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littlemisslipbalm · 4 years ago

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“Harry’s stylist, right?”

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

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

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

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

part 2

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

One week later

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

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

“H?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Ow!”

“Oh my god!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What’s wrong?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Seriously, H?”

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

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

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

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

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

“Can’t it be both?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I like it…”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You’re Harry’s stylist, right?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Just a little for my taste.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Thank you.”

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

“Y/N, right!?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Heard you were talkin’ shit?”

Mitch quips, “Us? Never.”

Harry scoffs, “Come off it!”

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

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

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

“I wasn’t!”

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

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

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

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

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

“You did an amazing job,” Y/N said.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What happened to not drinking tonight?”

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

“So, Harry, care to explain?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“And on the face?”

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

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

“Lipstick?”

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

“It was only from-”

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

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

“I’m sorry?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I told you already. It’s fine.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

What are you wearing??

That cannot be Harry’s jacket Y/N

Seriously?

Please call me.

CALL ME. NOW.

- All from Jeff.

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

part 2

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austarus · 4 years ago

Text

Harry Wells x Reader Amending Past Actions

**A/N: The picture/edit/gif does not belong to me. It belongs to @moonymartell

*Set Post-s4 but before s6, with the revelation of Harry’s cube message that Cisco and Caitlin had found in s6. I think that makes sense. Anyway, just humor me ok? I miss my grumpy and soft scientist.

Word Count: 3350

“Dad, we can’t just let that meta get away with Syberon Labs’ technoscope.” Jesse spoke in a hushed manner as to not let other wandering ears to hear her their conversation. The undergrad had trailed right behind her father as the taller Wells made his way to his office. Harry pressed his thumb on the fingerprint scan against the wall beside his door, unlocking the system to reveal an intricate pass-code sequence as well. Harry mused to himself that it’s a miracle he managed to re-learn and memorize the security code. The dark-haired man had to ensure that no one except him, you, and Jesse were able to enter his area of isolation and Time Vault if there were to be maliciously rampant around the city like Zoom. The young speedster paused until they had fully entered the office and closed the door. The dimness of the room brightened up due to the motion-sensory had had installed years ago. “We have to let the board understand the amount of damage that meta can cause even if the tech isn’t linked to their powers.”

“Jesse, while I do appreciate that you keep me around for your meta-hero work, in this case my hands are tied. I can’t speak on behalf of the science anymore.” Harry replied as he pulled off his bag from his shoulder to set it beside his desk. Long legs moved to take a seat at his workspace, Harry unbuttoned the black buttons of his suit jacket. He had an earlier demonstration pitch to make with speaking to him in his ear for the science-y parts. The not-so-genius CEO inwardly sighed at the amount of proposals on his desks. “I’m not what I once was.”

“What if you could?”

Blue eyes ceased scanning the stack of papers he held in his hand. Harry gently laid them back down the cool glassy surface. “… What are you saying?”

Jesse took a step forward in front of her father’s desk, taking a breath in to resist the urge to accidentally speed-talk her lightbulb moment whenever she got excited. “What if we enhance your neural firing up to the intricate speed that it was once at in each your nervous cells? Therefore, amplifying your neural functions to compensate for cognition and analytical/systematic processing within certain parts of your brain. We’d also have to certify that other areas of your brain are also matching the same speeds before the Enlightenment accident so that we don’t get an overcompensation of neural stimulation. If we increase the firing rate to the adequate speed without causing your body to overstimulate or overwork itself biochemically then we should be able to get your mind back to what it once was. That means we’d also have to know your body’s precise neural chemical levels to see if we need to inject increments in order to compensate for the firing rate values while balancing the fact that we’d have to scan your brain for any traces of dark matter or sub-particles. I’m sure you’d documented your initial firing rate along everything else before you did the tests on the Cerebral inhibitor back on Earth-1.”

That’s my Jesse Quick. Harry had watched his daughter with wide eyes as she spoke confidently. Pride swelled in his chest even though he found himself nodding to the gibberish that came out of her mouth. I should have been able to understand all of that… “Honey.”

“Yeah?”

“I love you-

“-I love you too, dad-”

“-but, and I can’t believe I’m saying this- but in English, please.” This is probably how Joe feels every time Barry and the others spoke with me about science and physics and all that.

“We’re going to speed up your brain back to what it once was.”

“No.”

Jesse blinked at her father’s sudden response. “What? Why?”

Harry stammered before responding, running a hand through his unusually groomed hair. No longer unruly without the anxiety from problem-solving each meta incident or the next big bad. “I’m not- I can’t do that again. Something’s going to go wrong and… I can’t put you through that like I put (Y/N) and the Team. I lost myself, Jesse. I can’t go through all of that- that helplessness again.” Jesse watched her father with a pained expression before casting it downwards, the subtle guilt of not being at her father’s side when all that had gone down. I could have prevented his pain. Was the one thought that rang within the depths of her mind each day.

“Dad, I refuse to accept the fact that there’s nothing that we can do.”

“Jesse-”

“(Y/N) will even be here to monitor your neural and physiological vitals. She’ll be the green light if things go smoothly.”

“Jesse-”

“Just let me try. I can fix you.”

“Jesse!” Harry slammed a hand down on the desk, the harshness of the impact caused a picture frame to fall and shatter. The older Wells rubbed his face before massaging his temples. Don’t give me hope from what I had sorrowingly lost. “Stop, please. It’s not going to work. I’m fine with everything as it is now.”

“But are you content?” Jesse asked with pleading eyes. Harry looked up at his daughter before tilting his head off to the side. Finally, his gazed locked back on her.

“It’s better than being a blank slate or dead.”

“But are you content, dad?” Jesse asked once more, stepping over to pick up the fallen and cracked picture from. It had been of him and you and Team Flash last Christmas. His first Christmas with them. She handed her father the frame with a sigh. “I’ve seen you… stay up late at night wandering the labs, picking up your old notes, and trying to rework things at home until the early morning. There’s nothing wrong with wanting your intelligence back.”

“My intelligence doesn’t define me, Jesse. You need to understand that. I’m balanced now, that’s good enough for me.” Is it though?

“It doesn’t define you, but it’s something you value, dad. You’re my dad. My badass dad, who fought in the War of the Americas. Who jumped breaches to find a way to save me from Zoom while trying to keep the others safe by dropping hints. Who’s stubborn and prickly but ended up making friends on Earth-1 that you now consider family more than ever and met the one other person you’d sacrifice everything in life for. (Y/N). Your skill, intelligence, and determination brought you up to that point. Brains and brawns always win the fight, brawns can’t do it alone. I just-I just want to make you happy.”

“…”

“Dad, do you trust me?”

“You know I do, Jesse.”

“Then let me try.”

“Okay,” Harry grumbled as he leaned back and cracked his stiff neck, he adorned a serious expression on his face. “But we keep this between us. I’m already receiving backlash from your hero group as it is just being present at my own Labs.”

“Don’t worry about them. Oh, and one thing.”

“Hm?”

“Did you tell Cisco and (Y/N) about my team?”

“Yes?”

“Did Cisco come up with a name? Did (Y/N) approve?”

“Are you serious?”

“Yeah! So did they?”

“He might have rattled off a few names. One of them was probably Jesse and the Quicksters.”

“Not bad, I like it.”

“Don’t get any ideas.” Harry lightly scolded Jesse, who cheekily grinned at him.

“I won’t, I won’t,” the young speedster observed her father carefully as he moved past her to a desk space. Unlocking it, the Earth-2 Wells pulled out various notes and finals a blueprint model. Jesse padded over to stand across her father as she eyed the papers. “What’s this?”

“These,” Harry started, “are all the notes and things I had with me about the Cerebral Inhibitor. The blueprints are of mine and Cisco’s as well as the ones I snagged from Marlize after she had left the labs, who made readjustments to regain my intelligence.”

Jesse had already picked up the up-to-date notes by Marlize then the blueprints. She wasn’t even going to ask her father why he even had those in his possession because some part of her felt that he had been contemplating this too. “This is some A-class sloppy work, no wonder you weren’t able to fully get everything back.”

“Think you can outdo her.” Harry quirked a playful eyebrow at his daughter, who only returned the gesture. Jesse’s mind already had been making mental notes on the kinds of improvements that needed to be done.

“Hell yeah I can. I’m a Wells after all.” The speedster grinned up at her father, taking a seat on a spare chair and already sifting through the baroque equations and mathematical language.

Nothing lifted Harry’s spirits more than having his daughter beside him, their relation had been sewn back together. Harry left his daughter to jot down and hypothesize the necessary medications needed. Knowing my daughter, she’ll want to create the Cerebral Inhibitor from scratch. Harry took a seat at his desk once more, taking up paper after paper and analyzing the business proposals sent in. He may not have his intelligence anymore, but that does not necessarily mean he can’t run the business side of STAR Labs. Jesse was currently managing the science and analytical research side. But is this really going to work?

***

Harry covered his yawn as he set down the paper packet and pen in hand. Glancing over, he noticed that he had been working away for nearly 3 hours. The war veteran reclined back on his comfy leather chair as he stretched his limbs. His eyes wondered over to Jesse hunched over, speedily working through the notes as sounds of furious scribbling filled the silent void of the office today. With every intention of getting up and taking a walk through the Labs to get the blood flowing, Harry stood up and loosened his collar.

Blue eyes widened as a breach opened. Jesse’s ears had instantly perked up and, like the speedster she is, she raced to be beside her father in a defensive position. Spluttering sounds emitted from the breach as a very disoriented Wolfgang Wells stumbled out and onto the ground. Jesse looked thoroughly confused as did Harry. The doppelganger cowered on the ground in fear as more spluttering sounds signaled another emerging traveler. Harry watched you pop out of the breach.

“Hi,” You sent a friendly wave to your boyfriend and his daughter along with a cute, innocent-looking smile.

“(Y/N)?”

“One sec,” you held out a hand to them before yanking Wolfgang up by the back of his collar with all your might. Instantaneously, you twisted the German man’s arm back tightly behind him and locked Wolfgang in place adorning a threating sort of smile on your face. Harry blinked a few times as to what the hell was going on while Jesse crossed her arms and observed in amusement much to Wolfgang’s chagrin. “Ok, so let’s try this again. What do we saw when we’re wrong about judging others and their misfortune?”

