He is

Vampire Terzo x FReader | NSFW

Art by the wonderful @tasty-ribz

For @ghostchems on her birthday! To be a little bit soppy as much as I love ghost for being ghost it has also brought me some incredible friends. We bonded over loving terzo and love island and now you are my favourite person to scream about awful men with every day. I hope everyone is making you feel a special as Terzo would today because as far as we are concerned yours is the only important birthday happening this month 💜

Now a best selling author thanks to your experience at Crowley Manor you find yourself struggling to muster up inspiration for the sequel. Will returning to the place it all began help you? Or just confirm the none of it was real? A sequel to Cirice Warnings: blood, rough sex, hints of mind control, pinv sex, cunnilingus, lots of dust hehe

With a huff of frustration you scratch out the poor excuse for a sentence and drop your pen. There were more scribbles across the page then there were words and you needed a break or you might end up throwing your note pad across the room. Abandoning your desk you wander over to the window for a distraction from your writer's block. The evening was drawing in, street lights flickering on one by one as people hurried home from their day whether it be work or leisure it was still an unwelcome reminder of your lack of productivity. Turning from the view you scan across the room, your home office, hoping for something to spark your inspiration but your mind remains unhelpfully blank. You ponder just giving up for the day, shutting the door and giving yourself over to your evening but deadlines are approaching and there is still so much to do. With a reluctant determination, you turn to your inspiration board and will it to do its job. 

When you had decided to write a follow up to your best selling debut novel, you had carefully gathered all the things you knew you would need to refer to to build the story. There were your photographs from Crowley Manor, newspaper clippings about the house and the area, quotes and key plot points from the original story,  a couple of photos of bela lugosi, the closest you can find to how you remember him looking - although you have sketched what you recall of the facepaint he wore over the top with a marker - and in the centre, the note; the only thing you have that proves that it was real. Well, that and the two small scars on your neck. You rub your fingers over them absentmindedly as you try to remember anything more but even as the scars faded, so did your memories to the point where you are not entirely sure any of it was real. Reading over the words again. 

 A candle casting a faint glow

You and I see eye to eye

Can you hear the thunder?

How can you hear the thunder that's breaking?

Now there is nothing between us

From now our merge is eternal

Can't you see that you're lost?

Can't you see that you're lost without me?

-iii

You hum the tune to yourself, the melody you had only heard once and yet it plays through your dreams so frequently you have never been able to forget it, always accompanied by a dark shadow and the sense that you are being watched. Your experience at Crowley Manor - whether a true encounter with a dashing vampire or a figment of your imagination - had changed your life. You were a writer now; a successful published writer. Your vampire romance novel had been an instant best seller, ‘the mysterious vampire luring in unsuspecting victims until one stole his heart’ earned a loyal fanbase and quickly. In interview after interview you were asked if you had based him on someone real, probably assuming he was an older man you had a crush on, but you always answered no because how could you explain that he was a man you had most likely conjured up in a dream. 

But that had all brought you to where you were now; attempting to write the much anticipated sequel. The heroine of your story had left the manor in a similar way to you but after having spent much longer with her vampire lover, and as much as you wanted to see them reunited you were struggling to find the narrative. Unlike you she had been offered forever with him and had chosen to return to her normal life, so without a justified reason, why would she return? Your thought process hits a brick wall once again as you rub your tired eyes. There is only one thing left to try before you may be forced to give up. The familiar pull in your gut that you had been resisting since the day you left was finally winning. You had to go back. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~

The gate is rusted and stiff, so you have to push hard to create enough space for you to slip through and even then you almost trip on the piles of rubbish littering the driveway. You step over the buckled historical society sign with a sigh - even they had given up on the place and for some time by the looks of things. Tall weeds were growing through the now sparse gravel, even more windows had been boarded up and there were layers of faded graffiti covering the front door. It is already ajar but you have to shove it open, pushing it past the built up leaves and dust trying to wedge it closed. Although the state of the outside had saddened you, it is the interior that makes your heart sink -  it was never nice to see a beautiful old house fall into ruin.

The floorboards still gave their familiar creak under your soft footsteps, but that was about the only similarity. The sconces, once filled with dripping candles were now empty and shrouded in cobwebs, and dust motes thick enough to choke you floated in what little beams of light that made it through the windows. Without the soft piano luring you further into the house you took your time to properly look around, cautiously walking through room after room. What little furniture that hadn’t been stolen or vandalised was covered in dust sheets. The shelving sits almost empty in every room; you pass only a few odd books and trinkets still in place but almost unrecognisable underneath all the grime. 

Towards the back of the house you come to what looks like a music room and a feeling of deja vu washes over you. The grand piano still dominates the room, but when you run your fingers across what little keys are left it only lets out reluctant, discordant notes as neglected and decaying as the rest of your surroundings. The fireplace is a yawning chasm on the back wall without the welcoming fire filling it, but you remember laying on the soft rug before it where he had given and taken unimaginable pleasure from you, well at least you thought. Because it was seeming more and more likely you had imagined it. You pull yourself from your thoughts and that is when the portrait catches your eye. How you never noticed it before you don’t understand, but it hangs perfectly above the mantel and crushes the last shreds of hope you were clinging onto. 

It is him. His distinctive face paint, his perfectly styled hair and his intense mismatched eyes. At least now you know what really happened on your last visit to this place. Before you had fallen asleep you must have seen this portrait on your last visit, striking as he was and then your mind had concocted the whole fantasy. You are not sure exactly what you had been expecting returning to Crowley Manor, but you couldn’t avoid the cutting disappointment that was slicing through you. All that was here was an empty old house and a painting of a man. With one last longing look you take your leave as you fight the knot of feelings solidifying in your chest. There was nothing else for you here. You reach the foyer where the light of dusk shines around the edges of the open door, illuminating your exit from this house and your return to reality, when you hear it… 

We're standing here by the abyss…

That voice. The words were different and even the tune was different, but that voice. There was nothing else it could be but him. The alluring sound drifts down from the upper floor to where you stand and you don’t even try to resist his siren call as your feet carry you towards the grand staircase.

And the world is in flames…

Your footprints disturb the thick layers of dust covering the once grand carpet that leads the way up, but you continue unconcerned by the trail you are leaving in your wake, your only thought finding your way to the source of that beautiful sound. 

Two star-crossed lovers reaching out…

It gets clearer as you reach the upper level, but you still haven't quite found him yet. Along the landing are multiple doors that you consider as you walk, but once your eyes land on the ornate double doors at the furthest end you know inherently; that is your destination.

To the beast with many names…

The floorboards creak as you get closer and closer even as you attempt to keep your steps measured and even, but if that didn’t give you away then you are sure your laboured breathing and thundering heartbeat would. 

He is. He's the shining and the light without whom I cannot see…

The singing stops when you reach the doors and with barely a brush of your fingertips,they swing open revealing only a dark room within. Your eyes struggle to adjust to the gloom, but even that doesn’t make you hesitate to enter. It is as abandoned as the rest of this cursed house. All the anticipation you had felt soured inside you and tears pricked at your eyes as you circled in the centre of the room taking in the dusty bed and empty fireplace. Your back is turned when a sudden bang startles you, the doors slamming shut. You cry out in fear, turning in an instant and rushing towards them. Pushing and pulling is futile and they will not budge. The knowledge that you are trapped fills you with a shiver as a chill falls over the room.   

“My little lamb returns,” he growls in your ear, appearing as if from nowhere. His arms box you in against the door, his white gloves the only part of him you can see. You try to turn, to see him but his body presses close, cold and unyielding as stone behind you. You should do something, anything but fear and lust paralyse you as they tear through you in equal measure.

“You are real,” you barely whisper before his fangs sink into your neck, the sharp shock of pain stealing your consciousness.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

When your eyes flutter open you find it hard to believe you are even in the same room. You are lying in the centre of a four poster bed, propped up against a mountain of airy pillows and as you shift the sheets feel unbelievably soft against your fingers. The heavy drapes are tied to the frame on one side giving you a clear view of the fireplace and the figure silhouetted against it. His back is to you, seemingly unaware that you are now awake so you take your time admiring him.

It is undoubtedly him. His hair is slicked back, familiar in both your memory and in his portrait you had not long discovered. This time he wears a white suit with gold trim that glimmers in the firelight and it is certainly one you have never seen before. He turns in your direction giving you a glimpse of his striking profile still covered in his unusual skull-like face paint. He clears his throat glancing at you and you realise he is also holding a book up to the fire light. Not just any book. That is your book. The one you had written about him. You sit bolt upright but a wave of dizziness stops you from acting any further. 

“His touch feels like nothing you’ve ever experienced before. It scares you how much you crave it; how much you want him to keep touching you and to never stop. Your heart feels like it’s beating out of your chest, despite the overwhelming feeling of comfort that has fallen over you.” He smirks as he reads your words back to you with an arrogance that can only come from knowing it was written about him. 

“How did you get that?” you hiss at him, the mortification you are experiencing seems to break some of the spell he has over you. He chuckles darkly in response, snapping the book shut and placing it on the nightstand so you can see the very suggestive illustration you had commissioned for the cover clearly.

“You have a way with words, agnellino.” He leans against the bedpost, running his eyes over you and watching how you react just to his presence. “Do you still crave my touch as much as you wrote?” His elongated teeth peek out of his mouth with how wide his smile is, clearly enjoying having this additional power over you. You almost miss not so long ago when you believed he had been a figment of your imagination. 

“It’s called creative licence,” you snap back breathlessly, trying your damnedest to keep your composure but you make the mistake of meeting his mismatched eyes and you are pulled under all over again. It’s like he can worm his way into your very soul and convince you of anything he desires.

“Why did you come back?” He looms over you at the end of the bed as he waits for you to answer him. As subtly as you can, you try to sit yourself up to make yourself feel less vulnerable but your limbs are weak and uncooperative.

“I’m writing again,” you start. It is the truth - or at least part of the truth - but you can tell he doesn't believe you, fixing you with his intense stare, waiting for you to be more forthcoming. “Last time I was here it was very… inspiring.”

“I see, I see.” He starts to pace next to the bed, giving you a reprieve and a chance to breathe but you sense it is by no means the end of your interrogation.  “Just ‘professional interest’ then?”

“Yes, that is all. I should go.” You try again to sit up and ease yourself off the bed but before your feet can touch the ground he kneels in front of you, blocking you from moving any further.

“Ah ah ah,” he scolds, wagging his finger at you like he was disciplining a wayward child. “You come into my home uninvited - again, I might add.” He leans close enough you can feel the cold radiating from him, his teeth bared threateningly. “I need the truth.” Fear makes you tense but somehow you know he would never really hurt you - at least not in a way you wouldn't enjoy. You start to think his irritation is more directed at your refusal to admit how much you want him rather than the fact you broke into his house. Again. 

“You lured me up here! You could have just let me leave.” That thought boosts your confidence just enough to push back. Just a little. He didn't have to reveal himself to you everytime you were here, and yet he did.

“No I couldn't, little lamb,” he whispers, a softness falling over his face. “I could never resist a chance to taste you again.” His attention drops to your feet, helping you out of your shoes before he stands again before you. “Tell me why you are really here.”  He had given you your chance to tell him of your own volition, but now you could feel his will influencing you and bringing forth the truth. He eases his jacket from his shoulders, leaving it on the floor where it falls. He makes quick work of his bow tie adding it to the pile of clothes at his feet. 

His cuff links go next, freeing him to turn up his sleeves and then his collar sliding one button free at a time until it hangs open. His toned chest is covered in thick dark hair and it's all you can do not to reach out and bury your fingers in it. Even without his vampiric lure, you would struggle to resist him. He crawls over you, forcing you to scoot back onto the bed to make room for him and you find yourself unable to speak as you get lost in his eyes.

“Tell me…” He is intoxicating and you find you no longer have the willpower to resist him. You had forgotten how powerful he was, his presence alone narrowing your mind until all you can think of is him. The words are on the tip of your tongue, but somehow they still won't come. 

“Why are you here agnellino, eh?” He holds himself over you, the only thing touching you are the open tails of his shirt, denying you any more until you obey him. “Did you miss me?”

“I wasn’t sure if you were real any more,” you admit reluctantly and his eyes alight at your delayed admission.

“Shall I remind you how real I am?” There is a voice in your mind somewhere telling you to say no, but with every other part of you screaming a resounding yes it is easy to tune out - though you still can’t quite bring yourself to say it. So you nod and he wastes no more time. His dexterous fingers make quick work of your trousers and your underwear, pulling them off you in one swift motion and then he is on you. His strong hand grasps your ankle, pulling you even closer so he can press his lips to your bare skin. 

He starts at the sole of your foot, lavishing you with open mouthed kisses and grazes of his dangerous teeth. He seeks out parts of your body you had never even known were sensitive before, whether it was his plush mouth sucking at them or tracing them with his tongue. The curve of your calf, the dip behind your knee and the crease of your inner thigh. His cool breath raises goosebumps across your skin and he chases them with his mouth, only pausing to suck on the beads of blood that bloom where he allows his fangs to nick your skin. The contrasts make you needy for more of his touch, the warm and the cold, the pleasure and the pain. When he eventually reaches your core he ceases all his teasing and devours you, his groans of pleasure vibrating through you as he laps at your entrance and sucks on your clit. 

“Every part of you tastes exquisite,” he moans again at your skin as he pulls at the hem of your shirt, allowing himself access to even more of your skin. Your bra is pulled roughly aside so he can latch onto your nipples one after the other. Losing himself in his lust, he pinches them roughly as his teeth make deliberate shallow slices in your cleavage. He suckles at them harshly, milking all the blood he can from such a surface cut. 

Eventually he reaches your neck pressing a deceptively gentle kiss to your scar from your last encounter before seeking out the fresher puncture wounds from earlier in the evening. He probes them harshly with his tongue disturbing the newly formed clots enabling him to drink freely from you until he is positively drunk on you. 

“You are so warm agnellino,” he moans, reluctantly pulling away from you only to tear off his loose shirt and rip off his trousers. He fits himself back on top of you, desperate to be as close as possible and ruts his aching length against your hip, his mouth latching back onto your neck. He rears back giving you the opportunity to see him for the hunger ridden monster he is, but it only makes you want him more. His face paint is smudged across his face, the once precise lines blurring and blending with what remains of your blood and your juices, and his eyes sparkle with something dangerous that you can't resist. With a snarl he forces your legs wide so he can see all of you, his fingers digging a bruising grip into your soft thighs.

“After tonight you will never again doubt my existence,” he growls as he fucks into you in one long, hard stroke. There is no waiting for you to grow accustomed to him filling you; he just takes you hard, pushing the air from your lungs every time he fills you. He is rough and demanding and you crave every part of this more animalistic side to him. Your blood loss and his body worship have pushed you outside your own body, the pleasure and the pain meeting and blending and pushing you into a euphoria you had never experienced before. 

Even as his control was slipping even further away, his cock aimed perfectly, fucking into you in exactly the right place over and over while the drag of him inside your tight heat forced sobs and gasps from both of you. In the state he had you, you knew you would do anything and everything he wanted and if you hadn’t been so light headed, you might have realised that that was exactly what he wanted. He grunts as he pulls you closer, angling your hips just so that he can fuck into you even deeper, your moans of satisfaction harmonising as somehow your pleasure grows stronger than you ever thought possible. 

“Has anyone fucked you like this since me, little lamb?” He is panting, hardly able to get his words out, somehow seeming more human even in the midst of his monstrous lust. 

“No,” you whine. There is no use denying it, because who could possibly compare to him?

“Bene,” he snarls, a possessive sneer crossing his face. “No one will ever, ever fuck you like me.’ You sob in agreement as the burn in your core grows, bringing you so close. Babbled nonsense falls from your lips. You can only hope he understands how little you need to push you over the edge. 

Thankfully something you said must have made sense, because in the next moment his thumb is stroking your clit in time with his ever more frantic thrusts and the wave of your climax begins to crash, sweeping you along in its powerful tide. Your vision greys at the edges and vaguely, somewhere amidst the buzz, you feel him reach his peak just behind you as his thrusts stutter before stilling as he fills you.

Inelegantly he pulls away, landing beside you on the bed. He pulls you to him stroking your hair and dotting your forehead with sweet kisses. Contentment surges through you as you rest against his chest, his lack of heartbeat barely registering. 

“You are so very sleepy, little lamb,” he breathes into your hair, and you can only spare a thought to agree as you succumb to the overwhelming pull of sleep. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~

The cold and stale morning air lures you from your sleep this time, a much less pleasant awakening than your last. Your whole body aches as you shift and try to take in your surroundings. You are alone. The dawn light spilling through the drapes allows you to see, and the bedroom appears dusty and abandoned, not the cosy boudoir you had experienced last night. 

The dusty sheets cling to your clothes as you try to stand but every movement reveals a new bite mark or bruise until you are on your feet. The worst pain though, is the ache in your heart. This should have been expected and yet the fact that he isn't here hurts. Rather than satisfying you, this second encounter only made you yearn more for this terrible, mysterious man. Your only consolation was that now at least, you will have plenty more to write about. 

You don't try to call out to him, already knowing how futile that would be, so you look once more around the room, trying hard to commit it all to memory when the night stand catches your attention. A single white rose sits atop a folded piece of paper. You pick them both up, carefully making sure to avoid the sharp thorns and unfold the paper to see that unmistakable handwriting. 

We’re standing here by the abyss

And the world is in flames

Two star-crossed lovers reaching out

To the beast with many names 

He is

He’s the shining and the light without whom I cannot see

-iii

His words were cryptic as ever but you let it fill you with uncertain hope. Maybe you were the star-crossed lovers? Or maybe not. All you knew for now at least, was that you felt you were still at the very beginning of this story…

…and you couldn't wait to see where it would take you. 

hide and seek | steve rogers ; 3

summary | You had a history of playing this game. Steve looks back as he waits on the other side of the door.

words | 5.1k+

genres | angst, fluff, e2l

pairing | steve rogers x agent!reader

warnings | mentions of blood

note | this was supposed to be part of the final chapter but I unintentionally wrote it too long and I felt like there will be a lot of things happening if I add this there. Don't worry, the finale will immediately follow. For now, here is a not-so-little back story on how they met.

main masterlist | series masterlist

“Doll, Y/N…” he called out softly. He heard a muffled sob and he knew that you are crying not because of that sudden headache. It took a few more knocks and calls before you answered.

“Please, leave me alone, Steve.”

It breaks his heart to hear your broken voice as you pushed him away again. But he would never get tired no matter how hard you try to hide your real emotions from him. This isn’t the first time you hid from him. If he have to beg for you to show yourself, he would. 

“Please talk to me. I’m here, sweetheart.”

Louder sobs followed from the other side of the door. He rested his hand on your door, looking down at his feet. This is torture. As much as he wanted to talk to you last night and clarify his plans after returning the stones, he still wanted to wait for you. He is draining any remaining patience he has in him because he knows how badly you two need to speak. 

With you hiding or running away every time he tried to reach for you, it reminded him of how you arrived and disappeared from everyone’s lives before. 

“She is a newly hired agent, employed specifically by me. Agent Y/N will be working closely in the IT unit.”

Steve crossed his arms as Fury introduced you to everyone in the room, The Avengers. Except for Thor, he was in Asgard. You don’t seem intimidated though since your face has a neutral look. Your eyes were impassive. At first glance, you looked like a simple lady who goes to her eight-to-five office job. You wore a plain, white blouse and a black pencil skirt, matching your low-heeled pumps. Natasha had the same pose as Steve, but she seemed proud as she looks at you. Clint, who was next to her, offered you a single nod. Bruce gave you a short, polite smile. Tony was the first one to say something.

“Just because I told you I’m taking a break, you’re hiring a new girl for the tech?” he seemed offended as he talked to Fury. He, then, turned to you,  “Can you go out for a sec–”

“I don’t think you would want me to leave after letting me in in your highly secured building,” you spoke nonchalantly while looking around.

Fury smirked, “Y/N has very sharp memory skills and is a master hacker. Also, she has been trained as a martial artist ever since she was eight. She used to work as a spy and marksman for various groups and organizations.”

“Who were you working for before?” Bruce asked.

Instead of answering the question immediately, you turned your head to Nick. He gave you a single nod.

“I worked for a lot of people. I don’t really know most of them since the higher-ups just give me assignments. I was required to follow with no complaints or else…” your voice trailed off. Everyone in the room could see your eyes getting lost for a second before you sighed heavily. 

Steve later learned that Natasha was originally the one who brought you to SHIELD. It was Natasha's solo mission to take down the training program you were in. Out of almost fifty people in that program, you were the most proficient and definitely the only one who almost defeated the Black Widow herself. She talked you into coming with her while having an intense one-on-one battle with you.

 

“We were both already bloody by the time I took her to the jet.” Natasha quipped. “She later revealed that she was also the one messing up with my comms when I got into their location.”

Before you are officially recruited, you went through tests and interviews with Fury and Maria. You refused to answer without Natasha's presence. Like she was your lawyer or something. But at that moment, she was the only person you trust from SHIELD. You can feel her genuine empathy and honesty to you when she also shared how she got into SHIELD.

Just from hearing stories from Natasha, Steve can tell that you are highly skilled in what you do. But he cannot help to be curious about the sudden recruitment of you. SHIELD already has its practiced IT department, why hire a new one? It became more suspicious when you were separated from other IT specialists in the organization. You have your office on Fury’s floor in the SHIELD headquarters in Washington. In your first weeks, you worked in the office. A month after your arrival, you were assigned to join Steve and Natasha to retake the Lemurian Star that was hijacked by pirates.

“Why is she joining us?” Steve asked Natasha while they waited for you to finish your briefings with Fury. “Isn’t she supposed to be with Fury all the time?”

“She is not his assistant, Rogers. She’s also an agent.” she reminded him, rolling her eyes.

Steve didn’t say anything more. You later joined them in the debriefing with STRIKE while on the quinjet. Steve noticed how quiet you were. You didn’t ask any questions but you seemed focused and ready for the task. You simply nodded when he assigned you to your spot. Steve jumped off the aircraft first. 

Minutes later, he was asking for everyone’s update in the comms. You were the only one not responding if you were in your spot. Just when Steve smashed Batroc into one of the rooms, he sees you pulling out a flash drive from the computer. Your unbothered eyes met his. His eyebrows scrunched together. He was about to say something but the pirate threw a grenade in your direction as he escaped. With your shared coordination, you two jumped to another room. Both you and Steve tried to catch your breath as you two ran for miles.

“Let’s go back to the jet,” you whispered almost breathless. You stood up and walked away, leaving Steve more confused.

“It’s weird to stare.” 

Steve automatically moved his gaze away from you. You two are now in a smaller aircraft SHIELD sent out on the way back to the headquarters. Natasha is with STRIKE and other hostages on the other quinjet. There was an apparent air between you two as you sat in front of each other. You put your leg on top of the other as you continue, 

“You know, if you have questions, you can just ask.”

Steve didn’t hold back and went straight to what he was curious on, “What were you doing with that flash drive?”

“I was getting some files,” you replied matter-of-factly.

“What files? Why?”

“That was my mission.”

“Our mission is to rescue hostages,” Steve stated. He is too annoyed to notice you only answered one of his questions. 

You shook your head, “No, that’s your mission, Captain. I have mine.”

The jet was landing already but you and Steve continued talking.

“You almost jeopardized the whole operation.” he hissed.

“How so?” You raised an eyebrow. “The mission was done well, right? No one really died or got hurt except for the pirates. I retrieved the files I was asked to get while you saved the hostages. I don’t really see any jeopardization there, Cap.” 

You are too composed that Steve can feel his blood boiling from your headstrong attitude, “What are those files for anyway?”

“Eh, none of your business,” you answered cheekily, standing up from your seat.

“Did Natasha even know about this?!”

He did not receive the answer as you strolled out of the jet. Almost half an hour later, Steve marched into Fury’s office later that day, still wearing his stealth suit. Just when he was walking in the hallway to his door, you were walking out of the said office. His jaw clenched when you greeted him with a sarcastic smile,

“Oh, hey, Captain.”

He ignored you, looking ahead. As soon as he entered the room, Steve expressed his dismay and frustration to the director, who was quick to defend you from him. 

“Agent Y/N had a different mission than yours.”

“Which you didn't feel obliged to share.” Steve interjected, “I can't lead a mission when the people I'm leading have missions of their own.”

To gain his trust again, Fury showed him the plans for Project Insight. It didn’t last long since Steve decided to leave before another argument began. He was a few seconds in the elevator when the door opened, revealing you. You now wore a more casual outfit than the one you wore on the mission. Jeans, a striped shirt, and a denim jacket. You also have glasses. It was a new look of yours that he sees since you often wore normal office clothes. There were seconds of silence, only the sound of you opening a lollipop wrapper can be heard. Steve pursed his lips before asking,

“So, the data are for Nick?” You remained quiet and he took it as a silent answer for yes. “

“Look,” you took the candy from your mouth and turned your head to Steve.  “I understand that you don’t really trust me since I suddenly showed up here. I don’t trust you either, okay? You don’t have to waste your time speculating about me and my presence around you. I swear, if you’re going to search my name on Google again, I’m gonna put the worst virus in your phone and computer.”

Blood came rushing to his cheeks and ears. He did search for your name on the Internet. It was a dumb move but he was itching to have any kind of information about the people you worked for.

You proceeded, “I’m just here to do my job to Fury. Not to SHIELD. He needed my skills, I needed to pay for things I’ve done before. Once I cleaned off some dirt on my name to him, I’ll get off this organization.”

“You’re leaving?”

He didn’t mean to sound disappointed but he was obviously surprised. You eyed him like you did not expect him to have such a reaction. You two were in the middle of your exchanged glances when the elevator let out a sound, signaling that you have reached the ground floor. You were the one who broke the exchange, walking out.

“Goodbye, Cap.”

With your stuffed backpack and tied-up hair, you walked farther away. That was the last time Steve saw you. Then, a lot of things happened. A day after that last interaction with you, Fury was shot in Steve’s apartment, where he take possession of the same flash drive you had. Natasha helped him in finding out what was in it. When he asked her about you during a drive to New Jersey, she said that you don’t really plan on staying to be a SHIELD agent or maybe an Avenger.

“She’s probably soul-searching somewhere.” Natasha blurted out, staring out the car window. “That girl has been through shit. The training program she was in almost worked in the same way as the Red Room. She should be living her life the way she wants.”

They discovered later that SHIELD was infiltrated by HYDRA. While in Sam’s place, he wondered if you knew about it. Maybe that was your secret mission to the director. More events happened. He saw Bucky once again. Fury was shown to be alive, aided by Maria Hill. He half-expected that you were with them in their secret facility but you were not. They took down SHIELD and the group’s hidden files were leaked by Natasha to the Internet. Your information is, of course, nowhere there. It was like you made sure that you will never be found by anyone again.

More years and events passed. Ultron happened.  You still passed by Steve’s mind every once in a while. The Sokovia Accords and Avengers split happened. He was too busy that he finally got you out of his head. After laying low, Natasha helped Steve in getting the imprisoned Avengers in the Raft. He had no idea where to go. But fortunately, Natasha says she knows a place where they can stay.

“She…is alive.”

Steve watched you quietly as you socialize with Wanda and Sam. For the first time in years, he saw you again. You welcomed their team into your isolated farm in a foreign country, offering them more comfortable lodging and meals. He was surprised to see you go out of the house when Natasha was landing the quinjet. You still wore the same plain expression on your face but he can see from your eyes that you were more at peace.

“Of course, she is. She just left the country and lived a different life.” Natasha chuckled, sitting beside Steve. “You knew she is alive, right?”

“I did… I guess. But seeing her again after a long time is like a confirmation.”

In their first few days, you and Steve didn’t really interact. You have a large homestead farm, he can see how you can manage living by yourself. He’s been wanting to talk to you. He was unsure why but he knows he wants to apologize. 

“Be patient with her. She doesn’t really talk much about herself to new people unless needed.” Natasha once told him.

“I’m no stranger to her. We worked together before.” Steve spoke defensively.

Natasha clicked her tongue, “Please. In the whole two months she was in SHIELD, you never personally introduce yourself to her.”

Before Steve can get lost in looking back on the time he met you, she spoke again, “If you really want to talk to her, you can try. Just try and have patience.”

Two weeks exactly after they arrived at your place, Steve asked if he can come with you when you were leaving the house to work around your farm. You scanned your eyes from his head to toe before looking back at him again, “Okay.”

“I’m just picking fruits today. So, there’s nothing really much to do.” you shared.

The weather was perfect. The morning sun was kind enough to not be too hot for your skin. You two strolled far away to the house. You seemed more comfortable this time as you were humming some melody like a little kid. Steve’s heart warms seeing that you seemed better than the time you got recruited.

