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moonchildstyles · 8 months

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s'entendre

élan part five: y/n's first night out since the gala couldn't be that bad. right?

wordcount: 14.4k+

—————

(Y/N) couldn't help the frown that landed on her face as she looked in the mirror.

While her time in Paris had been the best she'd had in a really long while, it wasn't necessarily showing. At this point, she'd missed three of her facial appointments, her skin beginning to cry out from the lack of treatment. Her nails were barely hanging on, her acrylics grown out past the point of comfort. While her mental state was beginning to grow to a wholly positive place, the rest of her wasn't really catching up.

To top it off, her makeup wasn't cooperating either. Maybe she should really get a glam squad like Harry thought—at least then she would have a chance at being on time for events with a fully formed face.

With Emma joining them in Paris for the weekend, Francesca had insisted they go out and visit the nightlife. Of course, the one night she knew there would no doubt be photos caught of her just from the way her friends were still very active on their social medias, would be when her makeup cooperates the least.

Letting out a rumbling groan, (Y/N) was that close to calling off the night as another smudge of mascara blobbed on the crease of her eye.

Like always, Harry popped his head inside her bedroom, a pinch in his brows appearing as he took in the otherwise safe room.

"What's the matter, hm?" he asked, stepping inside her room. His reflection was made in the mirror, a clear view of his eyes stitched on her as she gazed at him through the glass.

It was a bit petulant, her reaction, with the way she puffed out her bottom lip with a pout. "My skin doesn't look good, and my makeup is only making it worse." Before she could even finish her statement, Harry was shaking his head, lips thinning as if he was bored with the fact she couldn't see facts right in front of her. "Harry, really," she argued against his silent protest, "My makeup looks so weird, right now."

(Y/N) watched as he settled in behind her, his arms crossing over his chest. His eyes flittered over the mirror, ever-observant.

"You're very funny sometimes, you know that?"

That only strengthened the frown on her lips and pinch in her brow. "I'm not being funny right now."

Dropping his gaze, his features facing the floor, Harry shook his head again. Down the slope of his nose, she swore she saw the edges of an easy smile. Looking up, only traces of amusement lingered on his lips.

"That's what you think," he countered cryptically, "Let me know when you're ready."

With that, Harry popped out of her room as quickly as he joined her. Sweeping her eyes away from the doors he exited through, returning to the mirror set in her vanity, she took in the planes of her face.

Though she could still see texture and bumps, pores and blemishes, it didn't bother her so terribly for a moment. Even the sight of her outgrown nails with dull edges didn't pick at her nerves.

If Harry didn't think she looked silly, even after he witnessed the glamour she preferred in New York, then maybe it wasn't so bad.

Even if he didn't say he thought she looked pretty, he thought her complaints against her features were outlandish enough to laugh at.

Suddenly, she didn't feel like agonizing over her skin anymore. She looked just fine, she decided.

—————

"Tell me again how you're going to tell me if you're uncomfortable or want to leave."

Outside the windows at her back, the underground of Paris whirled past, the train moving quickly under the treasures on the surface. The car was on the quiet side for the night, the hour still early before others drunk on champagne would be stumbling through.

Looking up at Harry through the fan of her false lashes, she repeated the same thing he told her at least five times before leaving the penthouse: "If I can, I need to come and tell you right away. But, if I'm in a situation where I can't reach you, I'm going to look at you and nod three times."

That slow blooming smile touched the corner of his mouth, sot lips curling as he gazed down at her. "Perfect," he praised her, adjusting his hands from where they were curled around the rail on either side of her, "Jus' remember that for me, please. You're going to have a really fun night, I jus' want you to be safe."

"Okay," (Y/N) nodded pliantly, gaze dropping down to the slope of his neck, "I—um—I also don't want to drink a lot tonight."

"Okay," Harry answered cautiously, voice trailing off.

"I know that's not a rule or anything, but I just... I don't want to get too deep tonight or anything," she explained in a small voice. While she wanted to unwind and play with her friends, she wasn't interested in stumbling around or blabbing things to anyone willing to sit and listen. She hoped she wouldn't have to worry about any photographers, but that didn't mean some couldn't pop up and take pictures of her with glazed eyes to feed into the narrative being spun back in New York.

Understanding, Harry nodded his head, the green of his eyes softening as he allowed his gaze to slide across her features. "Okay," he said, "We can do that. I'll keep an eye on you, but if y'change your mind, that's okay, too. Whatever is going to make you happy tonight."

Overhead the feminine French voice blinked over the intercom, arrival times appearing on the small screen at the head of the car. Harry looked over his shoulder taking in the printed times. As much as she teased him, he really was making progress in understanding the language, enough so that he was readily taking on the details of the night and keeping track of her.

Allowing her eyes to skip over the line of his profile. Dressed low-key as usual, dark colors to help him sink into the background, the softer tones of his skin were left to jump out. The brown shades of his hair made way for sun-dappled blonde strands to make their way through, highlighting the swirling curls. His eyes were bright and clear, framed by dark curling lashes. His skin was creamy and warm, a gentle tan from the summer sun being highlighted from the dotted freckles on his nose and the rosy flush on his cheeks.

"Thank you," she blurted.

"Hm?" Harry hummed, turning to face her once more, brows raised.

(Y/N) felt her skin heat as she processed her action. She hadn't meant to say anything.

"Thank you," she repeated, "For doing all of this. Helping."

"It's m'job," he answered simply.

That was a fact (Y/N) couldn't forget, that thin veil between being a constant barrier. "I know, but," she swallowed, feeling a bit silly now knowing that he noticed that line just as much as she did, "It's just a nice feeling—like you care, and all."

The contact he made with her gaze was easy and open, unwavering. "It's because I do care."

Just then, as convenient as ever, their arrival was announced. The train slowed to a stop, passengers readying to exit the car.

Letting go of the rail, Harry wrapped an arm around her shoulders. "C'mon," he murmured, keeping her close as he guided them into the fray of the moving passengers.

(Y/N) followed absently wherever he needed, her heels hitting the ground in quiet clicks. She wasn't sure what the squeeze in her lungs and stuttering in her chest meant, but feeling Harry at her side made it that much more prevalent.

—————

Looking ahead, (Y/N) spotted the line leading up to Francesca's club of choice for the night. Waiting patrons were roping around the sidewalk, chattering with cigarettes in hand, impatient at the wait time. Even from where they were, out on the sidewalk leading up to the bouncing building, pumping music could be heard. (She's ninety-eight percent sure it was a Dua Lipa song, but she couldn't hear it exactly).

Harnessed in neon pink tubes was the name of the club: Rêve.

At her side, Harry ignored the end of the line, taking her to the front just as Fran had instructed.

A burly bouncer sized them up, already doubting them after they cut the wait. (Y/N) offered her tabloid bunny smile, Harry the structured pillar at her side.

"Salut! Nous sommes ici pour rencontrer des amis sur un stand VIP, l'un d'entre eux ayant réservé pour la nuit," she chattered, keeping her eye contact with the bouncer.

The bouncer didn't look entirely impressed as he listened. His gaze inched from hers to land on Harry. "Nom?"

"Francesca Polair—nous sommes deux de ses invités."

The bouncer's eyes tripped down her form, taking in her shimmery dress and lengths of skin on display. "Pièce d'identité?"

While she reached for her small bag with her ID inside, the bouncer unclipped a small tablet that was hung from his belt. Handing over her passport, she watched as he squinted at the American identification. Nonetheless, her name inevitably matched that of what was on Fran's guest list.

"Vous êtes prêt à entrer. Est-il avec toi?" He asked, eyeing up Harry at her side.

"Oui, cela devrait également figurer sur la liste. Harry Styles."

This time the bouncer didn't properly look at the tablet, instead, taking her word for it though he still shot Harry a suspicious look with the way he lingered at her side.

Holding open the door, he nodding at (Y/N) to push past. "Les tribunes sont au fond, derrière la piste de danse."

"Merci," she murmured, stepping past him with Harry just a step behind.

Inside, the bass of the music that could be heard outside was that much louder, lyrics in French that were too loud for her to focus on enough to translate in her head. The space was dark, leaving only strobing beams of multicolored lights to throb through the club, the only stable beacons being that of the bars lining some of the walls.

Concentrations of people were found on the dance floor and the bars, leaving walkways in between to travel through. Staff and bottleservice workers traipsed through, fluorescent drinks with herbs perched on the rims were stationed on trays next to full bottles of sparkling liquor and beers that probably had no business being as expensive as they were.

The VIP section was a straight shot down to the back, easy to spot given the second bouncer manning the entrance and the stream of bottle service staff making their way there. Harry reminded her of his presence with a hand hovering on the small of her back, over the glittering fabric of her dress.

"Alright?" he asked, dipping down close to her ear in order for her to hear.

"Mhm," she hummed, nodding her head with stray baby hairs tickling the borders of her face, "We just need to get back there to Fran and Emma."

Harry followed her line of sight towards the booths lining the back. In that way he always did, a reflex that had to have come from years in his line of work, he took inventory of the path to the back, noting the bodies in the way and the easiest route back.

"Okay," he murmured, looking determined when he positioned himself in front of her with his fingers looping around her wrist.

He took the lead then, ensuring her path was clear as she stepped behind him. She couldn't hear if he was speaking over the sound of the music, but she wondered if he was muttering something to those around them that had them parting, no one able to even brush against her as she slipped through the crowd. She could feel eyes landing on her back as she stepped through, but no one stopped her, no one raised a camera at the spectacle.

Before they could even reach the bouncer, a pitched scream that careened over the pumping music had (Y/N)'s eyes snapping up the raised level that the booths were situated on. Glowing like a mermaid with big waves in her hair and slinky blue dress adorning her body was Francesca, bright smile that much whiter under the lights as she spotted her best friend. The almost empty drink in her hand was perfect evidence of just how she was able to pitch her voice so high.

"(Y/N)!" she bubbled, racing out of her chosen booth on Bambi legs, "You're here! I missed you so much—come here, come here!"

She all but pushed the bouncer aside as she met them at the entrance to the section, the top of the small trio of stairs being where she stopped. The bouncer didn't stop them as Harry pulled her into the safety of the VIP area. Francesca barely glanced at her bodyguard before she had (Y/N) wrapped up in a hug, her glass precariously teetering on her shoulder.

"Emma brought Stavros so she's been all over him," Francesca whined, "I was scared you were going to leave me with her."

"I told you I was on my way," (Y/N) giggled, peeking through the fluff that was Fran's hair to spy Harry standing off to the side in wait of her. She shot him a look, widened eyes with a quiet smile as if to let him in on the inside joke that was her friend's drunken blubbers.

"I know, but I forgot. It doesn't matter, though, everything's okay now," Francesca rushed out, pulling away from the hug to pull (Y/N) towards the chosen booth for the night. Suddenly, she seemed to finally notice Harry was there as well, despite the fact that he had been the one leading her into the section in the first place. "Harry! Hi," she bubbled, waving at him with her drink in hand.

"Hi, Francesca," he said, giving her a nod in greeting before his eyes met (Y/N)'s. It was his turn to give her a small look, their own moment of amusement over her.

"Are you partying with us tonight?" she asked, eyes bright at the idea of Harry joining in on the fun.

Harry shook his head, features schooled away from that quiet look he shared with (Y/N). "Not tonight—'m on duty."

"That's a bummer," Fran pouted. Turning towards (Y/N), she seemingly forgot what had her bummed in the first place, instead replacing her sullen pout with a mischievous smile. "But, are you ready for a drink? We have a couple bottles at the table if you want to do shots!"

Before (Y/N) had a chance to properly answer, Fran led them to the secluded booth off to the corner of the roped off section. There, Emma and Stavros were canoodling away in the padded corner just as Francesca had complained, Emma with her hand sitting on the bare section of chest her boyfriend had on display with his barely buttoned shirt. He looked a little too satisfied with her attention, the way he was sinking into the leather booth and spreading his legs as if inviting Emma further. (Y/N) couldn't blame Fran for panicking at the idea of being left alone with the lovebirds for the night. As happy as they were for lovestruck Emma, the public intimacy was a bit much.

True to her word, on the round table in the middle of the half-moon booth were two bottles of expensive liquor. Tiny shot glasses were standing in a stack by the bottles, a pair already having been used.

Just as Francesca moved to pour (Y/N) one of her own small glasses, she was stopped with a hand on her arm. "I don't want to do too much tonight, Fran," she told her in her ear, hoping she could hear her over the music, "I have pilates in the morning, then I was going to hunt for a new nail studio."

"Oh!" Fran chirped, the remains of her drink sloshing in her glass, "Why didn't you say so? We'll just get you a vodka soda then, so you stay hydrated."

Before (Y/N) could even laugh at her friend's well-intentioned solution, Francesca was already flagging down one of the bottle service workers to place another order. (Y/N) didn't try to stop her, more than willing of this to be her drink of choice for the night instead of a round of shots.

Emma, suddenly breaking out of her love bubble, noticed (Y/N) for the first time despite having been standing by their table for a handful of minutes now. "(Y/N)!" she cheered, eyes glazed and lips puffy, "Look, Stavros, (Y/N)'s here!"

"Hi Emma," (Y/N) greeted, reaching across the table to give her a short hug, "Hi Stavros."

"(Y/N)?" Stavros repeated back to Emma, a confused pinch between his brows.

"You met her at the Gala, remember?" she answered, attempting to jog his memory, "She was in the pink dress with the little bag."

"Oh, yes!" Stavros perked up, looking to (Y/N) with recognition in his eyes, "The crying girl, yes?"

Underneath her skin, (Y/N)'s blood simmered with embarrassment. With Harry being the only person she'd been around since leaving New York, and Francesca being well aware of how unnecessary that night was to bring up, no one had brought up the Gala and the contents of the night to her face. She knew that was what many people in attendance were going to remember her for, but she didn't think it would be so blatantly broadcasted to her face.

Emma shifted her gaze to (Y/N), most likely knowing through Francesca that the Gala was a topic that was off limits for the time being. The silence between the trio lasted a beat too long for (Y/N)'s comfort. She swallowed down that prickling embarrassment, instead giving a smile.

"That was me," she laughed it off, "Hopefully I'll stay out of trouble tonight."

That seemed to be enough to quell the lovebirds' nerves, allowing Emma to smile and laugh along while Stavros gave a peal of laughter that was too enthused for (Y/N) to believe he actually understood what she said. Nonetheless, the awkward beat had been extinguished and now only lived in (Y/N)'s head for the time being. At least no one else was listening, Francesca too busy with her ordering and Harry just a few too many feet away to catch specific conversations.

"How have you been, (Y/N)? I've barely been able to talk to you since you left," Emma started up, leaning forward to give (Y/N) all of her attention.

Though she was sure it was a way to fill in the gaps of the conversation and pave over the bump Stavros left in the night, (Y/N) was grateful for the change in subject, recounting her time in the city. Francesca eventually settled in beside her in the booth, giving her own commentary on the things (Y/N) had already shared with her over dinner. Harry was stationed a few feet away, allowing her some space and privacy for the night though she could still feel his eyes landing on her every now and then as she gesticulated through the story of their day of sightseeing.

Soon enough, drinks arrived at the table along with a wish for their group to have a fun night. Her vodka soda bubbled in hand, the first sips holding the aroma of the rosemary sprig that was lanced through the cubes of ice. Francesca and Emma on the other hand downed a pair of shots while Stavros cheered on his girlfriend.

By the time the burn had left Francesca's throat and she unclenched her eyes, (Y/N) had only made it through a couple of short pulls of her light drink. Francesca looked at her with bright eyes, the strobes from the dance floor tinting them a vibrant blue.

"Let's go dance, c'mon!" she bubbled, already standing on her wobbling legs before she finished speaking.

Peeking around her, she found the dance floor crowded but nowhere near packed in the way some of the spots in New York could get at this hour. The music was good enough, and she didn't plan on wasting her first night out with friends over a throw away comment from Emma's boyfriend and the fear that she might embarrass herself again.