Wolfgang sneered at you when he had tilted his head make eye contact with you, “You’re joking, rechts?” Your smile dropped astonishingly at his response. A darker look in your eyes as you kicked the back of his knee causing the older man to yelp and fall to bend uncomfortably. Harry ‘tch’ed and winced at what he witnessed. Jesse covered her mouth and hid her laughs at your chosen course of action. “It was wrong for me to do that.” Sie wird mich töten!

“And?”

“Und vhat?” You kick the back of his other knee and dug your fingers in the pressure point of his shoulder muscle, allowing the man to succumb on the ground on his knees. He groaned out in pain. “Und I’m sorry for kicking you out of the Council.”

“What. Else.”

“I shouldn’t have laughed at your face for losing your intelligence. It was a horrible thing for me to do. Können Sie mich jetzt gehen lassen?” Bitte, erbarme dich.

“Now that wasn’t so hard, was it?” You grinned a bit sadistically at him, letting him go and pulling the Breach Extrapolator. Once it was open you grabbed the flinching man and shoved him back into the breach to his Earth.

You turned around and your sweet disposition had returned, sunshine and all. As if the menacing persona you had adorned vanished in a matter of seconds when that breach had closed. Throughout the entire exchange Jesse had spared a glance at her father to literally see him making heart eyes at you and a gentle smile on his face. Harry won’t even deny that your entire gesture had warmed his heart with one thought running through his mind. That’s my wife. That you had gone through the trouble to do all of that for him. Harry’s twinkling eyes never left you and Jesse just rolled her eyes at her dorky father. A smirk had bewitched its way onto his face as he stepped away from his daughter and towards you. You felt heat crawl its way to your cheeks at the hidden look behind his eyes. His arms instantly wrapped around you, holding you tightly to himself as you reciprocated the gesture of affection. You kissed the side of his head, your insides ballooning to maximum capacity.

Pulling away, Harry couldn’t help but tease you, “To what do I owe the great pleasure of Persephone coming all this way to visit my humble abode.”

“I’m so telling Cisco that you’re using his nerdy mythology reference for us.”

“Humor me this one time, will you?”

“You do know that Persephone means Destroyer of Light, right?” You gave him a quirky look, your arms loosely wrapped around him.

“I know, but it seems like the Destroyer of Light has a particular soft spot for a man like me.” Harry just wiggled his eyebrows at you causing the both of you to giggle like dorks. You leaned up and rubbed your nose with his.

“Ugh, you guys are gross. Sickeningly cute, but still gross. Just kiss already so I can give hugs.” Jesse pipped up with a gagging expression. Harry chuckled with pink cheeks and leaned down for a quick kiss, much to your disappointment before Jesse shoved her father away from you. You gave the young speedster the biggest of hugs because you truly did miss her presence and enthusiasm. “(Y/N), that was badass. I didn’t know you could even get that angry. And like, not just anger that my dad normally has when he gets frustrated that something’s not working- silent anger. I’ve been told that’s the worst and most malevolent kind of anger.”

You rubbed the back of your neck when the both of you had turned away, a sheepish laugh falling off your lips. Music to Harry’s ears obviously. “It usually takes a lot to get me that made.”

“Remind me to never get on your bad side. I may be a speedster and everything, but ‘hell hath no wrath than a woman scorned’.”

“I don’t think that’s really possible for you to do, Jesse.”

“Jesse?” Harry interrupted before the speedster could go on rattling off, wrapping an arm around your shoulder.

“Yeah?” Her father gave her a pointed look before signaling with his head simultaneously towards the direction of the door. “Right, yes. I have to go… review a few projects for class. 3 Majors and all- Anyway don’t do anything I wouldn’t do and always use protection kids-” You blinked, and Jesse was gone in a flash of yellow-green lightning. Your cheeks as well as Harry’s lit up at her last statement before she left the office.

“Man, I really wish I had superspeed,” you sighed at her rushed exit, leaning into Harry’s side. He rubbed your arm gingerly.

“Really?”

“Well yeah, think of all the things Barry normally gets done.”

“Yet, he still manages to get his ass handed to him by metas. Every time.”

“True.”

You moved your gaze up and locked eyes with those beautiful azure ones. “You breached over just in time.” Harry took your hand gently and brought you over to the couch. The dark-haired man dimmed the lights in the room, mentally knowing that he deserves a break right now and obviously he wasn’t going to waste time working when you’re currently in the same vicinity as him. You sat close to one another, just automatically cuddling together in each other’s arms on the couch-bed. Harry took one of your hands once more and kissed the back of it before moving to peck each fingertip on your hands. You raked your teeth over your bottom lip as you eyed him with a half-lidded gaze. “We need to talk, babe.” He whispered softly.

“You think so? If anything, I also think I came at the right time. I actually get to see you in a suit again.”

Harry paused with a confused look. “You don’t like my usual casual look.”

“No, I do. I love it, really. I’m just…”

“Just?”

“Really I think you’re sexy in a suit but in reality, you’re handsome in literally anything you wear especially when you roll up your sleeves when you work on something and all that jazz.”

Harry blinked a couple of times, trying to process your rapid-fire rambling response. A soft smile graced his face and he shook his head at you. “I assume that my suit shirts will also be on the list of things you steal from me this time around before leaving to Earth-1.”

“I don’t steal. I borrow.”

“Uh huh. Then can you return those sweaters that you borrowed.”

“That depends, will you actually be sleeping over at my place this time around?”

“Well, that depends on what’s in it for me.”

You kissed Harry’s nose before winking at him. “I was thinking of cooking dinner together. Jesse included as well and- I don’t know- go out for a walk in the city and then we can come back home and do stuff…”

“Do stuff?”

You nodded shyly under his smug face, before switching the conversation. “What did you want to talk about?”

“Jesse believes she can fully restore my intelligence. Not just basic necessities to be a functioning and thinking human being.” Harry ran his fingers through your hair. Confusion crossed your features momentarily as you pulled back to fully look at your boyfriend. You opened your mouth, but Harry beat you to it. “Don’t ask me about the details but- She thinks she can speed up my brain to properly retain its normal function. Before Devoe…” Harry trailed off and you saw the pain flash through his eyes.

You took in a breath and contemplated your next words. “If this is what you want, then I will be here. Every step of the way. If Marlize couldn’t do it, Jesse can.”

“You think so?”

“I know so. I believe in Jesse, she’s your daughter after all. Brilliance, character, and tenacity.”

His strong jaw had softened as his lips turned up into a beautiful smile with mesmerizing blue eyes. The sight caused your heart to beat harder in your chest. “You really are the Persephone to my Hades.” You felt jittery under his heated gaze.

“Harry, I would eat as many pomegranates just to stay by your side, oh great kind of the Underworld.”

“Is that your way of saying ‘yes’ if I were to propose?”

You held your breath in the tender moment before breathing out your response. “Yes.”

Blue eyes sparkled at your response. Harry peppered your face with kisses as giggles left your lips and small acts of adoration were exchanged. “Then as long as you’re in my life, I will be content.” You cupped his face and planted a sweet kiss on his anticipating lips. Harry smiled against your mouth and nipped gently at your lips. The tiny dark velvet box didn’t seem to bear as much weight as it initially had a few months ago in Harry’s pocket anymore.

German Translation:

Rechts?- Right?

Sie wird mich töten - She is going to kill me!

Bitte, erbarme dich. – Please, have mercy

191 notes · View notes

maple-writes · 4 years ago

Text

Dissidia March 2021: Week One

Big thanks to @onmywaytobe for sharing Leo with me for this! I’m really excited to keep writing these two together :D

and thanks @dissidia-writeblr for hosting again!

the intro got kind of long but I was having a good time so it stays like this lol

###

Warren hit send on their email and quietly hoped the recipient would actually read everything this time before asking another question they shouldn’t have to answer again. At least that was the last they needed to respond to for now. They double checked though, just in case they missed anything from an order, an information request, requests for meetings, or sometimes the odd message sent to the completely wrong email address.

They reached for their near-empty travel mug and downed the last of the coffee as they crossed off email replies from the to-do list they’d drawn up first thing in the morning. Today it wasn’t as long as it could be, but would still be more than long enough to keep them busy until the end of the workday. After that… They smiled to themself as they turned back to the computer screen. The woman at the store tipped them off the other day that pears would probably be on sale today. Older style pears hadn’t been on sale in a long time especially since newer hybrids started coming out a few years ago. The new ones were sweeter, softer, and lacked that weird texture if picked too late, but there was something about the older pears. The new ones were almost too sweet, too soft. They still had some wine from last night too that might go well with it after dinner.

The click of short heels echoing down the hall brought Warren back from thinking about fruit and wine a moment before Indigo poked her head into their office. Her opalescent white hair pulled back in a low pony-tail suggested she was here to check up on the labs. When the light hit just right, the hollow, prismatic strands refracted subtle orange, blue, and even hints of green. Right, it was Wednesday, she usually came in on Wednesdays.

When she noticed Warren was in, she stepped in with a polite nod. “Any word from the Norris Lab?”

Warren smiled. “Yes, actually.” They leaned forward, pulling up the documents on their computer. “I spoke with one of their reps today, and honestly,” they sighed, one hand up and massaging the side of their head at the memory of that agonizingly long phone call, “it was like pulling teeth but I convinced her to send over their manuscripts. I’ve also set up a meeting with a member of their team for the twenty-seventh.”

“Well done Warren,” Indigo purred. She rested her hand on their desk and leaned forward as Warren turned the screen to show her the documents. The way her eyes flickered over the words and tables she seemed to know better than them whatever it was this research was about on anything more than an abstract level. “Oh that’s perfect.” She glanced down at them. “Could you send those files to me and print off a copy of each when you get the chance?”

She’d probably want an extra copy too, one for them to file away with the other hard-copy records. Warren nodded and jotted down a note for later. “Can do.” Paper records and files hadn’t been mandated for decades now but Indigo usually insisted on physically backing up important files. “Anything else?”

