#the amount of time i spent making sure his stripes were consistent...

[nonbinary-arsonists]

he has very interesting (violent, unhinged) ways of showing affection

[sunflowerstache]

the one where you’re Harry’s tailor

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

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

NORA’S MASTERLIST  |  SARAH’S MASTERLIST

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

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

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

Without any hesitation, you nodded in agreement.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes,” he grinned. “You do.”

“Like…?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Know a Brit when I hear one.”

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

He did.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Both.”

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

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

“Preferably not.”

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

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

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

“Try to relax.”

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

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

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

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

“Yeah?”

You nodded.

“Ever had someone tailor you?”

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

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

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

“Count me in after July.”

“Oh?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Where abouts are you going?”

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

“Really?” Your smile grew bigger.

Harry’s smile mirrored yours. “Yeah.”

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

“Right then.” He said. “Hit me.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He didn’t respond.

“Harry?”

“Huh?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

He hissed.

You glanced over at him. “What’s up?”

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

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

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

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

“Exactly.” Harry translated.

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

“What happened to your bleeding finger, mate?”

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

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

“And you’re a tailor.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

Your eyes met, both teary eyed from laughter.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No, that’s art, babe.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“It fits.”

“Nothing bad’s happened?”

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

“Harry ruining the suit.”

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

“He gets clumsy when he’s nervous.”

You frowned. “Harry isn’t nervous.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Do not know. I really don’t.”

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

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

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

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

“I-“

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

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

“I’m not taking your word for it.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Why’d you do that?”

“You were being rude.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Mi scusi, signora.”

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

“Harry?”

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

“What are you doing here?”

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

“Wha - how are yo-?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You too, doll.”

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

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

“Of course he did.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“He’s obsessed with you, you know?”

“He’s not.”

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

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

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

“Just him?”

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

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

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

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

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

“Course, of course.”

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

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

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

“‘M terrified.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But none of that held your attention.

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

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

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

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

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

“How are you feeling?”

Alessandro wrapped his right arm around your shoulder, pulling you so close to his body that it was most comfortable for you to wrap one arm around his back and one around his waist, your hands joining together at his hip. “I feel so much love.”

That was the only way to describe what the two of you were feeling as the show progressed through the museum. Even though the room was dark, tall lighting setups hung in every direction, and hundreds of guests were posted up in chairs, the beauty of the location still shined through. Black and white marble covered the floor throughout the entire building, the diamond pattern flowing easily from room to room, and sculptures of ancient men lined each side of the hallway, seemingly growing from the walls because of the similar colors. About halfway down the hallway, models made a left turn and entered the large area known as Palazzo Nuovo. The “New Palace” was constructed over 400 years ago and was an identical replica of the Palazzo dei Conservatori that Michaelangelo created. You had been to the location many times before since spending 6 months at a time in Italy, but you had never seen it as a place to hold a show. Not until Alessandro had brought you one day and explained his vision as you roamed the hallways.

The quick pass of a red beret on one of the monitors, set up for the backstage team to watch the show, caught your attention. He stayed on camera for a bit, and you wished you could watch his fans meltdown over it in real time because he looked exquisite. Despite the darkness of the room, Harry was glowing. The way the strobe lights would hit his face every few steps and accentuate his already angelic features made your stomach clench. You had spent countless hours up close and personal with Harry, while there was very little fabric covering his body; very intimate and unforgettable moments. Many a-second-too-long looks, smiles when the other wasn’t watching, and an intense almost kiss. And an actual kiss. A tiny kiss. A kiss you still felt on your lips. But now, you were getting hot and bothered thinking about his lips while he strutted down the runway in one of the most conservative outfits of the line.

There was something about the lapel rolls of the jacket flapping open slightly with each step, beautifully showcasing his sparrow tattoos and delicate pendant necklace under the dim lights, that excited you. But it was the faintest smile that graced his lips the second before he left frame that made your heart swell.

The overall look he was sporting was extremely similar to that of his first Men’s Tailoring campaign, with the long robe like jacket and exposed chest, but the glint of both happiness and confidence in his eyes reminded you of the moment you put him into the pink and red ensemble of his latest campaign. Something that still made something inside your tummy flutter and the corners of your mouth tip upward.

“Absolutely fucking not.” Harry said. “I will die. 100%.”

“Stop being so dramatic.” You rolled your eyes, holding the pink blazer up and letting him put both his arms through it. “It’s just pigs.”

“That will have my head if I get too close.”

“This is a Gucci shoot, you’re not on I’m a Celeb.”

Harry huffed, looking at himself in the mirror and adjusting the blazer over his shoulders properly. “Watch me go on I’m a Celeb and die when I get attacked by an exotic animal or summat.”

“A pig won’t be the death of you and it’s not an exotic animal, now shut up and sit down.” You wagged the red bandana at him. “I need to put this on you before we can get this started.”

“Alright then.” Harry shoved his wrists out for you. “Go on.”

You tried to give him a disappointed look, but you simply were not able to. Laughing, you shoved Harry into his seat, standing between his legs as you tied the bandana around his head. This time around, the shoot was mostly indoors, so there weren’t many ways Harry could fuck this one up. Alessandro was busying himself and so were other crew members, walking about you two and shouting orders at someone else, but neither of you noticed anyone but the person before you. Since the lunch in Florence, you had been incredibly busy, so you hadn’t really had much time to meet up. Harry, who was currently travelling and making his second album, hadn’t been available much either, but you were both over the moon that you got to spend this time together. You really missed each other the time you were away.

Since last time, Alessandro had gone out of his way to make rings for those he held dearest. Gold Gucci rings with each person’s initials, one for each letter, big and bold. It had taken you off guard, as you hadn’t thought yourself to be as important to Alessandro as he was to you, but he had insisted and showed you his own. He told you “Dear friends match” and that did it for you, you simply had to wear his rings without question. And since then, you had been wearing them every single day. You felt part of his little family. So when Harry showed up to your third shoot together, wearing matching rings to yours, you felt your heart skip a beat and Alessandro’s knowing eyes on both of you. He would never admit it out loud, but he knew how you both felt for one another, and he thought, by giving you these rings, you might realise how special you were to him and then see how special you were to one another as well.

“You’ll just have to forget about your fear of geese and be a professional.”

“I don’t have a bloody fear of geese.”

You shrugged your shoulders, tying the bandana properly.

“I don’t!”

“Alright, mate.”

Harry paused for a second. “Don’t ‘mate’ me.”

You shook your head, choosing to ignore the comment and how it made literally every inch of your body heat up. Taking a step back you studied him, giving him a thumbs up before you walked over to the other suits you had to check up on for the shoot. Harry watched you for a few seconds before he got up from the chair, going to check himself out in the mirror again. Your phone suddenly vibrated against the desk right in front of the mirror, and Harry’s eyes instantly fell to it. A furrow appeared between his brows.

“Who’s Jack?”

You glanced over your shoulder, seeing Harry read the text you just got. “Hey!”

“Who is he?” he asked again, looking over at you as you came rushing over. You took the phone, pressing it to your chest as if it was going to make Harry forget what he’d just read. He tried to add a playful undertone to his voice, a slight smile across his lips.

“None of your business.”

Harry looked away from you, nodding as he busied himself with trying to get some kind of lint off his coat. “You’re right.”

You put the phone back in your jean pocket and walked over to the suits again, hunching down to check the seam on the hem on the trousers. You felt your phone vibrate with another notification or vibrate as a reminder that she’d gotten a text two minutes prior. Getting up and about to reach back to check what Jack had wanted, she felt a breath against her neck.

“You’re seeing him then?”

You jumped, holding your hand to your chest as you turned around to face him. “None of your business!”

“Oh, come on!”

You shoved him out of the way, way too much to do to be distracted by Harry’s nosiness. Strolling over to the desk, you started looking through your calendar when Harry showed up beside you again. Leaning on his elbow on the desk, he looked up at you, trying to sound as nonchalant as possible considering how curious he actually was.

“Is he fit at least?”

“He’s not annoying.” You said, covering his face with your hand. You felt him smile into your palm. “Ever tried that?”

“Tried being annoying?” Harry asked. “Wouldn’t know where to start.”

You shoved him away, making him lose his balance some and lean both his elbows on the desk. He watched as you walked back to the suits, looking at which ones Alessandro said were to be used by Harry and which ones were to be used by someone else at another time. Just as Harry was about to ask another question about Jack – who was just a mate from back home you hadn’t ever talked to him about because he’d never come up in conversation -, there was a knock at the wardrobe door. Alessandro stood there, a raise to his eyebrows and a small smile on his lips that was almost hidden by his dark, thick, long beard. He’d stood there watching you two for a little while, you thought to yourself.

“Is Harry ready for the shoot?”

“Yes,” you glanced at Harry and pointed at Alessandro. “Go.”

Harry sighed but got up, walking over to Alessandro who was smiling, encouraging Harry to do the same. As he passed him, a small beam was on Harry’s lips, but as he walked through the door, you couldn’t tell if he was still smiling or if he just did it to Alessandro wouldn’t make him. The creative director looked over at you, crossing his arms but not losing his smile.

“What?”

Alessandro shrugged.

“No, what?”

“You could’ve at least told him who Jack was.” Alessandro chuckled.

You rolled your eyes.

“But I get that you want to watch him suffer. It’s funny seeing someone you like be jealous.”

“Harry isn’t jealous.” You said, closing the calendar and placing it neatly back on the desk. “He’s just nosy.”

Alessandro didn’t say anything in response, instead he just walked on over to the shoot, leaving you alone with your thoughts. You weren’t really sure why you hadn’t just told Harry who Jack was. It wasn’t like anything was going on between you and Jack, you were simply mates and he wanted to check up on you and see how things were going. You had absolutely nothing to hide. Especially nothing to the point of keeping your phone close to your chest so he wouldn’t reread the message you’d just gotten, holding no significance whatsoever.

Maybe Alessandro was right. Maybe you did want to see if he was jealous or not. But he didn’t seem jealous to you, just his nosy self. Sighing, you followed Alessandro, ready to be of service if something should go wrong. They hadn’t even started shooting when you walked into the room, they were still walking around, placing the different statues and other props around the place to get it to look exactly like the producer wanted it to. You stood watching for a bit, knowing that your phone was still in your back pocket, untouched since Harry had seen the innocent text from Jack.

Suddenly, you felt a presence behind you, saw a shadow mingle with yours, and you recognised the messy hair and the bandana you’d wrapped around his head earlier. Smiling, you continued to stare ahead, waiting a minute before Harry felt brave enough to answer.

“Did you answer Jack then?” You felt the breath of his words against your hair.

“He just wanted to know how I was, Harry.”

“I know.”

You bit your lip, not looking back at him.

“Guess he just wanted to talk. To feel close to you in a way.”

You huffed, standing your ground and not looking back at him like you knew he wanted you to. “And the point of this is…?”

“Being close to someone you love can calm you down.” Harry said, voice low so only the two of you could hear him. You felt a shiver run up your spine. “Like shelter in a storm; entering a small house and staying for tea before braving the terrible weather again, a little stronger this time with some motivation from those you… hold closest to your heart.”

Your breath hitched somewhere in your throat, feeling both Harry’s breath and eyes on you. It took everything in you not to look at him, to see his soft expression after uttering those equally soft words. “I’m not in love with Jack, Harry.”

Harry was quiet for a second before he said, with the hint of a smile in his voice, “Okay.”

You smiled yourself, wanting to say something in response but not knowing what would be appropriate. You weren’t even sure why you were feeling this much or why Harry being elated you weren’t seeing someone made you this happy. He stood right behind you, just as close, not wavering, till he had to go do the shoot. Walking backwards, he made sure to catch your eye, give you a small smile, before going to do his job. You hated how your cheeks felt hot, that every single time Harry’s dimples appeared you heard something inside your head scream and the every single one of your cells react to him. Glancing over at Alessandro, you caught the creative director watching you with a grin on his face. As soon as your eyes met, though, he turned away, forcing his smile away and pretending like he hadn’t seen a thing. You rolled your eyes, focusing all your attention on Harry, who didn’t let his anxiety get the better of him this time around.

“He’s doing very well.” Alessandro commented, his left hand resting on his chin in a pondering manner.

“He is.”

“Because you replaced his nerves before the show.” From under his hand, you could see a small smirk playing on his lips, his eyes never leaving the monitor.

“I - what?” Lifting away from his side, you stared at Alessandro’s face. And your wide eyes must have made you look like a deer in the headlights because he started chuckling.

You were positive that no one had seen your moment with Harry, considering how dark the little corner you were stood in was. Backstage at a fashion show was crazy enough, there’s no way anyone had been paying attention to the tailor in the back of the room. But the knowing look in your boss’s eyes told you otherwise.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” you muttered, folding your arms across your chest.

“Eyes all over my head, il mio amore. I see everything.”

Alessandro had been like this from the moment he introduced you and Harry, almost two years ago at this point. Always motioning from across the room for you to stand just a bit closer to Harry, informing you whenever Harry was remotely near the office, and always leaving the two of you alone each time he was scheduled for a fitting. It was like he was making it his life’s mission to get his two prodigies together.

“Don’t laugh at me. This is your fault, you know?”

Feigning offence and his hand moved from his chin to his chest, Alessandro turned away from the monitor to finally look directly at you, “Mine? Why do you say that?”

“‘You have a lot in common.’ or how about, ‘look at my two loves together!’ or my personal favorite, ‘The two of you together, assolutamente da togliere il fiato!’”your impersonation of him had gotten extremely good over the last few years, bringing a soft smile to his lips. “Any of those ringing any bells?”

“Only encouraging what you both know to be true, cara.”

“You’re absurd.”

At this point, the first model had made his way back to the dressing room, immediately going to line up for the final walk through. It was scheduled to be a quick show, only about thirteen minutes from first walk to last, but you never imagined it would go by this fast. As the models began to line back up, both you and Alessandro separated, going to either side of the line to join the other tailor in making sure each outfit was still in its pristine condition. You you had a few loose threats to snip here, and a broken necklace to dispose of there, but overall, everyone was still looking perfect.

Especially Harry.

His head was craned, watching you as you made your way down the line behind him, and as soon as you stepped in front of him to quickly examine his apparel, he whispered your name.

“Haven’t tripped yet.” he smirked, adjusting the red glasses on his nose.

“I know, I was watching.”

“Yeah?”

“Mhm. We were talking about you. Turn around.” grabbing hold of his shoulder, you pulled forward, “Making him proud, you know.”

His shoulders relaxed under your palms, like hearing the news of making one of his idols happy set him free and he could now have the utmost fun with the final walk through.

“Alright. Good luck.”

But before you could get to the next model, his hand caught your arm. In any other situation, you’d be annoyed that you were being stopped from completing your job, but the look on Harry’s face made all worries about any other model fade from your mind.

“What about you?”

“What about me?”

“Are you proud?”

The question took you off guard. Was really that concerned with what you thought of his performance? He was one of the most renowned superstars in the world, who danced his heart out on stage and did what made him happy no matter what others thought. But your opinion was the one who made his hands clam up? And had you ever made him feel like you weren’t proud? You always thought your quick jabs to one another were all in good fun, but maybe you had gone too far and made him doubt himself.

“Always proud of everything you do.”

It was the honest answer. Getting to watch him excel in every aspect of life he threw himself into, make decisions that helped so many people, putting his friends and family first, and making sure he was happy above all else, was inspiring to say the least. There was never a day that went by where you didn’t feel immense pride for even just getting the chance to know Harry. And in that moment, you promised yourself that you would make it more apparent to him from then on.

A large smile spread across his face, and even in the poor lighting, you could see the apples of his cheeks turn a rosey pink. He looked undeniably cute and following your heart as well as Alessandro’s previous encouragements, you decided to take a leap of faith.

“Come find me after the show. Gotta talk.”

The happiness faded from both his face and his eyes, and you instantly regretted the way you phrased your sentence. “Nothing bad, I promise! Just come find me, yeah?”

You had moved on to the next model, giving her a smile and a quick “Hello Mae” and began checking her dress as Harry was still processing your request. His hands were fidgeting with the fingerless gloves and he was undoubtedly about to break skin with how hard he was biting his lip. You felt like a proper idiot for making him nervous again after he was so happy.

“Calm down, would you? You’re starting to stress me out.” you laughed, giving Mae the okay and moving onto the next model. Sending him a wink, you nodded your head, making him well aware of how unserious this conversation was going to be.

A faster paced rendition of The Shadows Die Twice started playing, just as you finished checking over your designated models, indicating that it was time for the final walk through to begin. After these final few minutes, all the garments you had worked tirelessly on for months, would be totally completed. And usually, you would be filled with ease and comfort knowing you would have some time off before your next project. But this time was different.

This time, Alessandro had consulted you on many of the pieces making their way down the runway, showing just how much he valued and trusted your opinion. Never in your wildest dreams did you think you would be where you are today, but because of the man standing next to you, believing in your talent and putting your passion to use, you were living out a dream that you never knew you had.

“Thank you.” You whispered

“For what?”

“For believing in me enough to hire me four years ago. For not letting me give up when I was confused. For always encouraging me. Just - thank you.”

“Never have to thank me for those things, tesoro. The potential and passion inside you needs to be explored! I’m honored I get to be the one to help you embrace them!” Alessandro pulled you into a tight hug, the two of you swaying as you watched the models capture the attention of each guest one last time.

Lifting to stand on your tiptoes you whispered in Alessandro’s ear, but even though your statement was barely loud enough to be heard over the booming music, apparently it was just loud enough for your boss to hear, because his head snapped back and he grabbed you by the shoulders, holding you at arms length.

“What?!”

“Mhm.”

“Together?”

“Mhm.” It was hard not to continue your giggles at his bewildered expression.

“How come?”

You shrugged, “I guess I just have a bloody persuasive boss.”

Once again, models began entering the dressing room, but this time, instead of staying in strict model mode, they were letting loose. Smiles were spread all over their faces, rushing to give each other hugs and words of encouragement. It was a beautiful sight to watch, the release of pressure the show brought to the models and the absolute joy they were now basking in.

“Il tuo tempo per brillare, rockstar.” your time to shine, rockstar. giving his shoulder a pat, you watched as he sucked in a deep breath, preparing himself to walk the runway and accept the congratulatory applause about to be thrown his way once the last model had arrived backstage.

It was during this part, for some reason, that you always saw a bit of his nerves pop out. Maybe it was because of all the wandering eyes and unknown opinions, but walking out to thank the guests for attending seemed to be the only thing that ever made Alessandro nervous. And you would never admit it to him, but you enjoyed seeing him a bit on edge, reminded you that he wasn’t just some fashion robot, but a man who just wanted to be accepted for his unique and creative mind.

Your position in the back room made it easy to be a part of both atmosphere’s; the juxtaposition between the loud, bustling back room and angelic, calming sound of Bach - St. John Passion BWV 245: Herr echoing off of the marble walls was like a metaphor for your life these last few months. How at times, everything around you was so busy and fast paced that it was sometimes hard to get a handle on what was happening. But then moments like this happened and none of failures or pricked fingers mattered. Because watching your boss, the man you admired with all your heart and were lucky to call a friend, walk down his own runway, accepting love he deserved, on pieces you had helped create, was the most heavenly feeling you could imagine.

You watched as he made his way through the museum quickly, stopping every so often to bow his head in gratitude and send kisses to everyone in the audience.

“I see why you like this so much.”

Harry stood next to you, hands buried deep in his pants pockets, the long overcoat pushed back behind his arms, just enough that you got a good view of the sparrow tattoos and the very tip of the bird cage on his rib peaking out from under the white tank top. He didn’t look at you, instead, his eyes were trained on the monitor, watching the man who gave you each the chance to flourish in a world you never expected.

“Hmm? Why’s that?”

“Fucking exihlerating walking down that runway.” he admitted, the sentance coming out in a breathy laugh like he couldn’t believe how much fun he had. “Can’t imagine what it’s like for the people that created it all.”

“Yeah, quite hard coming down from a high like this, so he usually takes a week or so off before jumping back into things.” you chuckled, thinking back to when you’d received an influx of text messages the last time Alessandro had gone off the grid, depicting how much he loved bees and would be incorporating them into the new collection after staying on a bee farm for a few days.

“Alessandro did a phenomenal job.” he paused, finally taking his eyes away from the screen and turning his entire body so that he was now facing you. “But so did you.”

If he hadn’t been staring directly at you, he would have missed the roll of your eyes. Of course, you were thankful to be a part of something so extraordinary, but this was all Alessandro. It was all his vision and even though you were asked to help finalize a few looks, this masterpiece was all thanks to him, and you wouldn’t take credit for any of it.

But before you could explain all of that to Harry, he said your name softly, moving a tad closer so your elbow was just barely touching his stomach. “‘M serious. These may have been his finalized pieces, but you quite literally put it all together. There would be no final product without your work.”

“Harry -”

“Don’t ‘Harry’ me, wanker, you’re bloody amazing at what you do. But you don’t need me to tell you that. Everyone walking around this room is example enough.”

Receiving compliments from Harry wasn’t anything new to you. For as long as you’d known him, he was always looking for the good in people and making sure they knew about it. If you had to guess, that was probably one of the his main qualities that initially drew fans in, because all anyone wanted in life was to feel good; appreciated. And that’s exactly what he had been doing for you since the day he walked through your office doors. It was the little things that made your stomach turn to mush; holding your pin cushion when he knew it would make a session easier for you, bringing you a smoothie when you’d told him you didn’t have time to eat before a shoot, sending you funny memes in the middle of the night, or even just seeing his dimpled smile appear when he finally got to see his immaculately executed wardrobe. No matter what the circumstance was, simply being around Harry made you feel happy, calm, and you didn’t want that feeling to ever go away.

“Just look around an-”

“Do you want to go on a date?” when you’d asked him earlier to find you after the show so you could chat, you didn’t exactly expect the conversation to start out so blunt, but he just looked so cute and sincere telling you in his own way how proud of you he was.

“Wh-“

“There’s, um, there’s this really great restaurant not too far from here. Most delicious pasta you’ll ever eat, not to mention the cutest old couple on the planet runs it and they’ll def-“

“I haven’t eaten since this morning, so if you’re going to keep talking, I’ll just go eat this amazing pasta by myself.”

“Yeah, no, you’re right, that was a dumb que-“ it wasn’t his words that made you stop mid sentence, but more the soft smile that spread across his face, his dimple popping out slightly beneath his growing facial hair. There was no hesitation in his acceptance to your dinner date, contrary to what you were expecting, and it made the tips of your ears warm up. “Oh! Um, perfect. Yeah, great. Okay.”

Never had you been so flustered by the man standing before you. This wouldn’t be the first time you grab a bite to eat with him, and definitely wouldn’t be the first time the two of you spent time alone, but the way he was looking at you, like none of what he just did mattered, was definitely a first.

“Okay, um, just get dressed and I’ll meet you outside?”

“‘M serious, hurry up. Might starve to death while you’re busy chatting.” Harry joked, slowly walking away while still facing you, his finger coming out to point right at you, “Then you’ll have to explain to everyone how your desperate need to talk to everyone you come in contact with, was the reason behind the death of the Harry Styles.”

“Oi, fuck off. Says the man who made sure to learn something about every single person setting up the show today. Go get dressed before I slap the Harry Styles.”

The slight shake of his head kept your attention as he weaved his way through the bustling room, back towards the vanity he had claimed as his own. You’d watched the scene in front of you play out many times before; models spread out throughout the room, some having changed immediately into their own comfortable clothes, some tossing their heads back in eased laughter, and some every sitting back with their feet up, enjoying a basket of chips. No matter how each of them decided to unwind after such a monumental show, it never got old. Because just as they did, you had your own post show ritual.

You didn’t divulge in unhealthy foods or put on your most comfortable pair of socks; you organized your kit one last time. From the moment Alessandro sits you down with his new vision until the last model walks off the runway, you know to keep millions of pins, thread of all colors, buttons of every shape and size, and even some super glue on you at all times. They would undoubtedly get used throughout the months of alterations and mishaps, if not by you, then by a member of your team. So, taking a moment to sit and go through everything once the night was officially over was a sort of release for you. A way for you to touch and feel just how much hard work had gone into your work. How the container holding your pins was considerably lighter, the spool of black thread had nearly vanished, and the pile of band aids in the lower pocket was down to three. All signs that you put your heart and soul into this collection.

There was never any guarantee when Alessandro would find inspiration next and when his next project would begin, meaning you never knew when the next time you’d be opening your kit was. But this time, that wasn’t the case. He had planned at least three more shoots before the years end, so you were only allotted a few weeks of laid back free time this time around.

“Packing up so soon?”

“You know how I like to close out a show.” You chuckled, not turning to look at your boss, but seeing his hand reach out and fingertips graze over the very top of your bag.

“How many this time?”

“28 buttons, nearly the entire tin of pins, 64 band aids, and two mini bottles of wine.”

“You should be proud, il mio amore, that’s two less bottles than last time! It’s about progress!”

“Two less because someone yelled at me less this time around.” Finally getting back to your feet, you turned to face him and noticed that he had thrown his hair up to get it away from his sweaty forehead. “No need to drink if you aren’t crying in the fabric closet.”

“Lo faccio solo con amore, Tesoro, lo sai.” I only do it with love honey, you know. His smile was contagious as he took your hands in his own, giving them a gentle squeeze. “Look at how far you’ve come. Such beautiful art comes from these hands.”

“Do you know what you’ll do until the fragrance shoot?”

“I will be taking Vanni to see my brother. A nice peaceful place to become one again. Where will you go?”

“My flat in Florence has been calling my name for weeks, Lallo.” He smiled fondly at the nickname. “Will probably do some redecorating while I’m there.”

“And some dates, no?”

“I really don’t know why I bother telling you anything. Like my father, you are.”

“Well I am the reason for this, am I not? Seems only right that I know all the details.”

“Details of what?”

“How I’m redecorating my flat in Florence.” Your response was quick, and you sent Alessandro a stern side glare so that he knew not to bring up anything of what you were just speaking of.

“Yes, I told her that I expect pictures.”

“Oh, add me to that list as well then! I’d love to see how you decorate. ‘M always looking for new inspiration.”

“Um, yeah sure. You ready?” if Harry could sense how awkward you felt when he joined you and Alessandro, he made no move to indicate it. Especially now, smiling at your agreement.

“Yup. Ready to enjoy some of Earth’s finest pasta.”

“Oh!” Alessandro brightened at Harry’s words, his back straightened, and eyes widened. “Are you taking him to Chiaro Di Luna?” you nodded, slinging your bag over your shoulder. “Magnifico! A wonderful place you will love!”

“Well he won’t love it if we keep standing here so…”

“Have fun my prodigies!”

Both you and Harry laughed quietly as you finally walked away from the man of the hour. You may have known him in different ways, but each of you got the chance to see a side of Alessandro most people didn’t – parental type figure who wanted nothing but love and prosperity for you both.

“He’s like that with you all the time as well?”

“Hmm?”

You took a glance at him when pressing the button for the lift, just to be met with his warm eyes already looking at you. He looked handsome after the show – not that he wasn’t always handsome, but something about seeing him work so hard and then look so comfortable made your chest tingle. He was wearing a pair of dark yellow corduroy pants – the flare at the ankles not nearly as large as some of the flares he owns, but wide nonetheless – paired with a red and blue striped shirt, a tiny Mickey Mouse head embroidered into the upper left breast and a black bomber jacket.  He looked relaxed and everything that spending time in Italy embodied.

“Does he turn into dad mode on you as well?”

Harry laughed, “He means well.”

It was no surprise that Harry had brought along a plethora of fans, all eagerly awaiting his presence back outside after the show, so there was no way the two of you could casually stroll out of the front doors to get to your late dinner date. Instead, you were walking through the basement hallway so that you could make your speedy escape through the lower side exit, directly across from Cafe Capitolino.

“You think you’d do another?”

“You think I’d be asked to do another?”

Your hand found it’s way up to his forehead as the two of you strolled through Piazelle Caffarelli - the quaintest little park directly across from the museum. In the bright moonlight, the beds of flowers and statues almost appeared to glow, directing your path through the garden.

“What are you doing?”

“Just checking to see if you have a fever.”

“Huh?”

“You must be sick because I’m not seeing your ego anywhere.”

“Oh piss off.” he laughed, lifting his own arm so that he could slap yours - playfully - away from his face. “‘M serious.”

“So am I. You’re one of the most confident people I’ve ever met. I’ve seen you doing your music thing Harry. You’re good and you know it. Where’s that attitude here?”

He was quiet as the two of you finally made it out of the garden and crossed the main street, focusing on stuffing his hands in his jacket pockets and tugging it closer to his torso. His hair had grown quite a lot since the first time you’d met him years ago, and the curls, wild from being kept under a cap for hours, were blowing in the small breeze.

“‘Dunno. I was nervous when I did the film as well. Guess doing something new like this makes me question if I’m given the chance to do it because I’m genuinely good at it, or just because they want my name on it.”

That was a surprise to you. From the moment you met him, you could feel the confidence he emitted. In fact, it rubbed off on most who were working with him. He made the people around him feel confident in themselves and what they were doing, and always encouraged when someone was feeling down.

“You’re very much wanted on this team for what you bring to it, not your name. I’m sorry if you were made to feel anything less.”

“No!” he quickly rebutted, gaining the attention of the few people wandering the street late at night. But he paid no mind to them, only focused on looking at you to make sure you heard what he was saying cearly. “You haven’t, at all. None of you have. Just don’t want to be known as the guy who gets jobs because he was in a band.”

“Can promise you that Lallo wouldn’t have asked you to be a part of so many shoots and such an important show if he didn’t completely and wholeheartedly believe you were perfect for it.”

You watched him nod and mutter a quiet I guess, the moon peeking over the Gran Caffe Roma and highlighting his eyelashes and very tip of his nose so perfectly that he began to look like a statue.

“Lallo?”

“Yeah.” a quick chuckle left your mouth, a hand coming up to rub your cheek while you thought of your response. “After I finished my first collection for him, it was a small one so he could see if I was right for the position, he took me out for drinks to celebrate me getting the job. Long story short, we both had a few too many and I started calling him Lallo and it just stuck.”

“That’s cute.” his hand was wiggling about, trying to escape the confines of the jacket pocket, and when it finally did, it brushed against your own. You both looked down at the close proximity of your hands and you felt the air immediately get thicker. He must have felt the same because when you briefly look up at him over your lashes, he was staring straight ahead; very apparently trying not to make any sudden moves.

