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littlemisslipbalm · 4 years

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“Harry’s stylist, right?”

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

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

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

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

part 2

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

One week later

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

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

“H?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Ow!”

“Oh my god!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What’s wrong?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Seriously, H?”

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

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

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

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

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

“Can’t it be both?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I like it…”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You’re Harry’s stylist, right?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Just a little for my taste.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Thank you.”

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

“Y/N, right!?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Heard you were talkin’ shit?”

Mitch quips, “Us? Never.”

Harry scoffs, “Come off it!”

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

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

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

“I wasn’t!”

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

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

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

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

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

“You did an amazing job,” Y/N said.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What happened to not drinking tonight?”

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

“So, Harry, care to explain?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“And on the face?”

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

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

“Lipstick?”

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

“It was only from-”

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

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

“I’m sorry?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I told you already. It’s fine.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

What are you wearing??

That cannot be Harry’s jacket Y/N

Seriously?

Please call me.

CALL ME. NOW.

- All from Jeff.

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

part 2

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 3 years

Text

Desperate Measures 1

Warnings: nonconsent and rape (miniseries); stalking, fear, intimidation.

This is dark!Steve Rogers and explicit. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: At first, you think it’s a joke when you get the strange messages, but when they don’t stop, you realise too late how real it all is.

Note: This was going to be a one shot but it kept going and going and going, so it’s gonna be split in 2.

Thank you. Love you guys!

Please leave some feedback, like and reblog <3

Have a piece of American dream Open up, and swallow, on your knees And say Thank you I'd like some desperate measures, please

💌

The first picture was sent on Monday. You remembered it clearly unlike most Monday mornings. It was the same boring ritual; a coffee that had long turned cold, a pen that wouldn’t write, and a computer that ran as if on dial-up.

The only bright side was that your small desk was near a window and you could look out onto the city streets, though they were hardly less miserable than your own existence. You were so high up the people were merely moving specks. You often found yourself distracted by the crowded traffic below.

You were drawn from such a distant reverie by the buzz of your phone. You kept it face down by your monitor. Despite the temptation, you limited yourself to succumbing only once an hour. You sat back and your chair creaked as it tilted beneath you. You checked the time in the corner of your screen and reached for your cell, the rubber case scuffed and scratched at the edges.

Notifications for the same emails that sat open in front of you and a few personal ones in the next bubble. Another for the game you played on the subway or when you were overly listless, several updates for your hoarded apps, and a single text.

There was no number attached to the message, only the foreboding thick font that read ‘unknown number’. You chewed on your thumb as you leaned forward on your elbow and swiped your screen up and punched in your password. The screen flashed and you hit the last notification. No words, just a file. You hit download.

You blinked as it ate your data and the image of your apartment door appeared. You glanced around and laughed to yourself. You shook your head and keyed in your response; ‘very funny, Eva.’ You hit send and set your phone back down.

Your old friend liked her jokes and you hadn’t missed her little ploy the last time she showed up at your place angry over her latest fling. You had thought she was getting a picture of the stain on the hallway carpet that looked suspiciously like blood… or feces… or a mixture of the two.

You went back to your work and switched the document you’d been picking at for most of the morning. Your job was as entertaining as watching paint dry then peel from age. When you applied for an editing position, you’d expected thrillers and melodramas. Instead, you got dry textbooks and educational guides.

You yawned and pushed through to your scheduled break. You dumped your cold coffee and headed down to the café to grab another. The coffee they kept in the office was cheap and bland. You ate your salad in the lunchroom as you watched the clock tick away. You checked your phone. No reply to that unusual text. Eva must’ve chickened out.

You scoffed and switched chats to send her usual number an ‘lol’. You tucked your phone in your pocket and punched back in before you headed back to your desk. A couple more hours and you’d be home to stew in the early week daze.

The last half of the day went quicker and your subway ride was uneventful; well, for New York. You walked home from your stop and pulled out your phone as you climbed the stairs. You slowed down and moved your feet blindly. You’d finally gotten an answer. ‘Eva?’

You opened the chat again and hit the image. It filled the screen and you squinted as you came to a stop. The stain wasn’t there. Your landlord had finally relented and had the entire hallway torn up and replaced with an even duller shade of grey. The picture had been taken since then; within the last month. The last time you’d seen Eva, you’d gone to hers.

Your chest clenched and you gulped. You hit the little icon in the corner of the conversation and hit ‘block’. You continued to your floor and neared your door. You looked down the hallway and back to your door. You tried the handle. Locked. You took a breath.

It could still be a joke. The stoner next door, Perry, had your number from when you agreed to feed his cat that one time. Maybe he was high or just trying to be funny. Still, it hadn’t come up under his name. Well, he might have changed his number since then.

You unlocked your door and scurried inside. You made sure to turn the latch and slide the chain into place. You tossed your bag beside the mat of shoes and added your flats to the pile. You dropped your phone on the coffee table and untucked your work shirt as you walked around the small living room.

Nothing was out of place, not that you truly believed whoever it was had gotten past your door. You rubbed your forehead and went to the small kitchen that looked out into the living room. You grabbed a can of sparkling lime whatever and plopped it next to your phone.

You went to your bedroom and stripped yourself of your stiff work clothes and pulled on the night shirt crumpled atop your blanket. You looked down at the thin grey cotton and reached under to unhook your bra. You flung it in the corner knowing you’d be cursing yourself when you couldn’t find it the next morning.

You flopped onto the couch and grabbed your remote. You turned on some mindless Youtube video and opened the mobile game which had taken too much of your life from you. You connected three and four and five and somewhere in between your existentialism kicked in and had you wondering at the point of it.

You closed the app before it ate all of your battery and your phone shook in your hand.

‘You didn’t tell me who Eva is.’ The message flashed over the top of the screen then disappeared. You pulled down the notification and hit it. You were certain you’d blocked the number. The other messages were gone though and ‘unknown number’ was still emblazoned across the top. You blocked the convo again and dimmed the screen.

You plugged in your phone and sprawled out across the sofa. You stared at the television, a blur and a buzz to your frantic mind.

It was dark already when you dragged yourself off the couch and heated up a microwave dinner. You ate it without tasting and your phone chimed to signal a full charge. You left it as it was on the arm of the couch and resumed your repose on the sofa. You fell asleep to the angered commentary of a gamer trying to fight a clam.

You awoke with a start. You blinked through your daze as your television showed stills of mountain and grassy fields. You sat up and grabbed your phone. You checked the time; midnight. Another message.

‘She’s the one you had coffee with last week.’ It said.

You gaped and dropped your phone. You looked around as if whoever it was would be hiding in the corner. You shook as you reached down and took the phone. You swallowed and began to type.

‘Whoever this is, this isn’t funny anymore. Cut it out.’

‘Funny?’ The response came quickly.

‘I mean it. Stop.’

‘Good night, sweetheart.’

You recoiled at the message and bit your lip to keep it from trembling. You checked your door again, the chain still in place, checked every inch of your apartment in your paranoia. Nothing. You let out a breath and took a blanket from your bed and huddled up on the couch. You turned on a playlist, not sure you’d be sleeping much that night.

💌

You weren’t sure when you fell asleep again but you rose before your alarm. You drank your coffee as the sky turned a duller shade of grey. You went through your usual morning dance and headed out the door with a bagel hanging from your mouth. You chowed down on your way to the subway. You felt your bag buzz as you stepped on the train.

You ignored it and clung to the bar as you counted the stops. You got off and stopped by the coffee shop. You ordered a black tea and headed down to your building. Your desk was as it was when you left it. The chair was tucked in and your mouse was hidden behind the keyboard. You sat and booted the laggy machine.

As you waited for it to start, you stirred around in your bag for your phone. You had another message. You dreaded opening it but the circle just kept spinning in the middle of the monitor. You hit the bubble and your phone unlocked.

You took a sharp breath as the image glared back at you. It was you, on the subway, that morning judging by the jacket, staring at the door as the photo was taken unknowingly. Your phone slipped from your grasp and you spun in your chair.

Everything was as it should be. Your co-workers looked just as dead inside as you. Your boss was boxed up in his office on a ‘conference call’. You shuddered and turned back to your desk. You burned your tongue on your tea and signed into your computer. Your phone vibrated beside your shoe and you bent to retrieve it.

‘You looked tired this morning’. The next message blipped on the screen.

You were quick to sweep the clock upward and type. ‘Who the fuck is this?’

‘Sweetheart. I don’t like that kind of language.’ The response was quick and sharp, even in text.

‘Tell me who you are? Why are you doing this?’

‘One thing at a time.’ The letters burned into your vision.

‘Who are you?’ You keyed in again. No answer.

You set the phone down and watched it. Five minutes, no buzz. You hovered your hand over your mouse and tried to focus on your monitor. Your heart was so loud in your ears, your head began to pound.

💌

When you got on the subway at the end of the day, you looked around frantically as you settled into a seat, your bag hugged to your chest. You glanced up and down the car a dozen times over as you awaited your cue. Your toe tapped anxiously and you stood so fast you were dizzy when your stop came up.

You rushed down the sidewalk, peeking over your shoulder every other step. You didn’t say anything unusual; no one following you, no one watching. You ran up to your building and unlocked the door clumsily.

You hurried up the stairs and down the hall to your apartment. The key slid in roughly and you turned it so quick, you were certain it would bend. You skirted inside and put the chain in place.

You looked down as your thin-soled boot brushed over something. A pile of flyers slipped through the slot in your absence. You picked them up and sorted through them, an envelope amidst the mess. On its face, it read ‘for my sweetheart’.

You hovered by the door, staring at the envelope. After a moment, you slung your bag down on the floor and placed the flyers on the end table by the lamp. You clicked on the light and ran your thumb along the lip. You carefully opened it and pulled out the paper inside. You unfolded it and your breath caught in your chest.

It was a sketch, quite well done, of you. You’d worn that sweater last week. You went to the park and walked around, sat by the fountain, tossed rocks into the babbling basin. They had been there, whoever it was. How long had they been watching?

And they had been at your door, close enough to slip this through the slot. You folded the drawing and shoved it back in the envelope. You stomped into the kitchen and tossed it into the bin beneath the counter. You backed up and gripped the other counter behind you. You felt a lump in your throat.

What the fuck was going on?

💌

You started going in early to work; catching the train half an hour before your usual one. You left late and changed your route between the station and your building. You entered through the back, hopping the low concrete barrier between the apartments and the backlot.

Still, it only gave you a single day of peace. No messages, no pictures; and you thought the game was over. You hoped it was. That it was just a sick joke that had finally grown tiring.

But Thursday saw another image of you just outside your work building. Friday, another of you on the subway.

The weekend was listless. You did your shopping quickly and on Sunday, you wore a loose hoodie to the laundromat. You could find nothing peculiar around you. The city was full of sketchy people but none seemed to be watching you. The hordes were still about their own lives; ignorant of those around them. You felt entirely alone, as if you were being hunted.

Monday was much the same as the last but how could it ever be dull again. You shut your phone off so you could focus on your work. When you were finally done, you dialed the toll-free number for your provider. You took a taxi home and spent two hours on the line but you got your new number and a sense of relief.

You kept your phone on, ringer on max, and nothing. You watched the screen rather than the television but it only lit up with emails and a random text from your mother. You slept in your bed that night,almost soundly.

You still kept your eye over your shoulder. Still searched out any sign of unusual interest. Perhaps you were clueless or maybe your lack of response had finally gotten through to them. Once their messages bounced back as out of service, they might have given up. They got their laughs, now you wanted peace.

It lasted until Friday.

A full week and you were certain it was over. You finished work and stopped by the liquor store for a bottle of wine on your way home. You could finally let loose. Life had gone back to its usual tedium. You browsed the reds lazily but pondered a pack of coolers instead. Your phone buzzed. You slid it from your pocket out of habit.

‘That cabernet on the top shelf is on sale. Just to your left.’ You stared at the message and backed away from the shelf. You looked around but all the other customers seemed intent on their own purchases. You gulped and blocked the unknown sender.

You left emptied-handed and ran for the train. You got home an hour later than usual. You raced up the stairs and stopped dead in front of your door. The tall gift bag looked familiar; it had been hanging in the store by the till. You neared and peered inside. The golden cap of the wine that had stood in front of you; top shelf.

You bent and flipped the little card attached to the string.

‘For you, sweetheart. Enjoy your weekend.’

You stood and grabbed the bag. You glanced up and down the halls and stormed back down the grey carpet. Your feet hammered down the stairs and you burst through the back doors. You threw the bag into the dumpster and heard the shatter. Your lip trembled as you spun and sprinted back inside.

When you reached your apartment, you called Eva. You struggled to open your dresser with one hand and started pulling out clothes and stuffing them into your neon duffle. She finally picked up.

“E-eva,” you stuttered, “can I-- Can I stay with you, please? J-just a night or two--”

“Wohoa, whoa, slow down,” she said. “What’s going on?”

“I can’t… I can’t tell you now. I’m just-- I’m freaking out and I can’t stay here.” Your voice cracked and you sniffed back tears, “I-- Please. I’m so sorry.”

“Yeah, it’s fine. I… I have plans but I can cancel,” she offered.

“No, no, I… don’t--”

“You’ll have the apartment to yourself,” she said, “I’ll just let Ray know I’ll be late.”

“What time are you supposed to--”

“Seven but it’s fine,” she assured you. “You okay?”

“I… Wait, you’re fucking around with Ray again?”

“Do you want the couch or not?” She half-kidded, “you want me to meet you there or--”

“No, no,” you whisked into your washroom and grabbed your toothbrush, “I’m coming right now.” You returned to the bedroom and shoved an armful in the bag. “Eva… thank you.”

“Stay on the phone,” she said softly. “Please… you’re scaring me.”

“Okay,” you zipped up the duffle, “yeah, I’ll stay on.”

💌

You hung up as you came up to Eva’s building. She met you at the door, a thick silence between you as you sensed what she wanted to ask you. You weren’t sure how to tell you. You weren’t sure if you could.

You pushed the door closed behind you as you entered her apartment. It was cuter than yours, a spiral staircase led to a loft above and the curtains were lace and matched the dainty pillows on the couch. You placed your bag on the floor and she turned to you.

“Just give me a moment,” you said. She didn’t need to ask.

She went to the desk in the corner of the spacious room and turned on the ring light of the round mirror. She fished through her make-up box and pulled out her eyeliner. She was already done her base and highlight. You neared and hovered just beside her desk.

“I don’t even know…” you stopped yourself and went to your bag. You pulled out the paper you’d shoved in the side pocket on your way out. “Look.”

You crossed to her again and unfolded the sketch on her desk. She glanced down from drawing a wing along her eye and lowered the pencil. She blinked and shrugged.

“Look, someone dropped this through my mail slot. No address on the envelope, just this.” You felt crazy. “And I thought it was all some joke. They were sending me pictures, of me, of my building… I blocked them but they just kept on. I even changed my number.”

She scrunched her lips and looked back to her mirror. She finished her other eye and set the pencil down.

“You call the police?” She asked calmly.

“I… the drawing is all I have. I just deleted the messages when they came because… well, I didn’t think much of it at first. Not until… There was a bottle of wine waiting for me when I came home. The very same I was looking at right before I booked it for my train,” you rubbed your cheek, “Eva, I’m not crazy. I swear.”

“I believe you,” she said, “why wouldn’t I but… there’s nothing you can do but keep a log of what happens from here on out. Screencap everything.”

“You think… you think the police would help if I did?” You asked.

“Not much. Stalking isn’t really something they take seriously. I knew this girl in college-- Well, the evidence can at least get you a restraining order… if you ever figure out who’s sending you all this,” she paused and glanced down at the drawing. “Whoever it is, they got talent.”

“I’m sure they’d be happy to hear that,” you scoffed and crossed your arms.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to stay here with you?”

You pondered her offer but shook your head.

“As much as I think you should send Ray along, no. I can’t ask any more of you.” You sighed and grabbed the sketch. You dragged your feet to the couch and flopped down on the cushions, “I really do appreciate it.”

“I always told you to get out of that neighbourhood,” she said as she searched her assortment of make-up, “but you know I never mind you hanging out.”

💌

You spent the night on Eva’s couch, alone. She didn’t get home until three in the morning and you waited until noon for her to wake up. When she did, her face was smeared with eyeliner and her hair a mess.

You hadn’t touched your phone since the night before. You chewed your thumb as you waited for her to emerge from the shower, restless and unsure what to do with yourself. She slammed the lid down on her coffee machine and growled as she turned and crossed her arms.

“Are you okay?” she asked sharply.

“I’m sorry,” you said as you stopped pacing. You barely remembered getting up to walk circles around the coffee table, “I just don’t know what to do.”

“Well, how about a latte?” she yawned behind her hand, “my coffee machine is fucked… again.”

“Um, maybe that’s best, get out and… distract myself,” you twiddled your fingers as your stomach ached. You hadn’t eaten anything since the day before and that was just after noon.

“We’ll get lunch,” she rubbed her forehead, “soak up the wine.”

You shook your head and said nothing. She always drank too much around Ray but you didn’t have the energy for that argument again. So you stayed quiet and watched her disappear into her bedroom.

She emerged as you zipped up your purse. You didn’t bother with your phone as you waited by the door but felt listless without the device. It was like a shield you used when you went out in the world. It kept you from eye contact or awkward conversation.

You set off and headed down the street to the pub that seamlessly shifted from brunch to ladies’ night every Saturday. You ordered breakfast tacos as you sat just inside the large floor length windows that looked out onto the shady patio. The other guest lent a sense of normalcy as they carried on their own conversations and reminded you that you were just another ant on the hill.

As you got your latte in the stemmed glass, Eva pulled out her phone and scowled at the shaking. She was so wrapped up in her texts with Ray she hadn’t even mentioned the reason for your overnighter. You were happy for it and yet, you couldn’t think of anything else.

“Jesus, I told him we were having breakfast and he’s blowing up my phone,” she huffed, “just a second.”

“Eve,” you said as she stood and slid her thumb across the screen, “our foods gonna be here--”

“I won’t be long,” she promised and lifted the speaker to her ear and turned away, “Ray, I’ll be over later, promise. I barely slept--”

Her voice trailed away as she wove between tables and pushed out onto the patio and went to the short fence to chat beyond the ears of diners. You sipped from your drink and stared down at the splintered curve of the table. You couldn’t stay with Eva forever and she was hardly any comfort in her distraction with her on-again, off-again dirt bag. Maybe, if you moved--

“There you are, sweetheart,” the low voice startled you and you sat stalk straight as a figure smoothly slid into Eva’s empty chair, “you gave me quite a scare, up and leaving without a word…”

You stared wide-eyed at the stranger across from you. Well, you knew who he was. Everyone in the city, in the country, even the world, knew Steve Rogers. He smiled at you as his blue eyes glimmered. His posture was cool and confident and it was you who felt out of place.

And you knew, it was him. The shock was not enough to fuel your denial as that feeling deep down assured you of it. That little voice that told you this was your tormentor and that you were fucked.

“I…” you breathed and blinked. You couldn’t find the words, you hardly understood the storm of emotions flowing through you. You glanced through the window as Eva threw her hand up and continued berating her phone, “it’s you?”

“I hate that it has to be this way,” he said, “you know, my work keeps me out of town so much and I just wish we had more time.”

“Wha…” you gulped and gripped the edge of the table, “why--?”

“You haven’t been answering me,” his smile fell, “I don’t like being ignored.”

Your hand shook and you kept it in your lap to hide the rising terror along your spine. You sat paralysed as he sighed and glanced around the restaurant. He tilted his head and pushed his shoulders back.

“You threw out my gift,” he said evenly, “that wasn’t very nice.”

“Go…” you uttered, “go, please--”

“Sweetheart, we’re just talking,” he took a gulp of Eva’s Americano casually, “I missed you… I miss you every day and it hurts that we have to be apart.”

Your shoulders slumped and you clutched your hands in fists on your lap. You could scream but what good would that do. He was Captain America, the first avenger, a hero.

As if your thoughts sent a banner waving, a young kid approached the table and smiled nervously as he held one of the colouring pages supplied by the restaurant in his hands.

“Um, Captain, uh, America,” the kid stuttered, “will you sign-- Will you sign my--?”

The kid smiled through tight lips and held up the colouring page. Instead, Steve chuckled and took his cap from his head and fished around in his pocket. He pulled out a sharpie and signed the brim and placed it back on the kid’s head.

“There you go,” he said.

“Thank you, Cap!” the kid almost squealed, “oh my gosh!”

“No problem,” Steve laughed and watched the kid run back to the table where his mother sat, she waved at the man across from you and mouthed a thanks. He cleared his throat and stood as he tucked away the marker, “sorry, this is why I didn’t wanna do this in public,” he gripped his hip with one hand, “but… we’ll have our time.” He slowly backed away, “I’ll text you. You’ll answer.”

He grinned one last time and strode away. He stopped before the door as he held it open for Eva and she batted her lashes at him as she gushed. You could guess at her star struck words but couldn’t make them out. He left as she finally stopped her babbling and she almost skipped over to you.

“Oh my god, did you see him?” she trilled, “I didn’t think he’d be even better looking in-person.”

“See who?” you asked dumbly as you tried to disguise your discomfort in your latte.

“Steve Rogers,” she announced, “ugh, even without your phone, you got your head in the ground.”

#steve rogers #dark steve rogers #dark!steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #fic #dark fic #dark!fic #miniseries #series #two parts #desperate measures #mcu #marvel #captain america #avengers

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luci-in-trenchcoats · 3 years

Text

Unspoken

Summary: Dean is cursed with the inability to speak unless a cure can be found. It begins to wear on him in more ways than one...

Pairing: Dean x reader

Word Count: 1,800ish

Warnings: language

“Stay down,” said Dean, aiming his gun at the witch.

“Why don’t you shut up,” she said, throwing something at Dean. You both shot and she was dead like that but Dean had a hand on his throat, turning to you with a bit of panic in his eyes.

“Dean!” you said, expecting him to start gasping that he couldn’t breathe but it never came. Dean only continued to claw at his throat, opening his mouth and staring at you. “What’d she do?”

You watched him move his lips and even his tongue but not a whisper came out, no sound at all. He looked like he was trying to shout but there was nothing, Dean spinning around.

“You can’t talk?” you asked, Dean nodding as he found a piece of paper and a pen, jotting something down quick.

Can breathe. No talking though. Find spellbook.

“Alright. You look down here. I’ll take upstairs.”

About an hour later, Dean was poking his head in a room, tossing a notebook at you before walking away.

Found it. Doesn’t mention anything. I dealt with the witch. I grabbed the book so let’s go home. Maybe Sam can figure it out.

“Well, I’m sure this will be an enjoyable drive home.”

“Wait. So you can’t talk?” said Sam. Dean rolled his eyes and rested his head on his hands. “Really?”

“Yes, Sam. He’s cursed or under a spell. Help me figure this out, alright?” you said. Sam held up his hands, chuckling a little. “Sam.”

“Hey, compared to the usual crap that happens to us, at least this isn’t so bad, right? It’s not trying to kill him at least,” said Sam.