“I really appreciate you letting us stay here for a while, Y/N.” he began, making you pause. “And I want to apologize for being too cynical of you before.”

“It’s fine. I understand,” you replied, not turning around to properly talked to him and just continued walking to one of the trees. “I was someone who have a bad record and worked for wicked people. I wouldn’t trust me either if I were you.”

Steve cannot see your face but the emotion in your voice speaks a lot. It was clear as the blue sky that you still carry the burden of whatever happened in your past.

“It’s not your fault,” Steve spoke softly.

Finally, you turned around, instantly meeting his eyes with a melancholy smile, “I know. But, I still did it. My hands will forever be stained by all the things I’ve done… ”

He can see your eyes turning glossy before you blinked and looked away. You were quick to shake off any threatening tears that could show your weakness. Suddenly, you opened your arms, presenting the tree next to you with a grin.

“Here is my favorite tree in the whole yard!” 

Steve would be lying if he say that he didn’t find it amazing how fast you can change your expressions, almost believable. But he didn’t talk about it. He lets it pass since you seemed pretty excited telling him about the fruits. He didn’t know how long he helped you pick out various fruits such as apples, peaches, and a few oranges. But he didn’t notice that the basket he was holding was full until you pointed it out and told him that you two should wander back to the house.

“How did you have this farm by the way? If you don’t mind me asking.” Steve inquired carefully.

“An old couple sold it to me for a low price. I paid them with the money I got from Nick after doing that job for him. At first, I was aiming for the couple’s house only since I loved how secluded it is. Then, they told me that this farm is included, which was amazing since it can help me avoid driving away to the city every other day for food. So yeah, I bought it.” 

Steve thought that that will be the longest dialogue you would ever say to him. But as every day went by, you got more relaxed in telling him about yourself. You two bonded over early morning coffee chats and picking fruits. And yes, Steve introduced himself to you, letting you know that you can call him by his name. You introduced yourself too with slight mocking:

“Okay, Steve. I’m Y/N. Don’t worry, that’s my real name. Google won’t give you any other name of mine.”

You love waking up early to see the ravishing sunrise while Steve sometimes struggles to fall asleep as he thinks about Bucky in Wakanda and the aftermath of the accords. So, most of the time, the other Avengers in your house will see you two in the morning sitting on the top steps of your front porch with two cups in between.

“Wanda said she’s planning to go with Vision,” Steve confessed in one of your mornings.

You don’t seem surprised as you continued to look ahead and take a sip from your cup, “Yeah, I know. They’ll be staying in Europe.”

“Do you think it will be safe for them?” he expressed his worry with that question.

“He’s an android robot made of vibranium. She can move things with her mind. Steve, I think they are going to survive.” you grinned. But Captain America seemed too serious and concerned with his friend, so you turned in his direction, “Look, they’re going to be fine.  Wanda and Vision are a literal power couple. I don’t think they will let anyone hurt or even lay a finger on them. And based on what Natasha told me, she can see Wanda still evolving her power. I cannot imagine what more she can do when someone hurt anyone she loves. And I know you guys will always come to them if they ever needed help.”

You two sounded like parents who are having a conversation about letting their daughter go live independently. Steve nods at everything you said. Maybe he’s just overthinking things. 

“Whatever you are feeling, it’s fine. You are their leader and you are just concerned about your members.” 

That was the first time he felt your hand over him, giving it a soft squeeze. He saw you doing it to Natasha once when you two were talking alone in the kitchen. He didn’t mean to eavesdrop but it was time Natasha was talking about her sister. You also gave her comfort through your words just like how you did with him now. Other than being a spy or hacker, Steve learned that you were a great friend to everyone too. You and Sam get together well and you can ride along his jokes. With Wanda, you enjoy cooking and watching something on your television. You even prepared an impromptu going away dinner for her before she leaves with Vision. You are like a shapeshifter who can easily get along with everyone.

“Yeah, I definitely became a shapeshifter at one point.” you joked one time. You were getting cozy in one of your cool early mornings with him. You were wearing a white cardigan over your grey nightgown. “By the time Natasha leaked all of SHIELD’s files, I was already out of the United States. I am always ready. I have fake passports and identification cards for different purposes before. I erased all of my information from SHIELD before I left, I knew the government will be after me if I didn’t.”

“Where did you go?”

“I moved from one country to another. It’s fun, you know? Trying out different names and identities. It’s like playing hide and seek.” you shrugged. “Unbeknownst to me, Natasha and Clint were both tracking me down after Ultron happened. They thought they can ask me to join you, guys to avoid such tech issues again. But after what happened to SHIELD, one of the highly-secured organizations before, I don’t think I would want to join any kind of group.”

Steve nodded, “Yeah, it’s hard to trust again after that.”

“That’s why you didn’t sign the accords,” you mumbled like it was a fact.

He didn’t answer but you both know that it was the truth. You two let the silence slip at the moment, only watching the far sky. It was like a painter’s work of art. The rising sun painted the sky with captivating, calming shades of orange, yellow, and pink. Steve tilted his head in your direction when he heard you slowly let out a shaky breath. A single tear rolled down your cheek, making him concerned.

“Are you okay?”

You chuckled, wiping your eyes with the sleeves of your cardigan, “I just love the colors so much.”

You met his furrowed brow gaze. You tried to smile but your lips trembled, “T-This is my fourth year out of that horrible training program. Thanks to Natasha.”

Steve smiled as he was happy with that. You sounded proud and he wanted to maybe greet you for this achievement. But your tears don’t look like from joy, it seems painful.

“Also the same day my mom was shot dead in front of me and I don’t know what to feel about it,” you admitted, sounding more defeated. “I never really got to cry about her death since I was brought to the program right away and we were not allowed to feel anything there. We cannot laugh, cry, or even hum anything. We will be punished if we don’t follow. That… that really sucks.”

You chuckled, one of your many ways to cope. Steve watched you with sympathy. 

“Yet I got away. I’m here.” you wept. But tears kept coming in. “But with all the immoral things I’ve done as a spy, I don’t know if I deserve to be here or feel happy at all. I don’t know.”

It’s not your fault, Steve wanted to remind you again. But you continued, “And I usually spend my days alone. I always try to work around here to distract myself from any kind of emotion. But now, to sit here in peace with someone, in front of this sunrise, my feelings are really all over the place and I feel unworthy of it.”

Gently pushing the coffee cups aside, Steve scooted closer to you. He wrapped an arm around your slumped shoulders. He lets you cry to his shoulder, damping that part of his shirt.

“I know I should feel happy for escaping hell. But my heart hurts so much.”

For the first time in years, you admitted what you have been feeling inside. You never told everyone about it before. Steve is very much aware that you just shared the most intimate confession you had and he appreciates you trusting him with it. 

Two, three, or four minutes flew by, Steve is still holding you to his shoulders and you were calming down. He felt you lifting your head.

Your chest still heaves from your sobs when you spoke, “I-I’m sorry about that. I probably got carried away–”

You stopped when Steve shakes his head side by side slowly, “No, it’s fine. You don’t have to be sorry for everything. It’s okay for you to feel emotions. You’re a person and everything you are feeling right now is valid. You can express whatever you want. Laugh. Cry. Sing whatever song you want. You’re free. No one’s going to hurt you now.”

The moment he said that last sentence, he read the relief showing from your glistened eyes. Your shoulders were shaking when you cried harder. You turned your head down, hiding your face. Steve’s hands carefully reached down to your cheeks. His thumbs softly swiped the trickling tears.

“Feel free to take your time processing your emotions. You can cry for now but you don’t have to carry it with you all the time. And you will never be alone now. You accepted this group of war criminals in your home, so we will stay with you forever. You have no choice.” he tried to lighten up the mood and he grinned when he heard your lips letting out a giggle. “Natasha is here. I’m here. You can come to me, okay?”

You nodded wordlessly against his palms. Steve smiled and you did too, showing more ease than earlier. You looked back at the sky, and he mirrored. The sun is about to shine bright with the white clouds any time now. The mix of colors is almost gone. 

“Everything you said meant a lot. Thank you, Steve,” you murmured. Your eyes are beginning to puff and get weary from that bucket of tears you poured out. You opened your arms and you two shared the warmest bear hug. 

“Thank you for opening up to me, sweetheart,” he replied before planting a kiss on your hair.

That moment unquestionably got you two closer. Your two other housemates, Natasha and Sam, were not shy about showing you two that they noticed it. They would sometimes tease you about it. But you two shook it off.

“Y/N, this is obviously favoritism.” Sam accused you.

Steve and Sam were playing scrabble. Natasha was keeping scores while you check their words in your hefty dictionary book, also given to you by the old owners of the farm.

“No, it’s not, Mr. Wilson. The word was here in my handy dictionary. It’s acceptable.”

The Falcon rolled his eyes, “No one uses flapjack in a sentence anymore.”

“You just did.” you teased him.

Both Natasha and Steve chortled. Sam gaped his mouth open, dramatically reacting.

That’s how their first four months happened in staying in your house. Steve almost forgot that they were just laying low. They still have to be alert to every danger that comes to Earth. Of course, with your tech skills, you still helped them with getting information and making useful gadgets for them with limited resources. Steve was thankful that you lend your skills in tracking growing harmful groups in different countries.

“Can I join you guys?”

Steve paused from fixing his boots when you suddenly barged into his room with a single question. It was unexpected. Earlier that day, Wanda, who’s currently in Scotland, sent out a message to you about Vision’s mind stone. Something strange was going on with it. Steve, Natasha, and Sam immediately planned to go to them as soon as possible. 

“Are you sure, doll?” 

Steve stood from the edge of his bed and walked to you. It has been two years since they came to your quiet farm and they’ve done a lot of missions with your assistance for their techs. But you never volunteered for going on missions.

“I am. I feel like I’m ready and I can help. I will be a great backup.” you insisted. Steve knows something’s going on in your head to make you have a decision like this. He seemed to be thinking deeply, so you added, “I can feel that this is a big mission, Steve. I don’t think I can just sit and wait for you three to come back here. I really want to go this time.”

Steve stared at you even longer. He knows that you are fit for joining them, you are one of the most competent persons he has ever known. But he doesn’t want you to be placed in any dangerous situation. It was like after knowing for a couple of years, all he wants is to keep you protected in this private land you own. But with your strong-willed attitude, he knows he can’t. 

“Steve, you know that I will still go with you even if you say no, right?” you calmly asked.

“Then why are you still asking me this?”

You gulped, stiffened your posture, “Because… I want you to know that I trust you and you are important to me. Even if I won’t follow you if you’ll say no, you are important to me.”

With how quiet the whole room became, he can hear the heavy beats of your heart. He knew, by the rhythm of it, that it was almost identical to his own heartbeats every time he sees you at the start of his day.

“I know you are already Captain America but I want to be with you in all of your battles. I want to fight next to you than to stay here, wondering how are you.  I want to protect you. So I can make sure that I will still see you at the end of the day. I want to make sure that I will hear your voice calling me whatever nicknames you like because I love it. I love it and all the other things you do for me. The simple meals, the walk to the trees,  the coffee sessions in front of sunrise, and all the hundreds of kisses you left on my hair, forehead, cheeks, and nose. All of them. And sometimes, I wish you just–”

Absolutely caught off guard, Steve pulled your waist closer to him and placed his lips on yours. You didn’t react at first but you kissed him back. And at that moment, he cannot think of anything else except you. Your charming smile, your hearty laugh, and the humming of your voice every time you two walked outside to pick fruits. He suddenly felt your fingertips combing through his growing hair. He gasped when you slightly pulled his hair. But before the kiss could deepen, you pulled away.

“Your beard tickles,” you murmured, making Steve laugh. “But I like it. You looked really good with it.”

Instead of responding, Steve just peppered your face with kisses.

“Okay, I’ll take that as a ‘Yes, you can go with us’.” you giggled.

Steve raised a brow, “It means to say ‘I love you’. But yeah, sure, come with us.”

You squealed and ran out of the room to prepare. Steve grinned seeing you so excited. But then, you come back, poking your head to his open door.

“Oh, and I love you too.”

Steve already played this game with you before. Now, he is willing to wait. But it’s hard when it feels like you’ve been pushing him farther and farther away.

additional a/n: whoo! that was my longest writing. i'm really sorry it took me long to update. I'll be posting the final/next chapter of this series before posting for my other works. that's all. thank you for reading<3

HIDE-AND-SEEK TAGLIST

@t-stark35 @wyzevans @cevansssimp @studio--celeste @haruvalentine4321 @themerc-with-a-mouth @smackmyassseb @royalwritersoftheuniverses @daregisuniverse @nostxlgia18 @dnovastark @omgadrianauniverse @mysafespaceblog @whatsmyhairtype @jdbxws @nana1000night @vesta-ro

I HAVE SM TO SAY. firstly, this guy used to swim 24/7??? EXCUSE ME???? like just picture him with wet hair getting out of the pool I Am Not Okay. secondly, this interview with him feels so raw and intimate, like we’re really getting to know him and things hes passionate abt and it melts my heart how he starts rambling abt theatre and film :((

this man is my soulmate, im fucking convinced. HES INTO ART, POETRY (to be more specific, EGDAR ALLAN POE AND SEAMUS HEANEY LIKE???) AND MOUNTAINS??? (also why did i believe he was an only child😭) how much more husband can one get. we alr knew he’s a gift giver and great cook and now this??? im losing it

also, ive seen people compare him to cumberbatch and now knowing that he was one of his earliest inspirations after seeing hamlet, im so proud of him for being on par with one of the finest people in the industry. one of my fav parts of this interview has to be how excited cam gets when hes talking abt theatre and acting. it feels like hes in his element. u can feel just how much he loves this not because its his job, but because its an art form.

😭😭 he got his outfit tailored on ft?? i cant imagine how chaotic that must’ve been and the fact that he wore it around the house 😭😭

oh my god his music taste >>>> idk why but i always saw him as a classical, indie, 70s or 80s music kinda guy. he listens to johnny cash, bob dylan AND ELVIS?? oml yup this man is indeed the loml.

hes so into football istg 😭😭 get someone who loves u as much as cameron loves liverpool. HE EVEN HAS A SIGNED JERSEY ON DISPLAY IN HIS LIVING ROOM AS IF ITS A TROPHY LMFAO

i think this whole interview is just making me fall harder and harder for that man. i just connect sm with him, the way he wasn’t originally into art but after delving into it, he realized how much one can feel just by a painting and relate to it. he himself belongs in the an art museum. imagine him painting as an escape from reality & you’re his muse yea im gonna rip my hair out

it was such an amazing read and i found sm more reasons to love this man

Who wants to see some old cringe selfies of vintage millennial fashion?

So, the backstory behind most of these pics is way back in 2010 I got a job at Target for a few months and during that time most days I had to wear a red top with khakis as my work uniform and I very quickly started to get bored with the monotony. So I decided to do some bathroom photoshoots of the different outfits I had at the time besides the red tops I was wearing every day. I pretty much don't have a single one of these articles of clothing anymore, except for a couple of necklaces. Most of these I think I got rid of because I gained a lot of weight after I got a car, if not because my tastes evolved or they fell apart on me.

This first collage is a bunch of all black outfits.

The scarf I'm wearing in the first one was a souvenir my sister got me from the gift shop at Alcatraz when she was on a school trip. It's got a fake stamp printed on it that says "Rejected: Too Cute".

Second outfit, I think I got from Forever 21, both the dress and the thigh high boots.

Third outfit was probably mostly made of JCPenny pieces. I used to wear it to a lot of job interviews, not that it helped because the job market sucked almost as much back then as it does today. Also, those heels were from Payless and although they were cute, they were absolute murder on my flat feet. I held onto that tie for a long time with no shirt to wear it with because they don't really even make women's blouses anymore that button all the way up and even when they do, I can't wear them because all button-up blouses gape on me. Also, can't really find vests anymore, for that matter.

Fourth outfit I think I got from Value Village.

First outfit bottom row came from Kohl's and I bought it after only looking at the hanger and not the actual tag, but despite the dress being an XS and me wearing a medium at the time, it miraculously stretched far enough to fit, so I kept it.

The off-shoulder top I got from a local retailer that is actually still in business today with a handful of locations that have shifted to different suites around town over the years, but never shut down.

The velvet outfit I believe was either a hand-me down or an old church outfit that used to be knee length before I cropped it into a hi-low skirt.

All of these outfits by the way I wore in my late teens and early 20s to school and walking around town before I had a car. Nothing I own now or have ever owned is a date outfit because I don't go on dates.

First outfit in this teal/turquoise set is probably my most cringe. That headband was really ugly with my short hair, and I don't think that long top over a short skirt and cropped hoodie combo was a good look.

The top from the second pic came from a gift shop at Niagra Falls from a school trip I went on my junior year of high school. It originally had black felt ribbons, but the first time I washed it I didn't realize the ribbons weren't sewn on, so they came off and got destroyed, so I replaced them with turquoise ribbons that were sewn on.

Third top I'm pretty sure came from Gottschalks before it went bankrupt and got replaced by a Forever 21, if that doesn't carbon date me like the fossil I am.

The top in the first two pics on the bottom row I used to normally wear with a pair of black jeggings. Hear me out though, these were not yoga pants with a fake denim print slapped on top, they actually had texture like real jeans and I think a button and zipper even. The pockets were still fake, but they were actually sewn-in faux-pockets like they have on normal pants, not a print. They were basically just very thin, very elastic form-fitting jeans I wore so I could have a smoother silhouette under long shirts. I actually still own the necklace I'm wearing with that top, but I never wear silver anymore, so it's getting donated soon.

Last dress in the teal set is another piece I got from the same place my off-shoulder top came from. I might've even gotten them at the same time.

First top I got from a specialty online goth fashion shop. I actually didn't have my own credit/debit card at the time because I was still in high school, but my sister told me if I gave her money and she didn't think it was cringe/inappropriate for school, I could show her things I wanted to buy online and she'd get them for me. So that star top was one of the things I got along with the goggles and fingerless gloves seen in other pics, and an assortment of other accessories from when I was deep in my Hot Topic Mall Goth Invader Zim-core aesthetic phase.

The corset I'm wearing in the next three photos had no boning in it, so it wasn't uncomfortable to wear, except for the fact that it didn't stay in place or hold its shape like a corset should. I got that corset from a local retailer that closed down, in a mall that has since become a dead mall.

In the middle row, I believe I got both the top and the cardigan from Forever 21.

The brown outfit in the middle of the middle I think I got from JCPenny, except the green top, which came from Forever 21. Shoes might've come from Payless. That was my second go-to job interview outfit and I miss it a lot. I tried looking for those pieces on Poshmark once so I could recreate it. But it turns out the brown top and skirt actually came from the junior's section, so there's no way even the largest size I could find it in would fit me now.

I think the silky green skirt and the green sweater in the next couple of pics also came from Forever 21.

The butterfly top on the bottom row I think came from the same store where I got my corset. I don't wear heels anymore, but I also don't wear converse anymore either because zero arch support is just as uncomfortable as heels on my flat feet. I don't wear headbands either because they aren't comfortable anymore. Every one I try just squeezes my skull too much.

The green bustier-looking top is another one of my most cringe outfits because it was constantly rolling up.

The next top after it is also pretty cringe, cause it's just an unflattering shade of neon green.

The last outfit was one of my most frequently worn from late high school and throughout college. I used to wear it with a pair of dangly guitar-pick shaped GIR earrings that my sister got me when she went on a trip and got to visit a Hot Topic before we had one locally. At some point I swapped out the GIR earrings for a pair of zipper pull earrings because my sister told me the GIR earrings don't go with the rest of the jewelry I wore with it.

The navy crop jacket was another Forever 21 piece, and I think I got those agonizingly painful booties from there too.

Then there's my Butch Girl Style Icon Dib Membrane shirt that I had to alter to fit right because it only came in a men's size.

The next outfit below was a hand-me down velvet shirt/jacket thing that I turned into a dress.

Last outfit is probably my oldest. I think most of its components I got as far back as middle school, and I think they were hand-me downs even then.

I used to love that purple cardigan until it got stretched the fuck out in the wash. I think it came from the same place as the off-shoulder top and the teal dress.

The next top I believe was another Gottchalks piece I might've had as far back as middle school. It used to be a hideous brown/olive green until I dyed it, but it was already getting threadbare even then.

The purple cowl-neck outfit I think I also got from the same place as the purple cardigan.

Last outfit is another one of my most cringe outfits with yet another overlaying piece that rolled up all the time.

Closeups of some necklaces I wore in some of the above pics. I actually still have the black flower necklace, but that's another one that's getting donated soon because I don't wear silver anymore. I totally forgot it used to have another black chunky chain attached before I removed it. The soda tab necklace I made myself and painted with nail polish. I actually made several necklaces and bracelets out of soda tabs, some of which I handed out to my friends.

Bonus:

Me in one of many iterations of a black belted jacket I've worn throughout the years. I don't have this specific jacket anymore, but once I started wearing them, I've never not owned a long, black belted jacket as my main staple piece of outer wear. So I've never really escaped my Zim-core roots.

This pic was taken by somebody at my college paper. They saw me waiting for classes to start and wanted a picture of me for an article on fashion. I got a few copies to show my family, but they also posted the article online. Not a lot of people saw it and there were only a couple of comments, but none of them mentioned my outfit and one of them said something to the effect of "None of these outfits are in style and the writer of his article has no business giving out fashion advice cause everyone knows Alaskans are always 5-10 years out of date on the trends".

The Back Room

I've been on a Nathan kick, and I wish there was more stuff out there that wasn't straight porn without a plot. Original Female Character (WOC)

"But you have a digital footprint. So it can't be separated. You’re a Cancer whatever the fuck that means.."

You've been working at Blue Book for over three years, and you got the job by chance. Your friend who went to college with Nathan Bateman told you to apply; even if you didn't go to MIT didn't mean you are bad at coding. As your friend reminded you, and you bite the bullet, when you first arrived for the interview, mind you fly all the way from New York to Cali to even do the interview, remote interviewing wasn't a thing yet. You impressed some twat in a button-up shirt and black joggers, as you knew you would. You know you're shit, and you also had the backup in cyber security, so you could help with hacks…if there ever were one. You talked yourself up well; you simply got the job. But you've never met Nathan Bateman. You honestly don't think anyone in your group has, maybe the higher ups. You never really thought about it really, he pays you a good amount sum, and you have a condo in the bay area. All your friends over on the East Coast are super jealous of you, you find it funny because how could they? Sure, you have good money, you have a nice condo, but you also have a blue book phone which you know because you help code it, Nathan could know everything about everyone. It was strange, to the point you bought an Apple phone to take personal calls and everything else, which is strongly frowned upon but you didn't care. You know Apple or google isn't any better but honestly, it's better than your boss knowing everything about you. It's beyond creepy, seeing how you never met the man. You also learned how bad it was frowned upon when you were in a work meeting, and none other than Nathan happened to be in the building, and in your work meeting. Thank god you wore something really fashionable and looked good, unlike your usual jeans a tee, and hair in a bun. You had a lunch date and you had to look good; and of course it's this day the gods were looking down on you blessing you. "Wow you look….like a human." Jacob your direct superior said as you pursed your lips a bit before shaking your head. "I'm glad you noticed." "How can I? you usually look like you rolled out of bed to come here." "Cause usually I'm up until 4 am when I'm supposed to be here at 8 am because you throw random projects at me; that takes all my time." She smiled sweetly over to her boss, as he narrowed his eyes at her. "I hope that wasn't a complaint." He tone was strained, and his eyes looked over to the right of you, causing you to look at him like he has six heads. "Of course it's not, if I hated the job I would have left. I'm learning from gen z." You joked before looking over and seeing Nathan sitting there just watching and listening in, you knew if your skin was pale,, your face would be red, bright red, you let out an awkward cough before sitting in your normal seat. 

“No, it's not a complaint not at all.” You said pushing back your hair that is annoying you now behind your ear, of course, you had to have it curly and out today. Of course, it just causes you to sweat more under pressure. Oh my god, am I getting fired you thought, and instantly you started picking the nails around your skin, and you just did your nails. 

“I called you in here because there is a break in one of your codes,” Jason said, and you looked at him with a little laugh. 

“No there isn’t, I checked, I doubled, I even tripled check before doing the update. What do you mean there is a break in my code?” 

Now you’re sweating double time, this isn’t true it can’t be. You’ve always million times checked your work; you even made sure everything was perfect because you had a date lined up. It wasn’t possible, it can’t be possible. “Since last night, Blue Book serves have been glitching and as you say you’re up till four-‘ “No, this time I went to bed at a reasonable time, because I knew it was perfect. I have plans for lunch, no no it’s perfect. I wasn’t the last one to touch it but I can be the one to fix it.” You said looking at Jacob directly not looking at Nathan even if you feel his eyes on you. 

“Well you’re gonna fix it.” “You know you can see who actually touched it last but okay, yeah I’ll fix it.” You said back to him angry now, embarrassed and beyond livid.  You instantly pulled your laptop out which is from blue book of course, and went into the code. 

“Is that all, or do you need to speak to me more?” You asked, not even looking up at Jacob, pressing in keys to find the mistake. 

A mistake that wasn’t yours. 

“No, Mr. Bateman and I want to see you fix it.”

“Oh sure, no pressure.” You mumbled to yourself, as you kept your focus on your laptop. 

As you were deep into the laptop, you heard your phone go off, but you ignored it. You're freaking out, but you're balls deep into the code, trying to fix the mistake someone made. Not you, of course, you didn't touch it. "Is that a phone?" "Is it Apple?" Jacob asked. "Um, yeah, it's my personal phone line, I'll get it in a second." 

Because nothing is more important to you than fixing this code. You could feel the glare coming from Jacob over the apple phone thing. You knew he was going to rip you apart, but everyone knew you hated having a blue book phone; it was one of the things you disliked the most was your boss, who is now staring at you as you’re finding the broken link, with no emotion on his face. You might die after this.

Might put your two weeks, you never liked working under pressure, or stress and this moment is both of them rolled into one enlarged dick that is fucking you right now. And you’re barely could handle it, you know you can’t but you’re fighting through it. 

"What did I say about apple." "Not important right now." You grumbled back as you hunched deep into the code, and you found it, you fucking found it. "AH ha! You shouted, and quickly your fingers were lightning on the keyboard; as you were going and pressing/E to fix, then the link came back, and you furrowed your eyebrows, and you did it again, and it happened again. "There isn't a broken link," you said, looking astonished before going back into the code. "Someone is hacking. We have a hacker on our hands." "What the fuck!?" Jacob said, now freaking out, and you rolled your eyes before looking at Nathan before looking back at the computer. It was like chess. You and the hacker were going back and forth, and with every closed door you gave, he kicked it right open, and you were getting annoyed. Okay, so this little shit wants to go. You thought as you cracked your knuckles, then slipped off your blazer. You quickly went back in the zone, and with every move you made, they were better, and every time you hit them with someone, it was tik for that, and now you're pissed off. You wrapped your curls into a bun on the top of your head. "Okay fucker, what do you want?" You mumbled as you typed it into the code. To show that I can fuck with the blue book.

Do you think you’re not going to jail dude…Just curious

I don’t give a shit  I want to take down Nathan Bateman. 

why

Because he’s the scum of the earth you work for a scum bag. eat the fucking rich. 

You didn’t respond because by the time you were would have responded you wouldn’t have found the ending. You’ve never typed so fast before in your life and you finally pressed enter and the door was officially closed. You laughed a little bit and leaned back into your chair, and sighed deeply. “I did it, I kicked the hack out. Also found out where he lives so if you want to press chargers.” You turned to look at Nathan as he nodded his head. “Impressive.” He said looking you up and down. “Email it to me, and I will send it to my lawyer. Jacob speak to PR and get a press release out.” 

You nodded your head, as you went to grab your personal phone Nathan looked at your phone then at you with a look you can only call disgust and he was gone. You just sat there as Jacob looked at you, before pulling out his vape. “I swear he was going to fire you.” He said coughing out smoke as you just glared at him. “What?” “Thanks for the fucking warning, my morning has been ruined by this you jackass!” You yelled at him before snatching up the laptop and running off towards your own desk. Your hands shook as you looked for Nathan email. You were about to email the head boss, and you just sat next to him and he was disgusted with you. You for sure is about to get fired. [email protected]

Subject: Address 

Good Morning, Mr. Bateman. I was following up with you about the address. The hacker lives in Austin, Texas. His street address is 555 Anderson Mill Road, A pt 1. If you need anything else, please reach out. Respectfully, 

Christina.

God, was that good or christ? Should you have CC’D Jacob? You’re not even sure anymore. You canceled your date on lunch, in sulk at your desk until you left for the day. Until you got home and heard a DING from your work phone. You furrowed your eyebrows, looking in your mailbox. NBateman:

You did good today, finding a hacker is a tough job. You should know, Jacob inability to know it was a hacker. I also saw you have cyber security under your resume as well, and it makes sense. I have a job for you. I don’t like to offer jobs over email. Are you free tonight at ten? We can meet in person. 