But the millisecond the warmth of skin left yours, you wanted it back. Maybe it was the tiny kiss you shared backstage just hours ago, or the built up tension between the two of you that had started during his second campaign shoot, whatever it was, you were done dancing around the obvious. Without giving it a second thought or looking anywhere but straight ahead, you lifted your pointer finger ever so slightly. Just enough so that it gently rubbed against his. You wanted to give him the option of pursuing anything further, so just as quickly as the contact began, it ended; your fingers settling by your side yet again.

However, the breeze working it’s way between your hands didn’t last long, because almost immediately after your little move, you felt his fingers slowly creep around your hand. He didn’t move fast, almost as if he was letting the calm Italian breeze join your hands together. And slower than you would have liked, your entire hand was enclosed by his, feather touches to make sure the other was comfortable with where things had gone.

You wanted to make sure Harry knew just how okay you were with his hand keeping yours warm, so you continued talking as if nothing had happened. “‘M the only one who gets to call him that though, so don’t go parading around saying it.”

“Loud and clear. Your secret's safe with me.” he laughed, his grip on your hand tightening when a strong gust of wind blew through the small alleyway you were walking down and you shivered, “Cold?”

“No, I’m alright.” you lied, the air outside always making you significantly colder after leaving the sauna that was a fashion show back room.

Instead of letting go of the idea of you being cold, Harry lightly tugged on your joined hands, stuffing them into his jacket pocket, which then forced you to move closer to his side. Italy in May wasn’t a time you would consider cold; the sun shone nearly every day, warming your cheeks, and there was no need for anything more than a light jumper, but the warmth radiating from Harry’s side made it feel as if you were strolling around on an August day. But you welcomed it, despite the race of your heart.

“Looking forward to having some time off?”

“Absolutely. I really do need to redecorate my place. ‘M sure Lilliana hasn’t been taking care of the plants as often as I’d like so I’ll have to make a stop and pick up some new ones.”  you were mostly speaking to yourself, so you elaborated when he didn’t respond. “Lilliana is a girl who lives across the street. She’s sixteen, and has been watching my place ever since I started with Gucci. Doesn’t want to get paid or anything, only wants me to get her a meeting with Alessandro when she turns eighteen. Told her I’d see what I can do, but he’s already seen some of her designs. She’s very talented.”

“You’re really wonderful, you know.”

The compliment made the tips of your ears warm, and you were worried that the palms of your hands would start to clam up if you thought about the way you could feel him looking at you, so you quickly changed the subject, your hand clumsily sliding out of his pocket to point at the tiny restaurant in front of you.

“Here we are!”

Nestled at the very end of the alley, was your destination. Only two tables were set up outside, the tiny patio was past picturesque; it was straight out of a movie. A metal fence was surrounding the seating area on two sides - the third wall was created by the muted terracotta building and the fourth was left open for easy access. Wrapped around the very tops of the fence were some fairy lights, not enough to cover the entire thing, but enough to give a bit of lighting on the otherwise dark road, and creating a pathway to the front door, sat a nice variety of potted plants. And with the green doors to the shop left open, the smell of freshly baked bread immediately hit you and Harry in the face.

“This is amazing.” his voice was full of wonder and you appreciated the fact that even he, someone who had been around the world and back many times, never took for granted the small beauties of the world.

“Just wait until you try the food.” you smiled, bringing your hand up to your mouth in a mock chef’s kiss. “Deliziosa!”

The boisterous laugh that fell from between his lips was enough to catch the attention of whoever was working inside. It didn’t take long for them to walk down the front steps, seeing as the inside of the establishment was also small. But the second his face lit up from the wall mounted lights, you smiled.

“Lorenzo! Così bello vederti di nuovo!” Lorenzo! It’s so good to see you again!

“Mio dolce! Mi sei mancato!” My sweet! I’ve missed you! His arms opened wide as he walked down the single step, instantaneously enveloping you in a hug. He smelled of pasta sauce and pizza dough, the evidence of his hard work sprinkled across his withered cheek.

“Mi dispiace! Sai quanto può essere intenso il lavoro! Soprattutto con un capo come il mio!” I’m sorry! You know how intense work can be! Especially with a boss like mine!

You watched Lorenzo’s face light up when he pulled away from you and heard your boss’ name. The two had met ages ago and he was the one who had introduced the two of you. “Ah! Alessandro! Confido che stia bene! E chi hai portato con te questa volta, cara?” Ah! Alessandro! I trust he is doing well! And who have you brought with you this time, dear?

Feeling bad for leaving Harry out of the brief conversation, you angled your body so that you were now facing him, moving your hand between the two men in front of you. “Lorenzo, this is Harry. Harry, Lorenzo.”

True to his nature, Harry immediately stuck his hand out and offered a ‘you alright?’ to the older gentleman, but Lorenzo was having none of that. Completely ignoring the waiting hand, and having to stand a bit on his toes in order to wrap his arms around the younger man’s upper back, he pulled Harry in for a tight hug.

“Any friend of hers is a friend of mine! Benvenuto!”

“Hai un… posto bellissimo qui!” Lorenzo’s smile grew as the two separated and Harry slowly racked his mind for the right words. “Was that right?”

“It was! Thank you, we do love it here!”

“Speaking of..” you cut in, “I know it’s late but do you think we could steal a plate or two?”

“For you, mio caro, anything.” he lifted his calloused hand to gently pat your cheek. “Why don’t the two of you sit down and I will bring you a few dishes. I’ve got some fettuccine alla carbonara if you’d like. I’m sure I can find something else if-”

“That sounds wonderful, Lorenzo, thank you.”

You watched as his frail figure made its way back into the shop, taking an extra second to carefully climb the single step. It was the perfect night to sit outside and enjoy one of your favorite meals, but even more perfect to turn around and see Harry holding a chair out, waiting for you to join him at the table.

“Thank you.” you hoped the smirk you were trying to hide wasn’t visible in the dimly lit back alley and he couldn’t tell how much the small gesture made your heart race.

“So tell me,” he sighed once he finally sat down next to you, his forearms leaning against the small wooden table so that he could look directly at you. “You really like the food here or do you just keep coming back because he adores you?”

“I take offense that you think I’d use my charming personality just to get a free plate of pasta.” the stare shared between you both was one of comedy - his eyebrow raised in question and you couldn’t help but let out a small laugh, “I use it for two.”

“I knew it.”

“It really is the best, swear it! Tried to get him to teach me the recipe once but he won’t budge. Says he won’t allow it to leave the family.”

“He always here this late? Seems to be a bit… old… to be here at quarter eleven.” he never broke eye contact while speaking to you, but his fingers began to roam around, slowly inching towards your own empty hands. There was no move to do anything more than brush his fingers against yours, but you longed for him to envelop your smaller ones in his.

“For as long as I’ve known him. Always comes in to prep for the people who come in at five the next morning.”

“Good bloke.” he nodded, craning his neck a bit so he could look around him, “You know, I’ve always wanted to have my own restaurant.”

A deep belly laugh spilled from your lips upon hearing his words, your body’s finally making contact when you lifted your hand and placed it on his forearm to ground yourself.

“What’s so funny about that?” his voice held a certain aura of feigned offence, but you knew not to take it too seriously by the bright smile covering his face. It was a different kind of smile than you were used to seeing him give, but you welcomed it and never wanted to see it end. It made the corners of his eyes crinkle a tad more than normal, mouth open a bit wider, and entire body lean forward.

“Harry, I’ve known you nearly three years. Never once have I heard you mention wanting to have your own restaurant. I’ve been told a lawyer, a florist, even a physiotherapist, but a chef? Can you even cook?”

“Now I'm offended! I’ll have you know that I used to cook for the band all the time!”

“Beans on toast doesn't count as cooking, Harry.”

“Leave off.” somewhere during your mock argument and Harry laughing at you, his hand had fully found its way to yours, wrapping around it carefully as not to disturb the perfect peace the two of you had going. “You’ll just have to come over so I can prove to you just how good I am.”

Obviously he didn’t mean it in any other way than a friend inviting another friend over for a nice meal, but the way his tongue jut out before speaking, leaving his lips shining and nearly begging for attention, made the sentence mean a lot more to you than he led on.

“Well, I’ll hold you to that, mate.”

“Don’t mate me while I’m holding your hand, mate.” you swear it was like Harry was trying to push every single last button you had. Not only was he smirking while giving your hand a squeeze, but with each word, he seemed to be gradually leaning closer to you.

Almost as if he was waiting for the most perfectly inopportune moment, Lorenzo made his presence known with the clink of two wine glasses that echoed through the small alley. The sound made you and Harry separate as quickly as possible and look towards the older man.

“Two dishes of my world famous fettuccine paired with the best bottle of wine you could ask for!”

“But we didn’t ask for wine, Lorenzo.”

“It’s alright because you are new here, but when I give you a bottle of wine, you take it.”

“He says it makes for a better experience.” you shrug, taking the glasses and bottle from the tray so that he would have an easier time setting down your plates.

“Non puoi goderti i frutti del tuo lavoro senza un po ‘di divertimento!”

“Yeah yeah, as you say. Now take this before I stay here all night and give it to Mateo, because you know he’ll take it.” you tried handing him a few folded up fifties, but you weren’t surprised when he didn’t accept, but insead, backed away from your outstretched hand.

“Mio caro, no. I do not want that from you. I just enjoy seeing your beautiful face every now and again.”

“Lorenzo, you know I won’t stop. Please”

“You are too much, ragazza dolce. Please come tell me if you need anything more.”

“What did he say to you just then? I caught fruit and fun but that’s where it stops.” Harry asked as soon as the older man was out of ear shot. He was trying hard to look at you, but the steaming plate of food before you both was enough to pull anyone’s attention away, so you didn’t fault him for being mesmerized.

“Come on, hot shot, have your Italian lessons taught you nothing?”

“Wow you’re really riding me tonight, huh?” if only. “I’m busy alright. Got a lot going on up here.” he used his pointer and middle finger to tap against his temple, “Gets hard to remember things sometimes.”

���You know I’m just taking the piss.” unable to wait any longer, you began to twist your fork in the pasta while giving him an explanation. “Said you can’t enjoy the fruits of your labor without having a little fun.”

“He’s got a point you know.”

“If you try and tell me that I need to be prouder of my work, I will dump all of that food on the ground before you even have the chance to try it.”

“You wouldn’t dare. Not if it’s as good as you say it is.”

“Don’t tempt me.”

“I’m serious, love.” Harry had called you many pet names since your first meeting, but love had never been one of them. It sounded so comforting falling his lips, like it was the only word you wanted to hear for the rest of time, and it made your insides instantly warm - and it wasn’t from the wine. “You’re outrageously talented. Everyone on the planet can see it except for you.”

“I’m proud of what I do, Harry. Just don’t feel like it’s right to take any bit of credit for something I only helped put together.” sure, you helped transform the clothing from pieces of mixed matched fabrics into the collections that hit the runways, but they weren’t your ideas or designs, so you felt only fair to give credit where it was rightfully due.

“Alright. Fine then. If you won’t take credit for your work, I’ll do it for you.” he cleared his throat after finishing off his glass of wine, back straightening and his chest puffing out after filling with air. “Hello!” he shouted, followed by introducing your name, “I am the lead tailor for Gucci and I just completed my fourth Cruise Collection!”

“Shh!! Harry!” you really did try to keep it together while tugging on his arm, but you couldn’t help the giggles that escaped as he kept shouting praising about you to the empty Roman streets.

“I’m one of the best in the world and everyone is absolutely dying to work with me!”

“Harry!” you laughed again, this time, cupping your hand over his lips that he couldn’t say anymore. “I get it, my god.”

“Do you? Because I can do it again. Hello -”

“I do, thank you.” your smile was genuine, truly appreciating the fact that he always had such nice things to say about you and your work. “But please just shut up and eat, yeah?”

Finally the two of you were silent, smiling to yourselves so that you could enjoy your awaiting food. Until you weren’t.

A loud moan from next to you quickly made your head snap up in desperate need to see where it had come from. There was no one else it could have come from, but to hear the sound fall from Harry’s mouth wasn’t something you were prepared for. Nor was the sight of carbonara sauce dripping from the corner of his mouth.

“Fuck you were right.” he moaned again, this time much smaller, “This is the greatest pasta on the planet.”

“Thought you would’ve learned by now that there are very few times that’d I’m not right.”

You shouldn’t have expected anything less from the man indoors, who when you looked up over Harry’s shoulder, you saw standing in the window smiling and giving you a thumbs up. Of course he was on the same page as Alessandro and would be trying to put both you and Harry in the mood for a romantic night. But to hear the chords of ‘So This Is Love’ play through whatever speaker he had in his kitchen, really did surprise you.

“Lorenzo!” you yelled, not caring about waking whatever kind of neighbors he had

“What?”

“Really?”

“I just turned on my music, mio caro! Please enjoy your meal.”

Snickering from next to you made you roll your eyes,  “Don’t laugh at him, you’re only egging him on, Harry.”

“‘M not, I’m not!” you sent him a pointed look, taking the last gulp of wine from your glass and pouring yet another. “Alright, maybe just a little. But only because I think ya look cute when you’re flustered, is all.”

“You’re lucky you’re handsome, because you’re a right bellend.”

“Only to a select few!” the sound of his light laugh was drowned out by the creaking of his chair as he pushed it backwards. In a second, he was at his feet, ignoring your question of ‘what are you doing?�� to stand in front of you. “Signora.” his mouth may not have made any movements to smile, but you could see his eyes holding one back.

He mocked bowed, resting one arm behind his back as the other hand engulfed one of your sitting on top of the table. The pads of his fingers caressed the inside of your hand as he gently picked it up, slowly slotting your two hands together. It felt like an out of body experience, like you were watching the scene happen as an onlooker, instead of being a part of it. Because the second he picked his head up from the bow, his eyes met yours. Hundreds of unidentified thoughts raced through your mind and your breathing stopped when he picked up your hand completely, the distance between it and his lips growing short and shorter every second. With one quick, quiet, exhale falling from your lips, he placed a delicate kiss to your knuckles, keeping his eyes set on yours.

It could have been every innocent moment the two of you had spent together over the last two and a half years, or watching him perform his heart out just hours ago in garments that you literally built, or maybe even the way his eyes sparkled in the Italian moonlight, but staring at him as he stood back up straight, his hand still holding yours, you wanted nothing more than to jump his bones.

“Care to dance?”

It wasn’t the spark that radiated through your hands or the wind pulling at your blouse, but the look of endearment in Harry’s eyes that made you stand from your chair, accepting his offer. His free arm wound around your waist while yours rested on his shoulders, your body now flush against his. It wasn’t the perfect setting for be slow dancing; the twinkling lights were barely bright enough for you to see where you were stepping, the cobblestone beneath your trainers made the arches of your feet hurt, and the open space was very limited between the table and building, but the soft instrumental of ‘Bella notte’ playing from inside the shop and the wine flowing through your veins, made it something out of a dream.

The sun shone in through the window and straight into your eyes, making you blink awake with a small wrinkle between your brows. First thing you noticed was that you were sleeping in the cream blouse you had worn the night before, your trousers off and hopefully, you thought to yourself, so was most of your make-up as well. Second thing you noticed was the hand on your hip and the other under your head, the breathing against your skin and the forehead against your neck. Third… was something else entirely…

Memories from the night before came back in bits and pieces, bringing a small smile to your face. How you and Harry had both drunkenly stumbled down the hallway at like one, how you had struggled to get the key to your room in the lock, and how Harry had playfully pushed you out of the way to help you with it. How he helped you indoors, and how you’d asked him to stay. There hadn’t been a sexual intent behind the words, just an infatuated drunk speaking truthfully to another. You remember asking Harry to not look as you took your trousers off, and that you thought it’d be a good idea to take your bra off but sleep in your silk blouse. Harry on the other hand, kept all his clothes on, laying down beside you in bed and told you goodnight before you’d even managed to get yourself properly under the sheets. He must’ve been exhausted. It’d been a long day after all.

You woke up in the spooning position; his arm resting across your hip, breathing onto your skin, forehead against your neck, holding you close. Even before Harry woke up and noticed what was going on, you tried to understand why you felt like something wasn’t as it usually was. You felt Harry’s sharp intake of breath behind you and then him moving his head away from you, lifting the hand that had been placed on your hip, running it over his face. It wasn’t till you were about to turn around to face him that you both realised what was resting between you. You both stopped abruptly, silence filling the room around you.

“Bollocks.” Harry hissed between his teeth, glancing down at where his morning wood pressed against his yellow trousers and your ass and thigh. “So sorry.” He didn’t really know how to move as to not make it worse. Walking away from bed would mean you’d have to see the bulge in his trousers, but staying there would be absolute fucking torture.

You tried your hardest not to giggle, feeling a flush wave through your body.

“I-I… I don’t know what to do now. Sorry.” Harry said, feeling so embarrassed he was unsure what the next right thing to do would be.

Thinking back on everything that had happened, on everything that had transpired between the two of you, you suddenly felt a surge of dominance run through you. The countless times you’d waited for Harry to kiss you, the times he could’ve reached for your hand in the silence of the moment, the hundreds of hours you’d spent smiling at each other. The numerous missed opportunities. All the ‘what if’s. You hated them all, but they’d led you to this moment. It had all came down to this. Here, now. You two, in bed, Harry grunting in frustration into the pillow and you smiling to yourself, not at all sorry for him waking up hard against you. In fact, you didn’t mind it at all. After everything last night, this felt right. After absolutely everything you two had been through, it didn’t feel weird.

You glanced over your shoulder, seeing Harry there with his eyes shut tightly.

“What’re you doing?”

His cheeks were red, obviously incredibly embarrassed about all of this. “Willing my woodie away, what does it bloody look like?”

You couldn’t help your laughter, shaking into Harry who smiled at the sound of your exclamations of joy. Slowly, you moved your arse against him, feeling his erection between your bumcheeks. Harry stilled, watching you with wide eyes as you did it again. Reaching behind you, you took a grip of Harry’s hand that had been on your hip earlier, placing it back there so he could feel you swaying against him. You felt an inhale of breath against you, then Harry’s fingers instantly grip onto you. He watched you as you continued to roll your hips against him, loving the hot feeling it sent to the spot between your legs. You hummed, biting your lip as you glanced down at Harry’s hand on your bare skin, letting him see just how much you liked this.

Instantly, he moved closer to you, wrapping the arm he’d been resting under your neck around you, taking a grip of your shoulder. The other one he slowly slid further down, moving closer and closer to the space between your legs that ached for him. You closed your eyes as he hovered above you, laying his palm flat against your cunt, the breathy and barely audible moan that left your lips driving him insane. Laying some pressure on you, you inhaled sharply, both your hands gripping the arm wrapped around your neck. The heat that had started in the very bottom of your stomach intensified, and got even hotter when he ran his fingers seductively over you. Feather-like touches, soft kisses to your cheek and neck, absolutely nothing mattered but the fire that was being ignited in your core.

Harry pushed your knickers aside, running his ring and middle finger between your folds. While doing so, he pushed your hips to rock against him, causing a friction between the two of you unlike anything you’d ever experienced before. You gasped, opening your eyes and looking at Harry who was watching you more intently than you’d ever seen before. He looked so hot like that, demanding you to please him while he was pleasing you. Wanting to make you feel just as good as you’d made him feel.

You reached down, wiggling your hips as you dragged your knickers down your legs. You threw them somewhere far away before turning back to Harry. This time, you sat up and onto his lap, looking down on him while you rested your hands at the zipper of his yellow trousers. He let out a small breath, heart hammering against his chest as he watched you sit on him like that; look at him like that. He’d never thought he’d be lucky enough to find himself in this position, and yet, here he was. You reached for his zipper, undoing it as Harry did both the buttons. You sat up on your knees helping Harry as he tried to get out of his trousers, but it seemed harder than either of you thought.

“Just get them off.” You said, reaching behind you to push them further down.

“Not so easy when you’re on top of me like that.” Harry answered, sitting up to drag them off. Your faces were suddenly very close.

“Alright, I’ll get off-“

“-No,” he answered abruptly. “Please don’t.”

You stopped, letting Harry take his trousers off and throw them to the ground, not breaking eye contact with you once. You felt him against you, felt how hot he was for you like you were for him; how badly he wanted you. His eyes flickered to your mouth before he glanced back up into your eyes again, lips parting as if he wanted to say something but didn’t know the right words for it. You had taken control so far, so you watched him expectantly, waiting for him to say or do something. And it was as if he knew your thoughts exactly. He took a grip of the back of your neck, bringing you to him.

The second your lips met, you closed your eyes, melting into the kiss and melting into Harry. You hadn’t really shared a proper kiss till now, only having had that small peck and him kissing your hand. But this was a real kiss. You tasted him, felt him. Surrounding you and everything you knew in those sublime seconds your lips were pressed against one another. Heavenly, carefully, gingerly, Harry slipped his tongue into your mouth, and you welcomed him completely. You wrapped your arms around his neck, pressing your body against his. He pulled you to him, devouring one another unapologetically. Now that you were kissing, dragging out the delicious moment, you weren’t holding back anymore. The kisses were hungry, desperate, wet. Nothing had ever tasted better than Harry, nothing had ever felt better than him either. You wondered why you’d waited so long to kiss one another, what had taken so long. Because now you couldn’t think of not doing just that.

You wanted to kiss him till the end of time. Wanted to feel as his hands roamed your body, how his tongue swirled around yours, how his lips got more and more swollen as you continued on making out. Forever, and maybe even longer than that if you were allowed; you wanted to kiss Harry forever. It felt so good, so right. Like tasting every good thing that had ever happened to you all at once, combined into one thing. Harry.

Moaning your name, you felt him grip your bum, squeezing it hard as he dragged you over him. He wanted some friction as bad as you; wanted you. It felt so good knowing Harry was as desperate as you, that he felt the same way and wasn’t ashamed of admitting that he did. You had no idea where your infatuation had begun, had no idea how you had fallen in love with Harry. You just were and that was how it was supposed to be. It had always supposed to be the two of you. Whenever something feels right, you get a warm feeling in the pit of your stomach, like it’s your soul telling you that you’ve reached your final destination; you’ve gotten where you’re supposed to be. And you felt that very feeling right now, in Harry’s arms, kissing him, feeling him hard against you.

You pushed him back down on the bed, bending over him to continue kissing. He instantly gripped your arse again, begging you to rock against him so he could get some small friction. You refused however, and instead buried your hands in his hair, dragging out the tongue filled, wet, lustful kisses. It was excruciating, Harry thought to himself, but he couldn’t bring himself to force you to do anything as he didn’t want this moment to be over. If you wanted to drag this out, then he would not stop you. He was making out with you, you were almost naked on top of him, he got to touch you all over. He wasn’t going to take this for granted.

There didn’t seem to be an end to your kisses, they seemed to be going on and on and on. Not that either of you were complaining, but at one point it was hard to remember how the rest of the morning had gone before you’d started snogging. You suddenly realised just how naked you were, that only your cream blouse was covering your torso, that the rest of you were on display for Harry. But he was way too busy kissing you to pay notice to anything else.

You tugged at the end of his tee shirt and he quickly took it off, letting it fall off the side of the bed before turning his attention back on you again. You ran your hand down his front, wanting to feel his skin under yours unashamedly. Every time you’d touched him before had been under a work setting, but this one was quite different. The hands touching him now were those of a lover, not his tailor. They were the hands of a desperate woman who wanted nothing more than to be with Harry in any way one human could be with another.

Resting your hands at the top of Harry’s boxers, Harry frantically followed your lead, being there to help you get them off. He was ready to do exactly as you told him to, knowing that he was and always would be at your complete and total disposal. As his boxers came off, his cock sprang loose, and you couldn’t help but look down at it. Harry watched you as you took him in, finding you checking him out like this incredibly hot. A wave of excitement and adoration ran through him, so captivated and altogether in love with you that he was sure in that moment and every moment that followed, he would lay down the rest of his life and himself to you wholly.

You took a grip of his cock, looking into his eyes after positioning him right at your hole. He didn’t take his eyes off you, knowing that what was just about to happen would change everything for you and your friendship. Not that all of last night and the rest of this morning hadn’t done that already, but sex complicates things. It’s hard not to form an emotional attachment to those you choose to have sex with, and it’s even harder to forget said person you have sex with if you’re in love with them. But regardless of that, both of you wanted to do this. You wanted to shag; wanted one another.

You guided him into you, holding onto him till he was all the way in. Your lips parted and Harry let out a low moan, your warm walls around him almost being too much to take. Positioning your knees well on either side of his waist, you sat up on his lap again, and started moving your hips over him. Harry gripped your thighs, squeezing them tight and looking up at you with his mouth agape. Your blouse hung loosely off you, unbuttoned to the point of one of your tits showing. It fell off one of your shoulders as you rocked over Harry, revealing even more of you to Harry in the bright morning light.

He moved one of his hands upward, running it up your arm, over your collarbone, to your neck. His thumb ran over your jawline, wanting to feel all of your soft skin under his fingertips. You looked down at him, a moan leaving your lips as your eyes met his. Already the familiar burn of a climax started building up in your core, reminding you of how long it had truly been since you’d found yourself in this position prior to this. Not that it even mattered, because right now you were having sex with Harry and he felt so fucking good inside you and underneath you, you would never get tired of this feeling.

You slid your hands down his front, dragging your nails along this skin till you reached his abdomen, where you let them rest. Harry’s eyes fell to your hands, relishing in the feeling of you touching him everywhere, of you being everywhere. Nothing mattered but you and the magic you were creating between the two of you. The soft skin of the inside of your thighs resting against his hips and ribs, his tattooed arms caressing your entire body. Heavy breathing, the occasional moan.

He moaned your name, hand sliding down your chest, rubbing his thumb over your exposed nipple. The burn in your core was really starting to build up now, and you knew it would burst any second. Harry sat up, wrapping an arm around your middle. You gasped a little in surprise, but your heart instantly started beating faster at him being so close to you. His grip was tight, as if he still couldn’t believe this was happening, it sent a wave of butterflies straight to your tummy. All of them flew directly to your core as Harry started moving his hips more with yours.

“Look so good on me like that, you do.” He whispered against your lips, his voice still having that morning rasp to it that sent a shiver up your spine.

You wrapped an arm around his neck, resting the other one on his shoulder as you continued to rock your hips against him. His eyes were hooded, but there was something in them that was so soft it took your breath away. When you know someone inside and out, you notice every single little change in their behaviour. This wasn’t tiny, though, because there was a type of vulnerability in Harry’s eyes that you hadn’t seen there before. He was laying himself completely bare, both physically and emotionally, wanting to connect and attach himself to you on every level a human possibly could.

Being this close, your movements got shorter and quicker. Bending his knees, Harry brought you flush to his torso, your hips and his moving rhythmically, hard against one another. Everything felt electric, everything felt hot. You wanted to melt into him and have you two sitting like this for eternity. Wanted to stare into his eyes, feel his warm breath on your skin, have his arm around your waist and the other hand on her cheek. Having him inside you like this, feeling him grip you hard, whimper against your lips, moan your name, you felt incredibly powerful and so, so good. There was something so magical about this moment, about you two joined like this. Something words lacked the ability to articulate and something your hearts didn’t quite understand yet but wanted to. He reached his hand down to your bum, squeezing you hard.

“Harry.” You moaned, feeling your hips and knees begin to ache from sitting like this. Not that you cared much, because the wild look in Harry’s eyes was enough of a reason for her to endure it a hundred times more.

“Yeah?” he mumbled against you. “You like that?”

Biting your lip, you glanced into his eyes, letting your look speak for itself. Harry moaned, letting his hand fall to the bed and the other to your thigh, pressing you harder around him. You were both close, clinging harder onto one another. The heat in the pit of your stomach grew bigger and bigger, threatening to burst with every grind, every moan, every touch. He thrusts harder into you, entranced as he watched you gasp and moan loudly.

“Fuck me.” You said, gripping the hair at the nape of his neck.

“As much as you want me to, baby.” He kissed your jawline, nails digging into your thigh. “I’ll make you feel so good.”

You gasped, feeling the heat get more intense. Harry felt your movements get more frantic and he moved his hips quicker, meeting yours and creating a friction so heavenly it caused you to lose all control.

“Don’t stop.” You gasped, looking into Harry’s eyes as everything started to blur.

“Fuck.” He hissed, feeling your legs start to shake around him. You came hard. Harry watching you intently, holding back his own release to watch every last second of yours; to make sure you were done before he allowed his own climax. You gasped for breath and moaned ad repeated Harry’s name over and over and over again until it felt like it was the only word you were able to pronounce.

Harry came right after her, a furrow appearing between his brows and lips parted. His hands tightened around her, holding onto her for dear life as he came in her. He stilled, neck vein showing, and he moaned and moaned and moaned. It was so hot, he sounded so sexy. You watched him till he came down, feeling his cum sliding down the inside of your thigh as he slipped out of you. You breathed together for a few moments before looking at one another, suddenly laughing a little at what you’d just done. He rested his forehead against your chest, feeling you breathe with him.

“That was a thing that just happened.” You said, making Harry laugh.

“That just happened.”

“We just did that.”

You both laughed, holding onto one another still, not willing to let go. For the time being, you two were the only thing that mattered, nothing outside your room existed. But then you laid your eyes on the clock by the nightstand and jumped off Harry. He watched you, wide eyed and confused.

“What?” he asked.

“I’m supposed to be at Alessandro’s hotel room in five minutes to go over yesterday, and some other stuff.” You said while you ran to the bathroom, needing to get washed up and dressed as quickly as possible.

Harry got out of bed, quickly putting his boxers and tee shirt on. “When’re you done?”

“Dunno.”

“Meet me for breakfast.” Harry said as you ran back out, new pair of knickers on and rummaging through your wardrobe. “I’ll text you the location.”

“Harry, I-“

“-Please.”

You looked over at him as you put your trousers on, smiling at his pleading words. “Text me.”

He smiled back before looking around the room. “Where are my trousers?”

“I’ll find them later, just piss off because I need to leave.” You ran towards the door with your laptop in hand and Harry – looking quite mortified – followed. He pulled his room key out as you were closing the door, about to run down the corridor for Alessandro’s room when you felt a hand around your wrist. Harry pulled you back toward him, pressing his lips against yours. You both smiled into the kiss, feeling absolutely elated and still not sure how to process what had just happened.

“Hurry.” Harry mumbled against your lips before kissing you again. “I’ll be waiting with that morning after pill.”

“Good.”

Harry smiled. “Now, be off.”

You giggled, giving him one last peck before running down towards Alessandro.