Dean sighed but gave a half-hearted smile and nodded. He waved and you followed after to the library, each one of you heading off to do your own research.

Hopefully you could find a cure soon.

Four Months Later

Sam was off on another random lead that probably wouldn’t pan out. You’d managed to find a nice and easy ghost hunt but you couldn’t even drag Dean along with you. That was your rule. It was too dangerous to bring him along when he couldn’t talk. It was strange how everything around him seemed to mute. Plates didn’t make noise when they stacked together. Chairs didn’t scrape along the floor. The shower was silent whenever he took one.

He was like a ghost. Except those made sound on occasion.

“Dean. Let’s get out of the bunker, go do something fun,” you said, poking your head in your room. Dean was nowhere to be found. You checked the garage next, Baby still parked in there, no sign of him. “Dean! Where are you?”

You hoped that didn’t make him mad. He’d been having a bad week. Worse than normal which was saying something. You knew he was reaching his breaking point even if he kept it to himself.

“Dean,” you said again, wandering to your old bedroom, finding him sat on top of the bed, staring at you when you walked in. “Baby. What-”

He tossed his little whiteboard across the room and you took a seat beside him, Dean turning his head away.

“I love you,” you said, wrapping your arms around him, giving him a kiss. “I know this is hard and I miss talking to you. So let’s talk, okay?”

He tilted his head and moved to stand but you kept him in place.

“Maybe the conversation is going to be a bit one sided but we can still talk, can’t we?” you asked. He nodded, looking over to where he’d thrown his whiteboard. He went to grab it but you shook your head.

“What?” he mouthed. You pressed your lips to his, gently laying the two of you back. He blinked when you moved away, eyes watching your hand slide up into his hair. Your fingers ran through his stands, green eyes flickering up and back to your face. He was thinking, trying to understand as you grabbed his shoulder and moved his head, resting it closer to your own. You smiled as he kept watching you, still thinking.

“For all the things I hate about this situation, you know what I love? Whenever I tell you how amazing you are, how wonderful and good and handsome and strong and intelligent and witty and awesome you are, you can’t make that tsk noise or scoff or sigh or grumble or interrupt to tell me I’m wrong. You have to sit back and take it,” you said.

He gave you a bitch face, rolling his eyes as you kept playing with his hair. He started to nuzzle into the touch though, his face turning soft.

“I love you,” you said. He nodded and pecked a kiss on the top of your nose, big green eyes staring softly. “I know you love me too, Dean.”

He let out a silent breath of air, pulling you flush to him.

“I don’t care what happens. I’m with you,” you said.

He smiled and grabbed your hand, pressing it flat against his chest and over his heart. You felt his heartbeat and smiled.

Two Months Later

“Dean! Lunch is ready!” you shouted from the kitchen. “Bacon lettuce tomato with extra bacon for you!”

You waited a beat, no tuft of brown hair coming around the corner. You grabbed his plate and drink, carrying them out to the library where Dean was researching again.

“You want to eat in here?” you asked. Dean lifted his head and shook it, waving you over. “You don’t want bacon...okay. That’s not concerning or anything.”

He tapped his book and you set the food down, peering over his shoulder.

“A transference spell? You want to transfer it to someone else?” you asked. Dean nodded, tossing his whiteboard at you.

We can’t break it so let’s move it. Move the spell to someone it won’t affect, like someone in a coma that’s never going to wake up. You think that would work?

“Actually, that’s not a half-bad idea,” you said. “Lunch first and then we’ll see if it’s possible.”

“It was a good try,” you said that night. Dean was in the gym, smacking hits against the punching bag. “We’ll get your voice back.”

He looked around the bag, taking deep pants, hitting it once more.

“Dean,” you said, his face scrunching up as he swung again. Hard. He did it a few times, the bag bouncing around, Dean not letting up until he was breathing hard, falling down onto his butt. He shut his eyes and put his head between his knees.

You sat beside him, Dean letting you pull off his boxing gloves. You frowned when you saw he’d cut up his knuckles.

“Let’s clean this up,” you said when his breathing was more even. He followed you to the kitchen, his head low as you wiped down the cuts and dried it off. “I can’t imagine how hard this is. I can’t. But if you need to go and let your anger out, you will do it the right way. Tape up your hands next time, Ali.”

He nodded, glancing up through his eyelashes.

“What would you like for dinner?” you asked. He shrugged. “Pizza?”

“Uf,” you heard him say, both of you wide eyed. “Igaf!”

“You can talk!” you said. Dean did a fist pump and jumped up and down, his sneakers making the cement floor smack. “Sammy! I think the curse is broken!”

“Really? That’s awesome!” he shouted back, wandering into the kitchen after a moment. Dean was still making baby noises though and he was quickly frowning. “So it’s been about six months. Could have been a timing thing.”

“Yeah,” you said, staring at Dean.

“Ea,” he said, pouting. “Ea icese.”

“I have no idea what he’s trying to say,” said Sam.

“Dean,” you said.

“Ea,” said Dean, finding one of his white boards laying around.

I’m trying to say Dean Winchester. That’s all that comes out. It’s like my mouth doesn’t know how to make the sound.

“Y/N. This may sound strange but...I think I know what the witch did,” said Sam. “I read about it like, years ago.”

“Don’t keep us in suspense, Sam,” you said, Dean throwing up his hands.

“Infantiliccum curse. Six month initial period,” he said.

“Well what is it?”

“I think Dean is very lucky that witch only decided to mess with his voice,” said Sam. “It basically reverts whatever the witch chooses in the afflicted to become that like an infant. Babies can’t talk right? Dean couldn’t talk. The other sound thing might have been a side effect.”

“Yeah but he knows how to talk. Why-“

“Yeah, he does but this is the part Dean’s gonna be pissed about. There’s another six months before it fully wears off,” said Sam.

“Ic uns!” said Dean, his face scrunched up. “Fff mfh uc afh!”

“Pretty sure there was an f bomb in there somewhere,” you said. Dean nodded, glaring at Sam.

“Hey, I said fully reversed. Maybe now you can like, learn to talk again in the meantime,” said Sam. “Get some phrases back.”

Dean growled but he still smiled at being able to make sound.

“I think that’s a good idea. I’m sure you’ll pick it up fast.”

“I know this one’s hard,” you said about a week later, holding up a flash card.

“Owiop,” said Dean, opening his mouth wide. “Owiop. Uckin etter. I ate tat etter.”

“L’s are hard. Come on. Tongue up behind your teeth, narrow your cheeks in and drop your jaw. Lollipop.”

“Ollipop,” he said with a bit of a smile. “Oll...Lol...ipop. Loll...ipop. Lollipop. Uck it L’s. I ot tis now.”

“You want to take a break? We’ve been going all morning,” you said.

He just smiled and stared at you.

“I love you,” he said, no struggle this time.

“Been waiting a long time to hear that again,” you said, kissing him for a few long moments.

“Tank you,” he said. “Th...ank you.”

“Thank you for trying. We keep working it and you’ll be back to your old self in no time,” you said.

“Love you,” he said, kissing you again.

“I love you too, Dean. Even when you couldn’t say it, I knew baby. I always knew.”

#supernatural #spn #dean x reader #dean winchester #supernatural fanfiction #dean winchester x reader #dean #winchester #dean spn #dean supernatural

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aggressivelyclueless · 3 years

Text

ouija board

in which it gets out of hand. . . but only a little

warnings: v spooky

(heads up this one’s kinda long, whoops lol)

(@qoinq-qhost u were looking for more danny being a lil shit? vvvv)

Sam was just about ready to get the seance rolling. Thundery and weeping outside, candlelight inside - it seemed like a good night for it. This time around, there were four of them: her, of course; Felicity, from third-hour, had brought the board; her bestie Star (who Sam had almost uninvited, as she hadn't been deemed goth enough, but she owed Felicity a favour and letting this slip was it); and Star's boyfriend-of-the-week, Jake (also not goth, and very much on thin ice).

They sat clustered together on the full-moon rug in Sam's room, a jumbo bag of Chex Mix forgotten on the floor by Jake's backpack. Only the little brown bits were left. "You're host," Felicity was saying, scooting up into a proper cross-legged sitting position and centering the board on the carpet between them. She produced the most important piece - the polished wooden planchet - and dropped it into Sam's waiting palm. "You start."

Star opened her mouth, almost thought better of it, and then asked, "Are we going to get a demon?"

"That's not how this works," said Felicity, shooting Sam a look to keep her quiet. Felicity had the tolerance for questions like those, and the patience not to be cross. "We're not summoning demons. We're communing with the dead. There's a difference."

"Is it still going to be scary?"

Sam bit her tongue. With luck, it would be, and she wouldn't have to deal with Star's antics next time, whether they were at her house or not.

"I don't know," said Felicity, "Maybe. We've never done one at this house before. We might not get a ghost at all."

Sam shrugged, setting the puck down in the center of the board and keeping her first two fingers on it. The others scooted closer, getting comfortable, and followed suit. The candleflames throughout the room were perfectly still.

"Is there anyone here with us tonight?"

For a moment: nothing. She glanced up into the empty air, as if she could spot a slinking shadow on the wall or a flickering shape hovering by the ceiling. She couldn't, even though she wanted to.

Then the slight pull of the token under their collective fingers, and the drawn scraping sound as it crawled slowly across the board: YES.

So they weren't going to come up empty tonight. She glanced over at Star, wondering how intense things would get before she'd bail. Sam was certain that, at some point, she would, or maybe she was getting her hopes up. Star didn't exactly look like goth material. All things considered, this was probably the wrong scene for her.

But she had owed Felicity that favour.

"Why are you here, spirit?" Felicity asked, shifting a little in place. Right to the point.

The planchet under their fingers was still. Sam knew the rules better than anyone: if the ghost chose to answer, it would have to tell the truth.

The ghost chose not to.

Star's eyes darted to Felicity, but there was a hesitation before she spoke. When she did, the words were wrung-out and barely there. "Ask him if he's friendly."

"You ask him," said Jake, nudging her with an elbow. Between the four of them, he was the least invested in the endeavor, seeming more bored than anything. He shrugged, trying to scoot his letter jacket a little higher on his shoulders without having to take his fingers off the puck. The jacket refused.

"Okay." Star took a deep breath, turning her eyes back to the board. The planchet, for the time being, rested on YES. "Ghost," she said, somewhat uncomfortable at directly addressing the dead, "Do you mean us harm?"

Immediately, she could feel the wooden puck go cold under her touch. It slid off YES, veered partway across the board, and went still again. The chill at her fingertips vanished.

"Don't like the looks of that," muttered Felicity. "Sam, you think we should call this one off?"

Sam gave it a moment of consideration. "I don't know. Maybe, but not yet. Let me try once." She cleared her throat. "Spirit - will you tell us your name?"

The planchet didn't have to think about it this time. Star could feel the cold tingling in her fingers again as it moved, slowly but deliberately, and spelled out: JAMES. She frowned.

"What's your purpose here, James?" Felicity ventured, but the ghost revealed nothing. The silence stretched on; finally, she sighed. "Doesn't like me much, does he?"

"I don't know," said Star, which she thought sounded better than a flat-out no. It didn't do any good; Felicity was already looking a little put-out, and Star reached up with her free hand and patted her on the shoulder. "Don't feel bad. We still like you plenty, even if that silly ghost doesn't."

Sam fought back a groan of distaste. Whatever Felicity saw in Star, Sam was seeing none of it. She wanted to tune Star out, didn't want to see her so distracted as if communing with the dead was a mere game.

If things started to hit the fan, Sam was sure she'd never want to come again. In fact, she was starting to count on it.

But would provoking the ghost be worth it? "James," she said, still contemplating it, "Why are you here? What is it you're seeking?"

The puck meandered for a moment, as if conflicted. It rested on the empty part of the board between F and S, turned around, and aimed mostly toward H.

That was when Star jerked her hand back, as if the planchet had burned her. All of a sudden she seemed to be paying attention; Sam wondered if she had finally realized what, exactly, they were dealing with. Whether she did or not, it was too late. She'd disrupted the connection.

Sam had never seen it, but she'd heard the stories of what happened at sessions when someone did that.

Every single candle around the room went out at once.

"Star, what the hell," said Felicity, "Remember how earlier I said you couldn't do that - "

Star's already-high-pitched voice was pinched. "Sorry, sorry! It's just it got cold all of a sudden, I thought he wanted me to - "

Sam scowled in the dark. "What are you talking about, no it didn't - "

"It did so! Just now!"

"Oh for fuck's sake, I knew we shouldn't have invited you - "

"Hey, what's that supposed to mean?"

The flash of lightning through the window made the ghost into a spindly and angular silhouette, floating in the air by the glass and jolting Star and Sam both out of their argument. The planchet on the board, still under six fingers but by now forgotten, shot out from under them and flew across the room, bouncing off the side of the desk and skittering somewhere under the bed.

Oh, it was hitting the fan now, all right. "This is your fault," Sam hissed through her teeth, glowering in Star's direction, but already her mind was racing to find a way to appease the disturbed spirit. She'd held plenty of seances before, but generally found audience with lesser or fragmented dead. Only twice had she been forced to close a session early.

Never had she met such an angry spirit before - and not only was it angry, it was in her room.

"Ideas," Felicity snapped, in an effort to keep Sam from boiling over, and in the same effort to keep Star from tears, "What do we do?"

"Run, maybe?" said Jake, but the sharp and thunderous BANG from the walls around them cut him off. His eyes darted to the door, but it slammed itself shut before he could get up to his feet and make his escape.

"Hold on a sec, guys," said Sam, "Jake, sit down, we're not done yet - hang on, I said! I got a flashlight." She groped for her backpack, brushed over one of eight plushy spider feet, and yanked it unceremoniously into her lap. Half-unzipping it, she produced the promised flashlight and clicked it once, twice, a handful of times in quick succession as nothing happened. "Shit. Shit shit shit - "

"There," Star whispered, her eyes fixed on the shadowy side of the room behind the bed. She pointed with one manicured finger, making the rest of them turn to look.

The ghost was only there for an instant, hanging in the air as a smoky and ill-defined shadow against the hazy grey light from the window, but flickered away an instant later. The pounding rain outside almost masked the haunt's staticky and echoing laughter.

Felicity put a hand over Sam's and tried not to squeeze it too hard. Her fingernails dug in a little anyhow. "Do you think we can still close this out?" She didn't sound too hopeful.

"No," said Star, with a sudden and bone-chilling certainty. "He's staying."

Sam looked over at her, agape. How can you know that? she wanted to say, but her mouth had gone dry and she couldn't force it to move. Star's eyes were on her; just for a moment, Sam swore there was a glint of something behind their usual blue-grey, but it was there and gone before she could be sure.

"We're staying," she said again, and this time Sam heard the echo in it, and this time the glint of green in her eyes lingered. The ghost had her, appearing as a dark and swaying wisp in the air behind her, hands on her shoulders, keeping her still and calm. Her eyes - the ghost's seyes - were on Sam, and a sudden, absurd thought struck her:

Isn't James his middle name?

The knot of rising terror in Sam's gut broke, and cold tingling relief poured over her. For a moment she let it, willing the adrenaline to fade and the pounding heartbeat in her ears to settle, and then shifted gears.

That sonofabitch, I'll kill him for this one.

"No, you're not."

Star's head and the shadow's head cocked to one side in unison. "No?"

Sam was locked on the spirit but her voice was directed at Felicity (and Jake, but to a lesser extent). "Come here."

Felicity hesitated. "What, are you serious - ?"

"Come here," Sam snapped, setting her first two fingers on the center of the board, ignoring the fact that the planchet was still misplaced somewhere under the bed.

"I don't like this," Felicity whispered, but followed Sam's lead regardless.

Star's fingers came out and rested gingerly on top, and Sam was certain that, underneath the veneer of shadows, the ghost was smiling.

"You listen to me, James," Sam commanded, with a seriousness that made Felicity and Jake both flinch, "You'd better get out of here."

Star's mouth turned up in a smile. "And why's that?"

"Because if you don't, I'll banish you into next week."

"Sam," Felicity breathed, "I don't think that's such a good idea - "

"I'll do it," Sam reiterated, cutting Felicity off.

The smils on Star's face widened. "Promise?"

Then the fingers on the board were moving, overcome by a pins-and-needles sensation that turned the board to static beneath them, and came to rest solidly over GOOD-BYE.

"See you then. . . "

Sam looked over and Star looked back at her with those big blue eyes. She didn't seem distraught but Sam had to wonder how much of what had happened she'd remember. She'd heard on several occasions that those puppeteered by the dead didn't tend to recall the influence, and Star wasn't horribly upset.

Still - she felt that ghost had crossed a line somewhere. Crashing a seance, fine. Overshadowing at said seance, even if he'd picked the least-favourite attendee?

That didn't sit right.

"You okay, Star?"

Star blinked once, twice, then cocked her head to one side and smiled. "Of course I'm okay," she said, as if she hadn't been overshadowed at all, but the next thing out of her mouth, spoken with the utmost certainty, sent a chill down Sam's spine.

"He wasn't really going to hurt me, you know. He let you win."

- - - -

Sam shut the door as the others left and then rounded on the ghost. "I know you're still here. There's no way you'd dip after a stunt like that."

(Damn right I wouldn't) said the shadowy thing under the bed, hauling himself out of the darkness a moment later. In the light from the ceiling fixture overhead, the shadows fell apart, relenting to his more human texture and shape, and he shook the dustbunnies off once he got up to his feet. In his hand was the forgotten token that went with Felicity's board, and he held it out to her. "This is yours?"

Sam grabbed it from him, and only then did he get the impression that she wasn't entirely happy with him. "You could have given me a heads-up, y'know."

"Hey, I was in the area, thought you could use a hand. For goth cool points, or whatever." Danny shrugged, leaning back and half-sitting on the side of the bed. "I mean they do think you can scare off a real ghost now."

"And what the hell was with you overshadowing Star?" Sam went on, and at last the dopish grin at the corner of Danny's mouth vanished. "So, okay, maybe I didn't want her to come. But that doesn't mean you get to - "

"Wait, wait, hold on," Danny put a hand up in concession, "I didn't - well, I mean I did, but. Listen for a sec, okay? You don't like her, fine. But I think something's up."

"Something's up," said Sam, nonplussed. She crossed her arms, leaning back slightly in the desk chair and making it creak. "You overshadowing people as a joke is what. And whatever you were telling her in there, guess what She remembers it now."

"That's what's up," said Danny impatiently, "I didn't tell her anything."

That made Sam pause. "What?"

"You heard me. But that's not it, let me say something else too. I swear I'm not making this up: she saw me the second I drifted in the window. I'm invisible and she's looking right at me. The whole time. It was like she was watching me."

"Bullshit," said Sam, wanting to believe it was.

Danny shook his head. "You heard what she said. After you banished me into next week."

"That you let me win," Sam recalled slowly. In the moment, it had struck her as dumb-chills naivety on Star's part, but the way that Danny talked made it sound like she was serious. Perhaps she'd just wanted to think that Star was that stupid.

"She knew it, and I didn't tell her. I'm dead serious, Sam, she practically invited me to overshadow her. I didn't even have to go all the way in her. You saw it."

Sam had most definitely seen it. "And what does this mean for the rest of us? Or for you? You're gonna tell me - what, she's going to miraculously guess you're half-ghost too?"

"I don't know - but you saw her the same as I did. She wasn't scared of me. Hell, I gave you guys a name and she was the one that didn't call me by it. Like she knew it wasn't quite right."

"I get it," said Sam, thinking that maybe she would have been just as well off not calling him that either, "But what are we supposed to do about it? Are you saying we should invite her onto the team? Or what?"

Danny sighed, running a hand through his hair and letting it come to rest on the back of his neck. He shrugged helplessly, his gaze picking out dustbunnies and imperfections in the floorboards at his feet. "I don't know yet. Keep an eye on her, maybe. See if she starts saying things. She's not as stupid as she looks, Sam. Low bar, I know, but the last thing I need right now is somebody else to have to watch out for. I know you don't like her. I'm not asking you to."

He met her eyes then, and the earnestness in them struck her.

"Just, don't let that put her in the way, okay?"

#Ectober Month 2021 #Ectoberhaunt 2021 #Ectoberhaunt Trick #danny phantom #fanfiction #ectober

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goldencherryhazz · 3 years

Text

Better than sex

A/n: it’s currently nearly midnight and I have been working on this for the past three hours, so I don’t even know if it makes sense but I will check in the morning lol! Notes would be much appreciated, pls don��t copy my work!

Warnings: smut, daddy kink, choking, oral fem!recieving, fluff

Agreeing to go on tour with Harry was one of the best decisions you’ve ever made, travelling to every corner of the world and watching your boyfriend perform in front of thousands of people in the most extravagant outfits every night was honestly a dream, but now after four months being on the road with him you we’re finally going home for a break.

‘Wake up darling’ Harry said stroking your cheek, it was only 7’o’clock in the evening in the uk, but jet lag was getting the better of you so Harry being more accommodated to flying here there an everywhere gladly drove you two home from the airport whilst you napped.

You give him a lazy smile stretching your arms in the air ‘we’re home H’ you say excitedly looking at the front of your home, you honestly thought you forgot what it looked like after not seeing it for 4 months.

‘Yes we are my love’ admiring his girl and how cute she looked rubbing her sleepy eyes with her whole palm like a child.

He opens his door and climbs out of the car, quickly making his way to your side to open the door for you like the gentleman he is, ‘m’lady’ he gestures for to to get out the car ‘well thankyou kind sir’ you giggle at him, pecking his cheek on your way to the back of the car.

You two make a quick job of getting all your luggage into the house, only dumping them in the porch already agreeing to deal with it in the morning.

You walk into the kitchen to be greeted by Daisy, your two’s cat who Anne had kindly looked after whilst you and Harry were touring, you felt bad for leaving her for so long but Anne had insisted seeing as Daisy got along with her cats aswell, so she basically had a massive sleepover, ‘hey dais how are you, missed you soo much’ you coo towards her she let you stroke her for a maximum of two seconds before she spots Harry in the doorway and bounds over to him. You chuckle, Daisy had always had a soft spot for Harry and you couldn’t really blame her ‘not giving mama cuddles huh, missed your daddy too much’ he said with the cat laid in his arms, her paws up as if she was in surrender. Eventually she scrambled out of his arms going to her bed in the living room you presumed.

‘Wanna go and watch a film in bed baby, you can choose whatever you want promise I won’t make you watch The Notebook again’

‘Yeah sounds perfect’ she smiles walking to grab his outstretched hand which didn’t have any rings on which was a strange sight after being so used to seeing him with them on.

The two of you trudge up the stairs, and when you finally make it to the top you run into the bedroom that you and Harry shared, and jumped onto your California king bed, making Harry laugh at your antics. You had truly missed this bed after being in a different hotel at least once every two days over the last four months, there was just something about the duvet and the memory foam mattress topper that you couldn’t get enough of, the sheets were also extra soft and smelled like fresh flowers, you laid flat on your back with tight arms and legs splayed out like a starfish, as you practically sunk into the mattress ‘this is better than sex’ you say jokingly but sounding quite serious due to how comfortable you were at that moment.

