terms and conditions and sponsor contract are already in here, so you and the President can sign it when you deem fit.”

Taking the folder, you didn’t even notice your hands are trembling as you flip through it.

But your eyes flitter up from the page when you notice the printing:

OWNER’S SIGNATURE (Y/N L/N): ____________________

“It’s yours if you sign it.”

Now, he holds out the bouquet. “I thought of putting it under my name but I don’t want you to think you owe me a favour and have it bugging you all the time.”

Gently shaking your head, as if you could shake out the surprise, you close the file and look to him in awe. “But I’ll still owe you, big time. This is... this is everything, so thank you.”

He sucks in a deep breath and shakes the bouquet of flowers a little.

“You can return the favour by going out with me. Properly, whenever I have time, and I promise, no Dior packages.”

Taking the bouquet into hand, you throw your arms around his shoulders, tears welling in your eyes.

#hyunjae #lee hyunjae #hyunjae smut #tbz smut #the boyz smut #the boyz hyunjae #lee hyunjae smut #tbz scenarios #the boyz scenarios #hyunjae scenario #hyunjae fanfic

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mrs-gucci · 4 years ago

Text

Gucci’s Girl [REPOST] {Maurizio Gucci x Reader}

author’s notes: hellooo! I originally wrote this story as an ‘x OC’ because that’s what I was writing at the time, but I decided to change it into an ‘x Reader’ story since that’s what more people like to read!

**I used a translation application for the Italian in this story. Apologies if there are any typos and/or incorrect sentences/grammar. Italian sentences/words are in italics throughout the story with translations after the sentences in parenthesis.

**This is MY OWN INTERPRETATION of Maurizio Gucci’s character, as portrayed by Adam Driver in the upcoming film, House Of Gucci.

warnings: smut. fluff. grinding. multiple orgasms. pretty vanilla sex.

(possible) tw’s: infidelity (he’s engaged, not married).

SMUT under the CUT!

“Tesoro” means “Treasure” in Italian (an affectionate nickname).

“Y/N, will you stay after for a bit?”

Mr. Gucci walks over to your desk.

“I need to ask you something.”

You nod, smiling up at your boss.

“Of course, Mr. Gucci.”

Inside, you were panicking.

He’s never asked you to stay after work before, except on your first day, which made sense. But this doesn’t make sense…

He returns the smile.

“Excellent. Just come to my office.”

You continue to work, faxing and typing away until the clock read five.

Everyone else begins to pack up and bids you farewell as you make your way up to Mr. Gucci’s office.

The wooden door has never looked more intimidating than it does in this moment, as you raise your knuckles and knock.

“Entra in.” (Come in.)

You take a deep breath before you turn the handle, forcing a smile on your face.

He looks so scary and intimidating when he sits at his desk, a fact that, when you told him, made him laugh.

“Ah, yes, Y/N. Come in, sit down.”

The chairs in his office are top-of-the-line, a refreshing change from the less-than luxurious chairs out on the floor.

Mr. Gucci lights a cigarette and takes a drag before standing up and walking around to take a seat in the chair next to you.

When he sees your confused expression, he laughs softly, taking another drag.

“I know you think I look scary sitting back there, and I don’t want you to be scared of me.”

Your eyes go wide.

“O-Oh, that’s not what I meant—“

“I know, tesoro.”

He chuckles, eyes flickering over your face before he speaks again.

“So, the annual House of Gucci Ball is coming up, as you know.”

You nod.

“And, I was wondering...would you want to...come with me?”

Your stomach drops.

“W-What?”

The CEO looks incredibly flustered and anxious, a new look for him.

“My fiancée isn’t feeling well and as the head of the House, I really don’t want to go alone…”

In a bold move, you reach out and gently place your hand over his. He looks up at you, and you smile.

“I’d, uhh, I’d love to go, sir. It would be my pleasure.”

“Great.”

The corners of his lips tug up into a genuine smile and his eyes dart away from yours as he takes another drag.

“I’ll have the company tailor come in tomorrow and take your measurements for a gown. And you’ll come here three hours beforehand in order to have hair and makeup done.”

You’re still partially in shock as he discusses dresses and makeup and hair.

It’s become clear to you over the past few weeks that he has feelings for you, and you think they’re the same feelings that you have for him.

But obviously, neither of you can act on them, no matter how badly you wish you could. He’s set to be married in a few months, and there’s a very strict company policy that forbids relationships between workers and their supervisors.

So, it left this unresolved tension between the two of you, and you literally just agreed to spend an entire night at an event with him.

The reality hits and you feel lightheaded.

Oh my god, I’m going to the company ball with Maurizio Gucci.

Four Weeks Later

The elevator dings and you step out into the now-vacant office. You see several people standing around a portable salon setup, and they all turn to look at you.

“Miss Y/N?”

One of them asks.

You nod.

“Si.” (Yes.)

They quickly sit you down in the chair and begin applying makeup and doing your hair.

You’re tearing up a little bit as you look at yourself in the mirror. Clad in a long, form-fitting gown and in full hair and makeup, you look and feel like a princess.

The stylist hands you a small accent clutch and almost immediately after, the elevator dings, and Mr. Gucci steps out, clad in a snappy black suit, not unlike what he wears at work everyday.

That man is never not in a suit, you’ve learned.

His eyes go wide as you step down from the small platform. Your cheeks warm under his intense gaze.

The stylist looks nervous as his eyes roam your figure.

She speaks up a moment later, voice meek.

“Il vestito e il trucco soddisfano i suoi standard, signore?” (Does the dress and makeup meet your standards, sir?)

He tears his eyes away from you, and nods at the stylist.

“Ha superato le mie aspettative.” (It’s exceeded my expectations.)

You’re blushing madly now, unable to meet his eyes as you feel him looking at you again.

Soon, the stylist packs up and leaves just you and Mr. Gucci alone.

He clears his throat, breaking the silence.

“You look...beautiful, absolutely beautiful, tesoro.”

You bite your lip as you look up at him, absolutely starstruck by his handsomeness. He somehow manages to look better and more attractive every time you see him.

“You’re too sweet, sir.”

He takes your hand, kissing your knuckles.

“Please, I’m Maurizio tonight.”

You nod, trying his name on your tongue.

“Maurizio.”

Mr. Gucci smiles as he releases your hand. “We have a few minutes before the car gets here...would you like some water? Espresso?”

“I’m alright, but thank you.” You say.

A few moments of sexually-charged silence lingers between you two.

“Thank you for agreeing to join me tonight.”

He says suddenly.

“I always enjoy our time together, Y/N.”

You smile.

“Me too.”

“Really? You do?”

Maurizio blushes slightly.

“It’s just...I’m an old man, you’re a young woman...”

You chuckle as you reach out to hold his hand.

“You’re not old, sir—Maurizio. And yes, really, I do enjoy our time together.”

“I’m glad.”

He says, eyes flicking down to your lips as he leans in a little bit.

Wait...what? Is he gonna… Fuck, oh god, this can’t happen...

Honk!

He flinches at the sound, standing up straight and clearing his throat.

“I guess the car is here.”

You chuckle nervously as he holds out his hand, and you take it, walking alongside him to the elevator.

It’s a short drive to the hotel and when you two arrive, there are swarms of paparazzi, all crowding around the car when the driver pulls to the curb.

Maurizio clearly sees your overwhelmed expression and tension, reaching over to squeeze your hand.

“Don’t worry, tesoro. Just stay by my side and don’t answer any of their questions, yes?”

You nod and he gets out, walking around to open your door and help you out of the car. Immediately, when the press sees that you’re not his fiancée, the cameras flash even more rapidly and voices overlap one another.

“Sei la nuova fidanzata di Maurizio?” (Are you Maurizio’s new girlfriend?)

“Maurizio, dov’e la tua fidanzata?” (Maurizio, where’s your fiancée?)

“Strumento a mano.” (Gold digger.)

“Puttana americana.” (American whore.)

They were all basically on top of you, asking so many questions and saying so many things about you, it was incredibly overwhelming.

Suddenly, Maurizio’s voice boomed through the crowd, and everyone fell silent.

“Lasciala in pace!” (Leave her alone!)

His arm wraps tighter around your waist, pressing you even further into his side as he walks you both into the building. The cameras and crowds were almost completely silent, still, and you were just trying to process it all as the two of you walked into the event, you still tucked into his side.

He stopped just inside the door and let you go, taking your hands instead, eyebrows furrowed with worry.

“Are you okay, tesoro? They didn’t hurt you, did they?”

You shake your head, still trembling a little bit.

“N-No, I’m okay, just a little shaken up.”

“They’re vicious and relentless...mi dispiace. I should’ve warned you about them beforehand, but I’m relieved that you’re okay.” (I’m sorry)

“It’s okay, Maurizio, really.”

You smile sadly.

“Thank you for helping me.”

He wraps an arm around you again, gently squeezing your hip before rubbing it lightly.

“Of course, anything for mi tesoro. I’m indebted to you for joining me tonight.”

You’re blushing, eyes darting away from his.

“Oh no, that’s not necessary. It’s an honor to accompany you, and I’m sorry that my presence caused so much trouble for you, with the press.”

“Don’t worry about it.”

He smiles, eyes lingering on you for a moment before guiding you into the massive ballroom.

You’re absolutely stunned by the beauty of it, the chandeliers glittering on the ceiling as they illuminate the entire room.

Maurizio seems to notice your staring, and pauses as well, chuckling softly.

“It’s very pretty, isn’t it?”

You turn to him and nod, smiling.

“It’s beautiful.”

Once you get inside and take your seats, Maurizio is immediately flocked with people wanting to speak with him. Some of them give you a judgemental glance or gaze, and you just look away, taking another sip of your wine.

This is gonna be a long night.

Naturally, Maurizio has been talking to people nonstop all night, which was expected of course, but for some reason, you’d sort of hoped he’d make some time for just the two of you. You genuinely enjoy his company, he’s actually really kind and funny when he’s not in ‘work mode’.

Why would he do that for you? You’re just his replacement date, Y/N, nothing more.

So, you sit back in your chair and casually nibble at the new dinner course that was put on your plates a few minutes ago.

A dance song begins to play and suddenly, Maurizio stands up and holds his hand out for you.

“Would you like to dance, mi tesoro?”

“Absolutely.”

You blush, biting your lip as you stand up.

He places his hand on the small of your back as you two walk onto the floor. You wrap your arms around his neck while he places his hands on your waist, holding you close as the two of you begin gently swaying to the slow tune.

“It’s nice to step away from the table for a bit.”

He says, chuckling.

“I only see these people once a year, so they always want to talk the night away.”

You laugh.

“I understand, and I’m happy that I could provide an excuse for you to get away, even if only for a few minutes.”

“You’re anything but an excuse, Y/N.”

Maurizio says, blushing a bit.

“I’ve been wanting to make some time to spend with you, but I haven’t gotten the opportunity. I’m sorry for that, this must be tedious for you.”

You shake your head.

“No, it’s alright, although I do respect your fiancée much more now that I understand what happens at events like this.”

You jest, and he laughs.

“But, in all seriousness, I’m fine. You shouldn’t feel any obligation to keep me entertained, I understand my role for tonight.”

His face sinks ever so slightly, but he still smiles nonetheless.

“I did hope to spend some time with you, though. Like I said, I enjoy spending time with you.”