“Not at the moment.” She straightened up with a smile, a genuine one rather than the ones they’d seen her give at events and meetings with people she had to pretend to like. “Thanks Warren.” She started to turn, but seemed to remember something. “Actually, if you could do me a favor, I need something confidential ordered along with this week’s deliveries. I’ll send you the info by the end of the day.”

Warren made another note, nodding down at their paper pad. “I’ll see what I can do.” This wouldn’t be the first time she’d asked something off the record like this, but with her position she was bound to have some projects that weren’t ready for public attention yet.

She thanked them, left, and Warren turned back to their computer to update their to-do list. They were already planning on taking a trip down the hall for the printer for some labels so adding a couple copies of the manuscripts Indigo wanted probably wouldn’t take too much longer. As much as her insistence on physical backup copies filed away just in case was a bit of a pain sometimes, it was nothing compared to what some of their other coworkers wanted them to do. Some of the ‘great ideas’ some of them came up with were nothing more than a logistical nightmare, and some of the clerical work they had at the end of the week was usually tedious at best.

A couple of documents proofread later, Warren sent the files to the print server and got up with a stretch cracking some of the little joints in their shoulders. On the way out of their office, they plucked their lanyard with their ID and key card with an outdated photo and a little sticker label with they/them stuck to the casing, draping it around their neck as they stepped into the hall. The one time they’d decided to just stick it in their pocket it fell out and they hadn’t noticed until they found themself locked out of the building in the middle of winter, banging on the door until someone heard. Not doing that again.

They stopped at the coffee maker along the way, leaning against the counter as the single-serve pod brewed and trickled into their travel mug. It was old, the mug, paint starting to chip off around the top and bottom, but it was a gift from years ago and it still worked well enough so why replace it?

Taking a sip of their fresh coffee, Warren reached the print room. They raised their key-card to the scanner, pausing as it beeped and the light turned green. Years ago when they’d started here someone had explained why the print room was locked like this, something about some very fancy and expensive kinds of machines that they’d never had any use for in their work. They dropped their card to dangle around their neck again and opened the door.

This was not the print room.

Warren froze, wind toying with their ruby hair and tugging at the lanyard around their neck. Grasses brushed against the cuffs of their pants and white clouds drifted across the open, unimpeded sky. The air carried the fresh scent of plants and unfamiliar toiled soil. An unfamiliar city rose in the distance behind fields filled with crops and farmers and uniformed people patrolling the planted plots.

This was not the print room, not even close. Warren broke the ice holding them ridged to glance back over their shoulder, twisting to try and find the door. But there was nothing. It was gone. Nothing but more fields and more farms and more farmers and more uniformed personnel. Soldiers maybe? But what were they doing here? They frowned. Better question: what was here?

Someone standing nearby looking nearly as lost as Warren caught their eye. Dressed different from the other farmers and soldiers he probably wasn’t from around here. Although, Warren really couldn’t tell where he might have been from either. He had a very old-timey look, plain dark skin and darker hair with eyes to match. Maybe he came from some remote town in the middle of nowhere, but even then… Odd that nowhere in his ancestry there’d been anything altered to pass down. Still though, he was far more familiar than the people working around them in the farms.

Warren turned towards the stranger with a deep breath. “Hey,” they paused a heartbeat as he turned towards them, “uh, do you know what’s going on?”

The dark-hard main just shrugged and muttered something about all of this just being a weird dream.

A dream? Warren scrunched their eyebrows and took a sip of their still nearly too-hot coffee. Strange. They didn’t remember going to sleep. They woke up like usual, had breakfast like usual, got dressed like usual and as far as they knew had been at work for a couple hours already. Were their dreams really that boring? They frowned. If this were a dream then how come they could still taste? At the same time though, it wasn’t like this made any sense either.

Dream or not, this was the only vaguely familiar-looking person anywhere in this field and he looked almost as confused as they did. They turned back towards him. “I’m Warren, by the way.” It was probably only polite to tell him their name.

The mysterious stranger nodded once. “Leo.” He paused, stealing a glance, then added, “nice hair.”

Hair? He liked their hair? “Oh, thanks.” Warren flustered. “I just kind of brushed it this morning and I guess it’s working out for me today.” Okay, stop talking. They cut themselves off with a very long sip of coffee. Leo just said he liked their hair no need to ramble on and on even if nerves prickled all the way up and down their body.

The sun shone down warm on their shoulders, the air fresh with plants. If this really was a dream maybe it wouldn’t be so bad as long as they were actually asleep and not collapsed and dying on the copy room floor. They frowned. No one really went that way unless that had to, and most people in the office dealt exclusively with digital files. Hell, Warren might have been only one of a handful of people who even knew how to use some of the older model machines.

Were they… Dead?

No, no way. They’d been fine all day why would they be dead now? Leo’s idea of a dream sounded much nicer. Warren sighed and squinted against the sun, staring over the sunny fields. This time their eyes settled on one figure walking between the plots in their direction.

They glanced at Leo. “Do you think that guy’s coming for us?”

“Looks like it.”

Warren shifted from side to side on the soft grass and tightly gripped their mug as nerves built. No question now, the new stranger was headed straight for the two of them. Warren tried to look away, at anything else. They didn’t want to look like they’d noticed, didn’t want to draw his attention more than they already had.

But the stranger wasn’t swayed, stopping in front of the both of them with a bow and a smile. “You two must be so confused.” He said. “My name is Sichoris, and I work for one of the leaders of Ritania.”

He gestured to the city towering behind the farms. Ritania? Warren’s head spun. Sure it’d been a long time since they’d looked at a map or a chart or anything, but they’d sure as Hell never heard of Ritania.

Sichoris kept talking. “If you would follow me, I can explain everything along the way.”

Without waiting for a reply, he turned and started back the way he came. Warren hesitated, but only a moment. Standing around in a field wouldn’t get them anywhere and if Sichoris really did work for some leader maybe it wouldn’t be so bad. As false-faced and draining some of the officials they’d had to interact with every now and then were, it wasn’t like any were usually cruel towards them. At worst a little demanding with no idea how long it actually took them to do the work they wanted but not horrible.

With a deep breath Warren unstuck their legs and followed Sichoris towards the city but paused when Leo didn’t move. He still stood, staring glass-eyed up at the unfamiliar city. Was he just going to stand there? What was he waiting for?

“Hey,” Warren called, catching his attention. “Are you coming?”

Leo glanced between them and Sichoris already paces ahead, then seemed to decide following along would be the best bet. Walking just behind Warren’s shoulder, his eyes wandered, and he reacted strange as if in a dream. Which maybe that made sense, but maybe not. But it wasn’t like they had any kind of better answer up their sleeve.

Some of the farmers looked up as they passed, watching curiously before getting back to their work. Some of the soldiers—they looked like soldiers anyway—did the same. No one looked anything like what they were used to, and they couldn’t help but hunch in on themself just a little. They stood out here, especially the way the sun caught the iridescent structures in their hair, shimmering from red to faint violet and blue where the sun hit just right. As much as they weren’t a farmer either, they couldn’t begin to recognize what exactly grew in the fields, or even why they might have been using so many open air fields like this either.

Warren took another sip of coffee and stole a glance at Leo. So far the only thing they knew were his and Sichoris’ names, and at least Leo seemed to be in the same kind of disbelief as they were. He seemed trustworthy enough. Even if he didn’t seem one for talking, at least they weren’t completely alone.

#dissidia march 2021 #they're really just sitting at work thinking about how excited they are to eat pears after work #sometimes its like that #warren #indigo

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2018shawn · 5 years ago

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prohibited | th x oc

If you grab a dictionary and look up the word ‘inconvenience’,

you’ll find Tom Holland’s name printed in huge, bold letters.

a/n: I would like to start by saying tysm to @hollandstom for the first amazing most lovely feedback on the intro but ty all SO much for the love 🥰 I hope this lives up to expectations and it’s a bit EHH until we get into it but yoooo let’s enjoy the calm before the storm shall we ..... also on another note, I obviously do not know how contracts work although I do know they can be hella intense and I'm only using Sony as a fictional base for this fic. nothing I say resembles real life oK fanFICTION

warnings: possibly some swearing????

word count: 3.7k

previous: read the intro here

⌜one⌟

Evie stood behind her desk, hands on hips in the most defeated manner, asking herself mentally where she should begin. As quick as things came to her mind, they went again, leaving her to do nothing but sigh and slump into her leather, office chair. Pull yourself together, Evie Jones, she thought to herself and she wasn’t actually entire sure she hadn't said it aloud. Her mind wandered back to ten minutes earlier, and how she felt like she had a pair of eyes burning into her at all times. It made her shift awkwardly in her converse, mumbling some stupid excuse to be able to leave the room and come back to the safety of her own office.

The excuse was not a lie, Evie thought, because she really did have to get this contract in full swing - if she had learnt who Spiderman was, the whole world would soon know. Of course they wouldn't know through her - she was pretty sure she’d get eliminated of the face of the earth if she shard half the stuff she’d ever learnt whilst working at SPE. In reality, she was a model employee; she gave her life to the company, she’d lost relationships over the company, she’d even lost friends over the company but now she looks back at it, if they didn’t understand then they didn't really count. Ironically, in Evie’s own contract of work, she is not to discuss any internal information with anyone outside of the company. She wasn’t even really supposed to discuss internal information with anyone inside the company if she could help it. Especially not to Lindsay on 6th floor.

She pulled up her draft contracts folder on her huge Mac screen, her finger tapping away on the mouse like she was a robot on steroids, because she could find her files in her sleep. She could see the usual workers passing by her office through the large glass wall that overlooked the main floor, although she tried not to distract herself from the task she’d set out to do. She imagined that Paris was still in the conference room, spilling her usual word vomit with Miles laughing along beside her like the dangerous duo they were. She felt bad for leaving, really, even Michael insisted she stay and celebrate the exciting news, telling her that the contract stuff would still be there in the morning. Evie knew, of course, that if the contract stuff wasn't on his desk by 9am sharpish, she’d have the day from hell and he’d be nagging at her all day long. She would also officially kiss goodbye to her weekend.

