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#mrs-gucci requests
mrs-gucci · 2 years
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Star Wars day requests
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I know I haven’t been active a whole lot lately, but I figured I’d send out this casual bat signal and see what happens.
Star Wars day (May 4th) is on the horizon and I think it’d be fun to do a little something special. plus, it’s a chance to reinvigorate my writing motivation!
so, from now until May 4th, I’ll be accepting either CANON KYLO REN requests or STAR WARS-THEMED requests (could be a SW AU, celebrating SW day with one/some of the boys…feel free to be creative!)
I won’t be putting the link to this post on my pinned post or anything, this is just a casual thing. send something in if the creative spirit moves you :)
🌟 please read my ~ Requests FAQ ~ post before submitting anything, especially if you’ve never submitted something to me before!
🌟 all requests can be submitted to my inbox, linked ~ HERE ~
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celiastjamesoscar · 7 months
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Would That I
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Pairings: Sam Carpenter x fem!reader
Summary: You accidentally ran into someone at a frat party, and she quickly became your best friend. But you fell for her sister, who wouldn’t even give you the time of the day (this is a shitty description)
Warnings: swearing, mentions of weed, alcohol consumption, small joke of role playing sex, jokes about getting salmonella and dying, slight angst. Let me know if I missed any!
My Masterlist
AN: Came from this request here!
Word Count: 6.8K
You could smell the alcohol and weed in the air before approaching the house. It was Halloween night, and you were going to a frat party with your friends, even though you had zero intention of staying longer than ten minutes. You were just here to ‘shake babies and kiss hands,’ as your friend Miles would say.
He was the one hosting this frat party, so of course, you had to show your support for your friend, even though you hated parties and drinking. He was one of the biggest recruiters for his frat house and very well known across the campus for his promiscuous activities, but he wasn’t your typical frat guy. Yes, he loved to drink, party, and sleep around, but he was a nerd. He had been his high school’s team captain of Scholar Bowl his junior and senior year, and led them to a state championship win. And he was also extremely socially awkward; it pained you to watch him interact with people.
“What the actual fuck are you wearing?” Anika questioned as you walked up the stairs to the house. She and Mindy were patiently waiting outside for you, and they both laughed at your outfit. “What? This is a vintage Gucci,” you stated as you did a twirl for the girls.
You were dressed up as Alan Garner from the hangout, and Anika hated to admit it, but you pulled off the cheap fake beard and wig. You also had a fake baby strapped to your chest with cheap sunglasses covering your eyes.
“You are really asking me that, Mr. Worldwide?” You jabbed as you eyed Anika up and down. The girl wore a god-awful bald cap, a black suit, and a white shirt with a shitty penciled-on goatee. “Haters gonna hate,” Anika replied as she pulled a pair of sunglasses out from her jacket pocket and put them on.
You scoffed at the girl before looking at Mindy, “I don’t even know what to say to you.”
“I’m going to have a BF if you insult me,” Mindy scolded as she stared you down. She wore a jean skirt with white pantyhose topped off with a jean jacket and a pink shirt that said ‘Dude, where’s my couture’ in red letters.
“Was this your idea?” You asked with an eyebrow raised.
Mindy scoffed at your words, “Of course not! I wanted to go as Vector but Chad wanted to match,” she said as she rolled her eyes, “So now, I’m from White Chicks instead of Despicable Me.”
“I think you would have made a very sexy Vector,” you admitted with a smile.
“Thank you. At least someone,” Mindy sent Anika a glare, “thinks it would have been sexy.”
Anika rolled her eyes at Mindy, “I told you I’m not having sex with you while you are dressed up like Vector!”
“Okayyyy, this just got weird,” you interrupted as you walked past the fighting couple but stopped just before the door, “you two coming?”
The two quickly stood up and followed you into the house. The smell of alcohol and weed was enough to turn your stomach as you opened the door. You saw partygoers dressed in all different kinds of costumes as you pushed through the crowd and made your way into the kitchen. “I shall have a bottle of Smirnoff, and what will my lady have?” Mindy asked as she dug around the cooler full of alcohol. “I shall have the same, my lord,” Anika replied, and you almost gagged at their conversation.
You politely pushed past Mindy and fished around for a bottle of water, and you quietly rejoiced when you pulled up the last bottle. “Seriously? Water?” Mindy questioned as she glared at you. “Yes, seriously. This is a frat party, and I only know three people here!” You exclaimed while holding your water.
Mindy muttered a quiet ‘whatever,’ and you were going to retort when you felt someone throw their arm around you and pull you into a hug. “How’s my favorite homo doing?” Miles questioned while ruffling your hair. “I’m fine, Miles. Thanks for asking,” Mindy butted in with a slight smile.
Miles let out a small laugh as he left your hair alone and gave Mindy a fist-bump, “I’ve missed you too, Mindy, and you as well, Anika.” Anika smiled at the man as she also fist-bumped him. “Well, me and Y/N here are going to go hunt for some Latinas to hit on, you two gay-bo’s have fun,” Miles said while pulling you off into another room.
“Really? We are going to ‘hunt for some Latinas?’” You questioned as you followed Miles into the living room. People were elbow to elbow, and you had to shout over the loud music to converse with the man. “Obviously! I know your three main things you look for in women, and I bet we can find someone here who is all three,” Miles replied as she slung his arm over your shoulder while scanning the room for a potential hookup for you.
You scoffed at your best friend’s words, “I do not have three things I look for in a woman. I only care about her personality and her thoughts on Dr. Pepper.”
A sound of fake gagging caused you to send a death glare at Miles. “I forgot you're a Dr. Pepper whore,” your friend joked as he started listing your three interests on his fingers. “Number one: you love Latinas, same here. Number two: you love emo chicks; same here again. And finally, number three, you love a woman older than you, and guess what? Same here too!”
“I hate that we are basically the same person in different fonts,” you mumbled under your breath as you shoved yourself off Miles, causing you to bump into a stranger accidentally.
“Oh my god, I am so sorry,” you quickly apologized as you faced the woman. She was close to a foot shorter than you, but had a beautiful smile and seemed like she had a charming personality. “No, it’s okay,” the girl replied slurredly. You could tell this girl was hammered out of her mind, and you had seen the eyes of preying men on her.
Not knowing what to do, you asked her, “Hey, I know we just met, but would you want to go outside with me?” The question was an innocent one; you didn’t want to leave an intoxicated girl who was pushing five feet nothing to fend off men like Frankie. “Sure,” the girl replied with a smile as she grabbed your hand and pulled you outside. You sent Miles a scared smile as the man responded with a comical smile and a thumbs up.
You followed the girl out to a small wooden swing and sat down next to her. “So, what’s your name?” You quietly asked. You had no intentions on hitting on this girl even though she was your type; you were just in need of some new friends, and you thought she could be a good addition.
Not that Anika and Miles were bad friends, you just needed someone else to hang out occasionally.
The girl reached her hand over to you while saying, “I’m Tara; it’s nice to meet you.” You gently shook her hand and sent her a grin, “I’m Y/N. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
The further the night went along, the more you talked with Tara. You two quickly discovered that you both shared a love for art and elevated horror, and you even exchanged numbers with the girl.
“Oh shit,” Tara quietly mumbled as she stood up from the bench. You gave her a puzzled look before standing up as well, “is everything alright?”
“Yeah, it’s just my sister is freaking out about me right now,” Tara replied as she texted someone back, presumably the sister in question. “You aren’t in any trouble, are you? Because I can try and help to get you out,” you offered, causing Tara to chuckle at your words.
“Thank you, Y/N, but I think Sam would kill you if she ever met you,” Tara joked while looking up at you before returning to typing.
A minute passed before Tara sighed and closed her phone. “Well, I better get back home,” Tara said as she moved in to hug you, but your fake baby got in the way.
You gave Tara an awkward smile as you pulled the girl into a side hug and whispered in her ear, “Babies, am I right?”
“Why do you even have that thing?” Tara asked while flicking its head.
You quickly wrapped your arms around the baby’s head and shielded it from Tara. “Hey! Do not hurt my baby Carlos!” You exclaimed.
“Carlos? Are you serious?”
“Yes, I am serious. Do not hate on his name.”
“Why did you pick such an outlandish name?” Tara asked with a smile as she crossed her arms.
You scoffed at the girl’s words, “‘Carlos’ is not an outlandish name, Tara. And besides, it’s from the movie The Hangover.”
Tara chuckled at your words, “Oh my god, my sister loves that movie; she watches it all the time.”
“Is your sister single?” You asked with a playful smirk.
“Ha! Yeah, right. Good luck with that. Sam is pretty reserved,” Tara stated as she slowly started to walk toward the road.
“How come? If you don’t mind me asking,” you asked while following Tara and stopping on the sidewalk beside her.
The girl shrugged while pulling out her phone and texting someone. “Her last relationship ended badly. And ever since then, she’s just been closed off to everyone except me and always stalking me,” Tara admitted while putting her phone away, “but you’ll get a chance to meet her; she’s on her way to pick us up.”
“Us?”
“Yeah, only if you want to come over. I know we just met, but I feel like we could be friends,” Tara admitted with a smile as a black car pulled, parked, and the driver got out.
Tara continued talking to you, but as soon as you saw the driver, you couldn’t hear anything else. She was, to put it lightly, the most attractive woman you have ever seen. She had dark eyes that captivated you and a stern look as she approached you and Tara.
“Who’s this?” The alluring woman asked, and you could only think, ‘You’re future girlfriend’ with a giant smile.
The younger sister beamed at her sister’s question and placed a hand on your back, gently pushing you toward the woman. “Sam, this is Y/N. She’s my friend,” Tara stated.
“Hi,” you breathlessly replied with an awkward smile as you stuck out your hand toward Sam. The woman looked you up and down before scoffing and slapping your hand away. “How come you’ve never mentioned her before?” Sam questioned while crossing her arms.
“Because, Sam, we just met tonight.”
At that, Sam’s eyes instantly widened as she stared at her sister. “Are you serious?! You don’t even know this stranger, yet you came outside to be alone with her?” Sam exclaimed as she checked her sister over for any injuries.
“I’m fine, Sam. And besides, Y/N isn’t that bad,” Tara laughed as she felt Sam’s hands check out of her body.
Sam stopped her movements and looked Tara in the eyes, “And how do you know that?”
Tara huffed at Sam’s question and turned to face you, “You aren’t going to murder me, Y/N, are you?”
“Yes, I am,” you joked with a playful smile, but Sam didn’t find it funny.
“Well, at least I get a heads up this time,” Tara chuckled, completely ignoring Sam’s bewildering expression.
Sam took in her sister’s words before shaking her head, shocked, “No, absolutely not. Come on, Tara, we are leaving,” Sam said as she walked to the driver’s side.
“Can Y/N come over at least?” Tara asked with puppy dog eyes and a small frown. Sam hated it when Tara did this, and her younger sister knew it always worked. Of course, Sam knew that Tara was only doing this to get her way, and Sam never denied her sister.
With a quiet ‘goddamnit,’ Sam allowed you to come with them.
“Thank you,” you said once you got into the back of the car and buckled up. You only got a small grunt in response, but you took it as a win.
The car ride was filled with low music and the occasional conversation between the sisters as you admired Sam. You were sitting behind the passenger seat, allowing you the perfect side view to look at Sam. Unbeknownst to you, Sam had caught you staring at her in the rearview mirror but made no verbal comment. ‘Fucking weirdo,’ she thought to herself as she quickly glanced at your love-sick eyes in the mirror.
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Arriving at the Carpenters' apartment, Tara gave you a quick tour of the place and introduced you to their roommate Quinn, who naturally took a liking to you.
While you were on the couch talking with Tara, Quinn walked into the kitchen and found Sam glaring at you.
“She’s certainly something, isn’t she?” Quinn questioned while twirling her hair around her finger. You had taken off the fake beard, wig, and sunglasses and left your baby and baby carrier next to the door, and Sam had to admit, now that she saw your entire face, you were undeniably attractive.
Sam side-eyes Quinn before looking back at you and then back to the redhead. “I thought you were strictly men?”
Quinn chuckled at Sam’s response, “How can I thoroughly enjoy sex if I’ve never been with a woman? They know the female body better than anyone else.”
Not being able to form an argument against Quinn’s words, Sam nodded her head in agreement.
“Wish me luck,” Quinn said as she gently slapped Sam’s back before entering the living room, sitting right next to you.
And for some unknown reason, Sam felt a tinge of jealousy shoot throughout her body, making her hate you all the more.
You and Tara stayed up watching movies while Quinn occasionally hit on you. And when it came time for people to start turning in, Quinn gave it one last shot.
“Well, I’m going to bed,” Quinn said as she rubbed her hands on her thighs before standing up, “you can always come sleep with me, Y/N,” she finished with a wink before walking into her room.
Once she was gone, Tara apologized, “I’m sorry about her. She’s like that with everyone.”
“Eh, I don’t mind the boost of confidence,” you replied with a smirk. Tara laughed at your words, and her eyes darted to Sam’s door as it opened.
Sam walked into the living room and glared at you before looking at Tara. “Alright, Tara, I think it’s time for Y/N to go home,” Sam stated as she crossed her arms.
Tara let out a small groan as she threw her head back before standing up. “Alright, Alan, let’s go,” Tara replied as she pulled you off the couch and walked toward the door with you.
“What are you doing?” Sam questioned while watching you, and Tara put on your shoes. “I’m taking Y/N home?” Tara replied with a puzzled look.
“Nuh-uh, nope,” Sam responded as she walked over to the door and stood before it, “you are not leaving here this late at night with her.”
With a scoff, Tara looked between you and her sister, “Well, what do you want her to do then? Walk home?”
“Yes,” Sam immediately replied, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.
“So it’s not safe enough for me to walk with her, but she can go alone?”
Sam took a few seconds to think about it before responding, “That is correct.”
Tara sighed; she knew there was no point in arguing with Sam, but she got a bright idea. “Well, since you won’t let me take her home, you can,” Tara suggested as she removed her shoes.
“No!” You and Sam exclaimed at the same time but for different reasons. Sam didn’t want to take you home because she did not like you at all. While you, on the other hand, didn’t want to be left alone with the woman because you knew for a fact you would be a blushing mess and wouldn’t be able to form a sentence.
“I’ll take her home,” a voice called from behind you, and you turned to see Quinn leaning against her door frame. The redhead wore a sheer white blouse, and you could see her red lingerie bra.
“I’m fine with that,” you replied too quickly with a smile on your face.
But Sam scoffed at your words before moving to grab her keys. “Absolutely not. Come on, Y/N. I’ll take you,” Sam stated as she pushed past you to open the door. You gave Quinn a small wave and told Tara you would text her as you gathered up Carlos, your fake beard and wig, along with your sunglasses, before following Sam out to her car.
“Thank you for taking me home. I appreciate it, Sam,” you commented as you buckled up. Sam huffed in response as she started her car.
“How do I get to your house?” Sam asked after a few moments of driving down a random street. You told the woman your address, and Sam wanted to scream when she realized it would take almost thirty minutes to get to your house due to traffic.
The car was filled with the heavenly voice of Lana Del Rey as you leaned your head back against the headrest and looked over at Sam. You couldn’t explain it, but Sam was exactly what you would imagine a Lana Del Rey song would look like.
“Stop staring at me; you’re creepy as shit,” Sam said once she felt your eyes on her.
You awkwardly cleared your throat as you uncomfortably shifted in your seat while staring at the floor. “So, Tara told me your favorite movie is The Hangover?” You questioned while fidgeting with your fingers.
A few seconds passed before dryly said, “Yes.” And even more, seconds passed before she added, “I hope Carlos had a fun night.”
You lightly chuckled at the woman’s words as you messed with Carlos’ plastic hands, “Yeah, he had a blast tonight.”
Sam responded with a small ‘mhm’ as she continued driving, enjoying the awkward silence that filled the air.
When Sam arrived at your apartment, she realized that you lived in the nicer part of New York, and she loathed you for it. Not only were you a nuisance, you were more than likely a spoiled rich brat, and Sam could not wait to get rid of you.
“This is me,” you quietly mumbled while getting out of the vehicle with your items in hand as Sam rolled down the window to talk to you, “Thank you for the ride, Sam. I appreciate it,” you said as you pulled out your wallet and handed the woman a ten dollar through the window.
She looked between you and the money before staring into your eyes, “I’m not having sex with you for money.”
You furrowed your eyebrows and shook your head. “What? No. No! That’s not what I was implying,” you quickly defended before looking at Sam, “Why would you think?”
The woman shrugged her shoulders before speaking, “Because all you’ve done tonight is stare at me, so you either want sex or want to kill me,” Sam suggested.
“Why would I want to kill you?”
“Because you’re being creepy as shit! And you told Tara you were going to murder her.”
“Okay, fair enough. But I was completely joking about the whole murder thing,” you replied with a small laugh that Sam clearly didn’t find funny. You didn’t know about the past traumas the sisters have gone through together, and Sam knew that you didn’t know, but it didn’t make her feel any better toward you.
“Whatever,” Sam replied as she took your money before driving off.
“Goodnight, Sam!” You exclaimed while the car pulled away, and you sighed before heading to your apartment. Sam might not be the biggest fan of you right now, but you vowed you would win over the woman’s heart, no matter what it took.
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Winning over Sam was much more challenging than you initially thought it would be. Every time you visited Tara at her place, Sam wouldn’t even acknowledge you, and anytime you would try to talk to her, she would quickly dismiss you. But you were ever the persistent type, and you knew you would eventually wiggle your way into her heart.
It had been exactly four months since you met Tara, and the girl was planning a memorable evening for you two to celebrate the milestone in your friendship.
You approached her apartment door and knocked thrice. Within a few seconds, the door slowly opened and revealed a grumpy Sam. “What do you want?” The woman questioned while looking up and down, her eyes moving to your right hand, “Why do you have flowers?”
“These are for you, actually,” you replied with a smile as you handed Sam her flowers. Sam studied you before reaching out and accepting the flowers, “Thanks, I guess.”
Now, Sam would never admit this even if someone held a gun to her head, but the way she felt knowing that you had gotten her real flowers and not some cheap fake ones from the Dollar Store, it was different. No one had ever brought her flowers before, and especially not in a romantic way, if that’s the game you were playing at.
The Latina studied the flowers and couldn’t help but chuckle at them: lavenders and violets; how subtle you were.
“So,” you said with a cheesy smile, “I’m here to hang out with Tara.”
“Tara! Your weird friend is here!” Sam shouted into the apartment before walking into the living room, with you a few steps behind her.
‘Sweet, that’s exactly how I like to be announced,’ you thought while moving to sit on the couch. You silently watched as Sam walked into the kitchen and threw away the flowers, and it pained you to see the beautiful blooms go to waste.
A few seconds passed when an overly excited Tara came into the living room and jumped onto the couch right next to you.
“Alright, here’s the plan: we order pizza, watch a movie and make some cookies, and then drink wine and paint. Deal?” Tara asked with eagerness and a giant smile on her face. “Sounds like a deal,” you replied while matching her grin. “Good,” Tara exclaimed while jumping off the couch and hunting for her phone to call in the pizza.
When the pizza arrived, you and Tara ate at the kitchen table along with Sam and Quinn. Naturally, the dinner was a bit awkward, as Quinn kept on hitting on you, and Sam would glare at you. You weren’t going to lie; you enjoyed the redhead's attention and were more than eager to answer her questions about your hometown and what you were majoring in.
Once you four had finished the pizza off, Tara set up a movie in the living room while Quinn left to go meet up with one of her many gentlemen callers, leaving just you and Sam in the kitchen.
The Latina watched as you pulled out some cookie dough and began preparing. “You know, you could always help,” you said while turning on the oven and pulling out a baking pan, and cleaning it off.
“I’m good,” Sam dryly replied as she crossed her arms and continued watching you work. You felt uncomfortable with her eyes burning into the back of your skull, “Stop staring; you’re creepy as shit.”
Sam huffed at your words before letting out a sound that sounded like a slight chuckle. “You’re one to talk,” the woman retorted while watching you eat a raw cookie dough bite, “you know you can get salmonella and die from that, right?”
You lightly chuckled at Sam’s as you finished eating the cookie dough, “Then I will be the first person in the history of the world to die from salmonella.”
You ignored the quiet ‘thank god,’ Sam muttered under her breath as Tara entered the room. “How are the cookies coming?” The girl questioned while eating a raw piece of cookie dough as well. “There wouldn't be any if you two keep on eating them,” Sam stated as she pushed you away from the pan and set the pieces of cookie dough on it.
“Why did you do that? I am perfectly capable of setting them out myself,” you said while watching Sam finish placing the cookie dough on the pan. “Because you and Tara would just eat it all,” the older woman replied as she put the pan in the oven and closed the door.
“If you say so,” you retorted as you entered the living room with Tara. You sat on the couch first and allowed Tara to cuddle up next to you as she pressed play on the movie.
You two enjoyed the peaceful comfort that had fallen over you when Sam called out, “Cookies are done,” while walking into the living room. “Seriously, you two? Shrek?” Sam asked while she watched the screen. “Yes, Sam. Shrek is amazing,” Tara retorted as she pushed off you and practically flew into the kitchen.
You gave Sam a tight-lipped smile as you walked past her and ate some cookies with Tara. And soon enough, Sam joined you two in the kitchen.
The woman stared at you as you finished your cookie and walked toward you. “You have something on your lip,” Sam said as she reached out and gently wiped away a piece of chocolate from the corner of your lips. You felt your heart explode at the contact and your knees weaken; you thought you would surely die if Sam kept this up.
She let her thumb linger on your lips before gently swiping it across your bottom lip with a smirk on her own lips before walking off to her room. She didn’t know why she did it, but it stirred something in her as she watched your shocked expression and lustful eyes dance across her face.
“What the fuck was that?” Tara asked as she shoved you once Sam was out of earshot.
“Huh uh,” you replied with a love sock grin as you stared at the hallway Sam disappeared into. The more petite girl gave you a look of disgust before pulling you into the living room to drink and paint, but your mind kept on drifting back to the beautiful woman who hated you as you worked. And before you knew it, you had accidentally painted a picture of Sam. In the painting, she was leaning against a doorframe wearing a skin-tight gray long-sleeve shirt that highlighted her muscles with jeans. A casual outfit you had seen Sam wear numerous times, but she still looked breathtaking.
Her eyes amused you the most in the picture; even though it wasn’t a close-up painting, her dark eyes still seemed to pull you in, and you could faintly see the monster she hid behind them.
You fell head over heels for Sam Carpenter that night.
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Once every month, you would go over to Tara’s apartment for wine and painting, and it was probably the one night you looked forward to every month.
Not because you got an excuse to drink and stare lustfully at Tara’s controversial hot sister, but because you enjoyed creating the most horrific art pieces with the girl that no one should ever see.
“What the hell is that?” Tara drunkenly laughed one night after a few too many glasses of wine.
“I don’t know!” You said while watching Tara’s tone. You had created what was supposed to be your version of Sully from Monsters Inc but had made a giant blurb of blue and purple with the slightest resemblance to Ed Sheeran.
“Will you two keep it down?” Sam asked as she walked into the living room, wearing nothing but a bra and shorts.
You choked on your spit when you saw the woman and nearly fainted when a single drop of water ran down her defined abs.
“Sorry about that, Sam,” Tara replied with a drunken smile before returning to her painting, entirely ignorant of your lustful state.
One moment you were sitting next to Tara, and the next, you were in the kitchen next to Sam.
“Hey,” you husked out with a flirtatious smile and a nod as you leaned against the doorframe, trying your best to act sober and calm simultaneously.
“Hi,” Sam suspiciously replied as her eyes racked over your body and took in your drunken state.
“How you doin’?” You asked, and Sam couldn’t help but laugh at your shitty attempt to flirt with her.
“What do you want, Y/N?” Sam asked while getting out a bottle of water and facing you. You shrugged your shoulders as you pushed off the doorframe, “Would you like to come paint with us?”
At the mention of her sister joining in on the activity, Tara yelled from the living room, “Sam! Sammy! You have to come and paint with us!”
Sam sighed at her sister’s words before walking into her room, throwing on a random shirt and grudgingly sauntering into the living room and picking up a blank canvas as she sat beside you.
You three worked in silence as the soft sounds of Hozier filled the air. Sam would occasionally sneak a peek at your work, but you would always hide it. And when she finally got a good look at it, she wished she hadn’t seen it.
“Y/N. Why the fuck did you paint a naked lady?” Sam demanded as she stared at your artwork.
It was a sloppy picture of a woman wearing a white dress with one boob hanging out, and Sam had to admit, those had to be the biggest boobs she’s ever seen. The lady in the painting wore a faint black hat, and somehow, she looked familiar to Sam.
“Do not hate on my lovely wife, Samantha Carpenter. I shall have you know that Lady Dimitrescu is one of the finest women I have ever seen!” You defended while looking over at Sam’s artwork, “And what did you come up with?”
When you leaned over and saw what Sam had made, you couldn’t hide your disappointment. A frown pulled at your lips as you looked at a shitty painting of Sam stabbing you with a knife.
“It was a joke,” Sam whispered as her heart broke at your saddened expression. When she first started it, she felt good about it, and it made her happy. But now that she looked at your hallowed eyes and frowning lips, she wished she hadn't made it.
“No, it’s okay,” you replied as you cleared your throat and stood up, “Well, this has been fun, but I’m going to bed,” you finished as you walked off to Tara’s room and shut the door. You ignored the feeling of Sam’s eyes burning into your back.
“Way to go, Sam,” Tara scoffed as she stood up from the couch and went to her room to check on you. She knew of your feelings for Sam, and Tara tried her best to get her sister to warm up to you, but no matter how hard she worked, Sam refused to bridge.
But Tara didn’t know that Sam went to bed that night with regret plaguing her heart and mind as she went to sleep with the thought of you.
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After that awkward night, you stopped coming to the Carpenter’s apartment as much. At first, you would say that you would have homework to catch up on, which was true, but then after a while, you completely stopped coming over at all.
Of course, you would talk to Tara every day, but when she invited you over, you would miraculously have something else to do that prevented you from coming.
“It’s because of Sam, isn’t it?” Tara asked you. The two of you were back at another frat party for Miles, and you were enjoying a peaceful conversation outside when Tara finally asked the question that had been plaguing her mind for weeks. “Pshh, no,” you replied with a shrug.
“Y/N, stop lying to me; I know it’s because of that picture she made,” Tara stated as she stared up at you, “Sam didn’t mean it.”
You scoffed at your best friend’s words while rolling your eyes. “The fuck do you mean she didn’t mean it, Tara!” You exclaimed.
“I mean, she felt bad afterward.”
“Yeah, right. You’re just lying because you want me to come back over.”
“Yeah, you’re right,” Tara replied with a smile.
You two continued your conversation while occasionally people-watching until it was time to leave. Sam had slowly started to loosen up with Tara, so she was letting her sister go out more as long as she was there to pick up the girl. “Alright, Sam is on her way,” Tara commented when she read a text. You nodded at the girl’s words and tried to hide that you didn’t want to see Sam.
You hadn’t talked to the woman since that night, and you didn’t want to. Even though you were hopelessly devoted to Sam, you were hurt by how she treated you. You had been nice to her, and she would reject all of it, and weirdly, it hurt you to see Sam push you away.
Tara picked up on your pondering thoughts and reached a hand out, and rubbed it up and down your bicep. “Y/N, Sam is a grumpy asshole who is overprotective; don’t take it personally,” Tara said while reaching up to pinch your cheek with a smile.
“I hope I’m not interrupting anything,” Sam said as she approached you two. You quickly slapped Tara’s hand away from your face before looking at Sam. You had missed the dark-eyed woman and were glad to see her again, but you were still upset with the woman.
“No, you’re good,” Tara replied as she started following Sam to her car with you beside her.
The walk back to the vehicle was peaceful and filled with small banter between you and Tara, while Sam kept quiet until you ran into a group of drunken girls.
You could tell that they meant trouble before you were anywhere near them. The group was small, only consisting of three girls, but you could tell they were trouble as they stared down Sam when they walked past.
Sam pulled Tara into her side as the group walked by, and the woman said nothing when one of the girls shoulder-checked her.
“Come on,” Sam whispered while pulling Tara closer to her. You sent the group of girls a glance while walking, and you noticed how they stopped and turned around, and began walking behind you and the sisters.
“Hey!” One of the girls called, and Sam didn’t have time to react when she turned to face the girl and had a red slushie thrown on her.
The girls called Sam anything from a murderer to a liar, even to a whore, but Sam continued walking with tears in her eyes. She could handle all of the conspiracy theorist nuts, but she couldn’t handle having Tara see how she was treated.
So, when one girl called Sam a murderer again, you turned around and threw a punch. The sound of bone crunching rang throughout the air when your fist made contact with the girl's nose and was followed up by the girl's cries.
“You need to get your psycho girlfriend in check, you fucking murderer,” another girl cried out as she checked on her friend. You chuckled at the girl’s words and were getting ready to retort when you received a punch from the third girl.
You stumbled backward into Sam, and to your surprise, she caught you and whispered a quiet “I got you,” while you steadied your feet. “Come on,” Tara said as she dragged you and Sam away from the group.
The three of you walked briskly to Sam’s car as blood poured from your nose. When you reached the car, Sam opened her glove box and handed you some tissues, which you graciously accepted. You sat in the back seat while Sam drove, and Tara tried to talk to you.
“Tara, I love you so much, but I am in so much pain right now,” you choked out as you pressed the tissues to your bloody nose. Tara didn’t want to be the one to tell you this, but your nose was definitely broken, and she was not going to be the one to put it back in place.
“How are you doing back there?” Sam asked while quickly glancing back at you. “My nose is in my brain!” You exaggerated while holding your nose, and Sam chuckled at your response as she continued driving.
When you got to the Carpenter apartment, the blood had stopped pouring out, and you were thanking the gods as it had completely covered the tissues in crimson blood along with your chin. “Sit on the couch; I’ll be right back,” Tara said as she pushed you and Sam onto the couch.
Tara disappeared into the bathroom and grabbed a first-aid kit before returning to the living room, and she laughed at the sight of you and her sister. The slushie on Sam’s shirt matched the blood that had dried on the tissues and stained your chin, and you both looked like you had gone through hell.
Tara moved the coffee table closer to you and started to work on cleaning it up when Sam stopped her. “I got her, Tara. Go to bed,” Sam softly spoke as she moved the first-aid kit closer to her. Tara gave her sister a questionable look before muttering, “Okay,” and walking off to her room.
You watched as Sam pulled out some alcohol wipes and gently cleaned up your nose, and you let out a slight hiss as the alcohol seeped into a cut on the bridge of your nose. “I’m sorry,” Sam apologized as she finished cleaning your nose, “It’s broken.”
“I know,” you groaned, and Sam lightly laughed at your response. “I can pop it back into place for you,” Sam offered.
“Hell no,” you replied, laughing, “I would need lidocaine with epinephrine injected into my nose and then lidocaine sprayed into my nose! Then you would need a device to basically reach my brain and put a shit ton of pressure on my nose with it and your fingers to fix it!”
“Well, I’ll take you to the ER tomorrow so we can get it fixed,” Sam asked as she got up from the couch and saw the backpack you had left over before you went to the frat party with Tara.
“Y/N, what’s this?” Sam asked as she moved your bag and pulled out a painting. You whipped your head around at the woman’s words and instantly stood up from the couch and moved to her side. “That’s nothing,” you quickly said as you tried to prevent Sam from looking at it, but it was too late.
When Sam picked up the painting, she felt her stomach do involuntary flips, and her breath hitched in her throat; it was a painting of her and not just a normal one. She noticed imperfections about her that you saw as perfect through the gentle brush strokes, and she felt herself fall for you.
“I’m not one of your French girls,” Sam joked as she set the painting back down, but you noticed the smile that threatened to appear and how her eyes bravely traveled to your lips before returning to your eyes. “Goodnight, Y/N,” Sam added as she gently placed a small kiss on your cheek before going to her room.
You had no idea how you did it, but you somehow managed to make Sam Carpenter fall for you and you could not wait to see where it would take you.