This made Harry spin round to face you with his eyebrows raised a smirk on his lips, he made his way to the bed, you had your eyes closed so when you felt his breath again the side of your neck it made you jump and had a shiver running out your spine ‘are you sure about that sweet girl’

You open you eyes in shock, not knowing what you said would get him riled up that quickly, or bruise his over so increasing ego, but you knew if you kept playing along he would give it to you really good just so that he could prove you wrong, and you were all for it.

‘Are you saying that this bed is better than my cock...my fingers...and my mouth?’ Kissing you on the sweet spot on your neck between his words.

‘Hmm, I don’t know you’ll have to show me can’t remember.’

‘Oh baby you don’t know what you’ve gotten your self into, I’m gonna make you remember it for days’ making a moan escape your lips, he pounced on top of you pinning you arms above your head kissing you on you lips multiple times before dragging them down your

Harry knew you were probably joking but he loved having his way with you and for the last 4 months being on tour the only sort of intimacy you two had was quick fucks in dressing and hotel rooms with being so busy all the time and at night Harry was understandably tired after doing a show. He wanted to dominate the shit out of you tonight and you had just added fuel to the fire, so with no fear of someone walking in on you both he was going to let loose.

He pulls back and releases your arms, ‘strip for my baby, then I want you to sit at the top of the bed with your back against the headboard’ you moaned softly at his words, already putty in his hands and instantly start undressing as he did the same.

Once you were naked, and sat against the headboard you couldn’t help but stare at your boyfriend pulling his t-shirt over his head making his arms flex, your pussy become slick with your wetness as you watched him. Once he freed his cock from the confines of his boxers, he gives his shaft a few tugs trying to relieve some of the building pressure.

‘Jesus, can smell you from here’ he moans crawling up the bed, you legs spreading even more on instinct to give him more room. He lays on his belly once he is closer to you wrapping his arms around your thighs swiftly dragging you so that his face was barely centre metres away from your sopping cunt, you drape you legs over his shoulder heels digging into his back.

‘M’gonna use my mouth and my fingers and I’m gonna make you cum so hard that you squirt everywhere sweet girl’ you squirm in his grip his eyes looking directly into yours. He gives you no warning as he ducks down pressing a kiss directly on your clit, then licking a bold stripe up your entire pussy ‘always to wet for me, you taste just like a strawberry angel.’ You throw your head back, you hands gripping onto the sheets to prepare yourself for what was to come.

He focuses back on your clit flicking his tongue from side to side, he teases a his middle finger round your entrance making you buck your hips ‘patience sweet girl’ he says removing his lips from your clit to suck a hickey onto the inside of your thigh.

‘Feels so so good daddy’ the first words you had spoken except moan after moan since Harry started, your fingers pinching your nipples, he smirks up at the pet name, his cock twitching against the sheets.

He decides to give you his fingers, inserting two at the same time, you whine at how easily they slid into you. He gives no time to adjust curling them into a ‘cone hither’ motion then pumping them in and out going knuckle deep every time hitting spots that you would never have been able to fine with your own, a calloused finger rubbing tight circles around you clit. ‘How good is daddy making you feel, tell me’

‘So f-fucking good, your fingers feel amazing inside me daddy’ you can’t stop your eyes from rolling into the back of your head as his mouth finds it’s place back on your clit, adding a third finger into you cunt, still thrusting at a delicious pace, You could feel the knot tightening in your belly, but not only that you felt like a balloon was ready to burst within you.

You tangle your fingers in his hair, knowing that he loved it when you tugged on his curls, but you also did it so that he wouldn’t pull away and deny you of an orgasm when you were almost falling off the edge.

‘Clenching around my fingers baby, know your gonna cum, stop holding back leg go for me’.

‘Shit daddy, I’m so close’ you cry out

‘Yeah you gonna squirt for me, soak the sheets?’

‘Yes daddy’

‘Go on then, cum for me sweet girl’

You couldn’t hold back any longer, after a few more thrusts of his fingers you let go screaming as you do, the ballon inside you also bursting resulting in you squirting over the lowers portion of Harry’s face and the sheets beneath, he moaned out. Your legs were shaking, your head was thrown back, and your back arched as he continued thrusting his fingers inside of you to ride out your intense orgasm. After a few moments you took in a sharp breath having forgotten how to breathe ‘holy shit daddy’ you barely mustered up, you felt like you were floating in mid air, you don’t think you’ve cum that hard in a very long time.

After a couple of minutes you start to come down from your high, you look at Harry who was still in the same position, his eyes were glazed over in lust ‘that was so fucking hot angel, swear I could’ve cum just right there and then’ he licks your folds cleaning up you up a bit. Harry swore he could spend hours between your legs, he couldn’t get enough of your taste.

Eventually he presses one last kiss on your clit, before blowing air directly onto the small bud, making you squirm at the overstimulation.

He moves up you body, pressing kisses against your skin along the way, swirling his tongue around your hardened nipples then blowing air only each in just like he had done to your clit making a shiver run up your spine. He reaches your lips kissing, dipping his tongue into your mouth so that you could taste your juices.

‘Was that good sweet girl’ his words muffled by your lips.

‘Yes daddy, m’kinda sleepy now though’ you say shutting you eyes a lazy smile spreading across your face.

‘No falling asleep on me now, haven’t even fucked you yet, m’cocks leakin’ for you.’

This makes you perk up a bit, now yearning to be filled with Harry’s cock, you had only just come down from your last orgasm but you were ready for another one.

‘Want you to come deep inside of me daddy, want you to fill me up so bad’ you whine.

‘You want my cock baby’

‘Yes please daddy’ you were desperate now.

‘Well since you asked so nicely’ he reaches down tugging his cock a few times spreading pre-cum over his length, before slipping into your warm cunt both of you groaning at the feeling, he thrusts all the way inside you his length stretching your walls deliciously.

‘Ohhh sweet girl, swear you pretty cunt was made for me, can I move now’

‘Yes daddy, you can move’ he instantly complies not being able to stay still any longer. He starts a steady pace pulling nearly all the way out before thrusting back in hitting the deepest spots within you. You reach your arms over his shoulders tracing some of his tattoos along the way then gripping onto the soft skin. Whimpers and groans filled the room as Harry buried his face in your neck, your natural scent mixed with your favourite perfume intoxicating him, you take your chance to suck a hickey onto his neck after not having much time to mark him up.

He was fucking into you at a fast pace now, getting lost in pleasure ‘so deep daddy’ you moan. He moved his face from you neck, gripping onto the headboard with one hand to get more leverage, the sight of him above you pounding you into the mattress turned you on even more if that was possible.

‘Daddy can you c-choke me’

His hand flies to your throat gripping it just enough so it restricted you breathing slightly, ‘like that baby, you love it when daddy rough with you, don’t ya’

‘Yes daddy, fucking love it’ you scream as he starts hitting your g-spot repeatedly.

‘Oh shit, daddy’s gonna cum, you gonna cum with me’ he groans hand getting slightly tighter around your throat.

‘I’m gonna cum to daddy, please keep fucking me like that’ your eyes roll into the back of you head you heels looped round his back and crossed at the ankle to keep him as close as possible. His thrusts start to falter and his cock twitches telling you he was about to fall over the edge ‘cum inside me daddy, want you to paint my walls with your cum, please daddy want it soo much’ you whimper also starting to tumble over.

‘Shit I’m cumming’ he growls sheathing into your cunt his cock twitching one last time, his balls resting heavy against the space between your pussy and your tight second hole, he emptied his load inside you, the sensation of his seed filling you up also made you cum, Harry’s grip on your throat giving you a head-rush as you do, you both felt euphoric. After the waves of your release come crashing down in you your body goes limp, you know that you will be sore tomorrow and probably the day after but it was all worth it. Harry’s takes longer to come down from his high, his cum now dripping out of your pussy. ‘You okay bub’ you say sweetly looking up at him.

‘Oh I’m more than okay baby, feel fucking incredible’

He takes his loosened hand off of your throat before resting his body on top of yours, his cock still buried inside of you ‘I take back that last statement about this bed being better than sex’ you whispered breathlessly into his hair stroking through the sweaty curls.

‘You better’ he tiredly laughs into your neck.

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angryinternetduck · 3 years

Text

Pickpocket

A little less than 1.5k words of fluff on moonlighting as a pickpocket, teddy bear rings, and proper entertainment. Harry Styles x reader.

You grinned, pressing another kiss to Harry’s lips.

“I’m going to miss my flight, love…”

“What a pity,” you said flatly, mumbling against his lips.

Harry sighed your name, and you sighed his, mocking his tone.

Harry sighed, gently pushing you off of him. “I’ve got to go.”

You pouted, moving away reluctantly. “I know… You have to come back, though.”

Harry laughed. “‘Course I will.”

“No, I mean, you have to.”

“Okay…?”

You grinned, holding up a silver ring. “Because I have this.” Harry’s jaw dropped, his gaze darting to his hand. His pinky was, indeed, bare, and he looked back at you with an incredulous scoff. “How -?”

“Don’t you know?” you asked. “I moonlight as a pickpocket. ‘sides, it’s just insurance. You’ll get it back.” You winked. “Probably.” Harry shook his head with a grin, kissing you again. “Christ, woman,” he laughed. “You’re ridiculous.”

You stuck your tongue out at him. “Yeah, yeah,” you said, guiding him to the door. “Have fun at your show, doofus. Don’t - you know, fall off the stage or anything…” You paused, looking up at him thoughtfully. “Or maybe do. Certainly entertaining, huh?”

“Oh, fuck off,” Harry laughed.

He was halfway out the door when he stopped and turned around.

He kissed you and said, “You know I’d come back anyway, yeah?”

You smiled a bit, nodding. “I know.” You grinned. “But now you have to.”

Harry laughed, shaking his head. “Jesus Christ. Bye, love.”

Another kiss, and he was out the door.

“Bye, Harry,” you murmured to the shut door.

***

It was his first show away.

You spun the ring around your finger, watching the TV quietly. Your mind wasn’t really on the show you were watching, though; it was stuck on the show you weren’t watching. The show happening in… a few hours. Harry’s show.

Your mind was stuck on the songs at the show in a few hours, the crowd at the show in a few hours, the people at the show in a few hours. More specifically, it was stuck on the girls at the show in a few hours. All the girls at the show, who loved Harry, who were with Harry, who were currently spending more time with him than you were.

You bit your lip, looking down at the ring.

It was a thick band of silver, snug on Harry’s little finger and just a bit too big on yours. It fit him nicely. Looked a bit bulky on you. You wanted to see it on him. Wanted to see it on him, there, at your apartment. At your flat.

You did not want to see videos of him on stage, away from you, with a bare pinky.

You sighed and microwaved some leftovers.

It would be a long four weeks.

***

Four weeks, and he was back.

He was back, all smiles and cuddles and stupid jokes.

All Harry.

You gave him his ring back.

But it was too quick, and he was leaving again in a heartbeat.

“Right then… Do you have one?” Harry asked.

“Yup,” you said, holding up the big golden S ring that went with the H.

Harry’s brows jumped. “Certainly going bold there, aren’t ya, love?”

“Well…”

“Tryna tell me something, are you? Stealing my last name?”

You blushed, kissing him because you couldn’t think of a response. “Maybe,” you said. A pause, and you looked up at him, suddenly quiet. “What if you just… didn’t go?” you asked softly. Harry sighed. “Love, I can’t…”

You bit your lip. “I know.” You cleared your throat, pulling away and clapping your hands. “Alright, then, superstar. Off you go. Don’t forget your words, now.” Harry grinned, talking over his shoulder as he walked out the door. “Well, I dunno about that. Could be proper entertaining, eh?”

“Shut it,” you laughed. “You’re gonna miss your flight.”

“What a pity,” Harry said, leaning forward and stealing another kiss.

“Goodbye, Harold.”

“Bye, darling!” Harry called, already halfway down the hallway.

***

Your thievery was a bit more obvious this time around, since the H looked just a bit lonely on his fingers. But you had your insurance, and every time his other hand started to fiddle with his rings and he got to that spot, he got a little smile on his face and gave a grin to the camera that you could only flatter yourself by thinking was for you.

You’d started to watch videos of his shows on YouTube. You were still deciding whether it was beneficial, though, or if it just made you more depressed. It brought a smile to your face watching him in all his charismatic, designer clad, dimpled glory on stage, but it also kinda made your heart ache.

When he came back again, the S was returned. And when he left, a silver-ish one with little teddy-bears on it was stolen. You watched YouTube, and ate a lot of ice cream, and tried not to think about all the beautiful girls Harry was rejecting because of you, and debated flying out to surprise him about a million a two times before realizing you really just did not have the money for it.

And so the cycle continued. Another homecoming, another return. Another departure, another pickpocket. More YouTube, more ice cream, more painful imaginings of multitudes of pretty girls, many, many more surprise debates, and even more being-broke realizations.

***

The end of tour brought the end of the heart aches, but not the end of the thieveries. You kept up with the robberies, stealing a ring or two from Harry every so often to keep around your little finger.

And then the next tour rolled around, and it started all over again.

Kind of.

***

Harry glanced down at his fingers and smiled at you. “Stolen one, have you?”

“Yup,” you chirped, holding up a little gold one that fit with another.

“Well, I’m afraid you’re going to have to give it back, love.”

You frowned. “When you come back,” you said.

“Now, love?” Harry asked. “Please?”

“When you come back,” you insisted. Harry pouted. “I like that one too much,” he said, and you grumbled, “You’re being a pain,” but handed it over. Harry grinned. “Thank you kindly, darling,” he said, sliding it onto his pinky.

“Uh-huh. Gimme another.”

Harry cleared his throat, his hand slipping to his coat pocket. “Listen, darling, about that…”

You raised an eyebrow. “Not gonna leave me hanging, are you?”

“No, no,” Harry said, “just the opposite, really…” He cleared his throat again and met your eyes, his gaze suddenly serious. He took a breath, a bit of color creeping up his cheeks, and stepped back. “Actually,” he said, “I’d like you to take, erm - this one…”

You gave a quiet gasp as he bent to one knee, a smile curving his lips as he held up a slim silver ring, a diamond stone set in its center. He said your name softly, so sweetly it made your heart flutter, and asked, “Will you take this ring and make me the happiest man on earth?”

“Yes,” you whispered, too startled to yell. And then you processed, and you squealed, “Oh my - yes!” as you slid the ring onto your finger and pulled him up into a kiss all in one motion. “Yes, yes, yes!” you repeated, throwing your arms around his neck in a happy hug.

Your kisses turned deeper, but you pulled away after a second, resting your head on his chest with a sigh. “Shit,” you muttered. “You have to leave, don’t you?” Harry nodded, pushing you away gently to give you a kiss on the nose. “Just a few weeks.”

“You’re a fuckin’ tease, Styles,” you sighed.

“You love me,” Harry laughed.

“Oh, shut it and get out of here. You’ll never forgive me if you miss your flight.”

“That I won’t. Don’t have too much fun without me, wifey.”

“As long as you don’t split your pants on stage.”

“Dunno ‘bout that, love, could be proper entertaining, eh?”

“Proper great view, too.”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” Harry laughed. “I’m gonna miss my flight.”

“What a pity.”

Harry laughed, stepping outside. “Bye, wifey.”

“You call me that one more time and the wedding’s off!” you told him.

Harry turned around, blowing you a kiss with a cheeky smile. “Goodbye, darling.”

You smiled, fiddling with your new ring. “Bye, Harry.”

***

the end 💜

hope you liked it!!!! I’m kinda not too sure about this one lol it’s been sitting in my drafts for about 2.3 billion years... but here it is! if you liked it, feedback and a reblog would be much appreciated :)

masterlist is here

thanks for reading!

#harry styles fanfiction #harry styles x reader #harry styles fluff #harry styles one shot #harry styles x you #harry styles x y/n #harry styles blurb #harry styles drabble #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fic #harry styles writing

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chockfullofsecrets · 3 years

Text

Critical Role: The Importance of Timing, Ch 1

<<chapter navigation TBA>>

(Read on AO3)

Rating: Gen

Summary: Jester sobers quickly, though, pouting insistently down at them.“Four is pret-ty bad, you guys.”

Kingsley nods seriously. Thus validated, she starts bouncing excitedly on the balls of her feet. “I think we need to punish them, Fjord!”

Caleb and Essek make the mistake of overworking themselves right before the Mighty Nein are scheduled for a reunion. Lessons are learned.

Wordcount: 3.6k (yeah, this one’s going to take a while)

A/N: making some more progress on my backlog of prompts (this one happens to be both from the most recent vote and this lovely anon prompt)! cross your fingers that this is going to be my first finished chapter fic lol

---

Caleb hardly remembers it, later.

It was evening - not particularly late, but after three near-sleepless nights time stretched into its own kind of viscous liquidity. Like a soup.

He laughed to himself at the absurdity of it, too tired for more than the barest expense of breath. Essek would know better than he, of course - he turned to him, intending to share the thought, and found a sheaf of notes thrust mere inches from his face.

“Here,” Essek said brusquely. Exhaustion did not lend itself to the usual smoothness of his speech. “I think I have it, finally - if we engrave it this way, the spell will replenish itself without interrupting conversation, yes?”

“Oh.” He took the papers, looking them over blearily - his eyes widened, a brief rush of vigor returning. “Oh, this is - oh, this is good! Let me just fabricate the surface smooth again and we can try-”

There was a crash from a location beyond the lab and therefore currently unimportant. Neither of them looked up.

The interruption, then, arrived unexpectedly.

“Hel-loooo!”came a lilting Nicodranian accent from the hall. “We got here early and you didn’t answer your door so we used our super cool magic powers to come in, and we should to-tally make a hammock themed room in the mansion tonight because I think Fjord is kind of land sick - Caleb, look at me, why do you look so terrible?”

Caleb knew the consequences of ignoring that voice. He looked up.

After hours of gazing at runes, his eyes refused to fully adjust and take in the three figures in the doorway. He squinted and managed to make out a bit of blue. “Jester?”

“They look tired right out, the poor things,” a purple blob pronounced from Jester’s right. “We haven’t missed out on an adventure, have we?”

“No,” Jester said, “Essek would never go out with his hair looking like that. Right, Essek? Aren’t you, like, super embarrassed that your hair’s all floppy right now?”

Sitting shoulder to shoulder with the floppy-haired drow in question, Caleb could just barely hear him hiss in protest at the interruption. “Leave, then, if it disturbs you so.”

Caleb blinked, starting to fumble together a sentence to dull the reprimand, and suddenly the remaining green blob resolved into Fjord as he put a hand on Caleb’s forehead and crouched to look into his eyes. “All right, it’s bedtime for you two. Jes, can you get Essek?”

“Wait-” Caleb grabbed weakly for the table, for his notes at least, but he was already being swept up in Fjord’s arms and carried bodily from the room. Essek sounded much more awake - and irate, frankly - behind him, trying to explain something, but it had been far too long since he had been anywhere near horizontal - with his head pillowed against Fjord’s bicep, he was asleep before they reached the stairs.

---

Waking is a slow process.

He is not alone - there’s a weight to being tangled up in someone else, the warm scent of closeness, and even without his eidetic memory he does not think he can ever forget the stony, moon-soaked smell of having his face buried in the crook of Essek’s shoulder.

He yawns lazily. Essek must be very tired, if Caleb is awake and he is not, and he is the better cook of the two of them anyway - although of course neither of them have any comparison to Caduceus, or Yasha now that it’s been several months since her last poisoning incident. He presses a gentle kiss to Essek’s jaw and rolls out of bed to get started with breakfast.

Or tries to, at least. His top half makes it out of bed easily enough, but the rest of him does not seem inclined to follow.

Something clanks at the foot of the bed as he narrowly hauls himself up from a quick trip to the floor. He props himself up on an elbow, halfway through another yawn, and finds himself staring down a pair of manacles hooked around his ankles.

He kicks cautiously. The chain threaded through his bed posts clanks again.

Panic begins to stir low in his gut. “Essek!”

There’s a sleepy murmur next to him. He twists to find Essek blinking awake - there’s not much else he can do, with his arms shackled above his head and his legs chained below in similar fashion. The cuffs are padded at least, stuffed with what looks to be worn handkerchiefs, and they’re both fully dressed in sleep clothes - their captors don’t want to hurt them, then, not yet.

Caleb scans the room frantically. The book he has been reading is still propped open on the bedside table, the door knob Essek had pried from an Aeorian ruin after Caleb had commented on its sparkle still proudly adorns the bathroom door, Kingsley is still leaning against the window-

He grins smugly as Caleb’s gaze snaps back to him. “Oh, good, you’re both awake. Comfy watch, but it’s ever so much more boring without the-” He pulls his hands from his pockets and rocks them back and forth. “Oh, and also the fish folk trying to kill us, those are great.”

“Kingsley?” Caleb demands. Next to him, Essek makes a shocked sound as he presumably recognizes that he cannot move any of his limbs. “What is this?”

“Oh, I can’t rightly say.” Kingsley saunters over and swings himself neatly up onto the mattress, worming between him and Essek to sit cross-legged at the center of the bed. “Wasn’t my idea, at any rate-”

“Jester and Fjord were here too,” Essek interrupts. “Is this - this is a prank, is it not?”

“Hush, you,” Kingsley smirks. “All I’ve got is that I’m to ensure you don’t make your way free with any spellcasting before Fjord and Jester get back. And to that end…”

He breaks the pause with a dramatic flourish of his arms, spreading them wide before laying a palm down lightly on each of their bellies. “I’m told this should do just fine, if the two of you care to demonstrate?”

Caleb connects the dots just a moment too late to throw himself back off the edge of the bed. “Kingsley - wait - ah!”

There was a time when it would take minutes for his mind to link the intruding sensation of touch to anything but wariness. Now, the instant Kingsley’s fingers start scribbling he’s flat on his back, pushing weakly at the offending limb and doing his best not to collapse into hysterical snickering at how much it - it -

“Tickle, tickle, magic man,” Kingsley teases, pupilless eyes aflame with mischief. “No, no, don’t bother fighting it. I’ve heard tales about those ribs of yours, you know. Especially how much you love letting Jester play with them, hm?”

“N-nein, that’s not-” Caleb tries to protest, but he’s already giggling just at the thought - Fjord and Jester are here, and he’s stuck, and Kingsley won’t stop tickling him-

Kingsley’s grin grows another satisfied inch as he turns back to Essek. “And you, stubborn - oh, are you trying to cast something? Is that what that face means?”

Essek is struggling, jaw working and face scrunched as his entire body trembles in time with the claw vibrating its way into his belly. Caleb can practically see the Misty Step brewing on his tongue, just a few short words between him and freedom if only he can get them out without laughing.

Until Jester tracks him down, that is. He hasn’t - they’ve been apart, and then in Aeor, and then working on their big project for the past few weeks, and Caleb hasn’t exactly gotten around to admitting that he might like Essek to - admitting anything, really. Or telling Essek that now that Jester knows he’s ticklish and doesn’t entirely mind it, any attempt to escape will only end in more retribution.