Allowing Francesca to sweep her away, Emma and Stavros unsurprisingly staying back for a moment, (Y/N) found Harry's eyes for a moment. He looked at her with that solid eye contact he never wavered on when it came to her. A slight pinch lingered between his brows.

She shot him a small smile and a single nod.

She was going to have a good night. Harry didn't need to worry.

—————

"I love this song!"

(Y/N) let out an easy, boisterous laugh at Francesca's bubbling comment, throwing her head back with her eyes closed. Did she even know this song? Given the fact Fran's French was nowhere near as refined as (Y/N)'s, there was a high chance she didn't understand a single syllable pumping through the speakers. Nonetheless, (Y/N) kept dancing along with her friend, hands twisting high above her head with her hips swaying.

More than one drink had passed through her hands, a couple passed the limit she set for herself at the start of the night. She would be fine, though, she was sure. She was barely even tipsy, she thought. The Cosmo in her hand was slick against her palm, having replaced the vodka soda she started with.

Across from her Francesca was having the time of her life with Emma and Stavros rounding out their group. Harry was somewhere in the distance, keeping an eye on her. More than once, he checked in from across the room, even sending for another drink for her when he heard her complaining of needing another. He treaded around her carefully, ensuring he didn't infringe on her night while doing his job to the best of his ability.

At the top of the night, she noticed a few eyes on her, some whispering with those wandering eyes landing on her a few too many times. Though she would love to assume they were only speaking of her dress or sharing comments about the state of her dancing, her years in the light pushed her to speculate these were people who recognized her. As more drinks started flowing, her inhibition for the night waning, she let it go when she caught glimpses of phone cameras trained in her direction, a few people even daring to make their way closer to her on the dance floor.

Harry kept a careful eye on the situation, watching her movements and keeping track of those around her. (Y/N) was sure a few of the times he stepped in to grab her another drink or check in on her, it was nothing short of a tactic to separate her from the others on the floor, reminding them that she wasn't a gazelle to be preyed on.

Suddenly, a pair of hands slid around her waist. She jumped in her skin for a moment, her heated skin erupting in goosebumps. Though her dancing lagged for just a moment, she honestly didn't really care about the touch. With her eyes closed, and head trained towards the sky, she halfway figured it was Emma who was dancing with her, having abandoned her boyfriend to cuddle up for a moment.

Until she heard Emma's tittering laugh from a space away. In front of her.

Blinking her eyes open, (Y/N) took stock of those around her. Emma was stretching up to her tiptoes as she sealed her lips to Stavros', her hands locked in his hair, only pulling away when he whispered something to her that made her laugh. Francesca was off to the side of her, making moony eyes at an unfamiliar man in front of her, there chattering silent under the thrumming music. On her waist was the hand of someone she didn't know.

Stumbling in her spot, she tried to whirl around in an attempt to see who exactly it was that was behind her. The hand on her waist tightened, steadying her as he leaned down with his mouth by her ear.

"Sorry, chérie," an accented voice said over her shoulder, "I didn't mean to scare you."

Unable to help the peal of laughter that fell from her lips, (Y/N) realized something just then.

She was drunk.

In a different moment, with a different drink in her hand (probably water), she wouldn't have been quite so welcoming to having someone touch her and use a pet name so casually.

Instead, she didn't really mind. She could only laugh and hang onto his hand, keeping herself steady as she tipped her head backwards to see him.

"It's okay," she slurred, "I just wasn't expecting that." Blue eyes stared back at her, topped by black brows. He smelled like smoke and vodka Red Bulls. "Who are you?"

The man laughed at her blunt question, the sound mixing with the music. "I am Marc," he told her, eyes shifting over her head to where Francesca was standing, "And that's my friend, Alain. We thought you and your friend were beautiful, so we wanted to introduce ourselves."

"Oh, okay," she sounded, matching his line of sight a little too quickly with her hair fluttered around her face. Much more stable on her feet again, she spun on her heels, facing her mystery man—Marc—properly. "Nice to meet you," she bubbled, taking an absent sip from her drink, "I'm (Y/N)."

Dipping down, Marc pressed a swift kiss to the soft of her cheek. "Nice to meet you, (Y/N). I've been having to work up the courage to come talk to you since I first came in here."

While in the back of her muddled mind, (Y/N) knew well that he was feeding her nothing but lines, she wasn't sure if she cared. There had been enough times she had been seduced by a French accent and enough wine to know that this was just one of those things. French men were much more romantic in her experiences, their lines matching the intimacy they were seeking from her.

Was it such a bad thing to revel in the niceties, though? The last time someone had openly flirted with her now ranked in the top five worst nights of her life, so it felt a little more than nice to have someone piling compliments and cushioned flirting. Was it such a bad thing to indulge herself? To soak in a second of outside validation?

Though the standard wasn't that high, at least he wasn't grabbing her face and demeaning her.

Letting her hesitations go, drifting to the back of her mind with the help of the alcohol train running off the tracks, she leaned towards him with a giggling smile. "Well, I'm happy you did," she beamed, her eyes hooded.

Taking another pull of her drink, her straw hit the bottom with only ice clinking against the glass. She almost wanted to whine at the sight. She had been hoping for more.

"Do you want me to get you another?" Marc asked, nodding towards her drink when she looked up at him.

"Um, hold on," she told him, already craning her neck to look around him in hopes of spotting someone else.

(Y/N) scanned the blur of bodies for Harry. It didn't take long to see the only sober person in the crowd, his gaze sharp and commanding through the strobing lights. He stood off the dance floor with his arms across his chest. Raising his brows, he matched her gaze. Canting her head, she raised her glass over her head as if that was enough of an explanation.

Harry gave her a small nod before she was looking back at her new friend.

"One of my friends has been getting me drinks tonight, actually. So, thanks, but I've got it." A hiccup punctuated her words.

Marc looked over his shoulder, surely spotting Harry who was making his way through the crowd to her. "You said he's your friend?"

"Uh-huh," (Y/N) sounded, wanting to see Harry herself but instead opting to sway to the sound of the music. He'd be here soon enough. "He's technically my bodyguard, but he's my friend.

"Bodyguard?" Marc repeated, looking back towards (Y/N).

Even though her vodka-soaked thought process, she noted the way he didn't seem too put off by the fact she had any kind of security detail. Maybe, that was that French disposition—the inability to care that much—but that wasn't something she was able to think about for very long.

"Uh-huh," she answered nonetheless, a hiccup making her pause, "It's a long story. I'm from New York, and there's been a lot of stuff going on, so, yeah, he's my bodyguard."

Speak of the devil, Harry popped in then, having elbowed his way through to stand at (Y/N)'s side. He didn't pay Marc a single moment of attention, looking only to her with his secure gaze.

"Y'want another, or water?"

While she couldn't deny she was reveling under Marc's attention, it was also very clear to herself how much she preferred Harry's eyes on her opposed to her new companion. There were sparks of relief upon seeing him within touching distance again, knowing that he was right there. If there was anything she needed, he was there now to remedy her situation. She knew he was taking note of everything, uncaring of whether or not her makeup was intact, assuring that she was safe and taken care of.

But, Marc actually called her pretty. He won for the night, (Y/N) decided.

"I think I want another, but then I want water," she shouted over the music, giving Harry her glass for him to discard at the bar.

Raising a dark brow, Harry gave her that amused look. "That's what y'said last time."

She laughed easily at his prodding, her grin stretching wide over her lips and head dropping backwards. "I know," she sang, "But I mean it this time."

"Whatever you say," he teased, "But I'll get you another. Jus' stay right here and wait for me."

"Merci," she crooned to him, suddenly remembering Marc's presence when he squeezed at her waist.

Before (Y/N) could offer for Harry to grab Marc a drink while he was at the bar as well, Harry was already off. He made a quick detour, checking on her friends then sinking into the thick of the crowd once more.

She hadn't even known she was watching the space he disappeared into until Marc snaked his hand up the line of her spine, palm flat against her back as he pushed her into him. (Y/N) turned her attention to him, mouth in a small gape as he matched her gaze head-on. His eyes were a lot icier than she remembered.

"Do you maybe want to go sit down for a second somewhere?" he asked, dipping down to press his cheek against hers with his lips by her ear, "It's hard to hear you out here."

"In a second," she answered, hiccuping against his chest, "I need to wait for him."

"You have a booth for the night, though, right? Up in the VIP section?" he pressed, seemingly not catching her caveat in sneaking away.

"I-I do, but Harry—my drink."

"I'm sure he'll be able to find you up there, don't worry," Marc insisted, herding (Y/N) off the dance floor and towards the sectioned off dais.

Though her footing wasn't the most stable at the moment, (Y/N) still attempted to dig her heels in and stay put. Harry told her to stay here. She had promised him she would keep his job easy while in Paris, and she knew that sneaking off wasn't something that would abide by that promise.

Out of nowhere, Francesca's hand clasped around her shoulder. In her other hand was Marc's friend's arm, her eyes hooded and glazed.

"Let's go up to the booth," she drawled, words a little slurred.

"Are you sure?" (Y/N) asked, the slightly more sober of the duo, "Harry is supposed to come back over here; he told me to wait."

Francesca shook her head with her fluff of styled hair. "He'll"—hic—"He'll be able to find you. It's okay."

It wouldn't be so bad if Francesca and Emma were up there with her. Harry wasn't stupid either, the next place he would look after the dance floor would have to be the booth, right? it would be okay.

Giving a nod to Fran, (Y/N) allowed her to lead their small group towards the VIP area, Marc and his friend happily intermingling with the group and Emma and Stavros bringing up the rear.

Despite her hesitancy, she did feel a bit better by the time she scaled the small set of stairs. She was nowhere near sober and the music wasn't much quieter than down on the floor, but at least here she wasn't stuffed between bodies. She could open her eyes and see stretches of the floor, her body touching non-humid air again.

She was happy to see the booth once more, grateful to take a seat and get the pressure off her feet and the heels she had strapped around her ankles. Though Marc didn't slide in beside her like she expected. Instead, stood at the head of the table and lent down to speak to her.

"I have a couple of other friends I brought tonight. Do you mind if I go get them? I'm their ride so I don't want them to worry," he told her, looking innocently with icy blue eyes.

"Friends?" (Y/N) asked, unsure if it was the alcohol or the outlandish request that wasn't computing.

"Yeah, just a few. They're down there," Marc recited, casting a thumb over his shoulder. "I'll be right back, okay?"

With that, he was heading back down the entrance of the VIP area, leaving (Y/N) and the girls behind.

Fran, little black straw in her mouth with water finally having been poured in her glass, lent across the booth, gently touching (Y/N)'s shoulder. When she turned, she caught the woozy smile on Francesca's face.

"Your guy is really cute," she said, her words dissolving into laughter.

"Yeah," (Y/N) answered absently, "But, did yours tell you that they're bringing friends over here?"

"Yeah," Fran simply repeated, taking another long sip of her water.

While it didn't particularly soothe her that Francesca didn't seem to care about the new uninvited guests, she figured there wasn't much else she could glean about her thoughts while in her drunken state. Instead, she let Francesca insert herself into Emma and Stavros' conversation, while (Y/N) searched for Harry. Soon enough, she spotted him approaching the dais, pink drink in hand and water in the other. There was a particularly stern set in his jaw, clearly disappointed.

Coming to the booth, he ducked down to place the duo of drinks in front of her, the water closer to the foreground. He looked at her through the fan of his lashes, lips a stern line as he lent across to talk to her.

"I thought y'were going to wait for me down there," he told her, lips by her ear.

"Um, yeah," she responded, dropping her gaze to the cranberry juice heavy Cosmopolitan she ordered, "That guy—my friend—, he said he wanted to talk to me here so it was a little bit quieter. But, now he's getting some friends he said he didn't want to leave behind."

(Y/N) didn't have to see Harry to know he was particularly unimpressed with this new information. "He said he's bringing friends? To come and sit up here with you?"

"Yeah," she told him, voice small with a nod of her head.

The more she said it out loud, the less and less of a good idea it sounded to her ears.

"Okay," he sighed, pulling away to match her eye contact head-on, "'M going to be right there, then." Behind him, he pointed at the glass railing that reinforced the boundaries of the VIP section, a good place for him to take up post and keep an eye on her. "Make sure y'stay with Emma and Francesca, okay? Don't let them get separated from you. Remember what we talked about that I need you to do if you're uncomfortable."

Swallowing, (Y/N) nodded her head, looking at him with wide eyes. Though the scene around him blurred a little too much, vodka-tinted vision, she made sure she locked eyes with him. "Okay. I remember."

That seemed to quell him enough, though that set in his jaw never loosened. "Good. I'll be right there, just grab me if y'need me."

With Harry blending into his post, his eyes unwavering on her form, (Y/N) attempted to settle herself with sips of her water. Soon enough, a larger group of people infiltrated the VIP section, their access to get through having been the fact two of the members had been previously seen with (Y/N) and Francesca.

The group of friends looked a lot different than what (Y/N) had expected. Two more men had joined the fray, along with three women. The entire friend group being that of seven people, adding into the group of four that were (Y/N) and her friends.

"Thanks for letting me bring them up here," Marc said, sly smile on his lips when he slipped into the booth beside (Y/N), "They really wanted to meet you guys."

"Y-Yeah, of course," she stuttered out, though Marc clearly stopped listening before she even started.

His eyes wandered to one of the women he brought up, watching as she flagged down a bottle service worker. (Y/N) could hear her rattling off orders in French, pointing back at Francesca and (Y/N) settled into the booth. While she was busy, the others had descended upon the liquor already on the table, draining the bottles.

"What's wrong?" Marc asked, voice a tad too sweet. As if he didn't have a single idea of what she could be bothered by.

"There's just a lot of people," (Y/N) answered, clutching her glass of water tight. If she had the attention to spare, she would have looked towards Francesca for assistance, to see if she was the only one thrown off. But there was too much happening, and she couldn't even see Harry through the new mass forming in their booth.

Marc waved her off carelessly, "Don't worry about them. Just have fun, chérie. The night is still young."

Around her, she saw the maelstrom that had begun. Drinks were flowing, Francesca happily distracted with Alain, Emma and Stavros in their bubble, and a few of the new additions to the table pairing off with affectionate hands. There was only one woman left—the one that had initially flagged down the bottle service worker—who was carefully watching Marc at (Y/N)'s side.

Everyone was having fun, she figured. The two bottles they had on their table had been drained with Francesca a moment away from catching her man for the night in a kiss. Even the woman with eyes on Marc was swaying to the music, empty shot glasses in front of her.

(Y/N) did want to have fun.

"C'mon, dance with me," Marc persuaded, standing up with his hand held out for her to take.

After a beat of hesitation, (Y/N) took his offered hand and joined him, paying enough attention to the music above to let everything go just a hair. With Marc egging her on, a hand landing on her waist, she swayed along to the beat, hanging more fun the less she thought.

It wasn't until she took a sip of her water that Marc interrupted her.

"No, have fun, chérie," he pressed, taking the water out of her hand and reaching for the abandoned Cosmopolitan.

"I don't know," (Y/N) started, intending to reject the drink until it was shoved into her hand.

"Don't be boring, chérie," Marc chided, as if he were close enough to her to tease, "Don't let it go to waste, at least."

While it wasn't solid logic considering (Y/N) was the one paying for her drink, it was enough of a persuasion to work on her muddled brain. She pliantly fit the thin black straw between her lips, allowing herself to drift into the moment. It wasn't so bad, she decided. The extra people weren't so bad in their sanctioned area. It didn't even bother her that much when three more bottles were delivered to the table, sparklers and all with a procession of excited staff fueling the fire.

"I told them it was alright to order some bottles for the table," Marc sounded over the music, looping an arm around her shoulders to press her to his chest, "I can pay you back though if you want, I just kind of figured it would be okay since you're from New York and all."

Looking to the table, she saw as the rest of his friends swarmed the table, Alain even abandoning Francesca to join in the rounds of shots. (Y/N)'s name wasn't even officially on the table, but they'd still managed to put things on her tab.