A tap on her door prised her eyes away from her screen, her pen dangling from her mouth like it always would be. She froze when she looked through the clear glass wall, instantly recognising the navy blue shirt and the body that it adorned. “is he lost? what did I do? what has Paris said now?” were just some of the brief thoughts that flowed through her mind as she wheeled back in her chair, preparing herself to stand. Her fingers smoothed over her pastel yellow outfit as she walked over to the door, putting on her best business smile in an attempt to try cover her nerves.

Tom had forgotten in ten minutes just how incredibly beautiful she was. He noticed how she had a pen hanging from her mouth like she had done in the conference room. It also made him notice how perfectly white her teeth were and he questioned if she was the movie star. “Mr Holland, how can I help?” She spoke more confidently than she felt, that was for sure. He wouldn’t have ever guessed that she had butterflies in her stomach, times one thousand, and was only holding onto the door because her legs felt like jelly.

“You, uh, disappeared, just wanted to make sure you was okay?” In all honesty, he had no idea what he was going to say until he opened his mouth. He'd muttered to himself the whole journey from the conference room, repeating all the different ways you can say hello, but when he starting saying hola and bonjour to himself, he called it quits and decided to just go with whatever fell from his mouth - which for Tom, was always a risky move.

If Evie didn’t think her heart could beat any faster, she was wrong. “That’s so kind thank you,” play it cool, Evie, play. it. cool. “I’m so fine though, thank you, I just have to get started on some stuff.”

Toms lips formed into the shape of an ‘o’ and he wondered if he looked like a 100% certified loser, or just 75% loser and 25% nice guy. Evie thought he was 200% adorable. “Oh okay, great. I mean not great about the work, but, great that you’re okay.” He shuffled awkwardly, squinting his eyes shut and correcting himself throughout the sentence.

Evie giggled innocently and he didn’t doubt for one second that it was the nicest sound he’d ever heard. “Yeah, apparently some big ass movie star needs some very important contracts drafting up.”

He scoffed, “God, those movie stars sure do sound awful.” She loved how his cheeks grew as he smiled, flashing what she thought to be a perfect smile. They’d have to battle it out for that crown at a later date. “Let me know if there's anything you need, anything at all.”

“Thank you, Mr Holland. I’m sure we’ll be contacting you through the company more than enough times.” She didn’t know if she should invite him into her office, but she decided against it; she couldn’t have speculations about Tom Holland coming into her office just like Tom Hardy followed Lindsay into the ladies toilets.

“Please, just call me Tom. Mr Holland sounds so...” He pulled his lips to the side as he thought of a description, “dad.”

His ears filled yet again with the sound of her contagious laugh, making his heart beat in a way he’d never experienced before. He wanted her to invite him in, but after already hunting down her office - he swears he just so happened to walk past - he didn't want to come of a total creep. “Okay, Tom. I’ll be sure to get in contact with your team if I need anything.”

“Do you have a pen and paper?” He didn’t even think as the words came out his mouth, they just came.

“Uh...” She was confused, sure, but who was she to reject someones orders? I mean, technically she kinda works for him too now. “Sure, come in.” She opened the door wider before turning to return to her desk, leaving Tom in the doorway, awkwardly following her in like he was entering his first ever girlfriend’s bedroom. Oh how he wishes it was her bedroom.

Evie grabbed the note block she kept next to her office phone, mentally reminding herself to get a new one from the supply cupboard because she was almost out of pages, and pushed it towards Tom. She also grabbed a pen from the pot, making sure to pick one she hadn’t almost chewed the end off because that would just be pure embarrassment. She tried not to stare at him, biting the inside of her cheek as she tried focusing on her computer screen instead. All she was met with was his name typed up in bold letters anyway - which is just how far she’d got with the contract, so she wasn’t escaping him even if she tried.

Tom stuck his tongue out in habit as he scribbled onto the pad, finally ripping off the top page and returning the ink pen back to the pen pot. “Let’s not bother going through my team, I live with my assistant so it’s probably just as easy to call me” he began, handing over the small, square piece of paper and she took it, eyes furrowing as her eyes wandered over his scribbled writing, a line of numbers joining together.

“Mr- Tom. Tom.” She repeated, fumbling her words and palms getting sweaty. “This is a lovely thought, but I can’t give my number away to clients, it’s a breach of-”

“There's our movie star!” Michael’s voice boomed through the entire floor, both Evie and Tom’s heads turning to face where he was walking up to Evie’s office and she thought she might as well pack her belongings now.

Tom turned back to Evie before Michael could enter the room, lowering his tone and volume of voice as he spoke again. “You’re not giving me your number, I'm giving you mine.” Evie shoved the paper into her desk drawer as Michael got closer, knowing she’d be straight out the door if there was any suspicion of inappropriate behaviour between her and said client. Tom turned back towards her boss flashing an innocent smile that everyone knew could get him out of anything, “I was just asking Evie for directions to the bathroom. That champagne...” he laughed, waving his hand from his chest and flicking it down to his legs to signal it had gone straight through him. Damn, he is a good actor, she thought. Before he fully left the room, he rolled his eyes at Michael, which only made Evie laugh under her breath knowing first hand how much her boss could over do his conversations. She returned to her buttoned leather chair, pulling herself back up to the desk and mentally preparing herself to write more official documentation. Tom turned to her one last time before leaving the room, stopping at the doorway for a brief moment allowing Michael to go storming ahead of him. As they met eye contact for the final time that day, she smiled and he returned the expression, letting his eye drop into a smooth wink before vanishing from her view and if there was a brown paper bag in her desk drawer she’d be using it right now to try and help her from hyperventilating.

Friday, 9AM, the pre-contract contract was on Michael Stud’s desk and Evie hoped her tired eyes didn’t give away the fact that she’d worked hard all night trying to piece it together. She says she was working hard, but in reality, she couldn’t help but google the handsome man she was actually writing about. When she found herself scrolling through his brothers’ instagram pages, only clicking on the pictures where Tom could be seen, she decided she needed to snap herself out of it and threw her phone across her bed, trying to resist the urge to pick it up for the rest of the night.

Friday, 9AM, across London City, Tom was just awaking in his own home, trudging downstairs and finding Harrison sat at the table with a bowl of coco pops and a warm cup of coffee. His mind was running with thoughts and he’d be lying if he said he hasn’t been checking his phone more than normal to see if Evie had taken up his offer of getting in contact. He hopes he wasn’t too pushy but he also hopes he wasn’t too formal, because he sucked ass at letting girls know he’s into them. He knew, of course, it was a cheeky move of him to slide her his number, but in the 2 minutes he'd spent talking to her in that conference room, he already trusted her more that most business persons he’d ever met. And that meant a lot to him.

He poured himself a tea, coffee not really his first choice of hot drink, because the brit in him screamed out treason. His phone lay face down on the table, opposite from where Harrison sat, scrolling though his own device, most probably checking what’s new on instagram. Tom’s phone pinged with a message tone and before Harrison could even raise his eyes, Tom was pacing over and picking up the cell, sighing and throwing it back down again when it wasn't an unknown number and just another one of his brothers pestering him about going golfing. “Jheeeez,” Harrison exhaled, “I know you’re a big superhero now an’ all that but we can’t be buying you new phones every time some girl hasn’t text you.”

Tom rolled his eyes, slumping into his seat and letting his head fall onto his knuckles, face squishing up in annoyance. “Shut up bro.”

“It’s been less that 24 hours, you’re being a lil’ bitch, I'm just saying.” Harrison held his hands up in defence before returning to his food and social media scrolling and Tom hated how he was right.

The other side of Town, Evie was taking notes from her boss of all the details she needed to change in the agreement. She wasn’t perfect at her job, but she was a perfectionist. She welcomed any form of criticism to do whatever it took to make her work better, and Michael knew that, which is one of the first things he loved about having her as an employee. “And finally, section 2... 4.2.” He let Evie catch up, flicking through her stapled document until she found the relevant page. Section 2.4 was one of the sections she hated writing most about because it felt intrusive and a breach of personal knowledge, but in this industry - and like Michael says, if you want something to be successful - it has to be done. “Client shall not appear personally involved with immediate Sony Picture Entertainment staff... scrap that and change it to any staff under the Sony Umbrella.” Evie shot him a look and gulped hard. They really upping the stakes here, huh she thought to herself, trying to hide her expression as she scribbled it out on her copy, scrawling a bunch of words to remind her to replace it.

Evie left the office at 11.58am, just in time for dinner but when she went back to her desk and saw the flood of emails in her inbox, she sighed, waving goodbye to any dinner she may have potentially had. Thank god - otherwise known as Maria - for the extra piece of bacon in this morning.

The hours blended into one until the lights in the office started dimming, as Evie continued to tap away at her keyboard, only stopping to fill her coffee mug back up, which she almost managed to spill all over the cleaner when she failed to see the hoover cord trailing across the office floor. Michael had made it very clear that this contract needed to be finished and signed with immediate effect. Tom was proving to be quite the asset to SPE already and now Marvel had leaked the news sooner than estimated, she could only imagine the stress that the bosses were under.

She let out a long yawn, covering her mouth with the back of her hand before she brought her coffee mug up to her lips, wincing at the burning liquid hitting her tongue. “How are we getting along, Miss Jones?” Michael appeared in the doorway, and she knew he was stressed, just because of the fact he was here at 7pm on a Friday evening.

“It’s getting there, Sir. Just a few final tweaks and it shall be done. Is Donna doing the contract exchange as per normal?” She asked, switching her eyes between her boss and the computer screen throughout the conversation.

“About that...” he walked further into the room and she noticed it was one of the only times she’d seen him without a suit jacket, only a crisp white shirt tucked into his tailored trousers. “Evie, you know you’re an amazing employee.” Evie laughed as Michaels playful side came out, only rarely making an appearance when it was absolutely necessary.

“I try my best, sir.” She was modest, but honest.