An oversight, in retrospect.

Kingsley purrs, apparently entirely delighted with his victim’s predicament. “Oh, come on now, you can do it! It’s been a while since I’ve seen a good magic show.” Essek shakes his head frantically, lips pressed together even as his cheeks puff with repressed giggles, and Kingsley grins all the wider. “No? Let’s see how long you last when I really start pressing your buttons, then.”

On his side and snickering helplessly, Caleb cannot help but feel a little jealous as he watches Kingsley tug up Essek’s shirt and wait for his eyes to widen in terrible anticipation. “One last chance, then? Cause I think this is really going to tickle.”

Caleb wants him to succeed, really, he does - but watching Essek try as hard as he can to curl in on himself as a single fingertip starts to rub at his navel, squirming and squeezing his eyes shut and finally barking out the first two syllables of his incantation before the third succumbs to high, squeaking laughter holds its own considerable charm. “Ahahaaaa - nooo, hehe! - wh -” He laughs a little more, shoulders shaking, and barely manages to gasp out the words. “Fjord - Jester - where -”

“Couldn’t take it? Oh, you are a ticklish thing,” Kingsley tells him, laughing when Essek’s attempt at protesting collapses into a breathless snort. “You’re wondering where they are? Really, I couldn’t say. Maybe they’ll be gone for hours, and I’ll just have to keep tickling and tickling-”

He’s focused in on Essek now, taking his other hand off Caleb to wiggle it menacingly over a defenseless armpit - Essek takes one look at the new threat and screams. “Caleb!”

Kingsley’s replaced his hand with his tail squeezing around Caleb’s thigh, and it tickles so badly and unexpectedly that Caleb would like to curl up in a ball and do some screaming of his own, but with Essek pleading for his help there’s no other choice.

He pulls himself back onto his elbows and flops into Kingsley’s lap as best he can with his legs chained, reaching blindly for ticklish spots that used to belong to Mollymauk - gasping through a new wave of laughter as the spade of Kingsley’s tail starts to poke at the soft back of his knee, he crowds his fingernails against the small of Kingsley’s back and yelps in preemptive terror as Kingsley starts to laugh and reaches for him instead. “Fjord! Jester!” he shouts. “Help!”

“Gah - oh, fuck, thahat’s - haaaa-” Kingsley flails for a moment, legs kicking out as he tries to shimmy away, but in the next moment his fingers are tickling mercilessly under Caleb’s arms and Caleb can hardly breathe, let alone keep tickling him. He flails to escape, trying to wrap his arms around himself and use them to drag himself away at the same time, but really that just means that Kingsley’s hands are stuck in his armpits now and he’s going to die-

“Right, right, I’ve learned my lesson, no ganging up on our little star,” Kingsley grumbles. Caleb gasps in breathless relief as Kingsley works his hands free - he’s facedown on the mattress, but he hears Essek shout for Fjord and Jester too before dissolving into another fit of giggles. Presumably Kingsley’s putting his tail to good use somewhere.

A hand grabs his shoulder, and he’s rolled over onto his back with his legs untwisting beneath him. He blinks up into Kingsley’s gaze, eyebrows raised in apparent dudgeon. “You, on the other hand,” Kingsley growls, as if his lips weren’t curving up into a fanged smile already, “I am absolutely going to need both hands for what I’m about to do to your ribs.”

“Mist,” Caleb sputters reflexively, and then, louder, “Fjord! Jester! FJORD!”

Kingsley’s eyebrows rise even higher. “Oh, it’s sweet that you think they’re going to help you. Unless - oh, did you want more hands?”

Caleb hardly hears the approaching footsteps over his own anticipatory squeal as he watches Kingsley’s fingers start to wander back down towards his ribs. “Nein! - eheeheh, oh gods, nein-”

But then, suddenly, blessedly, the fingers ghost lightly over his ribs and settle for spidering across his tummy instead. He wheezes in relief - half of it comes out as giggles, his nerves still on high alert, but he fully intends to enjoy breathing while he can.

He flops tiredly back, eyes tracking to the doorway as Fjord and Jester stroll in. “Sorry for the wait,” Fjord says politely. “Jester and I were just finishing up lunch. Because it’s lunchtime.”

“No rush, Captain!” Kingsley practically chirps. “We’re having a wonderful time, aren’t we, boys?”

Fjord looks completely unsurprised to find the two of them in chains. Jester is practically bouncing beside him. Caleb imagines this does not bode well for them.

Essek pipes up from behind him, metal clanking as he tries to move to see around Kingsley. “Did - heh - did we oversleep? I think the shackles are a bit uncalled for-”

“Oh,” Fjord says, low and dangerous. He’s not smiling, not yet, but Caleb can see it in his eyes and that is even worse. “Don’t mind those. It would be a shame to let the two of you leave your bedroom so soon when you haven’t seen it in days and days, wouldn’t it?”

With Kingsley still tickling at his waist, Caleb can’t even begin to coax his stomach muscles to let him sit up as Fjord and Jester cross to the bed and loom over the both of them. Jester claps her hands together, looking dangerously pleased with herself. “Do you like them?” she enthuses. “We got them from a pirate raid, because someone put our other set on a fish person that jumped right back into the ocean.”

“They were getting rusted anyway - I don’t think we collected a single one of those at sea, they’re not even waterproofed.” Fjord grumbles amiably. “These, though-”

He hooks one finger delicately through the chain connecting Caleb’s ankles to the bedpost and tugs, dragging one helpless foot just close enough to scoop up in a waiting hand. “Now these are made for some real seafaring shit. Could hold a body for as long as you want, as long as they aren’t inclined to use any magic tricks.”

Caleb tries to yank his foot back. Fjord just chuckles and leans over to stare him down, his yellow eyes warm and amused. “Isn’t that right, Caleb.”

“No magic tricks,” he gasps out through another fit of giggles as Fjord rubs a warning thumb over his sole. It’s hardly a concession - between that and Kingsley, he hardly has the breath to try anything.

“Good,” Fjord says encouragingly. He puts Caleb’s foot gently down and turns to Essek. “Now you.”

Caleb turns to look at him - from what little of Essek’s body language he can read, he looks wholly confused. “You’re not going to let us go?”

Fjord crosses his arms. “Oh, I’m sure we can come to some kind of agreement. Just consider this a friendly reminder that Jester, Kingsley and I are quite capable of following any… magical exits.”

Essek visibly rallies at the mention of magic, quirking an eyebrow. “I wasn’t aware you had learned how to Teleport.”

“Essek,” Caleb hisses. Fjord shushes him and stalks a single step forward, just close enough to start tickling lightly at the bottom of one purple foot.

Essek’s superior expression lasts all of a moment before his entire body starts flailing to escape the single point of contact. “Ah! No, nohoho, wahahait, I didn’t - ahaha, stop that!”

“You’re right, I can’t Teleport,” Fjord says conversationally. “Good catch, I’d kind of forgotten about that one. Jes, we’ve got some antimagic stuff on the ship, right?”

Jester interrupts herself from making increasingly dramatic faces at Essek to answer. “I think so? You know, just in case if we meet someone icky like you know who.”

“Perfect. Maybe you and Kingsley can keep Essek busy, and I’ll head back to the ship and root around for it?” He looks calmly down at Essek, kicking as frantically as he can with the few inches of leeway the shackles afford him and still completely unable to avoid Fjord’s fingers. “It’ll take a while, mind you.”

Jester perks up, dancing over and reaching for Essek’s other foot. “Yes! Kingsley, did you try his ears yet? They get all flappy and it’s really really-”

“No!” Essek rushes out, squeaking in harried protest when they still don’t stop tickling up his arches. “I - wait,” he pleads. “No! I won’t cast, I won’t!”

Fjord grins. “That wasn’t so hard, was it? Alright, Kingsley, can we give them a moment?”

Kingsley removes his hands from both of them rather reluctantly. Fjord claps his shoulder in silent thanks. “Now, would either of you like to explain why we found the two of you half-dead from sleep deprivation?”

“Yeah, you guys, we were so worried!” Jester adds. “You can’t do that when we’re not around to take care of you! You guys haven’t been doing this all year, have you?”

“We’ve only met up in the last few months,” Caleb adds, wincing a little as their eyes turn to him. He sits up slowly, wincing apologetically in the direction of Essek’s wrist shackles. “But no, we have not, we are just working on this project - it is a real ficker, there are so many moving pieces - and we are nearly done, we meant to sleep last night.”

“How many days?” Fjord asks. “One? Two?”

When neither of them answer, sharing a silent look, he hovers a hand threateningly over each of their trapped feet. “Believe me, you really don’t want us to pick a number.”

“Four,” Essek says warily. “But Caleb slept for at least an hour each night, and I don’t need to-”

“Oh, four’s a lot,” Kingsley cuts in. “Did you not learn how to sleep in shifts, not being on the ocean, or do you just enjoy each other’s company that much?”

Essek turns bright red. Caleb’s pretty sure he turns even redder. Even Fjord looks a little embarrassed as Jester and Kingsley collapse into laughter.

Jester sobers quickly, though, pouting insistently down at them.“Four is pret-ty bad, you guys.”

Kingsley nods seriously. Thus validated, she starts bouncing excitedly on the balls of her feet. “I think we need to punish them, Fjord!”

Caleb can easily guess what this punishment will entail. “Wait a moment,” he says hastily, “we have not even told you about this project-”

“It will be worth it,” Essek adds. “If you would just let us-”

Fjord nods thoughtfully, ignoring their protests. “What do you say, a minute for each hour they should have been sleeping?”

“No-” Caleb starts.

“So that’s sixteen for Essek, and - Caleb’s been napping on and off, sounds like, so we’ll round it down to a neat half hour for him.”

Caleb gapes fearfully. A half hour of tickling, after months and months - he can admit to himself that he missed it a little, but- “That’s too much,” he blurts. “Bitte, you’ll kill me-”

“Really, this is unnecessary,” Essek adds, surprisingly dignified for the way he’s trying helplessly to press his feet against the bed. “Just - we are well rested now, we only need a few hours more to finish the project, there is no need!”

Jester pouts. “Oh, Essek, don’t you want to hang out with us?”

Essek flounders at that, and Caleb can’t help the soft smile that slips out of him. “I would like nothing more,” he assures her, “but being chained up and - and tortured - was not quite on my mind-”

“Well then, you shouldn’t have been so dumb, Essek,” she says cheerily. “Caleb, do you want me or Fjord to tickle you?”

His mouth goes dry. Jester will be - Fjord teases, but he is gentle at least, and Jester is - Jester-

He looks over at Essek, wide-eyed and eyes flicking between all of them in some strange combination of bewilderment and anticipation, and braces himself. “Jester.”

Kingsley laughs, delighted. “Oh, he must really love you,” he tells Essek. “He’s gone and given you the better option by far.”

Essek looks at Caleb, gaze softening. “Really?”

Caleb grimaces back at him, a little embarrassed by himself. “He’s exaggerating. And besides, I am not the one laid flat out here.”

Essek frowns. “Yes, about that.”

“Caleb doesn’t like having his wrists pinned down,” Jester says easily, scrambling up onto the bed and into Caleb’s lap. “Though you should know that already if you two are boning-”

“Jester,” Caleb pleads. Kingsley starts to laugh again.

She beams at him, darting in to press a kiss to the tip of his nose. “Hi, Caleb!”

It’s impossible not to smile back. “Hallo, blueberry.”

He looks around her to see Fjord walk over and settle on Essek’s side of the bed, patting his shoulder companionably. “It’s good to see you two, really.”

Essek just sighs.

Kingsley prods at his belly, earning a hasty yelp. “He’s in a mood, it seems. You want some help with him?”

His stomach grumbles, just then, and Fjord laughs. “Why don’t you get some lunch instead,” he suggests. “We’d have brought something up, but the screaming sounded rather urgent.”

“Aye-aye, Captain,” Kingsley cocks a loose salute and swings back off the bed with one more tickle under each of their arms, snorting in amusement as Caleb and Essek both squirm and protest. “The others should be arriving soon, I’ll keep a weather eye on the door.”

“Yes, do that,” Fjord says, waiting for him to round the corner and start down the stairs. “That guy is really into sea lingo.”

“Kingsley is great,” Jester enthuses. “Don’t you guys think he looks so much prettier now that he’s all tan?”

She’s not wrong. “Ja, sure.” Caleb says. “By the way, what exactly did the two of you tell him about-” He flushes. “About my ribs?”

“Oh, you know, just some stuff!” Jester says cheerfully. “Most of it is definitely not true by now, probably, since it’s been a super long time since we’ve seen you.”

She puts both of her hands on Caleb’s shoulders and presses, sending him flat on his back and leaning over with a mischievous smile. “Good thing we have a whole half hour to catch up, huh?”

Caleb gulps.

#tickling #critical role #shadowgast #caleb widogast #essek thelyss #kingsley tealeaf #fjord #jester lavorre #chocfic

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asterroidd · 3 years

Text

tempt fortune

↬ Pairing: Levi Ackerman x Reader

↬ Word count: 4.5k

↬ Warning/s: swearing, mentions of sex, alcohol, slight NSFW (?)

↬ Synopsis: Too deep in an argument with Hange in attempts to prove you are—in fact—not a virgin, you’ve accidentally lied blurted out that you and Levi are in a relationship.

↬ Notes: Tysm for the request anon! I had way too much fun with this prompt lol.

↬ Minors do not interact. Go away, shoo shoo!

8th prompt: “I can’t believe you told them you were my fiancé.”

The night was murky and dark with only the shine of the moon serving as a way to illuminate the streets of the city. Trees stripped bare as a sign of the forthcoming change of seasons, and a milky white fog had encompassed the city’s canals and dark alleyways. The crisp, cold air makes the hair on your skin stood up and shiver despite the layers of clothing you wore.

Though, that feeling will dissipate away as soon as the bitter taste of alcohol hits your taste buds and enter your system.

Earlier that day, Hange and Petra had invited you to a night out to the local pub to wash away the fears and tension of being soldiers of the Survey Corps. A guilty pleasure of some sort, just a way to rid the jitters of being eaten by a titan outside the walls. Despite the three of you being veterans, neither of you could ever shake the feeling of death’s cold hands resting on top of your shoulder.

That said, two of your best friends walked alongside you. Arms hooked with one another for warmth and for comfort. Soon enough, the three of you arrived at the destined place: the pub.

There are a couple of tables already taken, but the place is not too full. Even with that, the pub is still quite energetic; with men hollering and throwing their heads back as they chat with one another, weak threats that are carelessly thrown around by drunk individuals looking for a mock fight, and of course the iconic clink of glasses against one another as toast.

“What are we drinking tonight?” Petra asked. She claimed a seat at an empty table, in which you and Hanji followed suit.

“Whiskey!” Hange announced to which brought a grin on your face.

"Getting wasted, I see.“ You shrugged your jacket off and placed it neatly by your side. "Isn’t it Petra’s turn to treat us?”

The female in question instantly whipped her head to face you, a shocked look evident on her face. “I don’t recall making such promises.”

"You sure did!“ Hanji added. "We made a bet weeks ago. Debating whether or not Erwin grooms his eyebrows every morning.”

"In which we won, by the way.“ you said with a smug look on your face. "The commander does indeed groom it and even has a special comb for it.”

“Not fair!” Petra pouted, pushing her bottom lip out and giving Hange the puppy dog eyes in attempts to save her poor wallet. Which was futile, the brunette stuck her tongue out and shook her head. While Petra and Hange continued with their debacle, you took it upon yourself to call the attention of a barmaid. She gave you a beaming smile, her golden locks neatly tied into a bun and crow’s feet visible beneath her eyes. She approached the table wherein the three of you are situated.

“Two bottles of whiskey and three mugs please,” you spoke, not even bothering to wait for her to speak up. She nodded before strolling towards the counter to prepare your order.

Petra slumped her weight onto the table as she heaved a sigh in defeat. “Fine. It’s my treat tonight.”

You and Hange cheered in delight, successfully evading a huge loss of money given that whiskey is quite expensive. The continuous catastrophic storms that beleaguered the farmlands had made an extensive disastrous effect on the supply of barley and wheat. Which, like a domino effect, limits the supply of whiskey within the walls. Increasing the price of the said beverage more than two-fold.

It was a good thing that you put faith in your instincts and thus won the bet.

“How’s the research going, Hanji?” Petra changed the topic.

The brunette let out a drained sigh, “Levi had to kill Hughes.”

“Hughes?” You piped in. “The eight-meter class aberrant titan we caught last time?”

Hange nodded, “He was a good man. An honest man.” She spoke of the titan as if it was her long lost husband that died in a war.

Then, she started blabbering on and on about the experiments she had done to the beast; piercing its eye to count the regeneration time, plucking one of its teeth out to see if it would disintegrate, and many more.

You would’ve stopped her then and there if it weren’t for the barmaid approaching your table with a tray of glass and two bottles of whiskey. You internally cheered, Hange had told stories about Hughes a couple of times already that you basically had memorized it all.

The three of you wasted no time in popping one of the bottles and pouring the bitter liquid into the cups.

"To friendship. And condolences to Petra’s wallet.“ You raised your glass up to which the two mirrored. With one satisfying clink of the glass, you swallowed down its contents in one gulp. Your face contorting in an unattractive expression as the alcohol slid down your throat.

"I was planning to buy a book that I wanted. But it looks like it would have to wait for the time being,” Petra said, pouring another glass of whiskey.

"Pshh,“ your brunette friend snorted. "You have Oluo to buy anything you want.”

Instantly, blood rushed to Petra’s face upon hearing the male’s name.

You joined in the teasing. “Oh yeah. You two are a thing. Now, aren’t you?”

“We’re not!” your friend slammed her fists on the wooden table. “We’re just friends!”

“Oh really?” Hange swished the whiskey around the glass. “That’s not what I heard the other night.”

She leaned in close to whisper. “I heard moans coming out of his room.”

Petra sucked in a breath in shock, her eyes widening in shock and mouth slightly agape. “I- it’s not…it’s–” she said but she was a stuttering mess.

“Already in that stage, I see.” You playfully nudged her. It was an ongoing comical joke in the base that Oluo and Petra are in a romantic relationship after the male flat out publicly confessed to her one night in the mess hall. The room immediately erupted in a mess as howls and catcalls are heard. Ever since then, both of them are continuously teased.

“Say, (____)…” Hange trailed off, her fingers curling around the shot glass. Gulping the remaining liquid down her throat before continuing, “Are you a virgin?”

You let out an inhumane sound in shock. Borderline choking as you tried to swallow down the whiskey caught in your throat. Petra saw your discomfort in which she assisted you by lightly patting you on the back as you coughed air out.

“What kind of question is that?” you said after your body stopped jerking.

Hanji gave you a lop-sided smile. “Just that we are nearing our thirties. Who knows when we’ll breathe our final breath? The least we could do is experience getting laid before that happens.”

“Well, are you a virgin?” You answered with a question.

Hange rests her chin on top of her open palm. “Nope, though it was a one night stand.”

You sweat buckets, you never had someone popped your cherry before, let alone a serious relationship that is romantic.

Are you the only one left that hasn’t got laid?

But it’s not your fault! You were just too caught up with military services that love never crossed your mind

Or did it?

Your mind wanders off to daydream about the small and petty crush you have with a certain captain.

There is just something so captivating about the way his silver eyes met yours the first time you saw him. How his raven hair looks neat every time and you could only guess how soft it would be to touch. Not to mention his impeccable skill with the 3dmg maneuver gear and its blades.

Yes, it was none other than Captain Levi himself. But it was all just a petty crush! A small rosebud of admiration that had blossomed as you fought alongside the male and got to know him better each passing day.

“Well?” Hange snapped you out of your thoughts. “Have you or have you not gotten laid?”

You cleared your throat, you didn’t want to look foolish in front of your friends. Given that the two of them had their own fair share of experience in the topic. They would tease the hell out of you and soon enough, the whole base would do as well.

Lieutenant (____), the virgin soldier. You don’t want things to be that way.

“O-of course I did,” you puffed your chest out more to elicit fake confidence.

Petra cooed, “Really? With who?”

You thought of the closest male in your personal bubble. “Levi!”

To say that the two were shocked was an understatement. They were both flabbergasted. Never in a million years would they expect that you and Levi had a relationship, let alone sexual intercourse. The two, in fact, never saw him and you close enough that would draw out a romantic vibe. So they are completely blown away and confused at the same time.

“Bullshit,” Hange said. “Shorty is one lonely man that has no love in his system.”

“I-is too!” you stuttered out, hand flailing around in panic. “In fact, he is my fiancé.”

Okay, that might be a stretch.

Petra slammed her hands against the table to which garnered half of the customers’ attention. “Get out! No way!”

“Yes way!” You countered. So far so good, now all you had to do is convince them that you and Levi are actually a thing. Which was easier said than done since you would need to bribe or annoy the male enough that he would give in to your pleas.

Though, Hange is still unimpressed as evident with her pouting lips and furrowed eyebrows. “Prove it then, show us that the shorty and you are actually a thing. I would bet half of my salary this month if you could show us that Levi is capable of love.”

“Bring it on four-eyes!”

And so begins the downfall of your life.

Levi had a sick feeling in his gut; a hunch that for the next few hours, he would have a shitty day. However, he couldn’t say for sure what would cause such disturbance to his day. His gut feelings were never wrong, it was an innate sense that he had ever since he lived in the Underground. So he was sure something would happen, he’d have to be more careful.

That said, he instantly regretted the way he jinxed himself.

There you are, standing outside of his office at two in the morning. Your fingers fiddled with the hem of your shirt, constantly shifting your weight from one foot to another as you refuse to make eye contact with Levi. Bashful eyes kept staring down at your feet whilst you find the words to make one coherent sentence.

“I have something important to discuss with you,” you murmured to which Levi quirked a brow. What did you want now that it couldn’t wait until the sun rose up in the sky?

The male crossed his arms across his chest, leaning his weight on the doorway. “What is it?”

“Please pretend to be my lover.”

Levi blinked, his eyes widening and mouth hanging open slightly. Though, he regained back his usual composure in a split second. He narrowed his eyes at you.

You want him to do what now? Is this some kind of prank or sick joke that you thought of?

Taking note of his silence, you decided to explain to him your situation that needs his immediate cooperation and attention.

“You see…” you sucked in a breath. “I kind of lied to Hange and Petra that I got laid and it was you who actually took my virginity. Hange didn’t believe a word that I said and uhh-… Things got out of hand and I told them I was your fiancé.”

What?

Levi sighed through his nose, an exasperated expression on his face. “So this is what it’s all about.”

“Yes. And now I need you to play along and pretend to be my significant other.”

The male scrunched his face up in disgust, “I can’t believe you told them you were my fiancé.”

You fought back a sob, “Please. I beg of you, Levi.”

“No.” Levi shook his head. “No way. Don’t drag me in your own bullshit.”

The male was about to close his door but you grabbed him by his sleeve. Clutching on it until your knuckles turned white. You couldn’t just let him shut you out without agreeing to play along. You’d do whatever it takes just to get Levi to pretend to be your lover.