Floundering over her response, (Y/N) could feel her mouth gape before closing once more. In this moment, more than anything she wished she hadn't drank so much. This wouldn't be much of a struggle if she could manage to focus or not dredge through miles of muddy tracks in her head. It was easier to let things go at the moment instead of allowing the bubbling blow up that would have transpired earlier in the night.

"Um—Just, don't order too much," (Y/N) conditioned, her brows coming together in a loose pinch.

"It'll be alright," he assured her, that arm around her shoulders tightening to get her eyes back on him, "C'mon let's finish our drinks."

Marc's free hand came up to urge her drink up to her mouth. (Y/N) hesitated for a moment, contemplating for a split second. While it was annoying, the extra bottles ordered in her name at the table, but it wasn't so bad. The night was going fine enough, and Marc was nice. She didn't want to ruin anything or make any kind of scene in the middle of the club. Harry's eyes were no doubt trained on her.

Even with her father countries away at the moment, she was sure he'd find a way to punish her accordingly if Harry had to report anything unpleasant back.

Pliantly, (Y/N) pulled the thin black straw between her lips, taking down her Cosmopolitan.

—————

Unsure of how she got here, (Y/N) couldn't help but to stare wide eyed at Marc and his—surprisingly enough—girlfriend dancing on the table.

At least she assumed that was his girlfriend, with the way his tongue was down her throat and hand was on her ass.

Honestly, she couldn't be that surprised, considering this woman was the same one that had been staring possessively the whole time Marc was interacting with her. But, how they ended up on the table, dancing to some French song she was not sober enough to understand, (Y/N) did not know.

Around the table, the rest of that friend group had grown just as rowdy. The floor was sticky with spilled drinks, the waitstaff offering dirty looks from the amount of times one of the couples had attempted to smoke, and the neighboring tables were beginning to lose patience with their chaos.

Francesca was definitely out of her head for the night, every sip of alcohol definitely hitting her system heavily. While she may have had qualms with the etiquette of their unwanted guests if she were sober, she definitely didn't with the way she was willing to ignore as much in favor of dancing and playing with Emma when she wasn't busy with Stavros. Emma's boyfriend, being the most sober of the group, was less than impressed, whispering something into Emma's ear that (Y/N) hoped was a game plan to get out of here.

Searching through the mass that had been created around the table, (Y/N) tried to spot Harry. She wanted to get out of here. There was no reasoning with the way these people were behaving, and she wanted to get out of here before she was pushed too far.

Suddenly, a strong hand landed on her shoulder. Turning on her heel, she startled at the touch.

Harry stood behind her, his jaw set and brows in a furrow. Dipping his head down, he told her, "We need to leave."

Even with her head swimming, (Y/N) jerkily nodded her head. "I don't want to be here anymore," she answered, "Th-They're being crazy."

"Yeah." His answer was simple and stern, flicking his gaze up to the couple dancing on the table. His eyes blazed at the sight of Marc, definitely having played with (Y/N) through the night to get up to this section. "C'mon," he prompted, using his hand on her shoulder to help guide her through the booth before meeting him on the other side.

Despite her drunken legs, she dug her heels in. "But, Fran and Emma."

"I'll call them a car, we jus' need to leave before this gets any more out of hand. Tell them we're leaving."

Nodding, Harry let go of her before she tried to swim across to catch Francesca. Even when she grabbed her hand, Fran kept dancing, on a different planet that kept her eyes plugged and head drowning.

"Francesca!" (Y/N) shouted, trying to be heard over the music.

"(Y/N)!" she answered, barely glancing at her with a flip of her hair before she was dancing on an odd rhythm.

Attempting to catch her attention once more, (Y/N) was stopped as Marc leaned down, his lips swollen and eyes glazed.

"You're not leaving, right?" he yelled over the music, his words watery and slurred, "You're supposed to stay and party with us, New York!"

(Y/N) stammered over an answer. "I—um—"

"We've seen those pictures of you, we know you like to have a good time! You can't leave yet!"

Worrying her bottom lip between her teeth, part of her chest felt a little too tight. Of course, they knew who she was. Of course, they'd seen photos of her.

"I'm sorry, I don't feel good," she responded, uncaring if he could hear her over the music anymore.

Something shifted in Marc, then. His features morphed almost before her eyes, his eyes darkening and brows tightening. "How are we supposed to pay for all of this, if you aren't here?!"

"I'm sorry, but I'm not staying here," she affirmed, shaking her head, "I'm grabbing my friends and—"

"Wow," he spat, cutting her off, "You really are a bitch—just like everyone says,"

Stepping up behind her, Harry placed a stern hand on Marc's chest, pushing him out of (Y/N)'s space.

"Back off, unless y'would prefer to have a problem," he started, his rough voice heavy over the music. Marc teetered off balance, the woman at his side having to steady him as he looked at Harry with offended eyes.

"Who a—"

"We're leaving," Harry cemented, ignoring whatever Marc was going to try to say, "You are going to find a way to pay for all of this, or you'll be hearing from me again. You're not going to be taking advantage of her."

There was no room left for Marc to argue before Harry wrangled up the girls, Stavros helping to guide both Fran and Emma out of the booth.

"C'mere," Harry said, offering (Y/N) his hand to help her climb over the back of the booth.

She happily took his hand, carefully stepping over the faux-leather with Harry grabbing her waist to help her over the structure. Tottering on her heels for just a moment, Harry didn't linger for very long before he was rushing her out of the VIP section. She could feel dirty looks on her back from the staff, but she didn't care at the moment.

Instead, she clung to Harry as they caught up to Francesca and Emma, Stavros heading their line on his much steadier feet. The closer they ventured to the exit, the more and more drunk she felt. The more removed she became from the pumping music and the other alcohol-soaked bodies, the more the real world was not suited to her current state.

"Careful," Harry murmured in her ear, righting her from a stumble she hadn't realized she made. Slipping an arm around her waist, he curled his hand around her hip.

"Sorry, sorry," she answered, fixing her gaze on her feet in hopes of staying cautious like he asked. Absently, she grabbed his hand on her hip, laying her palm against the top of hand with her fingers curling in-between the gaps of his.

Harry pulsed his hand, both her hip and fingers cradled in his hold.

Stavros pushed the exit door open for everyone to follow, the first light of the outside world glimmering into the otherwise dark club. Even with the alcohol muddling her thoughts, (Y/N) still caught the way Francesca stumbled back when she stepped out, her hands blindly reaching up to cover her eyes.

(Y/N)'s steps slowed, bright flashes pinging out on the sidewalk. Those people—the ones who stole their table and tacked (Y/N)'s name on the end of their bill—they wouldn't have posted about her, would they? While she might not be as hugely followed out here compared to New York, there were definitely international publications that enjoyed snapping her photo and selling it off.

Heading up the rear, Harry continued to pull her towards the exit, even when (Y/N) saw another round of flashbulbs go off when Emma made her appearance out on the concrete. Shouted questions in French could be heard, bubbling just over the sound of the music.

"Stay with me," Harry murmured to her, "There should be some cars waiting, jus' stay steady, (Y/N)."

She wanted to listen, she really did. But, the shuttering cameras and bright blinking bulbs was enough to get her hesitating just enough that she couldn't keep up. She didn't want to be seen like this, not after the way this night had turned out.

As attentive as Harry was, always observant, he was on a mission and that didn't include (Y/N) dragging while he tried to get her to a safe place.

As he tugged her over the threshold of the door, Stavros still holding it open, she stumbled against Harry's pulling, her heel catching just right. Flashes twinkled in her face, cameras blinking as photographs were taken of her stumbling outside, clinging to Harry with her breath caught in her throat. The toe of her pump dragged over the concrete, her lost balance weighing her down until Harry righted her, steadying his grip around her waist with his free hand reaching for her hip.

"Y'alright?" he murmured to her, suddenly breathless as he helped her back onto her feet.

"I'm okay," she told her, voice a peep under the bright attention.

Pressing questions were spewed in her direction, many asking who Harry was, why she was in Paris, and how drunk she was. (Y/N) ignored them all, focusing on following Harry who now led the group towards the waiting cars.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, voice low for her ears only, "I didn't mean to trip you."

(Y/N) shook her head. "It's okay," she assured him, eyes on her feet to calculate her steps, "I just want to go home."

"We will." Harry's simple answer was just that before he quickened his pace, allowing (Y/N) to keep up as they pushed through the throng of photographers waiting outside the club.

With Stavros heading up the back of their procession, many of the paparazzi were unable to follow any of the girls without getting through him first. As kind as he was, she could tell he used that Greek glare to his advantage, acting as if he couldn't believe they were following him while being an oblivious block in the road.

That extra distraction allowed Harry to lead the group somewhere safe, around the side of a building a little too narrow for anyone else to follow. Two black sedans were parked against the curb.

Without hesitation, Harry adjusted his grip on (Y/N), practically hugging her to his chest. She curled into him, fitting her forehead against the column of his throat with her arms a bundle between them. Harry cradled her with his arms around her waist, keeping her safe with him after the chaos that erupted.

She could hear him speaking over her head to Emma and Stavros, ensuring they were going to take care of Francesca and that he had taken care of the fees of their reserved vehicle. She wanted to participate, tell Emma she was sorry for the night's turn and assure Stavros that every night (Y/N) was involved in didn't dissolve into a scrambled mess, but instead she kept herself warm against Harry's chest and let him do the talking for them. She would call Emma later she decided—maybe text her if her hangover didn't allow phone calls in the morning.

"That one's yours," Harry directed, (Y/N) noticing his words only when he unlinked an arm around her to point, "It was nice to meet you. Get home safe."

Stavros answered back in broken English while Emma was busy herding Francesca along with them. Muttered discussion could be heard with the driver of their vehicle before car doors were opens and slammed shut. The sound reverberated for a moment, before silence settled.

"Our turn?" (Y/N) asked, pulling away to look up at Harry holding her.

His lips were thin, eyes downturned as he gazed at her. "C'mon," he responded, loosening his hold in exchange for leading her towards the single waiting sedan

He took charge, speaking to the driver through the rolled down window, even if his French was less than stellar. Once all the details and verifications are figured out, Harry helped her in the backseat, pushing her in first before leaning in and helping her buckle up. While (Y/N) had anticipated that cushion of space to be between them as usual, he surprised her by sliding in right at her side, a long arm laying across the top of the seat behind her head.

Peeking through the rearview mirror, (Y/N) caught the driver eyeing she and Harry, her brown eyes fluttering with recognition. (Y/N) curled into herself then, dropping her gaze to her hands in her lap while Harry's dropped to the cuff of her shoulder. In French, he reiterated the address of the penthouse when their driver didn't immediately pull away from the curb.

Once the road was under their tires, the sound of the gear shifting and setting them off away from the club, (Y/N) felt herself begin to relax. Even if their driver knew who she was, it was a less daunting experience than waiting outside of a paparazzi litter club while waitstaff inside were no doubt spinning rumors about her low class and patrons were spitting over the fact they had to foot the bill they ran up.

Casting her memory back to the front of the night was enough to exhaust her into slumping against Harry's shoulder.

"I want water," she blurted out, nestling into the divot between his shoulder and chest.

Harry pulsed his arm around her frame, keeping her warm against his chest. "I'll get y'some water as soon as we're back, yeah?"

"I want to take my makeup off, though," she mused, a pinch appearing between her brows though her eyes fluttered closed.

"We'll take your makeup off when we get back, yeah? First thing."

"I want food, too."

A breathy laugh disturbed where she was cuddled into him. "I'll get y'something to eat when we get back, yeah?"

Mulling it over for a lingering second, (Y/N) agreed with a nod of her head. "Yeah," she parroted, pleased enough with his operation.

The gentle motion of the turns and slow stops the car made was enough to settle (Y/N) into a light trance, her head filling with sleep-puffed clouds. She forced herself to stay awake, hoping the elapsed time was as long as it felt.

"I didn't get to say bye to the girls," (Y/N) said, hoping to keep herself awake enough for Harry to get her water, food, and her makeup off like he promised.

"I told them you'd call, or you can text them later," he explained, shifting over the leather of the seat.

"You don't think they're mad, right?" she pressed, voice quieter, "That I ruined everything with those guys?"

A pause of silence sat as the third passenger for a moment, heavy before Harry spoke. "Of course, they're not. 'S not your fault any of that happened—you're jus' too nice sometimes, that's all."

"No one's ever said that about me before." (Y/N) couldn't help the short smile that tickled the corners of her mouth.

"What do you mean?"

"That I'm too nice," she beamed, snuggling closer to Harry, "Usually it's the opposite."

Perfect timing came in the form of their cab stopping outside of the building, easy French words coming from the driver as she turned to talk to Harry. (Y/N) could vaguely hear him thanking her and sending payment off through his phone, before he was sliding across the leather with her in tow.

"Careful," he crooned, offering a hand as she followed in teetering steps.

(Y/N) laced their fingers together without a second thought. Harry solidified the hold in a pulse of his fingers around hers.

She was a step behind him with a blinking flutter of her lashes, forcing her eyes to adjust to the world once more after being shuttered for the duration of the drive. The warm lighting of the building helped her find her footing in the real world, no longer neon like the club or fluorescent like the flashbulbs of cameras. Harry kept a steady grip on her hand, taking her to the leisurely paced elevator.

Staying stuck to his side, huddled into a single corner of the whole cubicle, soft music filled the space between them while (Y/N) recounted the night. While she definitely was not sober, stepping away from the high paced environments allowed her mind to iron out some of the details she didn't think twice about earlier.

"I don't like when people talk to me like that," she murmured, the number on the carousel just blinking past two.

"What do you mean?" The warmth of his gaze landed on the side of her face, his hand heavy in hers.

"That guy," she started, her breathing stuttering through the beginning of a hiccup she swallowed down, "The one at the club. He was mad that I wasn't going to be there to pay for what he and his friends ordered. I think he knew who I was even though he pretended he didn't. He called me a bitch." A beat passed. "I think that girl was his girlfriend, too—the one on the table with him."

Harry stood quietly at her side, the ever-sturdy pillar. He listened, observed. Took everything in, as he always did.

That silence stuck with them as the elevator chimed as they reached their floor. The doors parted for Harry to usher her through, taking her to the door before unlocking the knob and helping her forward. It wasn't until they were alone, in their private space, that he spoke again.

"I did hear him say those things," he murmured, his voice tight.

"It was mean, wasn't it?" she asked, kicking her shoes off by the front door, her toes aching after holding her weight for the night.

"It is," he affirmed, waiting for her to grow steady on her feet before he started towards the kitchen. True to his promise, he started with a glass of water for her, setting it on the counter before he was raiding the cabinets for a snack. He didn't look at her when he spoke again, keeping his attention forward. "You know none of that is true, though, right?"

"Hm?" (Y/N) hummed, sipping her water with her eyes trained on his back.

Returning with leftover gougères from the day before (Harry had become really fond of bisqué now that she showed him it didn't matter the season, soup was always a good choice), he set the cheese-baked pastries as her side before he leveled her gaze.

"No matter what he said,'' Harry started, his words slow and deliberate, "You're not a bitch,"—he all but choked around the word—"It's not up to you to pay for him and his idiot friends. He was trying to take advantage of you."

"I know," she swallowed, the words hitting a soft part of her muddled brain, "B-But now there's another person that thinks I'm bad."

"I don't think that, though," he said after a beat, his voice considerably softer, matching the moss of his eyes, "Fran and Emma don't think so—neither does Sully. We all know who y'actually are, and I think that counts for something."

Standing quietly, bare feet against the tile of the kitchen, (Y/N) allowed his words to swim in her brain. She soaked them in as much as she could, the weight of them heavy.

"You really don't think so?" she pressed, dropping her gaze to the collar of his fitted shirt, "Even after... everything, and all the stuff my father told you?"

Harry shook his head, a loose curl splaying across his forehead. "What your father says, means nothing to me. Everything I've seen, is y'trying your best. You're put in hard situations, and then expected to know how to handle them on your first try, all while everyone watches. It's not fair."