“Donna has had to go out of London with a family emergency and although the timing isn’t great, her family is priority right now.” Evie nodded, biting the inside of her cheek as Michael got to the details. “So, Tom and his team spoke highly of you after yesterday’s meeting and I really think you’d be a good substitute for Donna. Whatever you did to him yesterday, keep doing because they couldn’t help but sing your praises.”

Evie’s hands expanded with sweat, heart beating at the mention of Tom, even though she’d been writing about him all evening, after sorting through the mile long list of emails this afternoon. “Thats very kind. But I was just simply me, Mr Stud. I’m glad I represented well.”

“I know this is a big ask, and is slightly below your pay grade, but would you be interested in carrying out the exchange?” He asked. “I can make it worth your while and consider your birthday week off fully paid...”

She thought to herself; the thought of seeing Tom again made her feel like a giddy school girl, but at the same time, even though it was way below her pay grade, it showed extra willing and dedication to progression within the business in the future. She felt nervous at the thought, she’d carried out a few contract signings in the past, but none of this scale with such pressure riding on her shoulders. “Of course, anything to help.”

Michael looked relieved with her reply, which only helped to make her feel that she’d made the right decision. “I have another favour to add to the request...” He trailed off, squinting his face up as he felt like he was pushing his look, even if he did run the place. Evie smiled and nodded, not really sure what to expect, but whatever it was, she definitely did not expect what did come out of his mouth.

“I need the papers signing tonight.”

With a final copy of the contract in hand, Michael having signed it before he managed to escape the SPE building for the weekend, Evie was left tucked in her office. He'd left her with the relevant numbers and information and by the time he’d finally left her office, it was almost 7.30, which was most definitely not a business hour but needs, must. She sent the relevant email to the relevant people, informing them the contract signing needed to take place, and to pass the information onto the client if at all possible. She knew she was basically stabbing in the dark, because normal people didn’t work at this hour, but this was by far a normal industry.

A long 20 minutes passed, not one email ping filling the sound of her dreadfully quiet room. In the meantime, she triple checked her contract, tried freshening up her appearance and drank an extra cup of coffee. Evie’s eyes scanned over the list of relevant contacts that her boss had left her with, her name focusing in on Harrison Osterfield. She was sure he was the assistant that Tom lived with, and after some (very professional) social media research, her theory was confirmed. She toyed with the idea of sending an email, but given her recent luck with that, she opted for a phone call, even though she got severe anxiety over speaking on the phone.

Hi, Mr. Osterfield, it’s Evie Jones from Sony. I’m extremely sorry to bother you at this hour but my boss has requested an exchange of contracts to go ahead, especially with Marvel releasing the news so soon. It would be very much appreciated if you could give me a call back on this number and hopefully we can arrange a suitable meeting, thank you. Hopefully speak soon.

Her tone was cheery, and Tom smiled as the voicemail played aloud in their living room. Harrison rolled his eyes at his best friend as he picked up the work phone, ending the call screen that illuminated the device. “Mate, you have to ignore it!” Tom exclaimed, throwing his hands up theatrically as he paced around the room.

“Oh yeah, that will go down like a sack of shit! I'm your assistant as well as your best friend, Tom. I can’t ignore work calls!” Tom had already made him let the phone continuously ring, letting it go to voicemail in order to see who it was.

“But if you ignore it... she’ll definitely remember I gave her my number and...” Tom twiddled his fingers with one another, before letting them disperse like an erupt volcano. “BOOM.”

“Are you trying to get the poor girl sacked?” Harrison laughed, continuing on his phone regardless of Tom’s request. Tom gave up, defeated and acting very much like a child who didn’t get his own way. He slumped into the sofa, picking up the playstation controller to resume his game, all of course after taking a much needed gulp of beer. “I’ve been on the toilet. Haven’t seen my phone. And I'm back in the room in 10 minutes.” Harrison agreed, only wanting his best friends’ pining to come to a stop and if that meant giving the girl 10 minutes to hopefully drop him a message, then so be it. Tom laughed successfully as Harrison joined him on the sofa, picking up the second controller and continuing their brutal game.

Over at SPE, Evie’s fingers tapped repeatedly on her desk, adjusting the wallpaper on her Mac for the fifth time as she waited for a response. She was tempted to ring her boss, explain the lack of conversation with Tom’s team, but that means admitting she’s failed at the first hurdle. And then suddenly she remembers, Tom’s number. But she can’t, surely? If Harrison wasn’t replying then surely Tom wouldn’t either and she’d just look stupid, not to mention be at risk of losing her job. But then she’d probably lose her job if she didn’t get this stupid paperwork signed so, if there was a best option, she didn’t know which one it was. Her hand pulls open the desk drawer, seeing the crumpled up note he’d scribbled on yesterday and she toyed with the idea of picking it up, binning it, or pretending it never existed it. Unlike what normal Evie would do in a situation like this, she picked it up, and began typing the number into a blank message on her phone. If she was going to get fired, she was going to get fired for reaching out to Tom Holland and what could possibly go wrong?

#tom holland #tom holland x oc #tom holland fic #tom holland smut #tom holland fluff #tom holland fanfic

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bensbuttercup · 6 years ago

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After Hours (B.H.)

Summary: A noisy neighbor and a knock on a door may have Cameron biting off more than she can chew

Word Count: 7,816

Authors note: This may be a little piggy back off of Claire’s Office Hours and you should all go read it because it’s absolutely beautiful.

Cameron sighed as she set her mug of coffee down on the nightstand next to her bed, the now empty mug taunting her. She thought about walking to the kitchen to brew yet another cup but she deemed the time and effort it would take not worth the caffeine boost she would get. She pulled her caramel brown hair into a messy ponytail on top of her head before wrapping the rubber band that was once around her wrist around the messy mass of hair she had grasped in her right hand.

Midterms were quickly approaching and Cameron knew she should take her free Friday night to work on the essays she needed to complete before her tests. Her playlist for the night consisted of a mix of her favorite artists from when she was younger that she still held on to, a mix of Shawn Mendes and the boys’ One Direction solo hits had been on a continuous loop for hours now.

It was nearing midnight and Cameron was putting the finishing touches on the research paper she was writing for her current events class, six hours had added up to fifteen pages of writing and three pages of sources. The almost completed paper was something Cameron was glad she had finished in just a number of hours, a testament to how hard she was working this semester.

After saving her word document a final time Cameron opened Spotify at the bottom of her computer, she saw her History of Rock Playlist under the current one she was listening to, she had a paper for that class also, and she knew she should probably work on it but that class was of little interest to her past the first essay she had written.

Minimizing Spotify Cameron turned back to the countless tabs she had open on the internet, quickly she closed all of them, the feeling giving her an odd sense of satisfaction and pride. Cameron yawned as she slowly slid out of her bed, finally deciding that the cup of coffee to tie her over wasn’t that bad of an idea. She padded into the kitchen of her apartment, two fuzzy socks on her feet, one blue with reindeers and the other pink with wolves on it. The slippery material of her socks easily glided on her tile floors allowing her to not have to lift her feet to move smoothly.

As Cameron waited for her coffee to brew she heard a crackling noise through her wall before loud music began to vibrate the counter she was leaning on. Watching the coffee that was already in the mug ripple to the beat of the rock music that was playing next door Cameron closed her eyes and pinched the bridge of her nose. She didn’t know who her neighbor was but she knew they often enjoyed playing seventies and eighties rock at odd hours of the night. Often she could sleep through it but tonight Cameron was shocked when she heard the beat of a bass drum join in. The sound clearly wasn’t coming from the song but from a drum set.

As her keurig spit out the last of her mug of coffee Cameron picked the milk up out of her refrigerator, willing herself to keep calm while she made her coffee. She picked her backpack up from next to the kitchen table and retreated back to her room, her sky blue and black under armor backpack slung over one shoulder, her new mug of coffee in the other hand. Cameron began pulling her textbooks for her international trade laws class out of her bag when the sound of a cymbal from next door made her jump. The small startle caused Cameron to bump into her nightstand, she watched in shock as the full mug of coffee wobbled on the edge before settling flat again, only a few drops of the warm liquid running down the sides of the mug.

Cameron closed her eyes and took a deep breath silently thanking god the mug didn’t fall as she pushed it further back onto the small wooden table. She put her textbooks on the bed before carefully crawling back on to her soft mattress. She settled her brown throw blanket over her lap before pulling her laptop desk back to its place in front of her. She looked over the stickers on her laptop, various cute drawing of animals with funny sayings and stickers from her Hogwarts house covered the metal. She slowly opened the computer up and the sound of Shawn Mendes’ song “Particular Taste” filled her room.

The steady drumming of the bass next door picked up again and the music got even louder, Cameron sighed turning her own speakers up even louder. It seemed like a constant back and forth for half an hour, who’s speakers could be louder, who could cause the most problems for their neighbor.

Cameron knew the battle was pointless, that someone with a drum set in their apartment would be able to cause more havoc and disturbance than someone with a decent stereo set. Around one in the morning Cameron’s trade law essay still sat untouched, the google doc she was using open, the cursor blinking steadily. She noticed it was in time with the bass of the drum next door, and that annoyed her even more.

At one-forty-two Cameron pulled on her ponytail and groaned before pulling a hoodie on over her tank top, if she was going to confront her obnoxious neighbor she could at least be comfortable and covered.

With her feet clad in two mismatched fuzzy socks, her legs barely covered in a pair of blue Hawaiian print sleep shorts and a baseball hoodie from her ex-high school boyfriend covering her torso, Cameron set out on a mission. She quickly walked to the apartment next door and knocked firmly four times, the sound of her fist on the wooden door echoing through the empty hallway. She crossed her arms over he chest, her bottom lip pulled between her teeth as she heard the speakers noise cut off, the Queen song that was on left hanging in the middle of a line.

“Fucking finally,” Cameron let out a relieved sigh and turned to walk back to her own apartment, assuming her neighbor finally got the idea. Cameron was about to step back on to the tacky red carpet that ran down the middle of the hall when a deep voice from behind her caused her to jump slightly.

“Can I help you?” Cameron paused in the middle of the step she was taking and turned on the ball of her right foot. She went to throw a quick and sharp remark back at the individual who had the audacity to ask if she had a problem when he was the one blasting music at nearly two in the morning.