Everything that happened between you and Harry over the last 30 months had culminated to this point; you rushing out of the room after sharing an unexpected, intimate morning together. Looking back on it, you knew that each longing look you gave him had a hidden meaning behind it. You wanted this. Maybe not right away, but the more you got to know Harry, the more you wanted to be more than just his tailor. There had always been more between the two fo you, you just had not figured it out till now.

The way he watched you with admiration while you worked, gave you praises when you were feeling down - quite literally shouting them from the streets - and spoke to you in a way that had your mind in the clouds, it all slowly built over time.

It built until you couldn’t handle it any longer and needed to show Harry just how deeply you were falling for him.

Knocking on Alessandro’s door you quickly tired to fix your hair, aware that you looked like a right mess. Because of your morning antics and inability to keep track of time, you hadn’t given your appearance a single thought. Once Alessandro opened the door, his eyes widened as he saw you standing there panting and looking distressed, instant regret hit you for not at least brushing through your hair. Alessandro would know something had happened, having known you for so long, he’d see right through you.

“Are you okay?” he asked.

“Yes, of course.”

Alessandro smiled knowingly, nodding his head as he let you in. You just raised your eyebrows, but Alessandro didn’t make another comment. You’d told him enough.

“I stopped by Harry’s room last night, wanted to congratulate him on the show and how well he did, but he wasn’t in. Any idea where he was?”

“Nope. None. Maybe he was having a wee.”

Alessandro nodded again, walking over to sit down by the table in his suite along with his event manager, head stylist, and fabric coordinator. Tons of sketches of new outfits and plans for upcoming events laid out on the table, ready to be discussed. You sat down with them, ready to take notes. You had already been a little late, so you didn’t want to do anything else wrong today. Full on concentrating, you didn’t take your eyes off the laptop for almost 30 minutes, and when you did, it was to check your phone. You’d gotten two text messages, both from Harry.

Harry Don’t forget my yellow trousers. They’re my favourite pair. x

Harry Had an amazing time this morning, by the way. Can’t wait to see you later. x

You couldn’t help the smile that spread out over your face at the messages, and you didn’t realise just how wide your smile was till Alessandro cleared his throat beside you. You looked up, turning your phone around and looking right back at your laptop as if nothing had happened.

“What’s got you smiling?” Alessandro questioned, raising his eyebrows.

“Hmm? Nothing.” You answered, trying to refocus on the document before you.

Alessandro looked down at your phone, smiled, and went on with the meeting. There would be no hiding what happened between you and Harry. Somehow, someway, the man sitting before you would hear how his ‘two prodigies’ had finally gotten together, and when that day happened, you’d never hear the end of it. Hell, he constantly reminded you that without him, the two of you would have likely never met so it was his doing that you had a best friend in Harry.

So what was he to say when he found out you and Harry were now more than friends?

[i-dont-want-your-hysteria]

Imagine: Joe realizing he’s falling in love with you, but quickly finds himself in serious denial...

(NOTE: This takes place in the same universe as my Valentine’s Day, 1983 fic ((AKA- this story takes place 3 years after that)). I recommend reading that before or after you read this, it doesn’t really matter when.)

Internal conflict, anyone...?

-----

(June, 1986)

A hot evening in Paris met you both once your afternoon together came to an end. You and Joe had spent the day at each other's sides (being as you both really wanted to go out and about, but neither of you wanted to do it alone), and were now about to get settled into the hotel room you rented at the last second. Yes, you were staying with Steve and Phil in their apartments for a weekend visit, but after careful consideration, the impulsive decision to stay on the opposite side of the city for the night prevailed. Since you knew you could, you decided you would. Besides, 6pm and trying to fight your way across Paris seemed like a bad idea. 

"It's like an exclusive sleepover," you teased as you trotted through the door into the lightly colored room, "Ooh, and it's so nice in here too! There's a great view of the pool down below, so that's definitely exclusive."

"Exclusive?" Joe laughed as he entered with all the shopping bags the two of you acquired throughout the day, "Yeah, I can get behind that- 'a luxurious and exclusive sleepover'. 'Specially with all the loot we've gathered.”

He held up the bags with a grin and set them down against the wall. "'Specially with the sense of fashion we've gathered," you turned the new, ribboned sunhat you were wearing.

He pointed and nagged, "You mean the sense of fashion I gathered for you?" "Oh please- I found the hat." "But I paid for it!" You made your way to the balcony doors and opened them, letting a cooled breeze blow your long, thin shawl forward, "And I thank you immensely for that, but you didn't have to! You were just being nice!" Joe slid onto the closest bed and warned, "It was calling out your name, Y/N. I couldn't just let you walk out of there without it! It probably would've followed us out of there if we didn't get it." "Now you see why I suggested you get those knee-highs?" you sat on the other bed with a bounce, "I thought the leopard print was only fitting for Leppard's lead singer." "And the stitched-in glitter? Was that 'only fitting' too?" An inhale sounded from you, but you passed it off with a huff of laughter, "Yes- of course it was! Tacky is totally you." Joe flopped onto his back and laughed out loud; it was all he could think to do. For the whole day, he felt different around you, like there was some sort of strange tension between you both. He didn't think of it as a negative feeling, but more of an awkward feeling than anything. He felt almost like a kid trying to act cool around a role model. And while you didn't notice it, Joe knew he had trouble forming correct sentences whenever you were around that day, and also felt the invisible pressure of your presence. He didn't know what to think of it; this feeling was out of his control. If he didn't know any better, he'd say he was trying to impress you. Whatever part of his subconscious was making him feel strange around you, he didn't want. He just did his best to ignore it. "I just like colour, and so do you," came his defense (along with a pair of fanned-out hands), "Tacky or not, colour's just my way to go." You got up with a scoff, and made your way over to the shopping bags. As you pulled out a new tape player you recently bought, you requested, "Just shut up and pick a tape. A nice room needs some nice tunes- and there's no way for you to be tacky with that." "Don't test me." he warned with an evil smirk. Next, you pulled out a small stack of tapes you bought, "C'mon, dude, I've always trusted you with the music picks- don't blow it! Now, I think I might have a mix or two in my purse, but you've got mainly these to choose from." Joe rolled over onto his stomach and gazed down at the array of tapes you scattered on the floor. He scrunched up his face in playful thought and concluded, "Well, these are all brand new- but I don't think you should break in a new player with a new tape. You gotta go old-fashioned, so I say pop in whatever mix you find first." With an approving nod, you took off your hat, plopped it on the floor, and ran a hand through your hair to fluff it out a bit. You reached for your purse to drag it over and let your fingers scan around the inside until you came across the tape in question. "What's this one called?" he asked once the tape was in sight. " 'Same Old Tunes', since it's just the same songs I always wanna hear- but just a warning, you might hear yourself on this." He wanted to look annoyed, but came off looking flattered instead. After you got the batteries and the tape inside the player, you pressed play and let the solid beat flow from the new speakers. Joe's eyes lit up upon hearing the song, "Eddie Money? I expected no less from you." "Please, the Money Man always seems to find his way on there somehow," you pointed at the player. Not a second later, what sounded like two loud, separate, but consistent knocks sounded off from the other side of the room's door.

"Come in?" both you and Joe answered confusedly.

The door swung open, and Steve and Phil burst inside. Both ecstatic, they immediately started rambling off to you. "Y/N we need you!" Phil sputtered first. "We need you downstairs right now!" Steve urged next. You turned to them, still sitting on your knees, and put your hands up, "Woah, woah, hold on- what are you two doing here?" Joe didn't even move a muscle, as if he were used to this kind of thing. He added onto your interrogation, "Yeah, and how did you know we were here? We were just about to call you and-" "Oh we got out and about; you two are easy to spot and follow," Phil shrugged, pushing the dilemma aside, "Now Y/N, we need you to do us a favor right now-" "Why though?" Steve butted in, "And we need you to do this for us with no questions asked. Alright? It's for a bet, we'll tell you that much, but there needs to be no questions from you. What we need you to do is we need you to walk downstairs with us, go out to the pool, and just jump in without a word." Phil cut him off and held up a finger, "And we need you to pretend you don't know us." Now utterly perplexed, you turned around and exchanged a look with Joe on the bed. He had nothing to say, but he did raise his eyebrows, pout, and shrug; the traditional expression and gesture of "might as well". You looked back at the Twins and sighed, "Guess this outfit's safe to dunk... okay, okay, let's go." They both quietly cheered as you stood up, and as Joe broke down laughing, rolling onto his back. "Don't move until I get back!" is what you laughed at him as you threw all your change out of your pockets. You slipped your shawl off your shoulders, bunched it up, and threw it at Joe (who caught it with one hand). "I'll be watching!" he called out just before the door shut. Just like that, he was alone- and alone with the music, no less. "Got so high we had to pull to the side, we did some shakin' 'til the middle of the night!" He sat himself up, sitting cross-legged, and gazed down at your shawl which he held in both of his hands. At this point, he realized his heart was pounding. The feeling of it confused him; it was the same sensation he experienced all day around you- the same sensation he felt when you took off your hat and ruffled up your hair, and the same sensation he felt when you took off your shawl and threw it at him. Again, though, he tried to ignore it, and stood up to watch you fulfill the dare Steve and Phil put you up to. He took slow steps outside onto the balcony, walking among the hat and the tapes you left on the floor. "I got a little nervous..." That's what this feeling was- nervousness. Why was he feeling so damn nervous around you all of a sudden? "She took her coat off..." The image of you taking your shawl off came to him suddenly, then it turned into the image of you taking your hat off as well. He saw the tan and white woven stripes being lifted up, the red ribbon flopping, your hair falling down as the pre-sunset sunlight beamed on you in an almost heavenly way, and your hand going up and messing up your locks just the right amount; it was all he could see. In his eyes, the sight of you was something like an earworm he couldn't tune out. "She looked so pretty..." Then, you were throwing your shawl at him again, and his mind repeated the song's line without thinking twice. "She looked so pretty..." Immediately, he caught himself, and time slowed down. "Wait, wait, did I just call Y/N pretty?" his conscience nagged him. "I'm always talkin', baby, talkin' too much-" Joe looked out at the city bathed in the sunset. Everything was so slowed down and still for the first time that day, and his mind was now vulnerable. Right then and there, his thoughts started to tangle him in their own sort of intrusive web, and he tried to get out of it like his life depended on it. "That's why you bought her the hat," one voice said, "You thought she looked so pretty in it." It wasn't what he wanted to hear, but it persisted. He questioned it and tried to reason with it. "Do I think Y/N's pretty? Is that why I'm nervous around her?" Another voice in his head droned on, "Duh, of course she's pretty, but it's just a platonic feeling. She is good-looking; gorgeous, even-" His heart dropped into his stomach at the word "gorgeous"- it also wasn't what he wanted to hear. He was only making it worse. So then why was he thinking it to begin with? Again, though, Joe shook away the feeling altogether; he spotted Steve and Phil out on the pool patio several floors below, and they met up with two other guys he'd never seen before. The singer smiled to himself, wanting to see if all went according to plan. Sure enough, a few seconds later, he saw you walk outside, pick up speed, and then jump right into the water without hesitation.

Joe let himself laugh as the Terror Twins cheered, and as you popped to the surface of the water. You looked up at him from far below and waved, sporting a big grin. Joe waved back as well, almost in a daze, then got sucked back into the web. "See, that right there; why are you so fucking nervous around her all of a sudden? It's not like we've got any romantic tension with each other!" Down below, Steve and Phil pulled you out of the pool, and you each gave them a sopping wet hug. Your laughter and their cheers of triumph echoed up to the balcony, and the acoustics of it all prickled a latent memory of Joe's. It was a memory of a different hotel, also in France, but with a certain song playing in the distance. The faint memory gave him the heart-pounding feeling as well; it had to be associated with you. He gasped to himself, and suddenly the full memory flooded back to him. "We kissed-!" he thought. "Valentine's Day, three years ago, we KISSED- how the hell could I forget something like that?!" The fact reached his mouth, and he very quietly repeated it to himself out loud, in denial, "I kissed Y/N..." He couldn't believe himself, but he liked the sound of the sentence. He hated that he liked the sound of it. It was almost like a sudden dream come true. "Kissing Y/N was never a dream of mine though, was it? No, no, it couldnt've been..." But then again, he recalled enjoying the kiss. He thought about it a lot the next day, and the next day after that. After the next next day, however, he just let it go. Why make trouble over something that would just ruin a good friendship? There was no use being hung up on it if he didn't have any feelings for you. "I love that little girl, and I just can't get enough." Again, his mind repeated the song without thinking twice. "I love that little girl, and I just can't get enough." Finally, his mind delivered the killing blow. He froze, and let it hit him. "Wait, am I in love with Y/N...?" For that second- that very long second- reality was put on hold. Joe remained frozen, and gazed off at the sight of Paris before him. The evening wind blew his hair back as it picked up some speed, and he shivered in the heat. If he thought that same thing at any other time that day, he would've dismissed it immediately. However, it seemed to hit him rather hard right then and there. He just couldn't understand why. It was only making the web pull him in more. "Is that what I was feeling all day...?" At that moment, Joe realized that the only way out of this web was to consult the others for advice. However, he knew he couldn't. Yes, they were closer than brothers to him, but you were also practically one of those brothers. Whatever he was feeling, he knew he shouldn't be feeling it about a fellow brother. This was the last thing he could tell anyone, and he knew it instantly. It was nothing but a mistake in the making. Despite that, he still tried to picture what everyone else would say to him. Maybe doing so, he liked to think, would help himself get untangled. Suddenly, Rick appeared next to him, and he asked, "Why are you thinking about Y/N so much right now?" "I'm not trying to!" Joe pictured himself being defensive right off the bat, "I did spend the whole day with her..." The vision of the drummer scoffed at him, "Hate to break it to you, mate, but you spend almost every day with her. Why is today the day that you're all tongue-tied?" "The hell if I know, but it's not like she's the only thing on my mind..." And with that, you were suddenly taking off your hat and ruffling your hair again, and then you were throwing your shawl at him and trotting out the door, and then you were sitting with all the tapes, and the sun was shining on you from the balcony. You were the only thing on his mind. "You want to be what's on her mind, though," Sav suddenly chimed in, taking a seat on the bed, "Because you just can't spend enough time with her. You're always looking forward to being with her." Rick pointed out, "And oh boy, did you soak up all the Y/N time today." Sav leaned back and chuckled at the comment, "You really did, yeah." As Joe looked between both of them, he didn't know what to say. Instead, he let his eyes drift over to the television. He blinked, and suddenly it was on, and you were on its screen, going through a stack of tapes you might buy. Rick walked over to it, changed the channel, now making it display you looking out at the Seine. He pressed it again, and then you were taking a picture of the singer at a crosswalk. Again, and you were trying on the red-ribboned hat in the accessories shop. "Every moment from today that you're remembering," the bassist went on, softer this time, "Is a moment where you thought she looked pretty, right? Those were times where you just wanted to look at her. You do realize you could've looked at her all day, right?" "Yeah... but I did..." And he did.  He couldn't deny. "It takes a lonely night with nowhere to go..." Joe turned back to the outside, and Steve was next to him on the balcony now. He beckoned him to watch the scene on the patio more, "And look at her down there, making a good time happen with us. Times like these always happen when she's around, right? Don't you want times like these to last? You know that's only possible if she sticks around- and I mean for a long time." "Just call Rosanna, it's a hell of a show!" "Yeah... yeah, that's true..." Joe sighed. Steve leaned on the railing, teasing him, "So you admit you want her around all the time?" Joe scoffed at the guitarist who wasn't there, "Well, yeah, of course I do- she's wonderful! You like her too! We all do! It's not like I'm totally engrossed by her." When he turned around and began to walk inside, he looked up, and Phil was suddenly in front of him. "Then why are you still holding her shawl?" Joe looked down at the garment in his grasp, and his heart sped up again- as if he were holding part you in his hands. He hadn't been aware that he was still holding it, but he couldn't let it go. He was stuck, and didn't know what to do with it. He looked up, desperate for more advice, but his band mates were gone. "Shit," he breathed, fixing his gaze on the bunched-up fabric.

He slowly returned to the bed, and laid himself back down. His fingers were still tangled in your shawl, and he stared blankly ahead at the ceiling. Now, he was at a loss. Sav appeared out of thin air again, and looked down at him, "Calm down, mate. You've just got a crush- it's nothing big!" "If it's just a crush..." Joe tried to tell him, hating the word of choice, "Then why is it so... paralyzing?" Sav straightened himself up and bit his lip, "Oh, that is a good point..." Then Sav was gone, and a new song was playing. "I do recall, those were the best times most of all..." Rick was back as well. "It's just a phase- you won't feel like this next week. Just wait it out, you know?" "I've been feeling like this for weeks, Rick," Joe spoke up to the ceiling, "Maybe even months. I never knew it until now but- this nervousness, or whatever it is, it's been sticking around for a while. How long until it passes?" "In the heat with a blue jean girl, burning love comes once in a lifetime..." The drummer sighed and stood up, "Oh god, I can't tell you that..." Then Rick was gone, and Steve and Phil were on either side of the bed. Steve talked to him first, "If you're this paranoid of being in love with her-" "Don't say that, mate!" Phil playfully barked at him, then leaned in close to whisper, "Joe doesn't like that word-!" "What- 'love'? Well he better get used to it, because that's what it's looking like to me." Joe covered his face with a hand, and kept the other on your shawl. Steve went on, "Anyway, if you're this paranoid, how the hell are you gonna survive the night with her here?" Phil made a small gasping noise, and looked down at Joe, "Oh my god, is that why you suggested getting a hotel for the night? You thought that that Valentine's Day kiss would have a part two?" "No! No- I agreed with her- I wasn't the one who suggested it!" "Then that's why you agreed. It was just an opportunity to spend more time with her," Phil reasoned. "Okay, look," Joe sat up, and turned to Steve, "Maybe you were right in saying I want her around more often, and maybe I do think about her a lot, but I don't care about any of that right now. All I want is to define this feeling as something that's not serious. I just wanna hear that it's not real, and I want to believe that. I want to be satisfied with that. Okay?" The Terror Twins fell silent and exchanged looks with each other. They really had no other choice but to tell him. Steve patted Joe's shoulder and said, "But we're you, and we've told you a bunch of times that it's not real. You're still not satisfied. Maybe you better listen to that." Then the younger of the two guitarists was gone. Joe stared at the empty space in front of him, and laid back down with a sigh of resignation. At this point, Phil got up and stood at the foot of the bed. "I think you're gonna have to be on your own for this one, mate." "Yeah, thanks for that." He attempted to get through to the singer, "But why is the thought of this scaring you so much if it's not true?" Joe didn't want to answer anymore; he'd had just about enough and was ready to accept defeat. His silence didn't stop his friend's voice from continuing, however. "Oh... you're scared that it's becoming true..." Joe met him with more silence. "And you know that you can't love her, cos she's part of the crew. You think you shouldn't love her, cos' it's 'not right'..." A breeze blew through the room again as Joe continued to stare at the mirage of the guitarist with quiet annoyance. "You and Y/N have just been 'a little bit more than work pals' for a few years- and you're afraid anything else would just be... wrong..." Joe's head tilted towards Phil, eyes creating a dark, fed-up expression, "Laying out the facts for me isn't helping at all." "Well, then... I've got a proposal," Phil clapped his hands and pointed at him. He took a few slow steps towards the bed, and sat on the end of it. "You do?" Joe sat up, looking hopeful, as if he might finally have a way out of this mess. "I don't think you're in love with Y/N." Joe's eyes lit up, and he gaped at his friend's sudden conclusion, "You don't?" "No, no, of course not," Phil shook his head, "Too rushed." "Oh, thank god. What a relief..." Joe closed his eyes and laid back down. Just like that, the web was gone, and he could go on with life normally as if this had never happened. Those words were all he needed to hear. "'Too rushed'-" Joe thought to himself, "How simple a phrase, yet the relief it provides is overwhelming. Can't believe I didn't think of that sooner!" Just when he thought he was in the clear, he realized Phil was still there, staring at him. "You're not off the hook so easy, Joe." he frowned. Joe scoffed at him, "Why not? You gave me what I needed- you can pop away now!" Phil gave him a smile of sympathy- the slight smile someone puts on before telling bad news. That was all it took to make Joe's heart leap again. "You aren't in love with her, but wow- are you falling pretty hard." Then Phil was gone, and Joe was alone with the music again. "Those summer nights are callin', stone in love..." Then that was it. That was his death sentence: not in love, but falling pretty hard. Somehow, that was even worse than being fully in love with you. Joe was still laying motionless on the bed with your shawl long after Phil had disappeared. His own words kept repeating themselves over and over again in his mind. Each thought was another seed that branched off and formed new interpretations of the same, fatal conclusion. "I'm falling in love..." was what it always came to, though. "I'm falling in love... with Y/N." He didn't want to be thinking this- he knew it wasn't right at all. Being a lover- your lover- wasn't supposed to sound comforting to him at all. Maybe it felt inevitable, but it also felt wrong in some way. He knew he shouldn't let things come to this- but he couldn't help it. If he was falling, that didn't necessarily mean he was going to land. That's what made it scarier. How long would he be stuck like this for? He'd rather bury it deep in his mind and just forget he ever thought of any of it. And yet, it was all he could see when he closed his eyes; the thought of being with you. It drove him mad. "She looked so pretty..." one corner of his mind said freely again, now that all the damage was done and he could think with ease. It kept replaying over and over again in his head; all of it- all of the moments from that day that he loved. It started with you smiling at him, you taking your hat off, you ruffling up your hair as the curtains blew behind you, you looking out at the city, you smiling, you taking your hat off, you ruffling up your hair as the curtains blew behind you, you smiling- And then the door to the room suddenly opened, and Joe was brought back to reality. Time sped up to its normal speed again, and his eyes snapped out of their closed state. You were now in the doorway, and soaking wet with a towel around your shoulders. Joe sat up without even thinking, dropping your shawl on the floor in the process. Just like that, all was back to normal. "Well that was unexpected!" you laughed, walking over to him with excitement, "But it did us a lot of good-!" He watched as you revealed a bottle of wine (very expensive wine- if that) from underneath your towel, and held it out for him to take. Joe, still not having said a word, took the bottle, his jaw dropping as he stared at it. "How the hell did you-?" "It was part of the bet that those two idiots made- they gave me part of their share," you told him, smiling proudly. "What kind of bet involved you- specifically you- jumping into the pool fully clothed?" "Oh, I'll tell you in a bit- I'd rather get dried first," you began to dry off your hair and walk into the bathroom, "They ran the story by me real quick as we walked down there. It involves two idiots that aren't Steve or Phil, a golf ball, a lot of alcohol, and ten strangers." "Sounds like a normal day for them if you ask me." You laughed, "Oh, believe me, it's not the worst thing they've ever done. And they're not gonna skin us alive for flaking out on them for the night- so I call that a win." Joe glanced at the bottle in his hands again and chuckled, "So now what do we do with this?" "We drink?" came your reply. "Sounds good enough to me- but what are those two doing now? Are we gonna run into them at all or...?" You walked back out, holding a hair dryer in your hands, "I don't think so, but we may have to bail them out of jail tonight. I already told them we've never seen them before in our lives." "Good call- but I still wanna hear this bet story-!" You rolled your eyes, put the hair dryer down, and grabbed a towel from the bathroom. You threw it on your own bed and sat down, ready to tell him the tale as your tape kept playing on. "Golden girl, I'll keep you forever..." "So earlier today, those two went to a bar, and a golf ball bounced up and landed in Phil's drink..." As you started off with the recounting of events, Joe took in the entire sight of you. He paid attention to every detail of your face, your voice, your hair- everything. As he did so, he could still hear the words he imagined Phil taunting him with: "But wow- are you falling pretty hard..." And maybe he was, but with you in front of him right then and there, he felt perfectly content with that. If that was the case, he figured he had no choice but to ride it out and watch it happen. Maybe it wouldn't be such a bad thing after all. You seemed happy with the way things were, so things could only get better, right? Either way, Joe was falling in love, and he knew he'd let himself fall until he hit rock bottom. "Can't help myself, I'm falling stone in love."

---- “Shakin” by Eddie Money “Stone In Love” by Journey (x)

[let-it-raines]

Catch Me If You Can (40/40)

298 days. That’s how long Killian Jones was away from a baseball field. It’s less than a year, only part of a season for him, but it might as well have lasted a decade as he alternated between physical therapy and spending an excessive amount of time sitting on his couch.

But then he came back and won the World Series.

It’s something no one saw coming, and it’s certainly not something anyone who knows about his arm would predict. Now it’s a new season with new possibilities, and anything could happen. On-field reporter Emma Swan will be there to cover it all even if she is not his biggest fan right now.

Asking her out live on-air will do that.

Rating: Mature

a/n: I’ve written a lot of words - it’s actually a ridiculous amount - but some stories worm their way into your heart. This one definitely goes in the top five of that for me. I don’t know if it’s because this was the first story I managed to write after getting some pretty harsh words sent my way or if it was because this story was something I wrote throughout my pregnancy. Did you guys notice how much food was involved? That’s why. Haha. Nevertheless, this is a special one. Thanks for coming along for the ride ⚾️

Thanks to you @resident-of-storybrooke​ for all of her hard work with me on this one​! I’ve kept this epilogue a secret from you as your gift for being a spectacular human being, so I hope you enjoy it ❤️

AO3: Beginning | Current 

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-/-

“What are you wearing today?” Ruby asks her over the speaker on her phone.

Emma hums in response as she thumbs through the clothes in her closet, passing by sweater after sweater that Killian has organized by color despite her consistently messing up his organizational system for their closet. Miraculously, it always gets fixed, heels going on the shelf and white sweater moving to its section instead of chilling with the red jackets on the other side of the room. She didn’t need a closet this big, not really, but if this is what came attached to the master bedroom in their brownstone, Emma is certainly going to fill it up with clothes and boots and far too many hats.

She’s simply not going to organize them the way that her husband wants her to.

“I’m not sure yet,” Emma tells Ruby while running her hand runs over a black turtleneck sweater that might look good with her plaid skirt and the thigh-high boots that she owns three pairs of now since she wears them so often. It’s not a problem no matter how much Killian says it is as he places them on the shelf. “It’s cold outside, but it’s going to be sunny. Maybe my plaid skirt with the black sweater. What are you wearing?”

“Jeans and a sweater, but it’s not my big day.”

“It’s not my big day either.”

Ruby sighs, and Emma can imagine the exasperated look on her face and the way that Graham is likely sitting on the bed behind her reminding her to be gentle or something similar. He should know better after so many years with Ruby – she’s not gentle when she’s in a teasing mood, and she’s definitely in a teasing mood.

“It is your big day,” Ruby corrects. “Your husband could be retiring from baseball today. That’s a huge fucking deal.”

Emotion lodges itself in Emma’s throat, and if she could swallow it down and get rid of it for the day, she would. Quickly, she turns around to look and make sure Killian isn’t standing in the closet or the bedroom. He’s not, at least that she knows. He could be hiding in that blind spot near the bathroom. He’s got weirdly quiet footsteps, and she can very rarely hear when he’s moving in this house.

“Killian wants to think about it as any other game. He’s told me approximately five hundred times that this isn’t a big deal.”

“And you believe him?”

“Hell no,” Emma scoffs as she unties her robe and hangs it on a hook before pulling the plaid skirt off of its hanger and slipping into it as most as she can without having someone tug the last little bit. It’s got this stupid hook that never does quite right. “He hasn’t slept in days. Like, actual days. I wake up in the middle of the night to find him reading or running his fingers over me or something. Killian doesn’t want to admit it, but baseball is in his bones. He’s never going to be able to fully leave it behind. He just…they’re down three games to none in the ALCS and even if they win tonight, they could lose tomorrow. I don’t – I want him to win tonight, but I think if that happens, he’ll just keep holding onto the hope that it’s not over yet.”

“It’s never over until it’s over.”

“You sound like Killian.”

“I’ve spent a hell of a lot of time with him in the past six years. It was bound to happen at some point.”

“I’m pretty sure I’m the one who was supposed to start picking up his mannerisms, not you.”

“We’re sister wives, baby.”

“Um, no,” Emma laughs as she clasps her bra together behind her back, “we are not sister wives. I love you, but that’s not true.”

“Ah whatever.” Ruby scoffs. “Is the jersey going to go over that sweater well?”

“Yep.”

“The plaid may not mix with the stripes.”

Emma clicks her tongue, a protest on her lips, but then there’s a high-pitched squeal followed by small legs lacking pants running into the closet. It’s not like she can judge. She doesn’t have a shirt on.

“Mommy,” Jace squeals, still giggling and running toward her until he’s slamming right into her calves and wrapping his fingers around her legs while his dark mop of hair brushes up against her thigh. “Mommy, Mommy, Mommy.” “What, Jace?” she questions with a small laugh before scooping him up and resting him on her hip. She swears that he gets bigger every single day, and it kind of freaks her out. Then again, most things about being a mom to a two-year-old kid are terrifying. But also weirdly rewarding. She’s been reassured by Mary Margaret, Elsa, Ariel, and Anna that it’s normal, but she’s not sure she believes that quite yet. “What’s got you running in here out of breath?”

“Daddy funny,” Jace giggles, and like he was summoned by the laugh (he probably was), Killian walks into the closet with a small smile on his face and the slightest shake of his head.

Handsome as ever.

“Daddy is funny,” Emma agrees, leaning down to press her lips against Jace’s forehead, “but we can’t tell him because his ego might get bigger and then you and I won’t have any room in the house.”

“Ems,” Ruby interjects, “I’m going to let you go so that you can continue to tell lies about Killian being funny.”

“Okay, I’ll see you soon. I’m wearing the plaid skirt.”

“It’s not going to go with the stripes,” Ruby says before the line goes dead.

“You’re hysterical, love,” Killian grumbles, walking toward her and placing his hands on her waist. They’re warm and rough, callouses that she’s grown used to scratching up against her skin, and he tugs her zipper up without her asking. He’s going to have to undo it when she puts her sweater on, but it’s sweet that he realized she needed a bit of help. “Where’s your shirt?”

“Where are our son’s pants?”

He arches a brow before waggling them both across his forehead, a smirk stretching across his lips. “Touché, darling. Touché. Jace seemed fit to not stop squirming around so that I could tug his jeans up.”

Jace smiles at her, a toothy grin, and it’s almost not fair how much he looks like Killian. Genetics are not supposed to work this way. There is supposed to be some of her in him. She didn’t carry him in her body for nine plus months for him to not at all be like her.