The song suddenly ends and a much more upbeat one takes its place.

Maurizio’s face seems to light up, and he smiles widely.

“Are you ready?”

“Ready for what?”

You’re suddenly lifted up and spun around. You laugh the entire time and he continues spinning you.

The whole world seems to fade and suddenly, it’s just you two on the dancefloor.

Your eyes are glued on one another as he sets you back down, and you don’t think you’ve ever seen him smile so genuinely. You briefly wonder how many of these moments he gets to have with his job.

You’re still laughing as he takes your hand and tries to twirl you around. He’s laughing along with you as you start to twirl, but you forgot how long your dress is, and you start to fall backwards.

A strong arm reaches down and scoops you up before you can hit the floor, and suddenly, you’re centimeters away from his face, his breath tickling your skin.

He’s still smiling as he slowly stands back up with you in his arms.

“Be careful, tesoro. We’re not taking any trips to the emergency room tonight, okay?”

You smile, unable to bring yourself to take your eyes off of him as you’re placed back onto your feet, his arm still around you, holding you close.

You allow yourself, for the first time since your internship began, to take in all of his features. You let your eyes drink in his beauty and it feels like time has stopped. He’s even more handsome up-close, his pale skin a stark contrast to his dark eyes and the freckles sprinkled across his features.

Before you know it, he leans forward and rests his forehead on yours, his lips so close now.

“Voglio davvero baciarti, tesoro.” (I really want to kiss you right now, treasure.)

He whispers.

His voice is so deep, yet soft and full of yearning. It sends a chill down your spine.

“Non ti fermero, bello.” (I’m not going to stop you, handsome.)

“Bene.” (Good.)

He leans forward the rest of the way and your lips connect in a tender embrace.

You close your eyes and let your hand reach up to cradle the side of his face.

He soon pulls away, a face-splitting grin on his face.

You’re wearing a similar expression.

“Mi chiedevo quando l’avresti finalmente fatto.” (I was wondering when you were finally going to do that.)

You giggle, nuzzling your nose against his slightly.

Maurizio laughs softly.

“Mi chiedevo quando avrei dovuto farlo anch’io.” (I was wondering when I was going to do it, as well.)

The moment is quickly ruined when you realize exactly where you are, and you’re afraid to know how many people saw that. You quickly stand up straight and so does he, both of you taking a small step away from each other as you straighten yourselves out.

When you turn back towards the table, all of the people stare right at you, and you feel your face get hot. You look up at Maurizio when he comes up beside you.

“I think I’ll just catch a cab back to the house…”

You say, looking down.

He looks over at the table, seeing his work colleagues giving you judgemental glares. His finger gently lifts your chin until you’re looking up at him again.

“Let me take you back, tesoro. It’s the least I can do, and we can talk about...everything.”

You nod.

“I’m really sorry about this…”

Maurizio shakes his head.

“No, tesoro, it’s my fault. I shouldn’t have done that in such a public space.”

Your cheeks get warmer.

“Are you saying that you still would’ve done it?”

His cheeks go pink as he looks away.

“Yes, I still would’ve kissed you, Y/N.”

Is this real?

He clears his throat, placing a hand on the small of your back.

“Why don’t you go up to the front while I retrieve our stuff from the table? I’ll make sure that no one says anything or thinks poorly of you.”

“Thank you.”

You say, smiling.

“I’ll get them to call us a cab.”

He’s at the table for about five minutes while you wait by the door, anxious for what’s to come.

“Sorry, mi tesoro, they tried to tell me that I shouldn’t leave early. But, I insisted on seeing you safely back to your house.”

“If you need to stay…”

You begin, but are quickly stopped.

“No, I’m going with you.”

You’re so flattered that he would leave the biggest company party of the year just for you. You.

The cab arrives shortly after and you two walk out into the warm Italian night air, hopping into the car. His hand rests gently on your thigh as the car pulls away from the curb.

He sighs.

“I’m sorry that I got you involved in this. My life is...complicated, especially as someone constantly under the public eye.”

You don’t even want to ask this next question, but you have to.

“Maurizio, are you still engaged?”

His head turns away to look out the window.

“I’m not sure.”

Your eyebrows furrow. “What do you mean, you aren’t sure? It’s a yes or no question.”

“Patrizia left me last night and she hasn’t come back.”

He says, choking up a bit.

You gently put your hand over his and he looks over at you.

“I’m really sorry, that’s...terrible. Did she say why?”

“I told her that I was taking you tonight, and she got upset.”

He sighed.

“She asked me if I had feelings for you, since I talk to her about you almost every day…”

“You talk about me?”

Maurizio smiles softly, nodding. “Of course I do. Ever since you’ve been here, the office has been...happier. I’ve been happier.”

You take a deep breath, trying not to freak out over what you’re hearing.

“S-So, when she asked you if you had feelings for me...what did you tell her?”

He turns fully to the side, bringing a hand up to cup your face.

“Le ho detto la verita, che mi sono sentito per te sin dal primo giorno in cui sei entrato in ufficio.” (I told her the truth, that I’ve felt for you since the first day you walked into the office.)

You can’t help but smile as your face warms again, eyes darting away from his as he continues.

“Sono un uomo migliore con te nella mia vita, tesoro.” (I’m a better man with you in my life, treasure.)

“Maurizio, I…”

You begin, trying to find the right words.

“Lo so che non dovrei, ma mi sento anche per te.” (I know I shouldn’t, but I feel for you, too.)

He smiles, leaning in closer.

“Qual e la ragione dell-amore senza rischi?” (What is the point of love without risk?)

This time, you close the gap between your lips. His other hand comes to hold your face as you kiss, so much passion and want in every movement of your lips together.

You move closer, legs draping over his lap.

Just as you make a move to sit on his lap, the cab pulls up to your house, forcing you apart.

Both of you are panting softly, eyes staring deep into each other’s.

“Tesoro, ti prego, faccio l’amore stasera.” (Treasure, please, let me make love to you tonight.)

He leans in and crashes your lips together again, this kiss filled with urgency, with lust, with need.

You nod, biting your lip.

“Ti voglio. Ho bisogno di te, per favore.” (I want you. I need you, please.)

Maurizio smiles, paying the driver before quickly hopping out of the car, rushing around to let you out. As soon as you step out, you’re swept up off your feet and carried bridal-style to the front door. You unlock the door and he quickly closes it with his foot.

You reach up and begin planting kisses on his neck, enjoying the way he sighs softly.

“Which one is yours?”

He asks, breathily.

“Upstairs, the loft.”

He makes his way up the small flight of stairs.

“Is anyone else here?”

You nod. “They’re all on the first floor.”

Maurizio hums, gently placing you down on the bed before shedding his suit coat, hanging it on your desk chair, followed by his tie. He takes off his loafers and socks, placing them beneath his other clothes.

You’d barely gotten your heels off at the point. He laughs when he turns around and sees you struggling to get the shoes off. He quickly pulls it off and tosses it on the floor, holding your foot while he kisses your ankle and calf.

He takes a moment to look at you laid back on the bed, once neatly done hair loosened, makeup a bit smudged. His lips pulled up into a smile, teeth playfully scraping at your ankle bone.

“You have too much on, mi tesoro.”

You smile, standing up and turning away from him, silently asking him to unbutton and unzip your dress. He steps up behind you, breaths hot on your neck as his fingers work the buttons.

His lips begin planting kisses on your shoulders, soon undoing the zipper, freeing you from the dress. You step out and stand before him in just your underwear, looking away as his eyes rake over your figure.

Your cheeks grow hotter when you look down to see the tent growing in his dress pants.

“Etereale.” (Ethereal.)

He mutters, fingers working the buttons of his shirt, gently tossing it with his other clothes before working at the buckle on his belt.

“Formidabile.” (Gorgeous.)

The leather belt was soon tossed onto the growing pile of clothing. He unbuttons his pants before stepping forward again, now almost right up against you.

His hand wraps around your wrist and brings your palm to the tent in his pants, growling softly when it touches. He leaned forward, lips at your ear.

“For you, tesoro. All for you.”

You shudder as his lips plant kisses all over your neck while his hands roam your bare body, fingers teasing your breasts.

“You’re so sensitive.”

He breathes, hands squeezing your breasts gently.

“When was the last time someone touched you like this, hm?”

“It’s been a w-while.”

You say, gasping when his thumb rolls over your pebbled nipple.

“O-Oh…”

Maurizio grins, placing one more kiss on your neck before standing up straight, tugging his pants and boxers down. You watch in amazement when his length bobs as it’s exposed, mouth watering at the sight.

He smirks. “Do you see something you like?”

“Absolutely.”

You reply, biting your lip.

He laughs softly.

“Well...would you like to touch it?”

His cheeks flush pink.

You nod, reaching to wrap your hand around the base. His eyes flutter shut at your touch, and he sucks in a breath when you begin stroking.

“Mmmmm, davvero buono.” (so good.)

His head falls back when you increase your pace, hips gently rutting forward. His eyebrows knit in the center of his forehead, small moans escaping his lips.

Suddenly, he pulls away, letting out a shaky breath as his length stirs at the loss of contact.

“You are too good at that, mi tesoro.”

He bites his lip, fingertips teasing the lace waistband of your panties.

“May I touch you now?”

You nod, jumping softly when he all but tears the material down your legs, exposing your folds. He reaches down and cups your center, eyes widening when he feels how wet you are.

“Oh,”

He whispers, fingers tracing up to rub your clit.

“Tesoro...you’re so excited already, and I haven’t even touched you.”

Your hips suddenly buck forward out of instinct, and Maurizio chuckles breathily, rubbing a bit faster. You gasp, breath catching in your throat.

“S-Shit.”

You allow yourself to get lost in the pleasure, head falling forward onto his chest. The small noises falling from your lips get increasingly louder as you draw closer and closer to release.

His fingers suddenly push up into you, and you almost cum right on the spot. His digits feel so much better than yours as they begin plunging in and out, scissoring occasionally.

“Lasciatemi prendere, tesoro, e ti acchiappero.” (Let go for me, treasure, and I will catch you.)

He whispers breathily, stroking faster.

“Andiamo.” (Let go.)

His fingers curl up inside of you, and after a few rubs on your g-spot, you’re coming with a soft cry.

“Maurizio...oh mio dio…” (Maurizio...oh my god…)

Your knees buckle and you begin to fall, but he catches you immediately, smiling down at you as his fingers continue to work you through your climax. He leans over to kiss you again, slowly and gently pulling his fingers out.

“Lay back, mi tesoro, and open your legs.”

He whispers against your lips, standing back up straight as you sit down on the edge of the bed before laying back.

You spread my legs, ready to receive him, and he smiles as he climbs on top of you. He’s still wearing his glasses, and while you find that humorous and quite frankly cute, it’s also incredibly arousing for some reason. You don’t dwell on it, wanting to focus on the moment unfolding before your eyes.

Maurizio strokes his hardened length a few times, grunting softly, before rubbing himself across your folds. His eyes shut and he takes a shaky breath as your slick spreads across his cock. He starts pressing and rubbing the tip against your clit for a bit, smirking when your hips buck up against him.

He looks down at you, lining himself up with your entrance.

“Are you ready? I’ll go slow for you, tesoro.”

You nod and he pushes in slowly, growling softly. He shivers, stopping when he’s about halfway in.