Overloaded, (Y/N) tried to cling to every word he was saying. She dearly hoped she would remember this in the morning, or at least the feeling of it all. The feeling of that light hope in her chest, brighter than that of whatever French bisqué she made or fanciful purchase could inspire.

Harry understood her.

"That's exactly how it feels sometimes," she confided in him, blindly reaching out in hopes of catching the hem of his shirt before he did her one better and bundled both of her hands in his own. "I love Fran, I do," she told him, letting his gaze with her own soft eyes, "But, she doesn't understand me like that—like you do."

"I wish more people understood you," Harry murmured, his words quiet enough (Y/N) wasn't sure if she heard him right.

"You're like my best friend, now," (Y/N) responded, hoping he could catch her sincerity even if she was a little plastered.

Those searching eyes traipsed around the planes of her face, skipping along every contour and highlight. She wished she knew what was going on in his head, what thought he had when he catalogued her like a fine gown.

"C'mon," he beckoned her, unlacing one hand from hers only to grab the plate of gougères, "Let's eat, then we'll get ready for bed."

(Y/N) pliantly followed, the Eiffel Tower glimmering through the windows of her balcony.

—————

Slipping out of her bedroom, (Y/N) cast her eyes around in hopes of finding Harry lounging about.

Last night was a whirlwind that ended with her snuggled in her bed, makeup off and hair braided back but still in her dress. She woke with a half eaten gougère on her bedside table, alongside a glass of water and a small bottle of aspirin. While parts of the night were muddied, many things were still clear—including the way Harry handled her and helped take care of her friends.

That also meant she remembered the small string of photographers that had waited outside the club, cameras flashing as she stumbled over her own feet.

Against her better judgement, she couldn't help but to check her phone after blinking the sleep out of her eyes, wanting to see what exactly—if anything—was being written by her.

The photos were the first things she saw, many of them favoring headlines featuring a specific shot of her clinging to Harry as she almost fell, the hem of her dress riding up and Harry's grip strong around her waist. The nature of their relationship was once again called into question, as if his hold was anything but protective. Some even captioned the photos of him whispering to her, apologizing for tripping her, as him whispering sweet nothings into her hair.

Honestly, many of the articles were on the tame side, the headlines being nothing more than clickbait. The worst they spoke on was her "leg-baring dress", while much more of the pieces were spent speculating about Harry once more and recounting the 132 Gala news.

She'd definitely seen worse about herself. While none of this was the preferred outcome, it was one she could get through. Hopefully, with the time zones, her father wouldn't see the news just yet.

After washing her face and brushing her teeth, she left her phone on her bed while venturing outside the suite. Instead of finding Harry like she hoped, she was instead left with a view of an empty apartment, a single glass of her purple smoothie left on the counter.

A smile bloomed on her fatigued cheeks when she noticed the dirtied blender in the sink, scraps of fruit having been tossed in the trash with a freshly wiped down countertop. Harry had to have made this one.

Maybe that was why it tasted that much sweeter when she took the first sip. Even without the matcha and collagen she usually requested, she felt much more awake.

Straw tucked between her lips as she sipped her smoothie, (Y/N) debated tracking down Harry to his bedroom, wishing so badly she could see him again in the right-frame of mind.

Those reassurances he uttered to her the night before were sitting in her head, perfect like a present waiting for her to wake up to. Perhaps that's what had made the sensationalized stories about her much more palatable. What did it matter what they and anonymous blogs said when Harry reiterated how many people in her life knew her and cared for her.

Turning back towards the living room, she spotted him through the crystal windows on the balcony doors, coffee in hand as he made a home in the lounger. She tried not to overthink it all as she crossed the room, gently knocking on the door before pushing it open.

"Morning," she murmured, stepping out onto the balcony with him.

Harry's posture straightened, his sleepy eyes gazing up at her through the shadow of his lashes. "Morning. How are you feeling?"

Taking a long sip of the smoothie, she hoped he caught the way almost a third of it was gone already. "Definitely been better. So much for not drinking, right?" she joked, taking a seat beside him in her own lounger.

"Y'weren't too bad," he answered, his own amusement leaking through his words. "Y'don't feel sick or anything?"

Turning her gaze towards the city, she watched the sun rise over the Eiffel Tower, remembering what it looked like with all the twinkle light just hours before.

"No, I'm alright. Thank you for getting me food and medicine and everything."

"Of course," he answered simply, taking a sip of his own coffee.

From the corner of his eye, his gaze lingered on the smoothie in her hand. The ghost of a dimple touched his cheek.

For the first time in a while, especially after everything she had read being posted about them—about him—, she didn't feel the need to explain or apologize.

Harry knew her. He knew her enough to know the difference between tabloid features and facts. Even knowing what would undoubtedly be said about him if he were pictured so closely with her—whether it be because of his job or the fact she felt she could call him a friend—he didn't shy away from holding her tight and making her feel safe in the midst of everything.

Instead of offering any kind words, (Y/N) scooted her chair that much closer to his, eyes on the Tower.

—————

"(Y/N), how many times do we have to talk about this?"

Without missing a beat, (Y/N) kept cleaning up the kitchen after having made lunch for she and Harry, her father's voice nothing more than dull background noise as she left the call on speaker. The mute feature was being utilized as he raged at her, not a second thought in her head being spared over his grilling.

It was a waste of time, she decided. That was the kind of mood she was in today, and that was the kind of daughter he would be getting. Though, to notice at all, would mean that he would have to actually pay attention and let her speak instead of spilling off rhetorical questions before hitting her with insults once.

It'd been a full day since the articles had been posted about her, more and more photos resurfacing of her stumbling outside and being led away with Harry, while blogs were posting grainy photos from the inside of the club before things went downhill. She knew a phone call like this was coming.

The only new addition to this particular berating, was the silent audience that was sitting on the couch.

Harry, leaning against the arm of the couch, had his arms crossed, one hand at his side in a heavy fist with the other cupping his chin, elbow bent to rest on his other wrist. His gaze was unfocused, a piece of flooring holding his attention while he listened to whatever it was that her father was serving up for the day.

From the way his features pinched and this fist as his side progressively tightened into a white-knuckled grip, she could only imagine the kind of things her father was sharing. He didn't even know there was an audience there to listen in, let alone that it was Harry. No filter was being applied as he spoke.

Wringing out her washcloth in the sink, (Y/N) tuned in just enough to hear a question that had her hands stuttering.

"Is Harry not enough for you?" her father asked, disappointment dripping from his tone, "Do I need to find someone else to look after you? Do you need a whole team to keep you in line?"

She rushed to pick up her phone, taking the call off speaker and mute as she pressed it to her ear.

"No, no," she interrupted him, uncaring of the snap that would be given back for cutting him off, "Harry's doing a good job, just... You know how I am."

Turning her back to Harry as she spoke, she attempted to find some kind of privacy as if she weren't the only one speaking in the room. He could hear every word—every plea she was about to make to ensure he kept his job with her.

While she took it as a positive that her father wasn't suggesting to replace Harry, she definitely didn't want anyone else added to the mix. Harry is more than enough for her.

On the other end, her father scoffed. "Don't I," he mused, (Y/N) able to imagine the rolling of his eyes through the phone. "I don't know what to do, (Y/N)," he started, heaving a sigh, "I've reached out to publicists and handlers, and anyone in the industry to help. No one wants to touch your reputation. It's preceded you at this point, no one wants to work with a brat. I don't have many options left."

Grateful for the fact her back was facing Harry, she felt a warmth hit under her skin. It was a humiliating thought—knowing that others all around her had spoken so lowly that even publicists that deemed any publicity as good publicity wouldn't touch her.

"I know," she conceded, swallowing around her dry throat, "But, I don't think any more security is a good idea. It would look bad, don't you think?"

She was grasping at straws a bit, hoping to dig into the image he held so dear. The one thing he cared about when it came to her.

A beat passed before he spoke once more, his voice distant and musing. "Now, you're thinking. I think I might have another idea, then."

"Oh?"

"Yes, I think I have an idea," her father perked on the other side, "Let me make a few calls and then I'll get back in touch."

"Okay, u—"

"In the meantime, (Y/N)," he cut her off, "I'm going to make it especially clear—again—that you need to have your head on straight. You're not making anything easy on anyone when you act like this—myself and Harry included. Stop being selfish and think before you act."

His tone was definite. Everything he said was nothing more than a slightly different variation of everything he'd already told her. She needed to try harder not to make everything her fault.

"I know," she answered, a detached response that had been drilled into her, "I'm working on it."

"Good. Talk to you later."

With that, before she had a chance to utter her own goodbye, her father hung up. Dead air filled the kitchen as she pulled her phone from her ear, slipping the device into her back pocket.

"What was that?" Harry asked, not waiting for her to face him before firing off.

Taking in a deep breath, (Y/N) turned to look at him, fiddling awkwardly in the middle of the small kitchen. "He said he wanted to get you more help—like, more security—, but I was able to get him off that idea. Now, he says he has another idea, but he won't tell me about it until he calls later. He said he had to talk to a few people first."

Unimpressed, Harry hummed in response. His gaze finally focused when it landed on her face, his pupils exacting and calculating. "Does he always talk to you like that?"

That wasn't what she expected of this inquisition. She suddenly felt uncomfortable under his eyes.

"Sometimes," she answered, trying to keep her features a blank slate, "Only when I mess up, though. It's not a big deal, I never listen anyway."

His gaze was unflinching, unwavering. "Are you sure?"

"I'm sure," she said automatically, no longer wanting to speak of her father or his words. "Anyway, I feel like he's just going to open a foundation in my name or something—that's his big idea. He does it every once in a while, just to make us all look charitable."

Harry traipsed his eyes over her form, taking in every detail of her body language and every minute frame of an expression. She felt exposed the longer he watched her.

Eventually—finally, finally—he released her, standing from his station on the arm of the couch with a sigh. "Whatever he comes up with, I'll be there, yeah? We'll work it out together."

Even Francesca, her best friend and closest person, hadn't been able to promise what Harry was giving her. She knew he really would be there with her, every step she took now coming with a pair.

(Y/N) allowed a gentle smile to bloom on her features, watching as he softened some.

"Yeah."

—————

Unable to help herself, still curious to the fact this person had found her Paris address, (Y/N) opened the flap to the newest letter that had been dropped in her mailbox.

The admirer's newest perspective came in high quality photos from the club. There were photos of her dancing with Marc—though his face was marred with markings she was too scared to investigate further. There were photos of her sipping drinks with Francesca and Emma before the night devolved, Harry noticeably cropped from the shots though (Y/N) knew he wouldn't have been that far away. Similar markings to what had marred Marc's face reappeared, this time sketching around her face in rudimentary hearts and shapes. Those made her feel the most queasy.

On the backside of some of the photos, it seemed this person felt they had inside information, claiming to know she hadn't wanted to dance with Marc. They apparently knew she hadn't wanted to go out at all, that she was much too private for this kind of scene and someone had to be forcing her to do this for some reason. It hadn't been her fault that she had stiffed the table (a fact that was far from the truth, seeing as how no one from the club had contacted her or Francesca. Something had to have been worked out). It hadn't been her fault that she left with Harry the way she did, curled into his arms and clinging to him like a vine. She would have never touched him if it was up to her own accord—at least that's what the admirer claimed.

Everything was written in short, messy sentences, barely legible as if written with the author's non-dominant hand. The rest of the story lay in the typed letter she knew was tucked inside the envelope, the musings of someone determined to fit her into the box of their liking.

Her palms felt sweaty as she looked at a photo of her face, the lens having zoomed in to catch the pucker of her lips around the cocktail straw, eyes glazed in alcohol.

How someone had snuck a camera in and Harry hadn't noticed—or at least mentioned it to her—she didn't know. And a part of her didn't want to.

It was easier to ignore this whole thing, she decided. Bundling the pictures back into the envelope, (Y/N) rushed to place it in her room, the bottom drawer of her vanity gaining a new addition.

—————

Staring at her phone, (Y/N) couldn't feel anything but dumbfounded as she reread her father's messages.

Dad

I have a friend from the country club that is interested in taking you out on a date. He's planning on flying out to Paris by the end of the week, and I expect you to go out to dinner with him, to show him and the world why a man like him would be willing to go out with you.

He's a successful philanthropist with a good reputation. I think he's the perfect person for you to get to know, and learn how to behave with. It will be good for you to be seen with him.

Be on your best behavior.

This was not at all what she could have ever imagined his big plan would be. More than a little far off from the suspected charity Gala that would be thrown in her name.

She'd been set up before with the sons of investors and introduced to men he thought would help further him in his dealings. All of those instances had been made in the name of his business—made for his best interests. Never had he set her up with the intention of strengthening her reputation or showcasing her for nothing other than publicity.

Though, from the way her father spoke, she doubted the other man knew it had anything to do with her reputation. As far as he knew, he was being set up with a friend's darling daughter for a romantic evening in Paris.

The thought had (Y/N) cringing.

She was supposed to go on a date? To convince people she wasn't a bitch?

(Y/N) was angry. Uncomfortable. Upset. Anything that was the opposite of happy was pulsing through her veins. What was her father thinking?

Did Harry know anything about this?

Heavy in her middle, (Y/N) wanted to rush to Harry's side, ask him if he knew anything about these plans. If he did, she wanted to assure him that she had no feelings tied to this man or this date—that he was nothing to her mind. She wanted to tell him she didn't want to go on this date, that she was being forced to see another person despite having purely opposite feelings.

She wasn't sure why exactly she felt it was so important to make that much clear, but it was enough to get her off of her bed and out to the living room.

Sitting on the couch, was Harry with a book in his hand, the cover showcasing the name of a famous French designer. He bookmarked his place with a finger as he looked up at her, taking in her shower-softened form and silky pajamas on her form.

"Going to bed?" he asked, the gauzy curtains having been dropped around the windows to the balconies.

Suddenly, she felt a bit silly having bustled out of her room the way she did. What did it matter if Harry thought she wanted to go on a date with this man? Why would he care about who she dated? All he needed to know was where she was going and if he would be needed for security.

"In a minute, but—um—" she started, fiddling with her phone in her hands.

Shifting on the cushion he'd taken up, he narrowed his gaze with a pinch to his brows. Properly marking his spot, he left his novel to be placed at his side, the full of his attention placed on his client.

"Is everything alright? Did something happen?" His gaze skipped over her form, examining for any bit of her that needed his help.

"I'm okay," she assured, shifting on her feet, "It's just..." Harry waited patiently-impatient, unwavering eye contact. "My dad texted me," she blurted.

"Yeah?" he pressed, his elbows setting on his knees as he leant towards her, "What did he say?"

Swallowing, she tried to shrug in nonchalance. "You know how he said he had an idea after those pictures of us at the club?" she questioned, listening for Harry's hum of acknowledgment before continuing, "I guess his side was to set me up with someone he knows from the country club. For a date. This weekend."

Forcing the words through her throat, she watched and waited for Harry's reaction. Though he was much better than she ever would be as keeping a poker face, everything internalized.

"Yeah?" was his only response.

"He said this guy has a really good reputation, with charities and all. He's hoping that being seen with him will help make me look better—PR and all." She struggled around the next bit of information, unwilling to say it out loud as if it would make it real. "I think he really wants me to date him, though—this friend. I don't think he knows my father's setting it up the way he is.

Contemplative and deliberate like always, Harry waited before pressing, "Do you know this man? Or would this be the first time you meet him—for this date?"

"I-I'm not sure who it is, but if I knew him already I think my father would have said so. I think this weekend would be the first time." She was more than embarrassed the more he asked. What kind of child had to be set up on playdates so they learned how to behave?

"This isn't the same man that made you uncomfortable before, then?" Harry's voice suddenly held an edge, recalling Barron at the 132 Gala.

"No, not him."

"Okay," he mused, the gears in his brain almost visibly grinding away as he thought through every and any scenario. "Do y'want me to be there with you?"