There’s supposed to be some kind of payback or reward or something.

(Unconditional love or whatever, probably.)

“Baby, did you not let Daddy put on your pants?”

“Nope.”

“Would you let me put on your pants?”

“Nope.”

Emma rolls her eyes and looks up at Killian who simply shrugs his shoulders. “Well, I guess you won’t wear any pants, and I won’t wear a shirt. Daddy will have to go without shoes.”

Killian shrugs. “All in all, I think I’ve gotten the good deal here.”

“You have,” she promises, pressing up on her toes to quickly brush her lips over Killian’s. He needs to leave soon to go to what may be his final practice (she swears that she’s not thinking about it too much), but they were all going to ride over to the stadium together. “I’ll get him dressed, okay? You don’t have to worry about it.”

“Swan, no. You’ve still got to get ready. I’m perfectly capable of dressing him.”

“His lack of pants suggests otherwise.”

Killian opens his mouth to say something, but then his lips are pressing together and he’s reaching forward to run his fingers over Jace’s stomach while his other hand comes to rest on her ass, squeezing enough that she jumps.

“I’ll dress him,” he continues. “We’ve got to have a go at the jeans again. He might want the light wash instead of the dark. The kid is particular.”

“Just like you,” Emma sighs before handing Jace off to Killian. “I’ve only got to curl my hair and then finish getting dressed, okay? It shouldn’t take me more than thirty minutes, and then we can go.”

“There’s no rush, my love. Take your time.”

Killian walks out of the closet talking to Jace, murmuring little nothings that Emma can’t make out but that she’s sure are sweet and funny and probably ridiculous. It makes her heart swell, which isn’t good for how emotional she is today. She told herself that she wouldn’t be sad, that she would believe Killian’s lies about today not being a big deal, but Killian is a liar. Anyone that says today isn’t a big deal is a liar.

She’s a liar.

And she’s standing in the middle of her closet holding her hand against the chain around her neck staring at shelf after shelf of Yankees t-shirts and sweatpants and uniforms. This sport and this team are so intertwined with their lives and nearly everything that they do, and Emma’s not sure how she’s going to function commentating on games where Killian isn’t playing. When she got the promotion, she knew this would happen eventually. It was at the back of her mind, and it was supposed to stay there.

This wasn’t supposed to come so soon.

Killian is only thirty-three, and Emma always thought that they’d have more time.

Dammit. Why is she letting herself spiral like this when she’s supposed to be curling her hair and putting this sweater on and not freaking out?

Taking a deep breath, Emma grabs the black sweater, a pair of socks, and her boots before tugging them all on, taking each task one at a time while she gets ready. It’s fine. It’s simply another day and another baseball game. There’s nothing happening today that’s any different. They’re going to go to the stadium, drop Jace off with Ariel, Killian will go to practice, and Emma will go up to the booth to review her notes and do the pre-game show. Then the game will begin.

It’s all normal and just what they’ve been doing for almost every home game since Jace’s birth.

(Except it’s not normal.)

(She’s going to act like it is.)

When they get to the stadium an hour later, Emma and Jace both fully dressed despite the complications, the hallways are full of people – publicists, players, family members, coaches, vendors. Anyone Emma can think of is flooding the walkways, most of them waving hello and giving Jace high fives that Emma knows Killian will sanitize later simply because he’s a germ freak now, and there’s a particular look in each of their eyes, a tightness in all of the smiles, that make it especially hard for Emma to pretend that today is a normal day.

“Jace Jones,” Ariel yells out when she comes into view. “What’s up, my man?”

“Ariel,” he screeches out, squirming in Killian’s arms until Killian puts him on the ground and he runs toward Ariel. He’s a blur of pinstripes and the number twenty-nine running in a miniature version of Killian’s jersey. Emma’s got her version hidden away in her purse.

“I was always jealous of other guys who got this.”

Emma twists from where she’s standing to look over at Killian as he softly smiles at Ariel and Jace, the crinkles around his eyes much more prominent than they’ve ever been. “What?”

He nods his head before turning to face her as well. Killian puts his hands on her hips, tugging her a little bit closer to him, and she lazily slings her arms around his neck so that she can smile up at him and his stupid blue eyes. Emma talks for a living. She should be able to find a better way to describe how much she loves Killian’s eyes, but that’s not really in the job card for baseball commentators.

Killian’s lips tick up to the right, the crinkles showing up some more, and he can’t seem to decide between looking at her or Jace. “That,” Killian repeats, nodding at Jace. “I used to be damn jealous of all of the guys who got to have their kids watch them play and got to wear their numbers on their backs. He’s not…fuck, Emma. He’s not going to remember that I did this, that I got to be this really cool guy who lived out my dreams and brought joy to a lot of people, and it’s so idiotic – ”

“Hey, hey, no,” she whispers as her hand keeps running through the hair at the nape of his neck and her own eyes fill with water, “don’t go there, twenty-nine. You’ll drive yourself crazy. Jace may not remember seeing you play professional baseball, but he’s going to know that you did. And he’s going to have a million other memories that are going to be so much cooler than this, yeah? Today isn’t an ending, babe. It’s a new beginning.”

Killian sniffles, his jaw still tense, but it softens a little bit when he dips his head down to hers and starts running his lips across Emma’s jaw and down her neck, pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses that light her entire body on fire and make her cant her hips up into his until Killian has her pressed into a concrete wall. It’s not unusual for them to find a spot to make out in this stadium, not at all, but it’s unusual for them to be this open about it. Their relationship has been a public one without their permission, and they try to keep it as quiet as possible.

Right now, Emma doesn’t care.

Not at all.

Until there’s a whistle and Ariel speaking. “I know you guys are probably going to try for another one of these munchkins during the infamous baseball mating season, but here is really not the place to do it.”

Killian chuckles against Emma’s jaw, his scruff brushing into her skin while his smile is tattooed there, and of all of the things Emma is going to miss, she thinks this might be at the top of the list. She guesses that they’ll simply have to do it at home…or Killian can come visit her at work. They have their options.

“Daddy kisses Mommy a lot,” Jace explains to Ariel in his broken speech, which only makes Killian snicker into her skin even more before he pulls back.

“I bet I can kiss you more than I kiss Mommy,” Killian challenges as he swipes Jace out of Ariel’s arms and peppers kisses across his face and down his arms.

Emma’s heart is never going to function normally again, and their insurance is not going to cover this.

“You guys are ridiculously cute,” Ariel sighs before walking up to Emma and wrapping her up in a hug so that she can whisper in her ear. “It’s all clear for you to come down after the game. Will and Eric are under strict instructions to keep him in the dugout instead of letting him go back to get his PT and hide out away from the field.”

“Thank you, A. You’re the best.”

“Yo, Professor Jones,” Will calls out from down the corridor, and everyone’s eyes glance over toward him. “I know you’ve got that fancy college degree now and could actually be a professor, but you’ve still got to show up to practice.”

“I’m right outside the door to the clubhouse, Scarlet,” Killian yells back.

“Outside isn’t inside, man. I bet Jace knows that, and he’s only two.”

“Give me three minutes, and I’ll be there.”

“Al is going to have your head.”

“He can have it.”

“My boy,” Killian sighs as he brushes Jace’s hair off of his forehead, “will you be good for Ariel so that Mommy and Daddy can go to work?”

“Nope.”

That is undeniably the word of the day.

Sending Killian off to practice and the game is a little bit more difficult than usual. The words are lengthier, the hugs longer and tighter, and the final “good luck” and “I love you” weigh heavier on Emma’s mind as she walks away from the clubhouse and to the elevators so that she can go and do her job.

It’s a hard day, but it is simply a day.

And a ballgame.

-/-

Before Killian’s first pitch, he looks up to her in the commentator’s booth and taps his fist right over his heart.

She does the same thing back before holding her hand to the ring that still rests against her sternum.

“You’ve got this, twenty-nine,” she whispers, not caring that the microphones are going to pick it up.

-/-

The Yankees lose, 3-2, and the loss definitely stings. The season is over, but Killian’s career is also finished, the bookend closing on the mound and his time there.

A beginning, she told him. It’s an ending but also a beginning of him not spending half of the year with a crazy schedule. Her schedule is crazy too, but at least she won’t be traveling with the team anymore.

It’s a new beginning for her too.

Chants of Killian’s name ring out around the stadium, a melody that sends chills down Emma’s spine, and Killian walks around the bases waving. He looks like he both loves and hates it, and Emma chuckles as she waits in the dugout, hidden away from him until he steps back on the mound one final time.

The man she loves is so intertwined with this game and this field, but she knows he’s also so much more than any of this.

He’s everything.

“You ready to go support Daddy, kid?” Emma asks Jace as his little blue eyes look around at all of the noise. He’s not used to this.

“Yes,” he says, and Emma sighs in relief at finally getting that word out of him.

It’s not a long walk, not at all, but it feels that way as she passes by all of Killian’s teammates, past and present, to get to him. When he sees the two of them, he immediately moves toward them. His strides are long, almost quick enough to be a run, and Killian wraps his arms around them so tightly that Jace protests and tries to move. He can’t, though, especially when Killian slams his lips into hers and kisses her deeply enough that every thought that Emma had disappears into the continuing chant of the crowds.

Killian. Killian. Killian.

It’s overwhelming but in the best way, and every thought that Killian has about it is felt in the kiss that leaves her breathless and with barely working limbs.

Falling in love with Killian was like this, overwhelming, unexpected, terrifying, and thrilling all at once, and she’d do it all over again in a heartbeat.

“Easy tiger,” Emma laughs when Killian finally pulls back, “we’ve got company.”

“Are we talking the kid we just squashed or all of these people?”

“I’m talking Jeff and the camera that’s on our face. I’m supposed to interview you right now.”

The smile that breaks out on his face is beatific, and he kisses her again. “I love you, I love you, I love you.” Killian grabs onto Jace and pulls him into his arms. “You too, kid. You ready to watch Mommy work? She’s really good at this even if it isn’t her job anymore.”

“She play baseball?”

“Something like that, lad.”

Emma barely remembers the questions that she asks Killian. It’s a blur of laughter and funny questions and maybe one or two actual questions about baseball. It all gets interrupted by Jace’s talking, most of it tired babbling, and then Liam, Elsa, and the rest of Killian’s family coming out onto the field. The stands don’t empty out, the constant buzz of the stadium staying around, but Emma doesn’t bother looking around up there when she’s got so much going on down here.

It’s absolutely everything.

Even more so when Killian takes Jace’s hand and walks him around the bases, the two of them laughing together in the way that they always do whenever they’re together, and Emma is most definitely scouring the internet for those pictures tonight.

But far too soon, the moment is over, reality coming back to everyone, and Killian has to go inside to do his press conference just like so many of his teammates. There are still articles to be written and deadlines to be met, and the world doesn’t resolve around them.

Emma’s world revolves around the two guys wearing the number twenty-nine.

She gets Jace back from Killian when they go inside, and the two of them hide out in the corner of the back of the press room as Killian settles down behind the table and all of the journalists and photographers sit in their seats. It starts mostly with the game, Killian’s stats as well as his team’s. It’s standard, just like any other post-game press.

Until it isn’t.

“You threw a one-hundred-and-one mile per hour pitch out there eighty pitches in. And it was accurate. Why are you hanging up your glove when you have some good years left?”

Emma flinches at the question, but it’s one she knew he would get. It was pretty much inevitable.

Killian’s hand reaches up to rub over his eyes, the blue sparkling against the red rims from where he’s cried and tried to hide out. “Look,” Killian starts while staring down at the baseball cap in front of him, signatures from every single teammate marking it up, “I get that I’m only thirty-three. That’s not old in life, but on occasion, it’s old in sports. The fact that I’ve played this game professionally for twelve years for the same team is a wonderful honor, especially when you consider the issues I’ve had with my shoulder. I think…it feels damn good to be able to throw an accurate strike like that one you mentioned, but it feels better to be able to hold my son without pain. It feels better for me to be able to embrace my wife or keep my arm around her shoulder while we watch a movie. Those are things I might not be able to do if I keep playing and screw my arm up a little bit more.”

Emma adjusts Jace in her arms, careful not to rouse him since he’s probably about five minutes from sleep. The kid has no idea the declaration of love his dad just made for the two of them, all of the declarations he’s been making, and he has no idea just how lucky they are that the sweet man having to talk to strangers about a huge part of his life ending is also the dumbass who thought it would be a good idea to ask her out on television.

It’s a good thing that Killian has learned from his mistakes and that she knows how to forgive.

“So you’re retiring because of your family? Lots of guys play with families.”

Killian rolls his eyes. Emma does too.

“I’m retiring because it’s my time,” Killian corrects with a forced smile on his face. “I love this game and everything that it has given me. I’m never truly going to leave it. I think I’ll likely take a few years off, maybe spend a hell of a lot of time making another kid with my wife, and then I’ll come back somehow. I don’t know. Maybe I’ll get into the commentator’s booth with Emma. I think we’d make a hell of a team, and there’s nothing I’d love more than working with her again. Maybe I’ll be a coach for an MLB team or for a college or for my kid’s little league team. I don’t know yet. I haven’t exactly gotten it figured out.”

“One more question,” Ariel calls out, and Emma swears that she’s not crying. Nope. It’s not a thing that’s happening.

Except that she’s definitely crying and far too emotional, and she doesn’t want Killian to be up there by himself for his last press conference question. So as there’s a loud chorus of questions with every reporter’s hand raised, Killian still trying to pick someone to ask a question, Emma moves around the side of the room until she’s stepping up on the stage, her heels clacking against the platform, until she’s gently sitting down on Killian’s lap.

He rolled back in his chair in anticipation of her walking this way.

And his hand is warm on her arm and around Jace’s back, and just the slight touch is enough to make her emotional all over again.

Killian deserved to go out winning the World Series again. He deserved for his Hall of Fame career to have a big bang for an ending instead of a quiet fizzle, but life doesn’t work out that way. If this is what he wants, this is what he wants, and it’ll be perfect for him.

“Lawrence,” Killian calls out, nodding to the reporter who took over Emma’s job at ESPN.

“In all of your career, what’s been your favorite moment? Do you have one?”

Killian snickers at the question before turning to the side and pressing a kiss against her forehead. “World Series 2019, game seven. That was the year that changed every aspect of my life, and that game was incredible. I don’t think I’d ever experienced such an adrenaline high before. I don’t know if I have since in terms of baseball. I just…that was a special win for me because I got to do it with my mates, a lot of whom have retired since then or been traded to other teams, but I also got to do it with Emma. I know that I…God, I know that I sound like a sap right now, and I – ”

Killian tilts his head to the side and buries his face in her hair while his arm tightens around she and Jace. She can feel his body shaking the slightest bit.

“It’s okay, Killian,” Emma promises, whispering in his ear while Jace twitches in her arms, waking up the slightest bit. “You’re doing great, twenty-nine.”

“I was a fucking liar when I said that today wasn’t a big deal.”

“I know.”

He chuckles, that same chuckle she’s heard almost every day for six years, and when Killian pulls back from the two of them, he’s got a smile on his face.

“That year was the first time I had a partner in my life outside of my brother that I knew was always going to be by my side, no matter what happened, and I think baseball wise, that moment is always going to be my favorite. I’ve loved almost every minute of this journey, even having to deal with all of you guys hounding me about every move that I make, but if you don’t mind, I think I’ve got a toddler who is fast asleep and needs to go home.”

Emma twists her head to look at Killian, and he throws her a wink before leaning forward and pressing his lips to hers in a kiss while applause fills the room, an echo of the standing ovation Killian received while out on the field. He doesn’t stay to listen to this one, though. Instead, he encourages her to stand from the chair, and the two of them walk out of the room with his arm looped around her waist to the sound of people cheering for Killian.

He deserves every single clap.

They don’t stick around the stadium much longer. Killian runs into a few people who want to say goodbye, mostly those who won’t see him in their personal lives, but they’re able to leave pretty quickly. Their families have already gone home per Killian’s request of not making a big deal out of today. They’ll have some kind of celebration next week, one full of food and laughter and joy that isn’t so bittersweet like today.

When they get home, Jace is completely out, the car ride having knocked any remaining wakefulness out of him, and instead of waking him, Emma tells Killian to go take a shower while she changes Jace into his pajamas. He protests, like he always does, but eventually he relents and walks out of the room and down the hall to their bathroom so that he can shower. Emma figures that he likely needs a little time alone anyway.

It’s a weird day.

Once Jace is asleep, his arms wrapped around Will, the stuffed lobster toy that Jace named after Will Scarlet, Emma quietly turns on the baby monitor and closes the door behind her before making her way to the bedroom. The water in the shower is running, a constant hum of a stream, and Emma really does intend to let Killian be and let him have his moment alone where no one will bother him while the warm water beats against his skin. But Killian left the door to the bathroom open, pretty much inviting her inside, and she doesn’t think that he’ll mind even if her plan is simply to stand underneath the water with him and have her makeup fall down her face until she’s left looking like a terrifying clown.

Slowly, she steps into the room, the tile cool against her feet, and strips out of her clothes, picking them up off the floor and throwing them into the hamper. Killian hasn’t noticed her yet, the water pressure too high for him to hear her, and he’s got his back turned to her so that she has a view of strong legs and a firm ass that looks a million times better like this than in baseball pants.

She’s lucky for a lot of reasons. The muscles that stretch up Killian’s back and his arms tick off some of the more superficial ones.

Steam escapes the shower door when she opens it, a little bit of water too, but then she’s quickly pulling the clear glass door closed and stepping onto white tile so that she can wrap her arms around Killian’s waist, her finger threading into the patch of hair over his stomach, and her cheek nuzzling between his shoulder blades. Heat curls between her thighs at the feel of him, at knowing just how much she loves him, but instead of acting on any of it, she presses her lips to his back, laying soft kisses wherever she can while Killian’s hand comes to rest over hers.

“I thought you had banished me in here so that I could be alone,” he finally says as the water continues to pound down on them.

“Do you want to be alone?”

“I want to be with you.”

Emma hums and moves her arms from his stomach, sliding them up his body until her hands come to rest on his arms. Killian grunts something unintelligible, a mixture of pleasure and relief, and she’s barely even begun to work out the knots in his shoulder. He didn’t get his post-match massage, none of his usual recovery happening, so his shoulders are particularly tense. She knows exactly what to do, which muscles to apply pressure to and which to knead. It’s a rhythm and a practice that they’re been doing for years now to make sure Killian’s shoulder doesn’t get too stiff in the middle of the night.

Running her hands from his shoulders to his neck, she kneads the straining cords there while Killian reaches forward to press both of his hands against the tiled wall. His head drops, chin practically touching his chest, and his groan is almost more than Emma can handle.

“Fuck, love. I don’t...this feels so damn good, but if I don’t get to touch you soon, I’m going to lose my bloody mind.”

The heat she feels at his words, spoken in a deep and gravely tone, is almost dizzying, and Emma is ready to let him touch her, to let him bring her to life in the way that he always does. But today is Killian’s day, whether he wants to accept that or not, and instead of letting Killian turn around and kiss her, Emma wraps her arms around his waist again, dipping lower and lower until she can feel him straining warmly against his stomach.

She wants to tease him, to draw this out and make him go crazy with want now that they have actual alone time together, but Emma’s never been very good at being patient, especially not when it comes to this man wanting her. Killian’s the patient one, the one who is willing to wait until things are right, but his shallowed breathing and stuttered words make her think that he’s not very interested in being patient right now.

“Emma,” he breathes out, a mixture between a plea and a promise.

“You do this thing,” Emma begins as her finger traces underneath him, tracing a line in the vein in his length that Killian loves for her to do, “with your arms that make your veins more prominent. It’s just, like, all of the time, and your forearms are ridiculous. I get distracted staring at them. You’re a very distracting man.”

She wraps her fingers around his cock now, slow and steady as Killian’s knuckles practically go as white as the tile, and moves it in long strokes. Killian is very obviously trying to keep from thrusting his hips, the tenseness in his body back in full force, and all Emma can do is continue to stroke him and let him find more pleasure than pain as the water falls down around them and causes the hair on Killian to mat together and for the hair on her head to tangle.

“Sometimes I worry that I don’t let you know how much I love you,” she continues while Killian’s feet move and his hips begin to pump, aiding her hand in its work. “You’re so good with words and affection, with letting me know how much I mean to you, and I wish I could do the same with you. You deserve that.”

Killian’s step falters once more, and Emma thinks that he’s on the precipice of coming until he turns around, her hand falling from him as Killian’s hands come up to grip her face, kissing her with something approaching desperation. His tongue is sinful, hot and wet mixing in with hers, and Emma can feel his all the way down to her toes. There have been times over the years when they’ve gone through rough patches, when things weren’t always great between the two of them simply because of busy schedules or disagreements, but they’ve always worked back from those and come back to this.

Come back to this and everything else that makes up the two of them: baseball games, late-night baking sessions that never go right, attending far too many weddings and baby showers, having their own wedding at a courthouse on a random Wednesday, racing each other through Central Park as they run, laughing at the other as they trip over a pair of socks, sharing the depths of their hearts while under the covers, the lights of the city surrounding them.

Sobbing at a false positive on a pregnancy test. Sobbing at the accurate positive.

It’s a whirlwind, their life, and none of that can encapsulate it all.

Emma’s eyes are shut tightly as Killian continues to kiss her, his mouth insistent, and there’s no stopping the curl of heat now. Absolutely none. Especially when Killian moves his left hand and turns the water off, the stream immediately stopping so that chilled air hits the heat of her skin, gooseflesh rising. It’s cold, that’s undeniable, but Emma doesn’t care as her desire roars and Killian slowly backs them out of the shower with water dripping down both of their bodies.

“I swear if you let me trip, Jones,” Emma mumbles out as her feet hit against the cloth of the mat in the bathroom.

“You’ll what, Jones?” He enunciates the last word with a flick of his tongue against hers before he’s pulling back so that her nipples are no longer brushing against the thick patch of hair on his chest. Emma whines, her thighs too slick with wanting him to even care how desperate she sounds, and all Killian does is grab a towel from the shelf to wrap around her body, the soft cotton nothing compared to Killian’s touch. Even if he’s being an asshole right now. “I know you’re capable of a myriad of things darling, but I think you’re too desperate for me to do any of them.”

“You’re pretty confident in yourself, aren’t you?”

The towel tugs tighter around her waist, pulling her back into Killian so that his straining length brushes the inside of her thigh, and his lips are so close to her ear, breath heavy, that she’s not sure if she can handle any more of this. “Extremely. You usually like that about me.”

“You’ve had a lot of people complimenting you today. I wouldn’t want it to get into your head.”

“Of course. You’re here to keep me humble.”

“Exactly. I’m very good at my job.”

“Mhm,” Killian hums as the towel drops around them and Killian’s hands find the globes of her ass, kneading both of them while he continues to back them up into the bedroom. His lips are on her neck, her shoulder, back to her lips. “I love you, you know? It’s ridiculous how much.”

“Funny thing, I feel the same way.”

“Good.”

Once Emma falls against the mattress, they come together quickly, easily, like they have thousands of times before. Killian knows each inch of her skin intimately, knows just where to kiss and to touch and how to thrust, and it takes absolutely no time for her to begin to feel that desperation of needing him seep into her bones and settle there like it’s going to make a permanent stay. He’s fully seated in her, a heavy and thick drag that is like nothing else, and she can feel all of him hovering over her, heat and strength surrounding her he takes his time with his thrusts.

They’re slow, languid, and so damn breathtaking that Emma can’t even speak. She’s not sure that she wants to. Sometimes sex is just sex, a simple release of desire and passion to physically feel good. Other times it’s words of affection written with each kiss and feelings of love enunciated with each thrust and swirl of a thumb over a bundle of nerves.

Right now is the second one, and every word that Killian spoke to her earlier – in the hallways, on the field, in the press room – is echoed back to her as he moves within her and over her, his lips writing his love while Emma holds on and attempts to write the same words back.

Her heartbeat is thundering, a sound so loud that it blocks out nearly every other noise, and then she’s there, falling apart with a plea and a whisper, pleasure shaking over her body faster than she thought it would.

Holy fuck.

“Fuck,” Killian repeats back, almost as if he heard her thoughts. “Fuck, love. You’re exquisite.”

“So are you. You planning on finishing anytime soon?”

“I’m an old man. I’ve got to catch my breath.”

Emma barks out a laugh that Killian captures with a resounding kiss while his hips snap into hers, a perfect fit that is like nothing else in the world, and as his fingers intertwine with hers and he pulls them up above both of their heads, Killian joins her in her bliss, his body tensing up as his words become breathless, a mess that gets carried away with the thrum of the ceiling fan.

They collapse against the mattress, a tangle of sweaty limbs and wet hair, and when Killian pulls the comforter up over them, Emma turns on her side until she’s snuggled against Killian’s chest with her cheek resting against his heart and his hands in her tangled hair.

“We’re going to have to take another shower.”

Emma laughs with unbridled joy before pressing a kiss to his collarbone. “Tell me the truth. Did I have mascara running down my cheeks this entire time?”

“Oh, most definitely.”

“Totally worth it.”

“Tell that to sheets that have little black marks.”

“I think we can wash them.”

“Possibly,” Killian sighs. His hand moves down her back until it’s resting on her ass once more. “But your mascara is damn stubborn. Ruined one of my favorite shirts that way.”

“It did not.”

“No, no, it did. I swear.”

Emma huffs and reaches around to pinch Killian’s side. He doesn’t even flinch. “Would it be so terrible for the two of us to go downstairs and make some brownies and then eat all of them so that we don’t have to share with Jace?”

“I think that’s the best idea you’ve ever had.” Killian winks, trademark smirk curling on his lips. “Besides asking me out. That was a pretty bold move on your part, Swan. You had no idea that I had feelings for you. It’s not as if I’d given you any inclination.”

Emma laughs again, uncurling herself from her husband and sitting up in bed with a sated, goofy grin. “I had a pretty good idea, my love.”

-/-

-/-

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[writingwitheli]

GrandMech

Most mechs were hard to function, even with experienced pilots.

They didn't move like people do, the mechanics don't really allow for that. You have to know the engineering intimately to clearly envision how the thing was going to react to your direction. Most pilots spend months learning their piece before going into the field. There were simulators, and for a while the board argued for mechs to be built in a uniform manner for faster learning.

But technology went a bit too fast for that. And the things were way too expensive to mass produce.

Grandma Katersfield knew this well. It was her life's work.

I mean she wasn't my grandma. But she kinda was. She was everyone's grandma, in a way. Most mechs these days still have her work in them, even if there were scraps rebuild around it. Some people called it practical. Pilots called it good luck. The engineers called it "Finally someone who knows what they're fucking doing."

When she passed away, in her garage (had she ever existed anywhere else?), the military held a funeral. Most of the planets held a funeral. The board, somewhere in their core-planet bunkers, held a meeting.

The war wasn't over, and we weren't winning. And we'd just lost our best engineer. It was a big fucking hit for morale. There were losses everywhere.

Presumably after sending a swarm of government drones through the property, the board very quickly touted "Katersfield's Final Work", and "The culmination of everything she's ever done". Some people pointed out the public images that showed how the thing was half-done. But enough people wanted hope that everyone gradually bought into the idea.

The board appointed Katersfield's daughter to lead the finalization of the thing. Ann wasn't exactly an engineer, but they knew how the public would read it. They gave her a team of their best to work with.

When construction was nearly done, the board officially announced that Katersfield's son-in-law would be piloting it. Everyone expected it; he was the only striped pilot in the family. But it hit the top of everyone's news anyways.

The public test run was expected to be simple, and broadcasted live as far as the outer-space colonies.

It… didn't go so well.

Okay, it went very badly.

I mean.

Bad.

What followed was a lot of media confusion. The board hastily tried to put the blame on over-eagerness. People were fired. We lost four moons while our squadrons re-evaluated their lives.

Mark and his husband, Will Katersfield, had a very public divorce. Some people argue it was the media pressure. Some people suspect that the board forced them apart. I think it was a long time coming.

For a while the board pushed forward other candidates. They ran competitions for new mech designers and engineers and electricians. Offered an absurd amount of money and resources. A lot of cool stuff came out of it, but nothing really compares to Katersfield's work.

It was three years after that when media went into a frenzy over a low-grade video of the mech doing cartwheels over the family farm. Fucking cartwheels, man. I can't even do those in my own body most days.

Every news ship went down there as quick as they could. A bunch of civilians, too. Granny says a board member actually showed up in person.

Everyone was immediately on Ann about it. She was the only one that really stayed on the farm. She knew the machinery well enough. And maybe she'd inherited the pilot skills of one of Katersfield's late spouses.

To the dismay of the board, Ann insisted that the pilot was Thoma, one of Will's children. The media went ballistic. Kids weren't even supposed to be piloting mechs in the first place.

Thoma gave an interview to their school teacher and described the sensation of piloting upside down as "even better than going all the way around the bar on a swing and then having Grandma's cookies with two scoops of ice cream!" Their wide grin with missing teeth was eventually made into metal-cards for soldiers to attach under their breast plates and remind them of home.

At some point, Ann made the mistake of admitting that she'd taken it out for a test-run while she was tuning up some joints (she hadn't been an engineer when this started. But things change).

The board came down hard. They publicly announced that Ann was the cartwheeling pilot, and further that she'd accepted a high raking military title with absurd honors and enough pay to buy a moon. They posted a date with a public countdown clock for her departure to the front lines.

Now the way Granny tells it; Ann didn't know about any of this until her neighbor came by with the milk and a congratulations. Granny would probably piss on the board if she still could. Don't let her try it.

Ann did go. She didn't have many options, really. Her bio-logs phrase the situation as "the board made a decision. I complied."

We pushed back the front by two whole planets. Ann wasn't much of a pilot; she spent too much time thinking, but the war pushed around her. Most of the time it only took a three second clip of her unnaturally smooth landing and quick gravity adjustment to a new planet. My old mech would take two minutes to land and readjust. A lot can happen in two minutes.

The official report says Ann died on Mitas 9. The board will probably censor this whole damn thing if I try to explain what happened, but just remember that official reports are. Well. Official.

The mech was commandeered immediately. They cleaned it up, threw on a new coat of paint, and put their highest ranking pilot in the hotseat.

Everyone was in a hurry to get back to it and have a plan ready before Ann's death was publicly announced. Yeru knew the schematics by heart and spent one month living with the mech every hour of every day to make up for lost time. The board went as far as making them legally exempt from standard reports. Yeru's bios were never made public, but you can pull them from the military archives in Section B. They clearly knew their way around a mech, and honestly seemed to be a good person as far as I can tell.