Your eyes widen over the idea of this man not only emailing you, but he wasn’t disgusted by your iphone or you. He wants to meet in person and not only that, he’s offering you A JOB! You were internally screaming kicking your feet around out of excitement. You screamed loudly before responding back. CReyes:

Ten o clock, yes I am free. What’s the location? 

Now you’re stuck, he emailed you back a restaurant and whew it was fancy. Shit now you gotta change your clothes, Jesus christ, you looked at the time it was 6:50, you had time. You rummaged through your closet to find anything remotely okay for this place and to impress your boss. Christ you’re sweating all over again. You’re gonna die, there is no way you're meeting this man. Its impossible virtually imfuckingpossible.

_

You barely had time to breathe as you walked in and saw the server. You walked into the restaurant, hands sweating; you wore the most expensive dress you could wear, an old Tom Ford dress you find thrifting; it was black, so it was perfect for a night out, slick ad smooth. Unlike your hair which was just ringlets everywhere, you figured if he saw you like this at work, he should be fine seeing it again. “Hi, I am meeting up with someone.” She looked me over with an unbelievable look. “His name is Bateman.”

She rolled her eyes, looking down the list, and she had to see Nathan's name as she looked back up at me and rolled her eyes again. “You’re not here for Bateman.” She said as you pursed your lips. “I am. Thank you.” You responded with a fire in your eyes. You were about to rip her head clean off of her shoulders. 

"Seriously? I doubt that; you're not his type." She rolled her eyes again as you were beyond pissed off and now running late to this important dinner. "Ma'am, can I get my seat at the table before I lose my goddamn mind?" You snapped, and Nathan appeared before the girl could go back and forth. "You're late." He said to you before he grabbed your elbow and pulled you along. You felt smug, sticking your tongue out at the girl as he dragged you to the table. 

Finally getting to the table, you almost forgot that Nathan's hands were on your elbow and lower back. You could almost still feel it as he let you go quickly before sitting in his chair across from you. He looked you over at once and nodded his head. “Sorry, she was giving me a hard time.” “Yeah, I know; I fucked her, that’s why.” He said bluntly as your eyes widened over to his admission. “I was drunk. It was a one-night thing; I made her sign an NDA and moved on with my life.” He said as you just stared at him in shock. 

She is not wrong about you not being his type; this girl was blonde, fake tan, and taller than you. You two look nothing alike. You are barely 5’1, with olive skin and dark brown hair in unruly curls. “Well, she was right about one thing I’m not your type.” You said with a small smile, and he looked over at you. “I don’t have a type; I fuck who I wanna fuck. Don’t care if she’s black white, yellow, whatever.” He said in a harsh tone, and you nodded your head. Nathan isn’t your type at all; you like to be sweet-talked. This dude is as hard as a rock. And Aggressive, your flight or fight mode is in high gear around him. “Well, that’s good.” After drinking some water, you said that to pivot off the conversation, you wanted to ask about this new job, but Nathan had something else to ask. “Do you have a type?” he asked, looking over at you, and you stared at him, confused and wondering if this was professional. 

“Um.” you said looking at Nathan perked eyebrows before looking down at the table cloth. “I have like a strict thing about keeping my personal life and my work life separate.” You said to him and you bite your lower lip. “It just makes life easier.” 

“But you have a digital foot print.” “I do.” 

How would he know that unless he went looking? 

"So it can't be that separate." He said back to you as you looked at him. "You're a Cancer, whatever the fuck that means; you're twenty-seven years old, and you grew up in New York." He said back to you as you looked at him. "And I saw you had a blue book employee as one of your friends, so clearly, it's not that separate." 

“Touche.” you said back to him but you think of Amy as the girl who isn’t really close to anyone in Blue Book other than you, and she barely works on your side of the office, she works in PR and you work in coding. It’s different. “So do you have a type?” He repeated as you looked at him with a confused look on your face, you were saved by the waiter. 

You were safe and got pasta with shrimp in it; and a red wine that Nathan ordered. You were a red wine girl, but you would be one today. “What was the job offer?” You asked with a smile, hoping he forgot about the what’s your type questions. You know he didn’t, and he knows you’re trying to change the subject, but he allowed it. “I see you have cyber security; I need someone good at that. I am building a lab and need all the security I can get. And now I could build it myself, sure, but that would take ages, and I rather have someone I could trust.” He said, looking at you. “I mean, I don’t know you, but you work for me, and you’ve already signed an NDA, so I can legally trust you.” 

“Okay, I’m good at that stuff yeah, and setting up CCTV’s.” “Good. You would have to get rid of your apple phone though.” He said over to you as you looked at him. “You know for security purposes.” You clenched your jaw as you looked over at him. 

Check mate. 

You couldn’t argue; he wasn’t wrong; it would be an outside source in his lab. You were fuming on the inside, but you just let a smile recover the anger. You had to, this was a job you needed, and it was better to be away from Jacob. “How much?” You asked, now holding back the anger.

“I’ll send you everything in paper form. Now, What’s your type?” He asked as you stared at him and you could see his eyes dazzling in excitement. The first emotion you’ve seen sitting across from him. 

Check Mate again. 

“Well, I don’t have a type.” 

He blinked over at you, trying to see if you were lying. The waiter saved you again when your food came, and you thank the gods above you. The rest of the dinner was Nathan talking about what he thought bluebook should be at by next year, and you just listened.

As you were leaving, Nathan walked you to your car because what a gentleman. His hand pressed low on your back, not professional, but he was guiding you where to go. As you finally found your car, he stood by your driver's door, leaving it open. "Christina, you lied to me; you have a type." He said as you furrowed your eyebrows at him; as you went to close the door, he held it. "Don't lie to me again." He said before closing the door for you. He turned on his heel and left wondering what the fuck is his problem? 

Cause seriously what is his problem. 

Kyrie Irving hints that he regrets not having been...

Kyrie Irving hints that he regrets not having been... Kyrie Irving kept the NBA and practically the world in suspense last year with his decision to get vaccinated against Covid-19, which caused him to not be able to play until January and miss more than half of the regular season games -he only played 29 games- , due to current vaccination mandates, especially the one in New York, which prevented him from playing home games. The controversial point guard hinted in an interview with ESPN that he might regret not having been immunized.  "Do I have any regrets looking back at the past year? I would be lying to you as a human if I said no. I think we all think about the times we could have made better decisions , and the times we wish we had done things differently and been better." I feel the same way sometimes throughout my life... I legitimately just want to play and not put too much pressure on myself or the people around me. Let's let the season pass and then we'll go back to reflect and talk about these things in more detail, but right now that can't be my focus," Irving said in a conversation with Nick Friedell.  Irving, who will be a free agent in the summer, had the possibility of renewing for four years and 100 million The 30-year-old point guard, whose contract ends in June, revealed on the Nets' Media Day that he could have signed a four-year, $100 million extension, something he ultimately did not do. Asked about it, Kyrie Irving replied, although his answer was not entirely convincing:  "I stay patient, I just want to be in the present, remove distractions, have fun with this profession. I'm only as good as my team and the people around me. And they keep me very grounded and balanced in terms of what my goals are ." , what our goals are, and we focus on them. I can't control what people think of me, everything I'm doing is putting myself in a position to lead and be an example. And I have high aspirations to leave a legacy in this league and how many years it takes me," answered Irving, who is looking for his second ring with the Nets after the one he wore in 2016 in the Cavaliers with LeBron.  Kyrie Irving hints that he regrets not having been... The foreigner born in Melbourne shares a country of origin -Australia-, with his new partner, Ben Simmons, another controversial base with whom he has discussed the noise they generate on social networks and that Irving takes with philosophy. "It's an emotional time in the world. People attack other people for what they believe, for their jobs, whatever. So criticism is part of it, but what's justified is how you respond. It's the moment when you wake up and realize that this is not actually your life, that you have a loving and support system of people who take care of you, and that I have to give honest answers to," Irving reflected.  READ MORE: Shaquille O’Neal says Lashes Out Hard At Kyrie Irving How do I as a group leader make Simmons feel supported? I think one of our strengths as a human community is humanizing our lives with each other. He's a human who's going to respond in his own way. And he's going to to deal with things his way and we have to respect that. That's what people with integrity do. Not everyone lives by those moral principles so yes, as a leader, I feel like it's my responsibility to protect him, but I also have to understand that he has to do things his way. And when he helps, I'm just there for him," the point guard explained about his relationship with Simmons.  "I will never retire, do you hear me?" Irving surprised when asked how much longer he wants to compete. "I'm never going to stop playing. Do you hear me? Get that, I'm never going to stop playing. This is not a debate. This is not a consideration," Kyrie snapped. However, admitting that he will not be able to stay at this level all his life, he then qualified his answer, implying that he would like to be a coach.  "I want to be a bridge, show people what it's like to play at this level, teach youth... what it's like to reach this level, to be a professional. I was already a professional at 9 years old, because I did more than going to school, spending time with my friends, with my family, I did it day and night. It was a passion, but I also chose it," said Irving, his feeling as intense as basketball as the varied amalgamation of feelings that awakens in others the always peculiar base.  Read the full article

“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?

or

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

Barking Up The Wrong Tree

 Ransom Drysdale One Shot

Summary: It’s the Annual Pre-Easter meal at the Thrombey’s and Ransom and you are in attendance. As usual, there’s fireworks, a lot of swearing and there’s only one way you know he can get rid of his frustrations…

 Warnings: Bad Language words. SMUT (NSFW) NO UNDER 18s!

Pairing: Ransom Drysdale x Reader

A/N:  So this was originally written last year for @jennmurawski13​ who requested a smutty one shot with an Evans character of my choice for her birthday. It was coined from a Brainstorming sesh me and @icanfeelastormbrewing​ had for our intended Ransom x OFC series (we might get round to it in 2022…so by then you’ll have forgotten if we use it again.) FYI Eighteen year old Ransom is totally Bryce from Fierce People, you can’t convince me otherwise… I also very much now see this being the same Reader as in mine, @ohthankevans13​ and @sweater-daddiesdumbdork​’s  Real Life Tasks With Ransom Drysdale series.

Your brown leather, knee high Saint Laurent boots (a gift from the man whose lap you were curled up on) were on the floor by your feet leaving you in your grey, woollen over-knee socks. One of your boyfriend’s large hands was resting on your left shin, the other just at the top of your right thigh, almost on your ass cheek. You were well aware your black sweater dress was riding up so went to shift and shimmy it down a little, conscious that you were, after all, sat in the large drawing room at his grandfather’s house whilst the rest of his family milled around as the pre-Easter dinner, which always took place the weekend before the actual holiday, was being prepared.

“You okay?” Ransom looked up at you, noticing you shift on his lap and you smiled.

“Yeah, just don’t want to flash everyone too much if you get my drift.”

Ransom cocked an eyebrow at you, then peeked around the room, before he gave a snort as his eyes fell on his cousin Jacob who was watching the pair of you.

“Yeah, we wouldn’t want Adolf junior getting a boner now would we?”

You gave a chuckle as you re-arranged your dress, making yourself more comfortable.

“He’s just a kid, Ran.” You soothed.

“He’s a deviant, Princess.” He replied, his voice quiet.

“So were you when I first met you.” You grinned, looking at him as you bent closer to whisper into his ear “Still are when the mood takes you.”

Ransom pulled back to look at you, his face inches from yours, his eyebrow raising slightly as that dirty smirk spread across his handsome face. “Stop it.” He warned, and you shrugged innocently, as he placed a soft kiss on your mouth.

“Come on son, put her down.” Richard’s voice rang across the room and instantly you felt Ransom’s entire demeanour change. Gone was the relaxed, jokey, happy Ran you knew and loved and in his place was Hugh Ransom Drysdale, asshole extraordinaire.

“Piss off, Father.” He shot back, his head moving back from yours, fixing his dad with a steely glare.

“Hey.” Richard glowered “Don’t speak to me like that…” he turned to Linda. “Did you hear that Linda?”

“Ransom…” Linda said lazily, not looking up from her phone. “Don’t speak to your father like that.”

Ransom rolled his eyes and you gently looked at him, shaking your head, silently telling him to stay calm. It was always the same with the Thrombey family gatherings. Ransom despised them for the simple fact that Harlan was the only one he had any time for, bar his mother on a good day, and you were inclined to feel the same way. It always ended in chaos, each individual nuclear sects within the extended family trying to get one up on the other, prove they were the best players in the game.

Frankly, they made the fucking Lannisters look normal.  

All your friends were constantly asking you how you managed to stay tangled in this web of dysfunction, but the answer was right in front of you, his crystal blue eyes now narrowed as he shot a sarcastic reply back to his mother.

The simple truth was, you loved him and couldn’t walk away if you tried.

It hadn’t always been that way, mind. When your High School had been asked to submit nominations for the coveted position of Harlan Thrombey’s Summer research assistant, you’d been short listed along with 15 other candidates from the New England area. Each of you were asked to produce a five-thousand word thesis on a literary subject of your choice to be submitted for reading by Harlan. You’d been ecstatic when you received the call from his Publishing Company to say you’d made the final three and were requested to attend an interview.

You’d been and bought a new suit. Nothing fancy but decent enough quality. You made sure your hair was tamed, your make up was as on point as you could get it, and had driven the thirty minutes or so out to his mansion from the home you shared with your Nanna in Brookline, following the directions on your GPS to the area near Pierce Park where the Thrombey Mansion was located. You were greeted by his housekeeper and shown into the large office where the man himself was waiting. Harlan was nothing like you had expected him to be. He was eccentric, sure, but also dmaned good fun. He’d asked you a few questions about why you wanted the position “I’m going to major in English at college and I hope to work in publishing when I graduate, this would be an invaluable experience.” He had then discussed your paper with you and after a few more general questions he had reduced you almost to tears of laughter by telling you a about an incident when he had been at college and was almost caught climbing down the trellis of his girlfriend’s parent’s house following a late night rendezvous of the very naughty kind “Don’t think too badly of me, we ended up married for forty-seven years…”

Then, just as he was showing you out of his study a tall, well-built young man, your age you had correctly guessed, with a strong jaw, dark hair flicked to the left side of his forehead, and a pair of the bluest eyes you had ever seen, waltzed down the hallway. He was dressed in a pair of riding breeches, a polo shirt and wore a long pair of tan leather riding boots.

"Ransom?” Harlan looked at the young man “I wasn’t expecting you till this afternoon.”

“Yeah well, the fucking horse I should have been riding is lame.” Ransom shrugged “Which means I can’t ride, and I probably can’t compete this weekend.”

“Dressage?” you had asked, your mouth speaking well before your brain had engaged, for some reason thinking it was a good idea to comment. Ransom had looked at you with disdain, scanned you up and down and cocked his head to one side, his eyes cold as they locked onto yours.

“Polo.” He had answered, a sneer on his face “Do I look like a dressage rider to you? Mind you, from the state of your cheap high-street dress the nearest you’ve probably ever been to a horse is those shitty little trail rides they run at kids parties.”

“Ransom!” Harlan had snapped sternly “Enough!”

You felt the heat rise in your neck and cheeks, and you drew yourself up to your full height, folding your arms as you looked at the ass hole stood in front of you. One thing your Nanna had told you was that, despite your humble origins, you were as worthy as the next person, no matter how much money, status or self-importance they may have.

“My apologies. I always thought polo was played by arrogant, snobby, stuck up pricks.” You retorted as you made a show of looking him up and down in the same way he had done to you. “Actually, on second thoughts, I should have guessed.”

As soon as the words were out of your mind you let out an internal groan. Way to go, flush your chance of landing this summer internship down the fucking toilet by insulting Harlan’s grandson. Nevertheless, you held the gaze of the man in front of you who stared back, his expression and face utterly stoic bar the blink of surprise his eyes made.

You heard Harlan chuckle behind you and the old man dropped a hand to your shoulder. “Fran, could you see Miss Y/L/N to the door.”

Two days later Harlan had personally called you to offer you the position, and it had turned out to be everything you ever wanted, and more. Three weeks into your internship, to your utter surprise, Harlan confessed that he had been looking to fund a worthy, local candidate through college and as the successful applicant it was yours for the taking. Some strings had been pulled, and in the last week of September thanks to his generosity you started your English Major at Harvard.

And so did Ransom.

He pursued you with a dogged determination, seemingly viewing your indifference towards him and his advances as some kind of challenge. You weren’t fooling yourself, however. He was devastatingly handsome and your traitorous vagina and that part of your brain that controlled your libido harboured a deep desire to fuck his brains out, a desire you finally gave into at the end of your first year when, following your final exam, you got drunk and woke up the morning after in his bed.

It wasn’t all puppies and roses though. You were on and off more than his boxer shorts, as simply put, Ransom was a player. And it didn’t bother you to start with. He was a hook up, a way to relieve tension when you needed to, and he was a very handy person to know with his seemingly endless network of connections. But by the time you graduated you knew you were head over heels for him, and needed to break this seeming cycle of being in and out of his bed.  So you turned down Harlan’s offer of a job at Blood Like Wine and were ready to move away from Boston after landing a job at a publishers in Manhattan…but then your nanna had been taken seriously ill and suffered a stroke meaning you had to stay.

As a result of her illness, your nanna was unable to live in your house in Brookline alone and so you were forced to sell it so she could afford to move into a supervised Retirement Village a five minute or so drive away. You were now jobless, drowning with the house-sale which would leave you homeless, and your emotions and been all over the place. You had no other family since your Grandfather had died at the start of your senior year so had no one to turn to.

Enter Hugh Ransom Drysdale.

You’d called him one evening, drunk and emotional and needing a release and he came over alright, but instead of fucking you into the mattress he made sure you drank water, ate something, and then got you into bed. The next morning, Harlan had shown up, telling you the job offer at his company was still open, and then to your utter surprise and initial horror he had offered to buy your nanna’s house, meaning you could remain there as a tenant. At first you had refused, insisting you weren’t a charity case but Harlan had simply waved your concerns away by insisting it was an investment. After a little discussion he agreed to allow you to pay rent which, all things considered, was a pittance in comparison to what other properties the same size in that area commanded but it was a rent nonetheless and made you feel better.

And you knew all of it had ben Ransom’s idea.

This was the side to Ransom he very rarely displayed to anyone. A softer side, a caring side, a gentle side. A side that held you as you cried at the thought that your nanna was growing old and may soon leave you behind, a side that made you a sandwich when you hadn’t eaten in days, a side that helped you pack up and move your Nana’s stuff to her new home, a side that turned up at 9pm with several tubs of ice cream and a bottle of wine after you’d messaged him earlier that afternoon to tell him what a shit day you were having when his Uncle Walt was being a dick at work.

The rest, they say is history. History which meant you were now curled up in his lap some eight or so years post that initial meeting in the hallway of this very house, listening to him bicker with his family, feeling his leg beginning to shake in that way it always did when he was agitated.

“Ran…” you said gently, squeezing his arm and you felt him take a deep breath and he looked at you, his mouth closing as you shook your head “Don’t.”

He turned away, looking to the other side of the room and his face glowered as he spotted Jacob once more had his eyes trained on your bare thigh. God the pubescent creep did his fucking head in, and if he stayed here he was going to end up putting the lanky streak of shit through the wall.

“Can we go?” Ransom looked at you, tucking your hair behind your ear.

“We’ve not even had dinner yet.”

“Please.”

That single word was enough to make you understand. It was a word he hadn’t learned until he’d met you, when he realised that his demands and arrogance got him nowhere with you. He still rarely used it mind, but when he did, you knew he was in desperate need of what he’d asked for.

“How about we take a walk?” You suggested “If you still wanna go after then we will”

He took a deep breath as he considered what you had said. Compromise was another word that hadn’t been in his vocabulary until you. His eyes locked onto yours and you looked at him, encouragingly and he took a deep breath, nodding.

“Okay.”

You uncurled yourself from his lap and stood up, him following so you could sit down and place you boots on.

“Are you leaving?” Linda asked, looking up for the first time.

“For a walk.” Ransom said simply, grabbing your hand and pretty much dragging you from the room. He didn’t say a word as he reached the coat stand and retrieved your lightweight Ted Baker belted mac, holding it out for you to slip your arms into, in a display of chivalry he reserved only for you. Once you’d done it up, he took your hand in his and you headed through the kitchen and outside into the reasonably mild April afternoon.

“Don’t let them get to you.” You said softly, leaning into him a little and he sighed, untangling his fingers from yours so he could drop his arm round your shoulders. He hated the fact his family could make him feel like this, like he wasn’t in control, like he was insignificant in the grand scheme of things. He could quite happily go without seeing any of them, well, bar maybe his grandfather, but you had told him he would regret it if he pushed them away completely because you had always wished you’d had a large family unit like that. So, despite the fact he knew deep down that was a load of bullshit, he played the game. He attended the damned gatherings more for your benefit than any as you adored Harlan and seemed to get on fairly well with Joni, Meg and his mother. He hung onto a glimmer of hope that maybe one day it would all change and he’d feel part of it.

But it never did. And he never did.

The two of you walked in comfortable silence across the Mansion grounds, round the lake where Ransom stopped by the small pier, looking out over the water.

“You know my most vivid childhood memories are of this spot.” He mused, his gaze focussed over the lake “Grammy used to bring me down here to feed the ducks.”

“It’s beautiful down here.” You agreed, snuggling further under his arm. “Peaceful.”

“Yeah unlike that fucking house.”

You gave a chuckle, as his hand curled over your shoulder, absentmindedly rubbing over the smooth material of your coat. He was agitated, you could tell, and there were very few ways in which he could calm down when he was like this. One was riding his beloved BB- a polo horse Harlan had bought him for his 21st, one was the pair of you curling up on the sofa with snacks and a good scotch or bourbon, getting drunk and watching Trashy Films, in particular horrors-you both loved to pick plot holes and insult the main characters, declaring the victim a dumb bitch for running up the stairs and not out of the door and the other, well…

You glanced around, checking you were alone before you pulled away from him, taking his hand and tugging on it slightly.

“What?” he asked looking down.

“Come on.” You gave his hand another pull.

“Y/N?” he questioned again, but followed nonetheless despite you not answering. You tugged him away from the lake, into the thin thicket of trees a little further round. You could still see the house here but you knew there was no way anyone from up there could see you.

“Seriously, Y/N what the fuck?” he groaned, as he stepped in the slightly squelchy mud “You’re gonna ruin my Gucci’s…” “Should have worn something a little more substantial then shouldn’t you?”

“I didn’t know you were planning on going fucking hiking in the fucking woods.”

“That’s not what we’re doing.” You said, stopping in front of a large oak tree, looking up at him.

“Then what are we doing? Reconnecting with Mother Nature? Or are we on the hunt for Oberon, Titania and Puck?”

“Ooh, good Shakespeare reference.” You grinned at him and he rolled his eyes as you slid your hand up over his navy blue lightweight Barbour jacket which was done up to his sternum, leaving his plain white, Armani t-shirt slightly visible at the neckline. “Does that make us Lysander and Hermia?”

“You got a hidden suitor called Demetrius I don’t know about?” he arched an eyebrow, his hands falling to your hips.

“Nope, I’m all yours Tiger.”

The sound of your ridiculous nickname for him drew a large smile across his face and he shook his head, giving a genuine chuckle. Here, with you there were no annoying voices to listen to, no family politics, nothing to care about but the gentle brush of the wind as it blew through the canopy of trees above your heads and the faint sounds of birds as they went about their business and Ransom felt a sense of comfort. Because you were his rock. The one person that saw through his bull shit, the woman in his life that knew all his horrible personality traits as well as his slightly less horrible ones and loved him all the same. The girl that had rounded off his harsher edges no matter how much he protested to the contrary.

You were his better half for sure.

“Well that’s good, because I don’t like sharing.” Ransom smirked, dipping his head to capture your lips in a soft kiss.

“Don’t I know it.” You mused against his mouth. His fingers flexed on your sides, pulling you closer to him as he slid his tongue across your bottom lip. You opened your mouth slightly, allowing him control over the kiss, knowing that’s what he craved when he was like this. His lips were soft on yours, tongue domineering as he kissed you deeply, slowly. Eventually he pulled back, his nose bumping yours slightly as he gave a little chuckle.

“I know you’re trying to distract me from those shit heads in the house.” He said, his tone playful and you loved playful Ransom. Another side to him only you really got to see.

“Is it working?” You played along.

“Yeah.” He nodded, his lips pressing to yours again.

“Good. Now why don’t you let your inner deviant come out to play?”

“You don’t need to ask me twice, Princess.” The words were barely out of his mouth before he had pressed you into the harsh, earthy bark of the tree behind you, kissing you hard again, groaning as you palmed his crotch through his designer denims. He grabbed your wrist, pinning it above your head before he did the same with the other one, easily holding both in place above you with one large hand, his other softly tracing up the outside of your thigh, fingers skating under your skirt.

“Is this why you wore this?” he smirked, toying with the material slightly. “So you could tempt me away for a fuck in the woods?”

It wasn’t, it was because it looked and felt good, but you decided to play along “Maybe. Was it a good choice?”

“Damned right it was…” he growled against your mouth, his long, soft fingers sliding your lace panties to the side. His index finger traced a path up your slit and you gasped at the feeling as he gently began to toy with you. Soft, teasing touches, his eyes never once leaving yours. That was one of his things, he liked to see your face, watch as your expressions changed as he undid you, fuelling his ego. Your hips gently started to move in time to his strokes as he played you, like an instrument from which he could always draw a tune. And in no time at all, he was listening to the music as you let out a soft keen, a purr almost as your head fell back against the tree, your mouth parting slightly.

“Like that?” he asked, and it was all you could do to nod, panting brokenly as the familiar feeing began to rise in the pit of your stomach, the fire growing hotter and hotter. “God you’re a fucking minx. Come on, cum on my fingers, you know you want to.” And you did, hard, your knees trembling, as you let out a loud cry of his name as the lights exploded in front of your eyes. Ransom pressed into you, his erection evident as it dug into your stomach, keeping you pinned between him and the tree as he coaxed you through your orgasm, before he moved his hands, allowing yours to drop to his shoulders as you held onto him tightly.

The clanging of a belt buckle, then the zipping of trousers and the rustling of fabric broke through the post-orgasm haze as Ransom undid his flies, reaching into pull out his painfully hard cock. He gently pushed forward, sliding the tip against your folds, gathering your slick as you gave a moan, the feeling of him sliding against your clit sent lances of red, hot desire through your veins.

His hands gripped the back of your thighs as he pulled you off the ground and you hooked them round his slim waist, ankles locking at the base of his spine. In a swift, fluid moment, no teasing, no gentle ease, he buried himself inside you with a deep thrust making you cry out as he filled you. His lips crashed onto yours as he drew back, then thrust back in hard, his cock dragging against your walls inside, hitting that spot that he knew would leave you seeing stars.

Yes, if there was one thing on this Earth Ransom knew he was good at, it was fucking you.

His lips traced a path from your mouth to your jawline, then to your neck, biting and sucking at any bit he could get to, his hips moving back and forth in a slow but deep pace which was torture, and you needed more.

“Ran, harder…” You groaned, digging your heels into his ass and he gave a dirty moan of his own as his hands held your hips.

“You’re such a needy little slut.” He smirked against your lips, not waiting for your reply as he picked up the pace, his hips snapping back and forth with a vigour that was merciless as he pistoned in and out of you again and again. Your hands gripped his shoulders tightly as you kissed him, teeth clashing together as your back repeatedly brushed against the harsh, rough surface behind you as you clawed desperately at the material of his jacket.

It wasn’t long before you felt another orgasm brewing and your head fell forward, teeth nipping at his ear drawing a growl from his throat. Your hands moved into his hair and you pulled sharply back causing him to hiss and look up you.

“Fuck, Y/N….” he groaned, the pupils of his eyes blown wide with a desire you would never tire of seeing. You pushed your hips down against him causing him to drive deeper and you let out an almost primal cry, the noise you made simply revving him up even more, his rapid movements growing even more urgent.

“Fuck Ran…” you moaned as your head rolled back against the tree, hands back on his shoulders, as once more that snake in your belly moved. Ransom felt the tell-tale flutter of your heat tightening round him and he continued his voracious pace, his eyes locked onto yours.

“You feel so fucking good…” he panted “So fuckin’ good Princess...”

His words made you moan again, and he pushed up once more, stilling slightly, grinding up against you as opposed to thrusting and a few rolls of his hips later you were done. The world faded around you as you came hard, with a loud scream before your head dropped to his shoulder, as you moaned his name, again and again whilst he pounded through your orgasm chasing his own.