"I’ll buy you the expensive black tea.“

His ears twitched, now that piqued Levi’s interest. You smirked as he froze, you knew that he has a soft spot for tea. And tasty, expensive ones at that matter.

Levi chewed on his bottom lip while he pondered over his next words. The male was supposed to be keeping his hands busy by signing and writing the documents that started to pile high up on top of his desk due to Hanji dumping her workload on him. Levi sighed through his nose, fingers massaging his temple. "How long?”

“What?” You tilted your head to the side.

“Tch.” Levi clicked his tongue. “How long do I need to pretend to be your lover?”

Levi swore that the minute he let go of those words, stars danced in your eyes.

"We just need to convince the others.“

"And then?” He asked.

"And then? What. . ?“

Levi internally groaned and rolled his eyes. Was it really worth the risk?

"Are you expecting that we keep the act up?”

Oh, so that is what he meant by it.

"Well,“ you rubbed your chin with your fingers in deep thought. "We could stop the acting after a few weeks? We’ll just tell them we’re too busy and shit that we couldn’t maintain the relationship anymore.”

Levi shrugged. “Sounds good enough to me.”

You squealed in delight as you threw your arms around his neck, showering him with gratitude and compliments.

Looks like black tea does the trick.

The sun already rose from its slumber, showering the lands with its soft rays of light. Levi had a scowl ever-present on his face as soon as he stepped out of his office room. He knew that something was wrong. Something out of place as he sensed the change in the atmosphere of the base that would normally be heavy and tense.

Still, he persisted on shrugging the thought off and continued with his daily morning routine: which is to quickly brew a cup of tea before the mess hall becomes full with people. Levi walked down the halls, a handful of soldiers are already awake and fully clothed with the Survey Corps uniform. They gave him one brief and firm salute as he passed by them. Though, Levi swore that he could hear them whispering amongst themselves.

When the male arrived at the mess hall, he was surprised to see most of the superiors—along with his squad—are mingling with one another at a table. His mind screamed danger, telling his body to turn around and hide in the comforts of his office. However, Levi wasn’t going to give up his morning cup of tea just because he felt uneasy.

He slid inside like a shadow, going unnoticed by most of his friends that was too energetic today for his tastes. They were chatting loudly about miniscule things; the weather, training later on the day, gear inspection that needs to be done, and the like.

Levi wished that he would be overlooked, that their banter would be noisy enough that he could peacefully grab a cup of tea and run back to his office. Though that wishful thinking of his soon come crashing down when Hange’s cheery voice called out to him.

“Mornin’ shorty! Come sit here beside us! We already have tea brewed for you!”

Levi internally groaned, gripping the empty cup in his hands tighter. The brunette just had to have an innate sense in locating where Levi is. Reluctantly, he left the porcelain behind and walked towards the table. You were nowhere to be found, which was a huge relief for him since Levi doesn’t want to see your face first thing in the morning.

“What’s with the shit-eating grin?” he took a seat beside Erwin.

“(____) told me something important last night,” Hange wiggled her shoulders.

He narrowed his eyes at her, “What do you mean?”

Levi heard Erwin laughing beside him, the blond’s shoulders bouncing up and down. He then placed one palm on top of Levi’s shoulder.

“Congratulations, Levi! Didn’t knew you were engaged.“

Hold the fuck up. What?

Then it dawned on him. He remembered you outside his office in the wee hours of the morning, begging him to play along with your petty bullshit just for the sake of preserving your dignity among your peers.

Levi couldn’t believe that he would start acting right away. He haven’t had a sip of his morning tea.

“Yeah,” he said, eyeing the cup of tea that Eld placed in front of him. Levi doubts that any of them could perfectly brew tea that would meet his standards.

“What?” Oluo joined in the conversation. “So it’s true then?”

Levi grumbled, taking a sip of the leaf infused hot liquid. He relished the dark and malty taste of it sliding down his esophagus before responding. “Any problem with that?”

The male shifted in his seat, “N-no, sir… Just that I am shocked.”

“We all are,” Erwin chuckled. “We never expected it.”

“You are a man of a few words, after all.” Petra added. “Still, we are happy for you, captain!”

Levi stayed silent, if he knew that by accepting your bribery would open Pandora’s box of headache and irritation in his life, then he wouldn’t have agreed to it. Still, he was hopeful that only those close to him are informed of the arrangement. That you wouldn’t go so far as to spread the news around the base.

Scratch that. Everyone knew that Levi is your fiancé.

By the time midday rolled around, Levi was the center of attention much to his displeasure. Of all the years he had served in the military, never did he expect that one small arrangement done at two a.m. would have dire consequences.

All for the black tea. Levi chanted in his mind. Dealing with this bullshit for a box full of expensive black tea.

Whispers could be heard, though he paid no attention to it, dead set on finding you to ask what in the ever-loving fuck is going through your brain for letting everyone know.

Ah, speak of the devil. There you are, by the horses’ stables. Your hands reaching up to caress the nose of your horse, a giggle escaping your lips as its tongue darted out to tickle you.

“(____),” he called out.

You whipped your head around to the sound. Then your smile grew wider as you saw it was Levi.

“Hey!” you replied while wiping your wet hand on a towel. “What’s up?”

The male groaned, you are too casual about it.

“Care to explain why does everyone in the base knew that we are engaged?” The word rolled off his tongue like venom. “I thought it was only Hanji and Petra?”

Your smile wavered down, replaced by a bashful one. “Well uhh-…you see. Hanji kind of started the rumors which quickly spread like wildfire.”

“So it’s not my fault,” you threw your hands up.

Levi sighed exasperatedly. He should’ve known that the source would be four eyes. The brunette had caused more trouble than Levi could count within his fingers. He recounted countless times where she knocked on death’s door willingly when Hange placed her head inside a titan’s mouth. Who does that?

A maniac with a death wish, and that is what Hange is.

“Never mind that,” you trailed off, motioning the male to come closer. He rolled his eyes before obliging. “I have a plan that could finally get Hange off the radar,” you continued.

“And that would be?”

You looked side by side, eyes scanning the surroundings in case someone is eavesdropping. Once you considered the coast was clear, you told Levi the plan. “Hanji would be dropping off a stack of paperwork later this evening.”

Levi doesn’t already like where this is going.

“We could pretend to have sex in your office, loud enough for her to hear it. That for sure would convince her.”

You wanted to do what now?

“Wait, hold on.” Levi shook his head, slowly trying to digest your words. “You want us to have sex?”

“We’re not really going to do it!” you slapped his shoulder blades. “Just create some noise and thuds here and there to make it seem like we are doing it.”

The male internally groaned before hesitantly agreeing with your plan. If it means that this stupid fabrication of a relationship would be done, he’d follow suit.

You could hear the loud pounding of your heart inside your ribcage as you sat on one of the chairs in Levi’s office. Patiently, waiting for the fated moment where Hange would be knocking on the door. Butterflies flew around in your stomach, you couldn’t believe that Levi would actually cooperate with the stupid plan you had just conjured up at a moment’s notice.

The thought of him moaning and grunting made your core burn with desire. As much as you want to calm yourself, you couldn’t help but stir up images and scenes in your mind as to how Levi would look like while having sex. You don’t know which was a better view: him on top of you or you riding him.

Heat rushed to your cheeks at the thought. Why does he have to be so goddamn sexy that you couldn’t resist the man?

“Oi,” Levi called out to you. Though, his eyes never left the paper in his hands as he scanned it. “Quiet down will you? Your foot tapping against the floor irritates me.”

Oh, it was a mindless action of yours when you get too nervous. By bouncing your legs up and down, it helps you calm down and ignore the growing pit of anxiety in your stomach. Nonetheless, you mumbled a quick apology to the male then resorted to fumbling with the collars of your uniform.

Soon enough, you heard the soft humming of Hange outside, her footsteps increasing in sound as she draws near the door. You and Levi looked at each other, it was showtime.

You abruptly stood up, arms flailing around as you glanced between the male and the door. Wait, what do you need to do again? And why is Levi still sitting in his chair and not doing anything?

“Levaii!” Hange knocked. “I got more paperwork for you!”

The doorknob rattled, but you instantly had the metal in your grasp in attempts to keep the female out of the room.

“Huh…?” you could hear Hange utter. “Levi?”

In a panicked state, your mind blanked out as words fail to escape your lips. You shot a pleading look to Levi, to which he rose a brow.

Help me you bitch! You mouthed.

He shot you a confused look. It’s your plan, do it, the male mouthed back.

You gulped down your saliva, shaky hands gripping the doorknob tighter as the brunette jostle it. Time seemed to stop as you suddenly remember one hole in the plan. One important thing that you have overlooked that could potentially blow your cover.

You don’t know how to moan.

A soft whine emanated from your throat. The things you have to do just to preserve your dignity.

“DON’T COME IN! WE’RE uh-… WE’RE HAVING SEX!” you shouted on top of your lungs, too distressed to rethink your words all over again. But now it was too late.

“W-what?” Hange’s voice was muffled by the wooden door.

“Levi. Moan. Now.” You whispered, practically begging the male for his help.

“Why do I have to moan?” he stood up and made his way around the desk to approach you.

“JUST-… Just create one sexual sound! A grunt, a moan, a whine! I don’t care. Just make a sound.”

Levi shot you an irked expression, his nose crinkling up. It’s not that he doesn’t know how to moan (unlike a certain someone), but because he had the initial thought that you would be moaning and Levi would be just hitting the wooden desk over and over again to elicit sex noises. Still, he felt his heart strings being pulled as he looked at your eyes with tears threatening to fall out of them. Your tearducts filled to the brim with the salty liquid. Levi would be a good guy for once, right?

He would surely regret his future actions. Big time.

With a sigh, the male pulled you along with him to the couch. His hands guiding your hips to sit on top of his lap whilst he smashed his lips with yours. Air got caught in your throat as Levi’s hands roamed around—exploring every inch of your body—while his mouth moved in attempts to get yours to move also. You never expected that he would be pressing his lips against yours in a heated dance—a wet one at that matter. Levi’s tongue kept darting and swiping at your bottom lip, which was an oddly delightful sensation that it makes you want to—

“Hngghh…”

Moan.

Your hands curled up, clutching Levi’s shirt and wrinkling it up in the process. Pleasure clouded your mind as hormones took over your system. Testing the waters, you opened your mouth—just a slight—so that his pink muscle could enter your wet cavern. And heavens above, it was such a blissful experience.

Levi exhaled into the kiss to which the air slightly ticked your cheeks. He used one hand to bring your head closer to his so that he could taste more of you, while the other started peeling the jacket off of you, going just past your shoulder blades. A quiet moan slipped past your lips once again.

“Okay, I call bullshit. I am entering,” Hange announced, prying open the doors only to gasp loudly upon seeing the scene before her. “OH. YOU WERE SERIOUS?”

Levi broke away to glare at the brunette, “Tch. Do you mind? Four eyes?”

You are in such a daze that you find yourself staring at Levi’s lips. In that brief moment, you already missed the feeling of his mouth against yours.

The female blinked, too stunned as she stared at the both of you. One powerless lieutenant, with your first few buttons undone and jacket slipping down, sitting on Levi’s lap. Your lower area flush against the male’s ever-growing erection. Not to mention the bewildered expression that you have with a lewd undertone. Hange swore that she saw a string of saliva between yours and Levi’s lips.

“Ah yes. I’ll just place these here, no biggie. Hehe.” The brunette let out an awkward laugh, placing the stacks of paper in the corner of the room. “Have fun you two!”

That said, Hange left the room. Her steps were heavy against the cobblestone floor as she rushed away from the vicinity. A grin on her face as she thought of spreading the news that you and Levi are doing at the moment in his room. Not even minding that she lost the bet with you since you had proved to her that indeed the captain is capable of love. A juicy information such as this is worth half of her salary for the month.

Levi brought your attention to him by kissing you once again. This time, with more force as he pried your mouth open once again with his tongue alone. It was a slippery battle; one-sided, in fact, considering that you weren’t fighting back. You simply let him wrestle with your tongue, yours and his saliva mixing in the process.

Damn, you really couldn’t hold your moan in this time.

“Would you look at that?” Levi pulled away. “You know how to moan, after all.”

You swore, the tips of his lips curled upwards in a small smirk and there was a dark glint in his eyes.

“Wh-Wha—” you were a loss for words. “What did you—…What was that?”

“It’s a kiss, dumbass.”

“That’s not what I meant! Y-your tongue—”

He rose a brow at you. “What about it?”

You sealed your mouth shut, heat rushing to your face in embarrassment. “Just… just don’t do that again.”

Levi kept a firm grip on your waist as you wriggled. “Shut up, you obviously liked it. You even opened your mouth.”

“Did not!”

“Then why did you moaned into the kiss?”

You suck in a breath, cat catching your tongue.

“Though so…” he murmured, diving into your neck to pepper it with light kisses. Head too filled with pleasure, you gripped his shirt in your closed fists as you let out one shaky breath. It takes all of your nerves just to swallow that one moan threatening to come out.

“Hng- Levi. You could stop now, Hange saw us already.”

He hummed, pulling back slightly to gaze into your eyes. There was a hint of lust hidden within his silver orbs. You gulped, finding yourself wrapped around his fingers.

“Why won’t we make your lie come true?” Levi sunk his teeth in your neck.

Guess who is getting laid tonight.

#attack on titan #shingeki no kyojin #aot #snk #levi #levi x reader #captain levi #levi ackerman #levi ackerman x reader #aot x reader #snk x reader #reader insert #asters fics

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yamigooops · 3 years

Text

Break My Heart

pairing: oikawa x gn!y/n genre: pure angst warnings: just angst really, I just wanted to write something sad lol words: ~2k

“Tell me you've never loved me Tell me that it wasn't real Just say you've found somebody else I wanna know the way it feels (Break my heart)” - Break My Heart by Hey Violet

a/n - time to break all your hearts, this had me tearing up while writing so hopefully it does the same to you so I'm not the only one hurting >:')

You were done, you’d had more than enough. You lay in bed, alone, for the fourth night in a row, waiting for your boyfriend of two and a half years to come home, and you were sick of it. Reaching over to turn on the light beside the bed, you picked up your phone to check the time. Almost 2 am. He should have been home an hour ago at the very latest.

With a huff, you threw the sheets off your body, sitting up. You rested your forehead in your hands, elbows braced against your knees. What else could you do? You’d told him so many times you’d lost track that he needed to try harder, that you needed more from him if this relationship was going to work. But he always brushed you off, assuring you that things would get better.

But they weren’t.

You sent a text to your best friend, knowing they’d be up at this time anyway, and asked if you could come to spend the night. You wanted him to know how it felt to go to fall asleep in an empty bed, just like you had done so often lately. Receiving an affirmative text from your friend, you rose and started to pack a bag for tomorrow.

Your mind raced. Did he even want to be in this relationship anymore? Did you? He had been putting in the minimum effort as of late, spending the vast majority of his time at training or going out with his friends and teammates. It seemed he had more time for everyone other than you, and you weren’t sure you could take it anymore. You almost wanted him to end it, almost wanted to get in a fight about it just to have him show anything other than nonchalance about the situation.

You had been so lost in your thoughts you hadn’t heard him come in, unaware of his presence until he opened the bedroom door. “Y/N? What are you doing up so late?” The smooth silk of his voice shocked you in the silence of the room, making you whirl around to face him.

There he was, Oikawa, in all his glory. His tanned skin bore a sheen of sweat, and his chocolate hair was mussed, from the wind or something else you had no clue. He looked worn out, though that could have been from practice or going out to the club. You wouldn’t know, since this was the first you’d seen of him since he left this morning to go to practice.

You clutched the sweatshirt you were holding to your chest, subconsciously shrinking back from the tall man. You weren’t expecting him to come home until after you had left, now it would be all that much harder to leave. “Um, hi Oikawa,” you muttered, taking a deep breath. “I’m going over to Y/F/N’s place for the night.” You were surprised you got the words out, almost caving at the thought of getting to spend even a little time with your boyfriend, even if it was at two in the morning.

“Why would you do that?” He cocked his head, looking genuinely confused. A small pout formed on his features, and you could tell he was genuinely a bit upset about it.

“Well, I-“ you broke off, not knowing what to say. “We were talking, and they invited me over, and since you weren’t back yet I thought I would go,” you lied. You weren’t sure why you did though, the angry part of you said you should have just told him flat out that you were upset with him. But the peacemaker in you won out, unwilling to cause a fight where it wasn’t necessary.

“But it’s a weeknight, why wouldn’t you just wait until the weekend? Don’t you have work in the morning?” He set his gym bag down on the bed, unzipping it to remove his dirty clothes from practice.

You gulped, mind flying as you came up with a cover. “They, uh, they’re having a bit of a breakdown right now, I was going to go over help them calm down.” You resumed packing your bag, placing each article of clothing inside carefully as you felt his eyes on your back.

“C’mon,” he whined. “I feel like I’ve barely seen you all week, can’t you just stay? We can cuddle. Usually, you’re asleep by the time I get home, so I’ve been missing out.” The pout was back in full force as he came up behind you to snake his arms around your midriff. He placed a kiss on the back of your head before resting a cheek on your hair.

“Yeah, we’ve barely seen each other all week,” you reiterated, something igniting in your chest. “And whose fault would that be?” The words came out before you could stop them, sharp as knives.

He stiffened against you, arms loosening. “Y/N, I have practice every day but Sundays, you know that,” he replied, a bit defensively.

You pulled out of his grasp, picking up your bag and placing it on the bed. “Yeah, and what about when your practice is over? Hmm? Where do you go then? From 6 to 2 in the morning?” You couldn’t stop the anger from bubbling over, your chest burning with it. Now that you’ve started, you couldn’t stop yourself. “Are you just hanging out with your friends instead of your girlfriend? Are you going out to the clubs?” Your tone was pure venom as angry tears welled in your eyes. Dropping your voice to a whisper, you hissed out the last thought in your mind. “Are you seeing someone else?”

He gaped at you, lips parted and eyes wide as he comprehended what you had said. “Am I- what?!” His voice raised at the end in indignation. “You think I’m cheating on you? You think that’s the kind of man I am?”

“What else am I supposed to think when I’ve gone to bed alone for the last four nights in a row?” You cried, tears blurring your vision. “Torū, I’ve barely seen you at all this week, tell me you wouldn’t be suspicious too!”

He froze, eyebrows coming together slowly. “No, I don’t think I would be,” he defended. “I have quite a bit of faith in you, and it hurts me to know that you have so little in me.” His voice cracked slightly on the last word. You brought your hands up to press the heels into your eyes, hoping to do something to relieve the pressure building behind them.

“My point isn’t to call you a cheater, Torū, all I meant by that was that I have no idea what you’re out doing because you don’t talk to me!” Your voice grew thick with emotion, face growing flush as you raised your arms up to clasp your forearms above your head, eyes still screwed shut.

“Y/N, I’ve just been spending time with the team, that’s all,” he replied exasperatedly, and you heard the soft thump of his clothes falling into the hamper. “I’m sorry if I haven’t been spending enough time with you, but there are other important people in my life besides you!”

His words left you silent, and you opened your eyes to look at the ceiling, head tilting back slightly. The lump in your throat grew, making it unbearable to swallow back the tears that slipped from the corners of your eyes.

“If they’re all so important,” you whispered, “then maybe you don’t need me anymore.” You released your arms, letting them fall to your sides as you came to meet his gaze. The sight almost shattered your heart.

He looked at you like a lost child, mouth agape and hands clenching and unclenching at his sides. Were those tears in his eyes? You couldn’t tell from the distance between you. He reached up to run a hand through his hair, letting it rest on the back of his neck. “So… what are you saying Y/N? Hmm? Because I’m not sure at this point,” he breathed, eyes meeting yours and filled with emotion.

You took a moment to get your thoughts in order before responding. “I guess what I’m saying is-” you hesitated, unsure if you should continue. Could you continue with this relationship? Were you happy with him anymore? “I want you to break my heart. It’s already on its last leg and I just need you to cut the last strings because I don’t think I can do it by myself.”

There was a look of pure agony in his eyes. His hands went limp at his sides, and his shoulders fell. “Y/N I-” His voice cracked with emotion. “I don’t think I can do that." He took a step toward you, then another, until he stood just a few inches away, looking like he wanted to wrap his arms around you but refraining. “Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”

All you wanted was rest your head against his chest, cry into the soft fabric of his shirt and act like you were still in love with him. But you couldn’t, not anymore. “I was scared that if I talked to you about it, then that would make it real,” you whispered into the space between, eyes stuck on the collar of his shirt and unable to meet his.

There was a pause, silence overcoming the two of you and thickening the air around you. You could practically hear his brain working to come up with a response that wouldn’t kill you, and you almost broke and fell against him. But you didn’t, couldn’t.

“I don’t think I could ever bring myself to break your heart,” he murmured, words smooth and soft. “But if you need me to cut whatever ties you have left, I’ll do it, even though it kills me. Whatever you need, I’ll do, even if it means I have to lose you.”

It was then that you gathered the courage to meet his eyes, and the moment you did you regretted it. Tears slid down his angled face, shining in the soft light of the lamp. Your heart crumpled, nearly unable to handle the fact that you were doing this to him.

You allowed yourself to reach up and rest your hands on his cheeks. “I’m so sorry,” your thumbs ran beneath his eyes in a useless attempt to wipe away his sadness. “I never want to hurt you, but this just isn’t working anymore, and my heart can’t take it. I’m sorry.”

He leaned down to rest his forehead against yours, eyes shut, and lower lip drawn between his teeth. His hands came to rest lightly on your hips, fingers wrapping into the material of your shirt. “I know, I know,” he assured you softly. “Things haven’t been the best between us lately, I know that now, but still-” Your hands snaked around his neck, effectively pulling him closer. His lips came to press against your forehead, and the feeling almost made you melt into him. “I’ll always love you Y/N, but if you need me to cut ties, I’ll cut them.”

The feeling of his breath against your skin brought on a fresh wave of tears as you nodded. “Thank you, Torū,” you murmured, fingers running through the short hair at the nape of his neck. “Thank you for everything, I mean it.”

He sighed, pulling you against his chest as his arms encircled you fully. “I know, Y/N, you’re welcome.”

consider buying me a coffee for exclusive writing

#haikyuucafe #THERE YOU GO #I HOPE I DESTROYED YOUR HEART #oikawa x y/n #oikawa angst #oikawa toru #oikawa toru angst #oikawa toru fic #haikyuu #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu angst #haikyuu fic #angst #mine #my post #100

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littlemisslipbalm · 4 years

Text

“harry’s stylist, right?” part II

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

this gif bc i couldn’t fine the fit i wanted to showcase, but that night him and y/n get closer than they had gotten before :))

and we’re back :) - this is the last part of this i may do some little blurbs and stuff about these two if people want it (maybe) i hope you all enjoy this part, it’s not proofread so sorry about that lol. Feedback and reblogs are so very very appreciated, also feel free to message me about you’re feelings about this

Word Count: just over 10k | Warnings: swearing, alcohol consumption, implication of smut, i think that’s it

part 1

After the call with Jeff, which wasn’t really a conversation at all, moreso a berating from him, she was in the worst mood. She shrugged off the Bode jacket and hung it up in her entryway closet. She wasn’t planning on wearing it ever again. Without the jacket on, her shirt that seemed to be exactly on the nose with it’s “we’re in the shit” graphic was clear and she untucked it from her light mint pants. She was exhausted, both physically and mentally. Instead of picking her phone up again, she decided she could do without communication for a while. Her feet padded to her bedroom, after removing her nikes and socks. In her bedroom she opened up her record player, wanting music, but not wanting to be bothered with her laptop since it had a connection to the internet.