“Actually-” when Cameron locked eyes with who she thought was an obnoxious stranger who lived next door her breath got caught in her throat. “Hi Ben.” Cameron caught herself saying. Stood in front of Cameron was perhaps one of the most beautiful men she had ever seen.

Ben Hardy, or just Ben, as Cameron knew him, was her TA for her History of Rock Music class and he also led her discussion group. Cameron had never cared much for rock music but it was one of her older brothers favorite styles and with a space left in her schedule for one more elective she decided to take the class as a way to hopefully bond more with her brother.

She never knew though how attractive her TA could actually be until she had walked into class the first day. She was wearing a pair of ripped dark blue jeans and a hoodie from the school softball team she played on and she walked in feeling underdressed as she caught the TA’s eyes. He was wearing a pair of clearly ironed back dress pants with brown shoes and a maroon sweater. Ben was always dressed nice in classes and discussions, his hair tastefully messy on top of his head, and Cameron always felt underdressed in his presence.

However, tonight was different. Now Ben stood in front of her in nothing but a pair of gray sweatpants, the white band of Calvin Klein boxers poking out of the top of them, his happy trail dipping under the fabric along with his v-line. He wasn’t wearing any socks and his hair still looked damp, his bare chest on display in front of her. Cameron looks down his arms, the veins popping out from between his muscles under his skin, a pair of drumsticks in his right hand, his left leaning on the doorframe.

“Miss Price!” Cameron watched a smile grow on Ben’s face when he realized it was her. Ben knew that Cameron was ogling him, and he wasn’t complaining about it. Cameron watched as Ben looked her up and down slowly, causing her to shift slightly uncomfortably on the balls of her feet. With a yawn he languidly pushed himself off of the doorframe and spoke. “Cat finally got your tongue, Miss Price?” Ben asked.

Cameron went to open her mouth to speak but nothing came out. “It’s- it’s Cameron,” she stumbled over her words, “you can call me Cameron.” She felt her cheeks heating up while Ben’s eyes continued to map her figure out, as if she wasn’t swimming in a hoodie too big for her.

“Well Cameron,” Ben twirled one of his drumsticks between his fingers as Cameron watched mesmerized, “If you want to come in for a drink to make up for me keeping you up so late I wouldn't mind.” Cameron stood in the hallway still, stunned. Ben, her TA, was asking her if she wanted to come into his apartment for a drink, and she was considering it.

Cameron wanted to say no but instead she found herself saying, “I’m not- I’m not old enough? And you didn’t keep me up I was doing work.” She squeezed her eyes shut after she admitted to the fact that she was still only nineteen. Ben would definitely make fun of her now, she should just leave while she still had some of her pride left. Ben laughed deep in his throat and ran a hand through his still damp curls, Cameron watching the way his fingers curled around the ends of his hair.

“As far as I’m concerned you’re legal where I’m from,” Ben shrugged, “and it’s not like I’m going to call the cops on myself for giving alcohol to a minor.” Cameron felt her already prominent blush spread further down her neck and she was thankful her hoodie covered it.

She watched the way Ben’s biceps flexed as he turned around to walk back into his apartment, the muscles from his shoulders down into his hands rippling as he continued to twirl his drumstick between his nimble fingers.

Cameron shifted from foot to foot as she thought about just how nimble his fingers were, what they could possibly do to her. Besides her high school boyfriend she still kept in touch with and had the occasional hook up while they were both home Cameron was lacking in the experience department. However, she couldn’t help but find her TA attractive.

“If someone doesn’t think he’s attractive then they’re stupid,” Cameron mumbled to herself as she shuffled closer to the entryway of Ben’s apartment.

Ben set his drumsticks down on the counter in the middle of his kitchen and moved to a tall, thin, liquor cabinet he had next to a case of glasses and pulled out a bottle of wine as well as a shorter bottle of another liquor. Ben’s back muscles flexed and pulled under his skin while he had to reach up to pick a wine glass off the top shelf of the cabinet, his muscles relaxing again as he reached for a shorter glass that was directly in front of him.

Wearily Cameron slid her feet slightly closer to the molding that separated her from the threshold of Ben’s apartment and watched as he pulled the cork out of the wine bottle and tilted the glass slightly while the red alcohol flowed into the clear glass. After re-corking the wine bottle and setting it aside Ben opened the other bottle which already had some of the liquid missing and added a small amount into the shorter glass. He lifted the shorter glass to his lips and took a small sip before setting it down again.

After setting the glass down Ben looked over to where Cameron was tapping her foot against the ledge of the slightly raised molding before raising his eyebrows at her. That was the first time Camerin noticed the slit in his right eyebrow, he definitely had a scar there where the hair couldn’t grow anymore, and she wanted to know why. Suddenly Cameron found herself wondering everything about her TA. Hell, she didn’t even know how old he was, all she knew was that he was attractive and was inviting her into his apartment for a drink.

“I’m not gonna kill you y’know?” Ben laughed as he picked his drumsticks up again. “Sorry I’ve already had a drink tonight,” he admitted. “I am nowhere near intoxicated, juse loose.” Cameron nodded slowly, her bottom teeth between her lip as she slowly slid her left foot over the molding and on to the hardwood floor of his apartment. She noticed how his floors were a shade lighter than hers and his carpet was an off white instead of the coffee brown her carpet was. Other than that their apartments seened nearly identical. Soon after realizing she could be just as comfortable in his space as she was in hers Cameron slid her right foot into the apartment also and found herself shuffling in a few feet further.

“You want to close the door?” Ben asked from his seat at his drums, “don’t want anyone to walk in and steal you.” Cameron rolled her eyes at the teasing and reached her right foot back to close the white wooden door, the click of the lock securing itself stirring up a feeling on uncertainty inside of her. “Thanks, love!” Ben added once he knew the door had closed, “oh and the wine’s from a fresh bottle if you want to try it. Something my mum sent me after I got the TA gig.”

“Your mom sent you it?” Cameron felt her smile grow as she walked towards the kitchen, slowly reaching for the glass of wine on the counter. Somehow it was endearing to her that Ben held on to a bottle of wine his mom had sent him in celebration of his new job.

Ben adjusted himself on the stool in front of his drum kit before speaking, “yes she did,” he stepped on the bass pedal twice. “You should feel special that I opened it for you,” he nodded to a beat he had in his head as he airdrummed over the actual ones. Cameron smiled as she lifted the glass to her lips, tilting it and let a small amount of the wine slide into her mouth. She quickly swallowed it while nodding.

“I do feel special,” she moved closer to where Ben sat at his drum kit. She was becoming increasingly comfortable in his space and was thankful she didn’t let her nerves get the best of her this time. “Maybe you can show me something?” She asked quietly looking over to where Ben still sat at his drums, observing her.

“Yeah” he nodded, this time pulling his own bottom lip between his teeth for a moment. “Yes, definitely,” he paused for a moment looking around his apartment, “maybe go set your drink down and come back?” Cameron easily complied and quickly made her way back over to the kitchen, setting her wine down on the counter a few feet from where she had picked it up. Just when she was about to turn around to walk back over to Ben a stack of sheet music caught her eye, the words ‘My Blood’ were poking out from under a few other papers.

Carefully, Cameron moved the papers above the sheet music aside to see the full title, ‘In My Blood’. She smirked with her newfound information before happily walking back to Ben in the middle of the living room. Maybe he wasn’t so bad after all. “So,” she said quietly watching as Ben dropped his arms to rest on his thighs when she walked back in, “what do you want to -- teach me?” The last two words came out slightly more suggestive than Cameron intended them to and she bit her tongue hoping he wouldn’t comment on it.

Ben sat up straighter and nodded looking up at the girl who was standing in front of him, “oh teach you,” he cleared his throat, “right.” Ben looked around the room for a moment, obviously thinking about something but Cameron wasn’t quite sure what he was looking for. Suddenly he held up a finger as he stood up and walked over to a closet in the corner of the living room. He opened the door and wheeled another drum stool out and guided it with his foot over behind the other.

“I use that closet for all my extra blankets and seasonal clothes,” Cameron mumbled as she wondered what else Ben had in there. It was also odd to her that their apartments were nearly identical yet they both led such different lives in the two spaces.

“I have towels and blankets in there also,” he commented after hearing her, “it just happens to be the easiest place to keep my extra stools.” He reached forward and patted the leather of the stool he was originally sitting on, “you gonna come over or-” he trailed off at the end.

“Oh right!” Cameron laughed as she walked over towards Ben. He was so close to the stool in front of him that she had to pick one leg up and move it over the stool before almost straddling the seat trying to get comfortable. “What’s next?” She hummed in question.

Cameron felt Ben lean in closer to her and her breath hitched when he spoke lowly next to her ear, “want a pair of drumsticks? Or do you want me to show you how it’s done first?”

“Maybe - maybe you could play something simple?” She asked trying to focus on the drums in front of her and not the beautiful being who was sitting behind her.

“Simple,” Ben spoke lowly behind Cameron as he shifted so his legs were spread slightly open, his knees on either side of her waist, “I can do simple.” He shifted slightly so his foot could comfortably reach the pedal to the bass drum on the floor, his knee brushing along her thigh in the process. Cameron couldn’t help the involuntary shivers that climbed up her spine at the slight touch.

“You okay?” He asked her quietly before he started pressing his foot down steadily on the pdeal, beginning to keep time.

“Mhum,” Cameron mumbled as she drew her bottom lip between her teeth again, a nervous habit. Ben nodded, satisfied with the response before he snaked his hands around either side of her, a stick in each hand as he began to tap out a simple rhythm on his drum kit. She intently watched each flick of his wrist as his foot still kept a steady beat on the bass, truly mesmerized by the amount of focus and control it must take to do that many things at once.

She was shocked when she felt his chin come to rest on her shoulder a few seconds later, but she kept her eyes focused on his hands, trying to distract herself from just how close he was to her. She could feel the heat of his body radiating through her hoodie and she wanted to sink back into him and be completely enveloped in his warmth. “You see how I’m just keeping the time with each of my hands?” Ben asked knowing she was still watching his movements. Cameron just nodded, not feeling the need to speak in the moment.