“Shit, Y/N…I’m…fuck…” his words tumbled into your hair as his movements became desperate and he came a short while later with a loud yell. You felt him fill you up, as his hips stilled and he groaned, face buried into your neck, his chest heaving, sweat beaded both his brow and yours as he simply pressed into you, panting and shaking.

Neither of you had any idea how long you stayed like that, but eventually Ransom managed to gain enough control to pull his softening cock out of you and set you gently on your feet as he brushed the tendrils of your hair that had fallen over your face back with a tenderness he reserved only for you. He said nothing, simply looked at you, his lips gently greeting yours in a soft, loving kiss, a stark contrast to the violent ones you had shared moments before. You smiled at him, unadulterated love in your eyes as you moved your hands to brush his hair back before you leaned up and kissed him again, your nose sliding against his.

“I adore you Hugh Ransom Drysdale. Don’t ever forget that.”

“Don’t fucking call me Hugh.” He grumbled and you chuckled as he pulled you to him, nuzzling into your hair as he sighed. “But for the record, the feeling is mutual Y/F/N, Y/M/N, Y/L/N.”

You gave a laugh and were about to reply when you felt his head snap up, and his entire body tense and he let out an angry cry causing you to jump.

“Jesus Fucking Christ! The perverted little shit!”

“Ran?” You saw his face contorted in anger as he pushed back from you, striding away from the tree, rearranging his jeans as he went before he broke into a sprint. You watched him go and then, to your horror, saw the retreating back of a smaller male running away from the thicket of trees on the curve of the bank to your left and you felt yourself grow cold.

Jacob.

How long he had been there Ransom had no idea but he chased the little fucker all the way to the house, yelling insults and threats as he burst into the kitchen. Ransom finally caught up with him just as he ran into the hall and grabbed the kid by the collar, spinning him round and pinning him to the wall, arm crossed over his windpipe. “Enjoy the show did we?!” He yelled, the noise drawing the rest of the family out from the sitting room into the tiled hallway. Walt started to shout angry threats about what he was going to do to Ransom if he didn’t take his hands off his son, which then sparked Richard to bite back at Walt saying if he touched Ransom he’d give him a damned good hiding. If Ransom hadn’t been so focussed on the dirt little bastard he had pinned to the wall he would have laughed because the idea of his dad fighting anyone was hilarious, he couldn’t fight his way out of a paper bag.

“Give me your phone.” Ransom demanded.

“I didn’t…” “GIVE ME YOUR PHONE NOW YOU PERVERTED PRICK!” Ransom yelled, and reached into Jacob’s pocket, grabbing his hand where it was curled around the offending item, bending the boy’s fingers back. Jacob gave a yell, pulled his hand out of his trouser pocket and Ransom seized the phone, yanking it out, just as you walked into the hallway.

He looked at you, then to Jacob and saw you pale as the realisation washed over you that you’d not only been seen but recorded or snapped, by a twelve year old boy nonetheless.

“Unlock it.” Ransom demanded, thrusting it back at him.

“Now listen here…” Walt started until Harlan turned to him.

“Walt, shut up.” He barked, turning to Jacob “Unlock the phone, now Jake.”

Jacob sullenly took the phone from Ransom and did has he was told, Ransom snatching it back. He glanced down at the screen, flicking to the Gallery and let out an angry noise as he saw not only footage of you both in the woods but ten or so photos of your bare thigh and close ups where he had attempted to see up your skirt when you had been on his knee before. Thankfully from the snaps there wasn’t really anything visible, but still the fact he had even taken them in the first place made Ransom apoplectic with rage.

“You dirty little prick.” he mumbled, looking back up at him. Jacob visibly recoiled under Ransom’s glare.

“Ran?” You questioned as you gently touched his arm and he tilted the phone so you could see the screen and your eyes widened, your entire body growing warm as you saw the close up of your thigh on the screen.

“How the fuck dare you?” You exploded, glaring at Jacob.

“Can you explain what he has supposedly done?” Donna, Jacob’s mother spoke for the first time and you turned to face her, your pretty features contorted in rage.

“He’s…” You shook your head “Taken photos of me, before up my skirt.”

Noise erupted in the hallway, Joni and Meg screaming about you being violated, Richard and Linda yelling at Walt and Donna whilst Harlan shook his head, making a noise of disgust. Ransom ignored them all as he selected the photos and images, deleting them, and showing it to you.

“Gone, Princess.” He turned the screen off before he leaned over and kissed your temple.

“Look, he’s a teenage boy…” Donna was protesting “He’s a bit curious…”

“He’s a dirty bastard.” Richard snorted and the irony wasn’t lost on Ransom as he’d seen his father eyeing you up on more than one occasion. He looked at his dad, eyebrow raised as Jacob bit back at the dig.

“I’m a dirty bastard?” The pre-teen snapped, his eyes flicking from Richard to Ransom “I’m not the one that was having sex against a tree!”

Everyone paused and their heads turned to you and Ransom. You gave a groan, your hands sliding up to your face to hide your utter embarrassment, but besides you Ransom’s expression never changed because, well frankly, he couldn’t give two shits about everyone knowing what you had been up to.

“I’m a grown ass man.” He snarled “If I wanna fuck my girl outside on private property I will”

He held Jacob’s phone out to him, but as Jacob went to take it Ransom opened his hand, dropped it to the floor with a loud “oops” and stomped on it, the metal and glass crunching under the heel of his expensive, leather boots.

There was more yelling, and Ransom simply turned, taking your hand in his. “We’re leaving.”

This time you didn’t argue. The pair of you walked away, ignoring the screaming which grew fainter as you headed down towards the large front doors, only to hear Harlan calling after you. Ransom stopped, took a deep breath and tuned to face his grandfather.

“Y/N are you ok?”

“Of course she’s not.” Ransom snapped but you gently squeezed his hand, shaking his head.

“I’m okay Harlan, thank you. But I think its best we go before Ransom commits murder.”

“Well, I can assure you I’m not far off killing the little turd myself.” Harlan shook his head, sighing. He then took a deep breath, looked at Ransom, and there was a flash of something which you knew only too well to be amusement in his eyes. “Which tree?”

Ransom frowned “What?”

“I asked which tree you two were doing the naughty against.”

You groaned as Ransom blinked and then shrugged “Just in the thicket to the south side of the lake, near the little jetty. Why?”

“Well, instead of barking up the wrong tree so to speak, next time stick to the North side.” Harlan grinned cheekily “It’s in the dip and no chance you can be spotted by anyone unless they’re a foot or so away.”

Ransom’s mouth curled up into a smirk as he looked at his grandfather then to you.

Meanwhile you simply wanted the ground to open up and swallow you.

Harlan bid the two of you goodbye as you headed out to Ransom’s Beemer. He stopped just besides it, turning to you, his hands falling to your hips again. “Well, I don’t know about you, Sweetheart, but all that excitement has made me a bit hungry. Seeing as we’re not getting dinner here, how about I take you to Asta?”

Your face lit up at the mention of your favourite restaurant and you gave an eager nod before you frowned “Aren’t we a little underdressed? And it’s Saturday evening, we’ll never get in.”

“Baby girl, enough money can get us in anywhere, and you look fine.” He said, dropping a kiss to your lips before he grinned “You might wanna brush the twigs outta your hair though.”

***

Title : The way your eyes burn my soul

Pairing : Gruvia

Summary : Surprise!

Spotlights were shinning brightly, illuminating the dark interview hall, but what set the hall on fire was the audience's energetic ovation.

At the center of the hall, the interviewer, a beautiful young woman was smiling ear to ear, in front of her, her guests of the day, the best duo of the Pop world were seated, delighted matching grins on their faces.

- " Welcome to Pep Talk! Today's a very special day for us because we've our favorite Pop duo, Gray and Juvia with us!!"

The crowd whistled and cheered again as the two stars bowed their head respectfully to the crowd.

- " Thanks Mira, it's our pleasure to be here." The raven haired man answered as he flashed a grin to the public, making girls squeal.

- " Gray's right! We're very happy to be here!" The blue haired girl added, clad in her navy cocktail dress.

Again the crowd cheered but it was mostly male public this time. Mirajane smiled at the public and shifted her attention back to the duo.

- " So, Gray, Juvia, first of all, Congratulations for your last album, Icy Waves. It's a mega huge success! But most importantly, your fans—no actually, people who I know that don't like pop are into it after listening to that album. How do you feel about it?"

The female artist waited for the applause to end before talking,

" We are really glad to hear that." She chuckled contently, a glance at her partner before trailing, "Gray and I worked hard on it...and it was our first album together so..."

- " She worked extra hard for it," Her partner added as she shook her head playfully glaring at him. He smiled as he added, " It was her idea, so Icy waves wouldn't be possible without Juvs here." He winked at the girl, earing a smile in return.

- " He's exaggerating, its our team work."

- " Of course not." He rolled his eyes in response.

Mira chuckled at their bunter eyeing them carefully. Let's get my very wanted scoop.

- "I'm sure your fans love your teamwork. Now, let's talk about this particular song..." she started grinning slowly, earning some whistles and the name of the single from the crowd.

- " Looks like they want the same... The way your eyes burn my soul..." The interviewer paused glancing at the young stars who's cheeks were flushing slightly—at least Juvia's—Gray was doing a great job hiding it.

Mirajane Strauss cleared her throat slightly, getting their attention.

" Your voices...the feel in the song is..." she sighed softly looking for the right word, "...Magic...How did that magic happen?" She asked sincerely.

- " You said it, magic. I guess magic happens in music." Gray answered cleverly, shrugging.

- " I think that answer is too vague Gray," Mira chuckled imploring him to continue.

Gray's lips tugged up as he slid in a more comfortable position on the couch.

- " Recently at your album's success party, there were rumors of the two of you dating, so is it safe to assume the magic wouldn't have happened without that?"

Juvia smiled softly, adorable rosy hues adorning her cheeks.

- " Yes, I think it wouldn't have been magic if there's no feel in it."

Gray's smile turned into something genuine as his eyes were fondly looking over his girl beside him.

- "Are we lucky enough to get more details about it then?"

- " it, here means song right?" Gray lifted an eyebrow playfully earning some chuckles.

- " Definitely the song, but Juvia mentioned something about feel." Mira retorted with a mischievous smile, "So, I'd say the magic of the song—or love."

Gray scoffed. The audience cheered louder.

No wonder she was known for the title of the sweet devil.

Nonetheless, he responded with a natural expression. Years of experience of being the center of spotlights learned him to keep his cool in any kind of situation. He knew to give what the public wants to hear without revealing too much about his personal life neither.

- " We've known each other for a very long time. We'd each other's back through the thick and thin of our careers...so our friendship turned into something more, and I'm truly happy with the change."

The crowd went crazy and Juvia blushed slightly. He looked at her with a soft smile who smiled back brightly. God, she's so beautiful. He thought.

- " Heard that you guys! We were right! Our lovebirds here are dating!" Mira exclaimed in delight—she's a gruvia shipper after all.—" I guess it's time to say—excuse me for my language— Fucking Finally! "

People erupted more into cheers and whistles and chanted their favorite pop stars' ship name. Once the audience calmed down, the interviewer started talking again.

- " Well honestly, almost everyone were shipping you two together since forever and your chemistry is just so perfect. We felt it in the song." She stated as the stars thanked her and their fans.

- " So, now that you got your answers and I've my scoop, let's move to the fun part, shall we?" She continued cheerful with a glance at the public.

- " I don't feel it." Gray stated frowning and Juvia laughed at it.

- " The game is called 'tas-quest.' It's very simple. I'll ask you both questions concerning your partner which you've to answer honestly. Same goes with the tasks."

The two of the nodded and proceeded to play the game.

- " Okay. First question is for Juvia. Who's Gray's crush?"

- " Ouch. You sure want our couple to last?" The said guy retorted with fake mock. "I don't have any other crushes than my girlfriend, right here." He blow a kiss in her way but Juvia hit his arm, glaring at him playfully.

- " Babe. What?"

She huffed with a grin and turned to Mira, " He's a crush on his childhood friend."

- " What?! That was years ago! I was eight! And she's married now, thank you very much." He crossed his arms with a huff.

- " It's still a crush." She argued back.

- " She's a point." Mira smirked as Gray glared at her.

- " Your turn, who's the most jealous between the two of you?"

- " Obviously Juvia." The male singer laughed though his companion she gasped offended at him.

Mira bit back a chuckle as she looked at the young couple in amusement. Juvia pointed a finger at her boyfriend, "You got jealous of a fan on our last concert." 

Gray crossed his arms with a roll of eyes. " He was too close."

- " Because he wanted to take a photo." She retorted with a scoff.

- " Yeah right. He invaded your private space and I protected you being the charming boyfriend I am." Gray muttered under his breath, not loud enough for the fans to here but Juvia and Mira did. The latter smirked while the female singer rolled her eyes but allowed a smile.

He was too cute when he was jealous.—She thought endearingly. Without a word she placed her hand on the his that was resting in the bare space between them and caressed it to smooth him. It worked as he gave her a look and she smiled. He turned his aside fighting back a smile of his own.

The reporter cleared her throat to her their attention, "Moving on to the next  quest—oh it's actually a task for Juvia." She set her gaze on the girl who hastily pulled her hand away.

- " Yes ?"

- " You've to admit to Gray three of your secrets concerning him that you never would have told him." That earned chuckles and whispers.

- " Now it's interesting. I'm all ears Juvs. " He crossed his arms in curiosity, a playful gleam in his eyes.

- " Oh god, tell me I've a joker." She groaned in response—"Nope." Gray and Mira said at the same time.

Juvia pouted, "If I tell him my secret then it's no more a secret."

The sweet devil giggled, " That's basically the point of the game." The girl pouted more but turned her body slightly to her partner who was looking at her amused.

- " I've always found you cuter when you're sleeping...because you're messy, relaxed and actually a kid." She smiled tenderly at him as his cheeks tinted slightly. Their fans cooed. "...So I may have or may not have snapped pictures of you while sleeping." It was her turn to blush as he recovered from his flustered state to smirk at her handsomely.

- " Will we get some of them? " Mira interrupted.

- " Absolutely not." Juvia chuckled, "They're mine." The young girls sighed heavily but grinned at their favorite couple.

- " Next secret Wat'drop." Gray raised an eyebrow challengingly.

- " I stole one of your hoodies a few months ago and got to know recently that it's your favorite since you went through your room for it." She admitted with a cute frown.

- " Wait. My Detective Conan?" He asked in disbelief. His girlfriend bowed her head. " Guilty." She looked up at him again, " You're mad?" He rolled his eyes at her cuteness. How could he be mad at her when she was looking like that?

Instead of giving her a verbal answer, he ruffled her hair affectionately. Juvia smiled and promised herself to find him the real one he was looking for—the one he had that she stole (because she missed him too much), was not the one he wanted originally. The stocks wore off as it was a limited edition and he got himself the closest thing to the original. So, she would  buy him the one originally he wanted.

- " You guys are really cute together!!" Their interviewer squealed as she looked at them and the crowd agreed with her.

They thanked her and Juvia proceeded to the last secret with a groan. "Arghh...I can't believe I'm confessing this to you on a live show."

Gray's eyebrow lifted, " That much secret?" He frowned concerned, " You don't need to tell it."

Juvia shook her head, " No, I should play fair." She mumbled as she stared around at her fans and smiled at them. She then squeezed Gray's hand and locking her eyes on him.

- " I had a crush on you from the very first day I met you." Gray's eyes widened slightly, surprise written all over his face. They forgot they got a loud audience as he blinked at her.

- " Really?"

- " Really." She said softly. He leaned to her side, and kept his voice low. The public didn't notice their murmurs as they've gone wild since Juvia's confession.

-" I don't understand...you didn't like me back then..." He frowned. Juvia gave him a look that meant 'later'.

Mira cheered and turned to them,

" Thanks for playing fair Juvia! You're awesome!"

- " Well, it's almost time. I've a last..." She looked at the small card in her hand before looking back at Gray. " task for Gray."

- " Tell us three things you like the most about Juvia." A gentle smile crossed his features as he glanced at his girl before facing Mira.

- " I think the list is long but I'll keep it short..." He held a hand up, enumerating. " She's one of the most talented and dedicated person I know. Whether it's job or studies or other common things, once she gets into it, she's determined to finish it and gives her hundred percent in everything she does. She's a hard worker and I honestly think that's the reason of her success."

Juvia was touched by his words as she stared at the man she loved talking about her so highly and proudly. She knew why she loved him so much.

- " She's a very good friend—she's this kind of friend who you would call if one day you committed a murder and don't know what to do about it. She'll help you bury the body and get you safely out of the mess." Juvia along with others laughed at his statement.— "Not that I'm planning to murder someone." He added and Juvia laughed more, leaning into him before giving him a look that meant, 'call me if you do'.

- " I guess what I'm trying to say is, she's trustworthy and be there for you through thick and thin. The kind of friend everyone needs to have in their life and I'm grateful to have her in mine." He got everyone's heart with that—if he didn't already had—as they stared at him in awe.

Gray turned to Juvia and locked his eyes with hers as he was about to say his last one. " What I love the most about you is how you look at me. You look at me as if I was your world and you love me so freely and so...easily. You accept my imperfections and love me for myself and not because I'm a star..." He held her hand and pulled her up with him as she started tearing up despite trying hard to not cry. Gray smiled lovingly at her—the one he only reserved for her and never showed in public. " Thanks for loving me, Wat'drop."

Without minding the public—because she saw only him—she brought a hand to his face and he leaned in her touch still giving her that loving look. She smiled, her heart and mind racing as her whole being was consumed of an overwhelming love for the man standing before her. She leaned in and pressed her lips against his in a sweet, soft kiss that sent the room shaking in fan's wild ovation.

When the lovebirds departed from each other with matching grins, hands still intertwined, Mira almost fainted but managed to end the show with hearts in her eyes.

*

The young couple was in the back of Gray's car as they were been driven back to their respective homes. Juvia was asleep on his shoulder as he kissed her head and stroked her hair tenderly. She's been working on her new album for the past week when they just finished their album and even before the interview, she was asked in her studio. He knew that she barely had enough for the past months. Gray was grateful to his production house to be on vacation but it's not the case for Juvia. She's to work for at least a week or two before her own holidays. Thankfully, he would be still on holidays by that time, hence he'd already planned their vacation—It was a surprise for her.

Half an hour later, Gray was carrying his girl to his bed in his penthouse slowly to not disturb her sleep. He lied her gently on it and proceeded to take her heals off and stripped himself, leaving only his boxers before climbing up in the bed with her. Juvia almost immediately clung to him like a koala, her head placed on his chest, a leg on his and an arm across his stomach. With a soft smile, he wrapped his arm around her and squeezed her to him.

- " Are you sure you don't want to get comfortable before sleeping?" He whispered after a moment. She only tightened her hold on him. Gray rolled his eyes and ran a hand in her hair as he stared down at her.

- " I know you're awake Juvs."

- " Why didn't you change my dress?" Her voice was muffled due to her position as she buried her face in his neck. "I don't mind it. It's just you."

Gray's heart skipped a beat and he rubbed circles on her bare arms.

- " I respect you too much to take advantage of you while you're sleeping." He murmured.

She raised her head up with a yawn but gave him a sleepy smile. "Gray, changing my dress to make me comfortable on bed is not taking advantage of me. You're my boyfriend so it's basically your right." He returned her smile, tucking a strand behind her ear to stare into her beautiful blue orbs.

His smile turned soon into a gorgeous smirk. Oh boy. Juvia flushed and  shivered in his hold as his hand pulled the straps of her dress slowly. His eyes were intense on her as he murmured, "Why, I don't have a problem stripping you Wat'drop." His fingers caressed her bare shoulders burning her skin as they went by.  "In fact, I prefer you naked around me." His lips trailed from her ears to cheeks down her jaw and Juvia placed her hands on his chest to push back slightly to stare down at him with an adorable pout.

- " You're such a pervert." She murmured. He pecked her lips in response before looking at her innocently. " I'm using my boyfriend rights here." She hit his chest lightly with a soft frown that turned into a smile, wiggled out of his hold ignoring his protests.

- "Close your eyes boyfriend."

- " Nope." Gray grinned back as he found the perfect position to stare at her, his eyes trailing to her bare neck and shoulders as she held the dress to her chest.

Juvia glared at him for a moment and he held her stare before she shrugged. Gray's eyes widened as she let her dress fall and pool around her feet and stood before him, clad only in her undies. He openly gaped at her too surprised to react as he took her in.

Gray knew Juvia was beautiful. He's known her for almost six years now and he'd seen her in daring dresses before.—it was part of the job. But right now, she was actually standing in his room, in his arm length, only in her navy matching underwear. She was a goddess. Before he could even process what was happening, her hand was unclasping her bra and Gray hurriedly turned to the other side, cursing as Juvia's laugh filled the room.

He was a goner if he saw her naked. He wouldn't be able to not jump her after so Gray shut his eyes tight and pushing away the amazing vision he just saw into the back of his mind as he waited for the little tease of his girlfriend to finish changing.

A moment later the bed shook and her arms slipped around his torso from behind as she placed her face on his cheek. He felt her bare legs slipping on his and he knew that she was wearing his t-shirt. He could handle it. He'd already seen her in his clothes and she's very—Stop right there, Gray.

- " Comm'o look at me..." She chuckled, "...I'm not naked—

- " Shut up." He groaned. She placed a few kisses on his cheek with a smile and after a moment, he finally turned on his back. She smiled brightly at him and wrapped her arms around his neck.

- " I love you." She whispered and kissed his jaw before tucking her face under his chin.

- " I love you too Wat'drop." He kissed her head squeezing her to him.

- " You said sweet things at the interview." She murmured.

- " I was being honest." He said as he caught her looking at him lovingly—as if he was her world. "And I meant every word."  She was his world.

She hummed happily and closed her eyes. His arms were her safe, warm cocon. Her place.

-" Speaking of interview..." she lifted her head up in question, crossed her arms on his chest and placed her face on it, staring at his face.  " You said something about crush." His lips tugged up and her own tugged hp in a slow smile under his curios gaze.

Juvia cupped his face with a hand and smiled adoringly down at him. " I had a crush on you in high school. Remember our first meet?"

He recalled it with a fond smile, " You fell on me with books dropping on us. There's so much dust and we started sneezing and the old librarian was yelling at us like a mad woman."

The blue haired girl chuckled happily. " Well, I guess I didn't only fell on you that day but also fell for you."

Gray's eyes widened, " You loved me back then?" His heart thumping against his chest and he was sure that she could hear it, judging by her smile.

- " I thought it was a crush at first. You were so handsome and—"

- " Were?" He raised a teasing eyebrow. She rolled her eyes. "—are and I just liked looking at you..." her eyes locked with his in a playful gleam. " That is until I knew that you were my rival in everything. Literally everything!" She groaned dropping her head on his chest. "It was so annoying. You always beat me in one point or just behind me in a point. So annoying!"

Gray snorted rubbing her back. " I was not used to have a competitor and I hated to lose." She mumbled before lifting her head to face him.

" You hate to lose too." He chuckled but didn't say anything letting her rant about how annoying it was to be constantly on war with him in high school.

- " But I loved bickering with you. I couldn't spend a day without bantering with you. Really." She looked up at him stroking his cheek. "Then, there's this project in our second year and we were partnered up."

- " We ended it, won the first prize." He murmured as she nodded eagerly. " We became friends during that period..." He trailed tracing his finger on her cheek.

- " We were already kinda friends—frenemies, I guess. I've always admired you. You were the first person I've ever met with so much determination to win." She whispered eyes closed.

- " Hmm, I liked you too. But too arrogant to admit it." She snorted at his statement.

- " Then best friends. We were inseparable by the end of high school..." Gray hummed a nod. " You supported me before my uncle to pursue music career."

- " It's because you were incredibly talented Wat'drop." He said sincerely. She smiled as his finger traced the form of her lips.

- " That's an exaggeration but thank you for the compliment." She opened her eyes to look at him, " Want to know something? " He rose an eyebrow, silently asking her to continue. "You were my inspiration to fight for what I want, to fight for my dream." She kissed his forehead gently, " I won't be here without you, Gray Fullbuster."

- " And I won't without you. You were my only family when things fell apart." He retorted as he recalled his dark period—when Ur died.

" You were my strength and my very reason to not give up." Her eyes glistened as his welled up, and she kissed his eyelids, lingering when lips there. "If it wasn't for you, I'd be in streets."

- " You had all our friends with you. We all had your back."

- " True. I'm grateful for them but you, Juvia, you're special. You held me together." She smiled tearfully.

- " You are special to me too. Always have been."  He mumbled an 'I know' and rolled them over earning a surprised squeal from her as her back hit the mattress.

She stared up at him bringing him closer with her arms around his neck.

- " When did you know you loved me?" He asked gazing into her eyes.

- " Last year, when you were in your world tour." His love brushed the hair of his nape as he leaned his forehead against hers. " It started with little things. Like when I spent weekends in our friend's place watching movies and how you were not there to lean on or throw my legs on..." He grinned.

- " Then, we'd go to get a coffee and you weren't there to know that I don't add milk in my coffee. Then, I started missing your voice. I'd call you and couldn't get you so I would listen to your voicemail to hear your voice."

He leaned back to look at her apologetic, his being bursting with love for her. " Sorry about that. You know we barely have our phones on world tour."

- " I know, don't worry about it. But I yearned to hear your voice." He kissed her nose and lips in response.

- " By the time you were back, I knew I was madly in love with you and I couldn't imagine a life without you."

He could feel the love in her voice as she said it.

- " You aren't kidding—you practically choked me to death when you hugged me once you saw me in the airport." He teased with a grin.

- " Yeah well, I just realized I loved my best friend for years and you weren't there for eight moths. I wanted to lock you in a room and never let you go away from me."

- " It's creepy." He grinned.

- " You wouldn't have minded would you—wait why're you grinning?"

His grin widened and she held his face up and forced his eyes to hers. A moment in silence passed between them. Both of their hearts beating in sync as the realization settled over.

Juvia worded it slowly.

- " You loved me." Her tone was barley a whisper as she remained their eye lock.

- " I've loved you for a long time Wat'drop. A very very longtime that I denied and fought back my feelings."

- " Why?"

- " Because I've just lost Ur. And I've lost everyone I've loved. You, losing you...was unimaginable... I was terrified that my feelings will take you away from me so I fought them back to keep you with me. "

- " You wouldn't have lost me if you made a move earlier, Gray." She took a breath, " I've always denied my feelings for you as a crush and admiration until I really couldn't lie to me anymore..."

Gray sighed in response, "We we're both idiots huh..." She groaned, " We wasted years! We could've been together while we were still in Uni!"

Gray looked up at her, " Hey, we're together now and we've always loved each other without knowing so we're good." He shrugged and pecked her lips as she still had her pout on.

- " I'm a bit worried you...we are no more high school kids. We are popular now, successful stars in industry. And we're dating." Her voice dropped as she looked at him, " Going in public, was it a bad idea?"

- " Do you regret it?" He brushed away her hair, and she shook her head. "I'm just concerned about what it could do to our relationship...as much as I love my fans, when it's comes to their favorite celebrity's love life, they'd go crazy. Especially when two celebrities are dating. They don't see the fact that under the mask of popularity, it's two normal people with feelings and we can't really fault them." Her eyes started stinging as she stared at him. "I can't lose you, Gray."

He quickly reassured her pulling her in a tight hug. " You won't lose me." He pulled back slightly despite her pressure to stay like that. He stared into her eyes, " Didn't you say that I'm the most determined person you know?" A nod, "Juvia, I fight for what I want. " He lifted her chin up. " I'll always fight for you." He swore.

- " Promise?" Her tone was frail, and he smiled at her. " Promise. And you promise to fight for me?"

- " Always."

She brought a hand between them, holding up her little finger, He wrapped his around it and smiled when he saw their tattoos matching as their fingers locked together. Juvia dragged him to the tattoo parlor past midnight to get it in their half drunken states a few weeks ago. It was on the day of the success party of their first album together, Icy Waves. So they got themselves tattooed a drop of water on his finger and a snowflake on hers.

There's no ice without water and no water without ice. And Gray would be damned if he didn't keep that promise.

**********************

💧❄️ Happy Belated Gruvia day! ❄️💧

 pairing: CEO! Namjoon x black Assistant! Y/N

genre: fluff, angst, boss/employee relationship, f2l

warnings: mention of racism/discrimination in workplace, very indirect mention of domestic abuse

Summary:   Losing your job was one of the worst things that could possibly happen to you. Bills started piling up, and soon enough you were in complete debt.  By a miracle, you were offered the position of assistant to the CEO of Persona who turns out to be a real sweetheart.

WC: 5.6k--i think this is the most i’ve written. i could’ve written some more but ya girl was losing that thing called inspiration. 