She grabbed her Electric Warrior by T. Rex and slipped out the first record from its sheath. As she set up the music, she couldn’t remember where she’d even gotten the record but for some reason it had called to. She skipped over Mambo Sun, the first track, though, and had it play Cosmic Dancer first. It was calming to her, she swayed a bit to the soothing beat and then climbed into her bed. Staring at the ceiling, she wondered about when her life had gotten so complicated. The rhythm in the music and the exhausting thought material lulled her to sleep as the afternoon sun washed her room a perfect golden from behind her shade.

When she woke up again, it was midnight and she was starving. The record had stopped spinning hours ago, she hadn’t even gotten through side A. It was forgotten as she made her way to her kitchen, groggily.

After settling on cereal and an alcoholic seltzer for dinner, she was really in the mood to treat herself, she made her way back to her living space. On the couch, she tucked her legs beneath herself and spooned the sugary food into her mouth. She had only soy milk in the place because she didn’t like cow’s milk and it didn’t keep when she was gone for extended periods of time. Then as she sipped from the black cherry White Claw, she dug her hand into the cushion next to her. Her hand reemerged with her discarded phone from earlier. She decided it was reasonable to go on it now.

More messages from various people in her life and hundreds of social media notifications. She was going to ignore social media for as long as she possibly could. Four missed calls. 2 voicemails. Styles Harry. Why she kept contacts backwards in her phone was unimportant, it’s just what she did.

She sighed and took a bigger sip of the barely alcoholic drink. Then clicked the voicemail notifications and pressed the first one on speaker as she began to read his texts as well. Then the next voicemail. She checked the time in California, it was still a reasonable part of the day there so instead of texting back she rang him.

“Hello?”

“Har- H. Hi.”

“Y/N! Are you alright?” The concern apparent in his tone. She was taken aback. He hadn’t necessarily sounded angry in his texts or voicemails, but she just assumed he was being courteous since it was a live conversation.

“You’re not mad at me?”

“No! Why would I be?”

“Because I just had my ass handed to me by Jeff earlier.” She slightly mumbled and shrugged, still upset with how she had been spoken to by Jeff.

“Oh gosh, I told him not to be harsh. It’s honestly not a big deal. I thought it was fine, you texted me too!”

“Yeah, well apparently wearing your clothes means we’re dating and that’s not cool in the world’s eyes,” you scoff.

“I know how much you like that coat...I thought you looked great in it, too.” He finishes in a slight whisper, not wanting to be overheard.

“Harry…” you can’t keep the smile off your face. It was a cute compliment even if the situation wasn’t ideal. “Why do your fans have to be so smart and know there’s only two of those coats in the world and I don’t own the other one.”

He laughs, blushing at how you said his name. This time not using his nickname didn’t bother him, it felt even more intimate somehow.

He rubs a hand through his hair, “I know, pesky little devils, gotta love’em, though”

She hums, not sure if she can agree about loving them right now since they’re probably eating her alive all over social media.

“So you’re alright, darling?” He asks again.

“Mhmm,” she pauses at the pet name, it was soothing right now. All she wanted was to curl into his chest, but he was half a world away, quite literally. His words would have to do in his absence. “I’m really glad you’re not mad at me, H. That would’ve made this a hundred times worse.”

He huffs, wishing he could be with her to comfort her. He hated this part of his life. A friend couldn’t borrow a piece of his clothing without everyone assuming that they were seeing each other. It was disgusting and it made him dislike tabloids and social media even more than he already did.

“Trust me. I’d never be mad at you, pet. And I’d definitely never be mad at you for looking good as fuck in my clothes.”

“Shut up!” She squeals, his tone turning from earnest to teasing in one breath. He cackles on the other end of the line because despite her mean words, he could hear the smile on her lips.

“When are you flying back to London?” Her voice grows quiet again after she takes another sip of her drink.

“Thursday,” he almost whispers back, having contained his mirth again.

“We have some work to do on your Graham Norton and Jingle Bell Ball outfits. The listening party ones are all picked up -”

“Y/N,” Harry cuts her off, “It’s late for you, go to bed. Try not to stress out too much, we’ll talk when I’m back about work. For now, take a few days off to not think about my clothes.”

She sighs, “Thanks, H. You’re right. Have a good rest of your day.”

“Goodnight, m’love.”

She ends the phone call and chalks the almost ‘my’ sounding syllable that she heard before love was just her tired mind and Harry’s mumbling voice. It most certainly wasn’t.

After a restful few days of doing absolutely nothing, something rare for Y/N, she was extremely well rested. So much so that she was peacefully asleep when Harry let himself into her flat since they had agreed to meet at her place when he got back to London. As much as he wanted her to take time off and not over work herself, his schedule was a busy one and now that he was back, they had work to do.

Inside her flat, he was greeted with silence. He made his way to her bedroom at the back of the flat. He’d been here a handful of times. She always told him she preferred to spread out when she worked and Harry’s was the place for that. The door to the bedroom was slightly ajar and he pushed it open slowly with his ring clad hand. His black nails are freshly painted and shiny, no chips. Still in her bed, Y/N shifted around softly. He smiled to himself, taking in how the room smelled over lavender and how she had pink floral sheets. He walked to the window and raised the shade, hoping to have her wake up without and coaxing from him.

“H,” her voice mumbles into her pillow and he thinks she’s woken up. His face turns to look at her, but her eyes are still closed and she looks completely asleep. He wonders if she’s trying to trick him, but then she mumbles again.

“Mhhh, tha’ tickles,” and she giggles. He kind of grimaces, feeling like he shouldn’t be hearing this. He hadn’t known she spoke in her sleep, it was sweet, but with the context right now, he thought him having this knowledge might not sit well with her.

“Y/N,” he says loudly, before clearing his throat. Her eyes shoot wide and she sits up, dropping the sheet she had been snuggling.

“Harry! Oh my god!”

“Meeting, remember?”

“Oh my god,” she glances around her surroundings, Harry still standing at her window. “What time is it?”

“1 pm. We said 1 right?”

“We did, I just...I don’t know what happened. Sorry, give me a second. I’m out of it.”

When she emerged from her room, dressed and ready for the day, Harry had brewed a pot of coffee with her machine that she really only had for guests.

“Sorry again,” she sits at her countertop, searching for her notebook in her bag.

“No worries,” then he leans across the countertop, “Seemed like you were in the middle of a nice dream.”

His brows are raised as she avoids his gaze. She flushes easily, “I- it was...just one of those usual dreams.”

“You have dreams about me often?”

“I didn’t say that!” Her eyes shoot up to meet his and he grins. He takes a sip of his coffee before speaking again.

“I heard you say ‘H’.”

She rolls her eyes, “That proves nothing.”

They both stare at each other for a minute, not talking or moving. Harry is simply grinning at her as she twitches her hand with her pen in it now. Her eyes are trying to figure out what Harry’s getting at, searching his expression for how he feels about knowing she dreams of him. She certainly wasn’t going to get into it with him, even if he did continue prodding.

“Alright,” she begins when he doesn’t seem to want to press it further. “Oh!” She jumps up, dropping her pen and forgetting about whatever else she was going to say. “Your jacket! And shirt! I cleaned the shirt and the jacket…” She runs out of the room to go to her front closet where she had hung up both the jacket and the shirt.

Returning, she holds them out to Harry and he rounds the countertop to look at them.

“Perfect shape,” he admires the spotless shirt and his beloved jacket. He puts them on the back of the chair that was next to them. “Won’t forget my jacket again.”

She smiles sheepishly, thinking back to Jeff’s conversation with her. Harry notices her change in demeanor and takes one of her hands. Her eyes flash up to his face and her body tenses, he feels it even in her hand.

“Have you gone on any social media since you’ve been home?” His eyes are wide as he runs his thumb over the back of her hand.

She softens slightly, “Oh yeah, after the first day I decided to check. Most were funny and sweet, their nasty comments didn't get to me.”

Her eyes are big on her face and Harry watches as her worries and concerns all wash through the swirling colors in them. He wants to take all of that pain away and just stare into her abyss forever.

“What did Jeff say exactly?” He knows that’s what she’s alluding to. Harry loved his manager, but when he had called him about the jacket incident he had been pretty short with Harry and hadn’t given much information on his chat with Y/N. The way she looked right now bothered him because ultimately Harry was in charge of Y/N in his employment of her and if Jeff had acted like her superior in a way that was harmful he’d be downright upset.

Her eyes grow glassy immediately and Harry’s anger begins to bubble in the pit of his stomach. She tries to blink anything away, but fails.

“I don’t know why I’m crying, it wasn’t terrible. It’s just, all my life, I’ve had to work to be taken seriously because of who I am and I hate when I get talked down to by a man. Especially over a stupid fucking publicity thing for you. Like I’m sorry, but I don’t see you as a public figure where I have to worry about every goddamn thing I do messing up your image.” She pauses, taking a deep breath, realizing she’d gotten really worked up as she spoke. The tears running down her face more in anger than sadness. Harry watches on, letting her work through her thought process. “He was just so mean… for what?” She whispers finally.

“Oh god…darling,” Harry grips her hand more firmly. He wants to take her in his arms, but he’s not sure if that’s what’s best for her right now, so he just keeps holding her hand. She stares up at him, blowing a piece of hair out of her face. Her eyes now tinted a light red.

“I’m sorry he spoke to you in that way. That isn’t his job at all, I’ll definitely talk to him since I didn’t have the full story before. He gets very worried about the media perception thing, especially right now with the album.”

She bites the inside of her cheek, blinking up at Harry. “I know your image is important, too, otherwise why the fuck would I be here? Right? I just don’t think it’s that big of a deal I borrowed the jacket.”

“In a perfect world my image wouldn’t matter at all,” Harry sighed, “Fame is a stupid, fickle thing musicians like me get stuck with.”

“Please, you love the attention,” she teases, poking at his chest. The sweatshirt he wore wrinkling under her touch.

“‘M serious,” he insists, “I’m saying it shouldn’t matter that you borrowed my jacket, but sadly it comes across to the rest of the world like I’m dating you.” He pokes her sternum in return.

“And that would be the end of the world?” she smiles, her tone still teasing, but that worry is back and swimming in her eyes again.

This time, though, Harry must not see it because he laughs and lets go of her hand. “For a lot of people, I think it might be.”

She bites at her lip and tries to contain the laugh that bubbles in her. He was right and as he wandered back into the kitchen for more coffee, she shook her head trying to rid herself of those pesky feelings that had been hoping for a different answer.

The next few weeks go off without a hitch. Harry’s outfits look incredible for the listening parties. Then for the Graham Norton Show, the Jingle Bell Ball, and the One Night Only at the Forum. Every single outfit is received with praise and everything seems to be coming up Harry Styles. Y/N has been traveling to most of his appearances, making sure everything is in order before he goes out. She’s always by his side before he walks out into the public eye. Taking his picture and saving it in the lookbook that keeps growing, smoothing over his lapels, either unbuttoning or buttoning a middle button when she thought he had too many or not enough undone for the look. Whatever it was, she was there for him.

Then, after his appearances, they would debrief. Debriefs really were just time that Harry carved out in his schedule to just be alone with Y/N. Sure, they talked about clothes, that’s how they had first connected, but it always turned to other ideas. They’d talk about his songs and she’d ask about the meanings that he wouldn’t share with the rest of the world. He’d happily tell her about it and they enjoyed that time together. There were stolen glances and lingering touches, but at the end of the day they were professionals who were friends. It wasn’t maybe what either of them wanted, but they weren’t unhappy.

Harry just got back from Los Angeles after filming for his Ellen show appearance and he was set to play the Bowery Ballroom tomorrow in London. After this there was going to be a lot of downtime on Harry’s schedule because of the holidays. He had marked out almost a whole month of time off, at least from appearances. They still had to start planning tour outfits and finalize the outfits for the events after the break. Right now, all she was focused on was getting Harry into the beautiful yellow Gucci suit that was a twin of the Watermelon Sugar suit he had worn on Saturday Night Live. Harry said he wanted to check the suit before tomorrow for some reason, so Y/N had made her way over.

She finished buttoning the sleeves of the jacket and stepped back to admire Harry once again. No matter what he wore he always looked marvelous in her eyes. She’d argue anyone could say that about Harry though. He could pull anything off and make it his own with barely any effort.

Today, his hair was disheveled and mused from his plane ride back into London. The flight from California to England was a rough one, even when you traveled in the type of luxury Harry did. Despite his tired body and eyes, the suit looked stunning on him. He wore it without shoes and she giggled when she saw his feet. His feet tattoos never failed to make her laugh and she had no explanation for why.

While Harry looked good in everything, there actually was something a little off with the suit right now. Normally, it hugged him just right to make him look perfectly muscled and defined, but it seemed to be hanging a little looser in some areas.

She tapped a finger to her lip, looking him over, unsure of what was off.

“Did you lose weight, H?”

“Huh?” He looks down at himself and somewhat notices the looser fit, but wasn’t quite sure if he had lost weight. “Don’t think so.”

She hums and steps closer to him, dropping her hands to tug at various parts of the suit, trying to figure out whether she should take anything in or leave it be.

“It’s probably all the travel I’ve been doin’. Can be draining me more than I realize.” He ponders as she continues to work silently over the suit.

Her hands travel beneath the suit and encircle his waist, almost as if she’s hugging him, but not really. His stomach flexes at the contact, her chest pressed softly against his. She grips a bit of the shirt from the back and then unfolds herself from him to look at the mirror. The shirt is now taut against his sternum and pectorals under the coat. She tilts her head, silently asking him his opinion.

“I think it’s fine the way it is, honestly.”

“Okay,” she nods and releases her hold on the shirt, hand slithering out from beneath his coat. He exhales deeply through his nose. “Make sure you eat properly tonight.” She says before beginning to pack up her things, done for the day. Harry begins to undress himself.

She turns back to face him as he hands her the jacket and shirt, her eyes run over the length of his torso, both for the sake of checking on his health and for other purely selfish reasons. All the tattoos still remained where they always were when she saw him like this. It never got old, his beautiful body. He didn’t even need clothes to look good. She blinks back to reality when the fabric comes in contact with her hand.

“Make sure you treat yourself this holiday season, you deserve it, H. And it seems like any weight you ever gain is muscle anyways, so you don’t exactly have to worry around the sweets table.”

Harry laughs heartily as he slips on his long sleeve shirt he was wearing. Then he starts on the pants as she turns away again to hang up the top parts of the suit.

Finally, she adds when he hands her the suit pants, “Just don’t want you overworking yourself, seriously, H.”

He looks at her as he buttons up his baggy blue jeans. The outfit he wore was just the first clean things he had grabbed when he had gotten home. His green eyes turn serious after the mirthfilled last few moments.

He crosses to her side as she puts away the clothes in the garment bag. His hand lands softly on her shoulder and she turns to him at his touch. “I know. You’re so good to me, darling. Always making sure I’m taking care of myself…”

It’s quiet. The soft breeze in the London air outside barely whispers around the house. Harry’s voice was laced with love, even if it wasn’t his intention. His ‘thank you’ was piercing into her heart and his touch wasn’t helping her stay focused. Her breath caught in her throat when she felt Harry take a step closer to her, his head ducking slightly down to her level. Then, right on the edge of her left temple and her hairline, his soft lips pressed against her skin. They brushed against her for just a moment, lingering for the respectful amount of time. But all she wanted was anything but respectful. She wanted his lips pressed against hers, she wanted his hands in her hair, yanking her deeply into him. She wanted to scream when he pulled away, but she didn’t. She smiled warmly up at Harry and her eyelashes fluttered on their own accord like a schoolgirl with a crush.

“Thank you,” he whispers again.

“What would you do without me?” She pushes at him playfully, shaking off her giddiness. Then she turns back to her work, scooping up all the items of hers on the table.

“Probably have to walk around naked, huh?”

“Oh my god!” She laughs and starts for the door, Harry follows behind to walk to her out to her car. “Maybe I should quit! People would love it.” She continues laughing as she hangs the garment in the passenger's seat side.

“No thank you, please,” Harry hurriedly says.

She turns to him as she closes the door and leans against the car. This was their routine right before she left, a final chat against the car before she drove off for the night.

“Tomorrow’s going to be amazing, H. It’s gonna be electric!” She scrunches her nose slightly at the pun about the venue as she smiles up at him.

He sticks his tongue into the side of his cheek, holding back a laugh. His eyes narrow at her, slyly. “Very funny.”

She only winks at him before pushing herself off of her car and walks to the driver’s side of the car.

He waves as she begins to pull out of the driveway and she flashes him a peace sign and a mouthed ‘Bye’ when she turns onto the street.

After the Bowery Ballroom show, Y/N barely sees Harry at the after party. She doesn’t worry about it too much. His management was going to have a holiday party next week before the little break began for the team. So, she knew she’d see him before she flew back to see her family for the holidays. She was going home for two weeks and then would be back for New Year’s and then would get back to work after that.

She saw Harry exactly twice after the show. First, she saw Harry right after the show and he was all sweaty and exhilarated. He tackled her in a bear hug with such strength she would have fallen back if he hadn’t been holding her so tightly. When he pulled away, he placed two extremely slobbery kisses on her cheeks and she laughed, tipping her head back in pure bliss. Then he was pulled away by Jeff to change and get ready for the after party.

Jeff had apologized over text about the tone he had taken over the whole jacket thing, but only Harry had told him to. It was fine with Y/N, she told him that too, but she just never felt like being around him for very long if she could help it after that. That’s why she liked that most of her job entailed dealing with Harry directly. If she had to go through Jeff for everything she’d likely pull her hair out. He was still short with her at whole team meetings and not necessarily courteous when they were around each other casually. Like she said, it was fine, she just didn’t make it her business to be around Jeff.

The second time she saw Harry was around half past one am. She was pretty sure it was time for her to uber home and she wanted to say goodbye to Harry. Her well-liquored body stumbled around the big room. Deciding to take shots with the band had gotten her to where she was now and she wasn’t complaining she was happy. She was in a celebratory mood and wanted to see Harry right now. Tell him how much fun she had and how proud she was of him. How much she loved him… Hopefully she kept that part to herself.

“Harry!” She finally exclaims, coming upon a group of people surrounding the star himself. She ignored the rest of the people, likely stars too, but she really couldn’t care less. One of them tried to straighten up as if he was going to block her from Harry, feeling like she maybe wasn’t someone Harry wanted to see since they didn’t know her. No one seemed to ever recognize Y/N as Harry’s stylist when it mattered. Harry waved them off, a little drunk as well, but obviously recognizing Y/N.

“Darling!” He exclaims and raises his arms out to her. She grips onto him quickly and snuggles into him happily. With her still in his arms, he turns them from the prying eyes of the group he had been with.

She raises her head from his warm chest so that her lips are near his ear, “Congratulations, Mr. Styles.”

“Thanks, baby,” he purrs into her ear, his voice coarse and low, carrying over the music. She giggles at the nickname, her entire plan going out the metaphorical window.

Her fingers smooth up over the fabric on his chest, a nice short sleeve silk button down that was tucked into dark high waisted trousers - they’d picked it out last week. One of her fingers begins to trace around his collarbone after she reaches the opening of the shirt. His eyes flutter shut at the contact. They were so needy for each other. Each touch would coarse heat through them every time.

“I’m going…” She says after a moment of silence between them. The party was raging around them, most not paying any mind to the two of them off in their own world.

“Don’t go,” Harry practically begs. A hand flies up to pet over the top of her hair and she smiles even wider.

“It’s late and I’m tired,” she makes a face in response to Harry’s pout, “You have lots of people to entertain, Mr. Styles.” Her teeth capture her bottom lip as she stares at him intently.

He groans and pulls her closer. This time his lips brush right against her ear and she wants to shiver, but he keeps her in place. “If you keep calling me that, you’re gonna drive me insane.”

Her eyes widen but her hazy mind isn’t processing all of what is going on. She barely takes inventory of ‘baby’, for him to say she’s turning him on without actually saying it. Tomorrow Y/N would have to deal with that one.

She pulls back from him, creating space between their chests, but he still holds her waist close to him. She leans up and places a kiss on the corner of his lips. It’s technically supposed to be a kiss on the cheek but if she had moved her lips a millimeter to the right they would have been on Harry’s. This gesture has his grip tightening on her, but she pulls away.

“Goodnight!” She sings as she bounces out of sight, wiggling her fingers in a wave before completely being gone.

Harry sighs and runs a hand over his face, kind of in shock of the last five minutes. He had liked it. He just hadn’t expected it. When he turns his attention back to the group that was behind him, it’s not the same as it was before. Jeff looks at him with narrowed eyes and Harry’s eyes go wide and his grin widens as well.

Tonight is the management holiday party for Harry’s team. Y/N and Harry had seen each other two days after the Electric Ballroom to debrief, but mostly to get brunch. They didn’t talk about the little teases they shared at the after party. Both of them just assumed that the other probably didn’t remember and didn’t want to go through the trouble and embarrassment of recounting it. Alcohol has that effect of making you a little bolder than you actually are.

Brunch with Harry solidified Y/N’s thoughts on fame. Celebrity could be so strange, because there was the one day when she got photographed with just Harry’s jacket on and there was speculation of dating, but then she could go out to brunch with him and not be bothered at all. It made absolutely no sense.

Anyway, tonight there were no gifts, but Y/N had gotten Harry something even though he said he never needs anything. She hoped she’d be able to give it to him after they were walking back to their transportation since she wanted it to be a surprise and not have everyone know she gave him a gift. It wasn’t a big deal - or maybe it was - it was just an item she knew Harry had been fawning over. It was so him and she knew he’d probably end up buying it for himself eventually, but it felt nice to be able to give him something for once. Price didn’t matter. Still, she was a little nervous and tucked and re-tucked it several times in the back seat of her car before heading inside.

It was a restaurant his management had rented out for their party. She gave her name and headed inside. The lighting was overly dimmed and it smelled like expensive alcohol and delicious food. It was everything an A-list singer deserved as a celebration. She never could fully grasp that the Harry she had gotten to know as her friend was also the same Harry that the entire world was infatuated with, for good reason. He was charming in the best way, terribly sincere, insanely talented, and all around a good human being. She knew that, it just surprised her that everyone else knew it too. There was just that disconnect for her that she shared him with the rest of the world.