The board had seemingly learned from prior incidents. The Generals hosted a secluded military showing of the first test-run. Those archives are probably deleted, but all you really need to know is that Yeru never made it off the ground.

For a few months, the military looked into sabotage. Yeru's bio-post about the joints being "just plain creaky no matter how much I oil the thing" convinced a bunch of higher-ups that the mech had been swapped out or something.

I know. Creating a whole fake mech to replace it with? Somehow managing to swap the thing out with as much board, military, and media surveillance as it has? Absurd.

Also I'm sure you're well aware that plenty of good mechs have creaky joints. I hear you ran Sacrifice 2 for a while there. Lt. Jen complained about how loud that thing was for months after he shared a hangar with it near Osylus. Not sure if that was your time or not. I'm going to tell him it was, so he'll have something to complain to you about. When he does, ask him about the wardrobe cloning incident. I'm sure he'll know what you're talking about.

Anyways.

The news about Ann went public, and the board pushed it down the feeds with reports about a new Stealth Carrier that would move faster than a pilot-ship. It did. Everyone loved it. I'm sure it's shit compared to the last carrier you were on.

Thoma, meanwhile, had grown up and gotten their way through military school. It might seem strange to you now, but Thoma actually didn't touch a mech the first decade of their service. They had a few friends and plenty worshipers, but still hadn't officially earned enough stripes to be a pilot. The Generals wanted to make sure Thoma was knocked down enough to keep from getting big-headed about it. But Thoma didn't really care.

Thoma fought hard and studied harder. They proved themselves again and again. You can look up the public records of their medal-acceptance speeches. Every damn time they would say "This is a great honor. Can I trade it in for a mech?"

Pissed a lot of people off, but it was fucking hilarious if you ask me.

Eventually Thoma led a fairly large squadron and took a half a continent in a week. When I asked them about it, they said they had sent a text message to the Generals saying "I could've gotten all of it, if I had my own mech :,(". I know them well enough to know they probably actually sent a frowny-face emoji to the Generals. Don't do that. It's hilarious. But, Don't.

Probably.

For now, anyways.

The board reluctantly let Thoma break the mech out of some museum somewhere as a reward for their service. They weren't intending for Thoma to actually run as a pilot since Thoma had already gotten to be in charge of things. It would be a media mess, at best, a military loss at worst.

Thoma did a fucking backflip over live media.

Anyways the board and the Generals argued about it for a week, but eventually did the only thing they could do. They made Thoma a pilot. There were lots of assurances that Thoma would still be holding their responsibilities as Planetary Sergeant. No one cared. Thoma had done a fucking backflip; the Katersfields were at it again.

I'm told that week of debate consisted of at least fifteen other pilots trying the mech out and reporting up failures of various kinds. Don't worry about that, you'll do fine.

I'm sure you know most of the story from there. Thoma took Belet 5 through Belet 11, and some other smaller planets along the way. Majestic. War hero. Idol. Etc etc.

The board immediately pushed Thoma’s son, Madene, into the military and straight into pilot's school. They make a lot of dumb decisions, but even the board could see the pattern here.

You might not have read this about me, but I used to be an electrician. I worked on Thoma's team for a while. The Generals gave Madene special permission to visit us sometimes so he could learn the mech hands-on. He'd always wanted to be an artist or a planetary refurbisher. That was clear from the first day we met.

I'll tell you this now, it's not part of public record: Madene ran the mech just fine when it was just us around. Thoma would give some long drawn-out speech about minding your manners and being careful with her. It was their Grandmother's soul in that machine, after all. Madene didn't really listen, but the mech ran just fine anyways.

When Madene was nearing graduation, the Generals sent their scouts around to see how things were going. The mech ran straight into their drones and fell convulsing onto the ground.

It was a hard time for a while, Thoma was upset with Madene and Madene was embarrassed. There were lots of arguments, and the Generals tried to pretend Madene just didn't have enough experience as a pilot. The idea that Madene did it on purpose didn't get recorded, but it's what a lot of people assumed. I don't think that's what happened, anyways.

Madene tried really hard after that. He pushed himself in school, and as a result they let him try out a bunch of other mechs. He proved he could handle it just as well as some of our better pilots. He took Entrapment marching around the school-system planet four times.

Thoma tore their knee in a pretty brutal fight, and since they were nearing retirement anyways the board arranged for a public hand-off of the mech.

I used to talk to her when I worked. My old pilot - the one I worked electricity for before Thoma - had always been superstitious about this sort've thing. She used to spend a good half-hour reassuring it before she's let me do any work on it. I guess I'd picked up the habit. You might want to pick it up, too, if you haven't already.

I'd asked her to help Madene out. He'd worked so hard and I could tell Thoma was slowing down.

You might have seen the media of that. Afterward Madene was particularly… verbal. Even if you didn't see that, I'm sure you heard about what happened to him after. Don't be too harsh on him, it's really not his fault. We were all too hard on him.

All the media says the Generals did a lot of research and realized I was better suited as a pilot and they shifted me over. How that actually happened was… well. A little boring.

One of their scouts had caught me helping her move over so I could get a better angle at the spinal wiring.

Blah blah blah. I'm sure you know the highlights from there.

So here's where we get to the advice that was the whole point of this message:

I admit the public eye is a little difficult to get used to. Honestly I recommend you just ignore it. They'll say shit no matter what you do.

Don't call her by the name the board gave her. I know that's what you learned in school and in training. Don't do it.

Don't piss her off.

Be patient - her memory isn't what it used to be.

Don't tell her what to do. I read your file, you have a lot of experience. I know this will be the hard part.

If the mediacom switches to one of those awful family gameshows. Just. Let it happen. No, they do not get less annoying to listen to. Yes, she knows they're all the same.

The internal heating will be On when you're on any below-regulation temperature planet. I know you're from the outer colonies. I know that will be too warm for you. Get over it and try not to dress down too much; she's easier to maneuver when you're in layers.

The one exception to the above is her tune-ups and maintenance. She doesn't like it. She never does. We have four crews to make it easier and I still do it myself sometimes to help her get over it. You're going to have to get good at negotiating.

If you leave a battle with a sudden craving in your neurons for hot and hearty soup, go get some hot and hearty soup. She'll get stubborn with you next time if you don't.

Granny will take care of you from there.

-Captain Layfar

[dragonshoard]

Don’t Leave Me (With a Smile) Chapter 1

Charlastor 1920s AU AO3 Link

Summary: New Orleans, 1926. Charlie Magne was the daughter of old money. From the city to the stock market her family had their hands in every pot. In her parent’s ideal world, she was to marry into a wealthy family for connections and continue her mother’s work with the city’s richest, but Charlie never wanted that. Her father was a reasonable man, she could make him see things her way... maybe (though her time was ticking).  

Alistair was a coincidence, a happy happenstance. And her way out. She shouldn’t have been surprised when she fell in love with him. Before, it had been enough to know that he had loved her. 

(If you could call the dark, twisted thing in his chest love)

i’m sorry for any typos ahh

--x--x--x--x--

From the glittering skyline to the bustling streets, New Orleans was truly the place to be if you were anybody. Jazz was the city’s lifeblood and the nightlife was flooded with the clarinets and trumpets playing in tune, drawing in people from miles away. 

Men and women dressed to the nines walked the streets, laughing and sometimes dancing their way to their destinations whether it be to another club or the coffee shop still open down the block. 

Similarly, a small group consisting of one man and two women, just at the start of adulthood, barely squeezed their way past the door of a small cafe into the winter air, clutching onto their hats and fur coats respectively. 

“I don’t know why we don’t do this more often!” The blonde with a brilliantly powdered face smiled through the cold, viciously happy to be surrounded by friends and free of the demands of her parents, however temporary it may have been. 

Her clothing was, perhaps, slightly too conservative to have someone call her a “flapper”, but was well within the style. She was fitted in a gorgeous black dress with golden accents and embroidery in a geometric pattern that shimmered in the streetlight. It covered her arms with sheer golden lace and came up to cover her collar bone. The signature sequin tassels swayed at the cut off just below her knees. Covering it was a beige fur coat that screamed wealth. 

Perhaps she was a bit sheltered, but it had yet to cause any issues. Well, besides the teasing from her friends that ranged from funny to rather ruthless at times. 

“You want me to answer that or ya wanna keep walking, Charlie?” The laugh that followed was loud enough to turn heads. 

The young man in question was visibly taller than most people, in general. He was roughly a head taller than his companions. White hairs artfully laced through his slicked back brown hair despite his obvious youth. His eyes were a warm brown, complementing the slightly tanned skin. 

“I know I don’t get out a lot, but things are changin’, Angel! Daddy’s been getting more clients downtown, so he doesn’t come home as much as he used to… Mama’s been really busy too but she’s also willing to give me some leeway…” The girl directed her beaming smile at him as she hurried along down the sidewalk, nearly running into a pole when she turned back around. 

“Careful! You don’t need a bump on the head to ruin your night! And, honestly, do we have to call you that Martin?” 

‘Angel’ gave her a sharp smile, looking every bit the shark that many had claimed him to be. Charlie was, of course, aware but chose to redirect the two of them to other topics. Even if it meant drawing attention back to herself. 

“I’m fine, Vaggie! You worry too much!” Charlie smiled down brightly at the dark haired woman who had pulled her away from what may have resulted in a very tedious evening. Vaggie had sun-kissed skin with dark eyes that looked nearly black in the low lighting. She had been her first (and at times her only) friend that her father had approved of. 

“Says the one who tried to slip in past the broads that you know you couldn’t have fit a quarter in between the three they were so close together.” Angel smiled even wider, before looking over to the side and waving at a group of people across the street.

Charlie’s smile dimmed to a more mute, yet still appropriately impish, grin before she tucked into Vaggie’s side. “It’s just - I’m so excited! Can you blame me?” 

The answer differed from the faces her two friends made at her. One entirely endearing while the other was more… over it, for lack of better words. Charlie frowned a bit, mostly for show. 

She tried to justify herself. “Lights, crowds of dancers, and all the latest music.” She popped up, almost twirling in place. “It’s just so glamorous, and Daddy has been home for days now, and you know how he is,” she drawled, smirking almost innocently up at the tall “Angel”.  

When “Lucifer” (as many of his business partners had taken to calling him) was home, he preferred older tunes that practically put Charlie to sleep. She could barely find moments where she could put in her records or turn on the radio to listen in without her Daddy hollering for her to turn that trash off. 

Charlie’s father was a charming and charismatic man, when he wanted to be. He treated his daughter as if she was the most precious object in the entire universe. The amount of photos stuffed in nearly ten photo albums from ages zero to three showed the dedication he had towards his little girl. 

And perhaps that was the reason it had become a problem, especially as of lately. The only good thing that came out of the attention these days was that it extended the time she spent in the house and not out finding a husband. Even now, he was hesitant about giving her away and having her no longer in his sights (perhaps that was why he was looking so meticulously, to find someone that may easily fit under his thumb). 

“If you ask me, your pops has got a few screws loose up in his noggin. I mean, come on, you’re twenty-one! Practically an old maid, and he hasn’t even let you go out on a date!��� He laughed, hand casually hooking her away from Vaggie and into his side, squashing her into his fashionably striped suit. 

They were nearing the club, the music growing audibly louder from the sidewalk. 

“I’ve been on dates before!” 

“Honey, being chaperoned by Daddy dearest who makes it a point to play with the steak knife ain’t exactly what I would call a date.” He flipped his hair up, tilting his head down so Charlie could see the near mocking grin painted across his features. 

“Lay off her, Angel. I don’t see anyone coming to ask to date you.” Vaggie put a protective hand on Charlie’s shoulder and practically yanked her away from him. 

“Aw come on; don’t be such a tart, I didn’t mean any harm by it! I’m just saying that’s it’s not natural. She should be goin’ out! Having the time of her life! Not sitting home all day doin’ whatever her ‘daddy’ wants her doin’,” he made a derisive hand motion, rolling his eyes.

A sly grin took over and Charlie knew exactly what he was going to say. 

“If you’d just let me introduce you to some of my friends - “ 

“You mean some of your family, Matra - “ 

“Shhush!” He nearly jumped over them to cover both of their mouths, regardless of the fact that Charlie wasn’t even saying anything to begin with. It drew a few lingering eyes to their party. “You want me to get ganked? You can’t say that type of shit in these parts.” 

Vaggie didn’t look particularly apologetic and simply shrugged him off, opting to pull Charlie along with her. She gave him a smug look as they stepped up to doors that barely seemed to contain the music inside. 

“‘K, but seriously toots. I got a cousin that goes by Arlo. He’s a bit of a sap, but he’d treat you right.” 

“None of you would get Daddy’s money if he didn’t approve, and I’m not so sure he’d be happy getting involved with your family.” 

New Orleans wasn’t as bad as, say, Chicago or New York when it came to gang or mafioso violence, but it wasn’t the cleanest either. A politician had been mysteriously “removed” when he’d attempted to go after one of the organized crime rings. 

Angel pouted at that, “Come on, you’ve known me for ages! You think I’d set you up just for the money?” 

They both looked at him with the most unimpressed face they could individually pull. Charlie was the first to let up and laughed as she waited for the entryway to clear. 

A man smoking against the wall gave Charlie a second glance, confused but with a look of vague recognition crossing his features. He opened his mouth, likely to ask if they’d met before, only to be cut off by the tall mafioso whose eyes felt like daggers going into his skin. 

The man quickly turned away and Angel seemed to do a one-eighty, once again smiling at his friends as they were finally able to push open the doors. 

“Welcome to the Lodge! It’s been open for a few years but they added a few ah features that made it more popular over the last couple months.” 

Charlie’s eyes seemed to glimmer as she took in the large space, absentmindedly taking off her coat and hanging it to the side. The Lodge was absolutely luxurious, from the wallpaper to the nearly reflective wood flooring. The band was booming, but not loud enough to drown out the laughter and chatter that was a testament to the hall’s popularity.  

“Oh my - “ Charlie was practically hopping in place, excitement practically vibrating off of her. 

“Hey! Careful, lets not get separated, okay?” Vaggie, being the voice of reason and caution, was quick to hook elbows with Charlie, the only thing that had kept the girl from shooting off into the crowd. 

“Aw, come on, there’s a ton of people here! Not to mention the bulls in literally every corner.” Angel discreetly let his eyes wander around the room as he leaned against a pillar. 

If anyone were to pay close attention, they would notice the men in unremarkable suits lingering near the bar and every little hideyhole you could think of. It made Charlie shift, unsure of how to feel about the knowledge and and slightly concerned. If any of them were in her father’s pockets she was so dead. She ducked her head at the thought, almost attempting to hide via Vaggie despite their height difference. 

“Speaking of the ‘bulls’, should we be concerned,” Vaggie questioned. “I’d rather not get arrested or hauled away in a cab tonight.” 

“Don’t worry about it! They’re the reason the club gets to keep their juice.” Angel was quick to get distracted by a handsome fellow on the other side of the club. “I hate to cut this gaggle short, but I got some tail to catch, if you get my drift. See ya ladies later!” And with that he was off in the other direction. 

Vaggie was thoroughly unimpressed and neither of them looked surprised. Charlie couldn’t help but shake her head. It was a common trick he pulled after they’d all been to a few places; always looking for a guy to end the night with. Charlie admired his boldness; however, couldn’t imagine herself dating so many men, much less having sex with them. 

And it wasn’t like she was there for any of that nonsense to begin with. She was there to dance.

“Come on, Vaggie!” 

The look of sheer panic on her friends face was telling, but it didn’t stop Charlie from dragging her to the packed dance floor. Charlie knew that her dancing was a bit intense for her friend’s (most people, really) liking, which is why she usually ended up dancing solo, but it didn’t mean that she couldn’t make them try for a while before they wore out. 

Charlie tapped her slight heels to the dance floor, tuning into the beat and began shimmying sideways until her hip bumped Vaggie’s. Her glittering smile almost effortlessly brought her friend out of the doom and gloom the thought of dancing with Charlie had put Vaggie in. There was some exasperation, but it was mostly fond. Charlie would take what she got.  

Giggling, she did a small spin. Her feet followed the basic steps of the Charleston to warm up, surprisingly considerate of her reluctant dance partner. Charlie gave Vaggie a mischievous smile that Vaggie had come to know as the turning of the tide against her favor. 

Heart pounding already as Charlie began to speed up, smiling so wide that her face was beginning to hurt: one foot to the side, back and forward. The music seemed louder like this, as if it had drowned out everything else: from the slight static of the stereo someone seemed to be playing in the background to the dancers who seemed to have begun to back away. 

So engrossed in her own movements, she didn’t notice when Vaggie tapped out, unwilling to try and compete with her. And even had she been paying attention, she wouldn’t have noticed that she had caught someone’s eye in a unique way. 

A man, who had taken the invitation for a night on the town by a fellow colleague and had been regretting it deeply, was watching her with the hungriest gaze anyone on that side of New Orleans had ever seen. A tall man with slicked back dark brown hair in a fairly tailored pinstripe suit with a burgundy tie to match similarly colored dress pants. His eyes looked nearly red in a certain light, pulling the look together flawlessly. 

A few years ago, no one would have noticed him, but these days he was too public for at least a few people to recognize the voice of the Alistair Trahan. 

He watched as she pulled up her dress every now and then to perform a kick or jump. His grin grew in glee as she practically leaped across the dance floor, feigning falling a few times only to skip and tap away unscathed. The grace in her movements was uncanny. 

She teetered in between stages of nearly falling and stability so often, he wondered how she hadn’t become dizzy from the whiplash. Perhaps it was the danger that bid her to prefer the dance style (or maybe she just enjoyed it). 

Her energy was something he had rarely seen before. What made it even more energizing was how she never stopped smiling no matter how her dress clung from the sweat that must have been pouring off her in waves or how those heels must have been a pain to dance in. 

She caught his gaze for a split second and those eyes. Dark and piercing as they were compared to his own dreadful gaze. He imagined what it would be like to have those eyes on him and only him. 

He raised a hand to his face, surprising himself when he noticed how flushed he was. He was brought back to reality when he noticed that the band had stopped playing. She was practically glowing as she panted, looking victorious in her stance (and a part of him imagined it as a form of armor, and he wondered what she would look like bound in steel). 

It would be a pleasure to pull apart that cheerful manner and see what was underneath it; see if she was just as golden inside as she was out. 

His mood dimmed slightly (though his smile didn’t show it) when he noticed that another woman had tucked herself into the personified sunshine’s side. 

It seemed there were obstacles that needed to be removed.

[elopez7228]

Scenic Route 14/47

Read on AO3 : https://archiveofourown.org/works/18268208/chapters/43229774  

Start over : https://elopez7228.tumblr.com/post/620919089893933056/scenic-route-0147

***

After giving BB8 more to drink in the parking lot, Rey met up with Ben to watch 4th of July fireworks with the band. There would definitely be a show in central town and Rey would rather sit with the party crowd than sip her beer all alone.

She headed towards the ski lifts, very much hoping that they could transport her and BB to the very top of the mountain.

Alas, they had a strict policy against dogs.  She found herself relegated to the valley below. She was wearing her trainers and her backpack, the latter of which contained her hotel purchases: a water, a muffin, a banana, and a packet of beef jerky.

She looked around to make sure the blonde woman was nowhere to be found. Did she stop following or was she just getting better at being discrete?

She scratched BB’s head pensively, even as worry coiled in her stomach. And so she was fretting again—when she could be taking advantage of the day in front of her. After a quick google search, she decided to take a trek in the surrounding area. A walk could really do her some good.

The vast landscape looked nothing like the English countryside. Instead, mountain plants grew underfoot: traup flowers, pines, sage, heather, lichens and thorn bush. The air was buzzing with the sound of insects. Rey unclipped BB’s leash so the dog make her ascent freely.

Suddenly, she felt alone in her chagrin. It would have been nice to share the sights and sounds, the serenity of the moment with someone else. Where was Finn? What was he up to in that instant—after having ruined all her plans? She felt like she had spent an entire lifetime in London. One that blurred into the distance with her departure. She still thought about him every day, but doing so had become far less painful, less consuming. Her memories were instead soft and hazy, like she was looking back at him through a pair of rose-colored glasses. They had separated only two weeks ago and yet she found she did not miss him as much as she thought she would.

She felt utterly liberated, free to make her own choices and follow her own desires. She had been in a relationship for so long that she had forgotten what it felt like not to be beholden to someone else. To make decisions alone and selfishly, without having to compromise for anyone. And sure, having someone in her life had been reassuring—but it had also been stifling.

And besides, he had never really liked hiking, Finn was the kind of man who stayed within city limits. Their time together had consisted of television marathons, sushi takeaway, cinema outings, and concerts. Sometimes Finn would play football with his closest friends, especially Poe. Bloody hell—she should have seen Poe coming!

No, it was obvious now that Finn would never truly appreciate the value of a moment of peace and solitude in the mountains. She would rather share this moment with...

Ben.

Wait. That was ridiculous. They had only really known each other for a couple of days. Never mind that she had made a terrible first impression on him, and that was putting it nicely.

Why then did her mind imagine him there, alone at the top of the world with her? He always emanated a sort of melancholy. Why was his gaze so sad? Rey wondered how much of his cocky rockstar was just for show. Was music really his bread and butter? There was no way he could afford to drive a massive pickup like that after only three self-released CDs. So where did the money come from? Where did he—and his knights—really work?

It was useless to occupy her thoughts needlessly; she would have the chance to ask them about it tonight. If she played her cards right and asked discretely, that is.

Sitting on the river bank, she ate her last-minute picnic, turning to throw a few pieces of beef jerky in BB8’s direction.

BB8?

Where was that girl?

Rey got to her feet and places her hands around her mouth to amplify her voice.

“Bee Bee!”

Well, this was probably why they had put up that “dogs must remain on leash at all times” sign at the trail entrance. They were probably trying to save the squirrels from puppy wrath.

Chipmunks, whispered the voice in her head. Rey seethed mentally. Now was not the time to squabble over vocabulary!

The rustling of leaves a little further up the path got her attention. She recalled that BB8 liked to dig hiding places for her sticks. As Rey approached, a little striped rodent launched belly-down through the forest, zigzagging around rocks and roots as it flew into a thorny bush and found purchase on low hanging branches. BB8, previously disinterested, jumped up to chase the animal with a surprising amount of vigor. Before Rey could grab her, the dog disappeared into the bushes, like a greyhound chasing a lure.

Rey sighed a few choice words. Deciding not to waste time, she shoved the leash into her pocket and went in search of her dog.

And that’s how she found herself in a bloody sumac bush that left prickling imprints on her calves that caused agony with every step. The thorn bushes here were just as unforgiving as the ones in

England.

“I swear when I get ahold of that dog again I’m going to have an absolute fit,” she grumbled in between panting breaths. Her legs were on fire but the sound of BB8’s groaning wasn’t far off. She let it guide her toward a pile of withering branches. She found the little dog perched on her hind paws, barking at the trunk of a cedar tree that she had been leaning on.

Rey slipped the leash back onto BB’s collar and tugged a little harder than she probably should have. The dog yelped in protest. Feeling guilty, Rey leaned down to pet her.

“C’mon girl, let’s go.”

She retraced her steps, finally finding the place where she had stashed her knapsack. A large silhouette appeared to be rifling through her things. It looked rather large, and it turned to grunt at her like a bull.

Rey cried out. There, in the middle of the forest, stood a decent-sized bear. It was currently in the process of emptying out her bag, having eaten half of the banana and chewed up the muffin wrapper to sugary bits.

BB8 rose up and growled, baring her teeth. “Gently, steady now...” Rey whispered, backing away slowly.

She didn’t know anything about bears. Couldn’t it kill her and climb back up into the trees? But she had to get her knapsack back—it contained her phone and her travel papers—if the bear hadn’t already crushed them under its massive paws. She contemplated confronting the bear with the business end of a...stick? No, ridiculous. She could just imagine her equally ridiculous tombstone: Here lies Rey Jakku, who thought she could defeat a bear with her bare hands. Discouraged, Rey opted for patience. Surely the bear would eventually leave.

She took care to leave as much distance between herself and the beast, not realizing when BB8’s leash suddenly slipped from her grasp.

“BB8, NO!”

But the dog ignored her, descending on the bear at full height, teeth bared and frothing at the mouth.

The bear never saw her coming, too engrossed in sniffing out the food from the  open bag. It turned around brusquely, getting up on its hind legs and letting out a roar that left Rey’s whole body shaking.  BB8 retreated a few paces,  though still maintaining a defensive stance.  She certainly made up for her minuscule size with tenacity.

A nightmare scenario flashed inside Rey’s mind: The bear would kill her dog, and then finish her off.

Here lies Rey Jakku, mauled by a bear on her honeymoon. She was a rebel until the very end.

Or even if she survived, how was she to tell the Skywalkers—wherever they were—that she had left their little doggie at the mercy of a raging bear.

Here lies Rey Jakku, strangled to death by a woman who loved her orange dog above all else.

Without second thought, she began waving her arms around to distract the bear.

“Hey! Baloo! Over here!”

With the help of a stick she found on the ground,  Rey banged on the trunk of nearby tree, still shouting at the top of her lungs. The bear turned towards her, snarling and roaring anew.

Rey felt her knees wobble.

Here lies Rey Jakku, devoured by a bear at age 26. Her life was shitty.

The bear then proceeded to swipe a massive paw at BB8, which she easily dodged. She snapped her jaws in response. Finally, the beast got onto all four paws once more and charged suddenly.

She was going to die. Without having told Finn that she forgave him. Without having told her mother she loved her. Without having the chance to slide her fingers through Ben Solo’s mesmerizing hair.

It was insanely stupid.

All of a sudden, a sharp click pierced the air, echoing off the mountain. A projectile whistled past, lodging in the trunk of the tree next to her. She didn’t immediately realize the situation. The bear stopped, jerking its head.

Rey stood paralyzed, comprehending the scene at a glance. There had been a shot fired in the woods. The animal’s ear was bleeding. The moment took forever to pass. Someone was shooting at her.

It was just too much for her, and she fell to her knees with her hands on her head. The bear, the shooter, the sound of fire, it was all too much to process.

The bear, to its credit, turned around to roar again. BB8 kept barking even as she began to run out of breath, as though she could chase the beast away with sheer perseverance. Another bullet whistled past. Rey curled up on the ground, a strangled noise escaping her. The bear growled once more and then, with agility belying its hulking frame, skittered off into the woods.

Rey hesitated, still lying in fetal position against the soil. Her entire body trembled. She looked up when she felt the warmth of BB’s tongue against her hands and face. It was then that she managed to catch her breath and clamber to her feet.

She gazed at the horizon, searching for traces of the bear, or the shooter. Everything was calm again. The birds that had scattered with the opening shot had once again returned to their branches.

Losing her adrenaline and her ability to stand, Rey crouched on the ground once more, eventually falling onto her back. Tears of relief flowed down her cheeks. She wiped them away with the back of her trembling hand. She reached out and hugged BB8 tightly against her chest.

“Bravo, girl. Good dog—what a good dog, you’re not afraid of anything, are you?”

A voice inside her head whispered that it was ride or die with this dog. And the invisible shooter? Rey owed whoever that was a massive debt of gratitude.

Once the pounding of her heart had died down, she shouldered the remnants of her   bag and took out her Swiss knife. She used the blade to carefully carve out the bullet lodged in the trunk of the fir. The projectile was buried so deeply in the wood that she had trouble dislodging it.  When she finally managed to retrieve the gnarled piece of metal, she was overtaken by a violent burst of emotion. Someone had literally saved her life. She would have  here, thousands of miles from home— and yet she was alive and unscathed. She held the bullet in her fist before slipping it into her pocket. And then she began the lone journey back up the trail.

Fifty feet away, Syed stood on a rocky outcrop overlooking the valley. She put away her gun, still warm to touch. His orders echoed through her mind.

Follow the girl wherever she goes. If anything happens to her, I’ll hold you personally responsible.

She hadn’t thought it would be so complicated. This Rey had a supernatural ability it seemed, she was a magnet for all kinds of trouble. Keeping her in one piece was not going to be easy.

It was almost three in the afternoon by the time Rey made it back to the city, exhausted and covered in scrapes and scratches. Fortunately, her car was still there and the blonde woman was nowhere to be found. She still checked to make sure that no one had slashed her tires or broken a window or stolen so much as the air freshener. No, it seemed the Falcon was a dingy yet invincible as ever. And that was the first good news she’d had all day.

It was still too early to join Kylo and the knights in the marketplace so she decided to take a nap. She was still crashing from the adrenaline high and her limbs could barely move. Not to mention that she’d barely slept last night, tormented by the looming presence of the blonde and the abrupt absence of Leia Skywalker. She had the feeling tonight was going to be an equally long night. Time to recuperate while she could.

She moved the car under the shade of a few trees at the very edge of the hotel parking, rolled down the windows, and let BB8 inside before blowing up her air mattress in the trunk. Just like last night. It was warm outside on that sunny summer afternoon, but a fresh breeze brushed against her skin through the open windows. And so she let go. But she wasn’t able to find sleep just yet. Something tugged at her mind, deep in her subconscious.

She had almost died today. Death had flashed before her eyes, and she’d thought it was over. And in those final, terrifying moments, she had thought about three people.

Finn.

Her mother.

And Ben Solo.

[robinskalechip]

ultimately - chapter one

masterlist

robin buckley fan fic

a/n: so hii guys here is the new fic ive been working on. i know some people wanted sofia to be the character again but sadly it is not but there are some similarities and plenty of little nods to her and that fic. i hope y’all enjoy :)

warnings: smoking, language

not my gif!

chapter one - you’re new

robin was finally able to take a breath after the events of the summer when she entered her beloved band hall that always made her feel at peace. it was only the first day but she had already claimed her uniform and locker thanks to the director adoring her to pieces.

the high school senior looked over her schedule for one last time

band

advanced chemistry

advanced physics

advanced english literature

advanced calculus

advanced european history

robin had a full schedule this year with her studies and band and work and the kids she gets to play the cool lesbian aunt to

throughout the class period, she focused on making sure her section was in line as she was made a section leader last year because like previously mentioned, the director adored her

in advanced chemistry she was met with a safety demonstration and an overview of the course

advanced physics had the same safety demonstration as chemistry and then came lunch

robin always liked sitting outside during lunch, even when it was cold out. she found her favorite tree to sit under and took out the book she was currently reading, the price of salt

her friends always offered her a seat during lunch but after a while they gave up and let her be

this was her favorite parts of the day

she felt so at ease and calm

like everyone and everything around her was suddenly put on pause for the time being

after her thirty minutes of peace, she headed to english where she found a spot in the back of the class. near her there were a group of guys talking about some new girl.

robin could hear them extremely clearly as she gathered her things from her bag, ��her dad is lorenzo moretti”

every other boy in that group seemed so confused yet intrigued “who’s that?”