817 notes · View notes
kitten4sannie · 1 year
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bestie help i can’t stop thinking about fucking older! ateez 😭😭😭 like iMAGINE 50-something year old san or yeosang (or san AND yeosang…👀👀) the way they’d be kinda cocky because of their success when they were younger (and their /experiences/ when they were younger) HHHH and they’d treat y/n like their little princess and when they fuck you theyd be like “does this pretty baby just need a cock inside her little pussy SO bad that she’s willing fuck an old guy like me?“ and girl u KNOW they’re both gonna be buff as FUCK by that age i- i need to stop myself
holy fuck i love you for sending this ask like i am REELING you have no idea 😭😭 i almost went insane typing this out like i am down astronomically for dilf ateez esp older ateez like okay sure 30 year old san/yeo would be fine af but 50 YEAR OLD SAN/YEO??? SIGN ME THE FUCK UP 💳💥💳💥 so yeah i ended up writing an entire fic and i know this wasn’t technically a request but i just had to 😭i dedicate the following to you bestie so i hope i did it justice 🖤
𝙰 𝙲𝚒𝚐𝚊𝚛 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚊 𝚂𝚑𝚘𝚠
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Older! San x Fem! Reader x Older! Yeosang
Genre: smut 
W.C: 3.6k 
Summary: San and Yeosang visit your place of work, hoping to unwind after another long day of being incredibly rich and powerful. 
Warnings: reader is in her early 20s, aged up! san/yeo, dom! san, soft dom! yeo, sansang, brief olfactophilia, cigar smoking, alcohol usage, mentions of age difference, pet names, use of the names sir/Daddy, dirty talk, degradation, super brief masterbation, exhibitionism, voyeurism, fingering, oral (receiving), squirting, two instances of unprotected sex, spanking, hair pulling, creampie, kissing, multiple orgasms, overstimulation 
Song Recs: Planet Girl by Jooyoung feat. pH-1, Lost in the Fire by The Weeknd, Into It by Chase Atlantic, The Walls by Chase Atlantic
Masterlist
➽───────────────❥
You were working at your city’s local upscale cigar lounge when two of your favorite customers came in. Choi San and Kang Yeosang. Though they were both old enough to be your dad, they still were still infinitely hotter than most guys your age. And they knew it too.
As per usual, they were both dressed in fairly casual, but obviously luxury brand clothes. Gucci and YSL, from what you could recognize. You weren’t personally familiar with those brands, but you could tell just from being around the other (usually affluent) customers. Your eyes scanned them, watching them walk from the entrance over to the counter you were standing behind. They were wearing a fair amount of jewelry, the silver and gold accents of their necklaces and bracelets only serving to make the extent of their wealth just a little more obvious to anyone that was near them. Of course, you noticed the sleek buttoned loafers they had on as well, knowing those alone probably cost more than your rent. 
The wrinkles underneath their eyes appeared a little more prominent than usual, the both of them tired and ready to relax at the end of a busy day. San gave you a small wave, resting his hand down on the mahogany counter, his aromatic cologne making its way to your nose. It gave off strong accents of sandalwood, with hints of cinnamon coming through as well. 
“Welcome back, Mr. Choi. Mr. Kang. Your usual?”
San nodded his head, already pulling his leather wallet out of the back pocket of his black pleated trousers. You could tell that they were professionally tailored from the way they perfectly hugged his muscular thighs.
Two Cubans,” you started, already feeling like you were about to lose your cool, but forcing yourself to pull out a small cigar case and opening it up, pushing it in their direction for them to inspect. 
Yeosang stepped closer to the counter to pick up a cigar and make sure it was up to his standards, allowing you to smell his cologne of choice as well. Though it was similar to San’s in terms of it being able to turn you on, it had a much more gentle scent, giving off notes of citrus and lavender. “Forgetting something, dollface?” he questioned, his deep, silky voice permeating in your ears.
“And a bottle of scotch. Single malt,” you added, feeling an obvious knot already beginning to form inside your stomach. You reached for the bottle from the shelf behind you and set it down on the counter, along with an identical set of shot glasses.
“Anything else?” You twirled a lock of hair around your manicured finger and looked Yeosang up and down, who was already doing the same to you. You bit your lip, giving San a once over as well, who returned it with an even hungrier reaction. 
“It depends. Are you on the menu as well, sweetheart? I’d love to find out how you taste,” San questioned confidently in a low, but smooth tone, sliding his platinum credit card into your hand, his slender fingers drifting over yours. 
Yeosang elbowed his friend in the side, giving him a slight grimace. “Have you ever heard of being subtle?”
“Why be subtle when this works ten times faster?” San retorted, rolling his eyes, which prompted Yeosang to open his mouth like he was about to argue with him. 
Unable to ignore the aching in between your thighs, you found yourself giving into one of San’s various attempts at seducing you. Obviously, it was incredibly unprofessional of you, but you were at your wits’ end, unable to resist such a delicious offer.
“I’m…I’m actually off the clock in a little bit…if you two wanted to…you know…” you interrupted in a soft voice, paranoid that your manager would somehow catch wind of what was about to go down all the way from his office.
San and Yeosang exchanged glances, the both of them eventually sharing the same lewd smile.
“Put us down for one of the private rooms,” San informed, watching you press a few things on the screen of your work’s pos system and swipe his card through the reader, his dark eyes zoning in on how tightly your black long sleeve top fit on your body. “You’ll join us as soon as you get off, alright, baby?” 
“Of course, Mr. Choi,” you answered sweetly, handing the older man his card back, along with the key to the room. 
San shook his head slightly, putting the key and his wallet into his pocket, before wrapping his fingers around the neck of the bottle of scotch, passing the two shot glasses to Yeosang. Turning his attention back to you, he stated point-blank, “You’ll be addressing me as Daddy for the rest of the night. Now, let me hear you say it.” 
“Yes…” you started, peering over your shoulder to see if anyone was there, which no one was, thankfully. “Yes, Daddy.” San gave you a pleased smile, elbowing Yeosang just like he had done earlier. 
Yeosang added, “And you can address me as sir, pretty girl.” 
Your eyes flickered over to Yeosang’s brown ones, unconsciously wetting the corner of your lips with your tongue. “See you in a little bit, sir.” 
Yeosang slid a hand into one of his blazer pockets, looking back at you with a small smirk, picturing what you’d look like with his thumb in your mouth. “Don’t take too long, darling.” 
-
Knowing there weren’t cameras set up in the vip room for privacy reasons, you felt like you should be able to relax, but that simply wasn’t happening for you. It was most likely due to the fact that two insanely attractive men were sitting on the velvet couch opposite from you, sharing the strong liquor they had purchased and silently puffing on their cigars, all while undressing you with their eyes. 
“You’ve been thinking about doing this for a long time, haven’t you? Even though we’re thirty years your senior?” San leaned his back against the plush cushion behind him, resting a palm down onto one of his thighs.
“Mmm-hmm,” you nodded, despite gripping your knees so tightly your knuckles turned white, in search of some comfort, wondering if you were even capable of surviving this unbelievably arousing situation. 
“Nervous, baby?” San let out a soft chuckle, taking delight in your predicament, unlike his seasoned counterpart, who was already filling up a glass with the scotch and passing it in your direction.
“Ignore him. Have a drink and relax, okay? We can take things slow, fast, and everything in between. It’s up to you. We don’t even have to do this if you don’t want to,” Yeosang informed, noticing the way you shook your head and took a few gulps of the scotch.
“I want to do this. You two just make me really nervous cuz you’re so…so…” You couldn’t seem to finish your sentence, your mind too occupied with focusing on Yeosang, who had stood up and walked over to you, his elegant frame towering over your own. 
“I understand. Just be sure to let us know if you want us to stop.” Yeosang held the bottom of your chin and tilted it up, running his thumb along your bottom lip. “Nod your head for me, doll.” Once you did so, he hummed to himself. “Good girl,” he added, his words coming out like they were drenched in honey, slowly pushing his thumb past your parted lips.
You could’ve melted right then and then, the strong liquor inside your mostly empty stomach sending a pleasant warmth over the expanse of your body. “Mm,” you moaned softly, sucking on his thumb and looking up at him with half-closed eyes. 
“That’s it…” 
San tapped his cigar near the glass ashtray that was sitting on the small table between the couches, clearing his throat to get his friend’s attention. “Take off her clothes for me, Sangie,” he chimed lovingly, the vapor leaving his mouth, pleased with the sight of Yeosang smiling at him and pulling his thumb out of your mouth with a pop, so that he could pull your top off of you.
-
“Harder. Finger yourself harder, baby. Yeah, just like that,” San groaned, lazily stroking his cock with one hand and still bringing his cigar up to his lips, taking a puff of it now and then. “Are you going to cum for us?”
You were sitting back against the seat with your legs spread, pushing your digits into your cunt as deep as you possibly could, your hand starting to cramp from how long you had been going at it. “I’m trying to, Daddy,” you responded, your tone rising in pitch near the end, tossing your head back from being on the cusp of your orgasm, but not quite getting there. 
“God, you’re so hot. Does your real dad know how much of a slut you are?”
“Uh-uh.” Feeling more pain in your hand than you anticipated, you relaxed it and closed your eyes, sighing out of frustration. You didn’t even notice when Yeosang had gotten onto his knees in front of you, until you felt the flat of his tongue moving up and down your soaking cunt. “Oh, fuck-” 
“Don’t worry, darling. I’ll take care of you,” he murmured, massaging his thumbs into your upper thighs and giving you a reassuring smile, prior to eating you out like you were his first meal of the day. 
“Oh my goddd…” You slumped down slightly against the couch, your fingers pushing past his dyed dark blonde locks, making eye contact with San, who was jerking himself off a little faster than before. 
“How does she taste?” San asked, squeezing his fingers around his cockhead every time he got up to it, a few droplets of pre-cum dripping down the side. 
Yeosang reluctantly pulled his mouth away from you to groan, “She tastes fucking delicious, San,” before replacing his tongue with his fingers, your eager hole swallowing them up to the hilt. 
“I’m jealous.” 
“You should be,” Yeosang chuckled, glancing back at San, as he shoved his digits into you so fast, you thought you might unravel then and there. “Don’t look away either. You’re going to watch me when I make her squirt all over my face.” 
San groaned deeply at his friend’s words, sinking even further into the couch, some of his black hair falling into his eyes. He immediately blew it out of the way so that he could admire the way Yeosang’s tongue was quickly flicking across your clit. “Don’t worry, Sangie. I’m watching…” 
“I’m…cumming…!” It didn’t take long for you to reach your limit, incredibly overwhelmed by all of the pleasure that Yeosang was giving you, as well as from the way that San was drinking in the sight of you and eagerly bringing himself to his own pinnacle of gratification.
A gravelly sounding moan erupted from Yeosang’s vocal cords, holding his mouth open near your pulsing hole and catching most of the clear liquid that squirted out of you on his tongue and in his throat, gulping it down.
“F-uuuuck, that’s so hot…” San choked out, in between grunts, his hips bucking up, just as he shot his load out onto his bare, chiseled abdomen, incredibly relieved that he had unbuttoned his overtly lavish shirt. 
You ran your fingers delicately through Yeosang’s hair, breathing heavily and shuddering when he cleaned up the rest of his arousal with his tongue. “Nnngh, please, sir, let me take care of you too.” 
“No need, doll,” he replied shakily, his porcelain cheeks incredibly flushed and his eyes glossy. Yeosang unbuttoned his velvet pants and pulled them down, along with his tight briefs, revealing his softened, cum-covered length. 
“Oh, wow…” you blushed, bringing a hand up to your mouth and gawking at him, biting back a gasp when Yeosang’s dick started to come alive again just from the way you were looking at it. 
San sighed softly, slicking his slightly damp hair back. “That’s my Sangie, always so eager to please.”
Smiling, Yeosang stood up and walked back to the other couch, sitting down next to San and gathering up some of his own cum, gently moving it up and down his friend’s length to make him hard again.
San groaned in delight, adding, “But enough about him.” He snapped his fingers, gaining your attention, beckoning you in his direction with his index finger. “Come over here and sit on my cock, baby.” 
You almost ran into the coffee table, just narrowly avoiding it and enthusiastically lowering yourself down on San’s lap. “Are you going to fuck me nice and hard, Daddy?” 
“What kind of question is that, sweetheart? It’d be a sin not to.” San grabbed both sides of your ass and kneaded into it with his strong hands, guiding your entrance to his cockhead and pushing himself inside, a few inches at a time, until all nine were inside of you.
“Oh, fuuuuck…” you exhaled, reveling in the feeling of being completely filled up by the man you had been secretly pining for. 
Seeing Yeosang starting to jerk himself off through his peripheral, San began slamming himself into you, right out of the gate, the couch creaking underneath the both of you. “You like watching me fuck her like this, Yeo? Huh? You love it, don’t you?”
Yeosang moaned, moving his hand a bit faster, relishing the dynamic he shared with his friend, as well as the sight of you taking his cock in such an obedient way. “Pull her hair, San…for me…and-fuck-kiss her neck!” 
San followed Yeosang’s directions, bunching up your hair and holding it like you had it up in a ponytail, then pulling it down so you had to look up and expose your neck in the process, earning a strangled sound of pleasure from your lips. “Yeah? You fucking like that?” 
“Uh-huhhh…” You closed your eyes for a moment, shivering when San lazily kissed, lapped at, and sucked on your neck, feeling his warm breath hit your skin whenever he let out a soft pant from how hard he was fucking you.
Yeosang leaned his body weight against San’s, their shoulders and toned arms pressing into one another. “Keep talking to her like that…” he said in a voice barely above a whisper, completely wrapped up in the heavy, intoxicating tension that seemed to swallow the room whole.
“Do you like the way I’m pounding this pretty pussy of yours, baby?” San complied, squeezing his fingers into the sides of your bouncing ass and smacking it a few times, making sure to leave a few handprints. 
“Yes, Daddy…!” 
“Who fucks you better? Me or those twenty-something shitheads you meet on Tinder?”
“You!” 
Yeosang leaned his head down against San’s shoulder, hunching over slightly so that his hand could slide rapidly up and down his throbbing length. “Oh, god…”
“Do you think your coworkers can hear you being a little whore for me? What about that manager of yours? Do you think he knows you’re getting your pussy stuffed by a man way older than him? And being watched by someone who’s just as old?” 
“I don’t care if he does! Fuck me harder!” you cried, almost delirious at this point. 
Yeosang shook his head, letting go of his cock to comment, “Jesus Christ, San, you know I don’t like it when you talk about how old we are. It’s making me go soft.” 
San scoffed, stopping his movements for a moment so that he could casually give Yeosang a side eye, allowing you to bounce on his cock instead, giving you the power to bring yourself to a much-needed state of ecstasy. San groaned out, pressing his head back into the couch, grumbling, “I can’t help that it turns me on, Yeo. Are you really kink-shaming me right now? In the middle of this?” 
“I’m not-”
“Ohhh, I see. You’re just upset she’s not fucking herself dumb on your cock, huh?” San reached over and patted Yeosang’s thigh, giving him a cheeky grin. “Don’t worry, Yeo. Once I empty my load into her, you can have a turn.”
Yeosang’s hand returned to his cock, giving it enough attention so that he could return to the same state of pleasure he was at before, focusing on the way your tits bounced in front of San’s sweaty face. 
“You’ll let me cum inside you, yeah?” San grabbed onto one of your breasts and moved it around, idly tweaking one of your nipples with two fingers, bringing a sharp gasp out of you.
“I…I don’t know…” Though you were on birth control, you dreaded the thought of having to try to keep cum from spilling out of you on the walk out of the building, and including the drive home. What if it stained the seats? And you just got them redone too. That would be-
“Please, baby,” he groaned, the muscles in his thighs tightening, making them go rigid, some of his pre-cum coating your soaked inner walls. “What if I buy you something? You want a pretty little dress? Or what about a new laptop, huh? I’ll even double whatever you get on your paycheck — just let me cum inside you, baby. Please, let me fill this slutty cunt of yours!” 
“Okay, okay! Just hurry up and-” You couldn’t form another word, too preoccupied with the way that San was holding you down, his hot cum filling you up to the brim, to the point that some had to drip down the base of his dick. 
“Ohhhh, god…that’s it…” 
Once San pulled out, Yeosang had already recovered from his own orgasm and picked you up by the waist, effortlessly pulling you into his own lap and immediately replacing San’s cock with his own, growing hard inside you, upon feeling your walls tightening up around his thick length. “It’s my turn, darling.” 
“Oh my god,” was all you could get out, unable to resist the way Yeosang began expertly bucking his hips up into yours, hitting your g-spot almost instantly. “Sir…!” 
“What a good girl you are, taking another cock right after taking mine,” San cooed near your ear, biting the shell of it and slamming his palm into your ass, causing you to cry out. 
“Does that feel good, angel?” Yeosang spoke up, peppering your sensitive neck with kisses, his calloused hands running up and down along the curves of your body, eventually settling on your tits and cupping them. 
“Y-esss, so fucking good…!” You were about to explain how amazing it felt in further detail, but you were silenced when the man’s lips suddenly pressed onto yours, his tongue slipping into your slightly open mouth. You wrapped your arms around his neck, appreciating how desperate he was to kiss you, to explore your mouth so fervently, as though he had a time limit. 
San moved even closer to the both of you, grabbing the opposite side of your chin and pulling you towards him, breaking the kiss and allowing small ropes of spit to fall from your lips. “Let me have a taste,” he mumbled, pressing his mouth onto yours and kissing you in a more sloppy, but still passionate manner. 
Being stimulated in so many ways at once sent you over the edge, feeling your pussy clenching around Yeosang’s length, just as a large amount of arousal splashed out onto it. “Mmmnnn!” 
“How many times did you cum for us, baby? I bet you can’t even count,” San mused, gently pushing your face away and reaching down in between your heated bodies, rubbing your swollen clit. “Cum again, babydoll, so you can brag about it to your little friends on your social media later.” 
“I…ahhhh….” Your eyes were rolling back into your skull, your head and body pulsing with mind-numbing delight, barely able to keep any sort of grasp on reality.
Yeosang pumped himself into you at such a fast speed, San could barely keep his fingers on your clit, but still managed to play with it long enough that their combined efforts sent you into a fit of pleasure-induced hysteria. 
All you could get out was a string of yeses, while quite a few tears fell down your warm cheeks, hardly noticing when Yeosang wiped them away and pulled out of you, just in time for his cum to land on your chest and abdomen in slow spurts.
Almost passing out, you pulled off of Yeosang and settled in between the two older men, huffing and puffing until the flood of endorphins that had previously rushed to your brain finally mellowed out. 
After a few moments of comfortable silence, San reached for his half-filled glass of scotch and took a small sip of it, then leaned back against the couch, spreading his arms across the top of it. “So, laptop it is, then?” he asked, nudging your thigh with his own. 
You sucked your teeth, shaking your head slightly. “Mm, I’ll take the money. And if we do this again, would you consider tripling the amount if I let you cum inside me as much as you want?” 
San sighed softly, facing you and giving you what could only be described as heart eyes, prior to looking past you at Yeosang, who was too busy sending a proud smile your way. “I think I’m in love,” San admitted, drumming his fingers lightly against the couch. 
Yeosang reached over to you so that he could caress your cheek, earning a small sound of approval from you. “Get in line, pal.” 
➽───────────────❥
(i figured i would tag everyone for this since it was a full-fledged fic lol)
Tags: @dazzlinglight @thefinerthingz3 @cloudysannie @aryraaaa @za-con @cosmiczen @choerryge @aikyubi @arusio @gueritaybonita @i-l0v3hands @ethicalz @jinsonaz @kitty4hwa @jexidamulti @as-she-pleases @purplechannie @lilactiny @jazzymoore @kodzukein @asjkdk @cherryxsang @namsloverr @chanst1ddies @woo-stars @createyour0wnworld @roarmingi @simeonswhore @k0rean-big-mini0n @fairyoftaehyun @bls-luv-me @lavanyasingh04 @igotlockedout @fl0r4f4wn @miriamxsworld @mork-ly @woosmaid @kawaiikels @azcon @merciluv-blog @atzcrime @lovekeeho @sup-dallyboy @allofuswantgwinam @breezy-simp @Eastleighblogs @singularity777
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© toxicccred, 2022.
1K notes · View notes
moonchildstyles · 2 years
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y/n is a makeup artist and she doesn't think she's ever had a better halloween
wordcount: 26.5k+
—————
Harry Lambert wants to message you!
The notification pinged at the top of (Y/N)'s phone, the familiar Instagram icon shining in a rainbow gradient. It wasn't too odd that someone was requesting to DM her professional page, but it was the name that caught her eye. She knew she recognized it, whether it be through the chatter in the beauty world or simply someone she used to know, she couldn't put her finger on it. That's what made her open this request amid the couple of dozen from strangers that still went unanswered.
Hello! I'm a personal stylist and I have a client with a couple of important events scheduled on October 30th and 31st and we were looking for a makeup artist for the looks we had planned. I came across your work and from what I've seen, I think you'd be perfect for what we're looking for! If you're interested, let me know and we can talk about details!
If not for the familiar name (and shining blue checkmark), (Y/N) would have written off the message completely. The lack of details made her suspicious, but it was easy enough to swipe to his profile and snoop on the legitimacy of his claim. A quick scroll of his feed showcased editorial-like photographs, some in subdued filters while others were vivid and surreal, but each one showcased bold makeup looks accompanying Gucci-esque, avant-garde style choices made by the man himself. While the pictures were beautiful, she didn't spot anything recognizable that would explain why she knew his name.
Until she found a photo of Harry Styles draped in a Gucci suit at the Brits.
That's how she knew him.
Scrolling further, she found the now iconic leather suit Harry Styles wore to the Grammy's, green feather boa and all posted to the feed. Now that she knew what to look for, the further and further down she looked at Harry Lambert's posts, more and more of Mr. Styles could be found on his page. It all made sense now, how she had heard this name before.
His name had been printed in Vogue, GQ, Cosmo, Allure literally anywhere that paid any attention to fashion and how Harry Styles was setting trends and shifting the view of what clothing represented in terms of individuality and self-expression. Each one mentioned Harry Lambert, the same person that was in her DM's currently, and his eccentric styling choices.
And he wanted her to be a part of 'upcoming events' for a client of his.
Swiping away from the profile, (Y/N) opened up the awaiting message. Underneath Mr. Lambert's username, a small green dot resided, indicating he was online.
Thank you so much for reaching out! I'm definitely interested!! What type of event is this for?
—————
It was raining when (Y/N) stepped out of LaGuardia airport, the holding area for waiting Ubers crowded with both tourists and true New Yorkers ready to hit the road. The difference was easy to spot in the way she and her assistant, Vera, fit in much better with the brightly dressed tourists that held wonder in their eyes over what the city less than ten miles away held, while the people returning home looked ready to scream if one more tourist said anything about the Statue of Liberty.
New York was a definite change to the L.A. area that typically drove (Y/N)'s portfolio.
Nonetheless, she couldn't be more excited to be here. After getting more details from Mr. Lambert about what kind of event he was wanting her assistance on, she had an out of body experience when he revealed it was for a pair of Harry Styles concerts scheduled for the Halloween weekend, affectionately dubbed 'Harryween'. But, (Y/N) remained as professional as she could while asking for more information and eventually passing along her professional number so they could speak over the phone.
Since the event was so far out at the time, there were only so many details to be shared concerning what kind of costumes Mr. Styles was going to wear along with the preferred makeup that he wanted to go along with the looks. It was then she learned that not only was she being called in to serve Mr. Styles, but the rest of his band of six other musicians, making it a two person job with Vera needing to tag along. Most of the remaining information given was time and place with a few mockups of what the costumes were to look like when they were finally finished (the Dorothy plan was her personal favorite). But that had been months ago, just before Harry Styles embarked on his Love On Tour run around America.
Today, Mr. Styles and his team were to be in New York for a few days, readying for a pair of shows at Madison Square Garden before going on the road again (only to return a week later for another show at the same venue, then return again at the end of the month for Harryween). When corresponding with Mr. Lambert, they decided this would be a good time for her to come out, meet with them, and get an idea of what she was getting herself into. The costumes had been finalized only days prior to their scheduled meeting, the garments being shipped out from Alessandro Michele himself, Gucci labels stitched inside every custom piece, making it much easier to get a clear idea of how Mr. Styles wanted his face painted.
She had been floored when they offered to fly her out—not only once, but twice for both the meeting and the shows themselves!—and put her up in a hotel for the time being, especially when she mentioned she would be needing another person's help, but it was as if the extra cost didn't even register. Mr. Lambert had only sent back a 'Perfect!!' accompanied by a grinning emoji, the idea of another body being added to the mix never swaying him.
That was how she found herself with shaky hands wrapped around the handle of her suitcase, with native Californian Vera beside her shivering from the chilled drizzle raining from the sky.
"This is why I never wanted to come to New York—even for fashion week," Vera chattered next to her, huddled close as if layers of clothing she put between herself and the forty degree weather weren't enough.
"You'll be fine," (Y/N) laughed, stepping out of the way as a man who looked too preoccupied with the phone in his hand to be courteous of those around him raced towards his waiting Uber, "We'll be inside most of the time anyway, then we'll be home again by Friday, where it'll be seventy-five degrees and sunny for you."
Vera grumbled something about it not being soon enough under her breath, something (Y/N) ignored in favor of checking on her phone for the status of her ride. After finding they still had another five minutes of waiting (and Vera's complaining) before their driver would be here, another text from Mr. Lambert came through.
I hope you had a good flight and welcome to love on tour! Let me know when you and Vera are settled and Harry and I will come by and meet you both! x
The fact he welcomed her as if she were a real part of this production drew a glowing smile on (Y/N)'s features. Since being asked to be apart of the project, (Y/N) went out of her way to learn more about what she was now playing a small role in. She kept up with each show, noting the evolving uniform Mr. Styles wore on stage and the absolute showmanship that went into every, single concert. It was an honor to be a part of something that was so clearly impactful for everyone involved, especially Mr. Styles himself and the thousands of adoring fans that flooded the venues every night.
Sending him back a quick message, (Y/N) suddenly felt light on her feet again as if the six hour flight didn't happen and she wasn't completely thrown off by the new timezone they entered. She was about to meet two of her newest idols and officially join a production that had wiggled its way into her heart the more she learned about it. There was no room for low energy when her brain was already racing with what kind of looks she was going to have the privilege of painting onto Mr. Styles' face.
"I think that's us," (Y/N) peeped through her smile, spotting what looked like it could be the 2009 Nissan Altima that was tasked with picking them up (she had to Google what those even looked like when she received what make and model to be looking out for).
Vera jumped at the opportunity to sit in a warm car as if she'd been in the rain for longer than the seven minutes they spent on the corner. She all but dragged (Y/N) to the car, popping her head through the rolled down window and double checking their driver's name before stashing their luggage in the trunk.
"Finally," she sighed, sinking into the faux leather seat, warm air pulsing right in her face.
"Are you not even a little excited to be here?" (Y/N) questioned, tone light and teasing despite the fact she was now getting a little worried Vera wasn't as happy as she was.
"You know I am," she said, rolling her head on the rest behind it, "this is an insane opportunity, and we get to work with Harry fucking Styles. Of course, I'm excited, I just don't like the cold and I'm always heavily reminded of that the second I step out of California."
"Well, just pretend like you don't know its cold out when you meet them. I don't want either of them to think we don't want to be here," (Y/N) directed, grabbing for her phone to double check the room reservation for their hotel.
Vera agreed with a sigh, keening like a cat under the warm air blowing through the cab, leaving (Y/N) to look out in wonder at the slowly approaching city.
—————
"Is that them right there?"
(Y/N)'s followed the discreet point of Vera's finger, finding a pair of men huddled in a corner of the hotel lobby. One was clearly Mr. Lambert with his head of bleach blonde cropped hair, beaded necklaces around his neck and nails a brightly colored pink as he gesticulated around his words. The other was much more quietly dressed, only a pair of black athletic shorts (in this kind of weather, she had to assume there was something a little insane about that choice) and a heavy, baggy hoodie with the word Pleasing scrawled over it in white ink. A faded blue hat concealed what she was sure was a wave of iconic brown curls underneath, the blue of the cap matching the checkerboard pattern on his dirty Vans.
That was Harry Styles.
A folder full of blank face charts as well as a few marked with her ideas began to shake against her chest, her hands a little unsteady now that he was right in front of her. For the brief moment she had left before Vera would undoubtedly tug her towards them, (Y/N) allowed herself to feel all the nerves and anticipation she wanted now that she was going to meet someone she had become enamored with in the last months. She'd never met anyone as important as him—as widely known and loved as Harry Styles himself—while working in California, despite the promises that had been made that L.A. was the land of stars that were just aching for a so-called 'glam squad'. And, she definitely never met anyone who just seeing photos of made her heart bubble.
But, once those seconds passed, that reprieve she was offered just before Vera's grip tightened on her elbow, she reminded herself that this was her client.
Until the moment the curtains dropped on October thirty-first, and his show was over, he was going to be her client. He wasn't going to be Harry Styles, the man who's Instagram she shamelessly stalked since the day she was offered the job, the man who's tour she was more than up to date with, and who's discography was no doubt going to be in the top slots of her year end streaming stats. He was going to be Mr. Styles, a kind and well-paying client who wanted the best of her services for two very important events in his career.
Though the smallest part of her brain continued to rattle as she heard Vera whisper I think it is before resolutely tugging (Y/N) to the concealed corner of their hotel lobby, she took in a deep breath and boxed away all of her nerves and excitement as best she could. That box was then shoved to the furthest corner of her mind, only to be unpacked when she was safely by herself and could properly freak out.
Mr. Lambert noticed them first, falling silent as he whipped his head in their direction. A bright smile and a wave greeted them, clearly recognizing (Y/N). Mr. Styles was quick to find who his colleague was distracted by, his own tanned face breaking into a soft-lipped smile, dimples in his cheeks, once she caught sight of the two girls approaching.
"(Y/N), love," Mr. Lambert beamed when they drew close enough, reaching out towards her as if they were old friends, "How was the flight?"
Vera's hand on her arm slipped away as Mr. Lambert drew (Y/N) in for a friendly hug, careful of the folder tucked into her chest. Some of the tension glittering in her spine dwindled at the warm welcome, a quick reminder that as much as she admired them, in that moment, she was a colleague to them.
"It was really good—long, but we made it," she smiled, drawing away to allow him to see the matching smile on her face, "Thank you for asking, Mr. Lambert."
His features pinched at her words, brows drawing together in displeasure, "Don't have to call me that—I'd prefer if you didn't actually. Making me sound old. Harry is just fine, darling."
She resisted the urge to apologize, reminding herself she was a colleague and not someone she trying to impress into being her friend. Instead, she nodded her head and said, "Okay, Harry."
At the sound of her words, the man beside them perked up. "Hm?" he hummed, responding to the call of his name.
"She was talking to me, Sue—not everything's about you, you know," Harry (Lambert, that is. She realized this was going to be hard to keep straight) teased, eyes narrowed towards Harry (Styles).
"You're so mean to me," he grumbled in response, a sly smile coloring his features as he bumped Harry L. with his shoulder. Directing his attention to (Y/N), Mr. Styles stuck his hand out for her to shake, "(Y/N), right?"
"That's me," she beamed, resisting the urge to rock on the balls of her feet like a schoolgirl in puppy love, "It's nice to finally meet you, Mr. Styles."
All the stories about him and the relentless eye contact he favored, (Y/N) found to be true in that moment. None of the photographs or videos did the color of his eyes justice, the green of his iris floating like a lilypad in his sclera. It was grounding, anchoring her to the moment, at the same time his attention took her somewhere else entirely.
"Th-This," she stuttered, gesturing to her left where Vera was patiently waiting, though (Y/N) was sure there were thousands of teasing remarks in her head waiting to bubble up the second they were alone, "is Vera. She's going to be helping out with the rest of the band and everything else for the shows."
Mr. Styles was the first to greet her with a warm smile on his face, reaching a tan hand out to shake. (Y/N) listened to his muttered greeting, the words a quiet rumble in their concealed corner before Mr. Lambert offered a brief hug as a welcome gesture. She took a step back as Vera bubbled her thanks for the opportunities and excitement for being here, completely disregarding the sour mood she had landed in New York with.
"There's a little cafe here at the hotel," Mr. Lambert said, addressing the group of them, "and I was thinking we could sit down and discuss ideas there. H has to get to soundcheck in a couple of hours, but I think that should be enough time to get some plans made, right?"
Mr. Styles—H—nodded his head, his eyes flitting over to (Y/N), "Need to be out of here by two-thirty at the latest, I think. Is that enough time for you?"
(Y/N) perked up at his attention, clutching her face charts tighter to her chest, "Yeah, that's fine! I brought a couple of ideas already, so we'll have somewhere to start, hopefully."
Mr. Lambert chattered off a perky Perfect! before peering down the lobby, searching for the directions for the so-called cafe. He herded them in the right direction, Mr. Styles falling in step beside his stylist, asking him something about the final touches on the night's outfit. Vera was quick to grab for (Y/N)'s elbow, her eyes wide with a sly smile curling on her lips.