“Is it still okay?”

Your legs wrap around his waist, pushing his hips forward while you scoot closer, pushing him in the rest of the way.

“D-Does that answer your question?”

You chuckle.

He laughs breathily, nodding.

“Indeed, it does.”

You take deep breaths while you adjust to his size, soon nodding, letting him know that it’s okay for him to move. He pulls about halfway out before pushing back in again, exhaling loudly as he establishes a rhythm of slow, deep thrusts.

“O-Oh, cazzo, sei fantastico.” (Oh, fuck, you feel amazing.)

Your jaw hangs open, body bouncing with each of his inward thrusts. You hold onto his biceps for dear life as his pace increases ever so slightly.

“Maurizio,”

You breathe, looking up into his eyes.

“Keep going, please.”

The bed squeaks as his hips’ movements grow more desperate.

“Tesoro, I--cazzo--I’m not going to last.” (fuck)

He says, eyebrows knitted on his forehead.

“I h-haven’t done this--merda--in a w-while.” (shit)

You nod in understanding, moving your hands up to cup the sides of his face.

“It’s okay, M-Maurizio, it’s alright.”

His eyes meet yours as he growls softly, shaking his head.

“No, it’s n-not. You deserve better, t-the best, Y/N.”

Your thumb swipes on his cheekbone as his eyes tear up with a mixture of pleasure and frustration.

“Y-You already are the best, bello, and I w-want you to cum, no m-matter if I have o-or not. I want you to p-pleasure yourself, okay? Don’t worry about m-me.” (handsome)

He smiles softly, falling onto his elbows, lips connecting with yours as he thrusts get harder. He grunts deeply with each thrust, breath hot and heavy on the side of your neck.

“Oh tesoro, I’m...close. Where…”

He searches for the right words, mind clouded with lust. He groans in frustration.

“Dove vuoi che sborra?” (Where do you want me to cum?)

You tangle your fingers in his hair, tugging gently.

“Sono sulla pillola. Puoi sborra dentro, se vuoi, bello.” (I’m on the pill. You can cum inside, if you want, handsome.)

These words seem to awaken something in him, his eyes going black, hips suddenly rutting quickly and desperately into you.

“Cazzo, sei incredibile, sei perfetto, tesoro.” (Fuck, you’re amazing, you’re perfect, treasure.)

Maurizio buries his face into the crook of your neck as he reaches climax, moans and gasps muffled by your skin. He buries his cock deep inside of you, painting your walls with his release, rutting them desperately as he fills you up.

“Y/N, oh dio, prendi tutto per me. Bene, sei bravissima, mi tesoro.” (Y/N, oh god, take it all for me. Good, you’re so good, my treasure).

As soon as he finishes, his hand reaches down to rub your clit in circles, eyes meeting yours.

“C’mon, let me pleasure you now. Let go, tesoro, give yourself to me.”

Your back arches and your hips grind against his fingers, mouth full of whimpers, whines, and gasps as his fingers rub you. You grab onto his bicep when you cum, looking up into his eyes.

“Yes, oh Maurizio, yes!”

You gasp, moaning softly as your release spreads throughout your body.

He continues to rub you through it, cock twitching slightly where it still sits inside of you, causing him to growl softly.

After both of you take a moment to catch your breaths, he slowly pulls out, and you can see that he’s already hard again. He blushes, looking away for a moment.

“I...I’m sorry, that’s never happened before…”

You chuckle, shaking your head.

“Maurizio, you don’t need to apologize. It’s actually sort of flattering, that I can do that to you.”

He smiles softly, laying down next to you, pulling you back against him. You didn’t realize exactly how hard he actually was until you felt him pressed against your back, and you felt bad.

“Do you…I mean, I can...”

You trail off, a bit embarrassed, hoping he got the point.

Maurizio immediately shakes his head.

“No, tesoro, don’t worry. I will be okay.”

Your teeth sink into your bottom lip before you speak.

“If you wanted to, you could...rub it against me.”

You feel his member twitch at your proposition, and you turn around in his arms, looking up at him. His cheeks are bright red.

“Will you show me?”

He asks quietly.

You smile, nodding.

“All you have to do is start moving your hips against me, using my skin to rub on.”

He experimentally rolls his hips, jaw clenched as he tries to contain himself.

“O-Oh.”

He tried it again, growling as his cock dragged along your stomach.

“Tesoro, it’s…”

You can’t pretend that this isn’t incredibly arousing for you to watch and feel. His tip was already red and leaking, so you knew he wasn’t going to last very long.

“Does it feel good, Maurizio?”

You feel him nod, hips moving faster now as he looks down at you.

“Yes, cristo, it’s s-so good.” (christ)

His lips crash onto yours and he loops an arm behind you, holding you still as he begins rutting against you, growling into your mouth. He moves his head down to kiss and nip at your neck.

“Your s-skin is so soft, mi tesoro.”

He whispers, grunting with each forward motion now.

His leg lifts up and lays over your hip, allowing him to thrust harder, hand still on your lower back. He’s close, you can tell, and you attentively watch the way his face contorts as he reaches orgasm.

He suddenly hugs you tight, a choked sob against your neck as his seed spills all over your stomach and his.

“Ah! Ah--oh--cristo!” (christ)

You run your hands through his hair soothingly as he comes down, trembling slightly. He slides down your body a bit, resting his head between your breasts, kissing them gently.

After a short while, he looks up at you.

“Grazie, Y/N, grazie mille.” (Thank you, Y/N, thank you so much.)

You smile.

“You don’t have to thank me, Maurizio, it was my pleasure.”

He reaches up and connects your lips in a tender yet passionate kiss before he pulls away, cringing when he feels the stickiness between you.

“I’m sorry, fuck, I’ve never...that’s never…”

You kiss him again, cutting him off.

“No worries, we can just clean it off. I’ll get a wet washcloth.”

You stand and come back a moment later with a wet washcloth, reaching down to wipe yourself off before Maurizio’s hand wraps around your wrist, stopping you.

“Let me.”

He smiles, taking the cloth from your hand, cleaning up the sticky substance before doing the same to himself.

Your cheeks are warm as you look up at him.

“Thank you.”

“No problem, mi tesoro.”

He suddenly looks away, frowning softly.

“I-I can’t stay tonight, Y/N, I’m sorry. If someone catches us…”

You shake your head, holding the side of his face.

“No, no need to explain. I understand.”

Maurizio nods silently, sighing as he begins to redress. You slip your panties back on, along with an oversized t-shirt and you pull your hair up into a ponytail.

When he’s ready, you offer to go first, in case anyone’s still awake. He agrees, and you make your way down the stairs, looking around, not seeing anyone. You look up the stairs and nod, indicating that it’s okay. He makes his way down and you walk with him to the door.

“Do you have a car coming?”

He nods. “My driver is already outside.”

There’s a moment of silence before Maurizio suddenly grabs your hips, pulling you against him as his lips crash down onto yours, the kiss desperate and full of longing. You wrap your arms around the back of his neck, pulling him down closer.

He pulls away slowly, eyes fluttering open.

“Alla prossima, tesoro.” (Until next time, my treasure.)

You smile, biting your lip as he sneaks out the door, rushing down and hopping into the car waiting for him.

As you watch his car pull away from the curb, only one thought occupies your mind:

Holy shit, I just slept with Maurizio Gucci.

#adamdriverwriter #adam driver #adam driver character #adam driver smut #adam driver fluff #maurizio gucci #maurizio gucci smut #maurizio gucci fluff #maurizio gucci x reader #maurizio gucci x you #maurizio gucci x reader smut #maurizio gucci x reader fluff #tw: infidelity #house of gucci

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beggingforfootnotes · 4 years ago

Text

december, 1963 (what a night) - h.s

requested: yes. thank u anon!!

warnings: none (?)

author’s note: this is definitely one of my favorite pieces i’ve ever written. been working on it for a while now, so i hope u enjoy!!!

“It’s still so weird,” Y/N sighed, running a hand through Harry’s hair as he sat between her legs, the two of them lying on the sofa as a film played in the background. The man hummed inquisitively, eyes closed. “I’m like— I’m gonna your wife. I’m gonna be Mrs. Styles.”

A low chuckle rumbled from Harry’s chest, “tha’ you are. Always m’girl, soon to be m’wife.”

She nodded, nibbling her bottom lip, losing herself in the softness of his curly tresses. They’d been together for almost three years, each year being better than the last, each year their love growing for one another. “Your wife...” The girl trailed off as her gaze fixated on the sparkling diamond ring on her left hand, words dissolving into the air.

A few beats of silence fell between the engaged couple, the chattering of the background movie filling the room. “What’s on y’mind?” Harry opened his eyes, leaning his head back to rest on her shoulder, pressing a kiss to the soft skin on the side of her cheek. “Know y’can tell me anything, love.”

Sighing, “when are we gonna tell people?”

“Baby, we’ve talked ‘bout this. I don’t want you t’be overwhelmed by the media ‘nd—“

“I know,” Y/N breathed, voice small. “I know. I just... It’s been three years, Harry. Don’t you think they deserve to know?” Her jaw was tense as she muttered, “they barely know me as your girlfriend.”

The man sat up, swiftly turning around to sit on his knees so he could face his fiancé. “I want them t’know, petal, I do. But,” hands gently rubbing up and down her thighs, eyes falling, “‘m scared. Don’t want them t’tear you apart.” Y/N placed her hands on top of Harry’s, stopping their movements on her thighs.

“Three days. We get married in three days, yeah?” He nodded, eyes still down. “Right, then why don’t we push this aside for now? I don’t want us to get caught up in this and have it ruin the wedding. Our wedding.” Over the course of her spiel, Y/N had interlaced her fingertips with Harry’s, occasionally giving them gentle squeezes. She offered him an apologetic grin, “I’m sorry I brought it up, bub.”

His eyes finally met hers, dark chocolate curls bouncing with a small shake of his head. “’s okay. I love you.”

Harry stood in front of the sanctuary doors, fingers tapping on his cufflinks as Anne rubbed loose circles into his back, her bangles lightly clanking with each rotation. “You ready, pumpkin?” He closed his eyes, head falling as he inhaled deeply, the comforting scent of his mum’s perfume filling his nose.

Barely above a whisper, “yeah.” His voice trembled, “yeah, ‘m ready.” Truth be told, Harry was beyond nervous, terrified. Not because he didn’t love Y/N, no— he was so in love with her. What scared him, then? The media. He knew the things they said about her, and he also knew what the words did to her. Thousands of women wished for the day they would become Mrs. Harry Styles, but for Harry, there was only her.

“Let’s get this show on the road then. Mumma’s ready for some grandbabies,” Anne smiled as she wrapped her arm around his, eliciting a ‘slow down there’ from her son. The usher pulled open the grand french doors, the busy noises from the crowd dying down at the sight of the groom. They walked toe-by-toe, step-by-step, down the carpeted aisle as shaky breaths slipped from Harry’s lips, trying to disguise his nerves in the form of a toothy smile. “‘m so proud of you,” Anne beamed, pulling her baby into her arms, her head resting on his chest. “I love you, sweets.”