“That’s all you have to do, nothing too crazy, just simple,” he spoke slowly his voice getting lower and lower with each word, “one, two, three, four.” Ben kept repeating the numbers as he kept his hands steady while he played, not wanting to show Cameron how nervous she was making him. “You want to try?” Ben pulled his arms back and rested one on each of her thighs, the first true skin on skin contact they had.

She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, willing her heart rate to slow slightly. His skin was so warm against hers and it was a feeling she didn’t want to give up. “I don’t think I’d even be half as good as you,” she mumbled looking down to the drumsticks in his hands. Ben laughed lightly from behind her, the breath he let out ticking her neck slightly.

“It’s not about being good, it’s your first time playing,” he pointed out, bouncing his right hand steadily on her thigh while he spoke, “it’s about learning.” He tapped her left hand with the drum stick, silently telling her to take hold of it. “Good,” he smiled as her hand wrapped around the slim wooden stick, “just hold it firm,” he carefully moved the stick so it was positioned correctly in her hand. “Just let your wrist be flexible, it really is all in the wrists.”

“Gotcha’, all in the wrists,” Cameron noticed how the drumstick was still warm in her hand from where he was holding it just seconds earlier. “Can I have the other?” She asked quietly.

“Nope,” Ben shook his head behind her as his right hand began tapping out the same rhythm he was earlier, “just follow me.” Cameron easily kept up with Ben whose foot was still keeping time with the bass drum. “You’re getting it already!”

“Yeah,” she nodded watching their hands hit the drums in sync, “I am!” It was a small victory for Cameron as she often found learning new things exciting and fulfilling. It was all apart of learning and growing while she was away at college. “Can I try the other?” She spoke with more confidence. In the short time she had been in Ben’s apartment he had done nearly everything to make her comfortable and besides the obvious flirting between the two of them, she couldn’t have asked for a better way to spend the morning hours of a Saturday.

“Well,” Ben hummed craning his neck to look up at her face, “I think first something has to go.” Cameron went to ask what when she felt Ben’s free left hand trail up her thigh and under her hoodie. She accidently let out a surprised squeak when his fingers brushed against the strip of exposed skin between the waistband of her sleep shorts and her tank top, Ben raising an eyebrow and laughing at the noise.

“What was that?” He asked as he pressed his lips against her neck. Any other time Cameron would have assumed the act was meant to be sexual but the obvious smile he had on his lips led her to believe it was meant in a more playful and affectionate manner. “If I wanted to hear a squeak toy I’d ask my mum to send me a video of our dog back home.”

“Your hands are cold!” She argued as he moved her hand over the fabric of her tank top, his fingers pressing gently into her side trying to see if he could get the same reaction out of her again.

“I’m warming them up,” Ben dropped the drumstick in his right hand and it bounced on the floor a few times before settling flat. Cameron was distracted from watching the drumstick when his right hand slipped under her hoodie also, his lips moving steadily against the skin of her neck, “not my fault you’re ticklish.”

Cameron let out a content hum and moved her head to the right allowing Ben more access to her neck. Ben’s hands brushed down her sides to rest firmly on her hips as he let his teeth scrape over the skin of her neck before closing his mouth over where he had just nipped, his tongue soothing the area while he sucked gently.

Cameron couldn’t help but let out a quiet moan at the feeling of his quick and nimble lips on her neck, skillfully dancing around her skin sucking what she assumed would be hickeys into her skin. Surprised by her own moan Cameron’s eyes snapped open and she went to pull away from Ben. However, when she tried to move his hands kept her firmly anchored to the drum stool.

“What’s wrong?” He asked against her skin. Despite her embarrassment Cameron still kept her neck moved slightly to the side, hoping the feeling of Ben’s skin on hers wouldn’t disappear completely. She shook her head sighing out a quiet “nothin’’ as her eyes fluttered shut, the light of the apartment suddenly too harsh for her.

Suddenly Cameron’s eyes snapped open and she straightened her neck out, “actually I want to play more,” she mumbled.

“Yeah?” Ben mumbled as his hands started pulling her hoodie up slowly. “This okay?” His hands stilled, the fabric of her hoodie still bunched in his hands as he waited for Cameron’s approval to remove it.

“If it helps,” Cameron swallowed thickly when Ben removed his lips from her neck to pull her hoodie over her head. Her arms lifted and the fabric was easily removed from her body and discarded on the floor next to them. One more soft kiss was left on the back of Cameron's neck before she felt him back away from her completely.

Cameron knew her outfit was quite skimpy and tried not to blush as she felt Ben’s eyes trail from her neck that was now covered in blooming hickeys and down her torso. She had just expected to ask her neighbor to turn their music down so had opted not to put a bra on and her spaghetti strap tank top left little to his imagination. She wrapped her arms around herself, trying to get used to the new chill of the apartment as Ben backed away to pick up the drum stick that he had dropped earlier.

He handed her the second stick and she gripped it in her hand, her eyes following his foot as it went back to rest on the pedal of the bass drum. Ben began to keep the same time he had earlier and rested his chin on her now bare shoulder, the warmth of his skin contrasting how cold hers now was. “You wanna just experiment a little bit,” Ben spoke matter of factly, “do what feels natural.”

“What feels natural,” she nodded as her shaking hands started messily tapping along to the rhythm of the bass drum that Ben was tapping out with his foot. After she had played along to the beat for a few seconds Cameron felt his hands come around her front to rest on either one of her knees, she could feel his breath ghosting over the shell of her ear.

“Keep playing,” Ben spoke lowly as his hands began to run up the inside of her thighs. Cameron’s hands stuttered as his fingers keep dragging further and further up her legs, a low chuckle sliding past his lips. Cameron tried her hardest to stay focused, to ignore how gently his fingers were tapping the same rhythm she was supposed to be playing into the soft skin on the inside of her thighs. Despite Ben’s efforts to encourage her to keep playing Cameron found herself dropping one of the drum sticks out of frustration, out of frustration in herself for being so easily affected by him.

She tried to close her legs around his hands but Ben had other ideas, “you gotta be good,” he mumbled pulling lightly on her earlobe with his teeth. “It’s okay of you can’t keep playing but you have to tell me what you want then,” he added. Cameron let out a shaky sigh as her head fell back and rested on his shoulder, her eyes shutting as his lips started working over her neck again.

“What is it that you want dove?” Ben hummed as he nipped along the side of her throat.

“I- I don’t know,” Cameron replied trying not to get totally lost in the pair of arm lips that were on her neck.

“Oh no,” he laughed against her skin, finally pulling away, “you have to know.” Ben pulled away from Cameron’s nack completely and he reached up to gently pull the rubber band that was holding her ponytail up out. With her hair now free Ben’s fingers began to gently run through the smooth strands, trying to avoid any knots he found.

“I really don’t,” her hazel eyes opened to meet his blue ones, “I’ve only been with one boy,” she made sure to use that word, “and he doesn’t care much about more than just getting off.”

“How old was he?” Ben was genuinely curious how old her ex-lover had to be to not know how to properly please a woman.

“He’s my age, nineteen now,” she easily replied, “we still umm- see each other when we’re both home.” Ben felt his breath catch in his throat realizing with the only other person she had been with was nearly ten years younger than he was. Maybe it was the lack of experience in college that had her ex hitting a roadblock in the pleasure department. He hadn’t properly learned himself until he was with a girl three years older than himself in college.

“I’m twenty-eight,” Ben felt the need to share the information incase Cameron was uncomfortable with being with him due to the age difference they had.

“Don’t look it,” was the response he earned form the girl who was sitting on the stool in front of him. Her head still rested on his shoulder, her eyes again closed as her fingers gently tapped the beat from earlier into his knees.

Ben let out a small laugh, “I’ll hope that was a compliment, but if you are comfortable I wouldn’t mind taking this a little bit further. I could show you how a man is really supposed to treat you.” He watched as her eyes opened again, rolling the same way they did in discussions when he tried to make a joke that wasn’t at all funny. It was her small attitude that had Ben attracted to her in the first place, she was always ready to bite back with a sharp remark and she often said how she felt regardless of how it came across.

“A man?” She asked looking up into his eyes again, “you’re still in school yourself, don’t get too far ahead buddy. Wait,” she paused, “what are you in school for anyway, I wasn’t paying attention the first day.”

“I’m going for my masters in Ethnomusicology,” Cameron’s eyes grew slightly larger upon learning the name of a degree she never knew existed. “Why are you in my class anyway?”

“First off rude,” she leaned up to start kissing down the front of his throat to occupy herself as his hands came back down to run up and down her thighs. “I’m double majoring, Accounting and International Business, and I’m in your class,” Ben let out a low moan when she found a particularly sensitive spot on his neck, “because there’s this bullshit in the curriculum about having to take non-business electives.”

“So you’re saying you were forced to take my class?” He asked while she added a new hickey to his growing collection. “To fulfill your Visual and Performing Arts credit? Like so many other students who don’t care about my class.”

“That’s what I’m saying,” she nodded sitting up and turning in the stool to face him. As she turned around Ben stood up and adjusted the band of his sweats. “Where are you going?” She wondered if she had said something wrong.

“Just to get another sip of my drink,” he replied as he wandered into the kitchen, “relax!” Cameron weighed her options before standing up, following him across the room and to the kitchen. She easily slid on to the tiled kitchen floors and over next to Ben who was finishing his glass off, she picked her glass of wine up and took a small sip before setting it down again.

Just as she set her glass down Ben walked over to her and trapped her between his body and the counter with his arms. Cameron let both of her hands come up to rest on his triceps and squeezed gently while tipping her chin up to brush her nose along Ben’s cheekbone. She saw him take a deep breath in and smiled, kissing his cheek. “You nervous or something, Mr. Hardy?” she teased with the name some of the students would often use.