A/N: This fic is the definition of what a Hallmark movie is. First it takes you on a straight-forward path then BAM! But you gotta love them for that.  Remember was originally supposed to be called Deceiving the Moon, but I changed the plot entirely into this one and I can’t but love this version more so now it is Remember. And I hope you’ll remember to enjoy it!

beta-reader(s)-- @birbdae​ thank you for the praise and the tiny criticisms bby. they made me smile! 

The pink paper slip seemed to burn your hand as you held it.  The tears in your eyes did nothing to persuade your boss of three years to keep you on the project that you held dear to your heart. The new girl he had hired to replace you couldn’t meet your eyes as she handed you the box filled with your personal belongings from your office space. 

“Oh, ____. Before you leave, can you email the final preparations for the toy drive? We would like to get started as soon as possible.”

The bastard smiled up at you as he practically ripped your heart to pieces. The toy drive had been your idea from the start to beginning. You were the program manager as well the assistant to the CEO who had wanted nothing to do with the project until he learned of the tax cut he was able to receive.  

Then he replaced and fired you. Now he was asking for your hard work that you manifested.  

You had dealt with a lot of shit regarding this company. Racist comments while being the only black woman on the team, being told you hair being in braids was not professional, and being paid the least out of everyone including the new assistant. Yet you had stayed. Your dreams of finally managing to pull off a huge event in your name had made you persevere and smile in the face of the evil work environment. 

The dream slowly crumbled as you stared at the assistant, the boss, and the pink slip. There was no way you would give him anything you had created.  

“No. Start the entire project yourself. I’m sure your new assistant knows how to program manage. I’ll be taking my toy drive elsewhere. I will not be letting the kids down because of your incompetence and willingness to fire me two months before the charity was supposed to begin. Fuck you.”

The CEO’s smile dropped quickly hearing those words. Perhaps this was a bad idea. But before he could retract his statement of firing the one person he knew he could count on, you left the office, head held high, middle finger in the air. 

 Three weeks later, the many jobs you had applied for had not replied to you, and your last paycheck from the previous job was slowly dwindling. If nothing came up soon, you wouldn’t be able to afford the rent for the next month. 

Your friends Seokjin and Jungkook offered to help; however, your pride was getting in the way and you would only use them as a last resort if you couldn’t find a job in time. 

For the time being, you tried to relax and avoid thoughts of the impending bills that threatened to pile up. 

Putting on a bonnet and pouring a glass of wine, you prepared to pamper yourself with a little Netflix binge. Seokjin had brought the wine as soon as he had heard about what happened. He worked at  Persona and couldn’t believe the unjust condition that had been forced on you. Persona was the best company to work at according to your older friend. He had once tried to convince you to apply there. Yet you hadn’t listened. There might not have been a chance to grow there seeing as many interns went there after graduating like Seokjin, and you prefer not to work with friends. As much as you loved Seokjin, you knew how childish he could be despite the mature attitude he tended to exude. You were the same way. Putting you two together in the same building was a catastrophe waiting to happen. 

The day he brought the wine, he told you the CEO--Kim Namjoon- was looking for a new assistant and would more than listen to your project proposal. 

Not to mention, he would pay you more than what you received at your old company. 

The idea tickled in the back of your mind as you sipped your wine. As much as you would have liked to work somewhere differently, the bills were waving at you in the distance and the employers you had contacted seemed to be uninterested. At least Seokjin could put in a good word for you. 

Picking up your phone, you dialed the number you knew well. 

“___! “ “Jinnie!” You could hear Jungkook in the background, yelling something that was unclear to you. 

“To what do I owe the pleasure? Do you need food? I just made those dumplings that you like so much. I could run them up to you.”

“Please. I haven’t eaten anything all day. But that’s not why I called. I want to know how to apply for the position of the assistant.”

Seokjin audibly gasped and made a sound keen to a squeal.  

“You apply by showing up tomorrow in your best business apparel at eight am sharp tomorrow at my doorstep so I can take you for open interview sessions. And bring your portfolio--no resume needed.”

“No resume?”

“Nope.”

“Oh...Alright. Eight am sharp. Best business clothes. Portfolio. Got it. Thank you Jinnie.” “No problem, __. Anything for Jungkook and I’s best friend who tends to steal our hoodies,” he said, a smile practically being heard through his voice.

“Those aren’t your hoodies anymore first of all. Second of all, I don’t steal. I borrow without the possibility of giving it back.  Third of all, bring me my food. I’m starving.”

“I’m already at your door. Open up. And Jungkook came here too. He brought that silly game of his.” Hanging up, you stand up to adjust your bonnet and the pajamas you had lounged in. You walked over to the door and opened it to see your friends’ arms full of snacks and games to play for the night. 

“We’ll be done with our mini get together for you to get enough sleep and prepare for your interview. Right now, we’re going to help you mope around,” Jungkook told you as both he and his older roommate stepped into your apartment.  

“Somehow I doubt it, but I’ll give you the time of day since you brought dumplings.”

All three of you laughed. 

 The next morning, the alarm blared at six o’ clock. Sitting up and stretching your limbs, you pushed yourself off the bed and into the bathroom. You needed to look your best for the interview and show you were the best candidate. And that started with a nice, hot shower. The lavender soap washed the stress off of your body and the water carried it into the drain. 

Jungkook had helped pick out your outfit while Seokjin had helped prepare your portfolio.Your hair was braided, and it was too heavy for you to set it into a bun of some sort, so you let it stay down and applied a little coconut oil.  

 Everything was ready and set. You were ready. 

At exactly eight o’ clock, you stood outside of Jungkook’s and Seokjin’s shared apartment. You could hear shuffling coming from right behind the door, alerting you that Jin was going to open the door. As he swung the door open, you leaned over to see a slightly disheveled Jungkook throwing on his backpack. 

“Late for class again?”

He grunted and moved past you. 

Jin laughed and locked the door before pushing you towards the exit of the apartment. 

“You ready for the open interviews?”

“I think so. Scratch that. I know so.” Your momma always told you confidence was the answer to everything.  

“You’ll wow Namjoon. You’re more than qualified and Namjoon could use your ideas. That’s why I said bring your portfolio.” “Thanks.”

 The drive to Persona was quick and easy. And loud as Jin played his favorite tunes and sang along to them. It uplifted your spirits and calmed some of the butterflies that blossomed in your stomach. You knew a lot about Namjoon from what Jin told you whenever he came home from work and bothered you. 

He was sweet and caring. His employees came first to him and took their opinions seriously.  Any criticisms anyone had was dealt with right away as a group or one on one. 

On one occasion, an employee’s car was destroyed because of her ex and she couldn’t find a way to work other than Ubers. It began to get too expensive, and she told Namjoon her dilemma. After a brief meeting, he was convinced to begin a carpool service for his employees at no cost to them. 

Your old boss was neither of those and only cared for the profits that came. If someone didn’t have a ride to work, it wasn’t his problem.

Namjoon’s handsome according to Jin. Tall, tan, and handsome had been the exact words Seokjin had said. Namjoon’s smile brightened everyone’s day when he smiled and nodded good morning to everyone. He always wore tailored suits--clothes fitting him to a T.   

You didn’t necessarily need these details for the interview, but knowing exactly what type of boss Namjoon would be would set your mind to achieve your goal of getting the job through any means. 

Seokjin walked you to the door of his boss’s office and knocked twice. A deep voice told you to come in.

The butterflies in your belly  picked up full speed. As you tried to calm yourself down, Jin opened the door. 

“Namjoon! ____ is here!” Jin announced.  

The man in particular was seated at a mahogany desk in a  leather chair that seemed much too small for him. As big as he was though, he exuded a calming aura, and not one of arrogance.  

He stood up, a huge smile spreading on his face. His dimples were pronounced and it made your heart skip a beat or two. Jin had not mentioned dimples. They were your weakness. 

“Thank you Seokjin. You can go get started on your work,” he dismissed the older man and turned to you. “ Hello,  Ms ___. A pleasure to speak to you today.” “Um, it’s my pleasure to speak with you as well.”

He circled around back to his chair, and motioned for you to take the chair across from. As you made your way over, you took in the decor of the office. It was bigger than your previous boss’s.   There were many statues that you knew were from the KAWS collection. You had a few yourself, but not as many as this man had. The statues were placed in display cases that were scattered around the room. The room was not stark white, and had small bouts of brown and orange around the room. It was unusually calming--helping those butterflies in your belly. 

Sitting down, you smiled at the man in front of you, not knowing how to start the interview. 

“So I presume Seokjin told you about the position and what I’m expecting, correct?”

“Yes, and I believe that I can do more than what you’re expecting of me.”

Namjoon nodded, “That’s good. An assistant who wants to do more is exactly what I’m looking for. My last assistant was an intern, and though she was great, I wanted a little more. I see you brought a portfolio. Tell me a little about what is in it.”

This was the moment you had prepared for. Even though you had anticipated it to be later in the interview, you knew exactly what to say.

“This portfolio actually contains some of the projects and the work I developed at my previous job. One of them includes a toy drive. I was fortunately able to keep the project for myself, and I planned on getting funding from a local bank in order to kickstart it again. The toy drive would consist of donations and toys I buy myself and giving it to domestic abuse shelters for the mothers and children-”

“When was this supposed to take place?” Namjoon interrupted, curiosity clear in his voice. 

“Oh, it was supposed to take place next month. December. It’s a time crunch but I believe I could do it. The other projects were for my boss who couldn’t be bothered to do anything for himself--Oh I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to say that.”

“Completely fine.” He drummed his long fingers on the table, encasing them in silence for a while. 

You hadn’t meant to ramble on about the toy drive, but the passion you felt for the charity event was incredible. Your mother had owned a domestic abuse home, and the amount of women and children who had to spend Christmas hiding away was consistently on your mind. You wanted to do something for them. 

“___?” 

“Yes?” You steeled yourself for another question. 

“On the basis that you continue this toy drive, and it is successful--I have a feeling it will  be--the job is yours.”

You practically jumped out of your seat, grabbing Namjoon’s hand and shaking it in excitement.  

“Thank you, thank you, thank you! You will not be disappointed. I will be the best assistant to you and this toy drive means too much to me for it to fail.” 

Namjoon grinned, his dimples showing out again. “You can talk to Jung Hoseok in the HR department. He’ll get you ready to be an employee of Persona. I want you to work tomorrow morning.”

Nodding, you moved to stand up and leave before remembering to bow in respect. 

“Thank you so much.”

“No, thank you. Not only will I have some of this paperwork done, but I’ll be getting very good advertisement for the company. It’s a win-win.”

“Right. How much paperwork do you have exactly?”

“It’s been about two months since my intern left, so…” He trailed off, running a hand through his hair. 

“I’ll be here bright and early then,” you said giggling. “See you tomorrow.”

Closing the door behind you, you glanced around for your best friend. You found him near the coffee machine in the far corner. As you sidled next to him, you poked him, making him jump.

“___! That didn’t take too long. How did it go?”

“We should probably wake up early enough to eat breakfast before we both have to be at work.”

 The news took a minute to  register in his brain. He took your hands and brought you in for a hug. 

“I told you you’d get it! And no, we’re not waking up that early. We can breakfast here--there’s an all-day buffet set up in the kitchen. Speaking of, you might not even know where that is, so I’ll have to give you a tour of the place. But there’s a few hours til I have a lunch break.”

“It’s fine. I have to go to HR anyway and fill out some paperwork.” 

“Min Yoongi was just about to go there. Weren’t you?” Seokjin turned towards the stranger in question. Min Yoongi had been completely hidden from you because of Jin’s broad shoulders.  

“Uh, yeah. I can take her.” 

Yoongi held two cups of coffee in his hands and a manila folder tucked into his armpit. He was only missing a bluetooth speaker in his ear and you can say he looked like all of the clients your previous company dealt with.  He was handsome with pale skin and droopy brown eyes. 

You gave him a small smile, and let him lead the way to HR. It was a few floors down so you had to take the elevator. It was a slow ride down. 

“What’s your name by the way?”

“I’m ____. Just got hired.”

“Min Yoongi. You already know that though. I’m a financial analyst.”

“Sounds cool.  How long have you been working here?”

“I was hired last year. I’m assuming you know Seokjin?”

“Yeah, I’m his best friend.”

The conversation came to an awkward pause. Thankfully, the elevator arrived on your floor and Yoongi led you to the office of Jung Hoseok before heading off in the other direction. 

Jung Hoseok was seated behind a desk; his eyes were focused on the computer screen in front of him. He glanced away from his computer to focus on you and smiled.. Everyone here at Persona seemed to have easygoing smiles and it helped settle any uneasiness you had about accepting the job and getting to know your new co-workers. You had rarely interacted with any of your former coworkers outside of meetings.  You hoped to change that. 

“I’m assuming you’re ___? I have the paperwork on that table over there. Salary information, bank information, the usual. Please fill it  out and I will have you as an employee in no time. Take as much time as you need--I won’t be going anywhere soon.”

The paperwork was easy to fill out, taking only a few minutes of your time. You would be paid more than what you were being paid at your former job. You had thirteen vacation days and thirteen sick days, totaling twenty-six days in all for you to take care of yourself. You couldn’t remember the last time you had actually been able to stay home from work for even having a rough day. There was an employee handbook at the end of the stack that you would take home and read. 

“I’m done.”

Hoseok startled, having forgotten you were in the room from how silent you were. You handed him the papers and promptly sat back down, avoiding all conversation with him.  He reminded you of everything you didn’t want in coworkers. 

It took him at least twenty minutes to get you into the system. He turned to you with the prettiest smile on his face. 

“Congratulations! You’re now an employee of Persona. I’ll have an ID ready for you tomorrow when you come in. I’ll meet you in Namjoon’s office.”

Working with Namjoon was poles apart from working with your old boss. He didn’t give you an ungodly amount of work to do just because he could. He let you catch up on the work that had yet to be completed by his intern and gave you enough time to plan the toy drive. 

You’d get so into your work, you’d lose track of time and he would have to guide you out of the office to eat lunch. He treated you to many lunches on several occasions always saying it was in his best interest to keep his assistant fed. You felt it was for more than that. 

Namjoon was very attractive and was definitely your type. Boss-employee relationships only worked out in fanfictions and movies unfortunately. And there was the small detail of the employee handbook strictly advocating for non-relations in the office. 

You’d discern a hint of flirtiness whenever he complimented your outfit for the day. Of course, you thanked him. But you refused to flirt back. There was no point in indulging in the flirting game. He was your boss and that’s all he would be for as long as you had this job. 

Biting into a sandwich that you brought for lunch, you go over the email once more. It was an email for the employees of the company to donate any toy they could. The deadline was the 24th considering everyone had Christmas off. A week and then the children could have a special Christmas filled with toys and cheer.  You only needed Namjoon to approve it and send it off. You had asked Park Jimin, who was part of the marketing team, to create little animations for you. They were the cutest things ever and made the email a lot more friendlier. A snowman waved, there was snowfall, and even Santa bringing a toy to a child. Jimin had completely outdone himself for you. 

Namjoon would be back from lunch in a couple of minutes, so you decided to sit in his office and wait for him.  It was only next door to your office so you didn’t mind and you could straighten up his filing while you were in there. 

Soon you were lost in the work of rearranging his file system. It was weird to see that man was usually always well-kept, but his organization skills were a little lackluster. No wonder he hired you on the spot. A picture was at the bottom of the file cabinet--Namjoon didn’t want everything to be on the computer for emergencies. Picking it up, you see a dimpled child with his arms around what you assumed was his mother. His face was covered in chocolate but you knew that it was a young Namjoon. They were sitting at a table filled with different foods and you could make out a Christmas tree in the background. A familiar tree. 

You had spent many hours and years in front of that tree. It belonged to your mother’s shelter. Your favorite ornament to hang on it was a Strawberry Shortcake ornament that your father had given you before the three of you moved to South Korea. That's how you recognized the tree. The ornament hung low from the Christmas tree exactly where you always put it. Namjoon had been there. You couldn’t remember ever meeting him considering you always spent your Christmases in the shelter with the families. 

You would have recalled seeing dimples as deep as his. 

A tiny gasp alerted you that you were being nosey. 

“Namjoon! I’m sorry. I was just re-organizing the cabinet. I didn’t mean to pry..but I found out something you might want to hear.”

“And what would that be?” His tone wasn’t angry but it still had a little attitude. 

“You used to stay at my mom’s shelter. Small world,” you started to giggle before realizing what exactly his and his mother’s staying truly meant. “Maybe you don’t want to hear that.”

To your astonishment, Namjoon smiled at you. A small one but your heart still fluttered. He wasn’t entirely mad at you. 

“Yeah. When Seokjin mentioned you for the position, I instantly recognized your name. I wanted to hire you right then. You had been so nice to me and my mother that it stuck with me for all these years. Obviously you don’t remember me as much as I remember you though.” 

“It’s probably because I’ve been so focused on the toy drive. I really want to surprise them this year. It’s the most I can do to show them that they’re not completely alone in the world. That people are thinking of them and want to help them.” “And I think this gesture would make everyone happy. I know I would have loved something like this.”

“And I would have gladly given it to you. But I was only ten years old at the time. But for right now, I need you to approve this mass email that advertises the donations of toys.”

Namjoon let out a guttural laugh and sat in his chair to review the email. 

 It was the 24th--the final day of the donation drive. Your co-workers had been dropping off toys since the email went out. The storage room on your floor was filled to the brim and you were beyond ecstatic.  There were doll-houses, kitchenettes, monster trucks, board games, painting sets, bicycles (with the training wheels), and even things for the older kids staying at the shelter. Namjoon had thought some of the toys could even go to another shelter in the city. You decided to pick a homeless shelter knowing there were a few kids there as well.  

Namjoon had helped you rent a truck for the day that would aid in loading and transporting the toys across the city to the shelters. Jin, Jungkook, Jimin, Hoseok, Yoongi, and the new intern, Taehyung, had offered to help as well.  You were grateful for the help and thanked each of them for giving up a portion of their Christmas to help you deliver the toys.  

Loading the truck took hours as there were many toys. You treated everyone to a few drinks and dinner for all the help they were giving you. 

“Here’s to seeing the smiling faces on the children tomorrow when we deliver the toys!”

Throwing back the shot glass of soju, you whooped and whistled along with the men around you. The plan wasn’t to drink too much as you had to be up bright and early in order to deliver the toys to both shelters in time before the children woke up.  

The shelter leaders had already promised to try and keep them from going near the tree before nine that morning. 

After eating, you all made your way to your cars--of course you had back with Seokjin and Jungkook. You reminded everyone to meet at the office. You and Namjoon would be driving the truck, while everyone else trailed after you in their cars.

The morning could not come soon enough for you. 

 Waking up wasn’t hard for you at all. The exhilaration coursing through your body was enough to get you to hop off the bed and into the showers without so much as a grown. The bonnet you had placed on your head the night before had kept your hair in tip top shape as usual. You could always trust a bonnet. 

Finger combing out the curls that had flattened a little through the night, your afro soon came to its puffy and natural state of bouncy curls.  

You rushed to put on the ugly sweater outfit you had bought for this occasion before rushing out of the door, colliding into Jungkook and Jin. They, like you, were excited for the day ahead of you. 

The three of you packed yourself into Jin’s car and blasted Mariah Carey’s Christmas album for the short ride to Persona. 

The rest of your group was already waiting for you. Jimin had made hot chocolate for the lot of you, and after a brief moment of making sure the toys were all packed into the truck, Namjoon and you climbed into the front seats, and took off. 

Namjoon was singing off-key to ‘What Do the Lonely Do on Christmas’--a classic love of yours--creating a symphony of giggles from you. The Christmas cheer was big in all of you, especially the tall giant that is Namjoon.   He was showing a much goofier side of him that you would have loved to see more of in the office. The man was carefree most of the time,but he always held this air of seriousness. You couldn’t help but wonder if his childhood had created some of that. 

The shelter was slowly moving into your vision as you got closer and closer. You heartbeat picked up, realizing just how much you missed being here with your mom and dad. They were some of the best memories you could ever have. However, your mom began to think that the shelter wasn’t the best place for you to grow up in and made you stay with your father at home or in his office. You had always come back, but it was always too crowded and the children never wanted to play with you since you were in high school. You thought it was because they couldn’t relate to you since you hadn’t been in their position. 

Namjoon pulled into the drive of your mother’s shelter, parking the car to where the trunk faced the door for easy access. 

Your mother was waiting for you at the front door and gave you a tight hug. 

“Hey baby girl! I’ve been waiting for you. The kids are going to love waking up to these.”

“I know Mama,’ you turned to introduce the boys. A bashful Namjoon was already behind you.

“I’m not sure if you remember but this is Kim Namjoon.  He used to stay here.”

It took your mother a minute to recognize him. He had grown up so much from the scrawny little one he used to be. Always hiding under his mother unless he was playing with you. 

“Well, I’ll be damned. Kim Namjoon. Son of Kim Eunha. Boy, look at you! Come here and give me a hug,” your mother said, her southern drawl prominent in her voice.  She pulled Namjoon into a hug, making the huge man blush a deep red. 

Holding back a giggle, you stuttered, “Mama! Mama! Let him go. We gotta get the toys out the truck or the kids are going to see nine Santas putting  toys under the tree. And it’ll just ruin everything.”

“You’re right. But I won’t be helping,” she laughed.  “Y’all have fun with that. Imma go make some cookies.”

You shook your head, laughing. Namjoon was laughing as well, indicating he remember just how boisterous your mother could be.

“It’s a black mother thing,” you told him. 

Unloading the toys didn’t take as long as loading them did to all of your surprise. The toys that were to be taken to the other shelter stayed in. Namjoon and you were staying here while the rest of the boys took those. 

The living room of the shelter was filled with toys for the little girls and boys, and you couldn’t be happier. For years, it had only been a few toys under there. Most of them had been from your family but you couldn’t afford too many.  

Your ornament on the tree was in the same place it always was. It was slowly losing a few of its colours, but Strawberry Shortcake could still be made out. 

“The famous Strawberry Shortcake. You know, I asked you if I could put it on the year I stayed here. You let me.”

The memory popped up as soon as he said it. 

You were both tired from running around in the snow for hours until Jack Frost started nipping at your noses. You only had enough energy to fix up the tree. Namjoo had asked to put it on, and you almost threw a fit before recalling why he was here. You obliged, and saw how happy it made him.  

“I did. You looked so happy. I think I wanted to kiss you.”

“We did. Right under that mistletoe.”

Blushing, you turned towards where Namjoon pointed and saw the old mistletoe your father put out to trick your mother into kissing him. He put it in the same place knowing she would stop right under it: the entrance to the kitchen. 

“Oh wow. Why am I just now remembering that. We had no idea what we were doing and you even bit me!”

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“Yeah, you totally bit me,” the shriek of laughter you let out was enough to wake the entire shelter, but the memory was too amusing.  How had you forgotten it?

Before he could think of apologizing for the mishap and offer to re-do it, the laughter and shrieks of children waking up and bounding down the stairs interrupted the both of you. 

“Santa came! Santa came! Wow! Look a bike!”

Various gasps and squeals exploded through the living room. The mothers all had cups of hot chocolate, holding back tears of appreciation. Some of the older kids noticed the tablets that had been laid out on the “big kid” table and were soon immersed in figuring out who would get what. 

Your heart squeezed seeing all the happiness unfold around you. This was what you wanted. Just a day for the children and mothers to have a little hope.  

You picked up a gift that you had bought personally the day after seeing that Namjoon had stayed at the shelter. You had lied and said that you hadn’t remembered everything. But you remembered this one.

“Namjoon!” You held out the present for you. It was wrapped in spiderman paper wrapping but it was all you had left.  

He tore it open with vigor and let out a tiny gasp seeing what it was. 

“You remembered?”

“Yep. It was my pinky promise before I left. I always keep my promises.”

It was a leather notebook with a fountain pen. It was something that he could easily buy himself but you recollected the exact conversation you had years ago before leaving the shelter. 

 “Oh, you’re leaving ___?”

“Yeah,” you kicked at a frozen rock, “Mama thinks it’s not safe for me to be here right now. So I’ll be spending time with my Dad in his office from now on. I’ll still come here though. This place means a lot to me. “

“Cool. I won’t be after next week though. My mom finally found a place for the two of us.”

“Aw, I’ll miss you. You owe me another kiss.”

“”And I’ll miss you. I promise you another kiss if you promise me a leather book with a fountain pen.”

The surprised look on your face made him laugh.  

“Uhm, why a leather book with a fountain pen?”

“I want to be a business owner one  day. A leather book and fountain pen are fancy and I’ve seen your dad use one.” “It keeps him organized according to Mama. But I doubt it. Dad would lose his head if it wasn’t attached to his body.”

You both laughed and pinky promised. 

 As much as you didn’t like boss-relationships, you had known Namjoon since your childhood technically. And you would like to get to know him more. Obviously your relationship was going to bloom had you two not been separated.  

Not to mention, he had let you finish the toy drive. Had it not been for him remembering who you were and loving your idea, you wouldn’t have been able to do it. Working for him was a Christmas miracle if you said so yourself. 

It was meant to be.  

“I think you owe me something now.”

Namjoon placed both of his hands on your hips, bringing you in closer to him. His smile showed you the dimples you had come to love to see.  

“I promise this time with no biting.”

Namjoon’s index and thumb lifted your chin up and his soft lips pressed against yours. 

Around you, the kids were tumbling around with their new toys and the teenagers were still fussing over the electronics. 

But the kiss is all that mattered. 

Merry Christmas to you. 

A Touch Of Magic

Pairing - Younger Neville Griffin (Misdirection - Inside No 9)/Original female character (can be read as reader insert)

Rating - Explicit - Over 18s ONLY

Warnings - soft BDSM

Summary - You get a job working as an assistant for a young Magician, but you find yourself fiercely attracted to him. Can you keep your mind on the job, or will lust win out?

Dedicated to the amazing @barkilphedros-hat for being wonderful. I ��� you!

I searched through all the available jobs pinned on the job centre noticeboard and sighed. Absolutely nothing, yet again. I was just about to give up when I noticed a small, type-written card in the far corner. It read:

“WANTED

Assistant to a young, up and coming Magician.

Must be flexible”

Beneath that, written in red pen as if an afterthought was, in brackets:

“(Both in hours AND body!!)”

Typewritten again for the following:

“Please call Neville Griffin for more details”

Below that were two numbers, which I presumed were his landline and his mobile phone.

Scribbling down the info in my notebook, I resolved to call this Neville Griffin later that day. I had absolutely no experience at being a magician’s assistant but I had always been fascinated by magic ever since I was a little girl, and I was always being teased by my lovers by how amazingly bendy I was in bed – so why not give it a go?

______

After a brief phone call where we spoke only to arrange a meeting place and a time - his warehouse at noon the next day - I was left to wonder what Neville might be like. I couldn’t help but pre-judge him, with a name like Neville he was bound to be a total nerd, or perhaps older than he was letting on. Still, he did have a nice voice...

Whatever, I needed the work and impressing him with my appearance could go a long way... even nerds liked pretty girls and you didn’t often see a plain magician’s assistant, so I needed to look my absolute best. I spent the rest of the evening exfoliating, shaving, deep conditioning my hair, and giving myself a mani-pedi and a facial in preparation for the following day.

Despite my best efforts I slept fitfully, nerves getting the better of me. Putting on a little extra concealer to hide any dark circles my sleepless night may have caused, I finished off my make-up with a pop of cherry-red lipstick. Something a little bit daring and sexy. It paired well with the knee length, floaty red summer dress I was wearing, its sweetheart neckline giving onlookers just a peek of my décolletage.

I arrived at the road the warehouse was situated on a few minutes early so I could scope the place out. ‘Number Nine', I read off the GPS directions on my phone. It was a fairly barren looking alley, the kind of place you’d see on police shows where murders or rapes had taken place. I double checked my bag for my pepper spray and my rape alarm. All set.

Taking a deep breath and fixing a smile in place, I knocked on the door. It took a minute before I heard the heavy, metallic clank of a lock sliding back and the creak of the door opening to finally reveal Neville Griffin.

Oh.

I don’t know what I was expecting, but it wasn’t a young, ridiculously good looking guy. His long, brown hair - just reaching his chin - framed a classically handsome face. Azure-blue eyes hid behind wire-rimmed glasses, resting on a strong nose, and his lips were a delicate pink and looked deliciously plump and kissable. He was dressed in a dark blue hoodie worn partially zipped over a red t-shirt, black jeans and a pair of black converse All Stars. All clothes of a typical guy in his late 20s.

“Oh, hello.” he said, his forehead wrinkling in confusion as if he hadn’t expected to be interrupted.

“Hi? I spoke to you on the phone last night, I’m here about the...”

“Oh, the assistant job, of course.” He wiped his hand on his jeans even though it didn’t look particularly dirty. “I’m sorry I was working and lost track of time.”