Squeezing gently, Harry gave a quick peck to her cheek, “love you, mum. Always.” The man let go of his mother, boots softly tapping the floor as he joined the minister in front of the pews, bouquets of daisies and sunflowers littered around him. His fingers were still fiddling with the cufflinks on his, of course, Gucci suit, keeping himself from messing with his hair. The grand oak doors opened yet again: this time, for the woman he was in love with. “Bleedin’ hell,” he muttered as his eyes landed on Y/N: she was an angel sent from heaven, dressed in white, just for him. Harry couldn’t hold back the pure elation bubbling up inside him, rising in his chest to bring tears to his eyes.

“Hi,” she gushed quietly to her fiancé, passing the bouquet in her hands off to a bridesmaid.

Choking out a sob, he smiled, “oh, baby. Y’look marvelous.”

“You’re not too bad yourself, handsome,” Y/N reached forward, gently cupping Harry’s cheek, thumb brushing away the tears that slowly rolled down his face.

“We are gathered here today to celebrate one of life’s greatest moments,” the minister began, “and to cherish the words which shall unite Y/N Y/M/N Y/L/N and Harry Edward Styles in marriage.” As the minister continued his script, Harry couldn’t take his eyes off of the woman standing before him, couldn’t stop his heart from beating out of his chest, couldn’t wipe the eye-crinkling smile on his face. “Marriage is the promise between two people who love each other, and who trust in that love, who honor each other as individuals, and who choose to spend the rest of their lives together.”

“I love you,” Harry mouthed to Y/N, giving her hands a squeeze as they lied in his palms. She giggled, eyes flickering back between the speaker and her love.

“This ceremony will not create a relationship that does not already exist between you. It is a symbol of how far you have come these past few years. It is a symbol of the promises you will make to each other to continue growing stronger as individuals and as partners. No matter what challenges you face, you now face them together, and no matter how much you succeed, you now succeed together. The love between you joins you now as one. Now, the bride and groom each have a few words to share.”

His hands were shaking, his mind cloudy with her sheer beauty. “Harry, your vows,” she whispered.

“Oh,” Harry exclaimed, scattered chuckles coming from the guests. “Right, okay— Y/N,” he gulped, fingers fishing for the sheet of paper in his pocket. “Y/N, you ‘nd I both know how indecisive I can be at times. I simply don't like t’make decisions,” chuckling, he cleared his throat. “But if there’s one decision in m’life that I know is the right one, it's t’spend the rest of m’life with you. There’s an infinite number of things I love about you. I love your thoughtfulness and your ability t’keep me grounded when I become too much of a narcissist.” The pews of their family and friends snickered, making Harry look up from his messy writing, “wha’? I am and we all know it!” His smile-crinkled eyes flickered between Y/N and the crowd, gently tapping the toe of his boot on the ground. “I love your loyalty to me and our relationship. I love how when y’laugh really hard, your one eye starts t’crinkle up. I promise to be patient with you, even if it means that I have t’listen t’you make puns out of every single one of m’song titles. And,” he slid the paper back into its original spot, taking ahold of Y/N’s hands again, “I promise to love you for the rest of my life.”

Y/N sniffled, a breathy giggle slipping past her ear-to-ear grin as her maid of honor delivered the notebook paper she had written her vows onto, tear stains littering across the lines. “Harry, of all the people you've met on your journey and of all the places you've been, somehow and someway, you ended up here—with me,” she sucked her bottom lip between her teeth, choking back the tears that had worked their way to her eyes. “I used to think that we met by chance but now I know without a doubt that the universe put you in front of me because we were meant to spend our lives together. You have filled my life with joy and have given me a sense of peace that I have never known. You are my best friend, my biggest supporter, and my favorite narcissist.”

”See,” Harry snaps his neck back to his loved ones on the wooden benches of the church, “we all know it!”

“Although today marks the start to the rest of our lives,” she continued, “I know it will not be enough time with you. I will not take our time together for granted. And because words cannot do it, I promise to show you, for the rest of my life, just how much I love you.” Her eyes twinkled, “I promise to encourage you to follow all of your big rock-star dreams, to make you laugh when you’re taking yourself too seriously, which is more often than not.” Harry nodded, shrugging a light ‘yeah’. “I promise to hold your hand through the good times and through the bad, to be loyal and faithful and put you before all else. And I promise,” Y/N blubbered, voice wavering, “that when we are old and gray, we will look back on our lives together and we have no regrets. From this day forward, you will never walk alone."

The minister breathed as the couple dried one another’s tears, “beautiful, both of you. Now, Harry Edward Styles, do you take Y/N to be your lawfully wedded wife for as long as you both shall live?

Before the minister could finish his sentence, Harry’s head was frantically bobbing up and down, a few chocolate curls breaking loose from their gellus hold. “I do,” he beamed, “a thousand times I do.”

“And Y/N Y/M/N Y/L/N, do you take Harry to be your lawfully wedded husband for as long as you both shall live?”

“I do.”

“Is this actually happening? Am I really the Mrs. Harry Styles?” Y/N rested her chin in the palm of her hand, elbow flush on the white tablecloth as she gazed at her husband. Dinner had been served, the cake had been cut, the party had just begun.

The man seated next to her sighed, his hand falling underneath the table to rest on her thigh. “I think so. Doesn’t seem real, does it? Feels...”

“Euphoric?”

“Precisely,” he nodded, fingertips trailing from her thigh up to her cheek, brushing a stray piece of hair from her eyes. Their eyes met, the glow of the neon party lights adding a tinge of purple to both of their orbs. “Can I kiss m’wife?”

Blissful, Y/N hummed. “Only if I can kiss my husband.” Muttering an ‘of course’, Harry gently pressed his smiling lips against hers, scattered hoots and hollers filling their ears.

“Ladies and gentlemen, I’d like to invite Mr. and Mrs. Styles to the floor for their first dance of many,” the emcee spoke into the microphone, catching the couple’s attention as their lips parted. As Harry pushed his chair back, he extended a hand to his wife, mumbling a ‘shall we?’, to which she nodded. Y/N’s heels clicked on the hardwood floors, hoisting her dress up to avoid stepping on it, fingers intertwined with Harry’s.

“Am I asleep, am I awake, or somewhere in between?” Y/N clasped her hands behind her husband’s head, forearms resting gently on his shoulders. His grip was light on her waist, rubbing circles into the lacy fabric of her dress with his thumb. “I can’t believe that you are here and lying next to me.”

“I forgot we picked this song,” she whispered through a giggle, looking up at the man through thick lashes. “Can’t wait to see what the boys will say about this.”

His smile grew, “they just might kill me.”

“I hope I’m not a casualty, I hope you won’t get up and leave. Might not mean that much to you, but to me it’s everything, everything.”

“Well, they’ll have to get through me first.” The newlywed couple continued to sway back and forth, careful not to step on each other’s toes like they had practiced time and time again. Their first dance music drew to its end, light applause flooding the room as Harry quickly pecked his wife’s cheek, leading her back to the king and queen esqe chairs at their table.

Her eyes sparkled, he noted, thanking whatever higher power in the universe for allowing him to look into them for the rest of his life— for the rest of their life.

“‘December, 1963’ and then ‘what a night’ in parentheses.”

“What?” Y/N uttered, not looking up from the laptop that sat on her thighs, fingertips scrolling on the touchpad.

“The caption for my post. Does it sound okay?” Harry inquired nervously, nibbling the inside of his top lip. The picture on his phone screen was one he held near and dear to his heart: Y/N’s left hand holding his, a simple elegant diamond ring adorning her ring finger, on the day he proposed.

Lowering her laptop screen, her eyes widened, “are you... you’re posting the wedding?”

He shook his head, “posting the engagement. Been thinking a lot on it, on whether I should post the wedding pictures.” Y/N proceeded to sit up, any mindless scrolling previously taking place ceasing, her full attention now on the man at the end of the bed. “Decided on tha’ one photo from the engagement shoot, the one on the ‘save the date’ cards we sent out.”

“That’s a good one, but—“

“—want t’let the fans in, but still keep our privacy,” he answered, able to read her mind. “‘s been four months since I made you m’wife. Not g’na give the world a chance to ruin our happy.”

Y/N nodded along with Harry’s words, watching his thumbs twiddle as he explained himself. “Okay,” she breathed deeply, “post it.” After a few clicks of a button, the world knew: knew that she was his, knew that he was hers. They knew.

“December, 1963,” Harry sighed, throwing his phone to bounce onto the pillows. “What a night.”

#harry styles one shot #harry styles fic #harry styles #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles imagines #harry styles imagine #harry styles oneshot #harry styles writing #harry styles fluff #harry styles fluffy blurb #harry styles fluff imagine #harrystyles #emmie writes #emmie writes: harry styles

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masterswrd · 4 years ago

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Hannibal Fashion Meta Pt. 4

Now with sexy annotations.

In this installment we’re back to our favorite party vampire, my sweet Hannibal, who is a whole ass meal and always ready to please a crowd. So we’re going to be talking about his Event Looks.

Ya know, these are becoming less like metas and more like me sitting with you on your couch and pausing and pointing at the screen while I dump all this on you. But what matters most is my own happiness so here we are.

Let’s start in order with one of my favorite episodes, 1x07 Sorbet. Where we see Hannibal is a gorgeous double breasted midnight blue Brunello Cucinelli tux. It’s not bespoke, but honey if this is cashmere than this is probably $9000. If it’s wool than it’s closer to $5000 (which is what I estimate he pays for a lot of his bespoke suits).

Hannibal really isn’t the type of person to wear black, I’m pretty sure we never see him in a solid black suit. Black suits are very very formal and unless you’re at a black tie event or a funeral, a black suit is usually overkill. We know he likes to stand out. Blue is a very socially acceptable way to have some flair at a black tie event. It’s very main character of him. He’s also wearing french square cuffs on the shirt (the reason they look almost tear drop shaped around his wrists) which is why he’s wearing cuff links (you need french cuffs for cufflinks).

Hannibal doesn’t seem to wear cuff links very often. Only with tuxedos. On this evening, he pairs this with a $200 a blue silk Burberry bow tie.

Hugh Dancy used to model for Burberry and I lost an hour of work on this due to that little morsel of information.

The next even we see Hannibal at is his own dinner party later that episode. This shit is lux, baby.

This blazer is a dark dark green velvet Canali dinner jacket that I’m estimating to be around two to three thousand dollars. And hey listen. I tried so hard to edit these pics so you could see the green, but it’s the type of material in color where you’d really only see it in person. Canali is a luxury Italian brand that has a shop in Washington DC,which is probably the one Hannibal would go to in canon. There’s also a shop in Milano, Italy so Hannibal could’ve been a fan of this brand for a long time. Under the jacket we have a $600 Gucci button up. A paisley tie, not surprising with it being a staple to Hannibal’s taste, and a three-peak folded pocket square to finish off the look. King of pocket square folds. I love you.

With only one party happening in season two, Futamono is next. Now, I personally love this look but anytime people step up their formal wear with color, I go nuts.

This is a maroon velvet dinner jacket with silk lining and trim. The make is Etro, a very high end Italian fashion house that specializes in bold prints. It’s a gorgeous $1500 jacket, but I want to talk about the cravat. Cravats felt out of a fashion a long time ago (they were originally a military thing way back before aristocracy got a hold of it) and most people could NOT pull them off today. BUT that is only because people don’t modernize the look. People wear them too high on the neck and makes your whole outfit look outdated. But keeping it low to the open collar or using it to frame an open collar makes it look a million times better. This is just another example of Hannibal being a person who wears what looks good on him and not wearing things that follow certain rules. He can pull anything off it he puts his mind to it. If we wore crocs to the opera, everyone would be trying to do it the next day. He’s a trend setter and an icon.