"What was that back there?" she whispered, grip pulsing on (Y/N)'s arm as if that would extract more information from her, "I've never seen you get all stuttery like that around clients."
"I was just—I mean... He was—"
"Oh my god, do you like him?"
(Y/N)'s feet stuttered, her toe catching on the expensive marble printed tile under her feet, "Vera, be quiet! I was just really looking forward to this and it took me off guard that he was right there, you know?"
Vera let out a disbelieving hum as the entrance to the cafe came into view. "Sure," she smiled with a shake of her head.
The cafe was cute, (Y/N) decided when they stepped into the Parisian-esque set up that went with the French vibed hotel. The hostess came in the form of a barista behind a pastry counter, machines for any kind of coffee to be dreamt up gleaming behind the set up. Others dressed in the same cranberry hues of the uniform scuttled around the almost-empty cafe, the only occupied tables coming in the form of one clearly hungover woman nursing a black coffee, and the other housing someone talking loudly on a Zoom call with the volume all the way up. Apparently, they were planning a family reunion, but Aunt Beatrice was still pissed that Gwenyth didn't ask her to cater her wedding.
Interesting.
A sign by the entrance instructed guest to seat themselves and order at the counter when ready. Mr. Lambert walked in like he knew the place well, picking one of the tables in the corner of the set up, furthest from the entrance and from the Zoom call as they could be. (And, (Y/N) figured, away from prying eyes that might notice that this was literally Harry Styles and possibly leak his location as well as ask for photographs).
"This alright?" he asked, turning to Mr. Styles.
Tugging on his hat as if to lower it over his features, Harry nodded, sinking into one of the seats tucked into the corner of the boothed side of the table. He offered a small smile with raised brows as (Y/N) approached with Vera on her arm, a silent question of if they were alright with the placement as well.
"This is perfect! (Y/N), you first," Vera chirped, cutting (Y/N) off before she could even fathom responding.
Though it was gentle, Vera still shoved her towards the seat across from Mr. Styles, making it clear what she thought of (Y/N)'s excuse of being nothing more than excited at the business opportunity of working with him. He only gave her a soft smile as she settled in across from him, (Y/N) taking in a breath before dropping her eyes to the folder she laid on the table in front of her.
"I'm going to go up and order really quick, did anyone want anything?" Mr. Lambert asked as he stood at the end of the table, his bag tucked under his arm as he gestured behind him with a jerk of his thumb.
Vera didn't even finish dropping into her seat beside (Y/N) when she heard the words. She immediately popped up, offering to go along with him to order for both she and (Y/N).
"Croissant and chai latte, right?" she smiled at (Y/N). All that was missing was the sly wink she knew she would have given if not for the man sitting on the other side of the table. (Y/N) gave a still nod, feeling her blood pressure rise knowing that she was about to be alone with Harry Styles.
She distantly heard Mr. Lambert verify Harry's order—a plain black coffee—before their companions left to the front counter. (Y/N) had always prided herself on how easy she was able to pick up small talk and form a true conversation out of the topics; the beauty industry forced a lot of close contact with clients right up in her face, it would be odd and uncomfortable if she didn't find any minuscule topic to blabber about while blending eyeshadow. But in that moment, she'd never been more blank-minded, no matter the goldmine of topics carved into her brain that pertained to Harry Styles himself and all of the wonderful things she had learned about him in her research process.
But, only a beat passed before she heard the same rumbling voice from earlier pipe up from right across from her, drawing (Y/N)'s eyes away from the pastry counter their friends were browsing.
"Thank y'for coming out, by the way. I jus' realized I never properly thanked you," Harry smiled, dimples deep in his cheeks.
"Of course," she beamed, hiding her restless fingers under the table where she fiddled with her polished nails, "This is really an amazing opportunity to work with you and be a part of your tour, so thank you, Mr. Styles."
He waved off her formality, "Don't need to call me that. Jus' call me H, please."
(Y/N) remembered reading that most of his friends called him by that moniker. Though she was sure she was getting way too ahead of herself, her heart still skipped a beat at the implication.
"He and I had been looking for someone to come do the makeup for tonight for a few weeks before I found your page," he continued, having no idea how her nervous system was buzzing under her skin. The eye contact she was sure she was going to have to train herself to get used to, especially when he was in her makeup chair, returned. Lillypad green bright against his dark, curling lashes. "I love your work, especially the editorial things I've seen on your website. I was so happy to hear that y'were interested in helping us out and willing to travel cross-country for this. 'M really excited to work with you, so, really, thank y'for being here, (Y/N)."
So, it had been him that had found her page and liked it so much that he passed it along to his stylist to message her. Now, if she was concerned about her heartrate before, she worried she was going to have to have Vera call 911 after this.
There was something about the idea of him searching through his Instagram and passing on much more established and well-known artists before finding her page. He took the time to pursue her feed before clicking the link in her bio to see more examples of her art. And he liked what he found. Though she was sure they were not at all on the same level, the fact that there could be even a small amount of admiration on his end for the things she put into the world the same way she admired everything about his decade-long career was enough to make her want to scream into her pillow in her suite upstairs.
"Of course, H. There's no where else I'd rather be."
His grin widened at the emphasis on his nickname, a beat passing as his eyes dropped to his phone he had laying face down on the table. "Has Lambert shown y'any pictures of the costumes yet? We jus' got them in a couple days ago."
She perked up at the mention of the outfits she'd been eager to see the final product of since she was shown those mock-ups so long ago. "No, he hasn't. I didn't know you got them in already," she bubbled off, "Do you love them?"
"I do, yeah," he responded, reaching for his phone before unlocking it with a swipe, "They're everything I pictured when I talked to Alessandro about them."
At the casual mention of the creative director of Gucci, (Y/N)'s smile widened. How cool must it be to be friends with people like him.
Harry swiveled his phone around to show her the photo displayed on the screen. A yellow, velour covered mannequin was set in the center of the picture with a blue gingham dress draped over the form. This was the Dorothy outfit they had proposed, she realized. The idea had come a long way from the mockup she had seen.
The details were extraordinary, adding to the overall look with things she wouldn't have even thought to add. From what she could decipher through the pixels, it looked like there were glittering strawberries printed over the fabric, breaking up the baby blue pattern of the gingham that was quintessential to Dorothy glam. White detailing was placed all throughout the costume to the white, puffy, bloomers under the dress and the open collar at the top. Crystalline buttons were placed down the front, stopping at the high waist of the dress where a bow was stationed to be right under Harry's chest when he put it on.
"That's so cute," she praised, jaw dropped and eyes wide as she directed her attention to him behind his phone, "The little strawberries are everything."
"Yeah?" Harry smiled proudly, angling the phone just enough for the both of them to see as he leant across the table, "Those were m'idea." He swiped his finger across the  screen, pulling up a photo of a pair of boots with red crystal detailing. "I've got these shoes to go with it, and a pair of  red tights 'm going to wear under it all. I don't have a picture of the bow, but I got one made from the extra fabric to put in m'hair and then I think Lambert is having one of his assistants put together a basic for me to carry m'Toto dog in, too."
(Y/N) pictured all the details as best she could, finding the entire look come together. Now that she had more information, all she wanted to do was break out her face charts and improve upon the ideas she'd had prior to coming out to New York.
They were going to need more blush, that was for sure.
Just as more praises were to fall from her lips, Vera and Mr. Lambert returned to their table with careful hands full of pastries and coffee. "Are you showing her the costumes, H?" he asked, setting a vegan spinach quiche and black coffee in front of H.
"Yeah," Harry smiled, angling the phone to show Mr. Lambert, "Was jus' telling her about the bag you and the girls are putting together for m'Toto puppy."
"Oh!" he sounded as he fell into his chair across from Vera, "Don't let me forget to ask Claudia how that's coming along before we get to the venue."
H only nodded his head before mumbling that he would set a reminder right then. Vera slid a croissant and the latte in front of (Y/N) in the silence, a heart having been created in the foam of her chai latte.
"Toto?" she asked, settling in at (Y/N)'s side, "Like the Wizard of Oz?"
"Exactly!" Mr. Lambert smiled over the rim of his coffee cup, "Night one is going to be Wizard of Oz themed with H being Dorothy and the rest of the band dressed as the other characters. Night two we're doing an Italian, glamorous take on clowns, right?"
"Mhm," H nodded, showing the other side of the table another set of photographs from his camera roll, "'S not scary or anything like that. We're going for more ruffles than murderous tendencies, I'd say."
Vera lent in close to (Y/N)'s side in search of a view of Harry's phone. On the screen was the same velour mannequin from the Dorothy pictures, now donned in a white, fluffy mass of lace and organza with tulle accents. It was a suit this time, full paints and a blouse with a black moon and stars stitched across the chest. At the neck there was a full collar piece, lace and sparkles and more ruffles tying the look together with a pair of flat lace up sneakers that matched the cream of the costume.
During the same conversation Mr. Lambert had introduced the Dorothy idea to her, he had mentioned they still had the other set of costumes in the works, nothing too concrete other than Harry wanted something completely different than what people were expecting (she remembers a Rocky Horror Picture Show set up being tossed out there before never hearing of it again). This was definitely not what she was expecting would have come together, but she loved it. It was different, but still so delicate that it seemed perfectly Harry and perfect for the Love on Tour she'd been an avid follower of.
"Is the whole thing lace?" (Y/N) asked, flicking her gaze to Harry.
"Most of the top is, yeah," he explained, nodding his head as he took his phone back, "But the pants are made of more satin than anything else. Figured that half needed to be a little less see-through."
(Y/N) had to make a choice not to think so hard about that comment. Not when it was already hard enough to remember he was a client.
A lopsided smile curled his lips, only a single dimple denting his cheek as he locked his phone and set it to the side. Tracing his eyes between the two women before him, Harry reached for the fork beside his slice of quiche, "Do y'have a favorite between the two?"
Though the mannequin had nothing on Harry's physique (there was no way the shoulders were as broad as the man before her), just the idea of the Dorothy dress stretching across the width of his body was enough to earn it first place in her eyes. And the strawberries were adorable.
"I think the Wizard of Oz set is perfect," (Y/N) shared, absently reaching for her latte to warm her fidgeting palms, "There's so much we can do with that. I have a few face charts already made up, but now seeing the costume, I feel like we could do a little more."
"You've got face charts already done up?" Mr. Lambert questioned, picking at the flaky layers of his own croissant, "What do you have?"
Though she was nervous to share her ideas with people she admired, (Y/N) had never been more excited to pull out these face charts. She just wanted to make everything perfect for these shows and for Harry.
Especially for H. She wasn't going to let him down.
—————
The soft sound of a the default iPhone alarm interrupted (Y/N) as she explained the diffused blush shape she wanted to go with for the clown costuming. The table fell silent as all eyes were directed to H's orange cased phone, the alarm he had set to not only remind Mr. Lambert to contact his assistant, but to act as a warning for the last five minutes of time they had left before he needed to head to the venue, started going off in the cafe.
"Don't forget to text Claudia," H absently muttered to his stylist as he reached for his phone, snoozing the alarm before giving his attention back to (Y/N) and the notes she had scribbled on the face chart. He gave her an apologetic smile, "Sorry to cut this short, I've got to get back soon."
"It's okay, I totally understand," she smiled, reaching for the completed face charts scattered over their table, "We still got a lot done."
Not only was both of Harry's looks in the final stages (Mr. Lambert wanted a breakdown of the exact wear time of the shades she was thinking before giving full approval) but Vera and Mr. Lambert had finished up more than half of the band's looks with (Y/N) popping in every now and then with her own expertise or suggestion. If Vera's plan had been to have (Y/N) work almost completely alone with H, she had succeeded, and (Y/N) was in no position to lie and say she was mad about it.
The entire meeting had gone like a dream once (Y/N) settled, falling into the work that fulfilled her. Nothing was more exciting than having a client add their own twists and flare to the look (within reason, of course, something that Beverly Hills housewives trying to look thirty years younger didn't realize). Harry was excited about each of the things she offered, and even pushed it further with a request for more of the bright red blush to be applied to the apples of his cheeks when dressed as Dorothy, and his band to have dramatic swipes of color applied to their faces for the jester costumes.
She was sad that it was cut short just as they were working on his own paint for the second Harryween show.
"Are y'coming to the show tonight?" Harry asked, handing her one of the face charts that had drifted to his side of the table. His multi-colored nails shown in the low lights of the cafe, but (Y/N) couldn't even try to decipher what shades he had used when their fingertips brushed as she took the page from him.
His skin was undeniably warm against her's, fingertips soft though tough enough to be strumming his guitar every night. The contact lasted for something of a second, but felt as if she had chugged down another chai latte, this one infused with a shot of espresso and the same red glitter that accented his Dorothy costume.
(Y/N) hadn't even been aware that her response was lagging until Vera elbowed her, "Are we?"
"Going to the show? I-I don't think so," (Y/N) stuttered, occupying her hands with the shuffling of her face charts.
"Do y'want to?
Eyes widening at his words, (Y/N) drew her attention from the folder to match the unfailing eye contact she was slowly getting used to. "Hm?"
"Did y'want to come to the show tonight? I know the guy playing, so I think I could pull some strings," he smiled, a lopsided curve with an amused glimmer in his green eyes.
"Harry, that's so—Thank you," (Y/N) sputtered, her heart rising to her throat at idea of getting to go to one of the shows she'd only seen videos of before. The ass speech only got funnier the more she heard it. "Vera can come with me, right?"
"Of course, yeah," Harry nodded, his smile wide on his raspberry lips. With another glance at his phone, his grin shrunk the smallest bits at the edges, "We've really got to go, but I'll see you tonight, right? If 'm not able to, I'll have Lambert send y'the details on where to go and everything, yeah?"
(Y/N) didn't even attempt to hold back her smile as they rose to their feet in the now empty cafe (the family reunion guy left about an hour earlier, thank goodness). "Yeah, that's perfect," she breathed, nudging Vera gently with the point of her elbow.
"Yeah, thank you, H," Vera bubbled off, heeding (Y/N)'s cue.
With the smile that H gave them before being herded to the lobby with the help of Mr. Lambert, (Y/N) felt like she was floating as she followed after them. Short goodbyes were shared at the entrance of the hotel, Mr. Lambert doling out hugs to the girls while H kept quiet with a shake of their hands though his hold lingered on (Y/N)'s.
As she watched them leave through the glass doors out to the New York sidewalk, all (Y/N) could think about was what she was going to wear tonight.
—————
With the lights down and fans screaming all around her, (Y/N) almost completely missed the sound of the Bukowski poem being recited through the loud speakers.
The band she would be working with closely at the end of the month filtered on stage, taking their respective spots before the beginning of Golden ticked through the arena.
It was then that a panel in the middle of the round opened up and revealed Harry dressed in an all black suit, chest left bare with the sleeves of his jacket decked out in feathers. A dimpled grin morphed his features into something almost god-like in the stage lighting, a guitar in his hands as he sauntered to one of the four microphones set up.
He was more than what she had seen in videos, completely transfixing before he even opened his mouth and even more enchanting when he finally did. Confidence radiated from each of his movements. He knew what he was doing and he was going to give this entire arena the show of their lives.
God, (Y/N) couldn't wait for October thirtieth.
—————
(Y/N) could only laugh at Vera's complaining as they stepped out of the Uber, rounding to the trunk where their kits were housed.
"How did it only get colder from the last time we were here?!" Vera whined, making a show of tugging out her case as if it weighed one thousand pounds and not ten.
"Because its almost winter, maybe?" (Y/N) quipped, aware of the string of fans dressed to the nines walking past them with prying gazes.
Despite Vera's complaints about the weather, it seemed she was the only one put off by the chill in the air. In honor of the 'fancy dress' code for the event, fans were decked out in costumes with no other purpose than to look as glamorous or spooky as possible for Harryween.
Many renditions of Harry Styles himself passed by, people dressed in high-waisted trousers and billowing blouses, leather suits with feather boas, or simply something seventies inspired with leathers and glitter draped over their forms. Others had taken cues from his music and videos, dressing as some of the girls from the Watermelon Sugar video, or even the fish from the Adore You shoot. More than one flower-powered hippie and glamorous zombie crossed their paths, trails of flowers and feathers were left on the sidewalk of the arena where everyone was lining out front for their pit tickets (Y/N) was sure they fought hard for.
Looking at the professional, all black outfit that adorned her form, (Y/N) wished she had followed her instinct and just worn the costume she brought along. Everyone looked so wonderful and she was sad she wasn't a part of the vision for the night.
Following the same directions given the first time they were at this venue, (Y/N) and Vera were escorted through a back entrance through the arena to where Harry and the band were awaiting their call time to get ready.
The Garden was celebrating the occasion with Halloween decorations posted through out the halls, more than one sign decreeing to "Trick or Treat People with Kindness" catching her attention.
"Have you talked to him at all since we left?" Vera whispered, her voice concealed from the sound of her heels clacking against the concrete floor.
"Who?" (Y/N) peeped, keeping her eyes trained on the security guard guiding them through the twisting hallways.
"Harry," Vera said, her inflection practically saying duh.
(Y/N) shrugged, "A little, yeah. Mostly right after we'd left he just asked how the show was and how the flight home went, but I haven't heard much from him since. Why?"
Vera only hummed in response, the same sly smile on her features that she always got now when Harry was brought up. (Y/N) hadn't been able to live down the moment when Vera caught her going through his photographer's Instagram in search of photos from the tour she hadn't seen yet.
Though it felt like they had walked miles in circles, the security guard finally led them to the main stage area. The last time she had seen this place, it was packed with people yelling, screaming, and singing at the top of their lungs while Harry Styles' presence filled in every inch of the limited free space left between patrons. Now, it was completely empty, a traditionally styled stage positioned on the other end of the arena replacing the trailing catwalks and the round he spent his time on the last time she was here.
In the middle of it all were three people, one that she recognized easily in a navy blue baby-tee with a smiley face printed on the chest, while the other two were still a mystery so far away. After thanking the security guard, he made his quick exit, a crackling coming from the handheld radio hooked into one of his belt loops before he disappeared down the stretch of hallways.
The static sound drew the attention of the three others, a bright smile gleaming on a familiar face once he realized who was here.
"(Y/N)!"
It took everything in her not to melt at the excitement he displayed at seeing her again. It was hard not to get infatuated with someone like Harry, and to have even a fraction of that reciprocated made her want to scream until her lungs were sore and she had no voice left.
"Harry!" she shouted back, closing the distance between them with her kit banging into her side from her hurried steps.
Once she drew closer, there were actually three others stood by instead of the two (Y/N) had previously counted. Cuddled in the arms of the woman she now recognized to be Harry's drummer was a baby boy with slippers in the shape of fish on his little feet, his attention placed on the man standing behind her that (Y/N) knew was Mitch, the guitarist she'd familiarized herself with through countless videos.
"I've been waiting for you," Harry smiled, pulling her in for a gentle hug now that she was close enough. He was careful of the makeup kit tucked into her side, his arms a loose band around her shoulders as (Y/N) wrapped hers around his waist.
In her research, she had found so many frantic and yearning tweets from fans saying they wish they could receive a Harry hug, swearing they knew he was the best and warmest hugger. She could adamantly confirm all of their suspicions now.
Though the contact was short, Harry moving to give Vera her own greeting, (Y/N) swore she could still feel the ghost of his hold around her form.
"(Y/N)," Harry started, giving her a smile before gesturing to the woman with the baby cuddled to her chest, "This is Sarah, she's the drummer in m'band."
Now that she had a name for the face, (Y/N) knew exactly who this was. It took everything in her not to make a joke about Harry actually being a part of Sarah's band. Instead, she reached a hand out for Sarah to shake, a bright smile on her face.
"Nice to meet you," she greeted, eyes falling to the baby boy on her chest that had his mom's nose. She remembered her being pregnant at the Grammy's—and what a warrior she was in a leather outfit while heavily pregnant playing the drums.
"You're the makeup artist for the next couple days, right?" Sarah smiled, bouncing her baby boy higher on her chest before reaching out a free hand to shake (Y/N)'s offered one.
"Yeah, that's me. My friend, Vera,"—(Y/N) pointed to her left, where Vera was being the ever polite character that she presented in front of clients—"is also going to be helping me with everything. Its the Wizard of Oz tonight, right?"
Sarah hummed, absently fixing one of the fish-shaped slippers on her son's feet, "Mhm, and I wonder who decided I was going to be the Wicked Witch." A pointed glance was shot in Harry's direction, playful anger laced over her features.
"That wasn't even m'idea, why are y'mad at me!?" Harry whined, dimples in his cheeks at her teasing.
"You're just upset that people come to these shows to see me, not you," Sarah pushed, shaking her head, ponytail bouncing behind her.
"Anyway," Harry sighed, rolling his eyes though his expression only softened when they landed on the baby boy falling asleep in his mother's arms, "That's Mitch, standing behind Sarah and not helping defend his best friend when he knows the truth."
The quiet man with the long dark hair practically hiding behind Sarah, quirked a short smile. Moving his eyes away from the dark hair sprouting from the baby's head, he gave a shrug in Harry's direction. "She's holding my baby, that takes priority."
Before Harry could whine some more, (Y/N) took it upon herself to reach around Sarah and properly introduce herself. "Nice to meet you, Mitch. You're the cowardly lion tonight, right?"
"Yeah," Mitch sighed, his shoulders deflating as he no doubt remembered the full fur suit he was expected to wear on stage tonight. If it were her, (Y/N) was halfway certain she would have dropped out of the band when she found out that detail; stage lights were not kind to layers.
Before much else could be said, a voice shouted out Harry's name coming from one of the tunnels flanking the stage. Once his attention was caught, the man shouting for Harry continued, "Doors open in an hour—everyone needs to clear out!"
Harry shouted back his agreement, a thumbs up tossed in the direction of the tunnel before he moved his attention back to (Y/N). "Are y'ready for me?" he asked, eyes dropping to the makeup kit at her side.
"Not yet," she said, now worrying about the time despite the fact she had more than enough time to get everything done, "I still need to set up and get everything ready." Looking to Vera over her shoulder, she found her giving a quiet nod in agreement. They didn't even know where the dressing rooms were.
"I can show y'where to go," Harry offered, eyes bright with his bottom lip tucked between his teeth.
Her heart stuttered at his proposal, already feeling her mouth go dry having the full of his attention and the beacon of his eyes directed on her. "If you're busy, I don't want t—"
"'M not busy."
Harry's words popped the bubble holding the butterflies in her tummy at bay, their wings now fluttering up towards her heart. From the corner of her eye, she swore she saw Mitch give Harry a look with raised brows and a flickering smile.
"I—Okay," (Y/N) agreed, her voice quiet.
A large smile bloomed over Harry's face, stealing the full of her attention before Mitch's voice piped up in the quiet of the empty arena. "Vera, right?" he called over (Y/N)'s shoulder. She figured he received a nod from her assistant as he continued, "Sarah and I can show you where the band is getting ready, if you want."
"Perfect! Thank you," Vera bubbled, sounding a little too happy to abandon (Y/N).
With their baby boy in tow, Mitch and Sarah tossed (Y/N) a short wave and a cordial It was nice to meet you! before leading Vera towards one of the winding tunnels. Looking to Harry, he met her eyes with his own hopeful green pair, a soft smile curled into his raspberry colored lips.
"C'mon," he murmured to her, beckoning her with a wave of his hand as he started down one of the winding halls in the opposite of where Vera was led.
(Y/N) practically tripped over herself to get in line with him, her kit banging against her side as they walked. Their steps echoed over the concrete flooring, her boots substantially louder than the soft padding of Harry's Vans.
"How was the flight?" he asked, his voice breaking up the sound go their feet and the beating of (Y/N)'s erratic heart in her chest.
As simple as the question was, one she would typically assume was a half-assed attempt at small talk by one of her clients, it took one look at his face to know he truly wanted to know her answer. After being away from him for so long, the impact of his eye contact was like new.
Harry listened intently to each of her answers as they walked, actually seeming to care about the bland, wilted salad she splurged on during the flight and the book she had brought along that she was still iffy on whether she liked it or not. If not for the fact he had to ensure they didn't walk into any walls or take a wrong turn, she knew he would have stitched his gaze to her.
"After you," he mumbled, opening the door to his dressing room for her.
A shy smile took (Y/N)'s features as she stepped over the threshold. The set up of the room was simple: a large vanity spanned one wall, soft focus lighting lining the top of the mirror, with a single couch lining the back wall facing the mirror. A plain white garment bag hung from a single rack off to the side, an index card taped to the front spelling out in bold, black letters HARRYWEEN NIGHT 1. If not for the small personal touches dotting the room, (Y/N) would have assumed there wasn't a show to be had in only a few hours.
A warm scented candle was placed in the middle of the vanity space, a peach colored lighter set up beside it in wait. The loose knit of a chunky blanket hung over the back of the couch, bright colors making up the patches of yarn knotted together. The things most notably Harry came in the form of a bottle of cologne on the vanity, a stack of books, two tall on the nondescript side table by the couch with a journal tucked under it all. (Y/N) even spotted a clear plastic case with a tube of toothpaste and a pink toothbrush tucked away.
"Do you mind if I...?"
The sound of Harry's question stole her attention. Whipping her head in his direction, (Y/N) found him with his raised brows, the door shut behind him as he reached for the peach tinted lighter beside the candle.
"No, no, go for it," she bubbled off once she realized what he was asking.
A soft smile touched the corners of his mouth as he grabbed for the black votive that housed the candle described as Autumn Mist. "Y'can set up wherever y'want, don't have to wait for me," Harry said, flicking his eyes from her as the lighter in his hand sparked up.
"Right," she breathed through a smile as if just remembering what exactly she was here to do.
She was aware of Harry settling the candle in his home at the back center of the tabletop before he sat down in the single chair propped in front of the mirrors. Willing her eyes to keep to her hands instead of drifting to the mirror where she knew she would find Harry was one of the hardest things (Y/N) thinks she'd ever done. The heat of his eyes on her hands, his gaze tracing over her profile only made it that much more tricky.
"Can I help with anything?" Harry asked, breaking through the quiet of the room.
The brush cup in (Y/N)'s hand rattled as she jumped, the click of her nails pinging against the iridescent plastic. "Oh, um," she stuttered, eyes trailing over the spread of her kit, "You could sort these brushes if you want? The small ones to the empty side of the cup with the bigger ones being left for later."
He practically bounced in his seat at the opportunity to help, reaching for the brush cup in her hand. His eyes dropped to her hands as she passed the two halves off, gaze brightening even further at what he saw.
"Our nails match!" he bubbled, setting down the empty half of his project to show her the gleaming red paint on his fingernails.
The nerves that had tainted (Y/N) the second they were set to be alone began to dissipate at the innocent excitement on Harry's face. Fanning out her own fingers she placed them by Harry's, the matching candy apple color sparkling under the vanity lights. "They do, yeah," she smiled, "What color did you use?"
Harry's smile turned secretive as he gave a final wiggle of his fingers before returning to his task, "'M not allowed to say; 's not out yet."
"Oh?"
(Y/N) didn't want to come off as the wild fan she knew she turned into during those months of research before today, but if it had anything to do with the Pleasing brand she had read rumors about she might scream a little.
"'S for something 'm announcing in a few weeks," he explained further, his red painted nails plucking eyeshadow brushes from the bundle in the cup, "I've already got in trouble for telling a few people because I got too excited, so 'm really not allowed to say anything. Sorry."
"Don't be sorry," (Y/N) assured, buzzing at the fact she knew something would be happening in a month, even if she didn't have any details, "Whatever it is, I'm sure it'll be really good."
"Thank you," he beamed, looking up at her from the growing pile of brushes in his hands, "When y'see what it is, will y'tell me what y'think?"
Essentially, he was asking to hear from her again weeks after their professional relationship was set to come to an end. Luckily, (Y/N) was busy rifling through the blush compacts she brought along, knowing that if she were busy doing the job she pawned off on Harry, it would have been too obvious how heavy her hands were shaking.
"Of course."
They fell into a quiet rhythm, Harry sorting through the brushes with a determined pout on his lips. (Y/N) did her best to bite back the smile tugging at the corners of her mouth.
He was so cute. And to think she was so taken with him in photos alone.
"So," she started, having the products she planned on using for tonight placed in perfect order, "We have a little bit of time before we really have to start if you wanted to wait? Anything else you wanted to do before I stick lashes on your eyes, you can do now."
"You brought the lashes?!" Harry practically bounced in his seat, eyes bright and wide as he looked up at her, "I didn't think Lambert told you!"
An aerated laugh fell from her lips, leaning against the counter with her hip popped into the surface. "I only brought some half lashes, nothing big, but I have a few options for you to pick from."
"Can we put them on now? I want to see what I look like with them on."
Nothing was more endearing than the enthusiasm he was sharing over the application. "We can if you want," she repeated, "But I don't want to put it on too early if you have other things to do. You still have a while 'til the show starts, right?"
"Yeah, but I want to take pictures and everything, too. I jus' wanna make sure 'm all pretty so we have enough time for that, too."
He wanted to be pretty.
"Alright," she smiled, "We can do that."
Harry's grin only grew at her agreement, his hands falling to his lap. "Thank you."
(Y/N) bit back her smile as she rifled through her prep products, a crystalline moisturizer being her first pick. "The lashes will probably be the last thing we put on, so, if you want to look through the ones I brought and pick your favorite, you can do that while I do the rest," (Y/N) offered, nodding her head towards the lash case she brought along as she scooped out dollop of the face cream.
An Oh! sounded from Harry before he reached for the pink plastic case, trying his hardest to keep his face angled upwards for (Y/N). A platinum dusting of what the brand called 'stardust' was laced through the moisturizer, painting his skin in a dewy glow she hoped would shine on the high points of his face during the show. Her fingertips gently massages the product into his skin, gently tracing his features with the pads of her fingers. He ooh'd and aw'd in gentle tones as he looked over the small strips (Y/N) brought along, his natural lashes brushing her hands as he flicked his gaze over the products.
"Did you see the line outside?" (Y/N) asked, settling into artist mode and finding the realms of conversation to fill the silence, "I don't think I've seen so many feather boas in one spot before."
His features lit up at the mention of his adoring fans. "Yeah? I haven't had a chance to peek out, yet. What's it look like out there?"
"Well," she started with a breathy laugh, reaching for a gentle lip mask to condition his pout before the lipstick, "There's actually several versions of you running around outside, and almost everyone has either some form of those bunnies on them or a feather boa. I'd hate to be apart of the crew that has to clean all that up."
"They're dressed up like me?" he questioned with a smile to his tone as (Y/N) brushed the mask over his lips.
"Mhm," she hummed, concentrating on his skin, "You at the Grammy's, the cover of your album, and from pretty much every music video you've done."
"Wow," Harry breathed, his awe quiet in the space between them.
"Right?" (Y/N) prompted, her own smile creeping on her face as she watched the tip of his nose and points of his cheekbones turn red with blush, "Other than that, I saw lots of hippies and lots of people dressed up with all the flower power. And a couple of zombies"
With his skin completely prepped and glowing in wait for the cosmetics stacked behind her, (Y/N) drew away to get a look at the canvas she was working with for the next couple of days. Glancing over his features, she only had one thought: she was one lucky artist to have a muse like him.
"You know," Harry started, his hands with the lash case clutched between his fingers falling to his lap, "I was worried no one was going to dress up. For the first time, I'd be the only one in costume when usually its the other way around."
(Y/N) shook her head, reaching for the light brow gel she wanted to start with while the skin prep sunk into his pores. "I feel like you should know by now, they would never do that to you—your fans. Plus, it'd be hard not to show up in costume to something called a 'Fancy Dress Party."
Harry's gaze flittered over her form as (Y/N) took a spoolie to his brows, brushing through the hairs and righting the fibers into a soft arch over his eyes. "You didn't dress up."
His tone was anything but accusing—if anything, it was curious—but (Y/N) couldn't help but feel like she'd been caught in the act. She shrugged, keeping her eyes on the gentle slope of his brows. "I wanted to dress up, but I was worried I would look a little silly walking in here dressed like a fairy when I'm supposed to be working."
"Y'brought a fairy costume?"
"It's currently stuffed at the bottom of my suitcase, but yes," (Y/N) smiled, taking the applicator brushed in the brunette tinted gel to his brows.
"Y'should've worn it. Could've been our second Glinda for the night."
The idea that he would have brought her into their little group for the night made (Y/N)'s cheeks warm along with the smile stretched across them. "Yeah?"
"Mhm," he hummed, gazing up at her from where she stood above him, "Would've fit right in."
"Maybe, I'll wear it tomorrow then," (Y/N) smiled, making one more swipe of the tinted gel though his brows before backing off.