“Y’know I hate that,” he replied before turning his head slightly to the side. She felt his breath brush over her lips and closed her eyes, waiting, hoping. Cameron was grateful he had taken the hint when she felt his soft lips cover hers. She didn’t immediately kiss him back but instead took a moment to learn which way he tilted his head and if he wanted to take the lead or not. Once he urged her to join in with a small pull on her bottom lip Cameron found herself moving a hand from his tricep up to cup his jaw.

“Wow,” Cameron let out a small laugh when she pulled away from him, a blush now coating his face and neck, slowly spreading into his chest also. Ben’s hands found her hips and he started to push her up his counter. Cameron took it as a hint and reached behind her to brace both arms on the countertop helping Ben push her up.

“Thank you, Dove,” he hummed in response placing a gentle kiss on her lips before stepping back. It was then that Cameron looked down and realized that Ben was half hard in his sweats, the outline was very visible. “You gonna let me show you how a lady should be treated now?” He wondered.

Cameron looked down again before looking up to meet his eyes, “but--”

“But nothing,” he cut her off, “it’s a simple yes or no. If you’re uncomfortable we can stop here and I’ll make like an oven pizza or something.” She couldn’t help but laugh at his offer but shook her head at the same time.

“I want to,” she assured him, “I just don’t want it to be bad?” It came across to Ben as more of a question than an answer. He moved forward again, his hands gently spreading her legs so he could stand between them, flush against the counter.

“It couldn’t be bad,” he reached up to rest his hands under her tank top, his thumbs sliding under the waistband of her pajama shorts. “You don’t have a lot of experience so you’re still learning. I wouldn’t consider that bad though. Here,” he started working her shorts down slowly, giving her time to stop him if she needed. Cameron pushed herself up with her hands so he could finish pulling her shorts down and watched as the blue fabric fell to the floor in front of her. “Ever had someone make you come with just their fingers?”

Cameron took a sharp inhale through her nose at his words, they sounded too natural flowing past his lips but in her mind they should have sounded dirty and vulgar. “Umm-” she hesitated, “my ex once,” she pulled her lip between her teeth, “other than that I’ve never really been able to so--” she didn’t need to finish her answer.

Ben stayed silent as he trailed his fingers up the inside of her thigh closer and close to the edge of her panties. He watched his own hand as it toyed with the elastic of her purple panties with teal flowers, the colors no where near matching her pink tank top or blue pajama shorts. “Ben,” her whispering his name snapped his out of his daze and he leaned in to connect their lips again.

The kiss wasn’t rushed or rough, it was slow and passionate as Ben’s fingers slipped into her panties. His right hand cupping her heat before he slid two fingers between her slick folds. “Fuck,” he mumbled pulling away from her, “you’re soaked already.”

“No shit,” Cameron’s eyes were squeezed shut as she dropped her head to Ben’s shoulder. His index and middle finger gently stroked up and down her heat from her opening to her clit over and over until she was practically shaking under his touch. A few seconds later he slid his index finger inside of her, he had been with enough girls to know how to have Cameron a pile of putty in his arms. He carefully let his finger prod inside of her for a few moments while he trailed his lips down her jawline and to the front of her throat.

He turned his hand to get a better angle and pulled his finger our slightly before bending it a ‘come hither’ motion to find the soft ridged spot inside of her. When he felt a sharp intake of breath enter Cameron’s body followed by a low and long moan he knew he had found what he was looking for. “Can you take another?” he asked against her skin.

“Can I-” Ben brushed his finger along the spot again knowing she was about to give another sarcastic response, “fuck please,” she gasped. Smirking against her skin Ben let his middle finger join his index finger, his thumb coming to rub slow circles on her clit.

“Ben--” Cameron gasped, mouthing along his shoulder, her eyes still shut tight as he felt her clenching around his fingers.

“That’s it,” he coaxed, “you gonna come for me? All over my fingers,” he moved to kiss her forehead. “You can, I got you Dove.” Ben smiled to himself when he felt one of her hands grip on to his free one and he squeezed back gently as his name started to leave her mouth mixed with a string of curses. Ben looked down to watch his fingers slide in and out of her and had to stop for a second, telling himself it was about Cameron right now and that his pleasure could come later.

“Ben, I’m almost there-” she mumbled pulling on the ends of his hair with her free hand. She bit down lightly on his shoulder and Ben smiled to himself knowing it would most likely be bruised in the morning, it would still probably be bruised Monday for class. His thumb on her clit started moving faster at the thought of watching Cameron fidget throughout class Monday, her neck still covered in the hickeys he had left. She would probably wonder if anyone else in the room knew who left them there, if anyone noticed the marks on their TA’s neck and hers and was able to put the two together.

Mixed up in his own thoughts Ben didn’t realize that Cameron was on the edge of her orgasm until she clenched unusually tight around his fingers, “that’s it,” he mumbled kissing her cheek as he heard her let out a series of quiet moans and gasps. “I got you,” he reminded her, he had picked up on the fact that she loved being praised and told she was right in class. Whenever she got an answer right or he or Professor Lee agreed with one of her opinions her face would light up.

“Ben,” she cleared her voice her voice a little hoarse, “stop I’m sensitive,” she added. Ben’s fingers stilled completely inside of her before he carefully pulled them out. He brought them up to his lips and slowly sucked them inside his mouth, his eyes closing at the taste of her. He moaned around his fingers for the effect and pulled them out, wiping them dry on his sweats leaving a wet spot on the gray fabric.

His eyes opened when he felt three fingers gently drag down his stomach and grip on the waistband of his sweatpants, the hand shaking slightly. Ben looked down and saw Cameron’s hand, which was much smaller than his, gripping his sweats right above the string that held them up. “Y’know,” Ben started, “you seem so much more confident in class and discussions, and based on your writing I would say that you were gifted with all the confidence in the universe--” he trailed off.

“But?” Cameron wondered as she looked up into his eyes.

“But,” Ben reached up to cup her jaw, his thumb running over the peak of her cheekbone, “you need to learn how to me more confident in yourself. Where’s that girl I saw the second day of class?”

Cameron raised an eyebrow trying to think back to January, the third day of classes? “The one who had her backpack over one shoulder after class and walked straight down to me and Professor Lee to tell us that she would be doing her album review on Shawn Mendes’ self titled album because he was basically a modern day Frank Sinatra. You held yourself with such confidence.”

“She’s different,” Cameron shrugged as she was now playing with the tie on his sweats. Her fingers were perfectly manicured in a silver sparkle color, pulling at each end of the bow.

“She shouldn’t be,” Ben replied tilting her chin up to connect his lips with hers. He rested his hands on her hips and rubbed gentle circles into the skin there. He wanted her to take the lead on this kiss and hoped she realized that.

She was slow, unsure but started adding more pressure to the kiss once she realized that Ben wasn’t. Soon he felt her hands pull at either end of his sweatpants’ string with a purpose the knot coming undone, the two ends falling from her hands. “I--” she looked up to him.

“You?” Ben asked pulling away from her enough to see her face.

“I want this,” she nervously tugged the band on his sweats lower, “I just want it to feel good for you too, it doesn’t have to be all about me.”

“But what if I want it to?” Ben asked playfully raising an eyebrow as he poked her sides to make her smile. “I like to know that they girl I’m with is enjoying it,” Ben leaned closer to Cameron’s ear, “it kinda turns me on even more.”

“Ew!” She laughed pushing him away from her, but his hands still kept a tight grip on her hips. “Don’t talk like that!” She said referring to the purposely over seductive voice he had just used. Ben smiled as he buried his face in the crook of her neck leaving gentle kisses there as he allowed her to relax in his hold. “Can we,” she trailed off trying to find the words she wanted to use, “can we go to your room maybe? If it’s not too much, I’d just be more comfortable.”

Ben smiled and took Cameron’s hand allowing her to slide off the counter, her still sock clad feet hitting the floor as he led her towards his bedroom.

Once inside Cameron realized it was the same size as hers, with the same furniture and the same bed frame. His walls were covered in family pictures that weren’t organized in any specific way and a brown comforter was on his unmade bed that definitely had too many pillows.

“It’s really soft!” Ben let go of Cameron’s hand and flopped down on the mattress. A loud and over exaggerated ‘oof’ slipping past his lips as his back hit the bed causing her to smile and quickly pad over to the side of the bed he didn’t just flop down on. She sat on the edge and wasn’t sure what to do until Ben reached over and pulled her down into him, her head hitting his chest.

“It is really soft,” she mumbled rubbing her feet together nervously, unsure of what to do now. Hoping he wouldn’t mind if she got comfortable she skillfully pulled her socks off just using her feet and kicked them off the edge of the bed. While she was making sure they had landed on the floor Cameron caught sight of the clock, it was nearly three-thirty in the morning, she hadn’t realized she had already been over that long.

She went to sit up and Ben looked at her confused, “where ‘ya going?” He asked with a long yawn.

“Home,” she replied, a hint of sadness evident in her tone, “it’s late.”

“Exactly!” Ben sat up and wrapped his arms around her waist, his chin resting on her shoulder again, just like it had when he was showing her how to play earlier. “It’s late and I can’t let you walk home at this hour,” he turned his face into her neck and smiled into the soft skin there.

“Really?” She sighed reaching a hand back to run it through his now dry hair. Ben nodded into her neck and she allowed her muscles to relax into his hold, she felt him squeeze her gently before pulling her to lay down with him again.

Without words he allowed her to get comfortable, her leg swinging across his hip as his hand came to curl around her bare thigh. His thumb brushed across the stretch marks on the curve of her ass before she trailed gentle kisses down his jaw. “I never--”

“Another time,” Ben let his eyes close, “I’m too tired and I know you are also. Just stay the night and let me make you breakfast when we get up and then we can talk about going all the way another time.

“Okay,” was the simple response Cameron gave before her hand came to rest on his bare chest, fingers drawing shapes into his skin. Once her fingers stilled and her breathing came slow and even against the skin of his neck Ben pulled the blanket over the two of them and placing a kiss on the top of Cameron’s head, before closing his own eyes. The two falling asleep, limbs tangled around another person for the first time in months.

#ben hardy #ben hardy imagine #ben hardy smut #ben hardy: a churro #TA! Ben Hardy #TA x OC #ben hardy x oc #anna writes #smut #neighbours au

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