Jumping to season 3, we have another black tie event. Everyone in the background wearing black and our man comes through with a gorgeous burgundy two-peice tuxedo. This is a unique bespoke peice by toronto based Italian master tailor, Nino Cioppa. Nino is the primary tailor for season 3 and he did a fabulous job, the talent JUMPED out. Molto bello.

The silk on the lapels are patterned and the same fabric is used to do an accent strip on the sides of the legs. Silk lapels are one trusty way you can tell between a suit and a tuxedo. Lovely lovely lovely. Not a plain tie either. It’s maroon silk with an embroidered square pattern. He’s also wearing french cuffs with mother of pearl Burberry cufflinks.

Another amazing suit in Antipasto is this baby, a beautiful chalkstripe emerald green three-piece suit. By FAR, one of my favorite outfits that he wears. Like the tux above, this is another bespoke original from Mr. Nino Cioppa.

The silk blue bowtie brings yet another pop of color. He does color matching and pattern matching very often and does it well. There’s a general rule of two that people follow where they will only wear two patterns at most having one be understated (the chalkstripe and stripes on the shirt in this case) and one being more attention drawing (the bowtie). Hannibal ignores this rule a lot and still looks amazing but this is a good example of the rule in action.

The biggest thing I want people to get out of these is that regular fancy people don’t dress like this. Hannibal Lecter is another plane of fashion. He’s avant-garde and ahead of his time. He is always wearing something fresh and showstopping. This person had to be THE TALK of the baltimore upper class. “What’s Dr. Lecter wearing?” “Who is your tailor?” “Oh my goodness, he’s stunning.” Nobody else is doing it like him and doing it so well. He dresses for the Met Gala everytime he pulls up to ANY function. Why should he be concerned out rules? Why should he be self-conscious or worried what other people think? Take his self confidence and apply it to your style. Wear that peice of clothing you bought but shoved back in your closet because you can’t bring yourself to wear it out. Hannibal will never hold back when he’s serving looks and neither should you.

In conclusion:

youtube

#w.txt #matt writes #hannibal fashion #hannibal #hannibal lecter #my correct hannibal posts #can you tell i drank green juice and not liquor this time around?#this is a reminder that if you ever want a fashion consult on ur fics i will do it!!!

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all-my-love-for-harry · 4 years ago

Text

Show off.

summary: artemis likes to show his daddy off and harry takes every opportunity to make his son proud.

word count:

based on these requests:

"for the single parent series, could there be one where harry and the reader go to artemis’ school for like parent teacher interviews or like harry goes for a school father’s day kinda thing? thanks!"

and

"wait so what about artemis like showing his daddy off🥺 cause that bb just knows how awesome his dad is and he wants everyone to know it"

and

"For my shy little boy can you write something were parents go to schools to talk about their jobs and Artemis chooses Harry and introduces him as his that and harry gets all mushy and happy to talk about his job and tells funny/cute stories about Artemis and Y/n while they were on the road with him. Please."

and

"hi I love my shy little boy series! could you write something about Artemis calling or telling his friends at school that Harry’s his dad or like Harry attends Artemis school event??"

a/n: hi! sorry for taking so long, i haven't been inspired lately but here we are again! hope you enjoy!

you can find more of my shy little boy here

*:･ﾟ✧ ✧ﾟ･: *:･ﾟ✧ ✧ﾟ･:

November, 2019.

Starting on a new school has never been easy, especially if school year has already started and you’re the last one to join. Making the decision of putting Artemis in another school wasn’t an easy one, but surely the most practical one. After moving in with Harry, Artemis’ school ended up too far from home, so his parents made the decision to choose another one that was closer to their house.

It was hard at first, the poor boy would cry trying to convince his mummy to let him stay, sometimes faking having the flu or a headache. Y/N would sigh and try to explain to him how he had to put on a little effort, she understood it was hard for him to leave his teacher, his friends, a routine he was already used to. However, closing off and refusing to talk to his classmates didn’t make things better.

Slowly but surely, Artemis started to accept the changes. He started talking to a few kids, opening up to the idea of making new friends. He’d talk about what he liked, disliked and, of course, he’d talk about his mummy and daddy.

“My daddy says we treat people with kindness!”

“My mummy packs me breakfast every day.”

Those were some of the things he’d usually say to his classmates. However he held back a little when it came to talk about Harry, having his mummy explain to him before how not everybody had the best intentions when it came to them, so sometimes it was better to not say too much. But Artemis couldn’t help it, he loved his daddy too much.

One day, he was at school sitting beside one of his friends, a little girl named Allison. The teacher had giving them permission to use the last minutes of the class to do whatever they wanted, and Artemis was coloring a book next to his friend.

"What's your daddy's name?" The girl asked.

"Harry," He smiled. "Harry Styles."

Much to his surprise, the blonde girl let out a high-pitched laugh while shocking her head. “No, he isn’t.” She stated. “Harry Styles’ a rock star. That’s what my mummy says.”

Artemis furrowed. At this point, he was well aware what his daddy’s job was, but to him Harry’s always been a normal person. The man who dated his mummy and now was his dad too. “He is!” Allison just shook her head again, making her pigtails move as well. It frustrated the boy how she seemed to not believe him, when he was obviously telling the truth.

So he crossed his arms across his chest, pouting. The teacher has noticed the little disagreement the kids had, and she secretly took the girl’s side. It had been a little over a month since Artemis had arrived to the school and she was yet to meet the boy’s dad, as Y/N was always the one who picked him up. Soon enough, the parents of the children started to show up, and the classroom became emptier.

There were a few kids left besides Artemis that were still waiting to be collected when Harry showed up. He was excited to meet his son’s teacher since he wasn’t able to before, he’s been pretty busy since the album release was approaching therefore his time was being consumed by meetings and last minute trips to the studio. He walked down the hallway with a big smile on his face, looking down at all the small humans with their parents. He must admit, if there was one thing he didn’t like about Artemis’ new school, it would be the uniforms. The tiny, navy blue polo his son had to wear under the long sleeve shirt with the logo of the school embroidered on his shirt was a little too formal on his opinion, but it was part of the rules.

Harry’s smile grew at the sight of his son waiting for him. “Daddy!” Artemis was the one who spotted him first, getting up from his chair and running towards him. “You came!”

“Of course I came.” Harry said, his hands ran through the mop of curls Artemis had. “Go for your bag, I’ll say hello to your teacher.”

Artemis did what his daddy told him, and when he passed next to Allison, he made an ‘I told you so’ expression. “Told you I wasn’t a bloody liar!” The little girl opened her mouth in offense, but to be fair she didn’t believe him when he told her.

“Hi, I’m Artemis’ dad.” Harry offered the teacher a smile as they shook hands. It was still surreal to him introducing himself as a father, and it never failed to put a smile on his face. “I’m sorry I didn’t come earlier, things have been a little hectic at work and I’ve been out of town.”

“Uh, It-it’s okay. It’s nice to meet you Mr. Styles.” The woman in front of him was nervous and he was sure she wasn’t aware who Artemis’ father was. “I don’t know if you’ve received the email yet, but we’re having a small gathering with the parents on Wednesday so they could come talk about their jobs to the kids and stuff.”

He nodded. “Thank you for telling me. I’ll talk to my girlfriend about it but you’ll see either of us here.” He gave her one last smile before he took Artemis’ hand in his. “Let’s go, baby. Say bye to your teacher.”

“Bye!” The little boy waved to her before turning his attention back to his daddy. They walked outside of the school at to his car, Harry listening closely to what Artemis was telling him. “Allison didn’t believe you were my daddy!”

“She didn’t?” He asked as he lifted Artemis to put him on his car seat. “Why wouldn’t she?”

“She said her mummy told her you were a rock star or something.” He shrugged. “But you can be both right? A rock star and my daddy?”

“Of course I can be both!” He exclaimed, kissing the top of his head.

Harry carried Artemis’ backpack inside while the small boy ran towards the living room, in look for his mummy. “She’s in her office, mate.”

“Is she working?” Harry hummed in confirmation.

While Y/N was working in her office, Harry helped Artemis clean up before they started lunch together. When the food was ready, she finally came out of the room and went to find her boys. “Hello, darlings.” She said.

“Mummy!” Artemis ran towards his mum and gave her a hug.

The family of three ate happily, conversation never dying down because of the small bubble of joy that couldn’t stop talking with his parents. He’d talk until he became too tired he had to be put down to his afternoon nap. Harry was putting everything in the dishwasher when Y/N came back down, wrapping her arms around his waist from behind.

“I met Artemis’ teacher today.” She hummed in response. “She uh, did she tell you about the parent thingy?”

“What?”

“You know, where parents go talk to the kids about their jobs.”

“Oh, I didn’t think they’d do that.”

“Have you gone to one?”

“Yeah, last year at Artemis’ old school. It was fun.”

“It’s on Wednesday.”

“I think it will be good if you go.” Harry turned around to see her, thinking she wasn’t serious. “What? You don’t think so?”

“No, no. It’s not that. I just thought you’d want to go.”

“I’m sure Artemis would want you there, your job is more interesting.” She joked, making hum frown.

“That’s not true.”

“You’re right. But i still think you should go."

Taking a deep breath, Harry entered the classroom. He has has a little wardrobe crisis trying to decide what should he wear to the event. He didn't want to be too formal, quickly deciding that a suit wouldn't be the his first choice. But he didn't want to be too casual either, his job might not require a tux and a tie but showing up in sweatpants and a hoodie wasn't a choice either. So he settled for a pair brown slacks that he paired with a white button up shirt and some gucci loafers.

He wanted to make his son proud so he has also prepared for any questions the kids might have. He didn't consider his job to be more important than the others, but the children would probably be interested when a man with an unconventional job walks in.

There were already a few parents standing in one side of the classroom when he arrived, and a man was in the middle of explaining what he did for a living while standing in the middle of the room. Harry immediately spotted Artemis sitting on a chair, however he was looking around the room trying to find his daddy.

When his hazel eyes met Harry's green ones, the little boy smiled widely, glad he was finally there. Harry made him a sign, silently telling him to pay attention to the other parents until it was Harry's turn.

It had been fifteen minutes since he arrived and he was finally next in line. Currently, a middle aged woman was explaining how she was an accountant and trying to make numbers sound interesting to a bunch of five year olds. Nonetheless, Harry clapped when the woman finished talking and that encouraged the kids to clap too.

The teacher made him a sign and Harry stepped in the middle of the room. "Hello, my name's Harry."

"That's my dad!" He heard Artemis exclaim from his seat.

"That's right." He chuckled. "I'm uh, i'm a musician, which means i make music for a living." He started saying. "We all like music, right?" The children cheered. "I love music, and the reason why i do what i do is to try and make people feel something through my music." Harry was actually trying to make it interesting, so he decided to add a twist. "My job also makes me travel the world constantly."

"Have you been to Japan?" One boy asked.

"I have, yes. I like to learn from the countries I visit, and Japan is one of our favorites. Right, pal?" He looked at Artemis for confirmation. "Last time I was there, I took my family to this beautiful place to eat. Unfortunately, they didn't have forks and we had to eat everything with chopsticks. My... girlfriend didn't know how to use them, and in one wrong move she sent flying a piece of sushi to the table next to us, can you believe it?!" The kids laughed.