The slope of his brows were now darkened and tamed, framing his smiling face as he looked up at her. As they discussed, she didn't have much to apply in terms of face makeup. With the strain of the show and the fact that Harry himself didn't want to have to worry about much, there wasn't a lot to apply outside of the blush and light powder to be dusted over his skin.
"What's next?" Harry asked as she plucked through the sorted brushes for one in particular.
With the large puff of a brush in one hand and a sheer face powder in the other, (Y/N) tipped the compact to show her client. "Just a little bit of face powder before I do your blush and everything. It helps everything go on smoothly."
Harry hummed at the information, most likely used to this step in the routine. His eyes fluttered closed as (Y/N) dragged the brush lightly over his skin, a satin sheen blending over the glow she already applied to his skin. The bristles tickled his nose as she dusted the tip, Harry scrunching up the feature as he huffed out a laugh.
"Sorry," she whispered, giving one last stroke of product over the center of his face before pulling away.
"'S okay," he placated her, blinking his eyes open as he heard the clink of the discarded brush handle, "I jus' never get used to that feeling."
(Y/N) assured him she would do her best to be careful from now on as she reached for a shimmering highlight powder. With a tapered brush in hand, she gently nudged his chin to the side, giving her an angled look at his cheekbone.
"Is this the blush?" Harry asked, his voice a bit muffled as he did his best to keep from moving his face.
"Not yet," she mumbled, concentrated on the subtle highlighting she wanted on the high points of his face, "Just doing a tiny bit of highlighting so there's dimension when we do the blush."
"Oh," he sounded, taking the moment to get a look at how his makeup was coming along when (Y/N) nudged his chin in the other direction, "Looks nice. I like it."
Her lips curled at the praise, a quiet thank you whispered between them as she tapped some of the glimmering gel around the C-shape of his eye. The vanity lights caught the highlight perfectly, the product melting into the warmth of his skin and the prep she had massaged into his pores beforehand.
"Gotta get your nose really quick," she warned, beckoning him to face her before tapping her ring finger into the gel.
She added the shine to the very tip of his nose, matching what was already applied to his cheekbones and the round of his chin. His skin was warm under her finger, the tip grazing over the ball of his nose before trailing along the straight angle of the bridge. Though (Y/N)'s eye was carefully concentrated on the blend of the product into his skin, from the peripheral of her gaze, she noticed the way Harry's own eyes were struggling to follow her finger. The farther up she went on his nose, the more his eyes crossed.
"What are you doing?" (Y/N) laughed out, backing up some.
A boyish smile took Harry's features, his lips curling to showcase dimples in his cheeks with just the faintest glimpse at white teeth. "I was jus' trying to watch."
"You're going to give yourself a headache if you keep trying to watch me like that," (Y/N) gently scolded, though her chastising lost all grit with the smile on her lips.
Harry only shrugged at her words, keeping his face tilted upwards as if she were the sun, awaiting whatever what next in her line up. (Y/N) sighed, the sound coming out more contented than bothered, as she reached for a detailing brush from her cup.
"Close your eyes," she directed, poking the bristles into the creamy product. Harry did just that, his features going soft as his eyes fluttered closed. She delicately painted the shimmering gel in the corners of his eyes, the sparkles catching the light. When he opened his eyes, it would give the effect of a more opened and awake eye shape, giving him the large, innocent set that Judy Garland had in the original Wizard of Oz.
While she was at it, she highlighted the bone under his brow, lifting his eyes and adding to the subtle dimension she was sculpting.
"There," she whispered when she finished, setting the highlight compact to the side with that brush joining the dirty pile.
Once he had the clearance, Harry eagerly looked in the mirror. "That's pretty," he smiled, bringing his finger up to gently point at the inner corner of his eye, "I like that bit a lot. Makes m'eyes look big."
"Good, that's what I was going for." (Y/N) felt proud of herself; no matter how minimal this makeup was, she was happy she was pulling it off to his liking. "Now its time for the blush," she said, reaching for the bright red blush compact he had specifically chosen the last time she was in New York, "You still like this color right?"
Harry perked up at the sound of the blush, his posture straightening as he peeked at the pressed powder waiting for him. "This is the same red we found?"
"Mhm," (Y/N) hummed, absently grabbing for the brush she planned on stamping the color on with before she would defuse the plots, "But I brought a couple more in case you weren't sure, anymore."
"No, no," Harry shook his head, gleaming bright eyes gazing up at her with excitement in his irises, "I like this one still. It matches m'dress."
With the brush in hand, (Y/N) tapped the bristles in the bright red powder, careful to start with a light dusting before working her way up. "Did you pick the lashes you wanted?" (Y/N) asked, distracting him from trying to watch her do this part of his makeup as well. She was scared to see how he would try to maneuver his eyes to see his cheeks.
"I liked the ones on the top the best, the longer ones," he murmured, keeping from moving his mouth too much as she stippled the blush over his cheekbones.
"Okay," she mumbled, the words coming out a little lazy as she was concentrated on the distribution of the bright color, "Did you want help putting on the mascara or did you want to do that part?"
A beat passed as (Y/N) switched sides, copying the same technique she'd used on the opposite cheek. "I think I want y'to help me. 'M scared I'll poke m'eye out if I try."
"I can do that for you," she smiled, stepping back to check the symmetry of the placement. The bright blush was placed perfectly over his cheekbones, an oval shape stretching over his cheek that emulated the shape she gave his highlight. Exactly like she pictured it.
Taking a much larger brush, she dipped into the excess powder she tapped out on the back of her hand before blending out the splotches placed on his cheek. Swirling her brush, the shade lightened as she worked, some of the bristles catching on the stray hairs of his beard line. The shade lightened into soft pinks around the edges as she blended out the blush, the shape matching that of a face chart she had pored over for weeks.
"I love that," (Y/N) said, leaning back once she finished the blending of the blush, "That looks perfect, I think."
"Yeah?" Harry bubbled, flicking his gaze from hers only to look at himself in the mirror as he angled his head in different directions. "It is perfect," he awed, "'S jus' like we planned."
Pride puffed her chest as he seemed to love it all as much as she did. All that was left was the finishing touches of the lashes.
(Y/N) told him as much, prepping him for the wand that was going to up close and personal in a moment. Rooting through her supplies she found the disposable mascara wands she brought along, and the tube of sensitive mascara she opted to use on him. He wasn't exactly used to products being so close to his eyes—there'd only been one photoshoot before this where he was in something more extensive than some face powder, he'd told her— so she needed to go easy on him. The lashes tucked away in the case would make up for the length she was forfeiting with this gentle formula.
"Okay," she said, bringing the saturated wand to his eye, "I just want you to blink into the spoolie. If I'm too close to your eye or if something hurts, let me know."
Harry murmured an okay, his knees knocking into her's as he adjusted his position. He cautiously did as she instructed, carefully blinking his lashes into the wand dipped in product, though she could tell he was worried something was going to go awry even with her help.
"Careful," she whispered when he flinched as she swiped at the baby lashes in the inner corner, "I don't want to poke you."
He didn't say anything in response, instead (Y/N) felt his hand reach out and grab at her thigh as if to steady himself. His hands were free of the rings she knew he favored, feeling nothing but the reach of his long fingers to wrap around the full of her leg and warm her skin with his palm. It was her turn to feel a bit shaky now at the gentle contact. Taking in a deep breath, she made a point to concentrate on her hand now that there was something very distracting tugging at the back of her mind.
Even when she took a step back, rewetting her applicator with a new coat of mascara for the other eye, Harry never lessened his hold on her. If anything, it tightened some when she lent in again, repeating her earlier instructions, as if she wasn't struggling to screw her head on straight under his touch.
"Okay," she peeped when she finished, reluctantly stepping back to discard of the used spoolie, "all done."
An easy smile stretched over Harry's face, as if he wasn't buzzing under his skin like (Y/N) was. "Not as bad as I thought it would be," he concluded, bringing his hand up to rub his fingers along the line of his jaw, "Only got scared once."
"Yeah," (Y/N) agreed, making a point to continue rifling around for her lash glue as if it wasn't floating on top, "You did really good, Harry."
She could practically feel his smile on her back while she applied short strips of glue to his chosen lashes. He was definitely one for praise, that was for sure.
"While we let the glue get tacky on your lashes, wanna do your lipstick?" (Y/N) suggested reaching for the tray of lip colors she'd brought.
The eager nod of Harry's head brought his curls swooping down his forehead and gazing the tip of his nose. "What colors did y'bring?"
(Y/N) presented the tray to him, several tubes in sparkling packaging calling out to him to peek through. "I was thinking something soft like a rose color because your cheeks are so bright, but its up to you."
He hummed at her input, rooting through the tubes and peeking at the names stamped on the bottom. Finally he pulled the cap off of one in matte pink packaging, from a drug store brand she adored. Twisting it up, the bullet was a soft pink that went on sheer and glossy, the shade one of the ones in the top three of her choices.
"This one good? I think a red would be too much, even if I think they're pretty." Harry looked up at her with the tube in his hand, seeking approval with the raise of his brows.
"That's what I would have picked," (Y/N) smiled, already taking the lipstick from his hand before plucking around for a lip brush, "I don't know why I'm here, you've got all the great ideas it looks like."
Harry laughed as she dipped the brush in the slope of the lipstick, "I could never do all of this, especially not the eyelashes. I would've hated to see what I would look like if y'weren't here, (Y/N). Even if y'aren't dressed up like one, you're still like m'fairy tonight."
Something in her heart shook at the sound of being called his anything.
This was a client, this was a client, this was a client.
The words rang through her head like a mantra as she swooped the lipstick over the soft pout of his lips. Maybe he was nothing more than a natural flirt—she'd read enough stories about him to know how easy it was for others to become so entranced by him—, but, god, was he getting to her. She didn't know what she was going to do once these two nights were over.
After she requested him to roll his lips together, the sheer rose color smoothing over his mouth, she reached for the short lashes waited behind them.
"Ready?" she asked, one of the lashes carefully pinched between a set of tweezers.
"Should I close m'eyes?" he asked, looking entirely too gorgeous with his face made up.
"Not yet, I want to place them first, then I'll let you know," (Y/N) explained, settling in the same position as when he had grabbed for her leg.
With his eyes bright and open, (Y/N) struggled to keep from falling into the lillypad green. The placement of the lashes was going to make or break this entire look, and she didn't want to let Harry down since he was so excited about this part in specific. His eyes watched each of her movements as she lined the strip along his lash line, the fibers blending in with his natural lashes. It took only minor adjustments to pinch his lashes together and ensure the glue was going to hold before she moved onto the other eye.
"All done," (Y/N) whispered once she finished adjusting the set of lashes now gracing his eyelids. Luckily for him and for his ability of sight, he hadn't grabbed for her again; if he had (Y/N) worried she might have poked him right in the eye with her tweezers.
"How do I look? Am I Judy Garland yet?" Harry teased, sitting up straight in the chair though he kept his gaze trained on her.
"I'd say close to, yeah," she smiled, the curl crooked as she laced her fingers together behind her back in anticipation of his reaction, "Take a look."
Whipping his head towards the mirror, Harry took in the full of his glamorized appearance. The subtle highlight caught the light perfectly, opening his eyes with the gentle flare of the lashes wisping out from the corner. He twisted his head in different angles, and wiggled his nose in hopes of catching the small details of the makeup they had planned together. The lashes seemed to be his favorite part with the way he couldn't stop blinking and fluttering his eyes, the tickling against his brow bone eliciting a breathy laugh.
"You're so good at this, you know?" Harry complimented, taking his gaze from from his reflection, "I knew y'were good from what I saw on your Instagram and everything, but it's so cool to see y'actually do it. Thank y'for coming out to help me, it really means a lot. I definitely couldn't have done this without you."
Biting back the grin that tugged at her lips, (Y/N) dropped her gaze to the collection of brushes that would need to be cleaned before being reintroduced to her kit. "I'm sure you would have managed just fine, but I'm happy you like how it turned out. Thank you."
"I don't think I would have, (Y/N)," he pressed, sinking into his chair as if to take her all in as he spoke, "I know for sure I would have poked m'eye out with those tweezers if I was in charge. If I was left by myself, I don't think there would have been a show tonight unless everyone came with me to the emergency room and watched me sing as every eyelash was pulled out of m'eye."
Her laugh filled the air in large strokes at his words. "Now you're just being dramatic," she said, shaking her head, "Is anyone coming to do your hair or are you going to be in the ER with a hairbrush attached to your scalp?"
Dimples appeared in his cheeks at her teasing though he tried to feign offense, "I've recently been granted hairbrushing privileges, you know—I don't have to have supervision anymore, so your jokes can't hurt me," he countered, a snooty raise to his brow as if he was only proving how high and mighty he was, "But, someone is supposed to come and help me put the bow in m'hair before we take photos."
(Y/N) continued cleaning up her kit though she knew she was being slower than usual, "I'd better go see if Vera needs any help then, so everyone's ready on time."
"Oh, you're not going to stay with me?"
His simple question was enough to make (Y/N)'s hands stutter as she plucked the lip brush from its discarded position on the side of the vanity.
"I can come back if you want, but I left a lot of work to Vera. I don't want to leave her high and dry and make your show run late because we didn't get everyone in makeup on time."
"You'll come back though to see my outfit and everything?"
She swallowed around the sudden dryness in her throat.
"Of course, I will."
From the corner of her eye, (Y/N) spotted a similarly red polished hand reach out to help her in packing away her things, plucking brushes up while she organized her compacts and products. Harry gently bumped his hip against hers, smiling down at her with his grin tinted a rosy pink.
"Will y'stay for the show, then, too?" he asked, voice quiet between the two of them. The length of his lashes reached as far as the stray hairs dotting his brow bone, the shimmer in the corner of his eyes almost as bright as the light in his irises.
"Am I allowed to? I feel like you're not supposed to be giving out backstage passes and tickets to everyone you meet." (Y/N) smiled although she knew she was deflecting. He was asking her once against to extend her time with him, and it was making her feel a little crazy.
Her mantra from earlier struck through her skull—he's a client.
"You're not jus' anyone," he countered, his smile going lopsided as he gazed at her, "I want y'to be there, see the show and everything." She watched as he dropped his eyes to his hands as he reached for the brush cup he had started the night with. "But if y'have other plans or anything, 's alright. I jus' wanted y'to know you're more than welcome to stay—that I would really like it if y'did."
He's a client, he's a client, he's a client—Harry Styles is a client.
"I think I could clear my schedule."
—————
There was something different about this show compared to the last one (Y/N) had the privilege of attending.
If the anticipation had just about been tangible in the air the last time she was in this room, this time around it bordered on electric. She and Vera were tucked away in a careful corner of the venue, close enough to catch the details of the stage but far enough away that they weren't encroaching on any of the fans' space who had waited outside all day for this. Orville Peck (who she'd just barely met when he was running around backstage before his set) had finished just barely a half hour beforehand, giving the crowd more than enough time to get riled up at the fact Harry was next.
It was when the lights went down that the mood in the room shifted. For a split second, it was as if the entire arena took in a collective gasp before screams rang out, visible tears springing into the eyes of some of those around them at what was happening in mere seconds.
Just like the first time, the band filtered though first, taking their places at their respective instruments in full costume just before the notes of Harold Arlen's We're Off to See the Wizard blared through the arena. Then, it was Harry's turn.
(Y/N) was granted a preview of the look when she had made her way back to his dressing room after helping with the band. The time in-between leaving him and helping Vera had been utilized to get him in full costume with bright red knitted tights covering his legs and the blue gingham dress draped over his form. The sparkling boots he had excitedly showed her pictures of earlier that month were one of his favorite parts he said, the illusion of the heel though it was nothing more than one of his signature boots had made him want to prance around he told her.
But, under the lights it was like she was looking at him for the first time.
The stretch she had imagined the costume to go through seemed amplified under the lights, his shoulders broad and squared under the delicate fabric. The dots of the embroidered strawberries glimmered under the stage lights, matching the bow on the top of his head that secured the curling sprout of his hair upwards. He skipped along the stage confidently, knowing that not only this arena was watching him so intently, but in the coming days there would no doubt be articles and photographs detailing every moment of his presence on the stage tonight—showing the world what he did. The only thing that might have outshined the smile on his face and the glimmer of his highlight was the pair ruby slippers on his feet.
All the while, he was holding the picnic basket with his Toto dog cradled inside.
The crowd of adoring fans screamed and cheered at a decibel that (Y/N) hadn't known existed until that moment. The screams lasted longer than she knew anyone could push their lungs to do, Harry's grin never lessening as he traded his picnic basket for his guitar. Charles Bukowski's poem rang through as he swaggered up to the mic jus before the opening notes of Golden shook through the venue. If at all possible, the cheers only seemed to grow louder. She'd heard rumors and seen videos of The Garden's floor physically shaking when he played this venue, even getting a taste of that when she was here last. These last two minutes alone proved she was going to get a much bigger picture of that tonight.
This was definitely going to be the kind of night that got the floor shaking, she was sure of it.
—————
It was one a.m. when (Y/N) finally snuggled under the white down blankets in her hotel room. Vera had long passed out, barely taking the time to wipe her makeup off and remove her lashes before faceplanting on her bed.
The night's show was still rattling through her bones as she sunk into the mattress, the screaming of the guitar in Kiwi pumping through her veins. When they left the venue, she and Vera had laughed at how unsteady the stable ground felt after becoming used to the shaking of the floor at Madison Square Garden.
And she got to do it all over again tomorrow.
Just as she was drifting off, her work phone pinged from where it was charging on the night stand.
If not for the contact going to her professional number, she would have ignored the notification, but it was never a good thing when a client reached out to her in the middle of the night.
Through bleary eyes, she swiped open the message only for her eyes to widen and heart to flutter.
Harry Styles
Thank you so much for coming tonight and staying for the show!!! I can't wait to see you tomorrow:)
Happy Halloween love!
She couldn't wait to see him tomorrow either.
—————
The trek down the hallways at Madison Square Garden were now familiar as (Y/N) traced her way to Harry's dressing room.
Her heels clicked against the floor as she took the sharp left she remembered almost missing every time, even when she was escorted to the room, aware of the trails of glitter all over the concrete. She had no doubt there was a fresh trail being left behind her.
The sight of the bright white piece of paper stuck to the door with Harry's name boldly printed across the page brought a smile to her face. Though she was well aware that this was the last night she had any excuse to see him again, she vowed to do her best to not think that far ahead. She was going to have fun with him tonight, and take her time while she had it with him.
Giving a light knock on the door, she shuffled in her costume. She knew she was a bit early, her and Vera being the only ones dressed up until the venue filled and Harry and the band were put in their own costumes, but she hoped he wouldn't think she was silly coming so put together.
"(Y/N)!" she heard Harry cheer as he opened the door, his grin growing as wide as his eyes when he caught sight of her.
"Hi, H," she smiled, absently tugging at the shoulder strap of her kit, "How are you?"
He beckoned her inside with his eyes stitched to her form, his smile keeping stuck to his lips. "'M good, love, 'm really good,"
Before she had much of a chance to set up her kit in the now familiar room, Harry opened his arms wide to her. A sliver of his hips were revealed from the movement of his arms, showing the black laurel tattoos that would soon be covered by the costume hanging in the white garment bag. His body looked soft under the white t-shirt though she knew (from music videos she only felt a little bad about viewing more than a handful of times) that he was solid.
(Y/N) didn't hesitate before taking him up on his invitation for a hug. She walked into his arms with a case of bashfulness following after her, her arms going around his middle while he wrapped his own across her shoulders. She settled with her cheek lightly against his chest, very aware of the makeup on her face.
If this were with anyone else—anyone other than Harry—this would have felt forced and a little rushed considering this was the third time they were meeting up. But, maybe it was the text from the night before or the way he seemed to look at her with a certain degree of tenderness in his gaze, but (Y/N) felt comfortable in his hold.
"How are you?" he asked her, audible smile in his voice before he drew away. His hands lingered over her form as he moved them to settle on her arms, his eyes trailing down her body with his eyes taking in the details of her costume, "Y'look wonderful—like Tinkerbell, but all pretty in red like Cupid."
A bright smile took place on her features as she offered a shy shrug. "It just gave me an excuse to finally wear these boots," she told him, kicking out her foot between them that was clad in a bright red, patent leather boot that matched that of her fairy costume.
(Y/N) was very aware of Harry's gaze that marched down her form, taking in the little, red satin dress draped over her form. Gold glitter rained down over the fabric, concentrated the most in the choppy cut of the hem that emulated that of Tinkerbell. Her hair was pulled back with a shimmering tie covered in butterflies, allowing the dewy makeup she applied to her face to be seen. Glimpses of gold highlighted her skin, and down her neck while traces of red blush and diffused red shadow were applied to her face. All the while, a pair of glimmering gold fairy wings were pinned to her back.
By the time his gaze finally returned to hers, (Y/N) was almost sure that there was no more air in her lungs. The smile he gave her was lopsided as he spoke, "Well, I like it a lot. Gonna give me a run for my money, that's for sure."
She wasn't going to survive him if he kept this up.
"Thank you, Harry," she murmured, feeling her cheeks heat.
Something of a familiarity settled over them as Harry guided her to the vanity, offering to help her unpack her things as he asked her how she liked the show the night before. (Y/N) lagged a bit as she tried to catch up with him, feeling the after effects of his attention as she tried to screw her head on straight under the feel of his gaze. Through her praising of the show the night before—a very welcome distraction as she got to focus on something else—she could feel his eyes on her all the while. If he wasn't careful, she was going to have shaking hands while trying to do his makeup and that wasn't going to be helpful for anyone.
"Ready for me?" he asked as he sunk into the chair, the spread of (Y/N)'s products out on the vanity.
(Y/N) gave a nod of her head, leaning against the counter in an act of nonchalance she wasn't actually feeling. "But," she countered, "we don't have a whole lot to do for tonight's look if you wanted to give it some time. Unless, you were taking pictures again soon, anyway."
Harry seemed to contemplate her words, puckering his lips to the side as his eyes flicked to the products splayed along the counter. After a moment, he looked up at her with a gentle question in his eyes, "Do you have anything y'needed to do?"
"Other than helping you, no," she smiled, tapping her red polished nails on the vanity as if to punctuate her words.
A smile that tugged on the shy side took his features. "Do y'want to sit with me for a little then? Jus' hang out for a while before we have to get to work?"
Though (Y/N) had become at least somewhat accustomed to the fact that this was Harry Styles she was working with, the blinding edge of the novelty having worn off some (not all the way, this was still a very huge deal to her), in that moment she became heart-stoppingly aware of who had just asked her to hang out.
In the back of her mind, the mantra she had basically tattooed on the inside of her skull tried to poke through and erase the sound of Harry's voice.
This is a client, this is—
But, as she gazed at him, the raspberry color of his lips curled into a smile and the green eyes she had gotten an unobstructed view into the night before looking right at her, she couldn't find that mantra reason enough to say no. No matter if her heart was about to grow wings that matched the mesh ones on her back, she was going to make the most of this night with him.
(Y/N) answered in the form of taking the seat beside him, folding her hands in her lap though her attention never strayed from him. "How are you liking that book you started?"
The smile that took over his face was worth every bit of reality that would follow her home on the plane after this night was over.
—————
"Okay, you need to hold still, and let me finish this, H."
(Y/N) knew her stern facade was nothing but a crumbling tower with the strength of her words. Since sitting down and starting his makeup, Harry had been nothing but a pest, teasing and poking at her with an endearing smile on his face that made it a little too hard to be mad at him. She held a pair of tweezers in her hand, the final droplet shaped pearl pinched between the arms as she raised a less than intimidating brow at him. If he wanted the placement of this embellishment to to match the others, he was going to need to stop poking at her and quit his laughing.
"Okay, okay," Harry relented in a breathless tone, even going so far as to close his eyes to not be tempted to run astray again.
She was surprised at his quick compliance, noting the way that every time she had told him to stop crossing his eyes to watch her highlight his nose or to quit playing an all too flirty game of footsie with her as she tried to perfect the diamond-shaped pink blush over his face, that he couldn't seem to help himself and kept playing with her. Even as she applied the first three, he hadn't been this easy to listen; he had been trying his luck the whole time as if he wanted to see how close she could flinch at his eye before there was an unfortunate accident. What she wasn't surprised about, was the way he almost immediately crumbled as soon as she got close to him with the pearl, his mouth breaking out into a grin with his shoulders bouncing in quiet laugher.
"Harry," she scolded, her call of his name sounding a little too sweet through her smile.
"Sorry, 'm sorry," he laughed, blinking his eyes open to look up at her, "I promise I tried."
From the quirk at the side of his lips and the amusement in his eyes, (Y/N) doubted he tried all that hard.
(Y/N) made a show of heaving out a sigh as she grabbed for another dab of glue to dot on the apple of his cheek, the previous bit having dried after he took too much of their time pestering her. "Just hold still for five seconds, then you can go back to being annoying, I promise," (Y/N) mumbled as she dotted the paste on his skin.
"Hey," he whined, dragging out the syllables.
"Shhh," (Y/N) hushed him again, her smile only growing when she saw his dimples trying to peek out behind the offended facade he was putting on, "Let me do this."
Before he could say much else, most likely another distractingly teasing comment that was going to make her heart flutter in her chest and her blood sing in her veins, she laid an anchoring hand on his cheek. She was careful of the products they had already applied to his skin, specifically the dewy highlight on his cheeks and the diffused blush spanning up as far as the peaks of his brow bone, as she cupped his jaw in her palm. The intention was to help him keep still, but with his warm skin under her hand, (Y/N) knew this was going to be a much bigger distraction than his prodding if she wasn't careful.
Harry settled almost immediately at her touch, like he wasn't exactly expecting the extra warmth of her hand on his face. His shoulders seemed to fall into a gentle, relaxed slope though his mouth kept that darling curl to it.
Not allowing herself to focus too much on what had suddenly appeared between them, a palpable tension she wasn't in the right frame of mind to unpack at the current moment, she took advantage of his stillness and finally pressed the pearl into his cheek. Using the tip of her finger from her free hand, she adjusted the placement and righted the point of the droplet, her nail grazing against his skin.
She would always tell herself that she diverted her gaze from the point of that pearl to double check that it was matching up with the others on his face, specifically the one situated above his eye, but (Y/N) knew what she was doing when she immediately matched his own gaze. Harry was found intently watching her, the green of his eyes seemingly brighter now that she was giving him the same attention back (or it was the juxtaposition against the baby pink blush, but (Y/N) was going to take each of those romantic thoughts as she could).
For a moment, the makeup application she had been worrying about for months was forgotten. This was a stilled moment she couldn't have planned or worried for.
"Hi," he breathed, his small smile felt under her palm as the corners of his lips curled.
Maybe it was the glitter she had distributed underneath her eyes that vignetted her vision, but (Y/N) swore in that moment, stars had gravitated towards him and made him the center of the universe for one split second.
"Hi."
A heavy knock on the door almost made (Y/N) jump out of her skin where she stood. Her hand on his cheek fell as if it were doing something scandalous as the girl she recognized to be Mr. Lambert's assistant, Claudia came through the door only a moment later. Her bright smile gave nothing away as her gaze flitted over the two of them, (Y/N) probably a little too close now that all of the embellishments were stuck to his skin.
"Hi! I just finished lacing your shoes, so I thought I'd bring them by before you get dressed," Claudia explained, sweeping through the room towards the floating rack with the single garment bag hung up, "Sorry it took me so long, Lambert suddenly decided today was the best day to organize all of the suspenders we brought."
When Harry tried to speak, at first only a croak came out. Clearing his throat, he hesitantly took his eyes from (Y/N)'s form and looked to Claudia. "'S alright, thank y'for doing that."
"Sure!" she smiled, moving towards the door before stopping at the threshold, "How much longer do you think you'll be?"
Harry didn't hesitate to direct his attention back to (Y/N), his bottom lip coming to rest between his teeth. "Um," she stuttered, words not making a lot of sense in her head at the moment, "We just need to do his lips and then he should be ready."
"Perfect!" Claudia beamed, "Everybody else is getting dressed and ready, so whenever you're set we can take a few photos before you go on!"
"Okay, we'll be out soon then. Thank you, Clauds." The nickname was punctuated with a dimple sweet smile from Harry just before Claudia disappeared out of the dressing room.
Now alone, (Y/N) let out a breath she hadn't realized she was holding.
Why she felt so guilty, like she had been caught red-handed, she didn't know. Nothing had even happened, she argued with herself as she turned to rummage through the tubes of lipstick she lugged along for tonight's show, all she had done was adjust his makeup and he said hi to her. That was it.
Nothing scandalous, nothing unprofessional, nothing that she wouldn't have done with any other client.
Right?
"You're staying for the show again, right?" Harry spoke from behind her.
"Yeah, if that was alright," she answered, distracting her restless fingers with the help of the lip brush was she dipping into the pink lipstick pinched between her fingers.
"Of course 's alright," Harry countered as (Y/N) turned to face him, brush loaded with the pink lipstain, "I want y'there."
Tentatively leaning into his space again, (Y/N) was grateful for the fact he wouldn't be able to feel the heat flooding behind her cheeks. "I'll definitely be saying then, H," she murmured, starting to  work on the flushed pink hue that he wanted painted over his lips.
All the while, she felt a pair of bright green eyes framed by pearls watching her.
—————
"(Y/N)!"
In the middle of Kiwi being blasted through the venue, the floor shaking beneath her feet, the sound of Vera's voice with her hand on her shoulder pulled (Y/N) from the Harry-centric dimension she had been transported to for the last hour and a half.
Whipping her head in the direction of her friend—who was happily dressed up as a sexy witch—(Y/N) found Vera being prompted by Harry's manager, Jeff, to get her attention. She'd only met Jeff for a few minutes here and there, particularly when photos were being taken and he took peeks at the shoot before being whisked off elsewhere.
(Y/N) switched spots with Vera, skirting around her friend to allow her to see the end of the show while she was pulled to the edge of the pit. "Is everything okay?" was her first question, the words shouted in his ear over the noise of the music and the crowd.
"Yeah," he answered, a nod of his head as he split his attention between this conversation and the man on stage, "H just wanted me to pull you to come backstage before the end of the show. He said he had something he wanted to ask you."
"Oh?" She reared back, a furrow to her brows.
Jeff only shrugged, "He just asked me to grab you right before he went on for encore."
"Okay," she relented, this not being the best place to extract information given that the sound of Elin's bass was rattling through her bones, "Let me grab Vera, I'll be right back."
All it took was for (Y/N) to share that Harry had something he wanted to ask her that Vera was practically taking the lead and tugging her along. Jeff escorted the two of them down the familiar roads to the backstage area, hidden in one of the tunnels of the venue and out of sight of the concert-goers though there was still a sliver of a view of Harry onstage.
The timing was serendipitous as Harry could be seen finishing his rounds, blowing kisses and sharing his thanks to everyone who came out for the show all around the stage. The lights went down just as the final crashes of Kiwi came to an end, leaving Harry to run off stage and join the back where his friends awaited him.
Adrenaline radiated off of him in waves, hair slick with sweat while his eyes shone with something she had only seen from her spot off to the side of the pit section. A broad smile was embedded on his lips. Harry bounced on his feet as he greeted those who had waited for him, asking how the show was, though he barely waited for an answer before bubbling off to another individual. When he caught sight of (Y/N), his energy seemed to explode between the two of them.
His smiling lips formed the syllables of her name before he bounded towards her, arms open. (Y/N) let out a small ooph as he scooped her into his arms, the wind being knocked out of her lungs at the force of his embrace.
"Hi," he greeted her, voice surprisingly soft given the energy haloing his form, "'M so happy you're here, thank y'for staying." If she hadn't been prepared for the hug, her surprise only grew when she felt a pink-stained kiss be planted on her cheek. Harry only tightened his arms around her as he settled into her neck, the mouth she felt the ghost of on her cheek now buried against her throat.
"I'm happy I'm here, too," she laughed, standing on the tips of her toes to accommodate the squeeze of his arms around her middle.
It took a minute for him to unpeel himself from around her, his adrenaline finally leveling out instead of coming in the erratic spikes that followed him off stage. He kept a loose arm around the small of her back, just under the wings she was itching to rip off her back.
"We—uh—We're, like the band and I and everyone, are going out for dinner after we get cleaned up and everything to celebrate. Would y'want to come with us?" Never once did his gaze flit anywhere away from her, the trademark Harry Styles eye contact being doled out tenfold with all of the glittering energy warping his halo.
There was no way she was going to be able to say no to that, now was she?
"Vera can come, too, right?" (Y/N) peeped, feeling the eyes of her friend lingering on their interaction in between conversation with the members of Harry's band.