He held out the hand and I took it. It was warm and soft, with several calluses on his fingers, likely from day after day of practicing card tricks. For a guy of relatively small statue – around 5ft 7 I guessed – and lean build, he had large hands and long, thick fingers. My pussy gave a small, involuntary throb at the thought of what those fingers could do if given the opportunity. His grip was firm and I idly wondered if he was one of those guys who looked slight but was actually deceptively strong. Fuck, I had to stop thinking like that and concentrate on the interview. This guy could potentially be my Boss, not a one-night stand.

“Do come in,” he nodded, standing aside to let me enter the warehouse. It was dark, despite the overhead lighting, and the entire place was cluttered with debris of various magic tricks, boxes, notebooks and unquantifiable detritus. I noticed a zigzag lady in the corner, and a very cool looking guillotine towards the back.

Neville guided us towards two old, shoddy-looking stools placed right in the middle of the room and indicated that I take a seat. I sat up straight, my knees together and my hands placed in my lap. I had read somewhere that it was how Royalty was taught to sit, and that it was supposed to make you look more elegant and sophisticated.

Neville threw himself down on the stool in front of me, our knees almost touching. I could feel the heat emanating from his body, smell his aftershave, which was a musky, woody scent and very sexy. Jesus, I had to stop thinking like that!! Concentrate!!

“OK,” he started, “First off, are you a fan of magic?”

“Oh yes,” I said honestly, “I’ve loved it since I was a little girl.”

From his nod and smile, I figured we were off to a good start. The rest of his questions were pretty easy to answer and we fell into a casual conversation rather than a formal interview. It was looking good.

“And just one more question,” he said finally. “Do you think you can drop ten pounds?”

The flat of my palm made a satisfying crack as it made contact with his cheekbone.

“No!” he cried, clutching at his reddening face. “You misunderstood. It’s because the spaces you have to squeeze yourself into are so tiny. You need to be as small as you can possibly get yourself, that’s all.” He rubbed at his cheek. “I think you look perfect as you are. I mean fine. I mean you look...” He stopped. The other side where I hadn’t slapped was turning red now too.

“Oh.” I dropped my head, kicking myself for losing such a great job in the dying minutes. Talk about clutching defeat from the jaws of victory. “I’m sorry.”

“It's fine.” He stood and offered me his hand again. I stood too and took it.

“Thank you for seeing me.”

“It was no problem. Well, almost no problem. Can you start on Saturday?” he asked, looking almost scared in case I slapped him again.

“You mean you want me?” I asked, shocked. I couldn’t believe that I had still got the job despite screwing up so heinously at the end.

“Yes, I want you. For the job!” he clarified. Together we walked to the door of the warehouse and he showed me out into the filthy alleyway. “Saturday at 4pm. Don’t be late.”

As the door shut behind me I did a little happy dance before setting off to catch my tube. I was going to be a magician’s assistant. What the actual fuck.

_____

I wasn’t really sure what to wear to my first day as a Magician's Assistant, so I just threw on what I normally wore to yoga. Skin-tight lilac leggings with a matching sports bra and a sloppy, cropped vest in baby pink. I chose ballet style trainers as I thought they’d have the most flexibility if I had to do anything particularly bendy. I covered it all with an oversized hoody to keep me relatively decent on the tube. I didn’t fancy having my ass groped by some greasy stranger.

The door to the warehouse was slightly ajar so I just knocked on it, called out a hello and let myself in, unzipping my hoody as I walked through the cluttered space. I tossed it over some boxes out of the way. I didn’t see Neville at first, until I spotted him kneeling beside the guillotine, tightening some screws. He looked good in his dark blue jeans and navy and white striped top and I took a moment to appreciate the view. He didn’t seem to notice me at first so I cleared my throat. Still nothing. I called his name again, louder this time and he jumped, looking up at me with wide eyes, scrambling to get up while simultaneously pulling earbuds from his ears.

“Sorry I didn’t see you... hear you come in.” he said, winding the cord of the earbuds around his phone and setting it on his desk beside him.

“I'm a few minutes early,” I said apologetically.

“No, it’s... fine,” he nodded. I noticed that he was still looking down at the phone he had placed on his desk. I wondered what was so important about it. Especially as it was switched off.

“I didn’t really know what to wear so I hope this is appropriate.” I indicated to my outfit and he gave me a quick glance before looking down again.

“It's fine,” he repeated. OK, so it was going to be like that. Still, if Neville was going to be weird and anti-social it was going to make it a lot easier to not be attracted to him.

“So what are we doing first?” I asked with fake brightness, trying to lighten the mood.

“First things first,” he tapped the table three times with his fingers and then finally deigned to look at me, “Your name. We need to change it.”

“What’s wrong with my name?” I asked indignantly, crossing my arms beneath my breasts. I knew this action would push them up slightly and make them more apparent but to be honest I wasn’t really caring about that at that particular moment. Neville, however, definitely seemed to notice as his eyes widened slightly before he realised himself and forced eye contact again.

“It’s not exactly showbiz, is it? You need something with a bit of spark, a bit of pizazz. So from now on, your name is Miss Ruby Jewel.” He moved his hand through the air as if performing some mystical action.

“Ruby Jewel? It sounds like a fucking porn star, no way!” I shook my head.

“Well, I was thinking more Bond Girl,” Neville sniffed haughtily. “Anyway it's too late now, I’ve already started designing the promotional material. You'll get used to it. Besides, it goes with my ideas for your costume.”

“Oh yes, I meant to ask, where do I get my costume? Is there some sort of dress shop that caters exclusively for Magician’s Assistants?” I enquired, half joking.

“Of course not, you silly girl!” he snapped.

I jumped. While I was shocked at his outburst, I was ashamed to say that a part of me found the dominance in his voice... kind of arousing. A shiver travelled up my spine and I felt my nipples start to harden against the soft fabric of my sports bra.

Oh please God let the two layers of my bra and vest be thick enough so my erect nipples don’t show through.

No such luck. I could see them poking out through my top like two tiny pebbles.

Neville cleared his throat and continued, rubbing a hand over his face. “I’m sorry, I’ve just been working so many long hours trying to come up with new tricks... I just need something...” He trailed off and turned away for a moment before shaking his head and turning back to me with a smile, as if the previous moment hadn’t just happened.

“There’s a local seamstress who will make your costumes couture. Although we can only afford one for now. I’ve already sent her my design ideas and so I just have to get your measurements and email them to her and she can begin.”

My heart leapt into my throat and my legs almost gave out at hearing him say that. Surely that couldn’t be right. “I’m not going to her to be measured? Isn’t that standard?”

“Doing it this way will save us time and money,” he confirmed, already picking up the tape measure from his desk. “I think you’ll love your costume. It’s going to be ruby red and adorned with lots of sequins and jewels. And you will wear red lipstick like the one you had on during your interview, as that was...” He paused and swallowed hard. “Sufficient.”

“Does it have to be so... gaudy?” I asked, my nose wrinkling in distaste as he measured my height and my body length.

“We need you to be as bright and flashy as possible.” I quivered slightly as he fastened the tape around my waist. We were practically nose to nose, except he was looking down to read the numbers on the tape. I could smell his aftershave again but this time I was close enough to also smell his shampoo and his soap. He smelled clean, with that same woody, musky scent from before, but with a hint of coconut from the shampoo. Heady, sexy and inherently male.

My pussy was throbbing again, despite me telling myself that this was my Boss and nothing could ever happen. Unfortunately my body didn’t want to listen to my brain and continued to send signals of arousal south. I could feel myself getting wet already. Fuck, this was bad.

He whipped the tape away and stood back, and already I missed the heat from his body.

“The reason Magicians use beautiful female assistants in bright outfits,” he began, rolling up the tape, “is because we want the audience to be watching them here...” he waved his empty hand around in the air in front of me, “while the magic is happening over here!” He clicked the fingers of his other hand, then opened it to reveal that the tape had disappeared. “Classic misdirection.”

“I’m impressed!” I laughed, applauding. “OK so where is it?”

He leaned in and for a split second I thought he was going to kiss me. Instead he brought the tape out from behind my ear where it had supposedly been hiding. The disappointment of not being kissed must have shown on my face because he said “What, the old ‘behind the ear’ gag not good enough for you?”

“No, it’s great, really.” I faked a smile. “But we should get on, don’t you think?” I wanted this torture over with as soon as possible. Still, Neville had called me a ‘beautiful assistant’. That was something at least.

“Yes, quite right.” he agreed. “I just need to do your... ah... your top area.”

Wait, did he mean my bust? Was Neville really going to put that mother fucking tape around my breasts? Fuck!

Awkwardly he put his arms around me as I stood frozen to the spot like a statue, my arms stretched out wide either side of me like wings. I didn’t even dare breathe. After fumbling with and dropping the tape twice, he finally got it around the largest part of my breasts, touching the two parts of the tape together as quickly as he could. His knuckles brushed against my still painfully erect nipples so there was no possible way he couldn’t have noticed them. The movement was sending little zings of pleasure through me and I had to clamp my lips shut so as not to accidentally moan out loud.

I noticed that his hands were trembling and when his eyes met mine for a moment I could see how large and dilated his pupils were. Wait a minute... was it possible that he was finding this just as arousing as I was?

“OK, got that,” he mumbled, letting the tape drop to the floor and rushing over to his desk to jot down the details. “I’ll email those details to Sarah tonight and she can get started on your costume first thing tomorrow. I’ll give her your number and she can call you when she wants you to come in for a fitting.”

“Sounds good,” I said, eying up the bottle of whiskey sitting on Neville's desk. God I could really use a drink right now. But that wouldn’t be very professional and I was already walking a very thin tightrope there. Instead I went over to my bag, got my bottled water and took a long slug, hoping it would cool my ardour as well as my body.

The rest of the evening was spent explaining to me how most of his bigger tricks worked and what I would be expected to do as an assistant. I was actually quite excited to begin learning how to perform properly.

“We'll have our first proper rehearsal on Monday, but we’ll take it slow and I’ll just walk you through a few tricks to start with using the actual props,” Neville was saying as he walked me to the door. “Nothing too difficult at the beginning, maybe the zig zag lady, or I could saw you in half, show you the Rope escape...”

“That all sounds great. Well, bye then,” I waved, fighting the urge to grab him and kiss him goodbye.

“Bye, see you on Monday,” he smiled, and my stomach did a backflip.

______

I lay in bed that night thinking back to everything that had happened that evening. Remembering Neville’s touch, the way his knuckles brushed against my sensitive nipples, the intoxicating scent of him. Fucking hell, I was so aroused!! If I didn’t do something to take the edge off I would never sleep. Fumbling in my bedside cabinet I found a small bottle of lube and my trusty rampant rabbit vibrator.

I let my imagination run wild as I switched on the pink silicone device. I closed my eyes and pretended the long, thick dildo section was really Neville's cock as it stretched me open, and the tiny little ‘ears' buzzing rapidly against my clit and sending electric shocks of pleasure through me were really his fingers working me to orgasmic bliss. I recalled his domineering attitude from earlier and quickly made up a fantasy scenario in my head where I kept getting the trick wrong and he was shouting at me that he was going to have to punish me, that every time I made a mistake he was going to have to fuck me until I learned to get it right.

I came hard and fast, his name on my lips.

I felt dirty once the afterglow had worn off, and not the good kind. Neville was my employer and no matter how attracted to him I was, I shouldn’t be getting myself off thinking about him like that. Even if it was the best orgasm I’d had in a long time.

I turned over on my side and fell into a broken, troubled sleep, full of crazy dreams about being sawn in half, and Neville leaving me there, carrying the bottom half of the box away with my bottom half still inside it. OK, surely that had to be some sort of weird sex metaphor.

______

Monday came around quickly and I was back at the warehouse. Despite telling myself I wasn’t interested in impressing Neville, I had dressed in one of my cutest vest tops - a tight black ribbed number - and a short, ice-skater style skirt in a bright, ruby red fabric. It was probably totally impractical for what we would be doing but I figured I could always claim I was trying to match my new name if Neville made any comments about it.

As it turned out he simply gave me a quick glance up and down and then told me he was leaving to run a few errands but would be back soon, and that I should pick up a deck of cards and practice shuffling them while he was out.

After almost 45 minutes I got bored of shuffling and started to poke around the warehouse, snooping in drawers, looking through boxes, peeking in notebooks. Nothing was particularly interesting, until I opened the bottom drawer of his desk. There, hidden amongst papers and decks of cards, was a box of condoms, still unopened in its cellophane wrapper.

Why Neville, you sly dog.

Of course there was nothing to say the box was new. He could have bought them ages ago, stuffed them in there and forgotten about them. They could even be for some kind of trick. But maybe, just maybe, he had bought them since I arrived, and that could be confirmation that he liked me back.

I closed the drawer just in time as Neville came back into the warehouse. “What took you so long?” I pouted. “There’s only so much card shuffling a gal can do.”

“I do expect you to be fully proficient.” He grabbed the cards and shuffled them like I’d only ever seen Blackjack dealers in Casinos do, with lots of fancy cuts and flips. OK, so that was impressive.

“Can we start working on an actual magic trick now?” I wheedled, my hand in a light grip on his arm for that little extra peer pressure.

He was staring at where my fingers massaged the bare skin. It was unusual to see him without his hoody – I remembered he had left wearing it but now he was just in his black t-shirt and light blue Levis.

“Fine, let’s do the rope escape,” he said after a moment. I let go to allow him to cross the warehouse to get the correct prop he’d need. It was a large wooden X style cross about 6 foot in height and behind that was a slightly taller pole. At the top of that pole was another rectangular pole coming off it, rather like one that would hold a shower curtain. Only this pole held a thick, dark blue velvet curtain that could be raised and lowered at will.

“Let me explain how it works,” Neville began, wheeling the entire contraption into place. “You will stand in front of the cross and I will take the rope from where it is already tied off at the back here, loop it around one ankle, then the other, then up to your wrist, then the other, and then back down to tie it off tightly again. A member of the audience can come up to verify you’re securely fastened in.”

We moved around to the back. “But the secret is that this lever here can turn and give you just enough slack to get out. So the trick goes that I tie you up, I pull the curtain up, I twist this and free you and I climb in to take your place, you twist it back to tighten the ropes again and pull the curtain down to reveal that we’ve switched positions.”

He looked at me to make sure I was following. I nodded - it all seemed pretty simple.

“With practice we can get it down to a matter of seconds to make the switch.” He snapped his fingers on the word ‘seconds’ for extra emphasis.

“Can I try?” I asked.

“Of course,” he nodded, almost proudly, as if he was pleased to see that I was so keen. I lined myself up against the cross, both arms in the air and my legs open wide in an X shape. Neville expertly looped the rope around each limb, loosely to begin with. “Are you OK for me to tighten it?” he asked. I gave a quick nod of acquiescence and the rope immediately snapped tight against my wrists and ankles, causing me to let out an involuntary gasp. He tied it off at the back and came around to stand in front of me.

“How does it feel?” he enquired. I noticed his voice was gruffer than before. “Can you free yourself?”

I twisted against the nylon rope in vain. “No, I’m well and truly trapped.” I confirmed. There was nothing I could do to free myself. I was totally at Neville’s mercy. And oh fuck if the thought of that wasn’t a massive turn on. My clit throbbed, and I wondered if I dare push the envelope with Neville. If I was right about the condoms, he wanted something to happen between us and this might be the perfect opportunity to test the waters. But... if I was wrong, I could lose everything.

“I feel so vulnerable like this,” I said breathily, my voice dripping with submissiveness. “You could do absolutely anything to me and I couldn’t stop you.” I sucked in my bottom lip and looked up at him coyly through my lashes.

Neville let out a long, shaky breath and stepped towards me, placing his left hand on my hip.

“Anything?” he asked, his voice cracking a little. We both knew exactly what question was really being asked in that one little word.

“Anything... Sir.” I confirmed. And with that his entire demeanour shifted. Any trace of nerves were gone, and the dominant Neville I so fantasised about took over.

“Do you know the traffic light system?”

“I do,” I nodded. It was on.

His fingernails dug into the soft skin of my hip even through my skirt. I’d probably have bruises there later and I’d wear them like a badge of honour.

“I already had to take a very uncomfortable walk home this morning with my hoody tied around my waist to hide my hard-on, thanks to you coming into work dressed like a little whore,” he sneered at me. “I think we’re going to have to have a very serious talk about professionalism in the workplace.”

The hand that had been on my hip suddenly disappeared, only to reappear with a hard smack on the side of my buttock, the only part of my ass that was accessible. I gasped at the sharp sting and then moaned with arousal as the flesh burned. Another smack, only this time he slipped his hand under my skirt and groped at the still-smarting globe of muscle over the satin of my underwear.

“I’m sorry, Sir.” I moaned, wishing that I could cross my legs and put some pressure on my almost painfully throbbing clit. But I was still bound and completely at Neville’s mercy.

He stared at me, eyes fiery, licking his lips like a wolf licking its chops before devouring its kill. He obviously enjoyed me calling him Sir, the light blue of his tight jeans doing nothing to hide the thickening outline by the inseam of his right thigh.

He must have noticed me staring at his hardening cock, as he palmed at it with his right hand, admitting, “I already came once today thanks to you, you little slut.”

“Yes Sir,” I gasped, trying to push my pelvis forward to give him more access to my ass, his fingers kneading into the hot flesh. But I needed more!

He moved behind me and I could hear him searching through the drawers. “The good thing about being a magician,” he smirked, coming towards me with a small pair of scissors, “is that I can make anything disappear.” He reached up beneath my skirt and with two simple snips my underwear came away in his hand. He slipped the scraps of black satin and lace into his jeans pocket.

Because I still had my skirt on I wasn’t actually exposed, but because of my stance, my legs spread open so wide, I felt more naked than I ever had.

“This too.” He placed the scissors at the bottom of my vest and slowly began cutting. I protested at first but that earned me another spank.

“Sorry Sir,” I apologised. Just knowing that I was completely under his control was making me so aroused that I could actually feel my wetness begin to drip down my thighs. He cut the vest away completely, leaving me in just my sports bra and tiny skirt. At least the bra zipped at the front so he wouldn’t have to cut that.

He set the scissors and fabric scraps on the desk and came back to stand before me, eying me hungrily. “Please Sir,” I moaned. “Touch me.”

Agonisingly slowly he clicked the zip on my bra down, tooth by tooth as I writhed against the ropes. Finally my top was completely open, and he took one of my hardened nipples into his mouth, swirling his tongue around the hot, pebbled skin. His hand massaged the other breast, rolling the nipple between his thumb and forefinger. I groaned at being touched at last, my hands clenching in empty fists as lightning bolts of pleasure ran through my body.

“Fuck, you’re so beautiful,” he mumbled against the skin of my chest as his free hand found its way to my upper thigh. He rested it there for a moment and I whimpered, desperate for him to touch me more intimately.

“When I’m ready,” he scolded, biting my nipple as punishment.

“Yes, Neville.” He looked up at me through his impossibly long lashes with an angry look on his face, and I knew exactly what mistake I’d made. “I mean Yes Sir, I’m sorry Sir,” I gasped out, feeling my whole body flushing with arousal.

“Good girl,” he purred.

Torturously slowly, his fore and middle fingers traced a line across the smooth skin of my upper thigh, up under my skirt and then dipped down into the crease of my hip. He explored further still until he came to the delicate fold between my thigh and outer lip, where my juices had already dripped down.

“God, you’re soaked!” He sounded astonished that I could be so wet only from what we had done so far.

All I could do was moan in agreement, straining to try and force his fingers to slip closer to my clit. Thankfully he didn’t make me wait any longer and slid the two fingers either side of my dripping hole, collecting as much of my fluids on his thick digits as he could while still avoiding entering me, before at last rubbing his fingertips over that hot little bundle of nerves at my core.

I jerked and cried out at finally being touched.

“Easy, baby,” he cooed in a voice one might use to soothe a startled horse, all the while still rubbing circles on my clit. “I’ve got you.”

The ‘fuck’ that slipped out of my mouth was practically a sob. Neville really did have magic hands and I could already feel the beginnings of an orgasm building deep inside me.

It was killing me that I couldn’t reach out and run my fingers through his hair, but being tied up was turning me on more than I could have ever imagined it would.

“So fucking wet...” Neville moaned into my neck as he kissed down it, and I gasped as he suddenly pushed both fingers into my pussy without warning. The hot stretch of it felt so amazing and I just wished I could clamp my legs around him and grind into it. As it was I tried to tighten my muscles around him as much as I could. His thumb continued to work my clit and the tight ball of electricity started to grow deep in my stomach. Fuck, I was close.

“Gonna cum,” I gasped.

The thumb withdrew. I groaned in frustration and displeasure. I had been so close!

“You cum when I say so, babygirl.” he said assertively, biting and sucking at my collarbone as he slowly pumped his fingers in and out of me.

Finally the thumb returned and my pleasure built to a crescendo again. I couldn’t help myself, I moaned out, “Please Sir, let me cum!”

“As you asked so nicely,” he smirked. “Cum for me.”

I closed my eyes and allowed the white heat of my orgasm to overwhelm me, crying out as the waves of pleasure flooded through me, over and over and over.

Finally I blinked my eyes open, my body heavy and satiated. He was holding me up, as my legs could not do it for themselves and he didn’t want the rope to cut into my wrists. Reaching around behind me he pulled the lever to loosen the ropes and helped me to step out of the bindings, as I was wobbling like a new-born deer. Then he lifted me up and carried me to an old chaise lounge in the corner with half its stuffing missing.

“Are you OK?” he asked, checking my wrists and ankles for chafing. Thankfully there was none.

“I’m fine,” I answered honestly. “But what about you?” I nodded towards his crotch, where his very obvious erection was still waiting to be taken care of.

Once he knew I wasn’t hurt, dominant Neville came out to play again.

“Oh my sweet little babygirl, don’t worry,” he smiled, “I fully intend to take you.” He grabbed me by the neck to pull me into a deep kiss. I realised that despite him just giving me the most amazing orgasm, this was actually the first time we had kissed! His powerful tongue probed against mine, his hands roaming over my mostly naked body. Finally, with my own hands free I could touch everywhere I wanted to. They raked through his hair, across his back, cupping his tight buttocks. I was in heaven.

He stopped the kiss after a few minutes and stood up to pull off his T-shirt and jeans, while I slipped out of my last remaining pieces of clothing. I lay back and admired the view in front of me, this beautiful man all mine, his huge cock erect and already leaking pre-cum just for me.

He leaned down to kiss me again and then with one hand flat on my chest, forced me to lie back on to the chaise lounge. Both of us were now fully naked, our bodies shining in the dim light of the warehouse.

He reached down into the back pocket of his discarded jeans and pulled out a condom that he must have stashed there earlier when he was getting the scissors.

“Ready?” he asked, tearing open the foil and carefully rolling the prophylactic down his thick shaft.

“Yes Sir, please take me. I need you.”

His beautifully reddened, kiss-bitten lips twisted into a satisfied smile and he laid his full bodyweight on top of me, the blunt head of his cock resting against my dripping entrance. He teased me for a moment by circling the flushed cockhead around the hole before finally breaching my tightness, just with the tip at first. I let out a long, low moan at the delicious stretch and wrapped my legs around his back, trying to force him into me more quickly.

“Ah ah ah!” he scolded, his left hand flying to my neck. He squeezed lightly in punishment, but it was nothing I couldn’t handle so I didn’t need to use any of the safe words. “At my pace, little Princess.”

I kept my legs around his waist but I ceased any attempts to pull him closer. I threw my head back and mewled as he finally started to push himself in fully, enjoying that deep burning sensation of being completely filled. He bottomed out and began to thrust slowly inside me, drawing himself all the way out to the tip and then sliding back in again.

It was like sweet, divine torture. He obviously had no intention of rushing this, each stroke brushing against my G spot just enough to start building my orgasm but not enough to actually make me cum.

He kissed and nibbled at my throat, working his way up my neck to suckle on my earlobes which made me shiver with delight. I could feel my skin prickle with goosebumps as his tongue worked its way down again, finally ending up at my breasts. My nipples hardened in response and he sucked one into his mouth, his warm saliva leaving a trailed string from the pebbled skin to his bottom lip for a moment when he pulled away.

I grabbed a fistful of his hair and pulled him down to kiss me again, and as we kissed his thrusts began to speed up. We moaned into each other’s mouths, the arousal building for both of us. He reached down between our writhing bodies and started to finger my clitoris again, and I groaned loudly as immense pleasure overtook me. Neville was grunting with the effort of fucking me now, his thrusts growing more frantic and erratic.

My second orgasm was building, the tight knot of pleasure in my core growing as Neville’s cock brushed my G spot with every stroke, and his fingers expertly worked my clit.

“Fuck, I’m gonna cum,” I announced, my eyes fluttering closed, stars behind them in my vision.

“That’s it, cum for me my good girl,” he praised. “So fucking beautiful.”

I let the orgasm wash over me, pure pleasure spiking every nerve in my body until everything turned white and I shuddered in Neville’s arms.

“Jesus, uh, fuck,” Neville groaned, and I felt him stiffen, then he too shuddered as he came inside me, his cock twitching as he unloaded into the condom. After a moment he collapsed on top of me, completely spent.

We lay there for a few moments until the chill made me shiver. Neville stood up and turned away to dispose of the condom, seemingly embarrassed for me to see him do the ‘clean up’. Then he grabbed a bottle of water from the small fridge and a blanket that had been thrown over some boxes in the corner, and came back to the chaise lounge, throwing the blanket over the both of us.

“Are you OK?” he asked me, handing me the water. I took it gratefully and took a long drink. He did likewise and then set the bottle aside.

“I am,” I smiled, snuggling into his arms. Even though the dominant Neville was a huge turn-on, I was glad that he knew how to do the aftercare as well. “So what does this mean for us?” I asked, even though I was terrified of the answer. “Was this a one-off, or...”

“No!” he said, a little to quickly and loudly. “I mean, if you want us to... I’d like... do you want to go out? I’ve always thought you were attractive.”

“Same,” I smiled, relieved that he wasn’t just using me as a one night stand. I wanted to be with Neville. He seemed like a really nice guy, and they had been few and far between lately.

“So do you actually want to go out with me?” I asked, reaching a hand up to curl it affectionately through his hair.

“I do,” he confirmed.

“So... a proper date,” I mused. “How about tomorrow night?”

“That sounds great,” he smiled, taking the hand that had been in his hair and kissing it. “Oh, but I’ll have to take a rain check I’m afraid. I’ve got a magician coming round tomorrow night to show me a trick I’m interested in buying.”

“Oh right,” I replied, feeling a little bit annoyed, but understanding that work needed to come first. “Who’s the Magician?”

“Some old guy called Willy Wando,” he said. “But it probably won’t come to anything.”

Even if Neville didn’t hold out much hope, I had a funny feeling this trick was going to change his life.

Marinette Dupain-Cheng’s Spite Playlist: Remix CH14

Things are changing ;) The next 10 chapters look a lot different than the original, and most of them are brand new.

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Chapter 14: Death by a Thousand Cuts

The crowd waiting for Ladybug and Chat Noir outside the Louvre grew thicker as another van pulled up, and a crew of reporters hopped out. Alya drummed her fingers on her phone, shifting when the new additions forced their way into the throng. She just wanted answers. Being selected to be Rena Rouge meant she had some sort of bond with Ladybug, right? So why did Ladybug replace her without warning? Was it out of necessity? Or did the fox Miraculous have a permanent new owner?

Camera bulbs flashed as the heroes exited the museum, and several microphones competed for their attention, swallowing Alya in a sea of limbs. Lila promised a private interview, and if her stories were to be believed, she’d better come through. This was the moment that would define their friendship, and more importantly, Alya would finally learn if Marinette and Adrien were telling the truth.

“Ladybug!”

“What’s the story on this akuma?”

“Can you confirm that you and Chat Noir are dating?”

“Do you have any leads on tracking down Hawkmoth?”

“A student got punished for wandering off on a field trip. No, we’re not dating—stop asking! And as of right now, we have no leads, but Chat Noir and I are doing everything in our power to keep you all safe,” she said smoothly. She never once looked at Alya in the crowd.

“Ladybug,” Alya spoke up.

Ladybug shifted to face her, though her face bore no sense of recognition or familiarity. Her expression was blank, cold, business-like, distant—a steely mask hiding her emotions.

Alya bit her lip and continued. “Um, I was hoping to get an answer to a question many of my followers have. Do you have time for an interview?”

Ladybug’s earrings beeped frantically—a reminder that the heroes were on literal timers.

“I’ve only got a couple minutes,” she replied. “Make it quick.”

Strike one.

“My viewers want to know what happened to Rena Rouge. Will Malin be a permanent replacement, or was he a temporary stand-in?” she asked.