The edge of her phone case became the most interesting thing in the room then, her fingers picking at the molding. She swallowed, remembering that trapped, angry feeling she had when she read his messages the first time.

"I don't want to go at all," she started, fitting her bottom lip between her teeth. "I don't know, maybe we could go out this week, and I'll make a scene or something? It could make him mad enough that he calls the whole thing off, and we won't have to deal with it at all."

"No, we're not doing that," Harry immediately intervened, frustration lacing through his tone, "'S not worth him getting upset with you over."

"I know," she told him, a defeated slope to her shoulders, "But, I don't want to go. Especially not with him—whoever he is. I-I'd rather stay with you."

The air softened around them as the words hung between them. Peeking through the fan of her lashes, she caught the easy stare he gave her.

"It's going to be alright, (Y/N)," he assured her, his frustration having melted into something soft and pliable, "I'm going to be there with you."

"I'm sorry," she reflexively shared, her tongue working before her brain.

"What for?"

For going on a date with someone that isn't you.

"I don't know," she answered, "For taking up your weekend with something stupid, I guess."

"And what else would I have done instead?" Harry countered, his tone anything but biting, "Y'act like I'm not here jus' for you."

While she knew he didn't mean it the way it sounded, there was a small hand in her heart that clutched at the idea.

"Don't worry about it for now, yeah? Jus' sleep on it, and we'll take again in the morning. If there's anything else we can do, we'll figure it out then. Okay?"

He was always so in control, the voice of reason she lacked in these moments.

"Okay. Thank you."

"I've got you," Harry answered simply, reaching for his book once more. "Goodnight, (Y/N)."

Sparing one last glance at her bodyguard huddled on the sofa of her Parisian apartment, fashion book in hand, (Y/N) inched towards her bedroom feeling a touch lighter.

"Goodnight, Harry."

—————

s'entendre is a French word for the feeling of understanding someone; to get someone

only a few more parts! thank you sm for reading, sorry for any mistakes, and if you have any ideas or whatever please send them in!

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writingsfromhome · 18 days

Text

Dos and Don’ts IV

A/N: hello my loves this final part to this fic completes the birth of one of my favourite fics I’ve written. Thank you for reading and enjoying it just as much—every like, comment, and dm meant the world <3

Parts: 1 / 2 / 3 / 4

—————————————————

We have an extra day in Barcelona and the team is buzzing to enjoy their nightlife since we could sleep all day tomorrow. I’d visited here while I was a uni student so I give some suggestions.

Harry’s a little on edge the whole time. Earlier today some headline from a musician Harry worked with was taken out of context and thus took the internet by storm. Now he was being flooded with people wanting to know his thoughts and feelings. It was a hot topic.

With a joint effort of me, Jeff, and Graham, we tried to keep the spotlight on his Barcelona show. Well my role was mostly to screen Harry from seeing any further discourse online.

The show itself was one of the loudest I’d been to—I was glad I had my own ear protection. The tense Harry falls away and he’s electric on stage. Even coming backstage he’s on a high; he hugs the crew and thanks everyone like he usually did at the end of shows and disappears into his dressing room with Jeff. They look like they’re talking intensely.

“So,” Sarah slides in beside me. “We noticed you’re a bit different coming back. What’s happened?”

I try to play dumb but the girls keep pushing.

“Me and my fiancé ended things,” I confess. They gasp, Claire’s eyes actually fill with tears.

“Shh!” I shush them. “Keep it on the down low please I don’t want anyone to know.”

“But y/n why are you even here!? Is it because of tour! I’m sure Harry could have rearranged things-“

“No no,” I appreciated their support but I didn’t want to hash things out. “It’s just…I think it was a long time coming. God, I don’t wanna cry. I’m good. For now. And I want to be on tour I need the distraction.”

“I get it,” they sympathize. “We’re gonna make you forget so hard tonight.”

“Okay but don’t,” I look around us to make sure there was nobody else around. “Please don’t tell Harry. Seriously please. I don’t want him to know especially. I don’t want him to treat me differently or something.”

“Lips are sealed.” Sarah zips her mouth. “But we can all tell you’re off. It’s hard not to practically living together these last couple months. If he asks we’ll say…”

“Just say she’s on a break?” Charlie suggests.

“Yeah,” I shrug. “Things are complicated, I’m on a break, whatever that’s fine.”

The girls lean towards me and envelop me in a hug. It reminds me of my friends I’d said goodbye to.

“Thanks,” I say through tears.

And the girls hold me to their promise.

After we get dressed for the night—I chose a corset-style top and trousers—we head out. The sun dips below the horizon and the old city is cast in a warm orange glow that could inspire anyone who set eyes on it. String lights come on and music plays from various doors; the city is alive.

We tease each other about looking so glam as we wander the narrow cobblestone streets. Aside from the shows we all wore sweats and tees.

Every place we pass sets my senses alight. We grab tapas from a place that smells irresistible and chat over each other about tonight’s wicked show. I continue avoiding Harry by sitting as far away from him as I can get.

As we wander off in search of the club I can’t help but feel a twinge at how incredibly romantic the moonlit streets felt.

The club is loud and alive, the noise levels even feel normal after the roar of the last few of Harry’s shows. My mood starts shooting up steadily as I drink in the energy around me.

We join the crowd and I give away my worries and my annoyances to enjoy the music. I feel it in my chest and for a blissful moment I’m grateful for my whole damn life despite everything.

“Cute guy!” Someone shouts in my ear.

Charlie nudges me to one of the guys dancing nearby. “Get distracted!”

I shake my head no.

“Do it!” She cheers. It barely travels to me. She grabs Claire’s hand and tugs her, letting her in on the plan and they goad me into going for it.

I motion a drink. I’d need another shot for the courage.

We trail back to the bar and do a round of shots, and they grin with thumbs up as I hesitantly enter the crowd again.

The dude they pointed out is tall and beautiful. Like beautiful not even handsome. I get stuck looking up at him in awe, he wasn’t really my type. A tad too pretty boy but when he notices me looking he smiles and I’m won over. I couldn’t deny a good smile.

“Hey!” He turns his body to me. At least I think he say hey.

“Hey!” I shout back.

“Que pasa?”

“What?!” I couldn’t hear a single thing. What did I expect.

He smiles and takes my hand that had been anxiously playing with the edge of my top. The other has a hand splint that I’d received in Madrid. Apparently I sprained my fingers.

The stranger wriggles both my hands to loosen them, raising his brow at the splint. I laugh.

He asks in my ear but I don’t understand. It sounds like a question, something bylar. When I scrunch my brows he laughs, “Dance! We dance!?”

“Dance!” I laugh. He was cute! “Yes! I want to dance with you!”

“Vamos,” he pulls me in. I understood that at least.

I used to do this in uni, I think. I should be able to do it again.

He teases me a little because I’m so tense. His hands knead down my back to my waist to get me to relax. It feels nice, being touched by a man that looks like he was carved from marble but filled with music.

I begin to find my rhythm and sway with him, eventually letting go completely. He compliments me as I start to move with him and pretty soon I’ve channeled my 20-year-old self. It feels pretty spectacular.

When his lips ghost my cheek I don’t protest. Right now, I felt good. Everything was on the back burner’s back burner and I felt grounded in this nighclub with this random stranger who was paying attention to me, just me. And it’s just us. And it’s just temporary. And I feel good.

When I turn around, my back to his chest, he moves my hair to the side and kisses down my neck. It felt good.

I run my hand up into his hair and he moves lower murmuring foreign words on my skin, our bodies still dancing in the same language, his hands still gripping my waist and my hips. I feel blissed out.

It ends in a split second.

“What are you doing?” Harry’s suddenly tugging me towards him. His mouth makes the words I just fill them in with his annoyingly bossy voice.

“Hey man,” the guy I’m dancing with tries to get in between us.

“What are you doing!?” I snatch my hand away from Harry.

Harry puts his hand on my partner’s chest and says something to him, maybe in Spanish. He looks at me with puppy dog eyes and I look at Harry. What had he said.

“What did you say?” I ask. I try to call back my dancing partner but he just salutes me with a smile and fades into the crowd. No wait, I’m being dragged away.

“Y/n what are you doing out there?”

“What am I doing?” I shout. “What are you?! I was having a nice time with that guy what did you say to him?”

He walks away, further back into the edges of the club. There’s a few people milling about with a number of them involved in heavy makeout sessions.

Harry turns to face me finally. “You’re engaged y/n, Claire and Sarah said things are complicated at home is that why you’re doing this?”

“What!” I throw my hands up, tears prick my eyes. What the fuck was his problem! Since when did he care? “Why do you care?! Yes, things are complicated and I was getting my mind off of said things—what is your issue? You want to drag me back here and remind me of how shitty things have been?”

“This isn’t the way,” Harry insists. “You don’t even know that guy!”

“Whatever I’m over this convo.”

I turn to leave but Harry grabs my hand, the one in the splint, and pulls me back.

“Sorry,” he lets go of the splint. Then picks it up again. “Look. I’m worried about you. This isn’t you, you’re not the girl that goes home with another guy when your fiancé is back at home! I just don’t want you making any regrets.”

“Oh is that it,” I step towards him so my hand isn’t so outstretched. He stands still but on my second step he inches back. “Since when did you get a high horse huh? Don’t tell me who I am and who I’m not. You barely know me! If I want to make decisions I regret I can do that. They’re mine to make.”

“No. Y/n, as mad as you are don’t go home with a stranger.”

“As if you don’t!” I scoff. “What’s your real agenda here? What’s going on?”

“Nothing!” He insists.

“Why do you suddenly care so much about my chastity?”

“It’s for your own good!”

He’s lying. I know he’s lying and I don’t know why he pulled me away from my beautiful Spanish dance partner but I was actually relaxing and now he’s put me right back into this crazed and tense headspace I kept finding myself in.

Fine, I decide. I could make him regret it.

“Really? You care about my morality that much?” I ask.

With my hand flat on his chest I’ve pushed him further into the wall behind him. He watches me with a guarded look.

But I want him unguarded, vulnerable. The same way he’s made me feel. I lean in, “Are you really worried about the technicalities of me cheating on my fiancé?”

I hover a half foot from his lips. Finally his eyes flicker down to my lips and I know I’ve got him.

I slide my hand up his chest and when my hand inches up the skin of his throat his eyes grow unguarded and heady with lust. He doesn’t push me away. He doesn’t say no.

Hypocrite.

I drop my hand.

“That’s what I thought Mr. Styles.”

I watch for a wonderful moment as the lust clears from his eyes and he realizes what happened. Shame, embarrassment, resignation, and then anger.

I spin on my heel and head away from him. He could deal with the consequences of his actions all on his own.

I’m half-afraid he’ll come after me but luckily I make it out of the club alone.

“He’s such a dick,” I say more to myself. Just to get it out because I’m pissed. “Who the fuck does he think he is!?”

My night is over. I just want to take this all off and forget about it. Maybe I can lock myself in my room and raid the mini-fridge, get drunk and cry myself to sleep. Those seemed like the best options right now.

I take an uber to the hotel. As I walk up to it I notice a weird crowd outside. For nearly 2am I wasn’t expecting this and my instincts kick in that this wasn’t normal. Especially when I notice all the camera straps.

“Excuse me,” I ask the front desk. “Why are there a bunch of paparazzi outside?”

“Is there?” The man behind the counter asks. “Sorry we will tell them to leave. Are you staying with us?”

“That’s a privacy concern out there, and a concern with your staff because they’re here. How do they know who’s staying here?!”

It seems to dawn on him I wasn’t just asking out of curiosity. He promises me he’ll get management. In the meantime I call Jeff and explain the situation. He starts to panic the way I hated, looking for something to blame. He calls Graham who sounds like he’s driving in nascar. It’s a very noisy and over-stimulating conversation.

“Call Harry!” Jeff orders. “Tell him he cannot go back to the hotel no matter what! Fucking vultures man!”

“Y/N,” Graham says in a calmer voice. “You need to go back to where Harry is with some sort of disguise. A hat or sunglasses. That sort of thing-“

“It’s night.”

“Yes night. No glasses. Book the closest hotel you can find. Tell his band they can come back, but to go through the back. They might get spotted but they’re trained on dodging questions. That will keep the vultures there waiting for Harry and we can pick you two up back to the airport tomorrow morning. Where’s after this?”

“Glasgow,” I bite my nail as I think. I had to call Harry asap. What if he was on his way back. “I gotta go now to call him though. Talk later.”

I hang up and call Harry. He picks up the second time.

I explain the situation and he reacts the same way as Jeff, swearing and cursing the papps. I tell him what I was going to do and tell him to go right back into the club. To pass on the word to the team even though I was going to send them a text.

I head up to my room and grab what fits in my bag. I didn’t have Harry’s room key so I decide he’d have to wear my hat and head back out. The vultures stay waiting, now just a few feet further away from the entrance.

I speak briefly to management—I figured Jeff could talk to them and give his classic earful.

On the drive I find a nearby hotel to the club and collect Harry to get him there. We’re too tense to talk when we meet up. Once inside again, I tell him to sit in the lounge while I go up to the desk.

Act above it all, I channel a rich bitch. We needed privacy and we needed nobody to know Harry was here.

“Hi I need a room.” I say.

“Of course, how many night will you be staying with us.”

I glance back to see where Harry sits. He’s in a wingback chair that’s mostly turned away and with his hair stuffed in the baseball cap you can hardly tell it’s him.

“Just a night. I need your best room please.”

“Absolutely,” the woman smiles and I feel bad for only giving a tight-lipped smile back. I wait as she clicks away, finally looking back to me with a slight frown. “So miss unfortunately we are very booked tonight. There are a couple events going on in the city making things very popular.”

“The best room will do. Preferably large.”

“Well,” she hesitates. “A lot of our larger rooms are taken um. I can offer you a bed with one king, it is a bit smaller because it’s by the elevators. I also have one with a queen that is tucked away in the corner with a better view.”

I wanted to be as far away from Harry as possible but by an elevator was asking for trouble.

“Well, I’d rather stay far away from noise so we’ll take the queen.”

“Is that just you or…” she glances at Harry.

“Yes. Two. We’ve had a rough day of travel he’s just resting.”

I hand over ID and my card, trying not to balk at the total. At least I’ll get reimbursed.

“Do you have any bags?” The concierge swoops in as I get the key card.

“No! No. Like I said, bad travel day. We just need somewhere to sleep and we’ll reunite with the bags once they arrive tomorrow.”

They leave us alone after that. I hoped it was because I’d been standoffish enough and not plain weird.

The elevator ride up to the 8th floor is stony and I spend the spare second to text Jeff and Graham the hotel’s address.

The room itself is pretty sub-par and the adrenaline of getting Harry here safely wears off.

I drop my bag by the door and pull out my toiletry bag.

“I don’t have clothes for you to change into, I didn’t have your room key.”

“Yeah. S’fine. I’ll just sleep shirtless unless that bothers you.”

We stare at each other for a tense moment.

“I’m fine with that, you’re the one with the high horse.”

After doing all this for him I wasn’t going to be easy to deal with if he wasn’t going to be easy to deal with.

He chooses to ignore me.

“How the fuck did they know I was staying there? We were under a-“

His phone rings and he answers. Sounds like Jeff.

I use the time to go to the bathroom and finally take off the makeup. I realize I should have grabbed my pjs from my bag too. I take my hair down and massage my scalp with my fingers, letting myself calm down despite the aggressive voices outside.

“Yeah whatever. Keep me updated.” I hear. Great. That was done with.

I leave the bathroom and Harry’s still pacing the floor.

“You’re gonna wear the carpet down if you keep doing that.”

He stops and looks at me, his eyes trail down my body.

“You didn’t bring yourself a change of clothes either?”

“You wish,” I head for my bag again and grab the tee and shorts. “I just forgot them out here.”

“Do you always have to be so snarky?”

Oh, so he wanted to fight. Good news for him, so did I.

“Depends. With you? When you’re being a dick? Yeah. I do.”