At the mention of another's name, Harry seemed to remember there were more than just them in the catacombs of The Garden. He looked over his shoulder to where Vera and Elin were giggling away about something that was too hushed for them to hear.
"Of course, yeah," he nodded, his hand on her waist tightening, "That means you're coming?"
"I just need to get changed and everything, but I'll definitely be there."
(Y/N) should have expected the joyous embrace that Harry pulled her into at her words. Another delicate kiss was pressed to her cheek, the pink prints surely sticking to her skin. "I'll text y'the address then, yeah?"
"Okay," (Y/N) agreed, tightening her own arms around his middle to reciprocate his hug, "Thank you for inviting me."
"I couldn't have done this without you, you know that," he countered almost immediately.
Before much else could be said, Jeff tapped on Harry's shoulder, pulling him from the interaction. "We need to get you all cleared out before people start flooding out, c'mon."
"Right, right," Harry nodded, coming back to reality before unwrapping himself from around (Y/N).
They shared quiet goodbyes, Harry and the band of them tracing the steps back to their dressing rooms. More than once Harry turned around with a wave and heart-fluttering smile directed at (Y/N).
"So, we're going to dinner after this?" Vera asked, her presence closer than (Y/N) remembered.
"Mhm."
—————
Back at her hotel, (Y/N) couldn't bring herself to wipe away the kiss prints on her cheeks as she dressed down for dinner. She was going to keep those.
—————
"Did I get it?"
"No, it's still there."
"...Now, did I get it?"
"No, you're rubbing the wrong side of your face, what are you doing?"
Harry let out a frustrated huff as he looked at his still clean hands, the so-called glitter that was marring his cheek somehow still evading him. All the while, (Y/N) couldn't help the amusement from seeping into her tone and tugging at her features. She did try to be somewhat polite, hiding her smile behind her hand when she didn't think he was looking.
"Would y'jus' get it, please?" Harry requested though his words were annoyed enough (Y/N) could argue that they felt like a demand.
"You don't want to keep it?"
"(Y/N)."
At his tone, she relented with a sigh of Fine before playfully rolling her eyes. Truth be told, she kind of liked the look of him with the glitter, especially since she knew it was from her.
When he had hugged her back at the arena, smushing his face into her shoulder and kissing her cheek, some of the golden glitter that was sprayed over her own face transferred onto his skin and stuck there just like she wished she could. Even after he had wiped at his face, removing the makeup she applied for the show, the holographic specks remained stuck to his skin. It wasn't until appetizers had been brought to the table and everyone was one round of drinks in that (Y/N) finally revealed the secret of the glitter stuck in his stubble and underneath his eye.
"Come here," (Y/N) mumbled begrudgingly, twisting in her chair to sit with her legs over the side to face Harry completely. She scooted to the very edge, leaning into the familiar space around someone who was no longer her client as of three hours ago.
Harry lent towards her, stretching his neck out and offering the cheek with glitter smeared over his pores. (Y/N) took his face in her hands, palms gentle and warm around the cut of his jaw and the soft of his cheek. She did her best to pluck the specks off, though she knew better than most people that once you had glitter anywhere in your vicinity, it was going to be with you for at least another year, if not longer.
Though she was sure her efforts were going to be futile in the face of the glitter, at least she could take her time and finally admire the man she had in front of her.
She couldn't be more grateful for the late night policies of many of these New York City spots, and the low lights they utilized at this time of night. Harry was something of a god on stage, but under the faux candlelights and the neon bleeding in through the large windows on the face of the restaurant, he looked more prince than god. The tiniest of imperfections made their way to the surface, complete with a set of faint bags under his eyes (she couldn't imagine how exhausted he was after these two shows, let alone a whole schedule of concerts for the last two months), traces of his pink lipstain clinging to the ribs of his lips, and the blemishes that (Y/N) could imagine would pop up during a strenuous schedule like his.
He looked beautiful.
"Did y'get it?"
Harry's rumbling voice brought her back to her senses, noticing now only a single speck of sparkle remained on his skin.
"There's one I can't get, it just moves somewhere else, but I got the rest," she murmured, reluctantly leaning back into her own space.
Harry wiped a heavy hand over his face as if double checking her work though his fingers lingered over the same patches she touched. "Thank you," he said with a lopsided smile, a single dimple denting his cheek, "Should've had y'there to help me take everything off; would've done a much better job, 'm sure."
Wiggling her glitter colored fingers to show him the mess he missed, (Y/N) agreed, "Definitely could've done a better job than you."
With his eyes widening in shock, Harry let out a huff of a laugh. "I missed that much? And no one told me? They let me walk five blocks with glitter on half of m'face." He gestured around them to the others situated at their table.
The Love on Tour band along with Jeff, Orville Peck, Madison Cunningham, and Jenny Lewis with a few other members of the crew were seated all around. She and Vera had been the last to arrive, the walk from their hotel being a little bit longer than what she figured Harry's crew had to work with, but (Y/N) didn't mind, especially when it allowed Harry to properly introduce her to everyone around them. All the while her heart was operating on a rate of what felt like three-hundred beats per minute when she felt his hand on the small of her back as she lent over the table to shake hands with his colleagues.
But, her favorite thing about being late, was that Harry had saved the seat beside himself just for her.
Vera had made Elin and Ny her best friends for the night, while (Y/N) was happily sucked into the world of Harry Styles and the way he captivated her attention without even having to try.
Sweeping her eyes around the table, (Y/N) gave a shrug. "I doubt you're the weirdest thing to be roaming the streets of New York on Halloween Night, so I wouldn't worry."
That brought a laugh out of Harry's throat, his smile bright and dimples deep. "You're probably right," he said, sinking into his chair with his gaze lingering over her face, "It could be worse. I could be dressed completely normal, but with a face full of fairy makeup. Now, that would definitely be the weirdest thing to find out there."
(Y/N)'s jaw dropped in faux-offense, knowing exactly the kind of rib he was trying to poke at on her. It wasn't her fault she hadn't wanted to wash off her makeup just yet—if anything, it was his! Once she looked into the hotel mirror, dressed down in a heavy green sweater and a pair of leggings that had seen better days, (Y/N) couldn't find it in herself to part with the pink kiss marks dotting her cheek from a certain pair of lips she was dreading to forget.
Reiterating words she had told him countless times through the same smile when she was attempting to get him ready today, she told him, "You're so annoying, I can't believe I helped you!"
It wasn't until she made a point to wipe her glitter covered hand down the sleeve of his tan cardigan that (Y/N) realized she still hadn't moved into her original position, her legs still hanging over the side of the chair with her body angled completely towards Harry.
Harry caught her arm, his hand wrapping around her forearm in a grip strong enough to keep her from pulling much farther away. (Y/N) did her best to keep her breathing in check and the playful expression on her face as he lent closer, his own smile crooked and eyes sly and teasing, "'M only teasing, love, no need to get all worked up. You know y'look gorgeous—that's the only reason y'would catch anyone staring at y'tonight."
(Y/N) floundered for something to say, anything to fill the air between them, but in that moment her tongue felt dry and her throat was clogged with her heart. He was flirting with her, right?
Just then, Orville called across the table to Harry, asking him to settle a debate he had started up with Pauli. Harry only lagged a second behind, his hand reluctantly falling from around (Y/N)'s arm with his eyes lingering on her face before he turned towards his friends.
(Y/N) felt lucky in that moment to be on the end of the table, able to see everyone around her and their preoccupied positions while she had her momentary freakout. The warmth of Harry's palm remained around her arm, a ghost of his touch that seared into her skin with a soothing kind of heat.
From across the table, she caught Vera's eye. Her friend only raised a brow at her, a silent question asking if she was alright.
(Y/N) could only shrug. She wasn't going to be sure until her heart slowed down, and even then, with Harry right beside her, she knew she would be in limbo for the rest of the night.
—————
"Are y'sure y'can't stay?"
(Y/N) had to fight off the lovestruck giggle that bubbled through her chest at Harry's words. If she hadn't been already in a little too deep going into this project, tonight solidified the longtime crush she knew she was going to be carrying for him.
Even with all of his friends and colleagues around him, Harry's attention never strayed too far from (Y/N). When he was pulled into separate conversations, he even made a point to tug her along and ask her opinion or try to make her laugh. He was the same person in her makeup chair the whole night, just as funny and smart, though it seemed there was something more running under his words now. When she spoke, she swore she caught his gaze more than once slipping to her mouth.
But, all good things must come to an end, even the Halloween project that had taken roots in her mind for the last three months.
Though, in that moment, with Harry pleading for her to stay, bright green eyes framed by thick lashes she knew well, she wondered if there was any way for Halloween to last another day (or month even, she wasn't picky).
As much as she wanted to stay in her spot, stake her claim on this chair and never leave, (Y/N) remembered Vera waiting for her back at the hotel, having left an hour earlier when Sarah and Mitch declared it was time for them to go back to their baby. They had a booking in the morning for a pair of Real Housewives that (Y/N) had even been the one to remind Vera about, though now it seemed she was the one that needed the warning to go to bed and get some rest.
Reluctantly, (Y/N) nodded her head at Harry, her lips curving into a frown. "Vera and I have a booking with some Real Housewives in the morning, and I already know its going to be a mess, even without me staying out late."
Harry perked up at the sound of the franchise she was to work with, a murky memory she had read months back about him being a fan of the show resurfacing in her mind. Though, it seemed the mention of the television show didn't do much for brightening up his demeanor.
"Alright," he sighed, readying himself to stand from his seat at the table, "Could I walk y'out, then? I don't want y'to wait alone for a taxi."
A smile blossomed on (Y/N)'s features. Any time with him, no matter how short, was going to earn an automatic and bright agreement from her.
She nodded her head with a quiet sure, escaping her lips. By the time they were both standing, (Y/N) telling the remaining group at the table that she was leaving for the night and that she appreciated getting to work with them and how nice it was to meet everyone, Harry was barely informing anyone of his whereabouts. Only a half-hearted be right back! was called over his shoulder as he followed (Y/N) out.
"So, where to next?" (Y/N) asked as they stepped into the night air of New York, the neon lights around them shining brighter than the moon.
"Uhm," Harry hummed, reaching up to run his fingers over the side of his jaw, "Milwaukee, I think."
"Oh," (Y/N) sounded, requesting an Uber on her phone before tucking her arms around her middle, "Then back here again, right? Only get a couple weeks away at a time before you come crawling back."
Harry let out a laugh, shaking his head, "I do have another show here but not until—"
"Oh, my god," (Y/N) laughed, the sound loud in the middle of the night though it had nothing on the traffic bustling just a few blocks away, "I wasn't even being serious. You really have another show here?"
"It was a last minute addition!" Harry defended, leaning against the brick of the building though his body never shifted away from her, "I didn't even know until a couple of weeks ago."
"That's what they all say," (Y/N) countered airily, turning her nose up as if she knew something he didn't.
"And y'call me annoying," he teased, nudging his foot against hers in a gentle prod.
A beat of silence passed, (Y/N) aware of the fact that her Uber was only five minutes away and then that would be the end of the Cinderella magic that allowed her to become so close to Harry over the last few days. She let out a sigh at the thought.
Four minutes, now.
"I really liked working with you, you know," Harry said, his voice a quiet rumble between them. He gazed at her through his lashes when she flicked her own eyes in his direction. "'M touring for the rest of the month, but after that—uh—I... I would really like to see y'again."
Time could have stopped in that moment for all that (Y/N) was aware. He wasn't saying what she thought he was saying, right?
(Y/N) tried her best to rein herself in, tugging back on the frantic butterflies that threatened to invade her stomach and crowd her lungs. "Of course," she started, words stilted, "Whenever you need a makeup artist or any advice, just let me know and I'll be there."
Harry's lips curled into a crooked smile at her words, dimple deep in his cheek. "I'll definitely be doing that," Harry murmured, amusement tinting his tone, "But, I was really hoping I could see you, again. Without having to sit in your chair and have things glued to m'face, anyway."
Those butterflies that were verging on rabid were too much for (Y/N) to contain any longer. He was to see her again, outside of the professional relationship they had forged as he sat in her makeup chair. He wanted what they had found on the couch of his dressing room and in the chairs they vacated in the restaurant behind them. He wanted what was encased between them the second he jumped off stage tonight and wrapped her in his arms.
Two minutes, now.
"I'd like that, too," (Y/N) peeped, using her shaky hands to pull up her contact book on her personal phone. "I know you already have my work number, but—um—if you want, this is my personal phone. You could put your number in, or—um—we could keep talking through my wor—"
Harry cut her off with a soft laugh, reaching his hand out for her offered device. "This is alright, don't worry."
(Y/N) watched as he typed away at her phone, his number subsequently being added to her contact list.
One minute.
Giving her phone back, Harry didn't hesitate before pushing off of the bricks and bringing her into a hug. (Y/N) reacted in affected movements, her brain struggling to keep up with the amount that's happened in the last five minutes. She settled with her arms wrapped around his middle, cheek against his chest, while Harry's had landed around the width of her shoulders, his own head dipping to rest in her neck.
"Text me when you're back at the hotel safe, yeah?" he whispered to her, arms tightening a minute amount around her form.
"Yeah, okay," she smiled, the lovestruck giggle she had tamped down before now making its way out against his chest, "I will."
It was the sound of a car coming up to the curb, idling only a few feet away that had Harry peeling himself from her form. (Y/N) allowed herself the privilege of his body under her hands as her touch lingered around his waist, she looked up to find him already smiling at her.
"C'mon," he said, voice quiet as he placed his hand on the small of her back.
(Y/N) happily followed after him as he ducked down to talk to the Uber driver as if he wasn't Harry Styles out in the middle of the city after a sold out show at Madison Square Garden. He verified the name of the driver, double checking all of the information for (Y/N) before he finally tugged her along.
Opening the back passenger door for her, Harry molded another soft smile onto his features. "Goodnight, (Y/N)."
With a neon blue sign radiating from behind him, (Y/N) saw remnants of the god that took his time on stage and shared with the world what a rockstar looked like in the modern age. But, more than anything else, she saw the man she had met in her makeup chair that made her heart race without all of the swagger that he turned on for his fans.
She saw Harry.
"Goodnight, H."
As her Uber started off towards the hotel, (Y/N) pulled up the newly added contact to her phone.
Harry Styles:)
God, she couldn't wait to see him again.
—————
Pulling up to the studio, (Y/N) felt an excitement rattling in her bones she hadn't felt in months.
She and Harry had been keeping loose contact since the final night of Harryween, messages incoming around Harry's busy schedule. Though the initial plan had been to meet up once he was finished with tour—his last show being in New York which (Y/N) made a point to tease him over—the hectic agenda of a rockstar proved too much for Harry to make concrete plans around. Though (Y/N) had been disappointed having to push off seeing him again so many times, the fact that he was trying and had kept the possibility of meeting up again alive, was enough for her to be happy.
But that contentedness had nothing on the moment when a text came through from Harry asking if she would be free to help him on set at a photoshoot for a magazine he was booked to be on the cover of. He had declined the makeup artist the magazine had offered, telling them that he knew someone in the area he really wanted to work with again. It wasn't exactly the date she had imagined they would go on when they finally had a chance to see each other, but if this was the best way for him to commit to plans with her, aside from planning out a dinner three months from now when his schedule was set to clear a little more, she wasn't going to turn it down.
That was how she found herself at a studio she had been to only a handful of times, readying herself for what Harry described to be an editorial photoshoot to go along with the roll out of a couple of upcoming projects he was the face of. They had discussed the pair of looks he was wanting to showcase, her kit stocked full of the items he had requested along with the book he had been telling her he wanted to borrow from her whenever he had the chance.
Walking in, she joined the rest of the crew that was readying for the arrival of Harry Styles, a PA instructing her to a corner of the set where a pair of vanities were set up for her to take over. She saw the familiar face of Harry Lambert working away at what was the makeshift wardrobe department by the single bathroom that was sure to act as Harry's changing room. After shooting Mr. Lambert a small wave when she caught his eye, she took stock of the room around her as she unpacked her kit.
A large white sheet was draped along the center of the back wall, the beginning bones of the backdrop for the photoshoot. Wardrobe was stocked full of different outfits hung on the limited rack space, polaroids of different looks taped to the back wall for Mr. Lambert to reference as they picked through the ensembles for the photos. PA's and other crew ran around the space with props, clothes, camera equipment and more as they built the set to be ready for Harry Styles, the man of the next few hours until The Shot was secured for the cover and the main spread that was going to be all about him was filled with an archive of photographs.
(Y/N) couldn't help her heart from racing as she realized just how soon she was finally going to get a chance to see Harry again.
She had kept up with his tour after Halloween, noting the way his charisma and showmanship never waned even in the last few concerts of the tour. Even when his new brand was being presented to the world, he never once faltered or seemed overwhelmed at his shows, seemingly glowing with all the praise being offered towards the Pleasing products she had heard rumors about since the beginning of last year. Her admiration for him as a performer only grew.
Seeing the photos of him, chest often times bared with curls framing his face and softening his features as he sang love songs and created an atmosphere full of self-love and acceptance definitely didn't hurt either. The messages she would receive in the middle of the night when she knew he was coming off stage or early in the morning on what she assumed was a day off of his, allowed her heart to keep simmering for him even in his absence.
With her back turned towards the set, (Y/N) pulled out the loose and gelled glitters she brought along, a few options of each for Harry to pick through for the shoot. Her concentration was placed on a mix of iridescent, star-shaped glitters she had mapped out could be tapped underneath Harry's eyes if he picked them, when she heard Mr. Lambert's voice ring out through the studio.
"Sue!"
A deep, familiar voice she'd only heard in videos for the last months answered back, "Susan!"
Whipping her head around, (Y/N) found Harry trailing in through the maze of PAs and set designers with greetings falling from his lips to every individual that had a moment to speak to him. He was bright spot amidst all the bustle going on around him, a sunny yellow, crocheted hat on the top of his head to crown him the sunflower king of the day. The same baby tee he had been wearing the day she helped him dress up as Dorothy adorned his torso, the smiley face on his chest a beacon. Artfully faded and ripped jeans fell over his legs before they made way for a well-loved pair of Vans he wore almost everywhere according to pap pictures and fan sightings, pink shoelaces bright against the plain white (or brown at this point) canvas. Once he made it to wardrobe, Harry wrapped his friend in a warm hug, his grin wide.
He was a lot earlier than she would expect the talent of a photoshoot to be. Maybe it was her years working in the L.A. beauty scene, but (Y/N) was much more used to these important people showing up just in time to get dressed and in makeup before being hurried to set, never this early and this welcoming to strangers on set. But, the glimpses that she got into Harry's demeanor over that Halloween weekend showed her that she shouldn't be all that surprised anyway. He was never anything less than extremely kind and sweet to everyone he met, even during interactions that lasted less than a handful of seconds.
Of course, he would be the one to show up over an hour early to his call time. Of course, he would be the one to say hello to the flustered PA who's kindness and willingness to work was being taken advantage of by the photographer. Of course, he would be the one who was different.
Unable to keep her lips from curling into a smile, (Y/N) only allowed her eyes to linger over the Harrys for a second longer before turning back to her station. He would come to her when he was ready, that's what she told herself, and being caught staring at him wasn't going to be the most welcoming introduction after months of not seeing one another.
It was only when she tugged out the face charts she made up for him, that there was a shift behind her. Something about the air changed the only way it does when someone with a presence approached. (Y/N) knew exactly who it was.
"Hey, you."
A bright smile made its way onto her face, (Y/N) spinning on her toes to see the owner of the greeting voice.
"Harry!" she beamed, finding him standing behind her with his curls peeking out from underneath his sunflower stitched hat. The wide grin she had spotted from across the room was now directed at her, dimples deep in his cheeks with the white of his teeth bright against his California tan.
"How are you?" he asked, his voice a quiet rumble between them. He looked her over with the familiar warmth of his gaze, eyes taking in the full of her form as he opened his arms in invitation to her.
"I'm good," she sighed, stepping into his arms with a contented smile on her face as her cheek met his chest, "How are you? It's been so long."
"It has been, yeah," he mumbled into her shoulder, his arms tight around the width of her body, "'M good, 'm really good. Thank y'for coming."
(Y/N) pulled back just far enough to look up at his face, his hat tamping down his curls to frame the height of his cheekbones with the brim creating something of a shade of privacy for just a moment. "Of course," she whispered, "I've been really excited to see you again."
The smile that bloomed across Harry's lips was something (Y/N) had never seen in any photos or read about in any profiles on him. "Me too."
For a moment (Y/N) forgot about the chaos running around them, the noise of the impending shoot becoming nothing more than a dull murmur in the peripheral of her mind. This moment alone was well worth the wait since New York.
Though she could have stayed in his arms for the duration of the shoot, Harry being one of the best huggers she'd ever met, she knew that probably wasn't the most professional look while being on the job. So, it was her who drew away first, her shoes scuffing the floor as she shuffled back towards the vanity.
"You're early," she said, resisting the urge to busy her fingers with the glitter-gel pot at her left.
"Am I?" Harry asked with a lilt to his tone, as if he'd heard that statement a hundred times before.
"I didn't think your call time was for another hour," (Y/N) explained, her eyes following him as he moved to lean against the vanity beside her, "I was just surprised to see you here already, that's all."
The intense eye contact she'd forgotten in his absence made it's debut for the day, the green of his eyes something she wasn't able to forget even if she'd tried. Harry shrugged at her, his gaze never leaving her own, "I was excited about this one, what can I say?"
Maybe she was reading a little too far into it, getting too excited to be back in the presence of someone she harbored a puppy's crush on, but she couldn't help but feel like he was telling her that she was a part of why he was excited.
"Nothing wrong with that," she smiled, "What's all this for anyway? Something special coming soon?"
At that, Harry's grin grew sly and crooked, his eyes finally falling from her own to catch sight of his overworked Vans. "'M not allowed to say," he mumbled, an apologetic roundedness to his features, "'S something new I've been excited about, yeah, but 'm not supposed to say anything else about it until the article comes out. I've already been in trouble a handful of times with my manager because I've been a bad secret keeper about this one, can't do it again."
"Not even a little hint?" (Y/N) pried, feeling a sense of deja-vu. It seemed he struggled to keep secrets like this, which only endeared him further to her. Besides, she was only teasing as she hadn't wanted him to get in trouble or anything... but it would be kind of fun to be in on a big Harry Styles reveal.
Harry feigned thought, puckering his lips to the side as he seemingly rolled the idea around his head. "Maybe," he settled on, ducking his chin to offer his serious proposal, "If y'make me really pretty for today's shoot, I might give y'a hint. Maybe."
Letting out a hum of thought to play along with his game, (Y/N) faux-considered his offer. "I'll see what I can do," she finished, a smile creeping on her features when she noticed the familiar red painted on Harry's nails.
Though her own were a bright shade of white now, that candy apple red brought back a slew of giddy memories.
It was then that Harry caught sight of the various glittered set out on her vanity, the closest one with a myriad of stars and moons mixed in being the one that held his attention. "What's this for?" he asked, reaching for the jar like a curious puppy with a bone.
"Well," (Y/N) twisted in her spot, gesturing for Harry to take a seat in her chair, "I had a few ideas if you wanted to look at the charts I brought..."
—————
(Y/N) watched as Harry, now with his hair mussed to perfection with the curls creating the perfect spirals and waves he was known for, dressed to the nines in a lemon yellow crop top and a pair trousers made of black mesh with bright butterflies embroidered over where it mattered most, posed in front of the camera. His hands were decked out in his iconic range of rings, the most garish of his collection making their presence known. A jade beaded necklace clung close to his throat, working against the bright yellow of his top, matching the faux-earrings cuffed around his ears. Behind him, the white sheet that made up the background had been transformed into something of a fantastical dreamland; faux plants and shrubbery was formed around him though it was clear Harry was the star and the fluttering butterfly figurines were there for nothing other to enhance the world he was to pull them into.
His makeup was left minimal for the first round of shots, nothing much farther than glowy skin prep (alá the Pleasing illuminating serum (Y/N) had been way too excited about adding to both her professional and private collections) and a brush through his brows and curl to his lashes. Harry was very excited with the various face charts she showed him, the glitter being the main focal point he was giddy over, but told her the vision for a few of the shots were for his skin to be clean and easy while the clothing they had picked would steal the show.
He was a natural, that much she could tell from the last few sets of photographs. While he definitely made the stage his home, modeling and being in front of a camera like this was something she thought might be a vacation home for him—something different to performing, but fulfilling in its own way. The photographer didn't offer much more than for Harry to look one way or another, change his footing, or ask for help from hair or makeup (she really was only needed when another coat of glossy lip treatment was to be applied to his mouth). The rest was up to the man in front of the camera as he moved with a goofy smile in between takes before turning on the serious charm when needed.
After she had finished what turned out to be only a ten minute makeup application (after just over an hour of them talking as Harry sat in her chair), Harry had requested she stick with him as he had his hair fixed. Though he was more than happy to chat with her, offering insights to what he did after tour finished (other than finishing the book he borrowed from her, which he told her he wasn't super in love with the alternating plot lines but he thought the writing was very beautiful) and what he was planning next (still no hints about this new project, though (Y/N) tried), he seemed much more inclined to ask about her. Every conversation was turned around into a question for her, what she thought about this film that had been rumored around L.A. to have begun private castings for, what her holidays had been like, and what she planned on doing after this (a very boring answer she had offered, but Harry didn't seem particularly disappointed by it).
He'd tugged her along for everything, keeping her close when he was trying to figure out what the first look of the day should be, spilling funny faces to her when he didn't think the hairdresser was looking, and incrementally asking her what she thought of specific stylistic choices despite Mr. Lambert being right there. Nonetheless, she felt honored to be glued his side, his name falling from her lips when he wanted attention.
That's how she was roped into following after him when an outfit change was called for, the photographer asking for the quick set change in the mean time. As an arsenal of flowery fake plants with mossy additions and dreamy light filters were being rushed to the set, Harry was corralled off to wardrobe, a look over his shoulder towards (Y/N) telling her that she was meant to come along.
"Is it time for the glitter yet?" she called as he disappeared into the bathroom with a garment bag, the door cracked just enough to hear her words.
Popping his head out of the doorway, (Y/N) was greeted with a heavenly smile and a hint of his bare shoulder, tattoos included. "It is," he decided, the beam of his smile almost matching hers.
"Flowers?" Her question referred to the pot he seemed particularly drawn to, a mix of pink and purple, cosmetic grade, flower-shaped glitters distributed among finely milled iridescent and green sparkles.
The dimples in Harry's cheeks were deep and calling for someone to poke at the depth.
"Flowers."
—————
(Y/N) had never been more proud of her work than what she had done today, she decided as she packed up her kit.
She'd never been a part of anything like this shoot before, even taking the handful of editorial style gigs she'd worked on in the past into account. Not only were the changing concepts attention grabbing and something that would fit right into a dream. She could see the editing now, how the hazy lighting and filters that had accompanied much of the second half of shots were going to add to the magic that would happen in the photographer's dark room and make Harry the unofficial fae king he had been crowned.
But, her favorite part was how in love Harry was with the glittered look they had crafted.
After he changed into an outfit consisting of more tulle and silk than (Y/N) had seen in her life, all the fabrics dyed a sage green with faded bleached spots that held a tint of pink in the middle, it was her job to add the glitter they had agreed on and run by both Harry Lambert the creative director. The carefully placed fragments were dotted around his eyes—cuddled in the inner tear ducts, and stamped under his eyes before the fine sparkles were added in artful strokes that were dominating the internet and television at the moment. When she finished and he finally got a look in the mirror, his irises sparkled more than the glitter she dusted along his skin.
"I love it," he had told her, the words floating out on a breath.
That praise alone was what had her smiling brightly through the remainder of the shoot, through the small touchups she made between shots, and the elongated time she was taking to pack up her kit.
When the final shot had been taken, the photographer yelling out "This is the one, Harry! This is your cover!", Harry had been almost immediately hustled back to her chair with the help of PA's tasked to take down the set before the sunset. As (Y/N) did her job of removing the glitter from his face, plucking the flowers from around his eyes, she remembered the way he looked at her as she praised his work in front of the camera and how amazing she was sure the whole thing was going to turn out. After throwing the final makeup wipe away, this one streaked with the product she had threaded through his brows and the finest of glitter that shone green in the light, Harry stopped her with a gentle hand on her leg. His touch was familiar.
"Wait for me, yeah? I need to say bye to a few people, but I want to talk to y'before y'leave."
She hadn't hesitated before saying yes, smile tugging at her glossed lips.
For the last half hour, (Y/N) distracted herself with helping other's tear down their stations before taking her time to clean up her own area before some unfortunate assistant would be tasked with breaking down the vanity table to be carted away for whoever was set to use this place next. At some point during these distractions, she heard he sound of Harry's voice pattering through the chaos. He was doing just what he'd said when he asked her to wait: thanking and saying goodbye to almost everyone on the crew. He even stopped and helped Mr. Lambert pack away his things, taking some of the heavier totes and crates off of Claudia's hands with a muttering of I'll take that, don't worry.
"Y'waited."
Now it was her turn to have that attention.
His voice held an edge of wonder, like he wasn't sure she was going to really follow up with her promise of sticking around for him. (Y/N) looked at him over her shoulder, hands busy righting the stack of face charts she brought along, a bright smile on her face. He was back in his street clothes, the bucket hat just barely containing the perfectly coiffed curls framing his face. (Y/N) could only spot one single remaining fleck of glitter, just to the right of his eye as if it were nothing more than a beauty mark.
"Of course, I did," she said, raising her brows, "Did you do everything you needed to?"
"Almost," he answered, the word quiet and slow.
It was then that he jumped in, helping to put away the final remaining products that she'd left laid out on her table. Just as she was going to slip the strap of her kit over her shoulder, Harry's gentle hand stopped her, red painted nails standing out starkly against the white blouse draped over her torso.
"I'll take that for you, yeah?"
(Y/N) dazed response came in the form of a quiet, "Yeah, okay."
Harry's smile was crooked on his features as he walked out with her, finally goodbyes called out over his shoulder to which the PA's and helpers shouted out their own send offs to "Mr. Styles." He only let out a small laugh at their reactions.
Entering the parking lot, the sun was low in the sky but hadn't yet touched the horizon. The pavement was bathed in orange tones, ranging from sherbert pink and bright coral to a blazing orange that was half the sun's fault, and half thanks to the smog that clouded L.A.. All that was missing was flakes of gold to rain from the sky like snow. Golden hour, she recognized.
When she noticed Harry give her a questioning glance, brows raised, she pointed across the lot. "I'm over there," she said, happy to have him walk her all the way out. That's what she got for coming at her actual call time, and not twenty minutes earlier to get a closer spot.
Harry's face twisted into a grin at her words. "We're neighbors, then. I parked right beside you."
"Really?" she asked, her voice titling at the end in curiosity, "I would have thought you'd pick a spot closer. You're the star and everything, it'd be well deserved."
Harry shrugged, shaking his head as the brim of his hat flounced at the motion. "I don't like to take those spots since 'm probably the only person that jus' has to bring themselves. I have nothing to carry back and forth like everyone else."
Of course, he thought like that. Because, as she realized earlier, Harry was different.
"This is you, I'm assuming?" (Y/N) asked once they made it to the pair of slots towards the edge of the lot. She couldn't hide how impressed she was from leaking into her tone when she caught sight of the bright yellow, vintage, convertible parked beside her Honda she couldn't even remember the year of.
He shrugged, though his pleased smile was a little too hard to hide. "I like to take it out when the weather's nice."
"I don't blame you," she laughed, unlocking her car. She led Harry to her passenger seat, the side closest to his own car, opening the door for him to store her kit for the drive home. Once he was cleared and out of the way, (Y/N) moved to close the door behind him, a smile on her lips though it was a bit bittersweet now. From her spot edging closer to his car, she saw him backlit with the help of the golden sun acting like the halo that should have been placed on his head during the shoot. Though she decided she'd never seen anything more breathtaking in that moment, she sunk at the fact she didn't know when she would get to see him again. If at all.
"Wel—"
"Than—"
(Y/N) cut herself off at the same moment Harry had, an apology tumbling from her lips that only ended up crashing into Harry's once again. With a laugh, she waved her hands between them as she shook her head. "You first," she determined.
"I—uh—," he started, a breathy laugh interrupting his words as he passed his knuckle under the tip of his nose, "I was jus' going to say that I really like working with you, (Y/N). I don't... We waited too long to see each other again, I think."
When his gazed matched her own, (Y/N) couldn't stop the flutter that tugged at her heart. Here they were again, making plans that she was going to yearn over for the next months. She wouldn't have it any other way. Harry was worth the wait.