Several reporters rolled their eyes. As far as they were concerned, these questions were yesterday’s news. No one else seemed to care that Rena Rouge was replaced. They clung to whoever wore the suit in the moment, but it was the most important question in the world to Alya.

Something flashed in Ladybug’s eyes, an uneasy expression Alya saw in the mirror a lot as of late. Those big blue eyes were filled with pain, hurt, and regret, but Alya couldn’t figure out why. What had she done to receive such tortured expressions from someone who once trusted her?

“Malin will wield the Fox Miraculous in all battles moving forward.” She grabbed her yoyo. “No more questions. Bug out.”

Reporters glared daggers at Alya for wasting their opportunity to get the latest scoop. Alya could see it in their eyes. As far as they were concerned, Rena Rouge was old news. Her heart dropped to her feet, shattering like glass on concrete.

Strike two.

“I’ll be happy to take a few more questions.” Chat Noir stepped to the center of the crowd. His eyes skipped over Alya too, lengthening the chasm growing between them.

Strike three.

All the microphones pointed at him, pushing Alya aside just as Ladybug had done to Rena Rouge. Her heart hammered in her chest, a painful lump blocking her throat as tears welled in her eyes. Did Ladybug not trust her anymore? What did it all mean? Lila was supposed to talk to her and set up a private interview, but Ladybug treated her so coldly. Why?

Because she’s a liar.

The thought flashed in her mind, Marinette’s familiar voice ringing in her ears. Alya had to wonder if knowing the truth was any better than living in ignorance. One thing was certain: if Lila really was a liar, then Alya had a lot of apologizing to do.

♪♫♪ Sanctuary ♪♫♪

“Hey, you made it!” Macy took Marinette’s hands and planted kisses on her cheeks. “Is Adrien coming?”

“He said he was.” Marinette retrieved her phone from her purse to check her messages.

“You two should sit together.” Macy insisted, and when Marinette’s eyebrows raised, she added, “I’m a huge fan of his, but you two seem really close, and I’d never want to start anything over a boy. It’s not worth ruining our friendship.”

“Macy…” Marinette pulled her in for a hug. “You’re the best.”

“No, you are, and if Adrien can’t see that then he has poor taste,” Macy said. “If you ever need a wingwoman, I’ve got your back, and I’m sure Eliott can teach you all kinds of ways to flirt.”

“I might take him up on that. I’m hopeless.” Marinette admitted. “Sometimes when I talk to him my words come out wrong.”

“Why don’t I set up the perfect scene for you two tonight?” Macy offered. “Afterall, the play is packed with romance. He won’t know what hit him.”

“Who won’t know what?” Adrien asked as he and Martin approached.

“Oh, nothing,” Macy said with a coy lilt. “Just girl stuff, you wouldn’t be interested.”

“I get it. Keep your secrets.” Adrien smirked.

“Come on, Eliott reserved us box seats!” Macy took Marinette’s wrist and led the way.

As promised, Macy sat Marinette next to Adrien and toted Martin off with her to “get a drink.” Adrien seemed oblivious to her plans but unbothered by the extra alone time with Marinette.

“So, your dad let you come, huh?” Marinette said conversationally.

“He’s more amicable toward other rich people, and he thinks theatre is a more…enriching activity.” He rolled his eyes. “I guess he figures I’ll behave.”

“Either way, I’m glad. It means we can spend more time together.” Marinette offered him a shy smile.

“I know. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be a downer. I’m really glad he’s letting me out. Ever since you changed schools, I don’t get to see you as often, so I always look forward to spending time together,” he said.

Marinette’s heart skipped three beats. “Yeah, it’s great! N-Not that he doesn’t trust you, but that we can hang out, I mean. It stinks that he doesn’t trust all of your friends and keeps you at home, and I’m sure it must be hard for you, and… I’m gonna stop talking.”

She turned to face forward, slapping her palm to her forehead. Maybe she should have hit up Eliott for flirting advice before she let Macy push them together.  

“No, no! It’s fine. It is hard, but I’ve got really great friends like you who understand, so that makes it better,” he said.

“You know I’m always here for you if you want to talk about it. Any time.” She reached out, hesitantly at first, to place her hand over his. “You’re…really important to me, Adrien.”

Adrien searched her soft expression before a smile curled on his lips. “Thank you. You have no idea how much that means to me.” He gave her hand a squeeze as Macy and Martin returned.

Macy nudged Marinette with a giggle, and she bit back a smile. Maybe she wasn’t as hopeless as she thought. Adrien kept hold of her hand until the lights dimmed, and the theatre hall broke into applause. It was a small gesture, but Marinette would take it.

Eliott played an amazing Chat Noir, and even Margot didn’t do too bad as Ladybug, despite being a total brat behind the scenes. The play was fun, and a reminder of how much Paris trusted Ladybug and Chat Noir to defend them. Though, she did find fault with their kiss at the end seeing as she and Chat were so not like that, but Paris wanted what it wanted even if it couldn’t be further from the truth.

“You. Were. Awesome!” Macy tackled Eliott the moment they met up afterward.

“Thanks,” Eliott chuckled. “I think that was my best performance.”

“You play Chat Noir so well, Eliott. Are you sure you’re not really him?” Marinette teased.

“I’d believe it,” Adrien said. “I’m impressed by the quality of your playwright’s puns.”

“They’re almost as cheesy as the real Chat Noir’s,” Marinette added with a grunt.

“Not feline the cat puns, Marinette?” Adrien folded his arms over his chest and cocked a brow.

“Purrhaps she just doesn’t find them funny,” Eliott said with a wink.

“Then she has a very purr sense of humor.” Adrien smirked.

Marinette rolled her eyes, shooting him a playful grin of her own. “I just think his comedic timing needs work. They’re saving Paris; shouldn’t he take his job a little more seriously?”

“Meowch. No appreciation for good comedy with this one,” Adrien said.

“I may have to reconsider purrmitting you to attend the after party on my yacht,” Eliott said. “You have to make one cat pun to be admitted.”

“Do I have to?” Marinette groaned.

“We can chat about it on the way.” Macy giggled as Adrien and Eliott praised her contribution.

“Yeah, we’ve gato go.” Martin pointed to the door, only adding fuel to the fire.

Marinette sighed. “Betrayed by all of my friends at once. That’s cold.” When they all gave her expectant looks, she crossed her arms over her chest. “Please leave meowt of this.”

She rolled her eyes as they all applauded, curtsying and blowing sarcastic kisses. If anyone knew more cat puns than they ever wanted to, it was her. Chat Noir certainly kept them coming.

“Alright, I guess you can come.” Eliott draped an arm over her shoulder as they walked.

“You guys are insufferable,” Marinette said.

“You love us though.” Adrien wrapped an arm around her waist on the other side, and her cheeks warmed.

Across the lobby, Lisette was chatting with other stagehands, and Eliott stiffened. He might be good at flirting, but when it came to Lisette, he always clammed up. It didn’t help that she was shier than Marinette either.

“Go invite her.” Marinette urged, elbowing his side.

“What? Who? I wasn’t- you’re…”

“Hey, Lisette!” Marinette called, breaking out of his grip and beelining for her.

“Marinette!” Eliott chased after her.

Lisette tilted her head to one side. “Hey, you’re…”

“Marinette.” She held out a hand. “Eliott’s friend.”

“Yeah, you were at our dress rehearsal last night.” Lisette nodded, cheeks flushing when Eliott latched onto Marinette. “What’s up?”

“Nothing. Nothing’s up.” Eliott clamped a hand over Marinette’s mouth, and she gave him a prompting look. “Um, just I’m having a party on my yacht if you wanna come. Just a few friends and family, super casual. Margot won’t be there.”

Lisette clutched the hem of her shirt and bit her lip. “Sounds fun.” She rocked back on her heels. “Let me go home and change, then I’ll come over.”

“Okay, great!” Eliott said a little too loudly. “I’ll- We’ll see you there.”

“Great.”

“Cool.” He turned abruptly, dragging Marinette away by the wrist. “Okay, I deserved that revenge.”

“She likes you!” Marinette said.

Eliott couldn’t hide his smile. “Shut up.”

“She’s coming to your party.”

“Yeah, I got that. Thanks.” He let a breath pass his lips. “I’m just nervous. I’ve never liked someone before, and I’m scared that everything could go wrong.”

“Talk to her tonight. Let her get to know you, and I’m sure she’ll like you no matter what,” Marinette urged. “Have confidence.”

Eliott searched her expression, pursing his lips. “Okay.”

The rest of the group was waiting in the limo, and Marinette crawled in beside Adrien. Macy was prattling on about the play, particularly the big kiss at the end, teasing Eliott for having to kiss Margot.

“Do you think her snobbishness can infect you like getting bit by a zombie?” She poked his cheek.

“Shut up, we’ve rehearsed that kiss a 100 times over the past few weeks, and I’m fine.” He swatted her hand away.

“You really are a good actor if you can pretend to be in love with Margot for an hour and a half,” Macy said. She fanned her cheeks. “Even still, that kiss was so romantic! I would love to have seen the real thing on heroes day.”

“Oh, come on. That kiss so didn’t happen in real life. The playwright just added it in for dramatic effect,” Marinette said.

“How do you know?” Adrien quirked a brow.

“I- just Ladybug is always saying in interviews that they’re not a couple, so of course they didn’t kiss.” She crossed her arms over her chest.

“Oh, that’s just a cover story. They are totally in love. Chat Noir is head-over-heels for Ladybug, and she just hides her feelings so Hawkmoth can’t use it against them,” Macy said, not bothering to mask the ‘duh’ in her voice.

Marinette rolled her eyes. If only they knew.

When they arrived at Eliott’s yacht, her friends continued their chatter, and a small smile curled on Marinette’s lips. She really was lucky to have them, even if they all believed Ladybug was in love with Chat Noir—she’d convince them eventually. After everything that happened with Lila, Marinette was spiraling, feeling unappreciated, abandoned, and angry. Martin and Eliott said she helped them, but truthfully, their friendship saved her first. They showed her that real friends did exist, and that they don’t abandon one another.

Finally, her gaze rested on Adrien, the one thing she still had left from her old school. He’d grown quiet after their conversation. He flashed smiles and laughed when appropriate, but something hid behind those green eyes, an intensity Marinette had never seen from him before. After a while, he disappeared from the party, and Marinette wondered if he’d gone home until she found him on the upper deck looking out over the Seine.

“I’ve always thought the Seine was prettier at night,” he remarked as she approached. “The reflection of the lights on the water calms me down.”

“Are you okay? You’ve been quiet ever since the limo ride,” Marinette said. She leaned against the railing next to him. His eyes were fixed ahead, barring her from the emotions brewing inside. Another gray wall with a locked door between them.

Finally, he flicked his gaze over to her, searching her face as if she were a puzzle that needed solving. He looked at her like that a lot nowadays. Several times when they spent time together, she’d catch him staring. A month ago, she would have done anything to get Adrien to look at her, but now as they stood only centimeters apart, eyes locked, she didn’t know what to say. Her heart fluttered.

The last time they hung out, Adrien almost kissed her—a fact that haunted her every day since. What did it mean? Was Adrien in love with her? Was he going to kiss her now? Oh god, she shouldn’t have eaten the Camembert from that cheese platter.

His eyes bore into her so intensely, she thought she was going to pass out, but instead of kissing her, he bit his lip and asked, “How are you holding up with everything?”

Blinking in surprise, she breathed a sigh of relief. “I’m doing better now,” she said. “Some days are still rough, but I’m grateful for my friends. They’ve really helped me overcome everything.”

“I know you’ve been through a lot lately. I’m just glad you and I are still friends,” Adrien said softly. “You’re someone I don’t ever want to lose.”

Her cheeks warmed as he tucked a loose strand of hair into place. Taking a leap, she took a step toward him, curling her arms around his waist. He held her close, resting his head against hers.

“I’m really glad I still have you,” she whispered.

“You’ll always have me. I’ll always be watching out for you,” he said in her ear. “Always. I promise.”

♪♫♪ Careful ♪♫♪

“Hey, bestie.” Lila smiled as Alya approached their usual table at their favorite café. Her face fell when Alya flashed her a pensive frown. “Why the long face?”

“I talked to Ladybug yesterday,” she said. “She totally blew me off. I thought you said you were going to get me a private interview.”

“Oh no, I am so sorry, Alya!” Lila’s face fell into her hands. “I should have warned you, but I just don’t know what happened. I tried texting the private number Ladybug gave me, but she totally ghosted me. I don’t know what’s going on with her lately. She hasn’t been replying to me at all.”

How convenient.

Alya crossed her arms over her chest. “I’m having trouble believing you.”

“I’m not lying to you, Alya! Ladybug has been pulling away from me lately, and I don’t know why.” Lila’s lips curled into the perfect pout. “I find it really hurtful that you don’t trust me. I thought we were friends, but you’re starting to sound like Marinette.”

“We are, I just… I don’t know what to think anymore. I-” Alya averted her gaze with a sigh. “I need some time to clear my head, okay?”

“Of course. I know you have trust issues after what Marinette did to you, so I completely understand,” Lila said. “But please, don’t call me a liar like she used to. If you leave me, then everyone else will too.”

Alya chewed her cheek, searching Lila’s expression. Her eyes seemed so genuine that Alya almost apologized on the spot, but she knew that not everything in life was as it seemed. Be a journalist. Investigate.

“I gotta go,” she said. “My sisters want to see a movie this afternoon, and my parents are at work.”

“I’ll go with you,” Lila offered, but Alya held up a hand to stop her.

“That’s alright. I can handle it,” she said. “Thanks, though.”

Lila sank back into her chair with a pout. As Alya turned to leave, Lila’s face shriveled into a glare that sent a chill down her spine, but she kept walking. Maybe she imagined it. Her mind played all kinds of tricks on her lately. She only hoped the truth would reveal itself soon and free her from all of this doubt.  

♪♫♪ happiness ♪♫♪

“Do you want to talk about it?”

Ladybug sat on the edge of a roof, staring out over the city. She heard Chat Noir touch down behind her, but she didn’t turn around as he approached. Her head was drained, empty, lifeless as she stared ahead.

He didn’t question as he sat beside her. They knew each other well enough by now that she didn’t need to explain when she was upset. He just knew. The silence stretched on, but Chat Noir waited patiently while she gathered her thoughts.

“I knew it would happen,” she said finally. “I knew she would wonder.”

“Alya?”

Ladybug nodded. “I never told you, but she was Rena Rouge.”

Chat Noir’s mask raised, and Ladybug lowered her gaze to her lap.

“She must hate me now,” she murmured, lip quivering.

“You did replace her without an explanation,” he said pointedly.

“I had my reasons.” She swung her legs over the edge. “I need people that I trust by my side.”

“I wasn’t questioning your decision,” he said. “You know I trust you 100% no matter what.”

“I guess it’s not that I don’t trust her.” Ladybug sighed, chewing her lip. “I mean, I don’t doubt that she would still work with us, but she’s hanging out with Lila, and after everything…I can’t work with her.”

“I understand.” When Ladybug gave him a disbelieving look, he brushed her cheek with the back of his knuckle. “Really. I do, Bug.”

“I know it sounds selfish, but I can’t put my feelings aside,” she said. “I know we have a duty to protect the city, but if I can do that with someone else, then why go through the trouble?”

“No one’s asking you to.” When her face fell, Chat Noir reached out to cup her cheek. “Bug, you did the right thing. No one is doubting you. We need people we can work with and count on, and if Rena Rouge isn’t it, then it’s time for Malin to step in.”

She leaned against his shoulder, watching cars crawl up and down the street with sad eyes—a city full of people counting on her. They seemed so small from up here.

“It’s hard sometimes,” she said. “Having the whole city looking at you to fix all of their problems… The weight of the world gets so heavy.”

“Don’t worry about stepping on toes. We have to do what we can to save everyone, and we can’t do that if we’re working with people we can’t trust,” Chat Noir said. “It’s not selfish. It’s our job.”

Ladybug smiled, Chat Noir’s familiar warmth flooding her chest. Chat Noir could be sweet when he wanted. He could give Adrien a run for his money if he acted like this all the time. Nah, that was a stretch, but she’d always love Chat in her own way.

Ladybug stretched up to kiss his cheek. “Thanks, kitty.”

“You’re welcome.” He smirked, then added, “I just hope you’re not thinking of replacing me.”

“Of course not,” she giggled. “I know I can always count on you.”

“Good. Then we’re on the same page.” He leaned his head against hers, and they sat for several minutes, watching the city lights twinkle on the skyline.

She spent a lot of time leaning on blond boys lately, but in her defense, she had two of the best. Chat Noir trusted her even when she didn’t trust herself. Sure, he was goofy, full-of-himself, and his puns were terrible, but… Somedays she needed someone like that. Someone to make her laugh and roll her eyes. He was her best friend, and she hoped that even after they defeated Hawkmoth that they would always stay this close.

“Until next time, m’lady.” He bowed theatrically when they stood to leave. “I’m always here for you if you need me.”

“I know.” She pulled him in for a tight hug. “Thank you for being someone I can lean on. It means the world to me.”

“Of course, m’lady.”

Ladybug swooped down to the street, ducking behind an ad stand and letting her transformation drop. Clara’s presentation was in a week, and she was going to pull an all-nighter. Coffee was a must. She was getting close to finalizing a few of her designs, and now that she’d gotten everything off her chest about Alya, her mind was a lot clearer.

Rounding the corner, she crossed the street to a quaint little café before a waterfall of silky, red hair wiping a table in a dingy green apron caught her eye. Was that…

“Gabrielle?”

“It felt like ‘Let's go as far as we can go’. Maybe this was the biggest chance we would ever get. That was the kind of things I talked with the members. At that moment, we prepared ourselves for the worst.”

Notes before reading: This is from Kaoru’s first book “Dokugen” released on October 2015 in which his articles from “Ongaku to hito” magazine were compiled, but also an exclusive interview about his life was included. I already posted the first part of this interview (Pages 62-75 if you own the book) so for Kaoru’s birthday, I wanted to share the second part of the interview (Pages 130-143). In the first part, the interview covered his childhood to his first steps in the music scene and bands. This part covers from CHARM’s  disbandment to Dir en grey’s  and solo activities. ---- -Is CHARM a band that was formed by classmates? K: Well, there was one classmate and me, the rest were older. If I remember correctly, they were 3 years older? Even though they were the best guitar players among the members, as I wanted to play guitar myself,I told them one of them “play the bass” (laughs). That person and the other guitarist are siblings Originally, the brother and me were good friends so it was him who told me to form a band. It was like “There is no point in keeping (the band) at local level, I want to do a band that will be a stepping stone for the time being”, “If we don’t go out, we won’t make personal connections”. -“Let's get out of Hyogo” K: That's right. Anyway, the purpose of starting this band was to "get out". There was a live house in the local area, and there were some bands that released CDs from amateurs to indies, but the bands that were popular in the local area at that time were bands that wore long-sleeve T-shirts, slim denim pants and rubber soles shoes. There were many people like that in the local studio. There weren’t many bands like us….with long dyed hair…..That’s why I the person who worked part-time at the rental CD shop was super metal and I thought “There are real bandman in this city!”. There weren’t people like that. -You couldn’t make connections with people like you. K: That's right. I rarely meet people like that in my hometown. In order to sell/promote myself, I have to go out first. That's how the band started. -What do you think  that was the best thing you did when you were in the band at that time? K: Doing my best?......what could be? (laughs) Maybe I don't have a feeling of "doing my best", or I don't think I was conscious of "doing my best" for the band. Besides playing the guitar and arranging the songs, I did several things such as miscellaneous work and making flyers but I didn’t do it with the consciousness of "doing my best", I did it anyway. -It was only for fun. K: I think so. It felt like I was making song while playing around, the members also were relaxed. Someone would go home and listen to some CD and say “let’s do something like that”, others would be reading magazines or watching tv next to them. Everyone gathered after work,from 8pm to 11pm, so it was like using that time to be together having fun. -In the series you wrote for “Ongaku to hito”,  you mentioned that you were doing various part-time jobs at this time. K: I was. Sometimes I worked hard/plentifully, and sometimes I only worked for 15 minutes a day -What is a 15-minute job a day? .K: A part-time job that was just going to a pet store when it was closing and put the bird cages or the hamster basket in front of the store, inside the store. The hourly wage was about 1500 yen, but it only took 15 minutes. On the contrary, I also worked part-time for 12 hours. I had a lot of  jobs, I don’t know if I was skilful or I was good at dealing with things but I looked like a competent guy. After a while, my salary went up and my position went up. -Did you want to become a full-time employee?   K: That wasn’t the case. After all, I was doing it while thinking, “I’m in this place now, but I’m a man who won’t end up in a place like this”.  I think I had a strong consciousness like “I’m working in this now for the band”. However, my parents told me every day, “What are you doing?” (laughs). -What did you answer to that? K: “No, it’s ok”. I didn't borrow money from my parents, so I didn't bother them. -Around this time, there was The Great Hanshin Earthquake. I'm sure you were at your part-time job when the earthquake happened. K: That's right. It happened when I was working part-time at a glass factory. It was shaking around, but that always happened when a crane truck passed so I was like “is that it?”. I thought it was different from other times. When I thought about going home, the train stopped, and the ground was also cracked. On the contrary, it was like being in a scene that didn’t seem to be a real.  However, the inside of my house was messed up, but it was okay. The impact of the earthquake affected many places. Many people quit bands because of that. It was just around the time I started playing at a live houses, so I was able to get acquainted not only with the locals but also with a wide range of people, so I thought “this is terrible”. -What was a thing that you could do for the first time with CHARM? K: I think it was a demo tape. I made it for the first time, so I was happy.  A few years ago, I found it at my parent’s home, I brought it here and listened to it….  Surprisingly, the song wasn’t bad. The lyrics were horrible though (laughs). -But CHARM's activities ended in a little over a year. K: Well, weren’t we playing for a year?  I think that maybe there was a difference in the degree of enthusiasm between the other members and me. It was like there was a wall built between me and the other members. They would talk about giving up and I was like “should we?”. However, after disbanding, the other members except me formed a band together, so I was like “Oh, so it was my fault”. Whether the demo tape sold 3000 copies, or the live movements increased, I didn't have money anyway. The more I moved, the less money I had, so I was worried. It was like “Can I do this?”. -What did you do next after the disbandment was decided? K:  I was thinking about going to various live shows and look for members, when I was thinking about doing something like that, KISAKI suddenly called me. He told me “Can you join us as the guitarist is leaving?”. -It was La: Sadie's, a band formed by KISAKI. K: He wasn’t a proper acquaintance, I just greeted him at a live house somewhere so, I should say that he kind of got suddenly in touch with me? -Why was that? K: At that time, there was the word “soft visual kei”. The thing is, there weren’t bands that looked flashy/showy and cool like that. There weren’t many guys that wearing a suit and looking stylish were heavy/ extreme. That’s why, I heard that there weren’t many people who looked flashy like me. -That’s why he had his eyes on you. K: Maybe. I hadn’t seen a live show of them, but there were La:Sadie’s posters on every live house at that time. Also, even though he didn’t see our live performance over there, he just saw the flyer and contacted me (laughs). -So, for now, you went to see them playing live. K: It's the day after (CHARM) disbanded. I didn’t know how they sounded like, but when I watched them performing live, it was the type (of band) I really liked. There was no reason to turn down the offer and in a selfish way I thought “In order to join this band, the previous disband had to happen”.  And I decided to join them. -When it comes to members, you can say that this band was the predecessor band of DIR EN GREY, but what was your impression of them at that time? K: It's still the same, but (my first impression was) they weren’t that good at socializing (laughs). At first it was an exploration. It was like “What should I do when I enter the studio?”. But when I went it, it was like “Eh….is it like this?”. I mean, the song writing was the same as in my previous band but there weren’t many parts to arrange.  If you could make a song to some extent, it would end there. I remember there weren’t many exchanges between us like, “I want to make this rhythm here” or “Let’s take a break”.  It was done exactly what the composer has done in the studio. Well, it wasn’t interesting. -Then, you came up with various ideas. K: That's right. Even at CHARM, I was just arranging rather than writing songs. - After joining under the name of KAORU, the band's recognition has even more. K: About two months after I joined, we first appeared on the monochrome page of "SHOXX". Everyone was happy at that time. Until then, even if the band name was listed in “Pia” and appeared in live house’s information places, it was like "Oh, we appeared in a national magazine!" (Laughs). From there, we advertised ourselves to sell our name, and we did various things. -How was the planning and mobilization (people who came to the concerts) of live performances compared to the previous band? K: When I was invited (to join the band,), it was a band that had already mobilized more than 100 people, so it's completely different. I remember being so excited to be able to play  in front of a lot of people, it was like “This is it!”. I finally got the feeling that I was on the start line. -Did you feel like you could make it as a professional? K: That wasn't the case. After all, no matter if 3000 tapes were sold or the people attending the lives increased, I didn't have the money anyway. Of course, there was some profit, but there was more money being spent. So, my anxiety/insecurity may had been bit.  Like  "Can I do it in these conditions?". -You were still working part-time as usual? K: Of course. Because when I joined, I was like “As we are going on a tour now, how much should I prepare for many days”. There were many talks about money. It was a band only could play  a certain number of lives . I think we played lives about one-third of the year. Even so, I feel hopeless as I didn’t make money working and writing songs. I couldn't afford to think about the future at all. It's the same for the other members, and  I felt like "I wonder if this will end someday." There were many people who said "I might not be able to play for a while”. - By the way, how did you feel as a guitarist at that time? In terms of style and playing. K: It was just like playing with a heavy sound and shaking your head (laughs). The guitar solo….it's about playing a little phrase. I'm not very interested in it now or in the past. -Are you not interested in guitar solo? K: No, I like listening to them. But I don't really want to play them myself…..it’s like, when a solo is being played I don’t feel like “Hey, I want to copy this!”…. More than that, I like when the high-volume sounds get muted (laughs). The feeling is better when I’m playing the riff like *makes the beat sounds* -I'd like to ask you about bands you liked besides X at that time. Around that time, you started listening to NIN INCH NAILS and other overseas bands. K: That's right. I also liked The Smashing Pumpkins and I went to see their live performances. Around that time, I started listening more to foreign bands than Japanese bands. From Japan, I usually listened to LADIES ROOM and Extasy Records bands (Japanese label formed in April 1986 by Yoshiki). -Was COLOR among these bands (You listened to)? K: COLOR is also included. Once around that time, I got invited  by a roadie of a band that was in Free-will but I thought “Free-will is scary” (laughs). I've heard rumours about TOMMY (DYNAMITE TOMMY / COLOR vocalist, founder of Free-will, DIR EN GREY’s label). He is a senpai originally from my hometown. I've never met him there, but I heard a lot about him (laughs). Later, I got to know about COLOR, and I knew that was TOMMY in the band. - And La: Sadie ’s would be over in less than a year. K: That's right. I talked with each member like "What should we do next?" When we realized, it was like the four of us like “Do you want to do a band the four of us together?”. “The feeling of "let's go as far as we can go" Maybe this was the biggest chance we would have. That was the kind of thing I talked with the members. At that moment, we prepared ourselves for the worst.” -Was it like “going with the flow”? K: We weren’t friends like everyone would go drinking together or so, it’s a relationship more like neither too close to nor too distant since that time. There were invitations from other people (bands) to join them, but at that time there wasn’t a band like us, fierce and distant. I think it was a bit like “Let’s do it together” because there wasn’t any other place. There was no other band that I wanted to play music together. From our point of view, there were some questions like “Should the band be more intense/fierce?” and also, that it must be a visually interesting band. - From there, DIR EN GREY started. K: I think we talked about how me wanted to make a band more expansive than La:Sadie’s. But the fierce part was more extreme. Perhaps it was because I was thinking of becoming a band that no one had ever seen, and that made me feel like "we are  definitely doing it!" -Was TOMMY involved since the beginning? K: TOMMY will appear later. But it seems that he has his eyes on us since La:Sadie’s.  At that time, TOMMY was already in charge of bands and took care of them but at that time the chance didn’t come out. But when we were going to disband….. I was told this later but it seems that TOMMY said “I’m going to get a hold of every band that these five people do (laughs)” -By the way, how was your first encounter with TOMMY? K: The person who took care of us at that time said, "TOMMY wants to meet you." "What’s that? Did we do something wrong?" (Laughs).  That’s why I was nervously waiting at TOMMY’s apartment. Speaking of him, I had this image of him wearing a floral coat, a gauze shirt, leather pants  and long boots, and when he came out wearing leather pants and long boots I was like “Wow! It’s true!” (laughs) -That's scary (laughs). K: So when I told him “Thank you so much for inviting me”,  he told me “Keep doing your best”….I was like “Eh?”. I just met him for a while, I didn’t understand at all why did he invite me. He just told me “Take care on your way home”. After that, I came out of Tokyo, and when I started a band here, I already wrote about it in the “Ongaku to hito” series but, it was decided that we recorded immediately. -At a mobile home? K: We made the songs there. We recorded and played lives in Tokyo. Then, we had more and more chances to talk and discuss with TOMMY about the details of the live performances. The next moment, it was decided that we enter  Free-will. -The situation changed since that moment. K: That's right. Under these circumstances I could concentrate on playing in a band and from that time on, producers gradually started to do their part…..Talking about a major debut become something more solid, so we were getting to go  as far as we could. For the next lives, it's was like going up the stairs, step by step. Until then, I was just rushing with the flow, but I started thinking about variations of the songs, the venues for the lives became bigger, so we thought about stage development….. I started to write songs considering the singles, like “let’s make a song like this”. - At that time, did you have any dreams or goals that you all shared as a band? K: (A goal/dream) shared with the members .. .. maybe there wasn’t anything concrete. We were trying our best to keep up with the situation. I personally wanted to make an album. -Something like “We’ll play at Budokan!”? K: I don't think there was. Of course, I thought it would be great if I could play there, but more than that, the members were excited about things like "What about the PV of the next song?" . -You talked about playing a live at Budokan before your debut, but was there anything that you feel couldn’t keep up with because of how fast  things were going? K: I was worried. It was like “Is it ok,can we do this?”, But when DIR started I prepared myself for the worst, it was like “let’s go as far as we can go”. After all, when we were told to come to Tokyo after the band started, I was thinking, “Let’s do this without rushing”. La: Sadie's was just hectic, “Shouldn’t it be better to solidify the base here before going to Tokyo?”, “But maybe this is the biggest chance we are going to have?”, that was what we talked about. “If we don’t go to Tokyo this time, there might not be another chance anymore”. I talked with the members if we should prepare ourselves for any circumstance  and accept it or not. And we decided to do it. -Like, don't miss your biggest chance. K: Yes. Also, at that, we weren’t competing against other bands, as there was almost no relationship or interaction with other bands. There was this feeling that everything that wasn’t us was an enemy. It might feel like “We are not going to lose to any other guys, we are going ahead”. - So, the band made their major debut, but in less than a year you were back indie. How did you feel at this time? K: TOMMY suggested to do what we could do from that moment on. To be honest, at first I couldn’t keep up with that idea. I was like “Why did we come this far?”. -It’s natural to feel like that. K: So TOMMY asked me, "Would you like to do a band where an old man, president of the record company,  tell you to make a song like this?". So when I said “No, I don’t want to do that”, he said “Then, to do what we want to do, let’s protect ourselves”. That’s why while I said “That’s right” I was wondering if we could do this alone. But if we had done it as a major, the band might not have been like it is now. Maybe it would be more commercial, a band that didn’t make songs as a main thing.  That’s why  at that time I was grateful to TOMMY and I don't think he was wrong. - It was  hard to get into the  several hardships  of doing a band from that moment, wasn’t it? K: That's right. It's still the case now, but to tell the truth, I didn’t really have the consciousness of playing music. The feeling of "doing a band" was stronger than the sound. Even if things were hard, it felt like "We are a band". At some point, I wonder if we were chasing a longing/aspiration somewhere. But from that moment on, I think I started thinking, "Let's make a band where we can express ourselves, something that only we can do." -Was the band activity difficult after that? K: It was hard (laughs). From that time on, it was really hard to write songs, I couldn’t make songs anyway.  As I always say, I’m not the type of person that can immediately shape the sound that comes out. I’ll play what I’ve made while thinking “Is this really good?”.  If my guitar skills were better, it might had been possible to shape it in a cool way, but it wasn’t the case. It seems that you can't compete with your own guitar. That’s why I couldn’t intertwined everything, the rhythm, riffs, and melody in a cool way. -In other words, you have to make a song while imagining the whole result. K: But isn’t that the most uncertain part?  Don’t you do it without knowing what each member is going to play? Perhaps, the biggest thing is that I'm not confident in myself. It’s like I came to this point only with heavy work (laughs) - Well then, you've made many albums with that. K: Right? (laughs) But….. I think I can only make it that way. -What was the first album that made you think "I was able to do it!" K: After all…..it's "MACABRE" (released in 2000). I felt like "I made it!" Before this one, "GAUZE" (released in 1999) contained 5 singles, so I had a strong sense of filling the gaps, but "MACABRE" has a strong sense of creating one album. Also, from that point on, not only the songs but also the consciousness of the sounds changed. The sound became very hard. -Have you ever thought about leaving the band? K:…….. Yes. Yes, there are always moments like that. But it’s  not like "let's quit" but more like "want to escape". Even now, I often feel like giving up while writing songs, I feel like "I can't do it anymore". -Still, what keeps you in the band is…. K: It’s a strange way to say it, but it’s like while I’m thinking about that, there is a part of me saying, “Will you do it?”. There is another me. This one always says "Please do your best!" and the other is like "Yes, I'll do it" (laughs). In other words, everything is up to you. Another self inspires the part of  me who is about to give up. It's like that. -What do you think about bands that have disbanded? K: I think it's a waste. It’s like “Why are you quitting?”. I haven't quit, so I don't know how I would feel about quitting.So, if I quit the band, it would really end there. “Let’s do a comeback”, but after all, it’s over. So, no matter how hard I think it is, I don't want to say, "It’s over".  Because it’s like "If you say it's over, it's all over". -Now, I asked you to look back on your half-life as a bandman so far. What about the future? K: That's right.  It’s like…. There are times I think it's not interesting anymore. It’s not interesting so I’m like "I think I can explore more" and things like that, but I get back on the rails before I knew it.  It’s like “If you don’t do it with all your heart, in the end it’s going to be a band that is just active”. The more you continue, the more troubles you will have. Constantly I'm thinking about what if we can’t go ahead, but we also value our own personality, that's why you just can't do the same thing.  -I feel like you are always looking for something. K: I always think about "something more". I get worried because it doesn't come out though. But the fact that the band can still do it, it’s is there. If I think “Well, someday”,  I think I’d be lost. -At this point, the members are making moves with solo activities. K: After all, there are things they can’t do with DIR EN GREY, so I think they are doing it elsewhere. So, when I think about it, in my case, there's nothing I can't do with DIR EN GREY. After all,  even if it is just once, before I die I have to try to make my own album, but what I want to do now can be done with DIR EN GREY. Of course, I also want to know my limits and possibilities, so I'd like to try making a work by myself someday. It's a personal goal. -You could say that this book is the first result of your solo work. K: Yes. It’s a strange way of saying it, but it feels good the first thing I put out by myself was a  book. It’s like really relaxing…..you can do it without putting too much effort.  Of course, this is the first time I've made a book, so I wonder if I should just put what I want to do into it. If this were a about making one album, I would think about various things like "I'm doing this song with DIR, I'm sorry". I don't have that kind of annoyance, and I can do what I want to do within myself. Also,  (expressing myself) in words like this……it's a bit exaggerated to say it in this way, but I think I had a lot of things I wanted to convey in words. I also realized that.