"What else do you do?"

"I tour the world, and bring my music anywhere I can. Have you ever been to a concert?" Some kids nodded and some others shook their heads. "Well, concerts are a lot of fun, you'll see when you get older. One time i forgot my passport at home, and couldn't get on my flight. I had a concert to give!"

"And what did you do?"

"Artemis here delivered it, right son?" The curly haired boy nodded shyly at his dad.

"Where do you get your inspiration from?" One little girl asked, raising her hand before speaking.

He smiled, not expecting that question from a child. "From life, honestly. As you get older you try and find a way of expressing yourself and art is very important. You see, there's a lot of ways we can comunicate without having an actual conversation. It can be through a painting, or a poem, perhaps even dancing. I chose to do it on a song. What i write about? Things that makes me happy. And what makes me happy? Well, that's easy. My family."

☁☁☁☁☁☁☁☁☁☁☁☁

taglist!

@myfavfanficsever @odetostep @la-cey @cock-a-doodely-doo @awkwardbullfrog @mellamolayla @moorgannn @bagtan-serendipity @awesomebooklover17 @finelineribs @sunnybusiness @beanholland @sweetenerstyle @cronias13 @vhsharry @maisley @seasidecrowbar @stylesfics-xx @autumnpauley20 @fineline-hs1 @stephaniemalvie @immajustreadwritereblog @jadert15 @iguessweallcrazyithinktho @abundanceofsoph @harrysthicccthighs @megaprincesscakes

#harry styles #harry styles x reader #harry styles x y/n #harry styles one shot #harry styles fluffy imagine #harry styles imagine #harry styles blurb #harry styles imagines #harry styles x you #harry styles au #dad!harry #stepdad!harry #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fic #harry styles fluff fic #harry styles fluff

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ldouble · 4 years ago

Text

You Smell Good | Harry Styles X Reader

summary: You and Harry prepare for the Met Gala. The only thing you fixate on...other than everything...is the way you smell. Harry on the other hand, can’t get enough of it.

if we like this enough...should it be a senses series?

----------

this gif is not mine credit to harryisart omg i love this

You can’t help but tug at your sleeves. Someone’s hand shoos it away which you let. That is until your collar seems off. When you’re bugged away from that part of your clothing you find another to busy yourself with. Then its your hair. Your makeup. Your nails.

You’re above to dive into your skin (it looks wayyyyyy too orange) when the hands finally have a voice.

“Stop it.”

You roll your neck dramatically, flopping your chin down to glare at Harry. Sitting in a director’s chair, getting his hair done. It was a ridiculous thought when he was first placed there, his holding a fourth of what you have attached to yours but it now makes sense considering he’s been there for about double the amount of times yours took.

At the thought of it, your fingers move up unconsciously to pick at your styled mane. But, having discovered his speech is much stronger than his hands, Harry tag teams the two.

“You look fine.”

“Says you.” You shoot back, going to pick at the skin around your fingers.

Suddenly all movement is paused as your hands are clasped tight in Harry’s, his eyes finding yours. His smile is gentle which makes his next words the most surprising.

“Says what about me?”

Your head tips back at his humorous suffering. It’s when he’s halfway through a monologue about the time and money and oh so painful hours of planning that went into his look, you’re clutching your stomach and begging him to stop.

“Now I’m really going to mess something up.”

Harry sighs, tilting his head away from the stylist to get a good look at you. “You could never.”

You suck in a breathe. The hotel room has been hot for hours. The people in and out, the steamers and blow dryers and the shots that Harry has been sending since lunch has made the whole space...staticy.

One more intense look or loving statement from your friend and you’re sure to stain the black dress you wear.

Said to be impossible but nothing is, not when you’re about to walk down the Met Gala pink carpet with your best friend since diapers.

Especially since you’re not wearing diapers.

You’re wearing clothes more expensive than what God himself wears in a suite straight out the montages of movies and the water you’ve been drinking is so heavy it makes you think you’re drinking liquid gold.

Or maybe that’s just the nerves bunching in your stomach that’s causing everything you send down to feel like its all going to come back up.

You put a hand to your mouth, close your eyes and try to count to ten.

But its the thing that touches you gently on the cheek that relaxes you.

It’s not six hundred dollar hair brush or a touch up from a celebrity stylist. The complimentary moisturizer of the hotel (which only exists in places like these) doesn’t skim your skin.

Its a priceless hand that grazes you, sending every worry and knot away just like room service was cleared earlier.

You can’t help but lean into his touch, take a deep breath of hair product and the horrible smelling perfume someone sprayed on you.

Your eyes open when you sense him leaning in, making you all but freeze. What could he be thinking?

“You smell terrible.”

Of course that’s what he’s thinking.

“You, Mr. Co Chair, put so much thought and effort and money into this thing,” You say, moving to look in the mirror he facing. The sight of you both so done up and put together (a real change from the sweatshirts you live in when back in London when watching all of the events like the one you’re about to be in) makes you stumble. Harry begins to turn his head, forcing you to grab him and face it back to your reflection. “And the one thing you fumble on in my perfume.”

“Trust me every choice was mine,” Harry defends as I stand to rumble through my suitcase. The duffel, a Year 10 gym bag you still use, had been useless all night. Until now of course. “Except that.”

You shrug, wandering back over to him, your own personal balm in hand. “Hey, I’m not the one who has to whisper in my ear and tell me how pretty I am all night and ingest a whiff of what smells like dog poop.”

Harry’s head tips back with a laugh as you uncap the bottle, handing it to him. “I thought I could whisper in your hear and tell you how awful you smell. Think of the faces you’d make for the cameras.”

“Don’t even.” You turn, holding your ponytail up (much to the dismay of the stylist packing up across the room. “Spritz a tad on my neck will you.”

“Interesting spot.” Harry mumbles, doing as told.

“I’m expecting a kiss from some celebrity there tonight.” You flip back once the cool mist hits you. Harry’s eyes are stuck on your exposed collarbone but you pretend not to notice as you reach for the bottle. “Can’t have him knowing I smell.”

“Right.” Harry squints.

You spritz your wrists, rub them together and then bend down to the slit in the back of your dress. “If you fan my dress out I can’t have you bunching up your nose.”

Harry takes the nose tap, grabbing your hand afterwards. He then dips down to sniff your wrists, a content smile on his lips as he looks up. “Much better.”

“See, if you had known you had an opinion on how I smelled, you would’ve thought of this earlier.” You shake the perfume bottle at him, straightening out your dress as he stands up, going as far to help you get situated.

“Like I would’ve been able to capture it.”

“Capture what?” You smile, accepting your purse form one of the thousand of people in the room. You do it absently mindly having not noticed them in a while. With Harry it always feels like just you two.

You assume he thinks the same, especially the way he ignores final touch ups and looks at you like you really are the only other breathing thing in the vicinity. “Harry.”

He purses his lips as you egg him on. You seem him bite the inside of his cheek and it amkes you want to out a hand on it. But the way the room got so hot when he did that to you. And now with everyone moving around and the nerves building as someone shouts out something about arrival approaching...you couldn’t take it.

You never could.

Why were you doing this? How did you ever say yes to going out there with him in front of everyone? This was the freaking Met Gala. You hadn’t so much as gone on stage with him. Being with Harry was great. Being with Harry with the whole world was horrible.

At least you thought.

You saw how other best friends were treated. Talked about. Lied about. Made up about.

He was your best friend.

You couldn’t take it.

“Capture all you are to me in some dinky little bottle.” He finished, bending down to grab your focus.

It works. He could take it. Your eyes. And he did.

He takes more than that though. Again the nerves fly away and the knots undo and you’re left just being you.

It’s good you smell like you too.

You shrug again, making your way to the door with his hand in yours. You’ve always had to pull him along. Never before had you thought you would do this at the Met Gala but the usual finds its self in the unusual.

“You’re just lucky. You might not have a supermodel date but you’ve got a girl who smells just like-”

“You.”

You look back at him, your purse falling to the ground at the sight of his eyes all hazy and his smile so sweet.

His words are stunning. God damn soulful.

Dressed in his Gucci sheer ensemble, it’s like he’s singing at the fanciest of events to the girl of his dreams.

But it’s just you. A girl wearing 10 dollar perfume from the corner store.

It’s his turn to pull you. You switch spots as you’re frozen in yours and he leads you into the hallway, grabbing your bag on the way.

“You smell like you and hair spray and the onion ring you just ate.”

Your hand flies to your mouth for a breath check when he pulls you close in the elevator.

“You smell great.”

You look up at him, a smile on your lips.

“And you,” Your hands can’t help but play with the ribbons on his collar. “Have smelled better nearly every other time.”

He chuckles, his top teeth hugging his bottom lip. The ding of the elevator sounds before the car stops with a thud. People are moving. There’s talking. There’s so much going on but all you can smell is....

Carpet cleaner.

And windex for the mirror walls.

And Harry.

You can’t wait to see what else you sense along the way.

#harry styles #harry styles x reader #harry styles fan fic #harry styles fanfiction #metgala #harry #harry styles x blurb #harry styles blurb #harry styles one shot

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jaedore · 5 years ago

Photo

BINDING BONDS | 1

< next

parings: jung jaehyun x reader

genre: ceo!au, arranged marriage!au, (semi) angst, consumption of alcohol, asshole/player Jaehyun, swearing

note: BB deals with themes of mental and physical abuse, which can be upsetting for some readers. If you feel uncomfortable reading these types of plots, you are advised to not continue

[ 4.9 k words ]

Out of breath. That’s what you felt when you woke up this morning and saw that you were going to be late to work.

��SHOOT!” you jolted out of bed and sprinted to the bathroom.

Today was the first day where you would work under your mother to prove to her that you’re worth the CEO position. Your mother was the CEO of Audace, a clothing line competing against other luxury brands such as Gucci, CocoChanel, Versace, Louis Vuitton. Today, you couldn’t afford to be late, so there you were, sloppily throwing makeup on your face in your bathroom.

“Not today, you’re not gonna ruin this y/n,” you talked to your reflection.

As soon as you looked as ready as you could be, you rushed out the door of your apartment and into your car.

“Whatever, I’m already late,” you sighed and as soon as you knew it, you were taking a detour to the coffee shop.

Parking your car, you shut the door and entered the little coffee shop. It was always your favorite, even though you never drank coffee. The comfort it held, held a soft spot in your heart.

“Hey Soojin, I’ll have my usual,” you smiled, setting your sunglasses on top of your head, “Oh! And a medium chai for my mom please,” you figured that you could bring her her favorite drink while you were at it.

“Of course, $5.75 please.”

You swiped your card and stood aside, waiting for your drink. You sat at the nearest table and looked at the little pot of sunflowers sitting in the center. You ran your fingers against the soft petals, but soon your thoughts were interrupted by a call.

You sighed looking at the contact, “morning, mother.”

“Why are you late? You were supposed to be here half an hour ago,” she asked.

“I overslept and made a little detour,” you simply replied.

“Y/n!” As soon as you heard your name called, you stood up and grabbed both of your drinks.

You nodded at Soojin to thank her and rushed out of the coffee shop.