"Me too," she smiled, twisting her fingers into a heap, "I really look forward to these kinds of projects with you. We have a lot of fun, I feel like. But, I understand you're busy and don't always have the say in bringing me along, so I understand why we don't see each other more often."
Harry shook his head, making the distracted movement of trying to run his hand through his hair despite the hat on his head. He let out a laugh that melted into (Y/N)'s when his fingers became entangled in the crocheted fabric, opting to just pull the piece off and tuck it in his back pocket.
"'M busy, yeah," he said, a set appearing in his jaw when he looked at her through the frame of his lashes, "But I don't—'M not too busy for you."
(Y/N) heart appeared in her throat in that moment, the beats of the chambers felt against he delicate skin of her neck with her blood rushing past her ears in a way that drowned out everything but Harry.
"If 's alright with you," Harry continued, his hands coming to tug on the cropped hem of his top, "I want to see y'outside of work things, too. I think it might be fun seeing y'without glitter ending up on m'face."
A giddy smile took (Y/N)'s features, something of a lovestruck giggle came out at his joke. "That's alright with me," she settled on, "Definitely." Her smiled bright before it was directed at the pavement under their feet. She hoped the break in eye contact would allow for her brain to click back into place, though she knew that was a long-shot when she knew Harry Styles was right there and had effectively just asked her on a date.
"Yeah?" he smiled, his voice floating out on a breathless sigh.
(Y/N) couldn't find it in herself to manage any other kind of response other than her smile widening on her features as she nodded her head. "Yeah." How she was going to be able to drive home through L.A. traffic with these clouds stuffed in her head, she didn't know. "I'll text you later then, right? We can plan something."
Though he nodded his head, Harry didn't look ready to leave. She was proven right when he took a careful step in her direction. "There was one more thing I wanted to do before I left today, if that's alright with you," his tone was quiet between them, though the set of his features solidified into something serious.
"Okay," was her lame response.
With (Y/N)'s back now against the yellow convertible that suddenly looked too small for someone of his height, especially with the way he seemed to grow taller with each careful step he took closer to her. The careful hands she had felt just barely grazing her own when passing off products or on the two occasions he had settled on his palm on her thigh when she was working on him, returned to catch on the curve of her waist. His touch was just barely more than a ghost's graze, a light patch of warmth blooming under his palm.
"I feel like I should've done this back in New York," he mumbled, eyes trained on her features, memorizing every twitch and tic of her muscles. "Tell me if y'don't want this, and I'll stop. I'll wait for you."
If he was asking what she thought he was asking...
With his gentle grip on her waist, Harry lent down, dipping his head to be level with her own. A second passed, a moment for (Y/N) to stop him if she didn't want this, before her mind had all but vanished at the feel of Harry's lips against her own.
The clouds she had been worried would alter her driving skills didn't stand a change against he warm sunlight that poured out of Harry at the tender contact. They evaporated in a moment, leaving her clear minded, nothing else to concentrate on but the feel of his kiss.
(Y/N)'s restless hands moved to settled on the center of Harry's chest, something she had wanted to do since she saw him in his Wizard of Oz costume. The same chest that stretched the fabric of the outfit was now under her hand, the faint thudding of his heart underneath the layer of muscle giving away just how giddy he was for this moment like her.
Drawing away for just a second only to return with another innocent kiss to her lips, (Y/N) smiled at the contact. This felt like the end to a first date. Nothing was implied with their kissing, nothing other than the fact they liked each other with a promise of a next time slipped in there. Harry offered her one more soft-lipped kiss before effectively pulling away.
This time it was (Y/N) that lent up to her tip-toes, pressing a kiss to his cheek.
The grin on his face was something she wished people made face charts of. His curls were wild and unruly now that they were freed from the confines of his hat, the gel unable to hold any longer as the strands draped around his face in a way that acted as if they could curtain this moment and create a sliver of privacy.
(Y/N) even swore there was a blush on his cheeks, natural and rose-hued across his skin.
Taking a shuffled step back, the space causing reluctant hands to fall to their sides, Harry shook his head with dimples deep in his cheeks. "I've got to go to a meeting tonight over dinner, but could I call y'after? We can talk about... next time."
The mention of the next time could have knocked (Y/N) off her feet—and almost did, with the way she stumbled a bit as she moved to get out of the way of Harry's car. He only let out an endeared laugh around a bid to be careful at her stuttering feet, making (Y/N) feel a little less embarrassed.
"Yeah, yeah," she sighed, carefully rounding the front of her car though she couldn't find it in her to pull her eyes from him, "Call me whenever, I'll pick up."
He waited for her to pull open the driver's side door before speaking again. "Bye, love. Get home safe."
(Y/N) all but melted into her front seat at the sound of the endearment wrapped in his voice. "Bye, Harry."
The drive home was just as traffic filled as (Y/N) expected but there was nothing that could wipe the smile off her face.
Next time, he had said.
Now, she had to figure out how to tell Vera without getting ear-splitting screams of joy in response.
—————
ahhhhh!!! this is like the perfect combination of all my love for makeup and for harry jsut coming together and I just loved this idea so much like getting to put all the pretty stuff on his face:( I really hope everyone liked this and thank u so much for reading! sorry for any mistakes and if theres any ideas or requests you have of your own please send them in!
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chrollohearttags · 1 year
Note
Ok but hear me out: musician!eren and y/n going shopping, like I’m talking stores shutting down and locking the doors so they can browse in privacy
listen, you know they do not play. When I say ‘it’ couple, I mean it.
like it’s definitely an event when the two of you pop out. I’m talking DRESSED down..all the designer, all the ice and being escorted. His assistant has to call in advance before you even arrive to let them know and they most certainly prepare accordingly..pulling out everything above the average tax bracket because when Mr. Jaeger shops, oh he SHOPS. Ain’t no budget, no limit and the only the finest is touching him or his lady. Granted, you had your own money and worked hard but it’d be a cold day in hell before he let you touch a cent of it. (yes, he will laugh in your face if you even so much as suggest it) So you arrive at the mall, surrounded by an entourage of security and helpers…Lennox, Magic Mall, it don’t matter, y’all gone run up a bag regardless and whatever his baby wants, it’s yours. Because you’re still trying to adjust to this level of fame and notoriety, you think it’s a bit much you quickly understand why it’s necessary. Holding hands as you guys walk into the jewelry store, it’s immediately closed to the public eye, guarded to the highest degree and ready for y’all to browse to your hearts content. The attendant is top tier giving white glove service, holding up different watches and chains..letting them glisten underneath the lights. “Only our finest for my favorite customers.” Not one diamond is cloudy and it’s nothing for him to spend a half a mil there. Turning to you to ask your opinion since he’ll buy you one to match his fly as well. “What you think, princess? Like it?” And it’s the most beautiful piece of jewelry you’ve ever seen with the biggest price tag to boot. Still, he’s very particular and probably spends an hour until he finds the right piece. Going store to store, completely empty per his request so you can browse to your hearts content..new handbags, heels, dresses, lingerie…I mean letting you swipe that card left and right and does not bat an eyelash. If you look like you’re hesitating or he sees you staring real hard at something before putting it back, he tells his assistant to double back and grab it. His favorite though, is watching you exit the dressing room in various ensembles, looking fine as hell in each one. “Baby, how’s this one look?” and of course, he’s pleased and knowing nine times out of ten, he’ll be tearing you out of it anyways. Sitting sprawled out, smirk on his face..he asks to see it from every angle. “Spin around f’r me, I need to see it from the back.” cause the ass is always SITTING. And of course, y’all have so much fun, joking and playing around in the process. (side note: you try to hit him with that age old corny joke, ‘does my butt look big in this and he responds ‘hell yeah, buy it.’) Buying everything from Gucci, Rick Owens, Prada..you name it. Even doing coordinating fits (because let’s be fr, y’all be putting that shit on.) when it’s time to leave and load back up in the chauffeured, blacked out Audi..the line of matching SUV’s are full of the items you all brought with receipts a mile long. With those newly acquired Rolex’s, he lets you take a picture for the Gram with your hands splayed over each other..catching your wedding rings in the shot. He loves his work regardless but it’s the moments like this that make it all the more worth it.
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polydeuces · 2 years
Text
Wrapped around your finger
Harry Styles x fem! Reader
faceclaim - lee siyeon
requests are open !
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liked by harryskitchen, stylesgotthecinema and 83,672 others
y/nupdates: Y/n L/n was seen leaving the airport. Her long-time boyfriend, Harry Styles, is set to headline Coachella, which the fans have dubbed ‘harrychella’. L/n performed there last weekend only to go to New York for an unknown reason, and has now returned to support her bf for weekend 2.
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harryskitchen: STOP I LOVE HER SM
harryskitchen: STOP I LOVE HER SM
urfavharryfan: she’s just so 🫶🫶🫶
matildashouse: she’s so cute 💗
dreamsatthestyleshouse: my gf looks so cute here wowowwowowow
harrystylessource: if my girl doesn’t travel back and forth just to be able to make it to my special moments then I don’t want her.
y/nl/nsource: Not to mention that as of 3 minutes ago y/n changed her instagram bio, adding “#1 Sarah Jones fan (real)” in reference to the “___ girlfriend (real)” twitter and instagram trend. liked by y/nupdates, and pillowpersonpp
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liked by annetwist, mollyjane_X, and 284,928 others
harry_lambert: everyone’s favorite rockstar couple during choachella 1 & 2 ❤️‍🔥
tagged
gucci
harrystyles
therealy/n
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yourfriend: mr. lambert… you devil! you made these dorks look absolutely stunning. you’re magic!
annetwist: Pink, pink, and more pink! 💗 I love it
irinashayk: those looks are hot hot hot!!!
ellenvonunwerth: They are the COUPLE of the DECADE
chloeburcham: Y/n’s performance - killed it! looked badass (all thanks to you, Harry lambert) and the energy in the crowd and on stage is unmatched! Harry’s performance - mindblowing! looked gorgeous and was show-stopping, glorious! oh my god! liked by harry_lambert, gemmastyles, therealy/n and others
mollyjane_X: Such hardworking and talented souls these two are! Unforgettable night!
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liked by taylorswift, lookitsnyoh, and 3,928,837 others
therealy/n: I'm begging for you to take my hand. Wreck my plans. That's my man.
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taylorswift: see the dimples first and then you hear the accent, amirite? ⤿ therealy/n: omg
lookitsnyoh: get a room you two
lesleyannbrandt: Oh young love 💕
gemmastyles: yeah but I’m the funnier one and the prettier one and the first styles sibling to win your heart! liked by therealy/n
michalmlynowski: double date later
billieeilish: 🖤🎶
anthonypham: me in the mirror, brush in hand, singing Elton John in the bathroom
yourfriend: you said “love made me crazy, if it doesn’t you ain’t doin it right” ⤿ therealy/n: lord save me my drug is my baby ;) ⤿ hshq: I’ll be usin’ for the rest of my life..
annetwist: Oh my love bugs!! So supportive of one another !!
oliviarodrigo: mom and dad looking good and sounding amazing!!
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Harry styles photos by nikkimarie.jpg
One of my favorite photographers ever 🦋
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justsomerandomfanfic · 9 months
Text
Lips Like Sugar - Tony Stark X Female Reader
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Title: Lips Like Sugar
Tony Stark X Female Reader
Additional Characters: Natasha, Sam, Bucky, Steve, Bruce (Mentioned), Paparazzi, press, tabloids (Mentioned), Friday, Fury (Mentioned), and Thor (Mentioned)
Requested by: Anon!
WC: 3,260
Warnings: Sugar baby/Sugar daddy vibes, slight age gap, awkwardness, anxiety, nervousness, slight suggestiveness (blink you miss it), teasing, taunting, Tony, rumors mentioned, Tony's whipped, soft Tony, slight angst, insecurities mentioned, and fluff
Stepping out of your Mercedes-Benz, you pressed the button on your keys; smiling at the sound of the quick beeps as it locked. Adjusting the many bags on your arms, you raised your hand and adjusted your Gucci sunglasses before walking into the Avengers Tower. You greeted the receptionist with a warm smile before walking over to the elevator; your heels clicking and clacking against the white tile floor. You adjusted your shopping bags in your arms once again before speaking, "Friday? Can you take me to Tony, please?" You called out to the AI, glancing at the ceiling of the elevator.
"Absolutely, Miss. L/N," Friday spoke, activating the elevator, "Mr. Stark has been wondering when you'd arrive."
You hummed, glancing down briefly at your bags, "Hope I'm not late for anything?" You muttered out loud, not really asking for a response from the AI, but she answered your question.
"Nothing is on the schedule today. Mr. Stark and a few of the other Avengers are on the Common Floor."
You nodded just as the doors opened, your eyes landing on a few of the Avengers just seemingly hanging about. You didn't really have a good friendship with any of the Avengers, which saddened you. Well, you had Steve, but it just felt like the others judged you. They seemed to judge you based on how you met your boyfriend, Tony Stark. 
You were a freshman in college, at the ripe young age of twenty. You had just started college after taking a year off to save up to even get into the college of your dreams. But, it wasn't all sunshine and rainbows, in just a month, you were broke, and not even your job at the coffee shop down the road from campus could resurrect you. You lived off of ramen noodles and whatever free food you could get around campus, it wasn't really the life you thought you'd be living; being a broke college student with dreams. 
But, because of your major, and the specific class that you were in, you had the opportunity to join your class for a lecture. This lecture would be held by none other than Dr. Bruce Banner and Tony Stark. Sitting in the front row, sitting posed and straight-backed; you were ready to give all your attention to the teachings. You were very interested in what the two Avengers did, relating to science, of course. But, them being Avengers was one of the reasons you felt so giddy inside. 
Well, you never thought anything other than learning something new would come out of the lecture, but no, you had caught the eye of the Tony Stark. Tony was talking about the newest invention he had made to help neutralize Gamma rays but as he was explaining, his eyes landed on yours. He fumbled slightly, but as quick as he stumbled, he regained his composure. Tony had been taken aback, you were gorgeous. His eyes lingered a little longer than necessary before he cleared his throat and continued talking. He kept stealing glances at you though, and it took you a while to even notice. And when you did, you couldn't help but feel like a deer in headlights. What could you say; he was a handsome man, sure. But, he was also the Tony Stark. 
Now, Tony didn't make any real moves until he accidentally overheard that you weren't able to pay for the next semester of class. That day, while you were walking back to your dorm, Tony came to you with a deal of a lifetime. At first, you were shocked. Tony Stark was asking you to work for him as his assistant, and in return, he'd pay for your college tuition. It sounded pretty great, right? And it was, in the beginning, when paparazzi and people, in general, didn't know about the two of you. 
Now, you didn't think you were Tony's Sugar Baby, but that's what the press thought. They dug up everything they could about you and found out, somehow, that Tony was paying for your tuition. And seeing that you were seen going to the Avengers Tower every couple of days; it would seem that you were his Sugar Baby. Though, as the weight of the overbearing paparazzi took its toll on you, you realized that maybe you were one. Technically, when you look it up on Google, a Sugar Baby is ‘a younger person who provides romantic companionship or sexual intimacy to a wealthy older person in return for gifts or financial support.’ Now, Tony gave you financial support, and you did spend time with him and work for him in return - sometimes grabbing a coffee; but nothing romantic or sexual... And he did give you a few gifts here and there- Oh, God, you were Tony Stark's Sugar Baby.
That didn't last long though, because the more you and Tony spent hanging about with one another, the closer you got. Now, your job as Tony's assistant was to help Pepper, his head assistant, if you will. You'd double-check his schedule for any possible mishaps or mistakes and bring him paperwork to sign. And over the past couple of months, you began to develop affection toward the billionaire superhero. You didn't know when it happened in those months. But one day you suddenly realized that you loved whenever Tony finished an invention, seeing the smile on his face made your heart skip a beat. And you loved watching him work at his lab, tinkering with things. One morning, when you went to grab the files that needed to be signed for the day, you entered his lab where you found him leaning over his desk, deep in concentration. That sight of him alone made your chest feel tight, and your stomach do somersaults. And he wasn’t even doing anything. 
Tony wasn't really good with his feelings, really any feelings in general. He was prone to using sarcasm and wit to cover up his true emotions. So, he usually ended up bottling it up inside. But, with you, it was different; you saw through all his tough exterior. You saw a genuine human being, a hero, a man that was actually willing to put himself through hell for others, and for the greater good. Tony wasn't really used to that, sure there were the fans, but all they saw were the dollar signs. Tony knew there was something about you the day of the lecture at your school, and he knew he was in trouble. Never had he ever felt this way for anyone, that tightening in his chest and the warmth of his cheeks when you walk into the room; whether that be for him to sign something or to remind him about a meeting with Fury. Tony Stark wasn't good with emotions, but he fell for you and that realization scared him. Scared him because he didn't know how to handle them. And, on top of that, any relationship with you could never be, he was way too old for you. But you were so beautiful, intelligent, kind, and funny... He wanted to be selfish.
You did take into account the age gap, and you've heard of worse; twenty-four years wasn't that bad. Now, age is just a number, just as long as both parties are consensual adults. Anywho, you never thought in your wildest dreams that Tony would ever think about you in a romantic way. You thought he just saw you as some kid, and well, his first nickname for you was 'kid.' But, after seven months of working for him, Tony actually asked you out on a date. And to his surprise, you agreed to go. 
You thought he'd take you to some fancy restaurant, ride up in a limo, and share a bottle of champagne, but it was actually the opposite. Tony ordered takeout, knowing how much you love Chinese, and even got a private screening of one of your favorite movies at the theaters. It was the sweetest and the most romantic date you had ever been on, and that date led to another, and another, and another...
You and Tony had gone through a lot together, from feeling Tony insecure about his age and you constantly worrying when he went on missions; you both got through it all together though. You were always there for him when he was feeling especially anxious or insecure, holding him after terrible nightmares, and being there when just life in general seemed hard. You were never one to sit back and watch Tony struggle through the difficulties, you always jumped at the chance to help and protect. And he did the same. He knew that his promises of coming home safe meant everything to you, that there were times when you just needed him beside you, and Tony would always make sure that you knew how much he loved you. You were grateful that you even got to the point of joking around about the whole 'sugar baby' fiasco. It was awkward at first, sure, but now when he sometimes calls you ‘sugar baby,’ you just laugh.
And now, two years later, yes, it was still hard to go out some days, but not for the reason of being claimed to be Tony's sugar baby, but for a whole new reason entirely. Now the press, tabloids, paparazzi, and whoever was trying to stir up that you were nothing but a gold digger, just with Tony for his hard cold cash. Which is anything but the truth. Yes, Tony buys you tons and tons of gifts, but most of the time they are heartfelt and not just a giant bunny that takes up space. And, yes, you enjoyed some of the presents he did give you, but you didn’t care for the gifts or the fancy dinners, or the nice cars. You cared about Tony. You had gotten to the point of acceptance; you knew that as long as you were with Tony, in any way, you were going to have to deal with all the drama. And it was worth it. He was worth it. You loved him and he loved you, and that was all that mattered.
Though you didn't care about whatever the press brought up, you felt that you needed to prove to the other Avengers that you weren't just with Tony for his money. For the past two years that you had been at the Avenger Tower, you had only met some of the Avengers a good handful of times. Steve and Natasha the most out of them all. Most of the time they were on missions and that didn't give you much of a chance to meet them when they were states or countries away. You had an inkling that their hesitance around you when you were in the same room was because of the rumors about you, but the rational part of your brain told you that that was just paranoia. Maybe it just takes them a while for them to warm up to others, you could see that. All a misunderstanding. Anyway, the point is that you wanted to try and get to know the others, even if it would be a bit awkward. 
"Mr. Stark, Babelicious has arrived." Friday's voice echoed throughout the room, making you groan. You hated that nickname Tony gave you.
All eyes turn to you as you walk your way to the bar of the kitchen, setting a few bags on the ground, one of the bar stools, and the last two on the bar counter. You let out a sigh as you took off your sunglasses, setting them too on the counter. You could feel their eyes burning on the back of your head as you shuffled through the bags, you made sure you had everything; but before you could even begin to put anything away, you heard your name. 
"Y/N! Babe! You're back. Goodie." He greeted you, with a kiss on the cheek, , his scratchy archer beard making you smile. “What treats did you bring me?”
"Hey, T, I brought what you asked." You answered softly, taking out the groceries, "You said that we were out of the coffee grounds you like so I got those, and I made sure to grab more chocolate sauce since you practically drink all of it on our ice cream Sundae Sundays. I also got a box of PopTarts for Thor on the off chance he visits. Along with other foodie stuff that was on the shopping list." You informed him, immediately going into your 'girl boss assistant mode,' as Pepper called it; looking up at Tony after you finished unbagging the other groceries, letting out a happy little sigh.
"You’re an angel, babe.” Tony thanked you, before continuing, “Did you get yourself anything?" He then asked, leaning against the bar counter, unable to take his gaze off of you; you looked amazing today, just like every day.
You only shook your head, "No, I didn't need anything." You spoke and Tony sighed, reaching his hand up to brush a few stray hairs out of your face and behind your ear.
"You know you can get anything you want, right? If you see something you like, just get it. I'm a billionaire, I can afford it." He told you, smirking slightly.
"It’s not that I don’t think you can afford all I desire, my love. It’s just that I don't need anything. I got you." You countered and Tony chuckled lightly.
"Well, you deserve it all." He responded, making you hum.
"Well, what I deserve right now, is a good ol' nap." You muttered, placing your hands on Tony's chest as his hands secured tightly around your waist, “And I need some handsome someone who could put the groceries away.” You spoke slyly, looking up at Tony with an innocent-looking smile, "I'll be in our room if you need me, okay?" You asked; tracing your fingers over the outline of the arc reactor over his ACDC shirt. 
Tony nodded, practically swooning after you leaned up and placed a quick kiss on his lips, lingering there before you headed down the hall. Tony stood there, savoring the soft touch of your lips, the scent of your perfume filling his senses, the warmth radiating off of you. He missed you already.
"You're whipped, man." A voice called out to him, breaking him out of his thoughts. 
Tony turned and moved around the corner, his eyes meeting four other pairs. He almost forgot they were there. Sam sat on the couch next to Bucky and Steve as Natasha sat on the armchair; most of them were smirking or had mischievous looks in their eyes, Tony didn't like it.
Tony frowned slightly, clearing his throat as he got to putting the groceries away as quickly as he could. "I'm not whipped, Rocket Man," Tony replied, only making Sam let out a taunting chuckle.
"No, you're whipped, bro. She's got you wrapped around her little finger." The Falcon said, earning a snicker from Bucky and a roll of his eyes from Steve. "You don't stop buying her stuff."
"Yeah," Steve said, "You buy her gifts all the time. Just yesterday you tried to buy her another car."
"Can't have just one." Tony muttered, putting the bag of potatoes away.
Natasha then spoke, looking up from the book in her lap, "You bought her a vacation cabin in Norway.”
"See? I give great gifts," Tony tried to defend himself. “For her and friends.”
Sam gave Tony a small glare, "You give terrible gifts, last Christmas you gave me a shower curtain."
Bucky nodded towards Sam, "That's actually pretty nice-"
"It had Bob Ross's face plastered all over it. With the words, ‘I’m a happy little tree’." Sam deadpanned, making Bucky frown.
"Oh..."
Tony only huffed, rolling his own eyes, "Anyway, ignoring the hate I’m getting present-wise, you can't blame me that I'm a catch. I'm hoping you all don't believe the tabloids or news. She's not out for my money, so stop worrying. But that doesn't mean she doesn't deserve someone who can treat her like a queen." He spoke sternly, standing up for you, "And, well, if you look around, I can do that." He spoke, waving a hand dismissively around the room. 
"We are just looking out for you," Steve gave Tony a smile, "I'm glad you two have each other, Tony," He started, "If she makes you happy, then we're happy for you." He added, making Tony sign dramatically.
"This place is getting too sappy for my taste. If you need anything ask Friday, I'll be with my lady love." Tony spoke, hiding that he was actually appreciative of Steve's comment and unknowingly confirming that he was indeed whipped for you. 
Softly opening the door, Tony slipped into the room and slowly shut the door behind him. The living space was dark and quiet, only the soft sound of the afternoon birds chirping could be heard outside the curtain-covered windows. Tony took off his shoes, practically dragging himself over to the bedroom; he was also tired after a long day of being rich, and talking to Fury. The door was ajar, allowing the Iron Man to gently push it open and sneak inside; not wanting to wake you from your well-deserved nap.
Going over to his massive closet, Tony grabbed a tank top and sweatpants before changing; heading over to the large king-sized bed where you cuddled with Tony's pillow, held tightly to your chest. Tony admired you for a moment before he got under the plush, warm covers. Holding himself up on his arm, Tony brushed your hair out of your face, not wanting to wake you but you were holding onto his pillow with a death grip and he sort of needed that back. 
"Baby, you're holding my pillow hostage." He muttered, no louder than a whisper, his voice deep; watching as you mumbled something he couldn't quite understand before letting the pillow go. Pulling his pillow under his head, Tony got comfortable, his arm wrapping around your waist and pulling you into his warm chest.
Whether you were awake or still dreaming, you swiftly wrapped your arms around his waist, hiking your leg up to hook there as well; your usual sleeping position. "Tony?" You called out to him softly, a voice as soft as a mouse.
"Yeah, babe?" He asked, matching your gentle tone, his hand on your waist rubbing up and down; his fingers dipping under the shirt that you had stolen from him.
"I love you," You whispered, your words slow and sleepy, turning your head up to look at him.
Tony hummed, his voice deep and slightly raspy, "Love you too, Y/N/N," He answered before nuzzling his nose briefly with yours. "Give me some sugar?" He then asked teasingly, loving the little, sleepy smile that graced your soft features.
Leaning up slightly, you pressed your lips on Tony's, your hand running through his hair, causing Tony to shiver slightly, his heart fluttering at the feeling. As you pulled away, he smiled down at you, his eyes softening when they met yours and you let out a tiny content sigh and closed your eyes once more; digging your face into the crook of his neck. Tony let out his own sigh, his arm tightening around you as he shut his own eyes. You both drifted off to sleep almost instantly, lost in each other's arms and dreams.
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hauntingoldhouses · 13 days
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Masterlist and requests!
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For moodboard requests, you can just send me an ask, anonymous or not! If I think your request has anything questionable (rape, incest, dubcon, noncon, etc) it will be ignored. You can also link an one-shot that you think will be good inspiration, but it may take a while since I need to ask for the permission of the author to do anything inspired by it.
Charlie Barber
barbers girl
mr. born to lose
babysitter
ride home
sleepover
prom song (gone wrong)
Clyde Logan
the heist
heaven, california
late night hang
Enzo Ferrari
Maurizio Gucci
maurizios muse
snowboarding
Kylo Ren/Ben Solo
ultraviolence
lonely
alive
Flip Zimmerman
malboro reds
showing you how to shoot
rookie
investigating you
Adam Sackler
Paterson
hiding away
Commander Mills
pretty fawn
rescued
Jacques Le Gris
hidden
Ronnie Peterson
surviving
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madaboutmunson · 6 months
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Gucci Little Piggy
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I Think I Could Have Been Someone - Chapter 3
Ao3 Link
Previous Chapter | Next Chapter
Link to fic overview and all parts
Chapter Summary: Eddie and Steve officially meet for the first time at Steve's home
Author Notes: This is a mature story, definitely 18+ only.
Tags/Warnings: rockstar!AU; band; touring; music industry; alternate universe; drug usage; alcohol abuse; performing; enemies to lovers; road trip Word Count: 6.2K
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Marney: Unclench your jaw
Eddie wrinkles up his nose at the message on his phone in silent fury because she knows him so well.
Eddie: My jaw is not clenched. Everything is fine.
It was clenched, and everything was not fine. He doesn't know why he bothers lying to Marney. Maybe he does it for himself like the words were part of a spell that could magically alter the level of tension that was actually causing pain in his body. His jaw, across his shoulder blades, his fingers digging into his thighs through the denim.
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Marney: Just remember the money and exposure. 🤑
Eddie: Ok, never use that emoji again!
Eddie: You don't think I'm trying?
Eddie: I'm not a complete idiot!!
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Marney: Who are you? And what have you done with Eddie? 
Marney: He's my idiot and you'll give him back, otherwise I'm not meeting my quota
Eddie: Oh yes, ha-ha, very funny
Eddie: What's wrong with this guy? The residency isn't for another two weeks! 
Eddie: Mark my words. This is going to end badly. He's clearly insane.
Marney: His level of sanity I cannot confirm.
Marney: The amount of money pending to be transferred I can, though.
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Eddie: It was already six figures Marn. He adds another zero to meet the day after we agree to the project.
Eddie: For what? So you ship me off to him the very next day to have a conversation we don't need to have? It's all in the contract. 
Marney: It's all getting a bit Indecent Proposal, isn't it?
Eddie: That's not funny!
Marney: It is a little, getting to see you all flustered like this 😏
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Eddie: A million! A million dollars for a list of ten photos! That's insane! The man is insane!
Marney: A million is pocket change to people like Harrington. Do not sweat it. 
Marney: When that extra zero came in, I woke Legal up and booked you a flight.
Marney: His requests aren't anything weird:
Marney: The checklist of photos for the book.
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Marney: Access to all pictures taken.
Marney: You are on call for the duration.
Eddie: That last one…
Marney: Eddie, you used to do this ALL. THE. FUCKING. TIME! You know musicians don't keep regular hours. They can get inspired in the middle of the night.
Marney: And as you well know, it's usually you waiting around for them to wake up and function rather than you being woken up by them.
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Marney: It's a million dollars! People like us never see that kind of money. It's life-changing. Please. For me. Just be civil and get through it.
Eddie: I'm just saying it seems weird.
Marney: He also agreed to your project too, Ed. Don't forget that. I cannot tell you how quickly that yes came back.
Eddie: Because he's got no shame, Marn! 
Marney: Eddie. 
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Marney: Please. 
Marney: Point. Shoot. Edit. Send. Get paid. 
Marney: Change your stars.
Eddie goes to type back, but he feels the car slow to a stop. A crunch of gravel and muffled voices. Moments later, his door is opened.
"Mr Munson?" The woman asks as Eddie steps out and nods. The car is swarmed by athletic people sporting black security uniforms.
The woman in front of him makes eye contact with her team members and then looks back at him, "Your agent said you were staying?"
"I-I am. Just not here." Eddie says nervously. He was supposed to be, that's what Marney had advised, but Eddie had dug his heels in and got an airport hotel instead, at his own expense, "I'm so bad at waking up for flights, so," he scratches the back of his neck, "the closer, the better."
She folds her arms and levels him with a look before scanning him up and down. "You don't want to spend the night? Stay in Steve Harrington's house?" She almost laughs out the last question.
Eddie figures it's something ingrained in him that is making him nervous with all these official-looking uniforms around him, "Not if I wanna keep this job," he says with a forced laugh, looks down and rubs his stomach, "I should really learn that fast food doesn't always agree with me." He raises his eyes to her to see if his performance has landed, and though he's not sure she believes the story, she seems happy enough to accept it for some reason. She extends her hand to him.
"Buckley. Head of security here for Mr H. This is my team. Get to know their faces and names if you care to. If it's not one of us telling you, it's not mandatory." She says and waves him through the enormous, ornate gates that slowly open as she signals to the house.
Eddie quirks an eyebrow at that. Mandatory? If it's not one of us? What did that even mean? She didn't look like your typical bodyguard or security guard that Eddie had seen over the years, but knowing he'd be meeting her at the gates, he'd done his research.
Robin Buckley. She'd only ever worked with Harrington, no one before, no one in between. She wasn't a waif by any stretch of the imagination, but she was not your typical heavy-set build either. However, the footage Eddie had unearthed last night definitely sent the message home that she is not to be fucked with. She easily kept the crazies at bay, and Harrington's humanising posts about how safe he felt with her around made her a fan favourite. Even though she was often the only thing standing between him and his adoring followers.
He'd seen three times caught on film she'd intercepted a weapon or projectile aimed at Harrington. One effortlessly caught out of the air, cool as anything. Then there was a guy with a gun who had been leg-swept to the floor, had his wrist snapped, and was disarmed in a blink-and-you'll-miss-it display of prowess. You could see on the video Harrington hadn't seen any of it. Busy leaning back into the crowd for a selfie at the barrier with a fan's phone. Her team carried that guy away, and she just fell back into step beside him. The third was definitely the most terrifying. Mainly due to the fact there were so many different views of the same event because it happened whilst Harrington had been singing one of his most famous songs. It looks like a fan rushes the stage, not uncommon, but as Harrington shuts his eyes to croon to the crowd under the spotlight, something catches the light in the fan's hand, and if this had been a movie, you'd swear this would be the singer's last scene. But it wasn't. From out of nowhere, Buckley's big black boot steps into the light and puts the assailant in a choke hold from behind. They were out for the count in seconds and pulled back with her into the darkness. 