What are some of the biggest moments/clues/hints that bjyx have something going on?

Part 1

Hi, anon! I have three asks from different anons with related questions, and I think it’s something many are curious about, so let’s get into it! I’m going to make this into a three-post series, with the next two answers linked to this one. I think they are all necessary to get the full picture.

Links:

Part 2 here

Part 3 here

It’s gonna get long (and I’m just starting), so sit tight and get a cup of coffee. Nothing to see under the cut unless b/jyxszd.

Disclaimer: everything is fake fake fake, don’t take it seriously.

Wow. Where to start? There are many things in the bxg group that are going to be counted as “moments” (or candies), but here are the ones I believe the most. Of course, other bxg will offer other “hints” but these are all quite acepted in the fandom from my point of view.

Asking for “the biggest” is quite subjected to personal interpretation, since there’s no regulated consensus of which moments are true and which are not. That’s why I can offer what I think it’s widely accepted among bxg and that, of course, I think are “true”.

1) Interviews + bts videos

In almost any interview, since they started filming CQL, be it solo interviews or interviews they both participated in, you’ll be able to find “candies”. These of course, are much more subjected to personal interpretation and your views on their relationship.

To me, the interviews show that they are much closer to each other (even when they were just filming cql!) than they are to other people. They also gave a strong deja vu, but that’s for a following post.

Some of the best moments from their interviews:

In a solo interview (160 minute special, from 30:08-46:37, here with eng subs), in questions completely unrelated to dd, gg brought up dd in his answers at least six times (I think I lost count somewhere in the middle). If you compare them, when gg is asked about dd or prompted to add more details to his answer about dd, he’d end up rambling on and on, whereas in other questions he’s more concise. In his 16-minute interview, more than half the time (questions actually related to dd + questions unrelated to dd) gg is talking about dd.

There are several instances where both, when asked about “the most beautiful/handsome/looks good in costumes” person of the cast, they answered with lightning speed the name of the other.

“Wear kneepads”. The 9 minute boat video is also a treasure. Candies aside, I think it’s quite telling that they can have a conversation about everything and anything without stopping (especially dd, who was known for only talking about his interests). About the “wear kneepads” phrase, I talked in this post about how Chinese people express their love “differently” (love is love). It doesn’t imply romantic love per se, but... gg cares.

In the sina interview (190714, here with eng subs): they lied so much in this interview that even when I was just watching this interview for the first time I thought their answers were strange.

“Is she clingy?”, dd asks. “She’s not, you are”, gg mumbles (but it has been picked up by the mic). Dd’s face goes blank, but then he brokes into a small smile and says “I am...” (here the post with the video).

There’s a moment in an interview however, that belongs to a whole another category that’s the second greatest hint for me:

2) The “you have a bf” moment

For those who don’t know what happened: in an interview from one of their fanmeetings, the interviewer asked about one of gg’s old phrases (”if I enter in a relationship now, I’ll lose my job”). However, he didn’t remember it and both react very strongly to it. Here is a post with an analysis and a link to the video.

3) The informality

This is a pretty tricky one... but once you watch a few videos of gg with dd and gg with other people, it becames apparent very quickly. They’re so comfortable with each other that hitting and swearing (”are you sick/insane?”) is never taken with offense. 

I think there’s an analysis somewhere, about gg and dd hitting each other. Gg hits, but with no real force behind them, and dd either hit him with his long sleeves (when filming) or with great force and speed, but not landing the blows. The few times he actually hit gg by accident, he always apologized profusely, pouring over gg (”where have I hit?”). It left no room to mistake about the good nature of their teasing and hitting.

4) The necklace

There are rivers of ink written about this one. I’ll leave a link to the best analysis I’ve seen here (both the OP and the response make a lot of sense to me).

In summary: mtjj and cp fans started to argue about the origins of the necklace. The company stated that dd had bought the necklace himself (this is the version most of the solo fans believe), but of course cp fans wouldn’t be appeased with such a weak denial, so mtjj started to say that dd should either stop wearing it or explain how he got the necklace.

It’s curious how dd escaped this situation by choosing a third option: he wears it hidden under his clothes. He wears it almost every time he appears anywhere. He even wears it to the sea.

So he can’t explain where the necklace came from, but he won’t stop wearing it either. That, at the very least, points to a romantic gift (from my point of view).

Once you start seeing the necklace, you can’t unsee it. The picture on the left is an older one, when he still wore the necklace openly, but he was still wearing the necklace in a recent photo (yes, both gg and dd has been nominated to the TOP 100 most handsome faces of 2020).

5) The kadian

I was introduced to this concept in tumblr, to be honest. I didn’t pay much attention to it, but when you see a bulk of posts next to each other... there’s a reasonable limit to these kind of things being coincidental.

But then, dd’s post on the 200529, the one about the smile with the colgate ad... that was very much on purpose. And his post on the 200521. Or gg’s posts in recent June: 200605 13:28 and 200612 13:45.

I have an ask about kadian sitting in my inbox, I’ll explain it in more detail in that one.

6) The clothes

Again, I thought at first that this was a coincidence. But then, there’s a limit for coincidences. They have a lot of clothes they either plan to buy the same one in different colours or it’s just the 23rd coincidence that with all of the clothes available in the world, they chose the same one in different colours or just plainly the same. (Here’s a good post with a compilation).

Another fact that convinced me is that many of them are “private” clothes they own, not clothes that stylists choose for them (in which case it’s most likely to be a coincidence, I don’t think they choose the clothes for a photoshoot, for instance). For example, the two sets down below were from photoshoots, so I think they were coincidences.

Going back to clothes they do share, it’s also the fact that gg wouldn’t have access or interest in certain brands and clothes, unless someone with certain interests recommended them to him or got them for him. So coincidental (again) that the only person around him like that is dd.

Or the fact that if one of them is wearing a certain piece the other has worn before (ie the coat), the other one doesn’t appear with it again. Moreover, the coat (left pictures) has been confirmed by the fans to be the same one. They asked the brand about it, and both gg and dd are wearing the same one (since it was discontinued) unless gg bought it 2 years ago and has just decided to wear it (unlikely).

Or the fact that when they appear with the same shirt/trousers, they fit them differently. Trousers are longer on dd, and the line for the shoulders are lower on gg.

Or the fact that sometimes they each wear the upper piece or the trousers of a set respectively (left). Another coincidence, I’m sure.

(Credit of the pictures in the picture).

7) Gg’s songs and his drawings

Gg hides it better, but he still has this kind of gestures. He never fails to remember the lyrics (I don’t know whether you’ve noticed, but at the far back of every stage there’s a gigantic screen displaying the lyrics), but if he does “mix them up” it’s just another coincidence that it can get interpreted as a message for dd.

And last, but not least, we have this drawing:

Gg drew this in a program last year. It’s his “ideal life”. So, let’s see what’s in it:

Gg is the figure on the left, with his cat at his feet.

For someone who doesn’t know how to ride a bike, he included one at the right. Curiously, if you observe the shadow it leaves on the sand, the shadow doesn’t match the bike, resembling a motorbike instead.

So, why is a motorbike in his ideal life? It’s maybe related to the person who approaches from the other end of the beach? Does it look familiar?

He could have drawn a clear, tranquil sea. But instead, there are quite a few waves, which resemble greatly something bxg see written quite often (the last one is the first radical that forms the “bo” character in dd’s name).

So many coincidences in this post.

Word Search

Characters:  Jonathan Sims & Sasha James Word count:  1,172 Spoilers:  None Other Tags:  Nonbinary Sasha, Nonbinary Jon, Agender Jon, Autistic Jon, Autistic Sasha Link on ao3

Summary: 

Despite the unwelcome shift his promotion brought to their interactions, rambling about linguistics with Jon was an easy pastime to fall back on. -- Featuring burgeoning Jon and Sasha friendship, mutual infodumping, and Fun with Gender (or lack thereof).  Set during early season 1; written for the @t4tma event.

Sasha fidgeted with her jewelry.  It wasn’t the usual nervous energy that she rode like an ocean wave while chasing down a lead or digging into a subject that snagged her attention.  No, today, she just felt...off.  Was it the new outfit?  It was a bit dressier than her usual trousers-and-cardigan style, with a full length skirt that she’d finally found to be long enough for her height, and a scarf that she bought for the soft texture alone.  Maybe it was the jewelry…?  But that was the same as she usually wore, and yet each time she passed the mirrors in the break room or washroom that off-balance feeling returned.  Finally, she gave in to the impulse to take off her earrings before snatching a file from her desk and marching towards Jon’s office.  A distraction would help.

“Found that statement you said was missing in the sequence, Jon,” Sasha announced as she opened the door and poked her head in.  (Oh good, he wasn’t recording.  Though she was pretty sure the others were exaggerating how grumpy Jon got when interrupted; he never seemed too bothered when she dropped by out of unannounced boredom.)  “Looks like it’s still missing a page, though—no translation with it.”

Sasha was surprised that Jon’s answering sigh didn’t send papers flying off his desk.  “If it was translated at all.  Nothing about the state of this place would surprise me,” he answered.  Jon took the offered file and peered at it with what was now a too-common scowl, but the sourness radiated exhaustion.

Oh, he was wearing earrings again today.  Small silver hoops not too different from a pair she saw Tim wear sometimes.  I wish I could look like that when I wear earrings.  She stomped on that thought with a short shake of her head.  Where on earth did that come from?    

“Looks like my staples were a good idea,” she pressed on with as much brightness as she could muster.  “At least if we get a translated copy, we can be sure it won’t get separated from the rest.”

The tired scowl melted into a tired smile. “Thank you, Sasha.  That has been a very helpful solution.”

The gratitude in his voice stifled the usual irritation she felt at being called "helpful" by someone she’d seen fidgeting before his first interview with Mr. Bouchard.  How someone who’d been hired during her fourth year here ended up with her dream job...no, she wasn’t in the mood to wallow in that on top of everything.  Instead, she flopped down into the chair across from him.  “Mandarin, looks like.  Don’t we have a sister institute in Beijing?  The Pu Songling Research Centre?  Maybe it’s from their archives.”

Jon hummed.  “We can inquire if they originally lent it to the Institute; I don’t know if they translate to other languages in their collection, but perhaps they could put us in touch with someone who can…?”

“Either that or run it through the ol’ google translate.  My Mandarin is a bit rusty.”  At that Jon laughed, a tight-lipped huff of a thing.  He used to laugh a lot more before his promotion, and she found she missed it.  Sasha grinned before she continued.  “I did try learning some once!  When I was sixteen.  I thought the writing was so nice, and wanted to impress my Gran.  Didn’t last long, though.”  

“I’ve heard it’s remarkably difficult to learn,” he said.  

“Oh, for sure.  Switching to French was easier, though I wasn’t a fan of memorizing word genders for everything.”  Her thoughts skipped ahead a step or two, and she found herself adding, “Did you know that Mandarin only has a single pronoun for all genders?”

Predictably, Jon brightened and sat up in his chair, suddenly looking like someone who’d slept sometime in the past few days.  Despite the unwelcome shift his promotion brought to their interactions, rambling about linguistics with Jon was an easy pastime to fall back on.  “Is that so?”  

“Yup!  I won’t pretend that the rest of the grammar wasn’t brutal, but that almost made me jealous, you know?” Sasha answered, toying with the edge of the cardboard folder.

Jon’s attention was like a physical weight.  “Jealous how?”

“Dunno, I kind of wish English had something similar, you know?  Instead of needing words that say right out ‘I’m a woman’ or ‘I’m a man!’”  She kept her voice light, but shifted in the stiff-backed chair.  Sasha hadn’t expected the sudden discomfort, but saying the words aloud felt suddenly vulnerable, like pressing a finger just beside an old bruise—just enough to ache.

The Encyclopedia Look immediately fell over Jon’s face (apparently, according to Tim, Sasha had one too; she wondered if it was as obvious as his).  “You know, even in English some people use singular ‘they’ for their pronouns.  It’s been used as a singular gender-neutral pronoun for hundreds of years; examples easily date back to the fourteenth century.  Did you know that ‘you’ used to be plural as well?”

“I did know that!  And formal, too—it’s funny to think how ‘thee’ and ‘thou’ were the informal means of address.”  Sasha forced down the urge to continue the thought; English shedding the formality divisions in its grammar was a subject she could talk about for hours, but she was curious where this was going.  “Still, I had my papers marked up with enough use ‘he or she,’ not ‘they’! back in secondary to know I can’t get away with it now.”

“That’s changing,” said Jon with a sudden fervor.  “And besides, people aren’t research papers.”

Sasha hesitated, that off-balance feeling suddenly returning.  It wasn’t discomfort this time, but why did it suddenly feel so personal?

Jon seemed to notice her faltering.  “O-of course, it’s not the only way to depart from the binary,” he rushed on.  “I mean, I still use 'he/him' because those are comfortable for me, and—“  He froze, eyes flicking towards the wall before he picked up the statement and held it in front of him like a shield.  “A-anyway, ah...yes.  If someone asked me, I’d have no issue using ‘they’ for someone who asked me.  Regardless of what the Chicago Manual of Style has to say about it.”

It didn’t seem to be a pointed comment (except a grudge against the style guide), but Sasha felt the sudden conviction it was meant for her, even if Jon didn’t mean it for her.  Sasha felt the familiar bite of curiosity that she knew wouldn’t let go, but for once she wasn’t sure if it was directed outwards or inwards.  But Jon looked a bit flustered, still feigning interest in the unreadable document in his hands, and it was getting near the time that she agreed to meet Tim for lunch.  “Good to know,” she answered easily, then tapped the top of the statement. “I’d best get back to work—let me know if you hear back from the Research Centre.”

She had some thinking to do.

------

Thank you to the Magnus Writers discord for answering the absurd amount of questions and fact-checking I somehow needed for a 1k word fic, to evanescentjasmine and Ixempt for the beta reads, and to TheDeafProphet for inspiring the concept! Also an extra shout-out to the Magnus Writers mod team for being my own Linguistics Mutual Infodumping Squad. 

Omega Mine

TITLE: Omega Mine

CHAPTER NO./ONE SHOT: 1/?

AUTHOR: nekoamamori

ORIGINAL IMAGINE: Loosely based on: Imagine Loki discovers the Avengers have an omega who has healing powers living with them. He’s an Alpha and he wants her, badly. 

RATING: M (eventually ) 

NOTES/WARNINGS:  Also on AO3 click here

“Nope, nope, fuck no.  Why do all these companies suck?” You grumbled to yourself as you scrolled through job posting after job posting on your laptop.  You were sitting on your bed absently eating a slice of pizza in your pajamas while you searched.   You were hunting through the job listings looking for a company in search of an Omega.  

That wasn’t at all atypical. Businesses that employed a lot of Alphas needed Omegas on staff to help keep the balance and the peace.  Betas could only do so much against volatile Alpha tempers.  

It wasn’t that you didn’t like your current job, but it just wasn’t the right fit.  You’d worked at a few different companies since you’d graduated from college.  The companies were all glad to have you around, but none of them had felt like the right fit.  That was also typical.  It took a few tries to find Alphas who really fit and felt like safety and home.  It took longer to find such Alphas in an environment where you could use your degree or your magic, or something that made you more than just a typical Omega.  

It could take forever or absolutely no time at all to find the Alpha.  The one who was your mate and meant to be your love.  

You hadn’t had any luck finding your Alpha yet, just as you hadn’t found the right company to work for.  You’d temped a couple places as an admin, even though it wasn’t anything to do with your degree.  You were now working again as an assistant and getting pretty tired of all omega jobs only being assistants or menial labor.  There was nothing of substance.  That made sense.  Usually, Omegas couldn’t hold higher level positions.  Alphas ruled and Omegas were cared for, by nature and by nurture.  On the other hand, Omegas were the balance for an Alpha’s temper.  They cared for the heart of the people, while the Alphas cared for the physical safety.

Any of the castes could marry any of the others and Omegas finally had some rights in the US, but the world was still highly unfair toward your caste.  Omegas couldn’t own a house, for instance, or rent an apartment in your name.  You could earn money and have a bank account of your own, thanks to the laws that had passed, but a lot of the world was still stuck in the old ways of thinking Omegas nothing more than pets.  Or glorified sex slaves.  Thankfully, things were changing slowly, but surely.

You lived in an Omega-house with other unclaimed Omega girls and walked every day to the office nearby where you worked.  There was a Beta who acted as house mother as it was determined that Omegas couldn’t be trusted to care for themselves, so you weren’t allowed to live on your own.   Despite that you were a college grad with a job. 

It was either the Omega-house or still living with your Father.  And that wasn’t an option.  Not after you’d finally escaped to go to college at one of the universities that had accepted Omega students.  

There was a knock on your door.  You weren’t expecting anyone, but that didn’t mean one of the other Omega girls didn’t want to come visit, or the Beta coming to check on you.  “Coming!” You called and set your piece of pizza back on the plate, wiping your hands quickly as you got to your feet.  You padded silently over to the door, your steps light, despite the interruption.  You opened the door to see the Beta on the other side.  Your new house mother.  “Hello, Beta Ann,” you greeted her politely.  She was new and stuffy and still old-school enough that she wanted to be addressed by her title every time anyone spoke to her.  

She gave you a warm matronly smile.  It was a bit condescending.  “Hello, dear,” she always spoke down to the Omegas, as if you couldn’t understand what she was saying.  “I received your message that you wish to look for a new position?” She made it a question.  It was her job to help you find something.  Sometimes she could have better connections than the websites that the Omegas could access.

You nodded eagerly.  “Yes, ma’am,” you replied politely.  She really was stuffy and old schooled, but if she could help you… you’d be polite. “It isn’t that I dislike my position.  It’s just… not the right fit,” you explained quickly, hoping she would understand.  

She nodded sympathetically and looked over the clipboard she was carrying. “You’ve been in that position six months, I see.  Yes, that’s plenty of time to realize it’s not the right fit,” she agreed.  She looked up at you again.  “I was actually going to speak with you regardless.  A position crossed my desk that I thought you would be a good fit for, given your abilities,”

You perked up at that.  A position for your abilities?  Your skills?  Not just because you were an Omega?  “Really? What position?” You asked eagerly. You tried not to appear too eager.  That would be impolite.  It was a tentative balance.  

“There is a group who is looking for an Omega.  It’s a live-in position.  All room and board is covered on top of a generous salary.  They are specifically looking for someone with medical background and your healing abilities are very appealing to them,”

Medical background and healing?  

And a proper home?

It sounded absolutely perfect.  

“I’m definitely interested, ma’am,” you told her brightly. 

She nodded her agreement.  “Very good, dear.  I’ll let them know and set up the interview for you.  I’m sure it will just be a formality,”

Most Omega interviews were.  The Alphas in charge didn’t need to interview, not really.  They just needed to catch your scent or psychic scent and determine if you would fit in with their tempers and soothe their needs.  

“Thank you, ma’am,” you told her politely.  She gave you another condescending smile before she left you to set things up.

*

A few days later, you found yourself in front of your mirror adjusting your suit’s jacket for the billionth time before your interview.  The suit looked good on you, and professional.  Though you still knew that you had that Omega air about you. An Alpha or Beta could identify you on scent, on sight, even without the collar around your neck.

All Omegas were required to wear a collar once they presented as an Omega.  Puppies (children) presented their secondary gender, their caste, officially toward the end of puberty, usually around 16 or 17 years old.  There were usually signs before that of what a puppy would be when they matured and you’d heard that there was a test that puppies could take now to determine what they would present as.  

The collar you wore was the generic collar every Omega wore until they were claimed by an Alpha.  It was silver and plain, thin, not heavy at all, but you would never forget it was there, not since the day it had been locked on.  Only an Alpha could remove it.  And only your Alpha would, when you were claimed and mated, only to put his or her own collar on in its place. It was still a holdover from the old laws.  You’d never gotten a good answer as to why.  You always got some bullshit reason about knowing who to protect.  Omegas were more rare than Alphas or Betas, so you weren’t surprised the law hadn’t changed.

There was nothing you could do about it.  And it wasn’t ugly.  But it did single you out as an unclaimed Omega.  Especially at your age.  There was no specific age to find your Alpha, but most Omegas you knew your own age were already claimed.   

You knew it made you a target.  You could be claimed against your will, mated against you will, if you didn’t already have an Alpha.  That didn’t mean you were going to settle.

That was also why the company was sending a car to pick you up for your interview.  Beta Ann had said that a Beta security guard from the company to escort you safely to and from the interview.  

You made sure you had your phone in your purse as well as your resume before you headed out of the house.  You said goodbye to Beta Ann and only left once the Beta security guard, a many named Happy of all things, rang the bell to collect you.  

Your eyes widened when you saw the limo that was waiting to take you to the interview.  What the hell kind of company was this?  The information hadn’t been passed along to you. You didn’t know of Beta Ann knew or not.  She didn’t deem it important enough information to tell you if she did know.  

Happy opened the limo’s door for you and you thanked him softly and politely as you took the seat inside.  He gave you the warm smile everyone gave Omegas.  They couldn’t help it.  Your presence was soothing to everyone.  He shut the door behind you and got in the driver’s seat.  Soon you were driving through the city, toward the city center.  You watched out the window with interest, curious as to where this company could be.  What this company could be.

You didn’t know what you were expecting.  

Whatever it was, it wasn’t your limo stopping at the VIP parking in front of the Avengers’ tower.  It wasn’t the press that were staked out to catch pictures of the superheroes and anyone who came to visit the tower.  It wasn’t Happy parking in that VIP section and coming around to open your door again for you.

The Avengers.

You were interviewing for the Avengers.

You couldn’t believe your luck.  This really was the perfect opportunity. 

You understood immediately that this was a test.  

An Omega who couldn’t handle the press, couldn’t handle the surprise of showing up at the tower, who broke down at any little uncertainty or surprise, wasn’t an Omega that would work out for the team and wouldn’t be what they needed.

Desperately in your soul, you knew that this was what you needed and you vowed to do anything in your power to make sure you got this job.