“Well you better be on your way in the next half hour because we have a meeting with our joint company, got it?” Your mother sternly said as you opened the door with your back.

“Of course! I’m coming right n-HEY! Watch it!!” you yelled.

You looked down at your stained white blazer and blouse. The iced matcha you were dying to drink was suddenly gone and absorbed into your shirt. It was the first blazer your mother bought you for your first day of working with her.

“Chill, princess, you were in my way” the man stood in front of you, the nickname he gave you frustrated you even more.

The man stood tall and confident, he was wearing his own suit and he wore it well, too bad your drink spilled a bit on him.

“Do you have a napkin?” you desperately asked him.

“Only my handkerchief,” he replied.

“Oh, thank you,” you reached to grab it from his blazer pocket until he stepped to the side.

“I never offered it to you,” he bluntly said, taking it out and wiping himself instead.

Surprised at his comment, you huffed in defeat and walked to your car. You couldn’t be late to the joint company meeting.

“Hey, mom,” you walked into her office.

“Hey-oh...what happened to you?” your mother looked up from the papers in front of her.

“Some douche ran into me on my way out to the coffee shop,” you muttered.

“My blazer’s in the closet, grab it before we go,” your mother pointed to the closet.

The only option was a navy blue blazer so you grabbed it and buttoned it, hiding your stained blouse. After you fixed yourself, it was time for you and your mother to go to the meeting. Thankfully the CEO was coming to Audace’s building.

“We’re meeting with Jung Corporation, they’re the biggest trading company here,” your mom explained as she reread the files in her hands.

“But we don’t need to trade...Audace is international,” you stated.

“Yes I know, but it’s got to do with partnerships, stocks, it’s a joint business partnership, y/n,” she explained.

The elevator bell rang and the two of you left for the meeting room.

“Anyways, we’re meeting to discuss our joint business celebration that’s happening this Saturday,” your mom continued.

“Shoot,” you whispered to yourself.

“Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten,” your mom stopped walking to look at you.

“I-I mean I-no I haven’t mom,” you lowered your head, “lets just go, they’re probably waiting for us.”

“Greetings, Mr. Jung! Thank you for coming,” your mom was the first to walk in and shook hands with the man and his wife.

The man was a little older, had some grey streaks in his hair, but still looked fairly well for an older man. His wife stood up and also shook hands with the both of you. She was very beautiful, there wasn’t even a streak of wrinkles, you couldn’t stop looking at her youthful features.

“My apologies, my son couldn’t make it. He had a...minor incident before this,” the wife spoke.

“No worries, I’m sure we’ll be seeing him at our joint business celebration this Saturday” your mother smiled.

The meeting went by smoothly, the talk of the facility, decorations, invitation acceptances, champagne. You had to refrain yourself from yawning so much, the meeting felt like it was never going to end. It felt like forever until the never ending conversations finally stopped.

“So everything’s set!” Mr. Jung clapped.

“Yes, thank you, and thank you Mrs. Jung, for both coming to meet us. We’ll be seeing your family this weekend,” you and your mother shook their hands and walked them out of the building.

“No, y/n I just don’t think it matches your...vibe?” Your friend Haewon brows furred thinking of the right word.

“Well then, I don’t know. Maybe I should just wear one of my older dresses,” you sighed.

“No no no, you can’t do that. We’re going to Versace,” and with that, she took your hand out of the store.

Haewon was your only friend. Growing up, you had a hard time establishing friendships and later on, relationships. As a kid, no one had a desire to be your friend. Your family was one of the richest where you lived so all the little kids were afraid to approach you, intimidated that if they’d get on your bad side, hell would ensue. As for relationships, you never had time for them. Even when you did, the guys were in it for the money and fame, so you saved yourself the energy to pass dating overall.

You opened up your heart to many many people in your life, but it always resulted in them leaving after they took something from you. You learned that the hard way. Each and every time someone left, you guarded yourself more and more. Instead, you went to school, studied hard, and focused on the CEO position your mother was going to pass down to you.

Haewon, was there the entire time. You always laugh to yourself whenever you remember the moment you two met. You met her at a charity ball when you were very young. She took the last cream puff that you wanted and ran off with it, so when you chased her into one of the rooms, you cried to her that you wanted it. Feeling bad, she gave half of it to you. That’s when the friendship began. Even though she’s loud, a talker, and loves to gossip, she’s always been there for you during hard times.

“Haewon, I’m tired and my feet hurt, can we just-”

“No, we are not going, I’m going to make sure that you look so good at this celebration. Especially when the Jungs are going to be there,” her eyes widen looking at the wide variety of dresses.

“Huh?” you furrowed your brows.

“Oh you haven’t seen? Their only son, Jung Jaehyun, he is-oh my gosh- he is the most beautiful man you will ever see,” Haewon gushed.

“I...doubt that,” you walked ahead of her, searching for a dress.

“Just wait until you see him! He is gorgeous, but…” Haewon paused.

“But what?” you asked not taking your eyes off your choices.

“He kinda likes to uh...play around?” Haewon cautiously said.

“Really?” you hummed uninterested as you still browsed the dresses.

And that was the truth, you were truly uninterested. You thought men like him were a waste of time, they’d never survive in the world of business.

“Girls say that he never gets into serious relationships. The ones that I’ve talked to, had either one night stands or flings with him, but sadly, nothing serious…” Haewon pouted.

“Guess we’ll just have to confirm that on Saturday,” you picked up a dress.

“Oh, that’s perfect,” your best friend’s eyes widen in awe.

Saturday came closer than you thought. You just got back from helping your parents prepare for the celebration, along with the Jungs. And again, the famous Jaehyun still didn’t show up.

You picked up the Barocco Signature Shift Dress that you bought from Versace the other day and carefully slipped into it. After you got yourself ready, you drove yourself back to the facility. There were already so many cars, the sudden amount of people overwhelmed you. You parked your car and sat there, leaning your head against the steering wheel. As a baby, before you could even walk, you were taught a certain way to act at events like these. At the same time, you didn’t find joy in being the center of attention and being presented in front of a crowd like a...prize. It was draining.

Ring ring ring!!

“Hello?” you cleared your throat as you answered.

“Y/n, are you coming yet? The Jungs will be coming here soon,” your mother said on the other line.

“Uh yeah, I just parked,” you sighed, rubbing your forehead hoping that the marks from the steering wheel didn’t tattoo on your forehead.

With your Runway Virtus Mini Chain Wallet, you walked into the facility that held the large room. There were two staircases on both sides of the room that went up to an indoor balcony that oversaw the whole room.

“Y/n, over here,” your mom waved to you.

As you walked over, you spotted Mr. Jung and his wife standing behind your mother.

“Hello,” you bowed to them.

“You look so beautiful, y/n,” Mrs. Jung hugged you.

“Thank you, you look wonderful,” you complimented.

“Oh honey, where’s Jaehyun?” she asked her husband.

“He said he’s going to be late,” Mr. Jung’s lips thinned, fists tightening.

“No problem, I’m sure we’ll see him in a bit,” your mother said.

You excused yourself to grab some champagne. You could feel it in your spine that it was going to be a long, long night. As people started to pour in, the music got louder and the hotter it got. People came by and greeted you, giving out small talk. After a while, you excused yourself to grab more champagne.

When you could feel the temperature in your body rise, you fanned yourself as you walked up to the balcony to oversee everyone. Despite the second level, it was still cooler. You sighed, sipping on your champagne thinking to yourself how much more you can drink in order to still drive.

“It’s quieter up here,” A low voice came from behind you.

It was the guy, the guy from earlier who spilt your iced matcha. He was dressed in a sleek suit and tie that framed his broad shoulders and lean physique.

“You,” your eyes slightly widen, “who are you to be here?”

“I’ll leave that for you to figure out,” he sipped on his drink, looking down at the crowd.

“No I’m serious, I’ve never seen you before, but apparently you made it through security,” you stated, mumbling the last part.

“Just know that I’m significant enough to make it in,” he turned towards you, eyeing you up and down.

“Although, I can say the same thing, I don’t know who you are, yet you managed to make it in too,” he raised a brow.

“I’m-”

“Didn’t ask,” he waved his hand up and dismissed you off.

You bend your neck to the side and think to yourself, who this man was and who he was to be acting like that. Someone so forthright, rude, and upfront disrespectful. Before you spoke up, another girl around your age came to his side, wrapping her arms around his.

“There you are, I’ve been looking all over for you!” she smiled.

“Just wanted to get some air,” he looked back down and gazed at the crowd as she pecked his cheek.

Girlfriend…? You took another sip and walked away from the couple. You thought to yourself if you’d ever get to that stage in life. To be in a relationship where things were gentle, comfortable, and felt like home. You had to remind yourself that you didn’t have that kind of luxury.

“Ahem, excuse me!” Your mom stood on stage holding onto a microphone and her glass of champagne.

“We would just like to thank all of you who were able to make it to our celebration,” she spoke happily, “being able to become partners with Jung Corporation is such an honor. With this, we hope to expand more internationally. At the same time, I would like to introduce my daughter to everyone,” the light panned on you.

Oh mother, what are you thinking? You sighed, she didn’t inform you on this. You walked up on stage and presented your best smile. You didn’t have a speech written down, so you were only relying on what sounded reliable and serious in your brain.

“Tonight isn’t just about Jung Corporation and Audace joining businesses, it’s also about our future generation! As you all know, I will be retiring soon, and I want everyone to know who will be taking my position,” your mother explained, “This lovely young lady, is my daughter, y/n. I want you guys to know that she wasn’t given this position. I pushed her to the bottom of the chain and told her to work herself up. She did it quicker than I thought,” she winked to the audience, earning several laughs.

“Y/n?” Your mother turned her attention back to you, “how about a few words?”

You adjusted the microphone to your level and began speaking. You weren’t as nervous as you thought, probably because you’ve done this a dozen times already.

“Good evening everyone, as you know, I will be taking over the CEO position soon,” your voice echoed throughout the facility, “I want everyone to know that this isn’t all fun and games. The world we live in doesn’t grant wishes and it most certainly won’t go the way we want. Business is one of the biggest factors that make the world go around. So, when you invest in us, you are entirely with us the whole way. You are part of the family, and so with this, I hope you can warmly welcome me into it,” you smiled as you bowed and left the stage after the audience clapped.

It was Mr. Jung’s turn to speak. He gave a few wise words, but you were way too hot to stay for the entire speech so you left to go outside to the garden. As you were leaving, you could hear him faintly introducing his son, who apparently, finally made it to the event. You knew you should’ve stayed to meet him, but you figured that you’d see him sooner or later. He’s the one who’s been absent anyways.

“Honey, what are you doing out here?” It was your father.

“Father!” you jumped from your seat to hug him, you didn’t think he’d come, “I was just getting some air. What are you doing here?”

“I decided to take a little time off. Work was getting overwhelming, so I’m taking a few weeks off. Hopefully I can spend time with you and your mother,” he smiled.

Your dad held the CEO position of a law firm in the overseas, so that’s where he mostly was. Of course he came home for the holidays, birthdays, celebrations, and other important things. Your parents were married, but they were forced to be. Nonetheless, they learned to love each other so you grew up with a healthy childhood. You wondered if your parents had thought about forcing you to marry someone as you were around the age they also got married.