She gestures to a golf cart and stops him just before it. "We have to search you and your things. I can do it, or a preferred team member. Mr. H said it was imperative you were made to feel comfortable, but I do still have to check you aren't some weapon-wielding psycho. So we'll do it mid-way at the gatehouse." Eddie's eyebrows raise in alarm, fearing the worst. Jesus, how intrusive was this search gonna be? A smirk appears on her face, "Don't worry, Mr Munson, it's just a pat down, scan and bag check. I'm fairly confident I could incapacitate you before you pulled anything out of your ass." Her smile broadens, and it looks like she almost laughs.
Cleared by the search, he's returned his camera bag and taken to the house. House seems like a stupid word to use. It looked like a castle or fortress. It was huge. It loomed over the surrounding grounds, and Eddie felt tiny in its shadow. This place was light years away from where Harrington was in his life the last time they had crossed paths. The jealousy and loathing wake up in Eddie again, remembering the picture that ended everything. 
He just didn't get it.
He had taken that kind of shot hundreds of times. It went viral. The fans loved it. It eventually ended up on everything from billboards to stamps, but initially, it was just a social media post with his handle tagged in the text beneath it for two months. Eddie has been on the precipice of exploding, and in a way, he got a taste. Marney was inundated with offers, so many he was booked solid for two years by the end of the month, and he is eternally grateful for Marney crossing every t and dotting every I on those contacts because not long later, everything fell apart.
It started when Harrington released his tour diary. The pictures Eddie had taken at that gig were included, as were the shots of hundreds of other photographers. Some of the lesser-known ones in the scene were experiencing the same thing as Eddie. Harrington's tour had garnered so much attention, and his fan base was colossal even before he struck his first chord. Everything that the tour touched had credit cards and offers thrust at it. 
But something had singled Eddie out.
Harrington's team had sent him and Marney a copy each before general release, and before they'd even opened theirs, Marney got an email.
Harrington wanted to work with Eddie personally. Eddie couldn't believe his luck. Agreed straight away. But Marney had looked at Eddie's calendar, and he was already booked.
"Fuck Marney. This is crazy. Tell 'em, yeah, tell 'em the day we finish up all these, I'll leave myself free for any projects he has in mind." He'd almost foamed at the mouth with excitement. He and Harrington were blasting off into success at the same time, and he hated he couldn't give back to the person who gave him a boost and put his work in the eyes of millions. 
Marney sent back the offer, and they'd popped a champagne bottle. Before she'd even poured a glass, her phone had buzzed again, and this guy's preoccupation with Eddie had begun.
Eddie sighs and just tries to remember the money as Buckley and her agents of pain guide him through the lavish foyer and corridors until he's in a reception room of sorts. A small circle of sophisticated chesterfields on one side of the room, a wooden bar in the corner and a massive table with chairs neatly tucked in all around it.
One of the team gestures at the armchair, and nervously, Eddie sits with his camera bag and portfolio on his lap. He wasn't so much nervous in that he was expecting something terrible. It was more to do with this place being so fucking daunting and that he had to get through this to get paid.
The door opens, and Eddie forces a smile on his face for his nemesis. But what walks through the door is something else entirely. Eddie stands up immediately, almost dropping his camera bag and portfolio to the ground as he does, but he gets a hand to them at the last second and carefully places them on the coffee table.
The man points at him and, in potentially the most monotonous voice he's ever heard, says, "Great, wonderful, you're on time. I like the cut of your jib already…." He lifts the file he's holding to his eyeline and readjusts his glasses, "Munson." Eddie extends his hand to shake, but the man looks at him, then his hand, and then moves to sit in one of the opposite chairs, leaving Eddie to bashfully lower his hand and sit down.
"Ted Wheeler," he begins, and Eddie raises a hand to stop him as he pulls out his dictaphone, places it on the table, and hits record. The man looks at him over the top of his glasses and lets out the most prolonged sigh Eddie thinks he's ever heard. "Ted Wheeler of Wheeler & Family, representing Grindbone Records." He almost sounds bored of saying it. His voice was verging on dreary, "Mr Harrington wanted to arrange this so we can ensure everyone is on the same page." He scoffs and rolls his eyes, and that catches Eddie off guard. Shouldn't this guy be kissing Harrington's ass? He opens a file, and inside is a photocopy of the contract he's already seen and signed, "Just so you are aware, the agreed amount of one hundred thousand dollars will be paid for by the record label on completion of the project, as documented and signed for here." He taps the paper between them, "The remainder of the money," he shakes his head in disbelief, "promised to you by Mr Harrington, will come from himself whenever you've agreed between yourselves. We have no part in-"
A crash from somewhere in the house makes Eddie nearly jump clean out of his skin due to how quiet and monotonous this guy's voice has been. The guy opposite is unphased. He simply sighs, rolls his eyes, folds his arms and leans back in his seat. 
There is another crash and a livid, "Why didn't anyone wake me?" Something smashes, "Where is Buckley? SHUT UP!! I DON'T WANT YOUR FUCKING EXCUSES!! GET ME ROBIN FUCKING NOW!!! ROBIN!!!"
Seconds later, Buckley and one of her minions run through the room they are in and through the door Ted had entered from. Eddie doesn't know what to do, so he sits awkwardly for a second as the shouting gets further away and becomes muffled before leaning across the table.
"Look, can I level with you?" Eddie says quietly.
"I suppose we may as well do something while waiting for the theatrics to finish." Ted sighs and doesn't move or even look at Eddie.
"I don't understand why I'm here. I signed the contract. I've agreed to what was asked. The residency doesn't start for a while yet. I don't get it." Eddie says in hushed tones, occasionally glancing at the door.
Ted laughs sarcastically, "Well, join the club, Sport." Eddie's beginning to wonder if he's got competition in the ranks of hating Harrington.
"You don't know why I'm here either?" Eddie asks.
"Son, I don't know why I'm here." He says like he's absolutely over all of this already, "whatever all on the same page means." he mutters under his breath and checks his watch.
"OK, great. Well, that's just marvellous." Eddie says sarcastically and leans back in his seat, tapping his knees as he does so.
Ted turns to him and looks him over, "For a man getting paid a million dollars, you sure don't seem happy to be here."
"It's not that I'm unhappy," Eddie lies with a sprinkling of work laugh, sending him a big beaming grin, "I'm just confused as to what could be $900,000 worth of urgent."
"You should have held out another hour," Ted says, no humour in his voice. 
"Pardon?" Eddie says in surprise.
"Probably would have been offered double, or he would have sent his jet for you," Ted states factually, looking at his watch again, and Eddie frowns. That didn't feel good. The feeling of being bought. Like he had a price. Which ultimately was true, but to realise that about yourself feels hideous.
"This happen often?" Eddie asks, knowing it's to lessen that gross feeling creeping over his skin. If other people were bought this way to do his bidding, maybe Eddie wouldn't feel so weird about it.
The guy chuckles heartily, "People don't say no to Steve Harrington in the first place. Well, apart from you, evidently." Ted looks him up and down with a slightly raised eyebrow.
That riles Eddie up inside. What the fuck is this asshole implying, exactly?
Then it hits him. This interaction, Buckley's comments about staying over, Steve's persistence, throwing crazy amounts of money, promotions, or promises of backing his projects, and up until this offer. He'd declined everything because Harrington had ruined his career, but no one says no to Steve Harrington because everyone jumps at the chance to say yes to Harrington, just as Eddie did initially. They think I've been playing hard to get.
Eddie whips his phone out rapidly.
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Eddie: Marina…
Marney: Did you get there ok? Everything went smoothly I hope. Have a great day, very busy today babe. Speak soon xxx
She'd set him up.
Eddie: Don't you dare pull that copy and paste message in me!! 
Eddie: Just one thing, all those times I said no, did you tell anyone why I said no?! 🤬
Marney: Of course not, because I don't burn bridges Eddie. I just told them….you were busy. 
Eddie facepalms at the screen, and Ted grimaces, eyeing him worriedly.
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Eddie: So no one here has any idea that he ruined my career? They think I did a job, and then turned down offer after offer for no goddamn reason?!!
Marney: It was for a reason. You were busy. I just didn't say with what. Besides, advertising yourself as someone with their dreams in the toilet isn't exactly the brand I'm building for you Ed.
Eddie's lips form a tight line, and his grip is so tight around his phone he is sure he is one squeeze away from crushing it. He closes his eyes and counts to ten. 
He gets to six.
He hears a sharp inhale from the other side of the door. 
Ted stands, so Eddie copies him, even though he'd rather not. The guy isn't royalty. 
The door swings open. Buckley comes in first. Then, with a hack of a cough in strides Harrington, rubbing at his nose. Wearing some cliché rockstar garb, not what Eddie remembers and certainly not how he usually appears in the media or his work. Sheer shirt, lace-up pants, smeared eyeliner and dishevelled hair adorned with a few tattoos, piercings and excessive accessories. But Eddie smiles. Hugely. Almost laughs.
Harrington stops dead in his tracks. For a glimmer, he looks surprised but quickly falls back into himself. He pops his bony hip out to the side and runs a hand through one side of his obnoxious hair, looking Eddie over like he's got any place to judge him. But not even that can wipe the grin from Eddie's face because Harrington looks like shit. Like he hasn't slept in a year. Like he literally slithered out from under a rock. He looks like half the man in Eddie's old photographs of him.
Eddie grabs his camera, "Would you mind?" He says, gesturing to it. 
Harrington smiles and shakes his head, "Not at all." He talks like it's too much effort to enunciate his words, more a mumble than anything, "How do you want me?"
"You don't have to pose. Sometimes it's more fun if it happens naturally, like a candid shot?" Eddie says, his fingers moving rapidly over the camera and lens to prepare it for the lighting and distance this room could offer him.
"A voyeur," Harrington smirks.
Eddie's instinct is to bark back at this guy's mocking of him, but he thinks about the money and Marney. About his ideas and the differences he could make. He forces a small smile and tries to be funny, "A wildlife photographer."
Harrington laughs. His ringed hand comes to his face as he brushes his bottom lip with his thumb and looks Eddie up and down again. It's making Eddie's skin crawl. He feels Buckley's eyes on him and reluctantly lowers the camera, "Maybe the more spontaneous photos aren't suitable for this project." Eddie offers to cut the tension.
"Are you him?" Harrington asks with wide, almost manic eyes, and Eddie isn't sure who the He is that Harrington is referring to, "You aren't one of his underlings, are you?" and it must show because he doesn't wait for him to answer, he looks to Buckley. She nods, and Harrington bites his knuckle at her before turning back to Eddie. "You have my permission to take as many pictures of me as you want. Whenever you want. However, you want." He croaks out quietly. Even the way he talks annoys Eddie, like speaking at a normal volume like an average person is beneath him. Eddie's eye twitches with repressed rage.
"Provided we have access to them all, before you publish any, of course," Ted interjects, and Eddie watches Steve snap his head in Wheeler's direction, his mood shifted on a pinhead. Almost a snarl on his lip, tensed jaw, and a piercing glare.
Eddie snaps a photo.
Ted shoots a look at Eddie, and Buckley stiffens her posture.
The shutter noise does something to Harrington. Not only does it pull him out of his rage, but Eddie sees him instinctively go for that iconic Harrington pose he's been doing since his modelling days. 
He shifts his weight to one leg, a thumb in the pocket, pulling down his waistband further, as the fingers of the same hand splay out elegantly like a dancer against his hip and upper thigh, and he rolls back that shoulder. A minuscule bowing and tilting of the head, finding his light easily, before looking at the floor and flicking his eyes straight back up to the lens, a subtle pout on his lips.
Eddie takes another photo.
Everyone relaxes. 
Well, everyone except for Eddie, who is starting to get the sinking feeling that not only is Harrington insane, but this whole place might be, too.
"Show me," Harrington demands, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth, already extending his hand and approaching Eddie.
"Mr Harrington, I don't have time for this." Ted sighs, exasperated, and gestures to the seat next to him. Harrington rolls his eyes, clenches a fist, and turns to sit in the armchair.
Eddie releases the breath he didn't realise he was holding and sits down.
Once seated, Eddie tries to keep most of his attention on the rep, reviewing contract details they have all already read and signed. He occasionally acknowledges Harrington out of civility, but every time he finds his gigantic pupils are already boring into him, his leg bounces, his rings tap against the arm of the chair, or he fidgets some other way.
Eddie tries his best to concentrate on what is being said, but there is nothing new here. Nothing that wasn't in the contract. He can feel the ire rise in him. He pushes it back down, thinking about the money, and smiles broadly at Ted, but the goddamn tapping and staring was distracting. So much so that it felt like it started getting louder than Ted. It's like his patience is being rapidly worn down by the human cheese grater that is Steve Harrington.
"I feel we're all on the same page here. Do you need me for anything else?" Ted says his tone is steady, but Eddie thinks he can detect the slight hints of disdain.
"He has to complete the project now?" Harrington mutters to Ted but doesn't take his eyes off Eddie, and unnerving doesn't cover it. Eddie does a bit of internal coaching. It's just ten pictures, and it's a million dollars. You could probably get most of them done in one day. You're on call, but you're not obliged to spend twenty-four hours a day with this creep. It's gonna be fine, then take the money and run the hell outta here.
"Yes, he's signed the contract. If he breaks it, it will go to legal." Ted answers and Harrington's shoulders relax a little, "But I doubt that would happen. He seems professional enough." he closes the file and gathers it up to stand. Eddie stands, too. He's more than ready to leave this place, go back to the hotel, have something very strong to drink and complain to Marney down the phone for an hour or two. "He was on time for a start," and Eddie feels that jab swing for Harrington, but he doesn't seem to have noticed it.
Ted walks towards one door, and Eddie quickly gathers his things and goes to leave out of the other, but he turns to find the door blocked by two of the security team. He turns to follow Ted through the other door, but a firm, gloved hand lands on his shoulder and stops him in his tracks. Buckley shakes her head once at him and pushes him back into his chair.
Ok, now he's fucking scared. Stuck in a room with this fucked up guy and his minions that seem just to do his bidding. 
He looks up at Buckley, "The meetings over. I can go, right?" He swallows nervously.
"You can spare me five more minutes." Harington's fried voice, much closer than expected, commands, doesn't ask. Eddie nearly jolts at the sound like it was a jumpscare.
Ted turns back in the doorway and looks directly at Harrington, "That is unless Mr Munson finds his working conditions unsuitable, or if he were to sustain an injury that would prevent him from meeting his contractual obligations, then I believe we postpone, or the project is over." He turns his attention to Eddie like he can read his mind. Like he knows, he just thought about flinging himself headfirst into the coffee table to escape this impending shitshow. "We would have to, of course, investigate where the blame lies and then assess compensation for both parties." His eyes return to a clenched-fisted Harrington, "And it's such a lot of money we've invested, we'd have to recoup it from elsewhere in the business." For the first time ever, he witnesses Harrington shrink. He steps away from Eddie, not taking his eyes off the man in the doorway.
Eddie can sense this is a veiled threat of some kind, but Harrington just threw nearly a million at him to get here today. He could give them the hundred grand easily. 
Ted nods, "Gentlemen." And closes the door behind him.
Harrington walks to the larger table, "You bring 'em?" There is a silence, and as Eddie looks at Buckley, she raises her eyebrows, indicating it's him being asked.
"Er, yeah. Yeah. Right here." He answers, holding up the portfolio to someone who isn't even looking at him.
"Set 'em out." Harrington taps his fingers on the massive table in front of him. Buckley gives him a helpful guiding hand towards the table because Eddie freezes. He doesn't want to get any closer than he has to. Leaving a good gap between the two of them, he starts laying out the photos from that first concert in equally spaced rows, ordering them chronologically through the show. He takes a few more steps away once he's done and waits.
"Pool house or guest room?" Harrington asks.
Eddie doesn't mean to, but he just blurts out, "What?" with a laugh full of nervous energy.
Harrington unrolls himself from his slightly hunched form and straightens up to face him, a small smile on his lips, "For tonight, did you choose the pool house or one of the guest rooms?" He looks him over again, and the intensity of it makes Eddie remember his school days. The sinking feeling before a bully is about to strike. "You look like a pool house kinda guy to me."
"Oh, um, neither," Eddie replies, and Harrington looks over to his head of security, his brows furrowed. 
"Says he's not feeling too good. Would rather stay in a hotel." Buckley answers his questioning expression.
"Interesting," Harrington says as he steps closer to peruse the photographs. 
There is a shrill, "Harry!! Where are you?" from somewhere in the building.
"Excuse me." He mumbles and leaves the room for a second before re-entering with a large group of people surrounding the table. Eddie looks around at them subtly. He recognises a number of them, relatively high-profile people. A few movie stars, a pop star, directors, the rest he doesn't know. The one that enters draped around Harrington's neck he recognises as a reality TV star, Heidi something, he doesn't remember.
Eddie knows he's getting paid a million dollars already, but the money potential in this room right now is making him feel very greedy. He resolves to try and relax. Maybe he could get something else out of all this.
Heidi swings around Harrington's neck like one of his long chains and leans over the photos, pushing a few of them out of line. It makes Eddie's eye twitch again, but he just lets it happen, "Wow, did you take these?" She bats her spider leg lashes at Harrington, who chuckles and points himself out on several of them.
"Impossible. He did," Harrington replies, nodding his head towards Eddie, and all eyes around the table fall on him. As unnerving as it is, Eddie forces a smile and gracious nod. Harrington turns to the table, "Munson Photography. He's working with me on the next set of gigs." There is a chorus of nods and approving noises as the crowd swarm over the photographs. 
Heidi squeals and picks up a photo of Harrington strutting along the stage catwalk. The crowd lit up behind him, "Can I take this one?" She holds it up to Harrington.
"You'll have to ask the man himself, but prepare yourself for a no. He likes those." Harrington smirks at him as he answers her. There is a smattering of mutters around the table, and Eddie quickly leaps into action. 
"You're welcome to it. It's just a print." He smiles at her, even rips one of the pockets out the back of the folder and puts the photo safely inside for her, "There you go." Harrington is observing him the whole time. He sincerely hopes this isn't a jealousy thing because he really had nothing to worry about. She was not Eddie's type at all. "We aren't called that anymore, by the way, but this is my agent's contact number if you want it." He pulls out a little pile of cards and drops them next to the pictures on the table.
She turns to Harrington, "Is your friend gonna be here later, Harry?" She asks, and there is a slight tone to it, a raise of an eyebrow, as she presses herself up against him, and his arm naturally falls around her waist.
"He doesn't wanna stay. He's a very busy man." Harrington says, grinning at Heidi. They fall into some sort of all-tongue, not much of anything else kiss, and Eddie busies himself lining up the photos again to avoid cringing. She whispers something to him. Harrington releases her and stands right next to where Eddie had been leaning over the images, readjusting them. His arm stretches around the back of him, and his hand grasps the back of the chair on the other side of Eddie, "Which ones your favourite?" He asks quietly, right next to Eddie's ear. He doesn't think he's ever felt more uncomfortable than right now.
The truth is, none of them anymore. The whole memory is tainted, but he plays the game, "The one with the curtain call." He says quickly, "Excuse me." He says politely with a smile and tries to wiggle out of his situation, but Harrington's arm is firmly still in place. He could just vomit.
"You like my friend Heidi?" Harrington whispers as the others talk amongst themselves for a little while.
Eddie knows what he's getting at and honestly wouldn't have thought someone as arrogant as Harrington to be into that, but he plays dumb, "She seems like a lovely lady."
Harrington lets out a small, quiet laugh, "Mmhmmm, she is. She's pretty friendly, too, as are her girlfriends. There are so many of them. You'd be helping me tonight if you got to know them." He adds, bumping his hip against Eddie's.
"Yeah, they all seem nice." Eddie agrees, hoping it will end this stupid conversation.
His bloodshot, dilated pupil eyes lock onto Eddie's as he tries to escape, "Point your favourite out to me, Eddie." 
His stomach churns as the command catches him off guard, "What?" He exclaims a little more loudly than he means to, and soon, all eyes are back on him.
Harrington's grin widens, "The photograph, Eddie."
He overly enunciates his name. Eddie swallows hard and obliges, pointing it out. Harrington leans over him to get a look, pressing his arm into Eddie's back. He hums, shifts a little and then locks his gaze with Eddie again, "Are you gay?" He asks bluntly, and the table erupts with laughter. The only people not laughing are Eddie and Harrington, though he is wearing a smile, and Eddie is wearing several shades of natural blush.
Eddie was out and proud. These days, it wasn't anything to hide, but something about this interaction made him want to crawl into a hole and disappear forever.
Heidi thumps Harrington's arm, "Don't be a dick, babe. You can't just out people. It's very un-pc! Leave him alone." She reprimands him, and he laughs mischievously, wrapping her back into his arms and finally tears his eyes from Eddie's.
Today, he'd arrived here, loathing Harrington. Now, his insides were a boiling cesspool of putrid hatred for him. He's beginning to question if this is worth a million dollars. He thinks about Marney. He reminds himself he wouldn't be able to make this amount of money in his lifetime probably. He could upgrade his kit, buy a house, buy Wayne a house, support local charities, shit, and start his own charity project. He takes a very subtle deep breath by bowing his head and letting his hair hang in front of his face, collecting himself quickly. Then, he straightens up and beams at them all, "Well, that isn't really relevant to either of our projects, so forgive me for not answering." 
All eyes return to Harrington, and he huffs out a laugh and looks around the table, "It was only a question. But you know what, maybe it's not that. Maybe he just thinks you girls are a bunch of sluts, and Mr Munson here has much higher standards."
"I can assure you, it's not that," Eddie says, picking up the photos and filing them away.
"Oh, you don't mind a slut then?" Harrington laughs loudly, and the people around the table join him. And that is the last straw. 
What was this guy's problem? He'd been begging Eddie to work with him again for years, and when he said yes, he paid nine times as much to get him here the next day. Had he simply done that to get Eddie back for saying no? Had he paid nine hundred grand to get Eddie in a room to belittle him in front of others? Is that the level of Ego he was dealing with here? Though fuming with annoyance, Eddie remembers to keep it civil. Otherwise, they'd look at him as the bad guy.
"It's my job to capture people and moments, maybe tell their story, but judge them? No." Eddie shuts his file and feels the jovial atmosphere disappear with its contents. He looks up and around the table. Everyone is looking at Harrington again. The smile has wiped from his face, and his eyes are cast down slightly, "There's plenty of people out there already eager to do that. I don't need to add to their number." Harrington's eyes flick back up to his for a moment but look away again, and Eddie feels the power has shifted. He can't resist picking up the metaphorical boxing gloves Wheeler left behind and taking a few jabs himself. "When someone with enough influence judges someone loudly enough. It's easy for others to gather their pitchforks en masse, ready to raze everything to the ground."
He collects his things and sees Harrington returning to being a little hunched over the table. He waves the others out with a flick of his hand. Eddie goes to follow them, but this time, Harrington stops him himself. He doesn't look Eddie in the eyes, doesn't touch him directly, just pulls on the bag strap to stop him, "I get carried away sometimes." He mutters out. Eddie's insides are still swimming with anger, but he can hear and see the unspoken apology. 
That might have been one of the three authentic interactions between them today. One when he asked if Eddie had to do this. Two, when he asked if Eddie was gay, and now this. The rest of it was very much a show of sorts, for whom Eddie wasn't certain. Whilst the first two had only thrown gasoline on the fire, that was his hatred for this guy. That last one was a handful of sand.
He puts it down to having behavioural problems himself as a kid. Getting things wrong and not often getting a chance to make up for them. Then, being judged and labelled over it. That is probably why he hated this Harrington situation so much. His dad wouldn't console him when he got duped by people time and time again because he'd give them room to apologise. His dad had said he was a pushover or a doormat, but Wayne said his kindness wasn't a weakness. He just needed to be more savvy about how much he let those people back in.
"See you in two weeks, Mr Harrington," Eddie says, an unspoken iota of forgiveness.
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Songs that inspired this chapter:
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mrs-gucci · 2 years
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𝐦𝐲 𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐨𝐩𝐞𝐧
if anyone has any requests they’d like to submit, I’d love to have some fresh ideas in my inbox :)
at this time, I’m only accepting requests for Eddie Munson!!
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here’s the link to my EDDIE MASTERLIST, in case you’d like a little sampling of my work before you request something. also, please take a peek at my REQUESTS FAQ post before popping anything in my inbox.
link to my INBOX for anyone that wants to submit!
thanks, y’all <3
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cinemastyles-blog · 9 months
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Say That Again, Baby.
Summary: a Wattpad/tumblr request - “Hili! I was wondering if you can write a one shot that is basically a size kink type of chapter. Can it be where the girl just keeps telling him he's huge and something like that? so it would be both dom and sub harry”
Warnings: SMUT18+, strong language, size kink, praising, blowjob, oral (m), unprotected sex, biting, hair pulling, choking, porn-like phrases, filth from both y/n and Harry
Masterlist
Harry just won two Grammy’s.
You’re at the after party with him, spending the night celebrating his victories.
“Harry.” Anthony says holding his camera up, “show off that Grammy.”
Harry chuckles and brings his leg up, pointing to the Grammy that’s embroidered onto his Gucci Gazelle.
“Love ya, Pham.” Harry was a bit drunk.
Okay. A lot drunk.
“Harry, come here. They want more pics.” Anthony motions for Harry to come over. Harry lays a hand on your leg, “S’cuse me, babe.”
You have to admit, you were kinda sorta very drunk, too.
Not as wasted as Harry, though.
But, you knew that you were drunk because you could jump his bones right here in this booth in front of everyone not even think twice about it.
“Mhm.” You hum lowly as your eyes glance down from his eyes to his hand, “Course.” You look up at him, and before you scoot out of the booth to let him out, he gives your thighs a squeeze and winks at you.
You sigh and shake your head with a smirk as you get up. He lays his hand on your back and presses his lips to your forehead.
“I love you.” He whispers quietly.
“I love you, Harry.”
——
You went to go get another drink and when you came back, you noticed Harry kneeled down against the wall with his hand on his forehead.
You press your lips together and tilt your head. Walking over, “Hey.” You whisper quietly as you get on your knees in front of him, “You okay?”
He slowly lifts his head and smiles at you.
His eyes are watery and you can tell what happened bothers him, especially with him being drunk.
You smile and lay a hand on his cheek, “You deserve everything, Harry. The awards. The fans. The albums.” You move in closer and rest your forehead against his, “Fuck what that guy yelled, you still won album of the year and you know what else?”
You lean back and watch as he closes his eyes, nuzzling his cheek into your hand before pressing his lips to it, “What else, darling?”
You tilt your head slightly, “I’m going to make sure you have the best night of your life when we get home. Take your mind off everything for a while.”
His eye brow twitches and he smirks, “Yeah?”
“Oh yes.” You smile and press both hands to his cheeks, “I know it’s very hard to let what he said go, but if you need anything. I’m here for.” You press your lips to his, “Always.”
He smiles and bites his lip as he looks at you, “I could use something, but I don’t want to embarrass everyone here with how loud you get.”
You scoff and gently push him back as you smirk, “tables have turned Mr. Styles.”
“Oh have they?” He tilts his head and stands up, bringing you with him as he does.
“They certainly have.”
——
You guys are a giggling mess as you fall out of the car.
“Thank you!” You and Harry both yell to the driver as you practically run to the door of the house that you share with him.
“Fuck.” Harry laughs, “I can’t get.. oh, had it upside down.”
You laugh and push the door open, pulling him in with you, “You’ve been hanging out with me too much. I’m rubbing off on you.”
He kicks the door closed behind him and walks over to you. He grabs your face and smashes his lips onto yours.
You moan slightly as he runs his hands thought your hair, pulling your hair just so ever slightly as he does.
“I haven’t been spending enough time with you and I have something you can rub.” He smirks and laughs slightly as his comment.
You shake your head and smile, “I love you.”
“I love you, babe. Now.” He lifts you up and starts to walk towards the steps but you stop him, “Wait, no, baby. The chair.”
You point to the chair that just so happens to be Harry’s favorite seat in the house.
“Okay.” He smirks and walks over, sitting down with you still on his lap, dress still on and all, “Now show me just how exactly the tables have turned.”
You lean in, kissing from his lips to his neck. You kiss down and back up, nipping at his ear while you whisper, “Because I have partial control tonight.”
“Partial?” He raises an eyebrow.
“Yeah, just until I can’t take it anymore and need your cock buried inside of me.” You smirk and stand up before he can grab you.
“Take your clothes off, please.” You smile and start to slowly pull your dress down over your shoulders.
His eyes are fixated on seeing the skin that’s been covered all night.
His hands move to take his jacket off. He leans forward, slipping off his white tank and tossing it on top of his jacket that’s in a pile on the floor.
He starts to undo his pants and his eyes watch as the dress falls into a pool at your feet. His eyes move up your legs and scan over every inch of your naked body.
“Fuck.” He mutters as he slides his pants and boxers down his thighs. He kicks them off and rests his arms on the arm rests.
You’re in awe of him just sitting there looking at you. His hard cock leaking.
Aching to be touched, too.
You walk over and get on your knees between his legs, “You have such a nice cock, daddy.”
You glance up at him as you gently take it in your hand and his eyebrow twitches and he bites his lip as he picks up that you’re about to praise his cock.
A groan leaves his lips as you start stroking his cock.
You lean in and trace the vein of the underside of it. He sucks in air and clenches his jaw, “Shit.” He groans through gritted teeth.
You bite your lip as you ogle his cock, “You’re so big, fuck daddy. I can’t wait until you’re stretching my pussy out again.”
You lean in, pressing your lips to the tip before you part them, slowly welcoming his cock between them.
He lets out a breathy moan and he grips the chair arms, “Oh, bloody hell.”
He bucks his hips slightly and you continue to bob your head, working on taking him in fully.
You gag around him and close your eyes, trying to control your breathing.
You take a deep breathe and slowly work him into your throat. Harry absolutely loves hearing you gag on his cock because he knows it’s the only cock you’ll ever want.
He lays a hand on the back of your head, holding it there for a couple seconds. You pull off with a gasp, gripping his thighs as you giggle slightly, “Fuck, daddy. Your cock is so big, I could barely breathe.”
You smile up at him as your bare chest heaves up and down quickly. He shakes his head and runs his hands over his face, “Shit, You almost had me there, baby.”
You push your panties down your thighs and stand up. You step out of them and crawl on to Harry’s lap. Your lips immediately find his and you make out.
His hands slide up and down your body a few times before his hands slide to your ass. He squeezes and pulls them apart, “You want to sit on my cock, sweetheart?”
You whimper and nod, “Yes, daddy. I want to sit on your big cock.”
“Fuck. Say that again, baby.” He grabs your hips and sits up to close the space between you.
You lean forward and brush your lips against his, “Yes daddy. I want to sit on your big cock.”
He reaches down and holds his cock steady as he slowly pushes the tip of it inside of you.
You gasp and dig your nails into his shoulder, “Fuck. Fuck, yes. More daddy please.” You moan as he fulfills your request, “Fuckfuck.”
You let out a loud moan and gasp as he pushes your hips the rest of the way down, “I love your cock inside of me.” You moan out quickly as you clench around him.
“Fuck. You’re so fucking tight.” He moans as he watches you position yourself. You place your feet on his outer thighs and grip the arms of the chair.
You lean back whispering as you drag your hand down his chest, “You are so fucking sexy.”
You start to move your hips and you can’t help but moan, “Fuck, stretching me so good, daddy.”
He watches as your pussy swallows his cock whole each time you slide back down, “you’re so fucking sexy.”
He groans as he squeezes your thighs, “You like my cock baby?”
“Mm, daddy. I love your cock.” You moan and clench around him, “So close already.”
He hums and takes his hands off of you, resting one on the arm rest and presses the other to your clit, “Go on then, sweetheart.”
You moan loudly as Harry’s fingers out just the right amount of pressure on your clit as he circles it.
“Fuck, yes daddy, yes yes.” You let out a long moan as your squeeze his cock with your pussy.
“Fuck.” He groans as he digs his fingers into your hip harder.
You push your hips all the way down on him and moan as you slowly move your hips, fucking yourself on his cock until your high comes to an end.
“Mm I like to cum on your cock, daddy.” You lean in and kiss him. He grips your hips with his hands and pulls you closer.