“It’s really quite unbecoming.”

“Is it?” I mock his accent. “It’s not proper for a lady to be snarky?”

“I don’t sound like that. You just never let anything go.” He continues.

“I never let anything go?” I repeat.

“Yeah! Ever!”

“What do you want me to let go?” I ask.

“Everything. You’re bothered by everything just let it all fucking go.”

“No like specifically what should I let go?” I turn on him and with each question I stalk towards him. “Being treated like trash by you? Being told I’m replaceable and unnecessary? Getting bossed around about who I can and can’t dance with because you suddenly decide to be the morality police!?”

“Jesus take it down a notch y/n.” We’re fuming as we square off. “I’m not your bloody fiancé.”

“And thank fuck you’re not!” I throw the clothes in my hand on the bed. “You’re my employer Mr. Styles and I’ve been nothing but a good fucking employee for the last year! I try to keep my patience and do everything I can to do my best! You’re the one always trying to blur lines! You’re the one always getting in my damn business when I don’t pay you to!”

With every accusation I poke my finger into his chest and it’s like literally pushing buttons. His face gets stonier and stonier until I’m sure he’s going to crack.

“You wanna know what your fucking issue is?” He swipes my hand away.

“Oh sure tell me, wise Harry Styles who definitely has no issues at all. Tell me.”

“This. This is your fucking issue,” he spits. “You’ve always got such a temper on you! I’m not blurring any bloody lines I check up on you and you get all offended over nothing!”

“Over nothing?” I ask. I laugh sarcastically and walk away from him. I was seeing red. “Over nothing?”

“Yes! I don’t do shite and suddenly you’re trying to bite my dick off.”

“You fucking wish,” I turn on him. “It’s crazy you don’t realize what an absolute jackass you are! We should be refunding all those fans who’ve come out to see you because the man they’re paying for is a fake! You’ve treated me like nothing and embarrassed me countless time-“

“Embarrassed you,” he scoffs.

“Yes!” I go on. “What do you call what you said on our way to Paris huh? You can be so cruel! So if I have a temper it’s justified because you’re one of the worst people I’ve met!”

“What did I say?”

“Are you kidding? You’re going to make me repeat it?” He was crazy. He was depraved and absolutely insane. Or he just hated me.

“I’m not playing a game just tell me!”

“You said I could have skipped the whole tour and nobody would notice.” I say the words that had looped through my head. And of course, he has the audacity to look surprised. “Thanks. A lot! It makes it even worse that you were so casual with your cruelt-“

“You need to stop being so sensitive,” he has the nerve to say. “Then maybe you can manage your temper.”

“I can manage my temper any time but you’re moody like a pre-pubescent teen and that looks to be a lifetime fucking problem!”

“What’s your fucking problem Y/n! What is your problem with me!? Why do you still work for me if you are this angry all the time!”

“I’m not this angry all the time, you just makes me this angry! And I hate you for it!”

“Then quit!”

“Maybe I will!” I had to. After tonight and this blowout I had to. How could I work for Harry like this.

“Great! Then you can take your problems with you.”

“Don’t gaslight me,” how dare he. “You’re not innocent in this! You create my problems and blame me for being this way.”

“Whatever y/n.”

“No.” I wasn’t letting him off the hook. I get in his face again. “Why did you stop me tonight? Why did you keep me from doing what I wanted tonight?”

“What? I told you I was looking out-“

“Bullshit!” I cut him off. “That’s a bullshit excuse, I want to know why!?”

I feel like I’m made of flames and in desperate need of a lobotomy. How could one guy make me this crazy. How could it all revolve around him.

“I was doing it for your own good! But clearly I understand why it’s so fucking complicated with your partner-“

“Don’t you dare talk about him,” I seethe. I was mad. Fuming. I want to get physical, I wish I could throttle him or at the very least access one of the pillows from across the room and smash it to the floor. I want him to see how angry I am because my words are twisted with every angle Harry could find. I wanted him to admit to something he’s been skirting for a long time. “Tell me.”

Harry stares at me with hate in his eyes and I know I have the same look. I wasn’t going to let him get away.

“You don’t even have the balls to admit it,” I poke. “Is this why you’re so hard-headed to anything I say? Because you can’t even admit something like this to yourself?”

“Just shut the fuck up y/n and stop being so mental.”

“I refuse to shut up. I want you to talk.”

His breathing gets faster and I watch him flex his hand. He was as angry as I was. Good.

“You’re a fraud. And I hate you.” I step into his space. Our bodies are a hair’s breadth away from each other’s. I want to show him how mad he makes me. I want to do something. I want him to admit this thing he’s been dancing around. It makes me so mad!

When he starts to shake his head at me I lose it. Instinct takes over where I want to physically show him how angry he was making me. I grab his face in my hands and push my mouth against his. I meet teeth.

But it doesn’t take long for him to respond. To correct the unadulterated anger with purpose.

He pushes back, kissing me harder whilst pushing me against the wall. I feel sandwiched, my chest crushed against his and I bite down on his lip trying to get back some control.

My hands are all over him, grabbing his shirt, running through his hair, pushing under his shirt to touch skin. Harry does the same, pulling at my hair and lifting me onto him.

Our tongues clash together, his hand grabs my ass, squeezing and moving up. His hands feel hot on my skin, his metal rings an icy contrast. Neither of us want to give up control. We keep fighting, just now with our bodies.

“Why can’t you ever just let it go,” he traces his teeth over my collarbone. It all feels too much.

In response I push him back, he stares at me for a heated second before we crash into each other again. We don't care where we are. All that mattered was here and showing the other who was in control. Who hated who the most.

Harry pulls away, his mouth a deep pink from our fight. His eyes are half lidded, his pupils dilated. I can tell he wants this but a part of him hesitates.

"We're doing this," I commit, not taking my eyes off his lips.

"I’m doing this," he growls and lifts me up, any hesitancy washed away. I wrap my legs around him, not thinking about anything but what I was going to do.

He whirls me around and deposits me onto the bed, and his body covers mine while his mouth attack my neck.

He wasn't gentle or slow, but then again, I didn't want him to be. I pull off his shirt, not wanting anything between us, not caring that my nails would leave marks down his back. Leaving something permanent on him sounded exactly what I needed.

I tug on his hair as his teeth come down on my chest. I feel heated as he swears, “Teasing me with this top all night was a fucking sin y/n.”

“Fuck off,” I gasp as he figures out the row of clasps at the front and the icy rings of his fingers presses against my sternum. I grit my teeth, “I didn’t wear this for you.”

His abs contract as he pushes himself back up, his eyes dark as his hands find the clasp on my trousers, undoing them with ease and tugging them off. His other hand comes back up to tilt my chin up.

“D’you really hate me?” He asks.

“Yes,” I respond with zero hesitation.

He moves his body, covering mine with his own again. My breath catches in my throat as he presses his lips to my neck, slowly moving down. He drives me crazy with anticipation and I wriggle up to keep up the pace but he holds me in place. I let out a moan as he kisses my inner thighs, his fingers gripping the tops of them. I'm squirming under his hold, the heat pooling inside of me.

“Do you hate me?” He asks again.

“Yes,” I cry, not wanting to relent to him.

“Good,” he says and that’s the last thing I remember.

The rest is a tangle of limbs, an out-of-body sensation, and seismic wave after wave coursing through my body. It’s unlike anything I’ve experienced before; the fury we felt with each other fuzes to the passion of the moment and it blitzes every damn thought out of my head.

Hours later, or maybe the whole night later—I don’t know but all I do know was that my body was spent and I was barely hanging on.

“I can’t,” I plant my hands on his shoulders and nearly pitch forward just from pausing. His hand splays on my back, keeping me in place as he turns us around.

“Okay?” He asks low.

I nod, grateful that he was taking over.

And after riding out what I know would be my last wave he rolls off of me, and we lay there just trying to catch our breaths.

After a few minutes, I sense him tilting towards me, his eyes on my face. When he stares for so long it becomes obvious, I look back at him.

His eyes are not the same ones that started this mess, they’re breezy meadows of green compared to the icy sea glass from before. But it’s not surprising. With each round and each minute we spent with other tonight, things had grown softer. Not gentle, but softer.

And as we look at each other with the awareness that the anger had bled into the threads of these tangled sheets a long time ago, we’re left with something neither of us want to distinguish. At least I don’t.

His gaze holds something too real for a place like this and I quickly look away and back at the ceiling. I feel his eyes on me a moment longer before he himself turns away to stare at the same ceiling.

“Y/N,” someone suddenly calls my name, tapping my cheeks with a gentle pat. I have to pull myself from the depths of wherever the fuck I just went to open my eyes and look up, at Harry. He looks concerned and asks me a question that I don’t register—I was truly out of it. I must have dozed off.

I push his hand away and grab the closest piece of clothing to wrap around myself in which ends up being a sheet. I take myself to the bathroom to clean up.

I hardly recognize the girl in the mirror. My eyes are blown out and my neck looks like it was rammed by a bull. I can hardly look at the rest of me. I would need to buy something high necked before we got picked up tomorrow morning and use all the concealer I had. I know I marked every inch of him I could find too.

I had never felt that level of passion with anyone. It was unnerving.

My knees collapse under me as I sit on the toilet and try to count the tiles on the opposite wall, just to come back to earth. To my body.

I sense a shadow under the door after I’m in there for a while, I watch it move from one side to the other and then move away. I wait longer, nearly falling asleep there before going back out.

The bed looks a right mess and most of the duvet is twisted to the side. I don’t bother with it, I use the sheet I’m wrapped in and crawl right into bed. Harry seems to have fallen asleep too but as I near sleep I feel the bed dip and the heavy weight of the duvet drapes over me.

I don’t have enough clarity or energy tonight to think about what any of this meant but I know I was right about leaving.

***

We return to London on a Wednesday morning and nearly kiss the ground. Harry was still playing two shows here but getting to go back home instead of a hotel room was enough to make us weep.

I didn’t really have a home to go back to. I’d been thinking about that a lot as the tour took us closer and closer to London. I had texted Gray yesterday and we agreed I could crash there until this weekend to get my stuff together.

London had a metaphorical grey fog over it in my mind. Nothing felt appealing about it and the only thing on my mind these days was home—my childhood home.

I already knew I was going to give in my resignation letter to Harry after tour but I had a 3 week period under contract. I don’t think I could afford a hotel for three weeks and staying with any of my friends is out of the question.

These thoughts kept me preoccupied.

It helped me not to think about that night though. I avoided Harry unless it was for work, returning to the solitude of my first few months working for him. He does the same: curt and avoidant. I know others notice but nobody dares to ask.

It was the most intense thing I’d done in my whole life and that was saying something. There was a way that Harry got under my skin that nobody else could. And it was hard to find a balance after the scales had shifted so far in that direction.

I felt like I had to block it out until I could have space to process it. And yet memories still seeped through when I was quiet for a moment too long or when he’d walk past me with the same cologne as that night and I’d catch a whiff. I was doubly sure this chapter had to close.

When I get back to the flat on Wednesday Gray has vanished as he promised. He told me he’d drop by that evening to talk. Surprisingly, I felt calm about it. I don’t know if it was getting all of that ferocious energy out that had been churning for months, but I feel level-headed and I appreciate the space to myself.

Gray texts me before he arrives. Like this wasn’t the flat he was now paying for alone.

I know what he wanted to talk about—we were all supposed to go to Harry’s last show at the o2 since I had tickets for everyone. Josie was stoked and based on the way she’s been texting me leading up to the day I don’t think she knew. Gray confirms it.

“So,” he rubs the back of his neck. He looked nice in a beanie and corduroy jacket. I wonder if any of the effort was for me, then vanish the thought.

“So,” I echo.

We stand awkwardly across from each other—him propping himself up behind the couch and me leaning against the dining table. Like we needed to get as much furniture between us. Like we hadn’t shared a bed a few weeks ago.

“We should sit?”

“Yeah,” he attempts a laugh and sits on the sofa. I choose the closest chair and turn it to face him. “Yeah. Um, I don’t know how you feel about Saturday. But I haven’t told Josie yet. I haven’t really told anyone.”

I nod, “Me too. Not really. People at work think we’re on a break.”

“Right. Good.” He says. “I’m not tryna lie to people but I don’t really want to get into it…”

“Yeah,” I agreed. “So Josie?”

“I’ll let her know once…once you move out?”

Move out. Of this flat. It’s been home for nearly 3 years.

Gray had surprised me with it when he found it—I had been broke and only been able to pitch in for utilities and groceries but he’d been gracious. He’d been supportive once. But I guess his support had boundaries too. I didn’t entirely blame him for that.

“Sounds good. Or later, maybe when she’s done her exams.”

He leans back on the couch, arms spread over the back and sighs as he studies me. “Yeah of course. I should’ve thought of that. You’re always good at that stuff. She’s gonna be gutted.”

I nod. Not sure what to say to that.

“So you’ll be out on Saturday yeah?” He asks after a while. It seemed both of us had a lot on our minds. But his question stings a little.

“Yep. I’m off for most of the week so I’ll just pack things up. Uhm, with Josie and whatnot I guess we’re still acting like a couple? Will that be weird?”

“Yeah. It will be but we’ve got no other option.”

“Right.” I respond. His voice grows an edge I’m not a fan of. “Well. Thanks for letting me stay here. If you need anything else I guess you can grab it now.”

I want to ask how he’s doing, who he’s staying with, and just hold his face one last time to really remember. But his cold apathy grows like frostbite over the room and creeps into my heart. I always thought where there was love there would always be love but I’m not as sure tonight.

I stay busy and when I can’t sleep at night; I map out a dream, an exit plan home. I write up my resignation letter, I look at flights and rentals and talk things out with my family, I cancel wedding and couple shit, and grieve a fair bit.

On Friday afternoon, my only formal shift this week, I head to Harry’s with an anxious weight in my chest and a buzz in my head from the hope. Hope that this chapter of my life could end soon, and I can head home and recuperate and plan out what my life was going to look like.

Harry’s on a call when I get in. He spares me a glance but I head to the office with my stack of mail. Today was mostly for some housekeeping/admin but I hope to avoid Harry for the most part like I’ve done since that night. My letter sits like a bar of gold in my bag.

I hear him move about the flat. I restock some pantry items, and we speak as little as possible. Going with him to his meeting was my final task for today so I decide it’s a good time to hand in my letter.

I find him sitting in the studio, tapping a pen against the table.

“Mr. Styles?”

“Hm?” He drags his eyes away from his screen to look at me.

“So we’re heading to your meeting in 10. Before then I just wanted to hand this in.”

The envelope stays outstretched in my hand and he eyes it, not taking it.

“What is that?”

“Can you just take it?” I shake it a little, like a bag of treats for a puppy.

His muscles move one inch every ten seconds, that’s how slow he is to sit up in his seat and finally take the letter from my hands. I almost let out a big sigh of relief. The process was finally in place.

“What is it?” He asks again, tearing the corner and down the side like he usually did.

I wait for him to unfold the thirds before answering, “my resignation letter.”

His eyes scan the sheet left to right right to left and when he looks up at me it’s hard to say what he’s thinking.

“Is this a joke?”

“No? Obviously not? I’m handing in my 3 weeks. I’ll also email a copy to Jeff and you.”

“Why are you doing this?” He stands, his tall frame rigid.

“Why? Because I’m…I’m quitting? I think I’ve learned everything I could here a-and it’s time to move on.”

By here I don’t mean working for Harry Styles and co but just here as in London. I’ve learned a fuck ton of life lessons here, and it was time to process them elsewhere.

“Is this to get back at me somehow? I don’t understand,” the papers crinkle in his fist as he grips it tighter. “Do you want a raise? Can we talk about this?”

“No.” I say and even though there’s so much more I could say I think that sums up my answer.

He looks puzzled, then annoyed. Just then my phone buzzes. The car was downstairs.