Her high heeled heels brought her to the backroom of the restaurant. They managed to shimmer even in the dim light. She had gone for winter chic with a sequin and mesh white dress, that looked like fresh snow with a cream and blue swirling design on the under layer so that her undergarments weren’t showing through. It was like a modern ice princess look that was finished with her heels that had sparkles on the entire back of them. Her hair was down and her makeup a little more done up than usual. She used a light blue eyeshadow to imitate ice and added some rhinestones on the inner parts of her eyes. She may have watched a Euphoria-inspired makeup look tutorial on youtube and she wasn’t afraid to admit that.

The scene she came upon was what she expected. Lots of men in suits and a good amount of women in power suits too. The people in any interesting clothes were Harry and his band. Some of the business people’s partners were dressed up more but it all wasn’t too exciting. Plus, Harry’s famous friends group hadn’t shown up yet. Y/N hid her disappointment easily, not surprised about the lack of flavor she saw in the style. She just repeated the mantra her mother had always told her: “You can never be overdressed, only underdressed.” It stuck with her always and made her go for those bolder styles when she needed to.

Harry was there, sipping on a glass of water. She figured he might not want to get started on drinking so early in the evening. Tonight didn’t feel like a drinking night for her either. After the last big party, she had woken up with a massive hangover and a few memories that she wished she hadn’t made. She wasn’t planning on repeating that series of events.

As she goes to grab a glass of water on the large table, she gets a tap on her shoulder. She spins.

“Happy Holidays, darling!”

Her eyes widen and her smile immediately grows. Harry grins back at her, his mouth open in the perfect winning smile of his and his eyes twinkling with happiness.

“Happy Holidays to you too, Mr.-” She stops herself, remembering back to the last party, “H.” She finishes firmly after clearing her throat. Harry’s grin turns to a wicked knowing smirk.

“I’m happy you came! I know you’re not super connected to all of the groups here, Harry Lambert is around somewhere though and I know he’s been wanting to talk with you about clothes.”

Harry watches as her eyes shine even brighter when he mentions the other stylist. It was true, Y/N didn’t really mesh with any of the groups that worked around Harry. The stylist kind of stood alone in regards to where she fit into his life, not the business part, not the band part, not the crew, and not the other celebrities. Harry Lambert and other fashion people didn’t always come to these events so it was seldom that Y/N had her own people to talk to. Not that mingling was hard for her, he just knew she didn’t like to do that as much so whenever another stylist or designer was there he always made sure to introduce them - if they weren’t already acquainted.

“That’s amazing! I haven’t seen him in ages… I’ll have to get his opinion on how I’ve been doing.”

Harry licks his lips as he laughs a little at her comment. She looked beautiful tonight and he wanted to tell her.

“Harry. What the hell are you wearing?” Her eyes flash as she takes in his appearance.

He looks down at himself and then back at her confused. They hadn’t picked the outfit out, but he thought it looked nice.

“Obviously not the suit! On your head?”

“Oh. It’s a gift from Mitch and Sarah.” He pauses to reach up to play with the headband sat on top of his curls. “It’s mistletoe and it seems like you’re standing beneath it. You know what that means,” he toys with it as he wiggles his eyebrows.

She scoffs sarcastically, looking to the side for a means of escape, “No way.”

“C’mon! It’s tradition!” He steps forward playfully and she places a hand on his chest.

“You can kiss my cheek.” She says finally and Harry looks at her disapprovingly.

He wags a finger at her with his free hand, “You’re the one under the mistletoe, you have to kiss me.”

“Okay that’s definitely not how this works! Now you don’t get any kiss at all, you cheeky bastard.”

“Fine. But don’t come crying to me when you’re the one with coal in your stocking.”

“Haha.” Her eyes once again roll to the side as she pushes him back and he steps back like she actually had a strong push. Then they both actually laugh and she gives him a quick side hug with a whispered, “there”. Harry smiles down at her, but it falters slightly when she’s already pulling away. He wanted her at his side the entire night, but sadly that wasn’t reality.

She drags him around the restaurant in search of Harry Lambert since the party had started to grow and she needed his height to get her where she wanted to go. Maybe. Or maybe she just liked the way he held her hand to lead her through the crowd that was most definitely not dense enough for her to have to hold on to him to stay with him at all.

She sees more of Harry at this party. They have some good conversations about plans for the holidays and snickering about who was already too drunk even though it wasn’t even midnight. She can’t believe he keeps on the stupid headband all night, giving and receiving various types of kisses from every person he talks to. Some are kisses on the cheek, others are friendly smooches on the mouth. Thankfully all of them are those cute little pecks that friends always tend to share, otherwise Y/N might have had to excuse herself and leave early. Jealous little thing.

As the night dragged on, she began to question herself on that front. Why was she growing jealous when friends would kiss Harry. She could've kissed Harry. She practically did the other week. But now, after refusing him a mistletoe kiss and seeing everyone else do what she didn’t have the courage to do, she felt childish. Well, childish or not, she knew why she couldn’t kiss him. Kissing Harry wouldn’t be just a friend thing for her. It would mean a lot more and if it was just a friend thing for him she wouldn’t be sure if she could handle going on with their working relationship after. Her job was the most important thing in her life. Being a stylist, loving clothes, and working on personal designs for the future was her life. Giving up this prestigious of a job was out of the question. Maybe the idea of being with Harry had crossed her mind, but she didn’t know how it could ever be realistic. If they got together could she keep her job? Would she have to quit? And find a new one? There were too many unknowns for her to ever actually entertain it. That’s why they went to the edge so often, she always would back away and she was sure that if she didn’t, Harry would for her.

He knew her. He knew her passion, he watches it firsthand everyday they work together. Even when they’re not working he can see her mind forming different ideas just based off of the things she sees people wear on the streets. He watches her fingers fiddle over her phone, typing out notes for design ideas and screenshotting inspiration. So every time they went to the edge of changing their relationship, he knew he couldn’t push it because he never wanted to hurt her or her dreams in some way. She was too important to him to simply mess that up. Even if it hurt him.

So when Harry slides in the back of her car that night at 2 am because Y/N says she has something important to show him, he’s fully ready to stop their flirting from going any further. And when she tells him she needs to show him something, she has the most pure intentions when she pulls out the nicely wrapped box, its wrapping paper a swirling lavender pattern that’s really not festive at all, but she prefers it.

He looks between her and the box that she’s now placed in his lap. His green eyes flickering even in the darkness of the car, the city lights illuminating the backseat enough for them.

“You know I don’t need anything…” He fiddles with the skinny mesh ribbon neatly tied around the box.

She makes a little gesture, pushing him to open the present, “I know, but I also know you’ve been wanting this and you deserve it.”

He unwraps the paper to reveal a Gucci box and he rolls his eyes at her, but smiles genuinely as he lifts the top of the box off. It reveals a 1955 Horsebit Shoulder Bag in beautiful shiny black leather. It’s gorgeous.

“I can’t...I don’t know what to say,” Harry’s eyes are huge as his delicate hands ghost over the bag's details. He had been wanting it and he hadn’t gotten the courage to buy it yet. He liked purses, but sometimes he even had his doubts about what he could pull off.

His eyes go back to her and she smiles widely at him, all her teeth on display because she’s just that happy. “This is a really expensive bag, Y/N.”

“If it makes you feel better I can charge it as a wardrobe expense, but then it’s not really a gift from me,” She sighs at his unrelenting gaze.

“Thank you.” He touches at the bag again and then does a dance in his spot. “And don’t worry, I will always remember this as a gift from you. I love it.”

She smiles and leans over the box to look at the bag, admiring the beauty of it as well. “It’s pretty great.”

“Mhmm,” Harry hums and she raises her eyes, seeing his trained on her face. “You’re under the mistletoe again, darling,” he smirks.

Her breath stops once again, how could he do that to her so easily? Their eyes stay locked under the city lights. The fake mistletoe bobs above them still connected to the silly headband. It’s colorful leaves and fun stripes mock her when she flicks her gaze up to it for a moment. Then back to Harry. Harry who’s holding the gift she just gave him. Harry who looks beautiful tonight. Harry who is her favorite person in the world to spend time with.

Now. Now is when she pulls back from the ledge. This is when she takes a step back and stops herself. When Harry laughs it off. When she pushes him away. When they go about the rest of their day like that electricity hadn’t gone up either of their spines.

But that’s not what happens. Instead, she nods in agreement and then crashes her lips against Harry’s. It’s not like those friend kisses that had happened with him all night under that same mistletoe. It’s hard and hot and fast. Her lips are pressed to his for one searing moment and then she’s biting his lip, desperate to taste more of him. She had been longing for this for so long and now that she had it, she couldn’t let it go.

Harry’s hands fly to her cheeks as he pulls her closer, more into his lap. He pushes the box into the front area of the car blindly. The gift was completely forgotten. This was a far more important matter. Her lips were wet and plush and they tasted like the single Manhattan she had halfway through the night and vanilla lip gloss. When she bites his lip, he can’t hold back the moan inside his throat and she presses her tongue into his mouth quickly. He was her oasis and she had been traveling for months. He responds with similar vigor, enjoying the way her body presses to his in the backseat of this little car.

They kiss for as long as they can. Licking, sucking, and biting each other’s lips to taste as much as they can. But it’s just kissing. Neither of them work to travel anywhere else. Their lips are seemingly enough. Each press of their lips communicates what they had been longing for. It’s euphoric.

When the windows start to fog and her eyes open for a random moment, she realizes they need to cool whatever this is.

“H-Harry,” She gulps for a breath of air and she tries to get his attention. “I gotta get home.”

“Come back to my place,” he mumbles into her collarbone, happily licking over his love bite.

She laughs and swallows slowly, “That is definitely out of the question, I have a flight tomorrow.”

He removes his mouth from her and straightens up. His lips are even brighter pink than usual and perfectly puffy. His hair disheveled from her hands. She blushes at the thought.

“Right, forgot about that,” he opens the car door and they both slide out. They stand at her car, just like they usually did outside his house. However this time is quite different from most.

They sigh heavily, in unison. The winter air is cold in London. She shivers slightly and knows she can’t stay in his presence much longer.

“Merry Christmas, H.”

He leans down and places one last sweet kiss to her lips. She wrinkles her nose and smiles unabashedly.

“Merry Christmas, Darling.”

Harry and her don’t talk as much while she’s back home for the holidays. There’s no work to be discussed and while they parted on not necessarily bad terms, there was definitely a conversation that needed to be had between the two. Neither seemed to want to have that conversation over the phone, or worse, text. So for the next week and a half, Harry and Y/N exchanged texts of funny memes that reminded them of each other and odd anecdotes from family members that had made them laugh. Nothing really substantial, just small, I was thinking of you messages.

When she walked out of the luggage carousel at London Heathrow Airport, she expected to be getting in the queue for an uber. Instead, before she could cross the street to get to the queue even, a tall man stopped her. A tall, scruffy, extremely buff, extremely handsome, and extremely kissable man. Harry. It would be terribly strange if it was anyone else.

“Excuse me, ma’am, do you need a lift back to your flat?” His dark sunglasses cover his face and a big coat, scarf, and hat make him hardly recognizable. The curls sticking out from beneath the cute knit scarf are thankfully a dead give away for her. As well as his perfect drawling voice.

She shivered in the cold, her matching grey sweatpants and Treat People With Kindness sweatshirt had been warm enough on the flight, but proved inadequate for almost January in London. Yet, Harry’s presence brings a smile to her face.

“It’s good to see you, H.”

He laughs, his cover obviously blown. His arms encircle her body and she instantly melts into his embrace. His large coat easily fell around her and warmed her. His own natural body heat adds to her new found warmth as well.

“You too,” he murmured. His head buries into the crook of her neck, warming her cold skin.

He pulls back after a rather long embrace, realizing they’re still out on the sidewalk. He takes one step back and she visibly deflates at his absence, the cold once again surrounding her.

“Let’s get you home,” he grabs at the handle of her suitcase in one hand and her hand in the other. The warmth returns and she grins, placated by his touch.

“So are you coming to my party tonight?” He inquires once he settles into the driver’s seat after putting her suitcase in the back.

She shifts in her seat, arms wrapped tightly around herself, still cold without any warmth from Harry or the car. “Don’t you suppose there was a reason why I chose to come home today?”

Harry’s ears perk at the use of home, never assuming Y/N viewed London as her home, still it made him smile.

As the car purrs to life, heat immediately seeping out of the seats and vents, Harry’s phone connects as well. NFWMB by Hozier begins to play softly and she glances at Harry again. The song was so sultry and soft, like expensive dark chocolate melting on your tongue. The mood in the car seemed to shift. Their eyes met, Harry’s green ones narrowing at her, trying to decipher the look she was giving to him.

Then he drove off, softly singing along to the words through the sleepy streets. It was surprisingly quiet out for the holidays, people choosing to lay low during the day so they could celebrate the changing of decades in full force tonight.

After the song ends, his eyes travel over to her again and she’s already looking at him. She had missed his face. Sure, he’d sent some silly selfies while she was gone. Mostly on Christmas Eve with his family when he had gotten drunk on mulled wine and eggnog and brandy. Still, in person, he was even more beautiful. The high cheek bones that glistened with a shine most makeup could only hope to produce. Full raspberry lips with stubble growing to frame above and below. The crinkles growing on his forehead and by his eyes that showed him aging with grace. The precious few moles that had gotten lucky enough to live on his face forever. His big green eyes that were consistently bright with interest and intellect, but deep and knowing despite his loving demeanor. She loved those big green eyes, they were just so big and she didn’t understand how no one took the same interest in them as her. All of it, just sitting there beside her. Don’t even get her started on the soul that inhabited the beautiful man beside her. She never would stop spiraling then.

“What?” He asks softly, the sounds of Paul McCartney during some era fading in.

She blinks, hazily in admirance, “Nothing,” she replies.

“What?” He insists, laughing slightly, the lips she loves so much widening in excitement.

“Just missed you.”

Her voice is quiet but strong, serious. A blush creeps up his neck, taking hold of his features.

“Missed you too,” his left hand reaches across the console to take hold of her hand that resided on her thigh. He squeezes her hand softly and they both smile at each other again.

“Don’t worry, I can get my stuff upstairs. I don’t want you being out in the cold any longer than you have to. I’ll see you tonight, H!” She pushes her body across the console and places a kiss on his cheek before jumping out of the car. Harry makes a half smile, knowing he can’t change her mind. He waves to her behind the window as she travels into her building.

“See you.” He says to himself before driving back to his home to finish up preparing for tonight’s festivities. The party was going to be more intimate than the Christmas party at the restaurant. Tonight was just Harry’s family and closest friend - the band, Jeff and his family, Y/N, and a few others.

The whole night Harry and Y/N are within a foot of each other, if not on top of each other. He never leaves her side nor does she his. They are tethered to one another. The longest they’re apart is when Harry gets them refills of Champagne and Y/N journeys to the restroom. They laugh and catch up.

As the night goes on, Harry begins to whisper sweet nothings in her ear and she giggles and places her hand on his chest flirtily. Their interaction is a dance, bedroom eyes and low voices, lingering touches and suggestive lip bites.

When the countdown begins to grow closer, everyone refills their drinks and gathers in the center of Harry’s living room. They cheer and countdown to 2020. And of course, Y/N’s by Harry’s side as he begins the count. And when they get to ‘one’ and everyone’s saying “Happy New Year”, Harry and her are sharing a chaste peck to the lips that electrifies everything they had been saying to each other all night. She sighs into his mouth, but pulls away quickly, aware of their surroundings. No one particularly questions the kiss, either not paying attention or caring. Harry beams down at her and they enjoy the rest of the evening.

At around 1 am, the last of the guests stumble out of Harry’s homes and into waiting ubers and safe rides. Y/N lingers back, beginning to clean the discarded glassware and paper plates. Her and Harry are definitely tipsy, but they enjoy the cleaning work, making terrible jokes about New Year’s and commenting on what people wore tonight. When it’s relatively cleaned in the kitchen, Y/N wanders out to the living room and finds Harry reclined back on the couch.

“H,” She sticks out her foot and nudges him with her boot.

“C’mere,” he reaches out his hand to her, his coat discarded, leaving his arms bare with only a white tank top on.

She takes his hand hesitantly and is yanked on top of Harry in an instant. With a loud huff, she settles above him. “That wasn’t nice.”

“Shush,” his pointer finger goes over her lips, her eyes narrow at him, “Can you believe we’re seeing 2020?”

“Oh my god! I hate you!” She rolls her eyes at his pun and shakes herself from his hand around her waist. She stands up to walk away but he easily grasps her wrist and stops her, easily sitting himself up on the couch.

He looks at her and her annoyance, that wasn’t all too strong in the first place, dissipates. She sighs, “I should probably be heading home.”

“You should stay, it’s so late,” his hand rubbing over the skin on her wrist.

She bites her lip, contemplating the offer, he was right. “I’m really tired and we haven’t really talked, H.”

“But we-”

“Not about us. We’ve been skirting around it, flirting with each other all night, but we haven’t talked about what’s going on. I can’t stay if you expect something from me.”

“I don’t expect anything from you, Y/N. That’s not why I want you to say,” Harry says earnestly, realizing quickly what she’s saying. “I’ve never expected anything from you. An offer to stay is just an offer to stay.”

“Okay,” she finally smiles and sits down beside Harry.

“You can sleep in the guest bedroom, too. If that makes you more comfortable?”

“Oh...I don’t know if we have to take it that far. Plus, you’re like a personal heater and I get cold at night.”

Harry perks up, he had been feeling resigned that maybe she wasn't on the same page as him. He wanted to be with her all the time but also didn’t want to put any pressure on her. She just made him so happy.

“Great! Let’s get to bed then.” He pops up from the couch and brings her into his arms, “You know where all my clothes are, so you can just borrow whatever you want, and then I’m sure I have extra toothbrushes…”

She giggles into his side as she watches him ramble animatedly. Sometimes he was oh so bright, so joyful and carefree. A stark contrast from the quiet confidence he often exhibited for the public.

She woke up in the warm embrace of Harry. His whole bed smelled like him, vanilla mixed with spices of tobacco and sandalwood. It was delicious and she snuggled in deeper to the soft chest she laid against, breathing in his scent deeply.

They rested there for a long time. Harry makes his awakening known with a lingering kiss to her forehead. They both sigh in contentment, radiant in each other’s arms.

“What’s the plan today?” She ponders as Harry’s fingers trace patterns over her skin. He hums in thought.

“Wanna be with you…”

She laughs and looks up at him, “Me too, but we can’t lay around all day.”

“Well, we could.” Harry insists.

She laughs again and twists in his arms, settling so she’s facing him. She bites her lip as she thinks about something, scanning his face over and over.

“I’m gonna go home and get ready for the day. Let’s just explore the city and do some 2020 shopping. Who knows, maybe fashion’s changed since the last decade,” she grins.

Harry chuckles a little and pets at her hair, “I like the sound of that. And we can talk - about us.”

“Mmhmm.”

He tilts his head forward and meets her lips once again, savoring her taste. Each kiss makes him want more. She was good.

Harry lugs in the four heavy shopping bags into her flat, as she carries the single small bag from the chocolatier he had dragged them into. He presses her to the counter when he sets down the bags and begins to kiss her face all over. She giggles and places her hands on his shoulders, giving him a kiss to the lips before pulling away.

They had talked about what they wanted, what they saw in each other and how that fit into their work relationship and the rest of their lives. Harry would have to talk to Jeff, but more so as a by the way this is what I’m doing with my life, not an ask for permission. Y/N would continue as his stylist until the end of the tour cycle, but afterwards she’d go back to freelancing. They wanted to try to date and be as normal as possible. She told him how she didn’t love the fame or the celebrities. Sure she dealt with those things for work, but when they were off duty, she wanted to be regular. She wanted to go out on dates and make dinner on weekend nights. Harry had agreed, he wanted those things too and he understood her wish to keep work and their relationship separate. However, he’d made her concede to allowing kisses during work hours. She had laughed and said it was an easy term to agree to.

It was going to be a good thing. They were both giddy with excitement, the new year, and all the new things they had bought on their relationship high.

“Oh!” She pushed Harry further away from her and hurried into her room. He laughed and looked confusedly after her. “Wait there!” She called. Harry leaned against the back of her upholstered chair.

“Close your eyes!” She says before coming back into the room. Harry’s hands go over his eyes easily as he grins blindly in her direction.

“‘M waiting…”

“Open.”

Harry’s hands slip away and his green eyes blink open. In front of him stands Y/N holding up a hand knit brown sweater vest with horizontal red, cream and blue thin stripes along with the thicker brown stripes. Harry beams, reaching his hands out to take hold of it.

“It was supposed to be a surprise for later, but I found it at this vintage place while I was home and I couldn’t wait any longer to show it to you.”

“Darling, this is gorgeous. I love it! But you shouldn’t have...”

“I thought you could wear it for Lizzo’s concert. I know you said you liked the other sweater vest, but this one is so-”

“You spoil me, seriously.” He cuts her off and laughs before pulling her back into him. Their lips collide in a searing kiss, Harry’s excitement over the new garment making him eager to show her how much he really loved it.

A small sigh escapes her lips as Harry presses into her. His tongue pushing into her mouth in a way that turns the sigh into a moan.

“Let me show you just how much I love it,” He murmurs against her lips, casting the garment onto the back of the chair he had previously been leaning on.

She smiles, eyes fluttering open and meeting his with adoration swelling in their depths. Then she allows him to back their intertwined bodies into her room.

Some apartment in New York a few months later:

“I knew it!”

“Huh?” Aidy lifts her head from the skit she was working on to look at her friend and coworker.

“That stylist...for Harry Styles,” Heidi shifts, sitting up and turning her phone to face Aidy, “She was seen out with him, getting lunch in London and then making out on a street corner. I bet they were dating back in November when he was on the show!”

Aidy laughs, thinking back to her conversation with the stylist that night of Harry’s show. The girl had been so in love that night and Harry had been smitten all week, describing her in the best way, praising her every decision, yearning for her even. And now they were actually together...she was happy for them.

“I don’t know about that...but they were head over Gucci heels for each other that’s for sure.”

Heidi and her scroll through the pictures on social media of the singer and his girlfriend.

“They probably are the best dressed couple I have ever seen,” Heidi grumbles.

“Now that is definitely accurate.”

taglist: @meredithhuntt @sovereigndeadlyperfect @marauderswhisperer @toribentleyva @girlboss99 @harryssunflxwer @loverofaccents @stephaniemalvie @mk15x @beanholland @stfxlou @loliismutt @pinkisawesome101 @stilljosiegrossie @kikisparadise18 @clementimee

#harry styles fanfiction #harry styles x reader #harry styles x you #harry styles fluff #harry styles smut #harry styles angst #harry styles fan fic #harry styles fanfic #harry styles one shot #harry styles oneshot #harrys stylist right?#harry styles x y/n

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 4 years

Text

Into The Woods

Warnings: noncon sexual acts; vaginal, anal.

This is dark!Lumberjack!Bucky and explicit. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You’re sent to make a delivery to the man in the woods.

Note: This is for @imanuglywombat and @nellblazer‘s Lumberjack Challenge. I couldn’t see if they were accepting dark fics so if they aren’t, I guess it’s just another fic lol. But anyways, the challenge inspired me.

Thank you. Love you guys!