After you and your father got the chance to catch up, you two went back inside to join the celebration. The night consisted of exchanged laughs, short conversations, and business plans. Soon, people trickled out and before you knew it, it was midnight. Sleep was beginning to call your name, you were ready to walk out the door until your mother stopped you.

“Where are you going? We have important matters to talk about with the Jungs,” she waved for you to come back.

“Really mother? It’s past midnight, what’s so important that we have to talk at this time?” you frustratedly asked, all you wanted was to take off the tight dress, high heels, and the makeup that sat on your skin.

“No, come,” she gently grabbed your arm, dragging you to an office room.

When you went in, your father sat on the leather seat and the Jungs sat on the other side of the room, leaving two seats in the middle of the room. The guy you met earlier was sitting in one of them. The one who spilled your iced matcha on you and approached you on the balcony.

“What’s going on?” you quietly asked.

“Sit please,” she let go as you obeyed her.

Please don’t be the son, please don’t be the son, please don’t be the son. You mentally pleaded.

“Y/n, this is my son Jaehyun. My apologies that you had to finally meet him,” Mrs. Jung said.

Shit. Your eyes widened looking at him, and he held your gaze, you could see his dark orbs hold frustration and curiosity.

“As you two know, we now hold a joint business partnership,” Mr. Jung began from his seat.

Based on his tone, you knew that he wasn’t going to be delivering good news. You could feel the beating in your heart pick up.

“And that means that you were joined based on an agreement,” your mother finished his statement.

By this time, your palms were sweating and you held your breath to stabilize your breathing. You just wanted to get this over with, but you weren’t ready for the bad news.

“You two will be getting married,” Mr. Jung spilled.

“What??” You and him both turned your heads towards Mr. Jung.

“No,” Jaehyun stood up, “There is no way I am marrying her,” he spat out, pointing at you.

Yes, you were hurt by his words, but you were focused more on the big announcement.

“Jaehyun, you don’t have a choice,” Mrs. Jung gently said, patting his shoulder.

He moved from her touch as he mumbled something you couldn’t comprehend. The sound of voices tuned out into nothing as vexation clouded your mind.

“Don’t say that you don’t know her,” his mother whispered as she pleaded with him.

The room was soon filled with arguments with Jaehyun and his parents. He was clearly frustrated and the boom in his voice told you so. You had to cover your ears to block out the loudness of his voice that managed to slither its way into your head. You pressed your hands against your forehead to stop yourself from shaking.

You paused for a second, calming yourself down before you stood up, “I’m not getting married to him.”

“Yeah, same. Anyone but her,” Jaehyun commented.

“ENOUGH JUNG JAEHYUN,” his father stood up and shouted at him.

His wife, Jaehyun, you, and your family all stood in shock.

“Mr. Jung, don’t be so harsh. We just announced it to them, let them process it for a few days,” your mother gently spoke, holding onto your father.

“She’s right honey,” Mrs. Jung grabbed onto her husband’s shoulder.

“I don’t think anyone understood what I just said, I’m not getting married to him,” you repeated in a low tone, running out of patience.

“Y/n-” before your mother spoke, you were already out the door.

When you finally arrived at your apartment, you threw your heels to the ground and quickly unzipped your dress. Tossing it onto your bed, you immediately went to the shower to get yourself cleaned. As the hot water relaxes your muscles you think about the announcement that was made a while ago. You couldn’t believe your parents were forcing you to marry him. Fucking Jung Jaehyun.

Wait- but how come I never seen him before? You sighed to yourself as you wrapped the towel around you.

Trudging to your bedroom, you pulled out your pajamas and immediately buried yourself under your blankets. Before you could manage to fall asleep, you mother called.

“Yes mom?” you were beginning to get tired of her constant calling, but you couldn’t because she is your mother.

“Where are you? Are you okay?” She feverishly asked.

“Mother, I’m fine. I’m back at my place, I just need to sleep. Please, let’s just talk about this another time, okay?” You begged her.

“At least you're safe. Good night,” she said hanging up.

With that, you set your phone back onto the night stand and finally dozed off.

Jaehyun on the other hand wasn’t handling it well. He left right after you did, but he didn’t go to his place. Instead, he went to the nightclub run by his friend. He immediately went to the bar, started drowning himself in drinks, and making out with random girls who begged for his attention.

“Dude, stop this,” Taeyong, the nightclub owner, sat next to his best friend.

Jaehyun pushed the girl who sat on his lap away from him to speak, “you don’t understand” he slurred.

After Taeyong didn’t say anything, Jaehyun aggressively grabbed the girl from her nape and continued making out with her. He groaned as her heated core moved against his member. Before it got even more heated, Taeyong spoke up.

“You’re right, I probably won’t understand, but it’s not gonna be any better if you don’t tell me.” Jaehyun waved his friend off, clearly too busy exchanging saliva with the girl sitting on his lap.

“Okay,” Taeyong had enough of Jaehyun’s behavior.

He gently pushed the girl off Jaehyun’s lap and dragged his best friend away from the booth.

“Dude, what the hell?!” Jaehyun shouted.

Taeyong politely bowed to the customers who snapped their heads towards Jaehyun’s shouting, “Come on, you’re drunk. Let’s get you home.”

Jaehyun struggled getting out of his friend’s grasp, it didn’t help that he was intoxicated. Taeyong dragged him to his car and sped off. It took awhile for Jaehyun to calm down.

“I’m getting married,” Jaehyun whispered, his head against the window.

“Really? This is about that?” Taeyong curiously asked.

“But it’s not like that,” Jaehyun glared at his friend.

“O-oh?”

“It’s an arranged marriage,” he announced.

Taeyong didn’t speak, he kept his vision on the road thinking of something to say. To break the quietness that swallowed them.

“Have you met her yet?” he finally asked.

“Yeah, she was the one who spilled her drink on me, then I met her at the party,” Jaehyun slowly said.

“Oh her? What’s her name?” Taeyong suddenly became interested.

“I don’t know and I don’t fucking care,” Jaehyun grumbled, throwing his head back on the seat.

“Jae, come on, you don’t even know her. She can’t be that bad,” Taeyong stated.

“Whatever man, she’s the daughter of the CEO of Audace,”

“What? Really? You’re getting married to y/n l/n, Jae. The y/n l/n.”

“So?” Jaehyun furrowed his brows.

“Are you kidding me? That’s where I get all of my business wear,” Taeyong said in awe.

“That’s not significant, Taeyong.” Jaehyun said before dozing off.

“I mean, I don’t know her personally, but I heard she’s cute,” Taeyong chuckled to himself.

“Why don’t you get married to her instead?” Jaehyun retorted.

“You know what? May-”

“Just shut up and drive,” Jaehyun rubbed his temples.

“Wait, but what are you going to tell Gaeul?” Taeyong asked.

“What- that girl I brought to the celebration? It was nothing to begin with, so who cares? After I don’t respond to her for a couple of days, I’m sure she’ll understand,” Jaehyun quietly replied before quietly falling back asleep.

“I’m telling you man, you gotta stop doing that…” Taeyong sighed as his drunk friend fell asleep.

You woke up to the sunlight aiming at your face. You groaned and turned around, hoping your body would fall back asleep. It was your last day before you had to go back to work and the last thing you needed was to be forcibly woken. That wish didn’t stay long until you heard your phone ring. It was your mother...again.

“What mother?” You groggily got up.

“Are you up yet? I need you to come over right now. The Jungs are also coming,” she sounded in a rush.

You shot up, “seriously? Now?” You looked down at your thin pajama shirt that loosely hung from your shoulders and your messy hair poking in every direction, you were far from ready.

“Yeah, Jaehyun’s coming too,” she cautiously said. This was probably unplanned by the warriness of her voice.

“I’ll see you in a bit,” you heavily sighed before groaning, your body falling back onto your bed.

In the car ride, your mind wandered to the conversation last night. You felt hurt that he didn’t want to marry you, it didn’t make a difference because you didn’t want to marry him because of the kind of guy he was.

“I’m not that bad...right?” you whispered to yourself.

To be honest, after all of those individuals who’ve left you, it really questioned your self-worth. It took years for you to love yourself and not have anyone tear you down.

Jaehyun barely let you talk, so it’s not like he knows you. You had to remind yourself that you meant business and you weren’t going to let him tear you down. He already wasn’t fond of you, you giving him the cold shoulder shouldn’t be a problem.

As soon as you got home, the Jungs’ car was already parked in the driveway. You assumed that Jaehyun drove separately since there was another car you didn’t recognize. You gave the driver your keys and walked inside. They all sat in the living room of your large home. It’s been so long since you’ve come back, the smell was nostalgic, you were reminded of your childhood, everything used to be so easy.

“Good morning,” you held your chin high and greeted everyone.

“Have you eaten yet?” your mother asked.

“No, I don’t have the appetite,” you sighed, sitting down, “I have things to do so, let’s get to it please.”

“Well,” your mother breathed, “as you know, you two will be getting married soon.”

You looked up at her figure, “mother, I thought I made myself clear, I’m not marrying him,” before you stood up again, your father held you by your shoulder.

“Just...hear us out please, both of you,” Mr. Jung said, “we’ve become joint businesses because that’s what’s best for the business. With you two as the major players, the media will go crazy once they hear you two are getting married and the stocks will rise.”

You frowned at his commentary. Players? Does he think this is a game? Seems like money is all he cares about. You sighed, setting your sunglasses on top of your head, a sign that you’re willing to stay and listen.

“And what if we don’t agree?” Jaehyun asked, to be honest you forgot about him.

Jaehyun sat on the couch across from you, he looked like he hasn’t slept in days. His eyes held bags under them and his face was a little swollen. You scoffed to yourself.

Poor boy must have a hangover. What a mess. Jaehyun maintained eye contact with you, he knew what you were thinking and he glared at you for thinking it.

You turned your head towards his father who began speaking again, “So, we wanted to gift you guys an apartment.”

“Father,” Jaehyun’s tone rose.

“You are getting married and that’s it,” Mr. Jung stated, “end of discussion.”

“Yes, I agree,” you looked at your mother in shock.

You couldn’t actually believe she was going along with this, “mother,” you began.

“Enough, y/n. It’s done. We just want you guys to get as comfortable with each other as soon as you can. We want the wedding to happen this summer.”

“Mother, it’s January,” you retorted.

Did she really think that you could get to know a person, let alone, love someone within six, seven months? Insane. INSANE! You thought to yourself, Especially if it’s Jung Jaehyun.

You sighed before standing from the couch, “well if this is done, then I’ll get going,” you bowed then walked towards the door.

“You’re not going to stay and have lunch with us?” Your mother asked.

“I told you before, I don’t have the appetite,” you shut the door without saying goodbye.

You stood in front of the door, not moving since you shut it. Most of the time you were rarely mad at your parents, but this made you absolutely livid. How could they just marry you off like that? You’re not even 25 yet, you have so much to do, discover, to love.

The door harshly swung open and you slightly jumped from the impacted sound it made as he slammed it shut. You turned around to see Jaehyun looking down at you.

“I-” you began, soon being interrupted by him.

“One,” he held up a finger, coming closer to you, “when we get married I don’t want you thinking that everything is happy and everything is fine. Two, I don’t want you clinging onto me when we’re in public, and most certainly, number three, never call me your husband. Don’t even call me your fiance now.” As he got closer with each rule, you could feel his breath leaving his lips as he reached the last one.

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