I grab my laptop and we head down. I was coming along to take minutes and then head home. In the car I reassure Harry,

“I plan on wrapping things up in the next three weeks and making sure everything is set up for an easy transition. I’ll leave continuity notes and reach out to people I regularly communicate with to break the news. The next couple months are pretty easy anyway coming out of tour and going on holiday so there should be plenty of time for the new PA, whoever your hire, to catch up.”

He doesn’t say a word. It reminds me of our first drive to the studio together. How naïve I was. How things changed.

He continues staring out the window, resting his face on his fist. I remember my teeth dragging over that jaw. I blink the image away; this was why I had to go.

When we get to Graham’s office Harry tells Jeff, “we don’t need minutes.”

Jeff looks over at me for answers and I shrug. I guess I came here for no reason but at least I had my laptop to work.

“Uh y/n please come i-“

“She’s fine working out there,” Harry cuts Graham off. Graham looks offended, his gaze drawing between Harry and I. Again, I shrug. I wasn’t leaving today I don’t know why he was acting like it.

For the next hour or so I sit at a spare cubicle and do just as I said in the car. I type out lists for upcoming interviews and studio days. I send emails for information to note for whoever the poor person was to replace me.

I had been keeping the Dos and Don’ts updated over the last year and it feels like a baby the way it came together with so much thought. I was almost sad to part with it.

Nobody tells me the meeting is over. The door simply opens and Harry breezes past.

“I’ll be in the car.” He mutters. Any faster and I would have to hold down the papers around me.

When he’s gone beyond sight, I turn back to the open door.

“What’s the matter with him?” I hear Graham asking inside.

“You keep pushing him,” Jeff responds with irritation. “That’s not his brand Graham.”

“Well that’s a different tune. Prior to this you were singing my praises with these new ideas.”

“I don’t know. Something’s been up with him for…a while-“

“Since that article isn’t it?” Graham references the Harry Styles slander when we were in Spain. Little did they know other things had also happened.

“We dealt with that article.”

Shit, I think. Has he been any different? I think I was keeping too much distance from him to notice.

“Y/n,” my name snaps me out of my thoughts.

“Mhm?” I’m beckoned to the meeting room. “Yes?”

“Find out what’s wrong with him. Or better yet just convince him to be a bit more alive at his last show tomorrow with his usual charm? He hasn’t been his full capacity the last few shows has he?”

Shit. “Um. Burnout?”

The two men look at each other. They make a face like that couldn’t possibly be why. I tell the men what they want to hear, that I’d try to find out and get him back to his charming self (yuck) before joining Harry in the car.

“Jeff and Graham aren’t all that happy with you,” I say when we start driving. Harry was giving me a lift home. “They’re insisting you do it right at your final tomorrow. Be your charming self.”

He grunts in response, head facing the window again. Was he allergic to look forward in the car or something?

“Are you coming?” He asks after a good ten minutes of silence.

“Tomorrow?”

“Mhm.”

“Yeah. I gave my extra tickets to…my fiance,” my brain fumbles my words as it remembers what he was and now is. And the lie I had to keep up. “And his sister and her friend.”

He just nods in acknowledgement, somehow stonier.

When the car pulls up to my familiar building I thank his driver and begin my shimmy out but Harry puts a hand to my knee to stop me. His touch sears right through my stockings and he must feel it too because he slides his hand back.

“Answer this,” he looks at me for the first time tonight. Wow, this really did feel like my first week on the job.

“Sure,” I reply.

“Is it because of that night?”

It’s the first time it’s been mentioned, and his gaze burns brighter than a forest fire. It’s mesmerizing and I can’t look away.

Wait, he wanted an answer.

“It’s because of a lot of things,” I answer truthfully.

He clenches his jaw. Leans back in his seat. The seatbelt reverses to hold him in place again and he’s no longer looking at me. I take that as my cue to go.

***

Josie bursts into the flat dressed to the nines in a groovy floral jumpsuit and boas in her hand. “Don’t worry. I have one for each of us.”

Her friend trails behind her in an equally 70s inspired look.

“That’s what you’re wearing?” Josie judges her brother’s hoodie and jeans. “You’re lowering the vibe Gray do better. Y/n? Why didn’t you brief him?”

“I did!” I eye Gray. “Don’t blame me.”

This was way more awkward than I thought. Or I really was not as good of an actress as I wished.

“What am I supposed to wear?” Gray asks. “I’m not wearing a jumpsuit.”

Josie rolls her eyes. “Y/n please drag him back and find a decent tee or something?”

“Yes ma’am,” I take Gray by the arm and take him back.

“This is kinda weird hey?” I whisper when we close the door.

“I don’t really like it either,” Gray scratches his head. “But it’s for the best.”

I nod and then louder announce, “Well it’s Jo’s night so find something a tad more retro?”

We end up with a red tee and find a belt to tie the look. Josie hugs her brother with thanks when she sees it.

I had on a pair of black bellbottoms paired with a blank tank. My hair was in spacebuns and Josie plucks a few boa feathers to accessorize my hair. It’s cute.

We head off and I have to make a conscious effort to remember my mannerisms with Gray before all this. I feel woozy while I slide my hand into his on the ride there, as Josie snaps our pics on her disposable, as she tells us to get one of us where Gray’s kissing my cheek and she’ll save it to show our kids. It makes me sick.

He keeps an arm on my waist as we walk. I want this night to be over so bad but every time I look Josie’s way I perk back up a little. I wanted her to enjoy this.

And she does. I’m sure she’s lost her voice by the end of the concert. At one point we drift away a little and breathe easier to drop the act but when she’s back Gray wraps his arms around me from behind and we act like a happy couple. Again, I felt sick.

Being in Gray’s arms held none of the spark it used to. I just feel awkward and sad.

At one point Harry looks my way, I don’t know how he spotted me in such a big crowd. It’s between songs and he looks at the group I’m with. I give a pathetic wave and he nods ever so slightly, his gaze sliding off soon after. Gray’s arm tightens around my shoulder and my heart gives a squeeze in response. I’m reminded: this era was ending.

The band told me to meet them backstage at the end, to join in on the final-show celebration. Josie and Gray would wait at a local pub and with the way Josie’s Instagram stories were glowing I could imagine her sitting there uploading it all.

“I couldn’t have done it without any of you,” I catch Harry saying as I slip behind stage with my pass. “I know I’ve not been the easiest to be with but you all sit in my heart. This is our Euro tour, concluded.”

Somebody pops bubbly and I congratulate the whole team as they drink. They insist on going out for proper drinks and I’m denied not going. They tell me to invite my guests to party with them and I know, based on where we were going, Josie was going to flip.

Juniper, a club that gets us all in on Harry’s face card, is opulent and lively on the inside. Josie is buzzing about with her friend—Gray had opted to go home, claiming he had early morning sessions. Josie didn’t think twice about him, but we pretended to go back and forth with a final warning from Gray to Josie to behave.

“He’s a broody one,” Charlie comments on Gray as we chatter while we get drinks. “Sister?”

“Yeah. Doesn’t know yet though so,” I put my finger to my lip.

“So no Barcelona dancing tonight?” Sarah teases. I laugh and tell them to keep me tamed. “We gotta do some shots with the team though where is everyone?”

We gaze around the room and manage to get everyone together. After one round of shots and another that Harry forced on all of us I feel the tension I’ve been carrying with me most days slide away.

We end up sticking together as a group and dance together, laughing and cheering each other on. Even Harry’s in a cheery mood—I suspect the alcohol. I catch him watching me at one point and when I raise my brow he takes my hand and spins me in a friendly twirl. I trip on my wide-legged pants and he catches me from behind. With my back to his chest I have the urge to turn around and kiss him and feel the peculiar comfort I had received from him before. That thought drives me away from him again. Despite the tight knit group there’s too much between us to even attempt being close.

I call it quits when Josie finds me and announces she was going home. I hug the newfound family I had made over the last few months one final goodbye, knowing I might never see them together like this again.

***

Jeff’s reaction to my news surprises me the most. He’s visibly upset and tries to sell me anything to stay. I tell him there was nothing to keep me at my job but I would rely on him for a good reference. I think it’s the first time he’s ever reassured me.

Between Harry and I it remains curt. Sometimes even edgy. I post my own job replacement and Jeff keeps me updated on potential candidates. By the time my last week rolls around I’m host to a roil of emotions.

The first week homeless, Charlie had let me crash on her couch and promised not to say a word to anyone. I didn’t want to overstay my welcome and so I had checked into a hotel and called it home for now.

I’m on my way back home to the hotel after being at Gray’s. We’d invited Josie over for dinner now that her exams were over and she’d been suspicious from the start.

We had told her the truth and she refused to believe it, hurt and betrayal in her eyes as she looked at me and realized she had been kept in the dark for the last week. I felt worse then, than I did when Gray and I called it quits.

I promised her a lunch together this week to talk more. Just because I was out of Gray’s life didn’t mean I had to be out of hers. I thought I could also tell her then that I was leaving to go back home.

On my second last day at work, Harry sends me on an errand near the end of the day. When I get back there’s a small group of friendly and familiar faces waiting to surprise me. I’m touched by the gesture, and I try to corner Harry to say thank you but it feels he avoids me at every chance, always in a larger crowd.

I finally catch him while I’m heading out of the bathroom and he’s heading down the hall.

“Oh hey,” I step in his way. He looks cornered. “I just wanted to say thanks for throwing this.”

“Yeah,” he gestures it was nothing. “It was Jeff’s idea.”

Ouch. I hide the sting. “Well. Thanks regardless.”

He nods, staying mute, but his eyes speak a thousand words—just none that I can read. They stay trained on me, communicating whatever.

Slowly the furrow between his brows eases and the sharp edges of his face give way to a softened expression. I’m scared to move in case I break the trance and don’t get to hear whatever his racing thoughts spit out. Just when it looks like he’s about to say something, a guest turns the corner up the hall.

“Anyone in the toilet?” It was Mitch. Damnit.

“Nope,” I step out of the way, inadvertently brushing Harry. A shiver runs up my spine and I try to act casual but he stiffens beside me. Was it that awful being around me, jeez.

I give up. If he wanted to continue staying moody, so be it. I leave to go back to the party and don’t look back.

My final days in London are hard. The same way I arrived, I go: alone and unsure of what’s ahead.

I always thought here was where I would stay forever. And maybe one day I would return but there was a little too much friction between me and the Capital.

I finish work on an unremarkable note after going through processes with the new hire, and dotting all of my i’s. Harry is nowhere to be seen and I’m gone before he gets back. I’m frustrated that he’s behaving this way but there’s also too much between us for the simple goodbye I yearn for.

I visit all of my old favourites, have one last drink at my old local pub somewhere in between Gray’s flat and Harry’s. I shed a lot of tears on my pilgrimage through the city’s veins. I promise the paved and cobblestone roads I would be back one day.

The walls of my lungs ease open on the flight home. Still, tears cascade down my face silently as the plane sleeps. Eventually I do too. When I wake the sky is filled with bright blinding sunrise, and American soil peeks out below me: I was finally home.

••••••••••••••••••••

Present (2 years on):

My heart flutters seeing Harry here, I chalk it up to anxiety. But it annoys me that despite all the distance and the growth, he still had an effect on me.

Harry’s head turns and before I can be smart about it our eyes lock. His eyebrows raise ever so slightly before his face falls into a nonchalant facade again. I don’t even want to know what my face looked like.

Then he gets the nerve to smirk, hang his head, and then grab his drink and walk towards me.

“If I had a cross I would be holding it up right now.” I have to shout a little so he hears me before he gets to me. He was an emotional vampire feeding on all of mine.

“Now why’s that?” He continues towards me. My emotions swirl through me. “I thought time heals all wounds. Why the unfriendly welcome Mrs. Duran?”

I grit my teeth at the name, he was still filled with poison. “Right, the timeless wisdom of clichés.”

“I like to think I’m pretty timeless.” He smiles.

“I’ve found that time may heal wounds, but scars make sure you never forget.”

“Well, scars aside, you look good,” he moves on and I feel like an idiot the way I was used to feeling around him.

“Of course I do.”

“What are you doing in London? Last I checked I was getting a reference check from America.”

I debate not answering him but I was trying to straddle the line between indifference and confidence. It was like walking a tightrope.

“I’m in London for a little while,” I give vaguely.

“Ah,” he smiles and damnit I forgot how handsome he could be. How handsome could then turn into seductive so quickly. I had to remember: Still a devil. “Are you looking for a new employer? Because I could be hiri-“

“No.” I cut him off. “I finally have a job I love so I’m good.”

Something flickers in his eyes but surprisingly he stays quiet.

“What are you doing here?” I ask. I sort of wish I still had a drink in my hand, they feel awkward and clunky and I want to avoid playing with my hair. Gah. “Global star drinks alone at his local bar?”

He laughs but I can tell I hit a minor nerve. “Here I’m just a local. Always have been—it’s nice to be anonymous for a little bit.”

I roll my eyes. I didn’t believe that for a second. He loved his fame and everything that came with it.

Plus I used to come here all the time, I would’ve known if my employer was a local too. He was lying for some reason.

“Mr. Styles if there’s one thing I remember about you, you’d choose death over anonymity.”

“Firstly,” he leans in and I get a whiff of his usual cologne with a hint of malt. “A person can change a lot. So maybe you don’t know me as much as you think you do-“

“Oh I don’t think anyone can change that drastically in only a year-“

“You seemed to have.”

His words take mine out of my mouth. I hadn’t changed, not really. I’d always been this y/n but the further I got away from him the more reassured I had gotten being that y/n.

“And secondly,” he continues before I could think of a response. “You no longer work for me. Harry is fine.”

The smile he throws me is almost sweet if I didn’t know the cruelty that could hide underneath. I don’t return the smile, I only raise my brow and look back down at my phone. My cell service hasn’t gotten any better and I’d missed the wifi password.

I could connect to Harry’s wifi, ask him so that I could order an uber.

I’d rather van gogh my ear.

I weigh all my options and consider the last one again. I look up to see what Harry was doing in the silence and find him looking at me. A shiver runs up my spine as our eyes clash. So much history and words unspoken fall in between. A very specific night flashes through my mind. I wonder if it does him because he looks down first. Damn.

“So I’ve gotta get going,” I say.

“Let me buy you a drink.” He says at the same time.

He laughs awkwardly and repeats, “One drink?”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“Why not?”

“We’re not drinking buddies.” I pull my purse to my chest, wanting to hop off this stool and run home if I need to. Put as much distance between myself and this man that was put on this earth to confuse me.

“Then what are we y/n?” He asks, his voice silky smooth as he leans in. The voice that whispered sweet nothings into my ear in my worst nightmares, nightmares of cotton sheets and heated limbs, of passion and shame.

“Ex-employer,” I point to him. I point to myself, “Ex-employee.”

“Exes have drinks together,” he grins full well knowing the double meaning.

“Never ends well,” I eye the door.

“Just as stubborn as I remember.”

“And you were saying people change?” I raise my brow.

He drops the smile and sighs, “I’m not gonna be able to convince ya am I?”

I shake my head. He should know that by now.

“Can I walk you out at least?”

I shrug, couldn’t hurt.

“What is this?” I ask as he opens the door for me.

“What?”

“This? Why are you trying to be so friendly?”

“I thought we could be friendly exes.”

And when did he get so cheeky.

“Something weird is going on,” I watch him stay in step with me as I walk up. With no service I was going to take the tube. “And I don’t like it.”

“Nothing weird is going on don’t get all paranoid on me.”

“Don’t call me paranoid! You never call a woman paranoid.”

“I thought that was conspiracy theorists?”

“Nooo. You’re being weird.”

"Alright, no need to get all Freudian on me. Just trying to be a decent human here."

I shake my head, somehow in our exchange my face had decided it was okay to smile. To forget what he put me through and remember instead that when things were good between us we actually got along.

Damnit. The devil knew how to play tricks. I wipe the smile off my face while he continues walking with me.

“So…what have you been up to?” He asks.

“Working, you know me.” I say after trying to figure out what his angle was but unable to find one.

“Oretta Smith I hear, how did you manage that?”