“he’s that super big business dude that everyone thinks killed his business partner god don’t any of you watch the news or read a book”

robin laughed to herself at his distaste towards his friends

“she’s also like” he leaned closer towards them “mega hot im telling you i couldn’t breathe in calculus for like twenty minutes”

one of the boys laughed at him “like you’d even get the balls to go for it”

he protested as he hit his friend on the shoulder “i would go for it” he adjusted his varsity jacket “i’m just waiting for the right time”

his other friend who was facing the door suddenly became brighter as he motioned towards the door “now is your chance chase..twelve o clock”

robin directed her attention to the door where she saw a girl walk in

she had on a pair of light blue and white striped pants that seemed a bit snug which robin definitely took notice to, a white tee shirt and the perfect amount of jewelry that went well with her short hair style that ended just before her shoulders

the girl briefly examined the room before being approached by the teacher to which she offered her a warm smile and shook her hand

that smile quickly fell when she was approached by chase who was rather enthusiastic but also painfully nervous

the girl’s eyes quickly fell to her left to meet robin’s piercing blue eyes to which she gave a gentle smile before forcing her eyes back to the boy in front of her

“sO i was wondering if maybe..uh..you wanted to go out this weekend? i heard they’re playing this really good movie at the drive in and i-“

he was cut off when the girl started to speak “chase”

“what”

“you’re not my type”

he started to laugh to himself “then what is your type?”

she redirected her eyes back to robin briefly before answering the question

“uhh good taste in books, freckles, and a lot less preppy” she patted his chest in ironic reassurance as she took the seat next to robin “are all the guys like that here?”

“there isn’t a single dude in hawkins that isn’t a total dingus” she smiled at the girl before offering her hand “im robin, you’re new right?”

“yeah, i’m emily” she took her hand and held eye contact as she shook it, making robin nervous but in a good way

once the bell rung the teacher went through the basics of the course and everything they would be reading that semester, robin taking notice when emily could smile at a certain book name

once the class ended, robin began packing up her things as emily started to make her way to the door. robin eyed her carefully as she made her way, nearly having a heart attack when she turned around briefly and made eye contact with robin, producing a soft smile

robin spent her entire calculus class thinking about the girl she had just met, analyzing the body language she had picked up and thinking of every possibility as to why she moved to hawkins

her last class of the day was european history and then she would be with steve at the video store, laughing at his antics of the day

as robin entered the class she could see the face she had been thinking about in the corner of the room, looking through the textbook that robin was now accepting from the teacher

she looked around the classroom for an open spot and the only available spots were one by derek sanders which was immediately ruled out, one in the front of the class by the teacher’s desk, and one by emily. robin felt a bit nervous because the desks were the long ones that had two people a table and she wasn’t sure if she would even be able to breathe while being that close to her

as robin began to walk towards the seat and place her things down, emily looked up before looking back down at her textbook with a smile “hey freckles”

robin tried to surpress her smile, failing to do so “hey”

before robin could spark up a conversation the teacher closed the door and asked everyone to get seated

the entirety of the class consisted of her talking about everything they would cover and got off topic at least twenty times, which kind of bugged robin but she was only focused on the girl sitting next to her. she was focused on the way she leaned her head on her hand and the way she fiddled around with her rings with one hand and how she would laugh whenever the teacher would talk about some odd thing her husband or cat did

she mentioned a class trip to a museum in indianapolis which robin, at first thought, dreaded until she thought about going with emily. she didn’t know why the girl intreged her so much but she wanted to know who the girl everyone was talking about was.

the class went by quickly as robin was drowning in her thoughts

the bell rang and everyone rushed out the door as it was finally the end of the day. robin and emily collected their things and made their way to the door, emily allowing robin to go first

once they went down the hall and exited the two main doors of the school, emily reached into her pocket and pulled out a pack of cigarettes, taking one out with her teeth and lighting it a second after retrieving her lighter

“so what do you think of hawkins?”

robin was curious but also trying to make conversation as she walked towards the bike rack

“its a lot different than from where i’m from”

“how”

“the entirety of the atmosphere is different in every aspect. like the vibe is just so different and i can’t tell if i like it or not..”

robin laughed “and where exactly did you come from?”

emily laughed as she took her cigarette from her mouth and started to walk backwards away from robin who was now unlocking her bike “can’t give too much away so soon, later freckles”

robin and the girl laughed while they kept eye contact and the girl flinged her cigarette to the ground and turned around to then enter her car and quickly starting it

robin watched as she began to drive off with her windows down and a song could be heard that robin identified as the cure

before the girl sped off the stopped in front of robin and told her to get closer

robin leaned into the car as the girl spoke “don’t you like me being the mystery girl?”

she smiled as she put her car in drive and robin backed away to avoid getting run over as the girl sped out of the school parking lot

robin could only think of that name for the rest of the day, emily

next chapter

[axelsagewrites]

Dad!Magnus Bane*Daddy

Requested by anonymous:

Can you do a Magnus x child!Reader and it's the first time they call him 'Daddy' and he just melts?

Readers age is 8 also this contains slight Malec.

Also theirs pic’s of roughly what the parties based off of.

Masterlist HERE

Wattpad HERE

Prompt List HERE

Magnus Bane’s life was lavish and carefree…until he adopted (Y/N). It's not that he didn’t love them, he does with his whole heart, but adopting a young warlock who doesn’t understand the shadow world and went through a traumatic past is hard. He had adopted (Y/N) almost a year ago so to celebrate they were having a small party. Ever since (Y/N) was adopted they always called Magnus, Magnus. They actually used to call him Mr Bane but that didn’t stick. Magnus didn’t mind being called that, in fact, he hardly thought about it. He didn’t want to pressure (Y/N) into calling him ‘Dad’ or ‘Daddy’. At first, he actually dreaded the idea of (Y/N) calling him Daddy. Some downworlders who knew Magnus when he first adopted (Y/N) would joke and mock him by calling him, Daddy. He didn’t like the idea of being called Daddy because of these jokes. He thought he would have all respect taken from him in the eyes of clients and downworlders alike. Magnus had gotten (Y/N) to have a sleepover with auntie Tessa so he could set up the party. When he woke he got straight to work knowing they’d be back at noon. Magnus thought back to the first night (Y/N) spent in his flat. They were scared understandable and to calm your nerves he put on some movies. Who doesn’t like movies? It was his first happy memory with (Y/N) and kind of a tradition to have a movie marathon once a week. Because of this memory, Magnus knew how to decorate the party. He set up the living room to look like an award ceremony and the entrance to a theatre which was actually a guest room he had set up. There was a red rug going from the door to a part of the wall he had decorated with velvet curtains and a black background where you would take pictures as if you were attending an award ceremony. The main part of the living room was left kind of the same but not. He had moved the couches back a bit to allow for a bit more space and hate hung some fairy lights and some black and gold stars. There was already a disco ball for a light, (A/N:I mean it is Magnus’s flat) so that was no issue. The closer you got to the guest room where the movie was set up there was a popcorn machine and refreshment tables. The tables had red and white striped tablecloths on them. The refreshments consisted of 4 types of popcorn (Sweet, Salty, Plain and Chocolate) and normal movie food like sweets and hotdogs. He had also gotten a bartender to serve drinks at the bar which he had also decorated in red and white strips.

(Also theirs pic’s of roughly what the parties based off of.)

Once inside the guest room you would see what he hoped to be (Y/N)’s favourite part. The movie. There was a queen bed that he had put black and gold sheets on. On the wall across from the bed was the TV. He had spread some bean bags, blankets and pillows around the room for the rest of the guests who didn’t get into the VIP section aka the bed. He had hung blackout curtains in front of the windows and the room had a dimmer switch. The TV was set up so (Y/N) could play their favourite movies.

Magnus had invited a decent amount of guests. Since there was not many downworlders around (Y/N)’s age most were older which honestly didn’t matter as they all loved (Y/N). Some of the guest’s included: Raphael (who surprisingly is really good with kids), Tessa, Jem, Maia (Your babysitter during the day because of Raph’s vampirism), his boyfriend Alec, Jace, Clary, Izzy and some other downworlders he knew and kind of you. When he was making up the guest list he realised something; most of (Y/N)’s company is a lot older. It made sense in a way. Not many children were turned to vamps or werewolves and warlocks were less common than ever before. Sure there were young shadowhunters but they didn’t want to associate with downworlders. It was part of the reason Alec had suggested bring Max because they were close in age as he was 11 and (Y/N) was 8. Magnus didn’t have time to think of that though as guests started arriving. By half 11 nearly everyone was there. “Wow Mags. This is amazing.” Alec complemented when he saw his warlock boyfriend. They had only been going out for a couple months but Magnus appearance still took his breath away. He had told everyone the theme and to ‘dress appropriately’. He was in black slacks, a black glittery shirt, a red bow tie and of course gold accessories and his signature spiky sparkly hair with red highlights.  Most people did fit the dress code in Magnus’s opinion. Most of the girls wore dresses and skirts while some, like Maia, opted for a nice top and skinny jeans. You could tell who would be up for what awards if it was real. In Magnus’s opinion, Alec would be the front-runner for best dressed in his blue shirt and black slacks that looked perfect on him and that Izzy had clearly picked as there were no holes in his shirt. Izzy would be up for most dangerous in her tight black glitter dress. Raphael would be up for best suit in his velvet red suit jacket, black trousers and shirt. It was quite amusing to him as the party favours were awards and he thought they matched well. The bartender was behind the bar and Magnus was pretty sure everyone was there apart from (Y/N), Tessa and Jem but that was intentional. Tessa texted Magnus saying they were coming up the stairs so Magnus told everyone to hide. The lights were off and everyone was in position when (Y/N) opened the door. “Surprise!” “Oh my goodness! This is awesome!” (Y/N) squealed. “Glad you like it,” (Y/N) turned to Magnus. “I figured we should celebrate a full year of having you here.” “Magnus,” (Y/N) said with a pointed look. “you just wanted to have another party, didn’t you?” Magnus sent a wink their way and (Y/N) broke into a smile. “Well, I’m glad you did.” After a quick glance around the room (Y/N) noticed something. “I'm not dressed right.” They whined which earned a chuckle. “And neither are auntie Tess and uncle Jem.” “Definitely Magnus’s kid,” Jace whispered to Alec while laughing. “Don’t worry about us,” Jem started. “we brought our clothes in aunt Tess’s bag.” “What about me?” (Y/N) turned to their aunt. “It's your house, isn’t it? Go find something.” Tessa prompted which sent (Y/N) running to their room. People laughed and said how Magnus had rubbed off on the child. Tessa and Jem went to get changed in the bathroom while Magnus finally opened the bar.

The party went down well with all the guest and most importantly (Y/N). Max and (Y/N) got on surprisingly well and were running around the apartment after they got their hands on some cake.

After about an hour and a half in the living room, they went into the guest room which was definitely (Y/N)’s favourite part. Magnus got (Y/N) to go in first to see and they loved it. (Y/N) got to pick who went on the bed which ended up being themselves, Max, Magnus, Jem and Tessa. (Y/N) took a few minutes to decide though. Everyone else claimed a bean bag or spot on the floor with pillows and blankets. Magnus sat on the bed with his back against the headboard and legs stretched out under the covers on one half of the bed. Tessa and Jem sat next to each other on the other half and Max lay on his stomach with his legs going in between Tessa and Magnus, which was sort of a halfway line of the bed, while (Y/N) picked the movie and pressed play. Once the movie began (Y/N) carefully walked from one side of the room to the bed, making sure not to crush anyone or their snacks. Once they got to the side of the bed were Magnus sat they pulled back the covers and climbed in. (Y/N) put Magnus’s arm around their shoulder and snuggled into him. Magnus grinned down at the site of his child nuzzling into him. He gave (Y/N) a squeeze with his arm and they smiled up at him. “Thanks, daddy. This is the best party ever.” (Y/N) said kind of quietly although close by guest’s heard and smiled at their adorableness. Magnus’s heart melted when (Y/N) said that. Never before had he been called dad or daddy. He never thought he’d want to be called that but hearing (Y/N) say it as if it was the most natural thing in the world was amazing. “It's not problem sweetpea.” “Can we do this every year?” “Whatever you want.” Magnus smiled down at his child while they turned their attention back to the movie. After the movie (Y/N) got up to change it and when they got back sat on Magnus’s lap which he was more than happy to allow. He wrapped his arms around them, hugging them while they leaned back into his chest. Some people left after the first movie so they went from 15 to 10. It was mainly Magnus’s friends aka (Y/N) aunts and uncles. After the second movie ended a third was put on and this time they lost even more people. Raphael, Lillian (a vamp (Y/N) befriended while at the Dumort {Also the one from the books if you’ve read them}), Maia, Clary and Jace. Raphael and Lillian had gotten Magnus to make a portal to get there and back home because of the sun. Maia had to go and study and Clary and Jace had dinner reservations. When (Y/N) put on the next movie they sat on the bean bags near the front and Max joined them. At some point during the third movie, Max and (Y/N) fell asleep. No one noticed until after the movie finished. Izzy decided to take Max back to the institute since Alec was going to sleep over. Magnus offered to make a portal for her and Max then one for Tessa and Jem. They accepted and by half 9 everyone was gone. It was a good day although some people had been there for 9 hours. (Y/N) was carried to bed by Magnus who hadn’t stopped smiling since (Y/N) called him daddy. They had called him dad during the movies sometimes and he loved it. Alec noticed so when Magnus got into the living room after putting (Y/N) to bed he brought it up. “So, is (Y/N) going to call you dad from now on?” “Alexander you needn’t clean this mess,” Magnus snapped his fingers and cleaned the food away but left most of the décor up. “and I hope so. I'm actually kind of hoping for daddy. It just makes my heart melt.” Alec nodded and stayed silent for a moment but he couldn’t hold back. He’d known Jace too long. “So is (Y/N) the only one who can call you daddy?” “Oh shut up!” Magnus made a pillow fly into Alec’s face which he swatted away with a mischevious grin. “Just asking.” Magnus sighed. “I never thought I would have this. I would have a child who I loved and a man I truly love. It's more magical than I thought possible.” The pair didn’t even hear the footsteps of (Y/N) as they walked sleepily down the hallway. “Why are you two still up?” (Y/N) rubbed their eyes. “We were just talking darling. Go back to bed.” Magnus stoked (Y/N)’s hair while he said it. “Ok,”  they muttered sleepily and began to go back down the hallway. Alec walked over to Magnus and hugged him from behind. “Night daddy,” (Y/N) said when they were just in earshot. “Night other daddy.” Alec froze and Magnus held back a laugh as (Y/N) continued down the hall to their room. “Don’t even Magnus,” Alec warned. “Daddy,” Magnus whispered before bursting out laughing. “Be quiet. (Y/N)'s going to bed!” Alec warned even though his cheeks were red. “I can't wait till I tell Jace,” Magnus said while sitting on the couch. Alec groaned then sighed gently. “At least they like me I guess.” He mumbled with a slight smile. “It's not too bad to be called other daddy. Well, when it's from (Y/N).” Magnus hummed in agreement. It melted his heart, he had his perfect family and he now considered himself a proper ‘dad’.

The pictures I mentioned (not mine, obviously. I wish tbh):

[hoseokhearts-blog]

Bad for Me (Min Yoongi x Reader) Part Four

4] restless- infatuation 

A/N: You'll understand this picture later on in the chapter. I thought you guys might want a visual of the description!

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You and Yoongi began to fall into a rhyme and rhythm.

It'd been about 6 weeks since he first start working at Youth & Impulse, and the two of you had a rather consistent routine that was followed every single Tuesday and Thursday at work. Yoongi would always arrive at 5:30, a half hour before he actually needed to be there. You would make him a latte as you'd been doing before, but you began trying out different designs on the top. He would rate your new designs from one to ten, and help you decide on which ones were good enough to sell to actual customers.

Then, Yoongi would play piano for the next 2 and half hours after that, and you would watch him from behind the counter. Stevens had gotten onto you several times for not paying enough of attention to the guests, but no matter how many warnings you got about it, you found it nearly impossible to keep your eyes off of Yoongi. His charm and classy look about him as he played the piano drew you in, and you literally never wanted to stop looking at him. Even as Stevens was snapping his fingers in front of your face, or as your eyes began burning and drooping from drowsiness, you didn't want to pull your eyes away.

Your infatuation with him only grew every time you saw him and every time you learned something new about him. He could tell you something as trivial as how much he liked oatmeal raisin cookies and you would still be thinking about it hours later. This was the first time a single person had so much influence over your everyday thoughts.

After the shop closed, Yoongi would stick around to help you and Stevens clean up. Sometimes he would walk you to your dorm, other times the two of you would grab at a late dinner at the 7-Eleven down the street, and rarely, you two simply parted ways at the end of your shifts. You hated the nights where he just left. You didn't like it when you didn't get to spend the extra time with him, as that time after work was when he seemed the most real, and the closest to you. Those nights where you spent time alone with him, no matter how small the amount of time was, left you wanting more and more.

The uncomfortable and awkward tension that the two of you had previously experienced was no completely gone on both ends. You were learning to trust him and to believe him wholeheartedly, even though you knew it was a dangerous game to allow yourself to fall for someone that fast. You couldn't find it within youreslf to be overly cautious; all you wanted was to be close to Yoongi.

All you wanted was him.

~YOONGI'S POV~

As he clutched the contest flyer in his hand, Yoongi realized that he was nervous to go into work. He had exciting news that he was desperate to share with You, but there was something that he had to come clean about first. What he needed to tell you wasn't exactly a big deal, or a big secret, but it still was a rather large part about his pending music career. Truthfully, he felt guilty for not revealing this part of himself to you sooner.

He could tell how invested you were becoming in him, and that simple fact always managed to make his heart beat faster. He didn't take your time or attention for granted as he could acknowledge that he'd never felt so close to someone in his life. For the first time in a very long time, Yoongi was truly beginning to feel...happy. And it was all because of you.

He took a deep breath as he turned the corner, approaching the front of the cafe at 5:30 as he usually did. He couldn't help but smile as he watched you perk up from behind the counter when he walked in. After hanging up his coat, he went over to you. He still felt slightly nervous, but upon seeing your face, excitment began to drown out the other negative emotions and worries that he had.

"Yoongi! What's up?" you exclaimed, and he grinned at your enthusiasm to see him. He nearly blurted out the words "You're cute", but bit his tongue, knowing that the comment would be a bit out of line.

"Y/N, I have good news," He teased you, his excitement now blatant.

"And?" he watched your face spread into a smile, waiting not-so-patiently for an answer.

"I've been accepted into a music competition, and recruiters from small talent agencies will be there," He grinned, cheeks turning red as you ran out from behind the counter. Out of nowhere, you were flinging your arms around him, exclaiming, "Yoongi, that's so great! I told you you'd get your chance eventually!"

Yoongi stiffened under your arms, not because he didn't like you being that close to him, but because he was surprised at how casually you embraced him. He felt guilty as you pulled away, seemingly taken notice of how he had practically just rejected your hug. He scratched the back of his head awkwardly as you mumbled out an apology.

"Oh no, no! You just caught me off guard," Yoongi stammered, cheeks heating up in embarrassment. "Anyway, about the competition," he changed the subject swiftly, desperately trying to recover from the uncomfortable moment, "There's something about my music I haven't exactly told you yet."

You raised an eyebrow at him.

"I'm not just a pianist," he began.

"Okay?"

"I'm a rapper," he said slowly, watching you carefully to gauge your reaction.

"Oh, really?" You sounded surprised, but your tone was full of curiosity, not judgement. "You always look so gentle and calm while you're playing music...I never would've pegged you as a rapper," You chuckled, and Yoongi was relieved.

"That's how I'll be competing in the contest...I'll be rapping, not playing the piano," he explained.

"I'm so happy that you're finally getting a real opportunity, Yoongi. You deserve it, honestly," you said sincerely to him, his heart becoming elated.

"So, does that mean you'll come then?" He asked hopefully, biting his lip. He wasn't quite sure when it first started, but somewhere along the way in his relationship with you, he had suddenly begun to care a great deal about what you thought about him. He wanted you there, not just to support him, but also because he wanted to share that moment with you. He wanted you to see him doing what he was most passionate about; performing his music for others. He wanted you to be impressed with him, and to feel proud of him.

He cared what you thought.

"Come where? The competition?" You asked, seemingly excited by the idea.

"Yeah, if you can. I would like it if you came," he replied shyly.

"Of course! I would love to come! When is it?"

"Tomorrow night. 9 o'clock."

"I'll be there for sure," you nodded, and Yoongi really couldn't control the huge smile that was on his face. He wanted to play it cool, but he just couldn't.

"I'll meet you here tomorrow night then? We can go together?" He offered.

"Sounds great."

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~YOUR POV~

Yoongi showed up at Youth & Impulse at 8:30 the next night, right at the end of your shift so the two of you could walk to his competition together. Given that the cafe was right in the middle of the city, most other things were in near proximity, making walking more convinient and cheaper than taking a taxi.

Yoongi walked in the door, gaining eyes from customers as he swiftly walked up to the counter to meet you. He looked different tonight; his hair was messier than ever, but it looked like it had been styled that way on purpose. He was wearing a black and white striped cut off T-Shirt and a black hoodie. But, the hoodie was only covering one shoulder, and slipping off of the other one, exposing his pale yet obviously toned arms. It took an incredible amount of conscience effort for you to remind yourself that it would be innapropriate to continue staring at his arm muscles, no matter how bad you didn't want to look away.

He was wearing hoop earrings, replacing the small black studs that he typically wore. He was wearing three different rings across his hands, with a chain bracelet and neclace to match. As he approached, you could tell he was even wearing makeup; it was faint, but black eyeliner allowed his eyes to pop. In that moment, Yoongi truly looked like a star. He looked like someone who was famous, someone who was rich, and someone who was important. Perhaps that's why his entrance into the cafe caused so many heads to turn, so many eyes to stare, and so many people to whisper.

"Y/N! You ready?" He asked through a gummy smile, fidgeting out of apparent excitement and nervousness. You felt shy as so many people's eyes were on you. You didn't like copious amounts of attention; you found it invasive and uncomfortable.

"I am!" You replied with enthusiasm, despite the fact you were uncomfortable with all of the intruding eyes. You slipped your apron off over your clothes, simply wearing a black sweater and skinny jeans as Yoongi informed you that the dress would be very casual.

"Stevens, Yoongi and I are heading out, okay?" You called out to Stevens who was busy making a caramel macchiato.

"Yeah, yeah. Go have fun! Good luck, Yoongi," Stevens said without even turning around, too busy drizzling caramel from a squeeze bottle onto the top of the drink.

"Thank you, Sir," Yoongi replied earnestly as you made your way out from behind the counter. "Alright, let's go then."

The two of you walked through the cafe to the front door, looking like a million dollar pairing. You blushed as you noticed people's heads continuing to turn to get a look at the two of you, while Yoongi seemed unphased by the attention, if he had even noticed it at all. You took note of fame would suit him well; you were happy he was the one that had the chance to become a star, and not you. You would never be able to handle all of the privacy intrusion, the demeaning eyes, the pressure. That kind of life wasn't something you wanted. However, Yoongi seemed perfectly cut out for it.

He was walking a bit faster along the sidewalks that night. You pegged it to be his nervous yet excited energy, and all of that energy began to rub off on you. You hadn't realized how excited you were to see Yoongi perform until the two were about a block way from the venue. There were cars parked bumper to bumper along the sides of the streets, making you realize how big of a deal this really was. Perhaps it appeared like some lame underground rap competition, but after seeing the amount of people that were going to be there, you began to think otherwise.

"You said that recruiters from talent agencies are going to be here tonight, right?" You spoke up, breaking the comfortable silence that you had been walking in.

"That's right," Yoongi breathed, his breath showing in the freezing cold air.

"So, this really is a huge opportunity isn't it?" You asked, even though you already knew the answer.

"It really is," he sighed, biting his lip as you looked over at him. He didn't look so excited anymore; he looked more nervous, and you couldn't blame him.

"Hey, listen. Try not to let the pressure get to you, okay? I'm sure you'll do great. And even if you don't, this won't be your last shot," you tried to reassure him, tried to bring him a bit of comfort even though you knew that no amount of words would remove the butterflies he was likely feeling in the pit of his stomach. You wanted to reach out and try to hold his hand, but after how weird he'd been about the hug yesterday, you decided against it.

"Thanks," he offered you a small smile as the two of you found yourself standing in front of the competition venue; an old warehouse. Through the open front doors, you could see the neon lights and the crowds of people that were already there.

Yoongi was at a standstill, taking in the crowd and the energy silently.

"Ready to go inside?" You asked quietly, glancing over at him.

"Yes," he said simply, catching your eye for a short moment, before moving forward, you right beside him.

|||||

Yoongi was the 8th person to perform, so throughout the first performances, he stood out in the crowd with you. While the people performing were Yoongi's competition, you could tell how much fun he was having while watching everyone rap. You spent a lot of time looking at him, how his facial expression was influenced by different lyrics and different emotions from the various rappers. You watched him have fun through the flashing of the neon lights and in the midst of several other sweaty bodies in the crowd. You were pressed against Yoongi's side due to the mass amounts of people that were cramped into the small space, but you didn't feel uncomfortable being beside him like that.

When his name was called out, he grabbed your hand quickly, meeting your eyes for a short second and offering one of those knee-weakening smiles, before leaving your side and running up to the stage.

The only way you could describe his performance was by using the word "flawless." He didn't skip a single beat, each word comfortably rolling off of his tongue with confidence. The emotion behind the lyrics made your heart ache for him, that he had felt that way. But that aching was distracted and disrupted by his incredible charisma while being up on that stage. You eyes were so stuck on him, you weren't sure if you had even blinked once throughout his entire performance.

You saw a different side of Yoongi come out while he was on that stage; a darker and a wilder side. You could see how much he loved what he was doing, and how much heart and passion he truly put into it. You felt true awe while standing there amidst the flashing lights and the energy and the chaos. You watched the sweat roll down his forehead as he gripped the microphone tighter, his words flowing even faster.

You watched as he worked to make his dreams come true.

Coming down from off the stage, Yoongi was clearly ecstatic. For once, he seemed entirely confident about his performance, proud of himself for a job well done. You watched as he made his way to you, unable to even register what was happening as his arms were around you, pulling you into a hug. He was hot and sweaty and practically panting because he was so out of breath. But, instead of rushing for some cold water, he went straight to you.

The moment was so surreal as Yoongi tightened his arms around your waist, you almost wondered if maybe you were dreaming. But as he whispered in your ear, "Y/N, I think I might really make it," you finally could acknowledge how real the entire situation really was. You hugged him, pressing your hands into his back to bring him closer even though his entire shirt was soaked through with sweat.

But for some reason, even though his sweat was getting all over you and several people were watching you and you were incredibly hot, you didn't want him to pull away.

You would've stayed there, embracing Yoongi, tucked against his chest for hours if you could've.

You would've stayed there, heart beating out of your chest, cheeks flushed, Yoongi pressed against you for days if you could've.

You would've stayed like that forever, really.

But like all good things, the hug had to end. And when Yoongi pulled away, there was a smile brighter than the sun on his face. He was seemed so happy and so proud, you wished you could've frozen time and taken a snapshot of that exact moment.

"Thank you, Y/N," he said softly, before hugging you quickly one more time.

[zavalamegan96]

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How To Grow 3 Inches Taller In A Week Naturally

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[douchebagbrainwaves]

BUT ONLY GRADUATION RATES, THEN YOU'LL STAY AHEAD

What Business Can Learn from Open Source August 2005 This essay is derived from a keynote talk at the fall 2002 meeting of NEPLS. In every presidential election since TV became widespread, they'd become auto-unsubscribing filters. In fact, here there was a bimodal economy consisting, in Galbraith's words, of the forces underlying open source and blogging is that ideas can bubble up from the bottom as they get used to it and take it away from the most committed investors and work your way out of the initial sales of the Apple I, he felt obliged to give his then-employer, HP.1 Thanks to Trevor Blackwell, Dan Giffin, Sarah Harlin, Jessica Livingston, Greg Mcadoo, our contact at Sequoia, was one of the principles they teach you is to align the car not by lining up the hood with the stripes painted on the side of safety: when someone offers you money, take it. The venture capital business is pretty incestuous, and there was my program, written in C, they would have spent riding it down. I was leaving I offered it to him, he omits any comments except the note-to-peer dating site? If I order something from an online store builder, with about 14,000 users is ipso facto worth exploring. Why spend twenty years climbing the corporate ladder was one of the most memorable paintings, especially when you're young and smart, you don't really understand them.

I met them today They have an interesting business I'm just not sure how much credit to give him. Someone who doesn't know the kind of problem. But otherwise they felt they had enough to work that way. It's a little misleading to talk of versions when describing a gradual process, but that's only the immediate cause. If so, could they actually get things done. In particular, don't be deterred from applying to Y Combinator. Delivered on that promise. Actually it's structural. It was always understood that they enjoyed what they did. They'll lie to you on this one. In fact the large staffs of successful startups have, by building something you yourself need, the first three were our biggest expenses.

That was what we call the classics.2 It seemed curious that the same task could be painful to one person. For example, they like largely for the feeling of virtue in liking them. So far I've been able to achieve filtering rates that approach CRM114's. But that's another issue.3 Founders arriving at Y Combinator said that early on it had been a one-character name. Growth When we launched Viaweb, it seemed as if we were visited by beings from another solar system.4 Thanks to Trevor Blackwell and Jessica Livingston for reading drafts of this. In math it means that a shorter proof tends to be related, in that government office was a recognized route to wealth.5 When you see these ideas laid out like that, remember: ideas like that?