As always, if you can, please leave some feedback, like and reblog <3

“You sure Dezy isn’t going to make it?” You asked as you helped Gerry load the crate onto the trailer.

“I’m sorry, I got all the other deliveries sent out with Milo but this one’s too far for him.” Gerry grunted as he closed the back of the open-top trailer. “I don’t know what’s gotten into Dezy. Second day in a row and yet I hear he’s down at the Horse every night.”

“Well, he’ll run out of beer money sooner than later,” You sighed as you pulled on your gloves. The air was starting to bite as the brief autumn was turning. “You sure you can manage without me?”

“Slow day in the shop,” He shrugged. “You just be careful.”

“Alright. I’ll do my best.” You climbed up onto the four-wheeler and fumbled with the thick key with the grizzly bear charm attached to it. “Maybe next time give me the easy ones.”

“I’ll tack an hour of overtime on your pay, how about that?” He chuckled. “You need to get out anyway. I know this place is small but you can’t spend all your time reading those harlequins in the dry good section.”

“They’re not harlequins,” You turned the engine and raised your voice as you gripped the handlebars. “They’re fantasy, Ger.”

“Sure, sure,” He backed away. “You go or you won’t make it back by sundown.”

“Never far off these days,” You mused as you revved. “See ya, Gerry. Don’t forget to down stock the fishing wire.”

“Which one of us is the boss?” He called after you as you pulled out, the small trailer rumbling behind you.

You turned off at the end of the street, past the business fronts that looked like cabins. The town looked straight out of Western but with more snow. The first of the annual powder had yet to fall but you could feel it coming. You headed over the lumpy tundra past the sparse trees that grew thicker the further you got. The paths turned narrower and you steered slowly through the damp forest.

You only went so far out when your uncle took you ice fishing and rarely in this direction. You slowed as the path grew more uneven, carefully traversing the thick roots and deep valleys. The noise of the engine bounced off the trunks of trees around you. It was more than an hour before you reached your destination. At least, you thought you were in the right place. Weren’t too many cabins hidden in these trees; well not many still inhabited.

You pulled into the clearing and killed the engine. You hopped off the ATV and stretched your legs, your thighs tingled from the rumble. You went to the trailer and open the door and slid out the heavy trunk. You braced yourself before you lifted and gave a grunt. You’d packed the load yourself. You carried it past the old motorcycle and the neat stack of wood which marched the way to the broad front porch. You slowly ascended the three steps up and set down the heavy crate beside the door.

A bench made of logs, likely by hand, stood just a few feet from the front door, a woven blanket folded over the seat. The curtains were drawn within and you started to wonder if there was anyone there or if this was just another forgotten scene. It all seemed so eerily still.

You knocked and waited for an answer. Nothing. You tried again with the same result. Then, after a cold silence, you heard a door open and snap shut but it wasn’t the one before you. You turned as a man appeared beside the far corner of the porch. He appeared disturbed by your presence as he emerged from the old shed, his flannel jacket marked with patches of dirt and his dark hair poking out from beneath a woolen cap.

“He usually just leaves it there,” He clapped his gloved hands together as he brushed away the filth. “Thanks.”

“Uh, sorry,” You turned and ambled down the steps. “I didn’t realise.”

“Don’t be sorry,” He stayed near the corner, kicking his foot up onto the stump where an ax waited to be used. “Better get going before the sun beats you.”

“Sure,” You went back to the four wheeler. His eyes bore into you as you climbed up. “I didn’t mean to disturb you. I just--”

“Thanks,” He said again. “Driving out here all this way. Appreciate it.”

“No problem,” You turned the key. “Have a good day, sir.”

The engine roared to life and you carefully turned around, the empty trailer clattering behind you. You couldn’t help but feel him watching you still. You wanted to look back, but didn’t. You twisted the throttle and delved back through the treeline. You hoped Dezy would get his shit together, you weren’t keen on doing deliveries.

🪓

The next day, you were back to your usual fare. You stood at the long counter of Elk’s General, watching the locals as they wandered in and out, perusing the aisles of groceries, clothing, or novelty goods. You rung them through on the outdated till and smiled after them as they left with their paper bags.

The usual midday lull came and you pressed flat your latest read on the counter. You crossed your arms over the edge and bent over the pages, losing yourself in the fantastical medieval setting. Gerry didn’t mind so much as you kept an eye on customers.

The rusty bell above the entrance tinkled and you looked up suddenly. You turned your book over before you could lose your place. You stood up straight and smiled at your newest customer but froze as his eyes met yours. It was the man from the day before, to whom you had delivered the weeks worth of goods.

He ignored your usual greeting and marched over to you. He planted the bill for his delivery on the counter.

“I ordered six cans of maple beans. I have only four.” He said plainly.

“An oversight. I’m sorry, sir. Just a moment.” You gulped and flitted off to check the shelf. There were only the tomato beans in stock. You went to the back room and checked there. Nothing. You returned to the counter. “Looks like we’re all out but I’ll make a note to have them delivered when we get more. Or we can remove the charge from your bill.”

“Keep ‘em on,” He said as he reached into his pocket. “I can wait.” He unfolded the worn leather wallet. “I have to pay my account anyway.”

“Sure,” You reached to slid his bill closer and keyed the amount into the machine. “You could have called--”

“I don’t have a phone,” He growled as he counted out the bills. “I don’t like to be disturbed.”

You took the money and counted it. You avoided his gaze guiltily. You sorted the bills in the cash door and handed him his change. His gloves brushed your skin and he tucked the money away with his wallet.

“Good book?” He pointed to the novel.

“Alright, so far,” You answered quietly.

“I read his other one. The one set in Ancient Egypt. It was… interesting. Not my usual reading material though.” He tapped his fingers on the counter. “You have a good day, miss.”

He turned and left you as you returned his farewell. The door snapped shut behind him and you looked back down at the book. You opened the front page and read the list of works by the same author. You’d have to look into them.

🪓

Several days late, you were helping Gerry restock shelves with the newly acquired truck. The night before, you’d helped unload it and left it for the next day to sort through. Dezy sat behind the counter, half-keeled over on the stool, trying not to puke into his hands.

“Damn shit is hungover again,” Gerry muttered. “I got a whole list of deliveries today and he can’t even stand straight.”

“I can do it,” You offered. “Long as he can manage the till.”

“I don’t know if I even trust him to do that,” Gerry said. “You sure you wanna do the deliveries?”

“We got any of the maple beans on the truck?” You asked.

“A good amount.” He said.

“We owe two cans to-- well, I didn’t get his name. The man who lives way up in the trees.” You frowned, only then realising you new nothing about him. In that town, everyone knew everyone.

“Mr. Barnes?” Gerry reached over into the box and moved around several items before pulling out a can. “Quiet man. Doesn’t like to be bothered. Must’ve scared Dezy good to get him to shut up.” He took out two more cans. “If you’re willing to head up that way, you give him and extra can on me. He’s the only customer in town who pays on time.”

“Sure,” You stood, thankful not to be forced to kneel all day at the shelves. “The list?”

“Pinned up behind the counter as usual,” He caught a box of Corn Pops he hit with his elbow and swore. “Take a radio. Snow’s comin’.”

“Will do,” You said. “I should be that long.”

“Chill blowin’ in from the lake, bundle up before you go too.” He said.

“You sound like my mother.” You laughed.

“I feel like you’re mother,” He shook his head. “Now go, before I get sentimental.”

🪓

Gerry was right, it was cold. The four-wheeler seemed slower as the wind swirled around you. You stopped by each house and knocked before leaving your haul. You smiled away tips and bid each resident a good day before you rushed away under the protests of another delivery ahead of you.

Your last would take the longest, though it was the smallest. The tree cans rattled around the trailer so you stopped at the shop before you continued on and detached it. You placed the cans in a small box and secured it to the seat behind you with bungee cords. You fixed your gloves and pulled your cap over your ears before you set out once more.

The sky grew paler the later it got. A harbinger of snow. You took the same route as before, getting off once to push the ATV over a fallen branch caught beneath it. You carried on, the frigid air lashing your cheeks.

You drew up to the clearing as you had before. The motorcycle was gone, likely pushed into the shed in preparation for the first snowfall. The piles of wood had grown taller and the front door was open, the screen door a poor barrier to the looming winter.

You unhooked the box and climbed up the steps. You bent to set it down and be off. You looked up as you sensed something on the other side of the screen door. The man, Mr. Barnes, stared at you through the mesh, a mug in hand. You stood and smiled nervously.

“Your beans. An extra can for the inconvenience.” You said. “Have a good day, sir.”

You turned but caught yourself before you made it down one step as he spoke.

“It’s pretty cold.” He remarked as he took the box in his free hand. “You like coffee? I just made a pot.”

“I appreciate it,” You turned to him. “But I don’t mean to impose on you.”

“I wouldn’t ask if you were,” He said stiffly. “I’d feel worse letting half a pot go to waste.”

“I don’t know, I should--” You glanced behind you at the trees.

“You came all this way to give me beans in this,” He held the door with his elbow and stepped through. “You don’t like coffee, I got tea.”

You took a breath as you looked back to him. “Sure. I’ll have some coffee.”

He nodded and stared at you. He blinked and moved to hold the door open. “Well, you wanna come inside? Or do you prefer your coffee frozen?”

“Uh, yeah, okay,” You kicked yourself and stopped right before the door. You smiled awkwardly and offered your name. “I just… figured you wouldn’t want a stranger in your home.”

“Bucky,” He returned and waved you inside. “Not many strangers in town. Not really.”

You entered and he followed you. The entryway was lit by an antique lamp and the front room was entirely dark. You knelt to unlace your boots as he stepped around you. You kept your coat on as the wind continued to seep in behind you.

“Kitchens just down the hall past the stairs,” He said as he continued across the wooden floor.

“Okay,” You slid your boots off and stood, following his shadow to the kitchen.

As you passed through the doorway, he placed his mug on the table and went to the cupboard. He took down another thick ceramic cup and sidled over to the stove. He filled it from the percolator and returned to the table to place it before you.

“Milk? Sugar?”

“I’m fine, black is good,” You accepted as he slid the cup over to you.

You sat, hesitantly, and removed your gloves. You tucked them in your pocket and wrapped your hands around the steaming cup. He pulled out another chair and sat. He looked into the mug and slowly drank from it.

“I didn’t know anyone still lived out here.” You said.

“Sometimes,” He answered carefully. “Spring and summer I spend working the lumberyards south of here.”

“And you live all the way up here?” You wondered. He gave you a sharp look. “Sorry, it’s just… curiosity.”

“I like it,” He shrugged. “It’s quiet.”

You nodded and resigned yourself to silence. You listened to the wind outside and looked around at the tidy kitchen. Most of the original structure remained, renovated but not replaced. Even the curtains seemed to be of another era; faded but without holes or tears. All the way up here, time always seemed to stand still.

“You finish your book?” His voice jolted you.

You looked back to him and sipped the hot coffee. You nodded again.

“I did.” You answered. “It was alright.”

“Just alright?” He asked.

“I’ve read better and worse,” You said. “It was… entertaining.”

“Mmm,” He mumbled and drank his coffee. You mimicked him, eager to leave.

Ten minutes of silence and stunted small talk left your mug empty and your stomach gurgling. You stood and nervously teetered on your feet.

“I should go. It’s snowing already.” You glanced out the window.

“Sure,” He rose and gathered up the mugs and took them to the sink.

“Thank you.” You said and turned rigidly to head through the door.

You trod down the hallway and stopped to pull on your boots. You adjusted your cap and shoved your gloves on. He neared and you pushed open the door and glanced back at him.

“Coffee was good.” You said.

He caught the door behind you and you marched across the porch. You rushed down the steps and shivered as you neared the four wheeler.

“Be careful,” He said in monotone.

“I will, thank you,” You called back as you climb onto the seat. “Enjoy your beans.”

He waved and you turned the engine. You backed up and turned around. The snow had already left a thin powder across the ground. You steered into the trees and carefully began to weave around the trunks and along the uneven forest floor.

The snow thickened the more it fell. You had to slow as the ride became more precarious. The downfall formed a thick carpet beneath the tires and soon, even beneath the shroud of branches, the snow formed a curtain all around you, making it nearly impossible to see. You stopped and left the motor rumbling.

You pulled the radio from its holster down beside the wheel well and turned the dial until you picked up the signal. It was static and crackled.

“Gerry? Gerry!” You held the speak to your lips. “Gerry?”

“Yeah, i--me, ---okay?” His voice went in and out.

“I’m okay but the snow is… I can’t see. It’s going to take me a while.”

“Wha-- breaking up--” The radio broke off with a high pitched scratch.

“Damn it!” You shouted and tried fixing the dial. It didn’t help.

You sat for a moment and put the radio back. You couldn’t stay and let yourself get snowed in. You’d have to keep going, slow but steady. You carefully pulled past the trees, blinking away the flakes as they gathered on your lashes. You stopped again to pulled your scarf higher over your cheeks and pressed on.

The third time you paused, you realised you were lost. A brief lull allowed your vision to clear and you had no idea where you were. You kicked the side of the ATV and cursed. You grabbed the radio again and turned it on.

“Gerry?” No answer. Several more tries with nothing but static.

You hung your head and clicked the radio off. You gripped the handlebars and looked around. You’d have to turn around and try to trace your way back but the snow was starting to get heavy again and--

“Hey,” You jumped as the voice sounded from behind you. “You okay?”

You turned to find Bucky standing by a tree. “How--”

“Looks like you just went in a big circle,” He said. “You’re about ten minutes from my place.”

“What are you doing out here?” You asked.

“Wanted to grab some kindling before the storm got too bad, then I heard you.”

“Kindling?”

“Dry it out, obviously, but might run out of what I have before this clears,” He looked up. “Look, it’s only gonna get worse. Why don’t you wait it out?”

“I don’t-- I can’t--”

“There’s more than enough room for both of us. Might be a bit dusty but… Wouldn’t feel right letting you get lost out here.”

You exhaled and looked at the radio.

“Alright,” You relented.

“I’ll lead the way.” He came up beside the ATV and passed to the front. “Just don’t get too close.”

“Okay,” You turned the throttle just a bit and kept a snail’s pace as he guided you.

He barely seemed bothered by the gusts or the deepening snow. Even as the air turned almost completely white, he didn’t waver though you squinted to keep an eye on him.

“You like beans?” He yelled back to you as he broke through to the clearing around his house.

“Maple beans?” You asked dryly.

“They go great with toast,” He said as he continued onto the shed and unlocked the wide doors. “Warm you right up.”

🪓

You sat at the table, alone. Bucky had excused himself after clearing his own plates. You still picked away at the beans and sausage, listening to the movement above. You scooped the last few bites up and swallowed, washing it down with a gulp of water. You stood and went to the sink to rinse your plate. As you set it in the rack, you were startled by a creak behind you.

“I cleared a bedroom for you. It’s a bit dusty around here.” Bucky said as he leaned against the door frame. “Bit cold, too. Sorry about that.”

“It’s alright,” The windows shuddered. “Better than out there.”

“I put some clothes out too. Might be a little big.” He explained. “Dinner okay?”

“Yeah, it was…” You tried to smile. “Alright. Um, just one second.”

You neared him and he moved aside. You went down the hallway to where your jacket was hung and pulled the radio out. He watched you as you fiddled with it and the speaker crackled on.

“Gerry?” You held it to your lips.

“Kiddo?” He said, clear but not entirely.

“I’m okay,” You said slowly as you held the button down. “Staying until storm clears. Call in morning.”

“Roger, kiddo,” He returned. “Be safe.”

You turned off the radio and placed it back in your coat pocket. You looked up at Bucky as he stared at you dully.

“Just wanted to make sure someone knew,” You said. “Wouldn’t want them to worry.”

“Of course not,” He said. “You want a beer?”

“What?” You were thrown off by the sudden offer.

“Beer. If you want you can grab a book from the study,” He pointed to the doorway opposite the front room. “Sit in front of the fire where it’s warm.”

“I’ll take the book,” You said. “I’m not much for beer though.”

“Hot chocolate? Tea?” He stepped a little closer.

“I’m fine,” You squirmed. “Thank you.”

‘Just let me know if you need anything,” He said softly. “Haven’t had a guest in a while but… I can be accommodating.”

🪓

You read three chapters before you found your way upstairs. Bucky showed you the room he’d prepared for you but didn’t say much more before he closed himself into his own. You changed into the long sleeve tee he left you and the jogging pants with the drawstring waist. You tucked your feet into the wool socks and rolled under the blankets. You were still cold. The top floor was entirely untouched by the fireplace below.

You drifted into a shallow sleep. Maybe an hour or two before you woke, shivering. You sat up and reluctantly climbed out from beneath the covers. You took one of the blankets and wrapped it around you as you shuffled to the door. You slipped through, carefully not to let the hinges whine and plodded through the dark down the stairs.

In the front room, the fire burned a low amber. You crept over to it and took a log from the wrought iron basket just beside it. You placed it over the coals and stoked it with the poker until flames began to lick. You held your hands to the glow until you were no longer shaking.

You took a cushion from the couch and dropped it on the carpet. You laid down before the fire, wrapping yourself in the blanket as you basked in the warmth. You listened to the violent winds outside, softened by the heaps of snow which had gathered all around the cabin. Your eyes closed as you began to sink into the darkness around you.

You dreamt of the four wheeler, of the snow swirling around you, of losing yourself in the pure white. The trees curled and clawed at your as you were thrown from the seat. The snap of twigs filled your ears and your eyes snapped open. The fire popped as it burned, the room lighter but not much.

There was a heaviness around you. More than just the quilt, the thick arm wrapped around your middle held you close to the warmth at your back. Startled, you wriggled against the body and a groan slithered along your ear.

“What the--” You hissed as you grasped his wrist, his hand tucked beneath you. “What are you doing?”

“It’s cold,” His breath was hot as it seeped into your scalp. “You were shivering.”

“Let me go,” You tugged on him.

“Shhh,” He hushed. “It’s early.”

“Dude, not cool,” You pulled harder on his arm.

“Stop,” He said more firmly.

“Get off of me.” You growled.

“You’re not a very gracious guest,” He snarled as he retracted his arm, only to grab your shoulder and push you flat on your back.

You latched onto his wrist, he was strong. He didn’t budge.

“You’re scaring me.”

“Scaring you?” He removed his hand. “How? What do you think I’m gonna do?”

He sat up, his broad shoulder stretched the waffled shirt he wore as he rubbed his eyes. He pushed his head back and took a deep breath. You pushed yourself up slowly beside him.

“What do you want me to do?” His hand settled on your thigh and he squeezed.

“Stop,” You tried to push his hand away and he flipped it to grasp yours.

His grip slipped to your wrist and he twisted. He wrenched it over your head until you were forced onto your back. You cried out as he leaned over you, the blanket slipping entirely from your bodies.

“Came all this way for a few cans of beans,” He whispered. “Really?”

“Stop!” You repeated. “Please.”

“But you’re cold,” He uttered as he leaned closer. “You need to warm up… you’re shivering…” His nose touched yours. “Or… shaking?”

“Get--” His lips smothered yours as he shifted his body atop you.

You struggled as he released your wrist and reached down to grab your knee as he forced his legs between yours. He bit your lip as he pulled and his hand clawed at the waist of the loose pants. He pulled until he snapped the string within and you kicked around him.

“What are you doing?” You beat on his shoulders. “Stop! Stop!”

“I don’t talk to people, they don’t talk to me,” He snarled. “I keep to myself. Even that dumb delivery boy of yours knows better.”

“No, no,” You slapped his chest as he sat up suddenly.

He tore the pants down your legs until they were around your knees and pushed them up. The fabric kept you trapped beneath him, legs bent to your chest as he leaned over your once more. He brushed his nose against your cheek and snarled.

“You asked for this, honey,” He sneered. “You just couldn’t leave me alone… The way you smile at me, I can see it.”

“I was just--” You pushed against him. “--doing my job. Please, get off of me.”

He moved against you, his thighs pressed to yours as he felt between you. He pushed his own pants down and you tried to shove him off of you with your legs. You only made yourself dizzy.

The fire flickered against you, setting shadows across his features, his blue eyes caught the flame and glowed sinisterly. His rough finger tickled your cunt as he guided his cock along your folds. You grunted as you fought harder beneath him. He pressed along your entrance and you gasped, a horrified scream as he impaled you in a single thrust.

“Go on and scream.” He said. “No one will hear you. No one but me.” He jerked his hips and you cried out again. “I kinda like it.”

He moved his hips in sharp, short thrusts. He grunted with each, lower and lower, almost like satisfied purrs.

He sat up and hugged your legs to his torso as he rutted faster. He clung to you as if he was desperate, as if he couldn’t get enough. You scratched at the carpet. You whimpered each time he slammed into you, each tilt of his hips harder than the last. The clapping of your flesh mingled with your voices. You closed your eyes, holding back the sobs that threatened.

And then he stopped. Suddenly. He stayed inside of you as his grasp on you loosened. His body quivered and a low growl rose from him. He pulled out of you and pushed your legs aside to that you fell onto your side. Shakily, you pushed yourself, on knees and elbow you tried to crawl away, your pants tangled around your feet.

He grabbed your ankles and dragged you back as you slipped onto your stomach. He climbed over you, pinning your legs between his. He kneaded and pinched your ass, dusky, thick breaths rose from him.

He pressed his thumb between your cheeks and you reached desperately for anything to get away. The edge of the carpet rolled in your grasp and you kicked your feet with a panicked whine. He pressed his thumb against your asshole and you shook your head as he buried your face in your arms. He pushed inside and you let out a shrill cry.

He poked in and out of you, your tight ring burned around his thumb. He withdrew it and forced his index finger in, then added his middle. Your pained groans only seemed to encourage him as he stretched you around a third finger.

He pulled his hand away and bent his arm over your shoulders as he lifted himself over you. He lined himself up with your ass as his hair hung around his head and brushed the back of yours. He took a breath and you held one in. He entered you slowly, letting out a choked grunt as you strained around him.

The tears pricked at your eyes and your arm shot up as you blind grabbed at air.

“Please, please, please. Stop.” You begged. “I can’t--”

He pushed deeper and your voice fizzled. He pulled back and thrust in again. Every time, he went a little further. Soon he was buried in you to his limit and you couldn’t breathe or move. He held himself inside of you and shuddered.

He began to rock and you moaned. Despite the pain, the fire that radiated from your core, it felt good. The more he did, the better it got. The pressure built, unlike any you’d felt before, and you gulped and groaned against the carpet. Shocked by him, by yourself.

He got faster and faster. Louder two as his snarls filled your head. You tensed and then in an instant, your strength drained from you. You came, harder than you had ever in your life. You murmured as your head lolled and he kept going.

He lifted his head and his fingers gripped the back of your neck as he lifted himself over you. He hammered into you from above as you lay prone and helpless beneath him. He exclaimed and you felt a warmth flow into you.

He stopped and fell atop you. His weight held you down, suffocated you. His arm stretched up and he grabbed your hand, twining his fingers with yours.

“Stay as long as you like,” He rasped. “Snow’s not letting up anytme soon.”

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