Your tongues move against one another and you moan in his mouth.
He leans back and looks at you, “Bend over on this chair f’me.”
He taps your hips with his fingers, indicating he wants you to get up. You let out a sigh and smirk, “Fine.”
He winks and smiles at you, “Good girl.”
You bite your lip as your heart skips a beat at his words.
He knows you absolutely love to be praised.
“Say that again, baby.” You smirk slightly and watch as he gets up. He pulls you into his body and looks down at you.
He gently grips your chin and tilts your head up, “Good girl.” He whispers quietly as he stares into your eyes with a smirk plastered on his lips.
You take a shaky breath and smile, turning to put your knees on the chair.
He gives your ass a smack and you jump slightly. You look at him over your shoulder, “hey!”
He chuckles and rubs both of your ass cheeks, “M’sorry.”
You smile, “It’s okay, now fuck me with the big cock daddy.”
You wiggle your hips at him and rock back, “Please.”
A smirk spreads across his face as he slowly slides his hands down, running his fingers across your soaked folds.
“Mm.” He hums lowly, “Why should I do that?”
You close your eyes, frustrated that he’s taking over.
“Because it’ll feel so good, baby.” You open your eyes and look back at him, “Please daddy?”
You move your hips back move and he slips two fingers inside of you, letting them rest for a moment. You let out a whine, “I love you fingers, but I want that cock daddy.”
He chuckles and spreads his fingers as he slowly starts to push his cock in. You gasp at the feeling and your eyes roll back and close.
“Fuck, yes daddy give me that big fucking cock.” You push your hips back and lean down onto the back of the chair, “Fuck, fuck.”
You moan and dig your nails into the cushion, “Shit, yes yes oh fuck!”
He spreads his fingers a little bit more as he pushes his cock the rest of the way into you.
“Fuck, daddy.” You moan out, “your big cock stretches me so good.”
“Fuck.” He groans before slapping your other ass cheek, “you’re such a dirty little whore, aren’t you?”
“For you.” You look back at him and bite your lip.
He watches you as he starts to thrust, slow at first but then quickly builds up into a punishing pace.
Harry grabs your arm, pinning it down onto the lower part of your back, moaning as he digs his grip on your arm tightens., “Fuck. You feel fucking incredible.”
His other hand smacks your ass cheek again and he rubs over the red skin.
You clench around him, “so fucking big.” You whine out, “Yes yes. Fuck me, daddy. Yes yes.”
He pounds into you for a little longer before slowing his pace, “You’re gonna make me cum soon, babe. Where ya want it?”
“In my pussy.” You smirk slightly and rock back onto him, “Please daddy.”
He slides his hand up your back and around to your neck, “Say it again, the correct way.”
He squeezes slowly as you start to speak, “Daddy, I want you to cum in my pussy.”
“There ya go, love.” He starts to thrust, still keeping grip of your neck and squeezing.
Your moans are muffled from his choking you, “Fuck.” You whimper out as you squeeze his cock with your pussy, “Please please. Your cock is so fucking good.”
Harry loosens his grip and slides his hand back to your hips. He pulls your hips back to meet his and you can feel his cock twitch.
“Fuck.” He gasps and pushes his cock all the way in, “Snuck up on me.” He chuckles slightly and groans.
You moan as you feel yourself be engulfed by nothing but pleasure.
You both rest there for a few moments, breathing heavy and slightly sweaty.
“Shower?” Harry asks, breaking the silence.
“Please.” You agree.
He pulls out and you turn around and sit down. He holds his hand out and you take it, rising to your feet.
He presses his lips on your temple and sighs, “Race ya!” He pushes away from your and be lines for the steps.
“He-wa-wha- no-“ you stutter and jump slightly, “Not fair!” You yell as you run up the steps after him. He turns around at the top and laughs, “Let them fly free, baby.”
You laugh as his remark about your arms holding your boobs to your chest, “You would like that, wouldn’t you?” You ask stepping towards him when you reach the top.
“Very much so.” He smirks and you lean in to kiss him but push away from him, “Race ya!”
You make it to the bathroom first and hop in the shower, “Loser!”
He walks around the corner and looks at you, “Alright. I see how it is.” He walk over to you and pins you to the shower wall.
“You going to show me just how it is, huh?”
He smirks and nods, “Damn right.”
——
Thank you for being patient! I hope you like this!
Likes and reblogs are appreciated <3
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safarigirlsp · 2 years
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✨🍁🐈‍⬛🎃💛✨ Halloween Schedule and Request Info ✨🍁🐈‍⬛🎃💛✨
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✨🍁🐈‍⬛🎃💛✨ It’s the Most Wonderful Time of the Year! ✨🍁🐈‍⬛🎃💛✨
REQUESTS OPEN FOR HALLOWEEN
This is my favorite time of the year! And as far as I’m concerned, Halloween runs from September 1 - November 15, which then becomes Winter and Christmas through December 31! For the next two months, it’s full steam ahead for anything and everything related to Autumn and Halloween!
For the week of Halloween, October 24 - October 31, I’m going to be posting a big daily oneshot that will range in size from 5k to 25k! Look for a mix of horror, humor, romance, and adventure!
It’s possible there be other writing throughout this time too.
Halloween always results in some of my favorite AUs! Exorcist Jacques, Sleepy Hollow Kylo, Werewolf Flip, Magician Kylo, Vampire Jacques, and Black Knight Kylo!
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Here is what’s on the menu for the week of Halloween, October 24 - October 31:
Monster Monday - Zombies, Cryptids, Mummies, Dragons, Killer Rabbits, and any Monsters not covered by another category. ☠️🎃🧟‍♂️
Transfusion Tuesday - Vampires! 🌙🧛🏻🌙
Werewolf Wednesday - Werewolves! 🌕🐺🌕
†hursday - Demons, Devils, Possession, Exorcists, Occultism, and any related themes. 🔥😈🔥
Phantasm Friday - Ghosts, Ghouls, Specters, Hauntings, and everything else that goes bump in the night. 👻🪦☠️
I Put A Spell On You Saturday - Witches, Magicians, Spells, Curses, and anything similar ✨🐈‍⬛✨
Sunday, Bloody Sunday - Murder, Mayhem, Slashers and Serial Killers. 🪓☣️🔪
My Official Lineup for the week will be announced October 1.
For big oneshots, I’m only writing for Jacques, Flip, and Kylo. I am open to ideas for Clyde and Henry that would be shorter.
Some AUs that I’m partial to that will make an appearance this year in some fashion are Vampires, Witches, Devils, Gunfighters, and vengeful Murderers if anyone enjoys those concepts too…
Please send me requests, ideas, thoughts, HCs, anything you like. I’ll pick my favorites or, very likely, a combination of a few, and I’ll write a oneshot. Feel free to send in multiple ideas or requests! The more ideas to choose from, the better! All AU concepts, time periods, etc are welcome. Read my Pinned Post & Masterlist for things I like if you want a leg up on getting a request written, and for things I won’t write. For those of you who are newer here, I don’t have much interest in requests like ‘a romantic everything with Kylo,’ and I’m looking for concepts I can turn into longer full stories.
Here is a Prompt Masterlist
Here is a Halloween Fic Masterlist
Here are my Halloween fics from last year
Please follow @kyloremus here and on Twitter bc she is going to be posting 31 days of Halloween edits!
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Tagging some interest parties and accomplices!
@in-silks-and-flesh-and-leather @mrs-gucci @gabesprincess @babbushka @young-frankenstein @iamburdened @mrs-zimmerman @reborn-rekall @queeniebee @lumberjack00fantasies @maybe-your-left @rynwritesstuff @candycanes19 @caillea @cas-backwards-tie @mythrielofsolitude @ghoulian13 @icarusinthesea @darkhairedmenrule @reyloaddict55 @fizzywoohoo @heartlight-starlight @richbrittstein @woken-ariadne @clydesfavoritegirl @emi11ie @bensolodyad @danidanisara @thepalaceofmelanie @celiholland @durangoninetyfive @zillymaz @gotham-city-uber-driver @the-fangirl-diaries @when-witches-go-riding
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glassbxttless · 11 months
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Thank you for celebrating 1000 followers and my return from Hiatus with me! Although it took some weeks to finish, the requests that were sent in were amazing! And now that (almost) everything has been posted, you can find all of the content from this event linked below! **This will be updated when the final two fics are posted!**
Smut is indicated with * — My fics are STRICTLY 18+
Combined Word Count: 15.7k+
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Seashells (Commander Mills x f!Reader)
-> 1.9k+ ;; Mills is home from a mission and he can’t take another night without you promising to be his one.
Moon Magic (Commander Mills x f!Reader)*
-> 1.8k+ ;; You’ve missed Mills entirely too much and find yourselves relaxing in your favorite place, just past those old trees.
Little Poppet (Commander Mills x f!Reader)
-> 1.3k+ ;; Mills really loves being a dad, and tonight he’s so tired but he soaks up every single second.
Dragon’s Lair (Eddie Munson x f!Reader)*
-> 2.0k+ ;; After a private conversation with Eddie, you find yourself waiting for anything in his favorite arcade.
The Tide (Matt Organa-Solo x f!Reader)
-> 1.7k+ ;; You finally get to meet Matt’s mom, as his girlfriend and not just a girl in his circle.
Mrs. Infamous (Matt Solo x f!Reader)*
-> 0.0k ;; Matt catches you in a lie, so of course you have to learn your lesson.
Fluent with a Zipper (Steve Harrington x f!Reader)*
-> 3.6k+ ;; Steve’s got a crush and he might finally get to act on it.
Chapters (Paterson x pregnant!Reader)*
-> 2.0k+ ;; You delight Paterson with some very shocking news not too long after the birth of your first child.
That Girl (Maurizio Gucci x Chanel!Daughter)
-> 0.0k ;; It’s 1970, you’re the granddaughter of Coco Chanel— and you meet the grandson of the great, Guccio Gucci, Maurizio, by fate while you’re studying for an exam.
Her Love is my Religion (Maurizio Gucci x f!Reader)
-> 1.0k+ ;; Even after four years of marriage, Maurizio still loves you like it’s Day One.
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persefolli · 2 years
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𝙼.𝙸.𝙻.𝙵
𝙿𝚊𝚒𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐: 𝙰𝚛𝚖𝚒𝚗 𝚡 𝙵𝚎𝚖 𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛
𝚆𝚌: 𝟻𝚔
𝚆𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜: 𝙽𝚂𝙵𝚆!!! 𝚂𝚖𝚞𝚝, 𝙰𝚐𝚎-𝙶𝚊𝚙
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---
Monday 9:45 AM
Marco: Armin
Marco: Armin get up!!!
Marco: ARMIN!!!
Armin: It's too early for this
Marco: Dress nicely and come over now!
Armin: Marco I don't feel like it
Marco: My dad has a new girlfriend
Armin: On my way
---
Armin groaned and hopped out of bed, looking out of his window at the large backyard filled with nicely cut topiaries and ponds. After a few moments of his consciousness settling in, he walked over to his large walk-in closet and decided to put on a silk button up with dress pants. And for the sake of Marco's request, he unbuttoned the two top buttons on his shirt and threw on a Coach belt. 
"Mr. Arlert are you ready for your breakfast?" He heard one of the maids call from outside of his room door. "Tell father I won't be joining this morning. I'm going over to the Bodt's today."
"Yes sir."
Armin walked over to his door and opened it up to his grand staircase. Yes, his family was rich, richer than rich, filthy rich, and it was all he ever knew. He currently was attending a private college that wasn't so far from home with his best friend Marco.
They have been inseparable since birth, even their parents went back to elementary school. They lived in a beautiful gated community that only the elite stayed in, and on occasion you could see the average A list celebrity walking their dog.
The thing the two boys had in common, was that they stayed humble. No matter how much they had or how much they made, they never tended to verbally brag. But their clothes and latest tech spoke for them.
Armin found himself climbing into a golf cart, and riding at least a few blocks down to Marco's place. They didn't have "blocks" in this gated community but the properties were so large it was hard to get anywhere by foot.
"Armin my brother!" He saw Marco standing in front of his house with open arms. He wore a similar outfit to Armin, but his shirt wasn't tucked in and he wore Gucci instead of Coach. Armin stepped out of the golf cart and was immediately met with Marco's arm around his neck. "Listen man, she's....a total hottie-"
"This is your stepmother we're talking about."
"That doesn't matter! She's bougie, smells like honey and vanilla, man her hugs are so warm."
Armin kept nodding as Marco whispered in his ear all about the new woman who had stepped foot into their lives. This came soon after the divorce with Marco's mother, who had an affair with an italian businessman a few years back. But clearly his father was able to rebound from that.
"Warning you now, they stare back."
"What?"
As soon as they got into the foyer they saw a girl, she was tanned and had freckles that littered her face, she seems a bit younger than Marco. She had a smug look on her face and she stuck her tongue out at Marco. "This is your boyfriend?"
"Hell no, this is my best friend."
"So your boyfriend."
"YMIR! Leave Marco alone." A woman called from up the stairs. "Fine." She rolled her eyes and walked out the side door towards the living room.
Armin looked up and widened his eyes at the sight. Like Marco described, it was a woman with full hips, love handles that fell outside of the tight juicy couture sweatsuit she had on. Her lips were plumped perfectly and that new boob job was definitely adding on to her glow.
"Excuse my little peach. I'm Y/N." You walked down the steps and reached your hand out to Armin. He was too focused on your breasts to notice the small yorkie you had in your left arm. But he quickly cleared his throat and shook your hand. "I'm Armin, next door neighbor, Marco's best friend."
You smiled and nodded, not glazing over the fact that he was staring at your cleavage. "Well, you boys have fun now, if you need anything i'll be in your fathers office." You jumped and skipped down the hallway towards Mr. Bodt's office. "Man if she wasn't my dad's girlfriend."
"You're a sick man Marco."
The two of them walked up the stairs towards Marco's room. But Armin couldn't stop thinking about that interaction with you. You looked him in the eyes, and he could've sworn he saw a glint of lust in your eyes. Or maybe that was his dick talking.
"You're so sexually deprived, a woman's touch gave you a hard on. Embarrassing." Marco groaned. Armin gasped and looked down at his tightened pants. He placed one hand down to cover it and his other hand smacked Marco's shoulder. "I woke up with it!"
"Armin you're a good man , but not a good liar."
Armin huffed knowing that Marco was right. He wasn't the one to have lots of girls that wanted him. At least not genuinely. But seeing a woman like that, around him, an authoritative figure, it intrigued him.
Before the two made it to the room Armin paused and turned on his heels. "I need a glass of water." Marco paused. "Now you're making it obvious, we all know you only drink Fiji water."
"No seriously, I'm going to faint." Armin groaned and placed his hand on his face. Marco waved him off, walking towards his room. "And bring me one too."
Armin was surprised that his decoy worked. He was a good liar, in a way. On the way to the kitchen downstairs he had to pass by the office, and he hoped he could catch a glimpse of you.  But the door was closed, and a do not disturb sign was placed on the handle. He slowed down, not as eager anymore. But there was no denying what was going on behind that door. He could hear Mr. Bodt's moans muffled from behind  the door.
Oh to be Mr. Bodt.
In a span of minutes he had forgotten that you were a grown woman that was dating a man who was considered a second father to him. He held on tightly to the two water bottles in the kitchen. He was jealous. 
---
Armin started to come as often as he could without making it obvious to anyone in the household that he was  coming solely to see you.
He had also invested in making a "spam account" to stalk your socials, retracting his ideals of having no social media. Armin paid attention to the name brands you liked, the material of your clothing, and what places you visited.
He wanted to pull a secret admirer stunt, the only thing stopping him was money, and that anyone could uncover the person behind the packages. And that is why Armin staged the set up through an influx of people. 
He walked up the steps to the home but before he could ring the doorbell Marco opened the door. "Are you ready to go?" He said referring to the dinner they had to go to with their fathers.
Every year the two families got together to have dinner, no matter what. So they expected to see their mothers and new husbands. "This is going to be a shit show." Armin said. "Of course. My mom is a bitter ass bitch, no way she's gonna keep it cordial with Y/N and my father."
The two boys walked out the door to the black SUV when Marco paused at the sudden arrival of the mailman. The mailman hopped out of the truck and walked up with two packages. "Delivery for Y/N L/N and....Ymir L/N."
Marco held out his arms and nearly fell holding the two packages. "What the hell did they order?" He strained out. Armin shrugged, internally laughing at the arrival of the packages. He did have to go overboard and get something for Ymir too, but it was worth getting that head start. This would be his first gift of many to come. 
"Just set it down now and let's go, I refuse to be late because you want to be nosy." Armin stepped into the SUV. Marco dropped the packages and hopped into the SUV after Armin.
Thank the gods for gapped seats and blackout windows. Armin kept his cell phone brightness low so no one could see the contents of his phone in the reflection of the window. A notification popped up letting him know that you had just posted, and he wasted no time in clicking on that notification and viewing the photo. It was a picture of your cleavage, a sneak peek of the dress you were wearing tonight. You had one hand on your boob flaunting the golden bangles and rings you had on your hand. He could nearly feel your fresh aura from through the phone. He was now excited to get to the venue.
The spot was a rented out seafood place that was right off the docks and it sat right over the coastline. As the two boys joked and laughed together walking down the dock they ran into Marco's mother and her new husband. The same man she had an affair with years prior. Marco's smile dropped and he rolled his eyes, attempting to walk past his mother. "Excuse me? You want to act like you don't know me now?"
"Hi."
His mother scoffed and clutched onto her husband tighter. "What do you think it'll be this time, a jealous outburst or leaving the place drunk." She said referring to a previous dinner that took place before Y/N came around. "I think he'll be on his best behavior, he has a guest i'm sure he's keen on impressing." Marco turned around and started walking into the restaurant while his mother shouted "Wait." As an attempt to stop him from going in.
"Damn we can't even walk into the restaurant without something happening." Marco shook his head. They made out onto the seaside patio that overlooked the wet rocks and the harsh waves. It was a beautiful sight. What was even more beautiful was you. Armin nearly lost his breath seeing you facing the building, with your backdrop being the pink and orange sunset. It complemented your pink, orange and yellow deep plunge V neck dress. You were busy tapping on your phone with those long white nails of yours. Your hair was in a super long wavy ponytail, which indicated that you had just gotten your hair done not too long ago. But short or long hair looked great on you. And Armin wanted to  see it all.
"Boy! Come say hi to your mother."
Armin looked over to see his own mom smiling gleefully. He smiled back and nearly crashed into her arms. "I missed you so much."
"I missed you too baby. How's college?"
Armin shrugged and shook his head. "The same old boring college you went to mom." She sighed and sat down, patting the seat next to her. Which also happened to be right across from you.
Then Marco sat next to Armin, and the two seats that sat alone at the other edges of the table were occupied by Marco's mother, and Marco's father on the opposite side. You sat close to Marco's father, then Ymir sat next to Marco's mother's husband.
Overall the seating of the place was messy. You finally sat your phone down and quietly snatched Ymir's phone from her hands. "Mommmm!" She whined out. "You're gonna be seen as disrespectful. Do this for me please?" You clasped your hands together and pleaded with Ymir as if she was a friend, and not your daughter. Marco's father cleared his throat and finally spoke up.  "Well, when you guys are ready you can order. Mrs. Arlert it's good seeing you again. How's Japan?"
"It's beautiful there, the children are eager to learn english, I just started to teach the adults though." She said. Armin's mother always worked overseas, and she rarely came home unless it was the annual dinner or if someone was on the brink of death. "But look at you! Your hair is growing out and my, don't think I didn't notice the two new additions," His mother said looking at Y/N and Ymir. "How did you two meet?"
"Well-" Both you and Mr. Bodt started, but after a few chuckles Mr. Bodt pointed to you and let you tell the story for yourself.
"I was working at Oceanside Pines, and Marcus wouldn't stop following me around on his little golf cart, no matter how many times he tried to play it off. But...he ended up being a sweet man and we just hit it off from there." You smiled completing the story.
"That's so sweet, and you look so young...what fillers do you use?" Marco's mother spoke up. Both Armin and Marco clenched their jaws and looked over at her. But you didn't let the comment get to you and you laughed it off with her. "I don't use filler, I just have great genes. I do have slight lip filler though." You confessed. That didn't matter at all to Armin, he still admired you amidst the procedures you had gotten done.
Armin could tell Marco's mother was feeling jealous, but that served her right for everything she put everyone through. The waiter came by and pulled out a notepad. Mr. Bodt pointed to you and the waiter immediately came and kneeled between you and Ymir. "I'll have the crab legs and crawfish." Ymir ordered.
"I'll have the shrimp alfredo, and how good is the Merlot?"
"We get shipments straight from the vineyards of France."
"Please get me a glass of that....a big one please." You enunciated causing the waiter to laugh a little. Armin took that mental note, now knowing the beverage that you often flaunted on your instagram stories. "So is your daughter enrolled in any institutions nearby?" Marco's mother spoke up. "I currently attend highschool in West Hollywood, the same one I went to before we moved."
"That's so far, you must get up early every morning. But..isn't it mainly public schools over there?"
Ymir cocked her eyebrow and nodded. "Well, yeah. Is that a problem?" Marco's mother widened her eyes and shook her head. "Of course not! I was just curious, since you know, the whole change in lifestyle." 
Ymir chuckled. "The only thing that changed is my location and my mothers happiness." Ymir was a bright girl. Marco and Armin had gotten accustomed to her blunt nature pretty fast, but that also meant she could practically smell when someone was being shady, and Marco's mom was not concealing her pettiness. "Well it seems like everyone is doing so well," She looked around the table. "What a shame you couldn't get your act together when we were still married."
"Mom." Marco said sternly. "Don't start."
"What? I'm just saying." She chuckled and looked over at you. The waiter came at the perfect time, bringing out everyone's food and drinks so the conversation could shift. Armin watched you take small sips from your wine and push stray strands of hair behind your ear. He felt bad for you, even more so angry that Mr. Bodt put you in this predicament. He could tell you were uncomfortable, and he wanted nothing more to just have you and him enjoy the dinner. 
"Are you still doing okay in your finance class?" You spoke up. Armin looked up from his plate and realized you were talking to him. He quickly cleared his throat and nodded. "Yes, way better." He looked at his mother to explain. "I fell behind, because I got distracted, but i'm back on top again."
"Is it a girl?" Armin's mother smiled and wiggled her brows. Now all eyes were on him and he stammered, looking back towards you. "No! No girls in my life right now."
Ymir started laughing and wiped at her eyes. "A sad life you're living buddy."
"Do YOU have a boyfriend? Exactly, leave my bro alone." Marco playfully got onto Ymir. "No I don't, but I have been trailing this blondie in this private school not too far from the house." She stuck her tongue out at Marco. "Reisses daughter?!" Marcus said in surprise. "I didn't know she- Well," He cleared his throat. 
You started chuckling as you took another drink of wine. "All jokes aside though, whatever woman you have your eyes on should be lucky to have a guy like you pursue her." Marco nodded and slapped Armin's back a few times. "Seriously, you're a good guy, any girl would be lucky to have you."
Armin smiled and nodded, taking in the compliments from almost everyone at the table. He looked at you with glossy eyes and you held up your glass as if you were cheering towards him. He had never wanted you more.
---
Friday 10:45 PM
Armin: Marco I think I left my purple suit at your house, I need it for my dad's convention tomorrow.
Marco: I'm not home, me and dad just left for the weekend, you have the keys
Armin: I just didn't want to go in your house without anyone there
Marco: Y/N or Ymir should be there, but either way you shouldn't be afraid to go there, that's literally your second home.
Armin: Yeah whatever, talk to you later
---
It had been two weeks since Armin had been over to Marco's place. He needed to cool down after the dinner, and also tone down on coming to see you. He didn't hold back from sending gifts though. He got notifications almost every other day about the package being delivered.
He knew you would probably be meeting up with Mr. Bodt, so he threw on a T- Shirt, sweatpants, and slides and walked out into the night. Since it was so late he had to drive the golf cart himself to the home. 
It seemed that everyone was gone or asleep since the windows were dark. And the fountains were turned to a lower setting. Armin got off the cart and walked up to the home, taking the keys from his pocket and unlocking the door. And he almost jumped out of his skin seeing a dark figure on the staircase.
"Oh my gosh Armin!" You shouted. He could see your arms moving in a twisting motion. "I had my titties out and shit, what brings you here this late?"
Armin cleared his throat and reached for the light switch to turn on the foyer lights. You were standing there in fuzzy slides and a Versace robe that was clearly too big. But Armin was happy to see you wearing it. After all, he did buy it.
"I need to get my purple suit. I thought you would be with Marcus and Marco."
You scoffed and flared your nostrils. "I hate that business stuff. I don't know how to do math, so I hate it." Armin chuckled and shook his head. "Business isn't all math you know."
"Yeah but like, it's a lot of numbers so..." You shook your head and placed your hands in your armpits. "Join me for a quick drink."
"No i shouldn't-"
"NOOOOOO." You mocked back. "Come one. One drink won't hurt."
Armin sighed and started walking towards the kitchen behind you. He couldn't help but to look down at your behind as you walked. He wondered if you were naked underneath, or if it was just his imagination running wild.
He stood at the opposite side of the kitchen and watched you take out a bottle of wine and two glasses. "Is Ymir asleep? I'd expect her to be up this late."
"No, she's over that blonde girl's house. Her first sleepover ever."
Armin nodded and grabbed the cup you slid over to him. The two of you sat in silence as you drank. And the eye contact you two held was intense. "Thank you for the gifts."
Armin immediately started choking and set down the glass, covering his mouth as he coughed to get the wine out of his windpipes. "I didn't-"
"You have very distinctive handwriting, I recognized it after seeing your signature in one of Mr. Bodt's files." You tilted your head and smiled. "Well, I just wanted to give you a warm welcome so-"
"That letter seemed more than a warm welcome to me. It was sweet. Romantic." Armin sighed and dropped his head in defeat, he should've known adding the letter would've given him away, but he didn't know that you would notice so quickly.
"And I assume you're oceaneyesAR on instagram?"
"My gosh." Armin said tugging at the collar of his shirt. He definitely didn't expect you to be as smart as you were, in the most respectful manner possible. You took another sip of wine and laughed. "Don't be embarrassed, we all do a bit of stalking sometimes."
"Well when you put it like that...it is a little creepy, i'm sorry."
"No need to apologize." You smacked your lips and set the glass down. "You're always the first to like my posts, that's why I posted that picture the day of the dinner, to confirm my suspicions."
"Damn it, I'm sorry, It's totally inappropriate of me to-"
"It's fine. I like the attention."
Armin shook his head and picked up the wine glass, downing it in one gulp. "You understand I'm like...damn near 40 right. I'm old enough to be your mother."
Armin nodded. "That didn't matter to me though, you're a smart and beautiful woman, age shouldn't matter." You smiled and trailed your finger around the edge of the counter. "So does that mean you're done?"
"Done with what?"
"The gifts and stuff, I'd thought you'd let me show you the clothes you bought me."
Armin stammered and held his hand out to the Versace robe you had on. "That's all I need to see."
"Really?" You walked over to his side of the counter and hopped on the counter. "Not the bikini you got me? Or the lingerie?"
"I didn't send you-"
"You sent me a gift card and that's what I bought with them." You smiled. Armin had his mouth hanging wide open as he nodded. "Ohhhhh. Okay..."
"I only wore this for my comfort, I had no idea you were coming." You disclosed. "But, It wouldn't be fair to you if I wore this for Marcus so," You untied the fuzzy belt that went around your robe and pulled it aside, slightly showing off some black lingerie you had on. Armin started to choke on air again and looked up into your eyes to avoid looking down there.
"You get so flustered, when was the last time you've been this close to someone."
"Never." Armin blurted. "So you're a virgin?"
"No, but, it wasn't like this, it was just something quick so I could have a body."
"So i'll be your second." You leaned in to him, but was surprised to feel Armin yank you in by the waist and start kissing you all over. He kissed your cheek, your lips, your neck. All while kneading your hips in his hands.
"Armin-" You moaned in his ear as he continued kissing your neck. This set him off even more, and he picked you up off the counter and held you around his waist while kissing you still. He had to pause though in order to walk up the stairs, but that didn't stop you from attacking and nibbling on his ear.
"Guest room." You huffed out. He squeezed your ass tightly and walked down the hallway to the guest bedroom. As soon as you got into the room you hopped off of Armin and dropped the robe. Showing off the entire lingerie set you had bought. You heard the lock click and you crawled onto the bed.
Armin speed walked over to the bed and immediately crawled on top of you. Your back against his chest and your ass against his crotch. You gasped feeling him start to grind against you. He was breathing heavily in your ear so you reached one arm up to rub the back of his neck. 
"Need me to suck you off."
"N-no i'm hard enough."
You removed your hand from his neck and moved it towards your back, unclipping the bra and letting it fall off to the bed. Armin quickly moved back and pulled off your thong, along with his sweatpants. A moment of heavy breathing filled the room, until you moaned out feeling Armin entering you.
"Shit." He grunted. He then leaned back over you, placed one hand against the bed and the other found itself gripping your hip bone. Armin started thrusting into you, finding his rhythm in the midst of it, pulling you back into him with his one hand. You were leaned into the bed, moaning into the covers and gripping the sheets as his dick dragged along your walls.
"Armin- Go deeper." You encouraged him. But he stopped thrusting and pulled out. He pushed you to the side and crawled on top of you. You now lied on your back and he had a full view of your naked body. 
"Slow down, I'm not going anywhere."
He once again lined up with your hole and sunk into it again. "Fuck Armin!" His hand crept up to your boob and his lips found its way to your neck. Every inch of your body was slick with sweat. And the heat that radiated around your bodies became more intense. This wasn't pro fucking but it was something compared to Marcus. He didn't focus on your body like Armin did. Your climax wasn't even his top priority. So having your neck drenched from his saliva, and his dick ramming into you over and over made you ecastic. 
You dug your nails into his back as you got closer to your climax. "Mmmmm Armin right there." You grabbed his chin and guided him to your lips. And you gladly opened up  for him to shove his tongue in, messily making out with you. "Oh god! Oh god! Oh god!" Armin sat up quickly as he emptied himself in you and on your stomach. You could tell he was frustrated that he didn't pull out on time, but that was the least of your worries. 
"Clean me up." You heaved out. Your vision was hazy and your face was blushed pink from the heat. Armin nodded and got down on his knees, licking a long stripe from your hole to your clit. "Armin that's not- Keep going." You moaned out. You kept clenching, feeling his soft, short licks against your sensitive,  throbbing clit. You squealed and lifted your leg up, holding it with your arm so you wouldn't be squirming so much. But Armin pushed your leg back further, and leaned up devouring you even deeper. 
"So good," Armin muffled between your lips. He then moved his tongue down and started thrusting it in and out of your hole. You ran your hand up his undercut and gripped his hair tightly. Your eyes were fluttering and your stomach was dropping, all while your voice started to go hoarse from whining out so much. You bucked your hips into his warm mouth as he continued to eat you up. 
"Armin, I'm gonna come." You cried out. Armin tilted his head to the side so he was able to flick your clit faster and harder. You screamed out, as you arched and convulsing on the bed. 
Armin scrambled and hovered over you, pecking and kissing your lips, with a bit of nibbling in between. You moaned into him and grabbed the back of his neck as the two of you kissed deeper. He reached his hand down and started drawing soft long circles on your clit. "If you ever, need some pussy, don't hesitate to hit my line." You said between kisses.
Armin groaned and nodded, stopping to place his nose against yours. "I don't think I'll need anyone else's after this."
---
The two of you were able to keep the affair under wraps for a long while. You were still with Marcus, but you appealed to Armin without him noticing. You posted revealing photos on your instagram. Along with wearing his gifts onto the expensive trips you took. Everyone assumed you just went online shopping all the time. The two of you weren't able to have sex as much because Marcus was always around, but those weekends where they left for their father and son trips,  was when you two leaped at the opportunity. The only person who got a whiff of the affair was Ymir, but she didn't care because apparently this isn't the first time you were fucking around with two rich guys at the same time.
Nonetheless Armin didn't care, and you were happy with both men. 
And Armin didn't mind having a M.I.L.F on his arms.
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wellthatwasaletdown · 2 years
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I personally think they will remain professional at the premiere but only from the request of Harry. They will probably get photos with the cast, but not alone. Will both be wearing Gucci and maybe dressed by Harry Lambert but I can't see them smooching it up on the carpet. Olivia would probably want them to go full PDA but I don't think Harry will allow it. BUT if they do PDA at the event, then that's a different Harry from the one he presents aka Mr Privacy and he hasn't got a leg to stand on going forward.
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