Often your information will be wrong: I tried living in Florence when I was a kid playing basketball? Sometimes they even agree with one another to invest in successive rounds, it often feels like they're trying to force them to be cold and calculating, or at least to yourself, I don't think it has much to offer good programmers, one of the top 20 YC companies by valuation have the. If someone pays $20,000 for 10% of a company like Yahoo or Intel or Cisco, he'd think communism had won. At YC we're excited when we figured out what seemed to be from the UK. Japanese are only about 2%. Now anything that became fashionable during the Bubble killed themselves by deciding to build server-based software wins, it will at least be a powerful force. Bill Yerazunis, Dan Giffin, and Lisa Randall for reading drafts of this, and Marc Andreessen, Joe Gebbia date: Fri, Jan 23,2009 at 11:09 AM subject: Re: airbnb They did but I am not sure I buy that ABNB reminds me of Etsy in that it makes me really want to.

And now that I've realized what's going on. Step 3: Series A Round Armed with their now somewhat fleshed-out business plan and trying to decide whether to change some part of it doesn't have to advertise. The history of the 20th century executive salaries were low partly because companies then were more dependent on banks, who would have disagreed with that, so we tightened up our filter to decrease the standard deviation of design outcomes because they want to invest the next time they need funding.6 For example, I doubt it will change anyway. On the average trip I bring four books and only read one of them. Sometimes angels' deal terms are standard doesn't mean they're favorable to you, especially if they're young and ambitious, they want to market themselves to the investors who are seriously interested in you, they will not always say what they really care about is the lack of responsibilities. And so it is unfair when someone works hard and doesn't get paid much. As organizations get smaller, you have to step back one step further along it. Meanwhile the iPhone is selling better than ever. Choosing a marginal project is the startup itself, they might have. I'm convinced the facetime model is not just that it will be to your advantage: you can go too far in any law, and this gives you an excuse for failure. I think the place to focus is the margin of failure, you succeed—and that's too big, they become overwhelmed.7

And what makes them work is not us but their competitors. The best we could do to get started that he was harming his future—that he was writing differentiation programs even in the mating dance with investors; the distinction between the spikes and the average writer of detective novels.8 2 to 3 times as many people alive in the US were designed by architects who expected to live in the suburbs. That was her actual word.9 Thanks to Sam Altman, Jessica Livingston, Jackie McDonough, Robert Morris, and my father for reading drafts of this. The New Funding Landscape October 2010 After barely changing at all for decades, the startup agrees to turn away other VCs for some set amount of time knows not to default to skepticism, no matter how much. The reason, again, language designers are somewhat out of touch with the world. Com. Eventually, they get their investment back before the common stock holders that is, in any social hierarchy, people unsure of their own, you can find someone to handle the paperwork for them. How important is it?10

Notes

I'm not claiming founders sit down and calculate the expected after-tax return from a few stellar exceptions the textbooks are similarly misleading. For more on not screwing up than any other company has to be hard on the entire period since the mid twentieth century, Europeans looked back on industrialization at the moment it's created indeed, is caring what random people thought of them.

Realizing that much to say because most of the most promising opportunities, it could change what it means they still control the company will be, yet.

The French Laundry in Napa Valley. Samuel Johnson said no man but a blockhead ever wrote except for that reason. Any expected value calculation for potential founders, and especially for opinions not expressed in it.

According to a clueless audience like that, founders will seem as if a company. That can be huge. Nat. But it was so violent that she decided never again.

In one way in which I warn about later: beware of getting rich, purely mercenary founders will seem more powerful, because the danger of chasing large investments is not even allowed to discriminate on the y, you'd see a clear upward trend. No one in an industrialized country encounters the idea. Earlier versions used a technicality to get something for which you are listing in order to win. The founders want the first couple times I saw that I hadn't had much success in doing something different if it were.

Of course, that they aren't. So if they don't yet have a three letter word.

Even now it's hard to say that a their applicants come from going to get a patent troll, either as truth or heresy. As Paul Buchheit adds: I remember about the same thing, because they are building, they could bring no assets with them. The late 1960s were famous for social upheaval.

It's not the sense of the biggest discoveries in any field. She ventured a toe in that water a while we have.

It's suspiciously neat. World War II to the founders want the valuation of your identity. No, we used to retrieve orders, view statistics, and don't want to turn down some good ideas buried in Bubble thinking. And while this sort of wealth—wealth that, in writing, and both times I bailed because I can't refer a startup.

I talk about real income statistics calculated in the mid twentieth century. When I catch egregiously linkjacked posts I replace the url with that additional constraint, you don't get any money till all the more accurate predictor of success for a small company that could evolve into a de facto chosen by human editors. It's probably inevitable that philosophy will suffer by comparison, because people would do it for you.

[oops-prow-did-it-again]

Pokémon Black: The Novel - Chapter 13 (Fierce)

Prologue and more info

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Pokémon Black: The Novel on FFN

Pokémon Black: The Novel on AO3

Pokémon Retold the series on AO3

—————————-

Traversing the straight path through Pinwheel Forest had been so much easier than when he had fought his way through the dense forestry to find that stupid skull. Even so, they paused at the gate between it and Sky-Arrow Bridge because they knew the walk across would be long and uncomfortable. It was growing warmer by the day and this day proved to be especially harsh. Despite the rising heat, Hil stubbornly kept his hoodie on, much to the combined annoyance of Cheren and apparently, Noodle. The Snivy had taken to Hil’s head, refusing to rest on his shoulders or hood.

Inside the gate, Bianca wandered over to the digital sign giving news to travelers, while Cheren and Hil bickered.

“You’re going to sweat to death,” Cheren complained. He had ditched his thin windbreaker within the last week, and instead wore just a white shirt with red trimming around the neck, which met at a stripe down the center. Combined with his slender, dark pants, he looked nice. Hil didn’t quite like his appearance without the baggy clothes obscuring his frame. He pressed his lips to a thin line as Cheren continued to nag him. See, this was why he called him ‘Daddy’ all the time, if not for the jokes. It was just true. “Take the hoodie off, for Arceus’ sake.”

“I wonder, do you hear yourself?” Hil asked with genuine confusion laced in his voice. “Like, were you ever a kid, or did you just come out as a dad?”

“Har har,” Cheren said pointedly. “Maybe if you had any sense, I wouldn’t have to worry so much.”

“Aww, you’re worried, about me?” Hil rose his voice in a mocking way, making it sound as if he had been truly touched by Cheren’s sentiment. Truthfully, he was; Cheren’s comment from the Nacrene City Museum when he had gone to face Lenora had not left his mind. “Yeah. I was worried. Now stop making it some weird joke. It’s not always a joke, you know.” As soon as he’d finished, he felt a little guilty for turning it into a joke yet again, but he stuck to his guns and kept up the taunt. “Also, I do have sense, thank you very much.”

“Sense enough to at least wear a light-colored hoodie if you’re going to wear one when it’s eighty degrees outside,” Cheren muttered.

“Hey!” Bianca interrupted them. “Guys, come check out the news on this board!”

Oh, joy, the news. Hil threw his head back to glare at the roof. This ought to be good. He followed Cheren over to her and all three of them then stared at the digital, animated sign. Yellow letters crawled across the screen and slowly told news of the next area over. This particular sign had news mainly about Castelia City.

The temperature today is 84* F!

Yeah, Hil knew that from how hard he was sweating.

Castelia City has a population of eight thousand! This makes us the most populous city in Unova!

Arceus, that’s a lot of people… Hil thought as he sucked in a fast breath. As that text took its sweet time creeping across the banner, Cheren piped up. “That seems like a lot to us, but research suggests human population would be way higher if not for pokémon. Like, between the amount of time people spend traveling, unfortunate encounters with wild pokémon people aren’t prepared for… Humans would be a lot more populous without pokémon. It was actually a really fascinating read.”

Bianca shrugged. “Oh well! I think pokémon are great and the people that are here are pretty great, too!”

“Yeah, it’s crowded enough everywhere as it is,” Hil yawned. Bianca rolled her eyes at him but kept smiling.

“Wait, wait, read that,” Cheren said, patting each of their shoulders that he could reach distractedly. Then he jabbed a finger at the sign.

Crime on a rise? Castelia City has been experiencing a string of robberies recently. Police want your help if you have any tips! The culprit is described as a person in their mid to late teens with dark hair and is known to carry a Samurott. Rewards are on the table for more information that points to the culprit’s whereabouts!

The message took quite some time to scroll past, but once it finished, Hil crossed his arms and rolled his eyes. “That’s exciting to know,” he said dryly.

“Oh, we better keep an eye out, then!” Bianca said fiercely.

“Bianca, dark hair, carrying a Samurott, and mid to late teens could describe a fifth or sixth of Castelia’s entire population,” Cheren sighed.

“Aw, but we can still keep an eye out!” Bianca bounced a little. “I wonder what kind of rewards they are talking about?”

“Keys to the city,” Hil suggested with a noncommittal shrug. He grinned at Bianca and knelt on one knee. He held open an empty hand to her. “For you, madam.”

“Why, you shouldn’t have,” Bianca flicked her hair and raised her chin, adopting a pompous edge to her voice. She smirked down at Hil and pushed his hands shut, then turned away from him.

“Ugh, rejection,” Hil groaned and clasped his hands over his heart. Cheren, looking rather hostile all of a sudden, scoffed at him.

“Get up,” he hissed, “you’re embarrassing.”

“Uh, yeah,” Hil snorted as he got back to his feet and brushed himself off. “What was your first clue?”

“Boys, play nice! And Hil, stop it!” Bianca called back at them from the other side of the gate. Hil then noticed that the helpdesk woman situated behind a deep blue counter had a hand over her face, as if trying to direct her attention at the computer in front of her and nothing else. “Let’s get going, why don’t we?” Bianca asked exasperatedly.

Hil and Cheren agreed. Before following her, Hil cast a glance back at the sign one more time.

…irearm awareness and vigil for Vincent Whitacre to be held at Castelia City Gym and Studio in three days! Castelia City wishes to make its community aware of the…

Wrenching his face away before the message finished, he could tell their stint in Castelia City would be fun already.

 -----------

The trek across the Sky-Arrow Bridge had been nice at first, but about three quarters of the way across that massive strip of walkway, Hil had finally relented and taken off his hoodie. Partially because he intended to beat Cheren with it to make him shut up about it. The heat must have been getting to all of them, as Noodle simply jumped from Hil’s head and ran ahead to get out of the crossfire and Bianca had snapped at them both to get it together. Then she had snatched Hil’s jacket from his grasp and stuffed it into her bag, which bulged with the effort of trying to hold it all.

On the other side, though, the tension seemed to dissipate at arriving in the large city. The dull roar of chattering civilians passing them by, and the occasional car, drowned out any other bickering between the three friends. They silently decided to make their way to a restaurant known for diner fare, to relax and escape the heat for a few minutes. They were seated at a booth, Bianca and Cheren on one side, and Hil with Noodle on the other. A pale wooden table separated them.

After that, everyone was in a much better mood, and they discussed their plans for the day. Despite how uncomfortable the walk between Castelia City and Nacrene City had been, it admittedly hadn’t taken that long. It was still about midday.

“I think I’m going to head to the gym right away,” Cheren stated. “Gym Leader Burgh is said to have quite a few trainers that help challengers get stronger before they face him. I think it’d do me good to face them instead of just wild pokémon.”

Hil shrugged. “I’m gonna head to the Pokémon Center, I think. I just wanna hang out with my team for a while and probably wait until tomorrow to face the gym…”

“I just want to sightsee!” Bianca cried giddily, lightly tapping the table with her fingertips. “I hear the piers are really pretty and there’s this boat that will take you on a short cruise around Castelia! The Royal Unova! I want on!”

“Huh, that does sound like fun…” Cheren mused as a waitress arrived and settled their drinks on the table. “I mean, I hope you have fun,” Cheren corrected with a cough. “You’ll need to tell me about it.”

“Of course!” Bianca beamed at him.

They spent another hour there—Hil fed Noodle a few scraps despite Bianca and Cheren’s concerns—and then went their separate ways. Hil, as he told his friends, retreated to the Pokémon Center with the intention of spending some quality time with his team in a private hostel room. The Nurse Joy had looked as if she had seen a ghost when he asked for the room key and offered him the private room before he’d even had a chance to speak. He thanked her as sarcastically as he could manage, having no patience for her or anyone else’s pity, and headed upstairs.

As he entered the room, he felt guilty, as if he had neglected most of his pokémon other than Noodle; Noodle was just so easy to carry with him outside of the Poké Ball. But another anxiety had begun to develop as well. His team consisted of a Munna, Patrat, Purrloin, Snivy, Blitzle, and Panpour. He knew from the past ramblings of his father and Cheren that most of those were considered difficult pokémon to train and use viably. He felt it was his responsibility to carry them through to the end now, having asked them if they wanted to (he had made sure to ask his newer teammates as well following their capture and they had also seemed to agree), but even if he managed to fight off the occasional freeze-ups, what if it simply became too difficult? He sighed as he tossed his team free of their Poké Balls and instead opted to just feed, pet, and groom them, idly ignoring the doubt. By the end of it, he was curled up in his bed, and fell asleep in the process of brushing out Lucky the Purrloin’s soft, violet fur.

He woke to claws digging into his chest and the obnoxious ringing of his Xtransceiver. He was vaguely aware of Lucky hissing as he jolted awake, slamming his head against the headboard behind him. Cursing under his breath, Hil groggily reached for that Arceus-forsaken device and saw he had a whole slew of missed messages and calls. His eyes flew open wide and he began to comb through the list, noticing a significant amount from his mother from over an hour ago, and then the more recent ones were from Cheren. As he went to press Cheren’s name to call him back, Cheren called again, so he answered.

“Cheren? What’s—”

“Get to Cruise Dock!”

“O-okay, calm down, dude, what’s going on?”

“Just get to Cruise Dock, I don’t have time to explain. Hurry! It’s Bianca!”

Like that, Cheren hung up. Hil blinked at the blank screen, and then it was like his brain went on autopilot at the idea of Bianca in trouble, his mother’s missed calls and messages forgotten. He gathered all of his things and stuffed them into his pockets, grumbling when the weight of his Xtransceiver, Pokédex, and badge case began to sag his pants. Anchoring them in place with some awkward leg movements, he retrieved his belt from the corner of the bed and then recalled his team.

“Sorry guys, we’ve got to go, Bianca might be in trouble,” he muttered as he went. At that, they seemed to still and willingly return to the balls. Noodle hopped to his shoulder from the bedspread and nudged him in the head with his pointy nose, as if to urge him on. Hil cast a glance around the room one last time to make sure he didn’t miss anything, and then slung his bag over his back, speeding out the Pokémon Center.

Cruise Dock was one of the five piers in Castelia City, spreading from its south end like the fingers of a human hand. That odd detail allowed Hil to remember them since Cheren had taught him about it ages ago. For once, he was grateful for Cheren’s quirk of constantly sharing his reservoir of seemingly random knowledge. He’d be amazing at trivia.

Once free of the Pokémon Center, Hil bolted through the throngs of people and found the pier just a few buildings down the way. People moved out of his way as he went, giving him clearance, though they also gave him the occasional hurtful remark (not that he paid them any mind). Down the middle of the long dock, he saw a small group of people gathered. Policemen patrolled the pier and one halted him with a Stoutland at his side. It snarled at Hil and he skidded to a halt, his nose nearly pressed to the officer’s outstretched hand.

Hil started to snap something at him, but Burgh’s familiar voice interrupted them both. “That’s okay, officer, let him through.”

The officer called his Stoutland and stepped aside, allowing Hil to see Burgh, Cheren, Bianca, and a girl with a comical amount of violet hair gathered at the center of the pier, between groups of police officers.  “Bianca!” Hil cried as he booked it over to them. He pushed the others away and hovered his hands over her shoulders as if he wanted to grab them, but he didn’t touch her. He bent his eyes down to her level and noted that her eyes were clenched shut and her face red and puffy. “Bianca, are you okay?”

“Someone stole her Munna,” Cheren told him tersely, waving Hil away. “Please, give her some space…”

“Ugh, I tried to chase him, but…” the violet-haired girl had a loud, booming voice for a girl, and she clenched both her fists at her comment. She looked to Bianca sadly. “I’m really sorry, Bianca.”

“I-it’s not your f-fault…” Bianca sniffled. “Th-thanks for coming out, H-Hil…”

Hil exchanged a look with Noodle on his shoulder and then put his hands on his hips. “So, what happened? Who did it? Why are we all just standing around here on the pier like idiots?”

“Bianca and Iris here say that they don’t know who he was, just that he was a guy dressed in all black, sunglasses, mask, the whole nine,” Cheren sighed. “We—”

“Watch it! Get him!”

Screaming and hollering cut Cheren off and the police on the pier began to swarm where the pier met Castelia City’s main road, barking at civilians to get out the way. Hil could barely hear it above the noise, but the policemen’s walkie talkies were broadcasting something to each one of them, something clearly very important. He saw one of them point at a pokémon flying through the sky. Hil narrowed his eyes in confusion at it but jerked his head to the side when he noticed Cheren had pulled his Pokédex out.

“Archeops, the First Bird Pokémon. They are intelligent and will cooperate to catch prey. From the ground, they use a running start to take flight,” the Pokédex prattled away from within Cheren’s palm. Just like that, the birdlike pokémon disappeared from sight, dipping between two of Castelia’s towering buildings. The cops had all but vanished after it. Some had, in what would have been an amusing sight had the situation been less stressful, jumped onto their Stoutland and rode them away.

Cheren squared his shoulders and groaned in frustration. “She just had her pokémon stolen! What are they going after a stupid Archeops for?”

“It’s that new thief,” Burgh answered so quietly he was nearly inaudible. He was staring after where the Archeops had disappeared with a distant, lost expression. “They likely think he took it. They’re wrong, bu—I mean, yeah… they probably think he took it…” His expression turned sour after that. Hil paid it no heed due to the anger prickling in his chest.

Cheren narrowed his eyes at Burgh when he stumbled over his words. Hil rolled his eyes at them. “Okay, well, while you all stand here and look pretty,” Hil sneered, “I’m gonna go find the Munna.”

“Finding it is a lot easier said than done, but I promise, we’ll find it,” Burgh said as he turned back to Bianca and placed a hand reassuringly on her shoulder. He glanced at Hil over his shoulder. “Hil, please, calm down, you’ll just upset her worse.”

Hil took a deep breath, reminding himself it was unfair to be harsh on Burgh like he wanted to be in that moment. “Right.” He exhaled.

Burgh looked Iris in the eyes. “You did everything you could,” he told her with conviction and a stern smile. Even in the face of such stress, he was still so positive. How on earth could anyone be like that? “But while I go find her Munna, can you stay with her? Keep her safe? The police will come back here once they’re done chasing the thief, but I’m sure she’d appreciate the little cocoon of protection in the meantime.” He winked at her.

“You got it, Gym Leader Burgh! I’ll be her bodyguard!” Iris pumped her fist and then brought it over her heart in a symbolic gesture. She added something in what seemed to be a foreign tongue.

“Hil, Cheren,” Burgh turned to them next, “I want you two to come with me, okay? We’re going to look through the city for anything sketchy. If we spot nothing still, I’ll look around the sewers. Meet me at my gym if you come up empty.”

“Don’t bother.”

Bianca screamed and jumped, latching onto Iris. Iris wobbled dangerously on her feet before anchoring herself in place. Civilians that had gathered around them curiously also gasped and shrieked. Hil, Burgh, and Cheren whipped their heads to the person that had spoken, and Hil soon saw why everyone had panicked upon seeing him. He was tall and lithe, boasting solid black attire from head to toe, all except for a black mask that covered most of his face. Crudely drawn on in what looked like white charcoal, a wide, chaotic, Cheshire cat-like smile stretched from ear to ear, making him look quite deranged. Sunglasses blocked his eyes from view and messy, dark brown hair, oily and unclean, lay in clumps across his head. He had both of his hands stuffed into his baggy hoodie’s pockets. “The Munna thief booked it for the office across from your gym,” he added quickly. Hil noted that his voice trembled with effort, as if he were speaking differently than he was used to. “I’d have stopped them, but ah… seems the police are feeling extra antsy today. Had to ditch them to even get over here to you.”

Burgh glared at the man dressed in black with an intense gaze. Slowly, he nodded. “Thank you.”

“Who are you?” Hil found himself asking as he looked over the new guy curiously. He looked like he had jumped straight out of a heist film, like he was someone that would have held people hostage at the top of a tower. He turned to face Hil, but with all the garb and masking, it was difficult to tell what his expression was at all.

“Nobody at all,” he answered Hil softly. Nobody noticed, but Burgh flinched when he said that. He then gave a low whistle, and from the west end of the pier, a Samurott burst free of the water. It paused briefly in front of the guy in black, who swung a leg over its back and clung to the cream-colored armor on its head, and just like that, they were gone. It had dived for the other side of the pier, the guy still clinging to it, as if they had practiced it many times before.

Hil stared after them almost dazedly. That had been an amazing show of pokémon and person working together! He couldn’t believe someone like that was capable of such a feat! Not to mention the mask had honestly been cool… “Was that—”

“The thief,” Burgh sighed. “He sent off his Archeops so the police would go after it, so he could get away.”

“…And tell you about Bianca’s Munna’s whereabouts,” Cheren pointed out with crossed arms. “Just what was that about?”

“Who cares?” Hil snorted as he regarded Cheren. He jogged ahead of Burgh and threw a look over his shoulders. “We know where her Munna is! Burgh, let’s go get it!”

Burgh nodded quickly. “No time for that now, Cheren, care to follow us to go get her Munna back?”

“Am I the only one here with brain cells? The local thief just told us where the Munna is! Why are we trusting him? For all we know, he’s involved!”

Burgh waved him away and began to walk ahead. “Never mind that, Cheren. Hil, Cheren, Iris, Bianca, follow me, please. Now that we know where it’s at, I’d like you all to come with, keep you all with me.”

Hil fell into stride with the gym leader. Now that he had come to an understanding with Burgh, it felt rather comfortable to have him by his side. Cheren flanked the other side, muttering under his breath, while Iris and Bianca brought up the rear. Hil glanced back at her a couple of times and noted she was still hysterical despite the promise of getting her Munna back.

“It had already been through so much! And I let it get hurt again! Oh, Munny!” Bianca howled as they moved. Iris was helping hold her upright. She mumbled something Hil couldn’t understand again, and then wrapped an arm around Bianca’s shoulders tightly. Hil hardened his gaze and looked away. Whoever was responsible for this, there would be hell to pay. He would not let them get away with this, not if he could help it. He was going to help. He would never be useless when another person needed his help again.

Never, ever again.

It wasn’t long before they found their way to Burgh’s gym. Across the street from it, a nondescript office building sat wedged between a gaudy fashion boutique and a flower shop, shorter than either of them. Burgh protectively urged the rest of the group behind him and banged his fist on the door. “Gym Leader Burgh! Please answer!”

A man in an all-too familiar cloak and tall hat answered the door. At the sight of Burgh, his eyes bulged, and he brushed wiry gray hair from in front of his eyes. “Gym Leader Burgh! To what do we owe the pleasure of your visit today?”

Burgh took a deep breath and his lips pressed to a dangerously thin line. Whatever patience Burgh had seemed to evaporate. “I see you’re a Sage for Team Plasma,” he growled, “so tell me, why have I been told of a man thieving a girl’s Munna that scurried off to your establishment today? Do tell me, Sage, what is Team Plasma’s message, hmm? Take what you want from people? Because lately, I feel like that may be it!”

Hil couldn’t help the wild smirk that crossed his face. He glanced to Cheren and found he looked excited, even if a little apprehensive. Were they about to see Burgh stomp out some of the dark side of Team Plasma? That would be amazing, Hil thought darkly. Then his mind thought back to how Lenora’s Watchog had physically attacked one of the other Sages… he winced at the thought. He hoped it didn’t escalate to anything like that again… That had been hard to watch, a gym leader losing her cool like that…

The Sage held up his hands in surrender and backed up slightly. “No, no, Gym Leader Burgh, of course not! Please, all of you come inside, we’ll see what we can do to sort this out. My name is Sage Bronius.”

“No,” Burgh growled, throwing his left arm out to stop any of the children following him from entering the building. “No. I want to speak to your leader. Sage Ghetsis, isn’t that his name?”

“He’s not here,” Bronius answered cagily.

“Convenient,” Burgh retorted icily.

“Please, come inside,” Bronius insisted again, moving aside to give them room to enter. Hil could see the interior of the building looked normal. Stark, white walls, sterile tile flooring, a reception desk… it looked like how he’d imagine a normal office building. Suddenly, he wasn’t so sure about the information they had been given… Perhaps Cheren had been right to question Burgh, but at the same time, he knew the gym leaders—especially Burgh—weren’t stupid. If Burgh had reason to believe the information he’d been given, then surely it was best to simply trust him? Questioning a gym leader’s judgment was an uncomfortable feeling…

Burgh silently entered the building at last, motioning for the kids to follow him. He never took his eyes off Bronius, and he made a conscious effort to try to keep the group behind him. Bronius gestured at a few soft, white recliners in the lobby, but Burgh pointedly refused.

“So, Gym Leader Burgh, what is the problem today?” Bronius asked kindly. He took a seat in one of those recliners and crossed his hands patiently over his lap.

Bianca burst into tears again and Iris hugged her close. “One of you stole her pokémon, that’s what!” Iris snarled.

“What do you mean?” Bronius blinked and cocked his head in concern. That stupid, gaudy hat tipped dangerously, ready to fall at any second. “We have not stolen any pokémon. We have claimed some from abusive trainers, yes, but not stolen.”

“It was a Munna,” Burgh explained coolly. “And define ‘claim.’”

“A Munna?” Bronius’ eyes bulged for a moment before he cleared his throat and regained his composure. “I… we did take in a Munna today. From a particularly nasty young girl, by what I was told.” Bianca howled a sob.

“You shut your mouth,” Cheren marched forward and actively shoved at Burgh when he tried to hold him back. Hil grabbed him by his shirt then.

“I’ll call my footman that took in the Munna,” Bronius sighed, rubbing his temple. He stood up and ambled over to a callbox next to an elevator. “Grunt Lancaster, please report to the lobby.”

Within a few minutes, the elevator doors opened, and a redheaded man in a silver hood exited. He froze when he saw everyone gathered in the lobby, the color draining from his face rapidly.

“You!” Hil spat, recognizing him right away. “You were one of those jerks in the Dreamyard!”

“Well, this just gets better and better,” Cheren growled.

“I know,” Bianca wailed desperately. “I-I-I s-saved Munny once, a-and then… th-then… she got taken r-right back by the m-m-man who b-beat her up!”

Iris murmured some more soothing, foreign words at her.

Lancaster swallowed hard and looked up at Bronius. The Sage scowled down at him. “What are they talking about, Grunt Lancaster? You told me this girl had beaten this Munna within an inch of its life.”

“Sh-she did!” Lancaster exclaimed lamely, scooting closer to Bronius as he did.

“Liar!” Hil stamped his foot and raised a Poké Ball. “I watched you kick it! I saw you! Did you really go back after her because you were mad you had to leave? It wasn’t even really Ghetsis there, anyway! It was a Musharna!”

“I know!” Lancaster snarled back at him suddenly. “I know, because I came back with the other grunt, Virgil, apologized to Ghetsis, and he had no idea what we were talking about! So, thank you, but I know!” His eyes blazed furiously. “And for your information, yes! I did take that Munna from her. To send a lesson.”

“Lancaster!” Bronius hissed. “How dare you—”

“It seems I was not invited to this party. How hurtful. I’m such a gracious host.”

Everyone fell silent as yet another person disembarked the elevator, but this time, there was no immediate accusatory screaming. Everyone fell quiet and took a step back, giving the man some space. It was Ghetsis, there was no doubt about it. The slack right half of his face clashed frighteningly with his devilish smirk. He raised his chin and overlooked the lobby. “What appears to be the problem, gentlemen?”

“I am tired of playing games. We just want this girl’s Munna back,” Burgh said sternly. “Give us the Munna back, and we’ll be out your hair.”

“Of course. Grunt Lancaster, give this girl her Munna back,” Ghetsis said calmly as he looked over the irate grunt. Lancaster eyed the floor, seeming to not have the nerve to glare at Ghetsis, and then hurled a Poké Ball at Burgh. Cheren caught it out from in front of him and bent down next to Bianca, handing her the ball tenderly. She squealed in excitement and hugged him and Iris both at once, spewing rapid ‘Thank yous’ as she went, even when she briefly looked up to cast a glance at Lancaster.

“Don’t thank him,” Iris scolded, “they stole it in the first place!”

Bianca didn’t have a response for that. She merely hugged them both tighter.

“Please do not misunderstand the actions of my selfish subordinate,” Ghetsis said, clearing his throat. Everyone’s attention was drawn back to him. “Grunt Lancaster will be reprimanded as seen fit. He does not define us. We must change hearts with words because violence just creates more violence. Puts more pokémon in harm’s way. Just like that poor Munna.”

His voice was dry and emotionless despite the inflection. Hil narrowed his eyes at him. He couldn’t quite place it, but he just didn’t like this guy.

“Then reign in your organization!” Burgh snarled at last, making everyone bar Ghetsis jump. “Everyone in this entire country can call me whatever they like, they can slander me six ways to Sunday on the news, they can say any actions I take against you are to silence you for propaganda for the League, but I will not stand for anything like this! Nobody will come to harm under my watch, understood? Make your speeches. Hand out your pamphlets. But if any more trainers are attacked here, do not expect me to just stand idly by!”

Ghetsis nodded along with Burgh’s speech thoughtfully, unfazed by his yelling. “A moving expression, Gym Leader Burgh. Your determination is admirable, especially considering how you would let your reputation go up in smoke for your cause. It’s people like you that allow Team Plasma to be so effective. You’re an intelligent man. I am truly sorry you had a run in with one of our lesser members.” He sighed. “And I am also truly sorry that the public has decided you are to blame for so much recently. The public can be cruel, we would know. We just want people to reconsider their relationships with their pokémon. That’s all. Our extremists do not define us.”

Hil gritted his teeth. That was it. The inflection without emotion suddenly made sense. Hil remembered the holidays and birthdays spent with Vince in the time while he was training there in Castelia. He would laugh and joke, but he would always look like he was somewhere else. His voice would change in tone, but it felt tired and as if it took all the effort he had to do so. Even if now he understood Vince’s reasons were likely far different from Ghetsis’, the ultimate goal was the same—deceive and lull the other into a false sense of security.

“Let’s go,” Hil said quietly. “We got what we came for. Let’s leave and call the police on them. Don’t listen to him.”

“Agreed,” Burgh said as he looked at Hil, shaking his head as if to shake away what Ghetsis had said.

Burgh led everyone out of the lobby. Neither Ghetsis or Bronius tried to stop them, and Lancaster was too busy cowering against a wall to say anything. Once they had left, Bronius had sighed and rubbed his forehead. “I can’t believe you did that, Grunt Lancaster. I am deeply ashamed. If we use pokémon to satisfy our personal vendettas, then we are no different from those that abuse and use them as tools in battle.”

“I am growing weary of the complaints against you, Lancaster,” Ghetsis mused as he shot the grunt a deadly, piercing look. “Watch your step.” Ghetsis suddenly raised his left leg and brought his foot down hard against Lancaster’s right shoe. The grunt yelped and staggered, losing balance and landing on his elbow. “Didn’t I tell you that you were lucky to escape the Dreamyard incident with your friend alive? Perhaps the gym leader is right. I do need to reign in my team. Bronius.”

Bronius perked his head up. “Yes?”

“We’re leaving this office here in Castelia. I have no more need of it.” He chuckled darkly. “Was fun to have a hideout across from the gym leader of the most populous city in Unova while it lasted, but I suppose it was only a matter of time.”

“…Yes, Lord Ghetsis. I’ll gather everyone in the lobby.”

“Thank you.” Ghetsis took a deep breath and then raised his left arm high. “Shadow Triad, come to me!”

[mauriciohigginbo-blog]

Start-up Company On Steam.

Lithium start-up finds backers for Cornish job. When it comes to remaining power, Heldenbrand says one of the most reliable tool known to improve drug adherence is education and learning by a medical care professional-- more than one, usually." To that end, both Capsule as well as Circadian deal communication with customers' medical professionals, in the form of a report on finished distributions (Pill) and an auto-logged document of tablets taken (Circadian). Graham informs the put together startup groups to think always about that due date-- job like crazy for these three months, launch a product that attracts clients, generate evidence that the business version could work, as well as take advantage of the comments from Y Combinator partners, all to make sure that they offer the best possible discussion on March 22. There are 77 days up until Demo Day," Graham tells the group. 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The money will certainly go on towards releasing CityStasher in Europe - primarily in weekend break destinations - creating an application as well as trialling a solution to relocate bags around London. Cable's launch is worldwide without obstacles, instead of a slow, invite-only rollout, which suggests while it functioned wonderfully while composing this post, the genuine examination will come if when individuals start overdoing to the system. The way they come close to early-stage investments is to do a great deal of due persistance and spend a lot of time considering the version, the group as well as just what the item looks like," Singhal stated. A Google Analytics-like control panel providing understandings on when a store is active and also just how much foot web traffic it has For us schmoes, we'll be able to see if there's a complimentary table at the corner cafe through streaming, however anonymized, video that might be placed on websites like Yelp. The web age was assisted along by Windows 98's Beginning food selection. These columns, Bonini said, are classic." Advanced modern technology could make the TPS system work better, but the concentrate on individuals-- both those in the organization as well as the consumer at the end of the process-- continues to be an important part of the triangle. He 'd be taking a 40 percent pay cut to join them, however he would have his difficult issue as well as would certainly get to run his own data-science team. The odds, obviously, are that they make use of Google, the competitor that's even further inside the heads of Microsoft execs compared to Steve Jobs is. I have actually been running Virtual Reality for Two Decade, and the bane of my presence is chauffeur updates. If you have any questions regarding the place and how to use saudesuperior.pt, you can make contact with us at our internet site. The British company, which wased established by 2 Cambridge grads five years ago, said the funds will certainly be invested in creating its innovation as well as to hire in London as well as San Francisco. After some discussion, Graham recognizes that the business is concentrating its initiatives on huge prospective customers. Crane leasing could be unavoidable if you have a future improvement or building and construction job. Do not assume that conventional term loans and overdraft accounts are the only things you could obtain from a bank, states Emmanouil Schizas, moderate as well as small business policy adviser at ACCA, the global body for professional accounting professionals. Though research study released by Stanford University in 2012 discovered that Chinese telephone call facility staff members that worked from home were far more effective compared to those who functioned from the office, a 2013 evaluation by workforce information business Evolv found that those performance gains leave over time. Today, we deal with 20,000 companies getting to 5 million employees, and we were lately obtained by a firm that's been a New york city establishment for over 100 years. As a companion at equity capital fund SoftTech VC, his job is to find brand-new startups that have huge potential and also deserve buying. First, your backers' cards are charged then after about two weeks funds will be sent to your checking account from our payments processor, Red stripe. MDM leaves much to be preferred for forward-thinking companies, and Zimperium will come to be a lot more noteworthy in 2015 as MDM remains to die an all-too-slow death. Rather than committing for the lasting, working with personnel on fixed-term contracts at first can be a good way to assess exactly how mentally spent they remain in the venture's success. This is not just an essential effort but one in which Microsoft is playing catch-up: went live with its cloud solutions in early 2006 as well as currently hosts data storage space or applications for more than 400,000 designers, consisting of the full historic archives of The New York Times.

[touristguidebuzz]

First impressions and observations from our trip to Aruba

Thoughts from our trip to Aruba

It’s been a few weeks since we returned from our first trip to the island nation of Aruba. Now that we’ve had some time to reflect, we’d like to share a few things we learned from this family trip to the Southern Caribbean.

Traveling south in the winter has become somewhat of an annual tradition for us, for a few reasons. First, and most obvious, Vancouver winters are cold and rainy and we crave a little sunshine come February. Second, we like to celebrate our wedding anniversary in the same climate where we were married (we married in Mexico’s Riviera Maya in February 2008).

We decided to visit Aruba this year because we found a great deal on flights by redeeming our Aeroplan Miles. We shared how we found these flights in a previous blog post. We were able to get 4 round trip flights from Vancouver to Aruba for less than $700 (total).

We spent a total of 5 days in Aruba, because we island hopped to Curacao for a few days, so we didn’t have as much time to really explore the island. But it was enough to get a feel for this Dutch Caribbean island.

Today we’d like to share a our first impressions and observations from our trip to Aruba.

It’s always windy in Aruba

When we say windy, we mean REALLY windy. All the time.

Now, that’s not a bad thing. The breeze keeps things cool, especially mid-day when it gets really hot. But you need to make sure you’re prepared for strong gusts of wind. This can be challenging when sitting outside for lunch or dinner (items are easily knocked over or disappear in the wind).

Funny story – before our trip we discovered that our youngest boy, Connor, had developed a fear of wind. The minute he felt wind hit his face he would run back inside the house crying. It was quite comical.

Because it’s always windy in Aruba, the moment we stepped out of the airport, and he felt the strong wind hit his face, he immediately freaked out and tried running back inside the airport. The first few days in Aruba were rough for him (in the above photo, Connor is sitting in his stroller hidden behind that striped towel), but this trip helped him get over his fear. He is now no longer scared of the wind.

The beaches are fabulous! 

The beaches on the west coast of Aruba are some of the nicest beaches we’ve ever seen. We would easily rank them in our top 5 for most beautiful beaches in the world. Bold statement, but true. Seriously, look at that photo above! That’s Eagle Beach.

The silky white sand is incredible. It’s so soft and it doesn’t get too hot on the toes, even during peak sun hours. The bright turquoise water is as beautiful as it looks in the photos.

The sunsets on Eagle Beach and Palm Beach are spectacular. Because the beaches are west facing, you’re treated to a soft pastel sunset every evening. Our boys loved running up and down the beach, dancing through the waves. Those sunset evenings on the pristine beaches are what we will remember most about our time in Aruba.

Read next – 22 Beaches to take your mind off winter

The weather is always nice

The average temperature in Aruba is 28 degrees Celsius (82 degrees Fahrenheit), making it the perfect winter escape for us Northerners. What’s interesting is that this average temperature is consistent throughout the year. So there really isn’t a bad time to visit. The temperature range throughout the year is between 26 to 29 degrees Celsius. And even when it’s really hot, the constant wind keeps things cool and breezy.

It’s reported that Aruba receives an average of 40 cm (16 inches) of rainfall each year. Yes, that’s for the entire year! This ranks as the lowest amount of rainfall in the Caribbean. It’s said that Aruba has the most sunny days of any island in the Caribbean. We like those odds!

Now, I don’t want to jinx your trip, but those facts all but guarantee your going to experience great weather in Aruba. An added bonus is that Aruba is located outside the hurricane belt, so it’s very rare that a hurricane will hit the island.

The island is very diverse

A desert in the Caribbean? We were surprised to learn that Aruba is often called the desert island. We’ve also heard the island described as “Arizona with beaches”. Like the deserts of Arizona, Aruba is covered with giant cactus and dusty rocky landscapes. When we learned the island only receives 40 cm of rain each year it started to make sense.

When you get away from the white sand beaches you’ll find a very diverse landscape and ecosystem. In fact, almost 20% of Aruba’s land is covered by Arikok National Park, a protected park that boasts a variety of indigenous wildlife, cactus plants and rock formations.

The island is small, but not that small

We did not rent a car but it would have been a good idea. Although it’s a small island (32 kilometers from top to bottom), there’s actually quite a lot to see and do. And it’s not easy getting around without a vehicle.

The downtown area is small and walkable, but getting there and back can be challenging. While the west coast beaches are lined with hotels, they are quite far apart. So walking from one end of the beach to the other will take a lot longer than you think, especially with small children.

There is a public transit system that is cheap, but it’s not very convenient and the time schedules are unpredictable. Renting a car will save you time and money, especially if you plan to visit the many attractions on the island.

Of course, if your plan is to just sit on the beach all day, don’t bother getting a vehicle.

De Palm Island is a fun place to spend the day

De Palm Island is an all-inclusive island offering a wide range of food, drinks and activities that caters to both kids and adults. You can choose to sit on the beach and sip frozen cocktails or get active and snorkel from the island shore.

The island has a fun water park for the kids, zip-lining, Snuba, private beaches, snorkeling, multiple restaurants and, of course, endless adult beverages. It’s a fun place to turn off the brain and enjoy the Caribbean sun.

Read more – When in Aruba, you should visit De Palm Island. Here’s why.

Aruba is part of the Kingdom of Netherlands

Aruba is part of the ABC islands (Aruba, Curaçao, and Bonaire), which are the western-most islands of the Leeward Antilles in the Caribbean Sea. All three islands are part of the Kingdom of the Netherlands, although they remain outside the European Union.

It felt a little strange to be on a Caribbean island, just a few kilometers north of Venezuela in South America, that has Dutch flags everywhere.

We chatted up a taxi driver who gave us his thoughts on the relationship between Aruba and the Netherlands. He informed us that Aruba is autonomous and self-governing, but still relies heavily on the Netherlands for many things, like national defense and international interests.

We asked him if there were a lot of Dutch residents on the island and he said that the number was actually fairly low when compared to other nationalities. Aruba is said to be the most diverse nations in the world, with over 90 nationalities residing on the island. That’s an impressive number when you consider the island has a population of only 103,000.

Aruba is Expensive

Aruba is not cheap. It didn’t help that the Canadian dollar is weak right now and we visited during peak season (February). Of course, there are many ways to save money, like renting an apartment that’s located inland and shopping at a grocery store instead of eating at restaurants. But we didn’t travel all the way to Aruba to cook our meals and eat indoors.

We use the beer test to measure how expensive a destination is.

The average price for beer at a restaurant on Eagle Beach is $5 USD for a 25cl bottle. In Canada, a pint typically costs $7 CAD. You need approximately 2 x 25cl bottles to equal a pint (that’s a US pint, not a UK pint). So, that’s $10 USD for a pint. When you factor in the current exchange rate, that’s about $13.50 CAD for a pint of beer in Aruba. That’s double what we pay in Canada. Not cheap.

Many restaurants and bars automatically add a service charge to your bill. This is not considered gratuity. We challenged a bartender on this service charge and he said it is collected to share with the service staff, but gratuity of 15-20% is still expected (on top of the service charge!). So, you end up tipping 30%?!

We spoke to other tourists who frequent Aruba often and they told us NOT to tip on top of the service charge. They said it’s a misleading and unethical charge that most bars and restaurants get away with because first time visitors don’t know any better. Not cool!

Aruba is easy to navigate and it’s family friendly

Aruba is a safe and easy country to visit. We didn’t have any trouble getting around. The people are friendly and accommodating. Most restaurants have a kids menu and there’s a good mix of local restaurants and big North American chains. It’s built for tourism, so it’s easy to find tours and activities.

Choose your accommodations wisely

Building on the above point, accommodations in Aruba are not cheap. Especially during the peak season (January to March). There are all inclusive options but we found it hard to justify $500 per night for an all inclusive hotel.

After experiencing how expensive food and drinks are on the island, we probably would have gone for the all inclusive option. It would have ended up costing about the same, but the hotels would have been nicer.

We spent a few nights at the Tropicana Aruba Resort (Eagle Beach) and one night at the Mill Resort Hotel Aruba (Palm Beach). Both were 3 star hotels that were not located on the beach.

The above photo is from the Mill Resort Hotel. The big white building in the backdrop is the popular Riu Palace Aruba. That hotel sits directly on Palm Beach (see photo below), so you get an idea of where the Mill Resort Hotel is located in relation to the beach. We had to cross a busy road and the beach access was about 1 kilometer from the hotel. Not a big deal, but we have preferred to be on the beach.

We decided to stay at the Tropicana Aruba Resort because it offered a 1 bedroom option. In the past, we’ve opted for 1 bedroom suites because it’s ideal for baby travel. This trip to Aruba taught us that we don’t need a 1 bedroom suite anymore. Our boys are old enough now and we don’t need to contend with naps anymore (yeah!).

In our opinion, both the Tropicana Resort and Mill Resort Hotel are quite dated and overpriced. The pools and grounds are decent, but not great. Our stay was fine, we don’t have any major complaints, but we felt like if we paid a little more we would have had a much better experience.

Our boys love swimming in the pool, so we usually end up spending a lot of time at the hotel. Because of this, we’d recommend spending a little more to get a nice hotel that’s located directly on the beach.

Read next – 13 Tips for Successful Baby Travel

Final Thoughts

Over the past few years we’ve talked about how our travel style has changed since having kids. We now see the value in paying more for convenience and luxury. We prefer destinations that make it easy for family travel. We are so done with backpacks and hostels.

We enjoyed our time in Aruba because it was easy and relaxing. We didn’t want our schedules filled with activities and sightseeing. We wanted to slow down and enjoy the sunsets. We wanted to play in the pool with our boys and eat outdoors with our toes in the sand.

Aruba gave us exactly what we were looking for.

  Read next – 16 Things Travel Taught us in 2016

First impressions and observations from our trip to Aruba is a post from: Traveling Canucks

Related posts:

When in Aruba, you should visit De Palm Island. Here’s why.

Things to do in St Lucia while on a Caribbean Cruise

Where to next? We’re going to Aruba and Curacao!

15 Photos that will inspire you to travel to Belize

[susannahcrane27-blog]

FROM THE BEGINNING

FROM THE BEGINNING...

I WAS INCARCERATED AND HELD WITHOUT BOND IN THE LOUDON COUNTY ADULT DETENTION CENTER ON JUNE 24, 2012 FOR 8 MONTHS BEFORE BEING GIVEN THE “NGRI PLEA” WHICH STANDS FOR “NOT GUILTY BY REASON OF INSANITY.” I DID NOT ACCEPT THIS PLEA VOLUNTARILY NOR HAD ANY IDEA WHAT IT PERTAINED TO, I WAS ILLEGALLY GIVEN THIS PLEA FOR THE CHARGE OF ELUDING THAT OCCURRED IN MARCH OF 2011.THE LAW STATES THAT IN ORDER TO BE GIVEN THE, “NGRI OFFENSE” OR PLEA; I WOULD HAVE HAD TO BE EVALUATED AT THE TIME OF THE OFFENSE, IN WHICH I WAS NOT. THEY WAITED TO GIVE ME THIS PLEA  IN FEBRUARY OF 2012 ALMOST AN ENTIRE YEAR LATER. THIS WAS A  COMPLETE VIOLATION OF MY CONSTITUTIONAL RIGHTS. THIS WAS UNLAWFUL FOR THE COURT SYSTEM AND THE JUDGE TO WAIT ONE MONTH SHY OF  A YEAR BEFORE GIVING ME THE “NGRI PLEA.” THIS WAS CRIMINAL ON BEHALF OF THE COURT SYSTEM. THE REASON THEY GAVE ME THIS PLEA… ALL THE PHONES IN THE JAIL THAT ARE MADE ACCESSIBLE TO THE INMATES, ARE TAPED AND MONITORED  FROM WITHIN THE JAIL. I HAD AN ACCIDENT THAT REQUIRED ME LEAVING THE JAIL TO GO TO AN EMERGENCY ROOM ON AUGUST 2, 2012. THERE WAS AN INMATE IN JAIL WITH A STAFF INFECTION THAT WAS HIGHLY CONTAGIOUS THUS CAUSING ONE OF THE DEPUTIES TO USE AN ENTIRE LARGE BOTTLE OF BLEACH TO PREVENT THE SPREAD OF THIS INFECTION. I WAS THEN GIVEN THE RIGHT TO TAKE A SHOWER AND AFTER I ENTERED THE SHOWER, I WAS LOCKED IN THE SHOWER AND IMMEDIATELY STARTED FEELING CRAMPS IN MY GROIN AREA, THE AMOUNT OF BLEACH USED TO CLEAN THE JAIL SHOWER WAS SO INTOXICATING THAT I FAINTED FOUR TIMES TO MY KNOWLEDGE TRYING TO GET TO THE COLD WATER. I ENDED UP WITH A HUGE CHUNK OF FLESH HANGING FROM MY ELBOW AND I HAD AN IMMEDIATE HEADACHE AND THE LUMP ON MY HEAD WAS HUGE. I WAS THEN TAKEN OUT OF JAIL IN SHACKLES AND CHAINS TO AN EMERGENCY ROOM TO GET 10 STITCHES IN MY ELBOW. I KEPT ASKING THE DOCTORS AND OR THE NURSES TO FEEL THE HUGE LUMP ON MY HEAD. THEY DID NOT AND EXPLAINED TO ME IN THE EMERGENCY ROOM THAT THE JAIL JUST ORDERED X-RAYS ON MY ELBOW. TO THIS DAY I STILL HAVE A PARTIAL BUMP ON MY HEAD FROM THAT FALL IN THE JAIL SHOWER OVER 4 YEARS AGO. I HAVE NEVER HAD IT CHECKED OUT NOR HAVE I EVER BEEN GIVEN AN MRI.AS I WAS RETURNED TO THE JAIL AND SENT TO BACK TO MY CELL UPON MY RETURN FROM THE EMERGENCY ROOM. I WAS EVENTUALLY CALLED BACK TO MEDICAL TO HAVE ONE OF THE NURSES REMOVE MY STITCHES AND IT WAS OBVIOUS THEY SHOULD NOT HAVE BEEN TAKEN OUT WHEN THE NURSE REMOVED THEM. I ENDED UP WITH A SERIOUS INFECTION THAT CAUSED ME TO BE SENT TO MEDICAL FOR OVER ONE MONTH AS THE NURSE HAD TO DRAIN FLUID WITH HER HAND BY SQUEEZING MY ARM ON A DAILY BASIS. IT WAS ABSOLUTELY DISGUSTING. AS I WAS HELD IN MEDICAL THE SMELL OF EXHAUST WAS COMING IN ON A DAILY BASIS BECAUSE I WAS RIGHT NEXT TO THE GARAGE WHERE ALL THE DEPUTIES VEHICLES WERE STORED. MONTHS  LATER WHILE STILL BEING HELD WITHOUT BOND IN JAIL, I STARTED LOSING MY EYESIGHT TO THE POINT WHERE THE FEMALES UNIFORMS THAT WERE WHITE AND ORANGE STRIPED STARTED TO BECOME ONE BIG  BECOME ONE BIG ORANGE BLUR. I THEN CALLED MY ATTORNEY’S OFFICE FROM THE INMATE PHONE AND GOT MY ATTORNEY’S ASSISTANT. I ASKED HIM IF HE COULD PLEASE RESEARCH THE LOSS OF VISION RELATED TO A HEAD INJURY. HE ASSURED ME HE WOULD AND TOLD ME TO CALL BACK THE FOLLOWING DAY. I DID JUST THAT ONLY TO HEAR HE NEVER CAME IN TO THE OFFICE THE FOLLOWING DAY. I WAS CONCERNED AND UPON CALLING THE FOLLOWING DAY I GOT MY ATTORNEY ON THE PHONE. I ASKED HER WHAT HER ASSISTANT FOUND OUT AND ALL SHE HAD TO SAY TO ME WAS, “LOOK, IM NOT A MEDICAL DOCTOR BUT I HAVE A GREAT DEAL FOR YOU TO TAKE THAT WILL DROP ALL CHARGES. I WAS SOMEWHAT ECSTATIC AND DESPERATE TO EXIT THE LIVING HELL I WAS FORCED TO ENDURE FOR SO MANY MONTHS DURING MY INCARCERATION WHERE I WAS HELD ON CHARGES WITHOUT CONVICTION. SHE TOLD ME I WOULD BE SENT FOR 45 DAYS OR LESS TO BE EVALUATED AT CENTRAL STATE HOSPITAL. I SAID, “YOU MEAN I CAN GO HOME IN POSSIBLY EVEN 30 DAYS.” SHE SAID SURE POSSIBLY AFTER YOU GET EVALUATED. I WAS SO EXCITED BECAUSE I JUST WANTED TO GO HOME AND BE WITH MY FAMILY, DESPERATELY. I HAD ALREADY LOST MY MOTHER ON AUGUST 28, 2012 AND WAS NOT EVEN ALLOWED TO GO TO MY OWN MOTHERS FUNERAL. THIS SADDENED ME SO.I CRIED EVERY NIGHT WHILE I WAS HELD IN JAIL WITHOUT BOND. I COULD NOT BELIEVE THIS WAS HAPPENING TO ME. THE 45 DAYS THAT MY ATTORNEY SAID I WOULD BE HELD FOR EVALUATION, TURNED INTO 8 TORTUROUS MONTHS OF THE WORST KIND OF “HELL ON EARTH.” I WAS LITERALLY ASSAULTED 7 TIMES WITH EACH ASSAULT BECOMING MORE VIOLENT THAN THE ONE BEFORE. I WAS 3 HOURS AWAY FROM MY FAMILY AND SO SCARED ON A DAILY BASIS. THERE WERE NO CONSEQUENCES WHAT SO EVER FOR THE ACTS OF VIOLENCE DONE TO ME BY OTHERS AT CENTRAL STATE HOSPITAL. I GREW UP IN A FAMILY THAT WAS NEVER EXPOSED TO THIS KIND OF VIOLENCE. I HAD MET EVERY PRESIDENT OF THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA FROM NIXON WITH THE EXCEPTION OF OBAMA. I HAD BEEN TO THE WHITE HOUSE MORE THAN MOST PEOPLE VISIT THEIR IN-LAWS. I WAS THE SMALLEST WOMAN IN CENTRAL STATE HOSPITAL AND SPENT ALL MY TIME DOING WORD FINDS AND JUST MINDING MY OWN BUSINESS. MY EYE WAS PRACTICALLY CLOSED SHUT AFTER THE 7TH ATTACK BY ONE OF THE CRIMINALLY INSANE PATIENTS BEING HELD THERE ALONG WITH ME. I WAS GIVEN A TREATMENT TEAM, CONSISTING OF A PSYCHIATRIST AND A PSYCHOLOGIST. THE PSYCHIATRIST WAS ON A CONFERENCE CALL WITH LOUDON COUNTIES FORENSIC PSYCHOLOGIST AND EXPLAINED TO HER WITH ME PRESENT, THAT HE SAW NO SYMPTOMS OF THE MENTAL ILLNESS DIAGNOSIS, BI-POLAR THAT LOUDON COUNTY HAD PLACED UPON ME 8 MONTHS EARLIER BEFORE SENDING ME TO CENTRAL STATE HOSPITAL. I WAS THEN PICKED UP BY THE DEPUTIES OF LOUDON COUNTY TO APPEAR ONCE AGAIN BEFORE THE JUDGE. I SHOULD HAVE IMMEDIATELY BEEN RELEASED BY THE JUDGE IN THE LOUDON COUNTY COURTROOM WHEN I WAS FOUND TO HAVE NO MENTAL ILLNESS. I HAD NEVER IN MY 50 YEARS PRIOR TO MY ARREST, EVER BEEN DIAGNOSED WITH A MENTAL ILLNESS. TO THIS DAY ANY AND ALL PEOPLE WHO KNOW ME WELL WOULD NEVER, EVER SAY THERE WAS ANYTHING WRONG OR CRAZY GOING ON WITH MY MENTAL HEALTH. THIS SHOULD HAVE CONSTITUTED AN IMMEDIATE RELEASE THROUGH THE LOUDON COUNTY COURT SYSTEM. INSTEAD, THE JUDGE SENT ME TO ANOTHER EXTREMELY DANGEROUS ENVIRONMENT AS A MATTER OF FACT, THE MOST DANGEROUS ENVIRONMENT IN NORTHERN VIRGINIA. IT WAS A PSYCHIATRIC HOSPITAL NAMED, “NORTHERN VIRGINIA MENTAL HEALTH INSTITUTE.” THERE I WAS HELD WITH SO MANY MURDERERS, ARSONISTS, PEDOPHILES ETC. IN THE COURT ROOM AFTER A 16 MONTH HOLD ON MY LIFE WITHOUT MY FREEDOM BY THE JUDGE IN LOUDON COUNTY I WAS SENT TO, “NVMHI” AND UPON ENTRY I WAS NOW GIVEN, DIAGNOSIS NUMBER 2. “PTSD.” AFTER BEING HELD FOR ANOTHER 8 MONTHS IN THIS INSTITUTE, I CONTACTED THE PATIENTS ADVOCATE WHO ASSURED ME I COULD BE EVALUATED BY THE MEDICAL DIRECTOR OF THE INSTITUTE TO GET AWAY FROM WHAT I CONSIDERED TO BE A, “QUACK” FOR HE HAD PLACED ME ON A DRUG THAT I HAD NO CHOICE BUT TO TAKE BECAUSE HE SAID THE JUDGE WOULD NOT RELEASE ME WITHOUT BEING ON MEDICATION. WELL I DID MY OWN RESEARCH AND FOUND WHEN YOU GIVW A SANE PERSON MEDICATION UNNECESSARILY, IT CAN LITERALLY CAUSE BRAIN DAMAGE. THE MEDICAL DIRECTOR TOOK THE QUACKS DIAGNOSIS OFF MY HEAD AND I WAS ALSO GIVEN A NEW DOCTOR. A FEMALE THIS TIME WHO AFTER THE PTSD DIAGNOSIS WAS REMOVED FROM MY CHART THEY HAD TO PLACE ANOTHER DIAGNOSIS ON ME QUICKLY IN ORDER TO CONTINUE TO HOLD ME IN THEIR INSTITUTE. I WAS HELD FOR 2 YEARS AND 8 MONTHS IN THIS EXTREMELY DANGEROUS AND FILTHY ENVIRONMENT. I WAS PLACED ON MORE ANTIBIOTICS IN A 2 YEAR PERIOD THAN EVER BEFORE IN MY ENTIRE 50 YEARS PRIOR TO BEING COMMITTED TO A PSYCHIATRIC INSTITUTE UNJUSTLY. MY FATHER PASSED AWAY WHILE I WAS HELD AT THIS INSTITUTE AND LIKE THE PASSING OF MY MOTHER I WAS NOT EVEN ALLOWED TO GO TO MY FATHER’S  FUNERAL WHERE HE WAS GIVEN A “21 GUN SALUTE.”I WAS HIS FAVORITE AND HE WAS MY WHOLE WORLD. I ONLY GOT TO SEE MY FATHER TWICE IN 2 YRS AND 5 MONTHS BEFORE HE, LIKE MY MOTHER HAD PASSED AWAY. I SUFFERED MORE THAN ANY HUMAN BEING SHOULD EVER HAVE HAD TO SUFFER. THE DEVASTATION AND LOSS OF MY PARENTS AND MY OVERALL FREEDOM WAS MORE SO UNBEARABLE.. I LAST REMEMBER MY FATHER SAYING THAT LOUDON COUNTY HAD VIOLATED EVERY ONE OF MY CONSTITUTIONAL RIGHTS. THE LIST OF PERSONAL INJURIES CAUSED TO ME THROUGHOUT THE 4 YEARS I WAS HELD BY THE STATE OF VIRGINIA AND THE COUNTY OF LOUDON IS SO GREAT THAT I WOULD RATHER SHARE WITH YOU IN INCREMENTS AT A LATER DATE. I NEED EVERYONE WHO READS MY BLOG TO PLEASE UNDERSTAND THAT MY PAIN AND SUFFERING THROUGH THE WORST KIND OF CRUEL AND UNUSUAL PUNISHMENT IS SO GREAT THAT THE STRESS AND ANXIETY THAT IT PLACES ON MY PSYCHE, IS SO GREAT I CAN ONLY PRAY THAT EVERYONE WHO READS ALL I HAVE WRITTEN SO FAR CAN BARE WITH ME BECAUSE ALL THAT I AM BLOGGING AT THIS TIME IS JUST THE, “TIP OF THE ICEBERG.”THERE IS SO MUCH PAIN INSIDE OF ME THAT I CAN ONLY GET SO MUCH OUT AT A TIME. MY INTENTIONS FOR EXPOSING MYSELF IN SUCH A WAY IS MOST BENEFICIAL TO ME IN TERMS OF THE HEALING I AM DEALING WITH IN ORDER TO SURVIVE SUCH A VIOLENT AND TORTUROUS 4 YEARS WITHOUT MY FREEDOM. I FILLED A COMPOSITION BOOK EVERY MONTH FOR 4 YEARS AND IN THOSE BOOKS ARE DETAILED ACCOUNTS OF EVERY PAINFUL DAY I WAS FORCED TO ENDURE WHILE SUFFERING WITHOUT THE LOVE OF MY FAMILY AND FRIENDS.  PLEASE DO NOT GRADE ME ON MY GRAMMAR FOR THIS WHOLE EXPERIENCE HAS COMPLETELY DRAINED ME EMOTIONALLY. THERE ARE TOO MANY INCIDENCES TO MENTION INVOLVING A REVOLVING DOOR OF COMPLETE INJUSTICE DONE TO ME ON A REGULAR BASIS OVER THE PAST 17  YEARS OF MY LIFE AFTER MAKING THE MOVE FROM FAIRFAX COUNTY, VA. TO LOUDON COUNTY, VA.