“I’m just that good Harry,” I say. His name is weird in my mouth. Sure I called him that in my head but I usually used Mr. Styles. I can tell he feels the same with his quick glance my way.

“How do you like that?”

“Yeah, she’s a great employer like I said. Very professional. Lots of flexibility.” Each praise is a knock to his ego. But it was all true, plus with Winnie joining the team I had a friend my age that felt great.

But there was also a darker side called burnout that I barely admitted to myself. Ever since we landed in London and I had time to orient my new self in a city that molded my old self, I felt the familiar singe of purposeless. But I keep it to myself of course.

“Great.” Harry responds curtly. “What about yourself? How’s your life, are you finally married?”

My instinct is to raise my defences and chew him out, he must know Gray and I were done what with me living in the States.

And yet, when I peer past the defences and take a long hard look at him I realize he is asking earnestly and without another angle.

We’re nearing the tube now. I hesitate in lying or telling the truth.

“We broke up,” I choose to confess. I peek at him and he looks surprised, even sorry.

“I didn’t know. Sorry.”

“I’d hope not,” I reply. “Otherwise you’d be an asshole calling me Mrs. Duran.”

He huffs an awkward laugh.

“Anyway this is me—

“I can give you a ride home—wherever that is right now?” He asks.

We’re stood in front of the glass doors. There’s not a lot of people this time of night. And as tempting as his offer was, the way he looks at me right now sends poisonous butterflies to my stomach and I think it’s best I get home for the big day tomorrow and not make any regrets.

“I’m not too far,” I lie. I point a thumb to the doors behind me. “I’m just gonna…”

“Yeah. Yeah right.” He’s awkward, which is a first. He clears his throat and stuffs his hand into his pocket. I watch him with a removed sort of curiosity. Eventually he coughs out his question. “How long are you in London for?”

“A few weeks,” I reply.

He finally meets my eyes again—and there goes my stomach. He was supposed to have zero effect on me, I was supposed to stay mad at him. Why was my body betraying me? Why did it continue to loop memories from that night and remind me of the things he whispered in the dark?

“A few weeks,” he murmurs back.

His gaze travels over my face openly, no longer holding back the barely-hidden expressions from before. Because I told him Gray and I weren’t a thing? Because I was entertaining whatever bullshit this was?

“Yep,” I nod. Awkward. Nervous. Cautious.

“My number’s the same,” his eyes snap back to mine. “If you want to go for that drink later.”

“Harry,” I try to break it to him another way. I wish I could just say I never want that drink. “I don’t think-“

“Don’t think,” he cuts me off. He laughs when I furrow my brows. “I mean, I’m right here for most of the next few weeks. When you feel like you want to have that drink just give me a call. Or text.”

Why, I want to ask him. Why, after all this time, after everything that happened? And it’s like he reads my mind in the silence.

“I know you left on a pretty poor note.” He shuffles his feet. “I know a lot of that was my fault. I apologize for that. Um, but I did enjoy having you around. You were excellent at your job and…you are missed. Even Jeff remembers you fondly. Which is saying something.”

This was some sort of prank. Or Harry had gotten so famous he now had a doppelgänger roaming the streets as him. It couldn’t be that Harry, my Harry, would say something so sentimental and so…genuine.

“So uh yeah, I would love to see you again while you’re in town.” He says when I don’t respond.

“Right.” I choke out.

He shrugs when I can’t bring myself to say anything more. “We do change, whether you believe it or not y/n.”

I swallow, hoping to lubricate my vocal cords and find my voice. “I-I really do have to go.”

Crestfallen, he nods. His hand comes up to touch my elbow. “Yeah ‘course. Just…think about it?”

I look down at his hand and he lets go, we stay in another bubble of silence. His eyes flicker down to my lips and I feel a wave of warmth as I try not to do the same.

“Goodnight,” I blurt and get to the other side of the glass doors. He watches me go.

On the escalator down I risk a glance back and he’s still there, watching until I’m out of sight. That ended incredibly awkward.

Leave it up to Harry to confuse me in coming back into my life. Damn him, he could never be consistent.

***

Waking up super early to catch the train out to Cambridge is so worth it because I get to watch Josie walk the stage and graduate with distinction wearing her famous smile that beams over the vast room.

Despite what happened with Gray and I, Josie and I have kept in touch steadily over the last year. It started as weekly facetimes which reduced down to monthly calls and have now become a steady stream of texts and memes swapped back and forth.

When she found out I’d be in London around her graduation dates she gave me no choice but to show up, sending me a ticket without asking.

I knew I’d see Gray, and a part of me was nervous and curious how that was going to go. But mostly I was grateful to still be in Josie’s life and spend time with her in person. She was the part of this life I missed most.

I’m sat somewhere in the middle of the room and Josie was smart enough not to seat me with the rest of her guests. But I know I would see everyone during photos and the dinner we were having later on. I try keep my focus on the ceremony however.

“Y/N!” Josie rushes towards me when she sees me after the ceremony. The group she departs from I recognize is a mix of her girl friends, her family, and a few others.

“Josie!” I return the same energy and she leaps into my arms. I squeeze her tight to me. “I’m soo proud of you my girl.”

We sway side to side, until we get enough hug.

“Look at you!” She exclaims when she leans back. “Your hair looks amazing and you are glowing. Please tell me you have a boy in your life.”

“No,” I laugh.

“A girl?” She asks hesitantly.

“No! I’m just…happy where I am right now! How about you look at you! You look phenomenal as per.”

“Oh thanks,” she takes the compliment and giggles. “I asked my dad to grad gift me a salon and spa visit so I am rejuvenated and blown out.”

“Aren’t you ever,” I touch a lock of her hair. “Congratulations.”

“Eek!” She squeals. “Finally finished this hellscape! I can’t wait to never write an exam again—ooh wait I want you to meet my boy…”

“So that’s why we’re actually glowing,” I tease as she tugs me towards the group. That definitely has Gray. My stomach drops the closer we get, he doesn’t seem to notice. He looks busy talking to one of Josie’s friends.

“Anyway,” she deposits me in front of a 6 foot something guy made of angles. “This is Jax. My boyfriend. We met during a Friendsgiving Myles threw last year.”

“Nice to meet you,” Jax smiles. “Y/N right?”

“Yes!”

“I was supposed to get around to that,” Josie huffs.

“Sorry she talked about you a lot when she found out you were coming. She was really excited.”

“Ugh,” she turns to me like she was embarrassed but her face is glowing. Josie was in looove.

“You two are so cute,” I tease which just makes Josie blush a little harder. “So are we getting any pictures?”

“Oh yeah,” Jax swivels his head. “Liliya has the good camera if you want to get-“

“Oh we can use our phones,” Josie cuts him off.

“No get the high res one—Liliya, camera?” Jax motions a shuttering action to the friend Gray was talking to. He’s so tall above the crowd that both look up at him and comply.

“Y/N,” Josie drags my arms back and takes me on the outskirt of the crowd. “I’m so sorry I never mentioned because I thought you wouldn’t come if I did tell you but you-“

“Y/N?”

Josie’s rushed whispers are cut short when Gray notices me and calls my name. He looks stupefied. I spare a glance to Josie and she’s paled.

She didn’t tell him.

“Hey,” I force a friendly tone. I was going to kill that girl.

“Did you all want a photo?” Josie’s friend Liliya shoulders her way back into the circle with the camera on a strap. She turns to Gray, “Babe?”

It’s an odd sensation, like all oxygen has left my lungs and they’re being squeezed as if tightened in a vice. Gray’s eyes drag away from me to his…girlfriend? Definitely not Josie’s friend.

It shakes me in the moment how much I realize I still cared, still carried a shred of hope for…something. And not consciously knowing this makes this moment feel a little like a slap in the face.

What did I think? I was going to leave this country for a year and people were going to pause where I last left them? Of course Gray’s moved on. Aside from the end he was a great partner and anybody would want that.

These thoughts race through my head in the few seconds Gray responds to his girlfriend and I look at Josie. She looks guilty as charged.

“I tried to tell you just now?” She whispers.

Deep breaths, I remind myself. You’re not the hot-headed y/n these people knew last. This day is not about you. It’s about Josie.

“It’s cool. Let’s get some photos,” I smile. “Don’t want to miss having them with you.”

She sighs but keeps her eyes on my face as we walk farther out.

“I am really sorry,” she whispers.

“Hey it’s alright,” I lie. This was the worst of it—Gray had moved on, had a great girlfriend, and I was living the life I wanted. No harm and no foul. “Honestly Jo I get it, you wanted me here reallllly bad.”

“I did!” She says. “But I’m also gonna kill Jax.”

I laugh and we straighten up when we realize the camera was already pointed at us. Josie flashes her degree and a few of her friends join the pictures too. We hustle back to Gray to see them and flipping back on the first few makes my breath catch in my throat. There’s one in particular where Josie is turned to me talking and my mouth is in a big grin because I’m laughing.

I catch eyes with Gray in an uncomfortably intimate second.

“Send me that one for sure wow Gray that’s a really good shot.”

“Oh wow,” his girlfriend peers over. “That’s a great candid.”

“Yeah,” I agree. I’d love a copy too. And of course that’s when Gray’s girlfriend notices me and introduces herself.

“I don’t think we’ve met—is that an American accent I detect?”

“It is,” I smile. “I’m Y/N.”

“Oh!” Two spots of pink appear on her face. It seems she’s heard of me. “Well it’s nice to meet you—nice that Josie invited you! I’m Liliya but Lily works too.”

“C’mon!” Josie interrupts the awkward by grabbing her brother’s arm and pushes him in the direction of where her friends are posing for photos. He takes some shots but Josie hates the look of them and gives the camera to Lily instead.

With just Gray and I left behind it grows very awkward.

“I thought Josie told everyone I would be-“ I say just as he says, “I didn’t realize you would be-“

We stop and chuckle awkwardly.

“Sorry,” I shake my head.

“No,” he shrugs. “It’s cool. It’s cool you’re here actually.”

“Okay,” is all I can say. Until the awkward silence stretches. “So…Liliya?”

“Yeah. Yeah, Liliya. You?”

I want to lie, but I shake my head. “No. Sorta needed the year to breathe a little.”

“Fair. How’s America?”

“Oh y’know, still super-sized and politically a guessing game.”

“Have you turned on our news while you’ve been down at all?” He raises a brow. I laugh because he was right. It was all a shitshow everywhere.

He asks me about my family as Josie jogs up to us.

“Okay, tell me the truth is my hair going flat?”

“No,” I look behind her where her friends are hovering over Lily and the camera going over their photos.

“Good. Where’s mum and dad?” Josie asks Gray. “Dad was just here 10 minutes ago he said he’d come by for—oh there’s mum! Look!”

We turn to where she points. Michelle—what I’ve always called Gray’s mom, spots her daughter at the same time and waves. She starts to walk towards us.

It’s nice to see her but I also feel a bit nervous; going cold turkey on relationships you only had because of an ex are always weird to come back to. Especially ones you were fond of.

“Mum! You’re missing all the pictures!” Josie says. “Where’ve you been!?”

“I just saw somebody I knew back from my first job as a librarian can you believe that?” Michelle says as she joins the group.

“Crazy. Well mum look who got to show up today! Isn’t that crazy too?”

Michelle looks at me and the bright smile that was intended for her daughter dies like a flower in overnight frost. The look wipes the anticipation off my face.

“Who?”

That one word shades the sun from the sky and brings forth a gust of western winds through the group.

“Mum,” Josie look between me, her mum, and Gray. She’s confused. “Y/N?”

“Hey Michelle,” I croak. Maybe my hair was too different for her to recognize me, or maybe she had early onset alzheimers. Surely this woman who I’ve had a better relationship with than her own son has wouldn’t be treating me like your worst frenemy at your high school reunion.

But Michelle looks right through me. I can’t explain how it feels, not in the moment. I’m gutted, and feel an unexplainable wave of sadness.

“Mum…” Josie sounds hurt and Gray finally decides to swoop in.

“Mum let’s check out the photos we took already. We gotta get some of the three of us.”

They walk away and I feel seven inches tall but I turn to Josie with a brave face and face her teary one.

“That was kind of awkward,” I downplay.

“Y/N I’m honestly so sorry I-,” Josie blinks rapidly.

“No it’s ok!”

“I don’t know why she acted like that-“

“Hey It’s natural for her to feel that way I’m alright don’t get upset-“

“It’s not alright though! That was such a…she never acts like that.”

It was true. Michelle was a free-spirit as she called herself. That’s why Gray had such a hard relationship with her; in his words, she was too emotional and ungrounded for him.

Yet apparently, she was able to find enough ground to stand on when it came to treating me like a nobody. I wonder if it’s because she heard Gray’s biased side of the story or she was hurt herself—still, the way she’s always talked about herself never struck me as someone who would believe a one-sided story. Or be a bitch to someone they previously called their daughter. It hurt like a mofo.

I didn’t want Josie to find out this way, here of all places, that her mom was just human after all. She idolized that woman.

So even though it hurt, I comfort her instead.

“She probably just feels betrayed by me leaving and stuff since we were close too. Imagine if Jax broke up with you and she gave him the cold shoulder—wouldn’t you feel justified?”

Josie scrunches her brows to think about the simplified story I’ve just fed her to feel better. I can tell it still doesn’t sit well with her but she nods in acceptance, “I guess.”

“Yeah, just forget it Josie. Plus you’ve got pictures to take so dry those eyes.”

“Shit I know,” she blinks some more. “I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to invite you here and twist the knife at every bloody turn.”

“Jo I’m honoured to get to be here and see all your hard work pay off. Don’t worry about anything else.”

“It’s unfair,” she says before she drifts to her group of friends. “I feel like nobody understands how…how understanding you are. But I’m really glad we’re still in touch. And you came for me.”

Her words bring tears to my eyes and I nod, afraid that talking would bring them forward. I watch her crash her group and start instructing photo coordination. I help hold things for people while they take photos and feel like a stranger outside the crowd. If it weren’t for Josie, I think I would have regretted coming here. I feel homesick and unwanted. A tough combo.

I was supposed to crash on someone’s couch tonight and do brunch with Josie tomorrow before going back to London but from the last half hour alone I know I’m going back to the city no matter how late it gets tonight. I think of the hotel room that was home right now, of how lonely that was going to feel to go back to too.

Home right now was in America, in the same time zone as my family, and comfortable in my shared apartment with one of my high school best friends who I reconnected with after going back home. I miss it so bad. And I feel like I’ve bitten into an unripe fruit coming back to the UK before I was ready apparently. My experience feels soured.

I shake off the doom and gloom when the party breaks. We were all going to meet at the restaurant at 6–my plan was to explore the university city and find a place to kill some time in. Maybe go outside to a park with lunch. Josie tries to convince me to join her and her friends for their mid-day celebration but I lie and tell her I had some work to do.

I call Winnie on my stroll through the city. I insist she update me on last night first, and she has more to tell—the guy had a yacht and he was inviting her to a party tonight. She tells me to join if I came back early and we cross our fingers that Oretta wouldn’t need her before then.

I originally called her to rant about Michelle and Gray but I don’t, I didn’t want to kill her vibe. So I scroll through my other contacts but don’t want to worry my mom and it was too early back home to reach anyone else.

My eyes catch on Harry’s name, he was at the top of my texts currently because he sent me a link this afternoon asking me for thoughts on it. I hadn’t opened it yet, I wasn’t sure what to think about this new persona he was wearing or that he thought yesterday’s run-in went okay enough to casually message me for my thoughts.

I remember the weird electricity of yesterday and shove my phone back into my pocket.

He genuinely wanted to have a drink? And talk??

I did enjoy having you around. You were excellent at your job and you are missed.

Was he trying to make up for his cruel words? But he also seemed a lot more mellow than before. Maybe that was just because I didn’t work for him. What did he want? And was I twisted for believing the new schtick?

Most curious of all was him at the pub in the first place. He was not a local there—that was a big lie.

I try to conjure up my previous hatred, calling him the Devil in my head. But it’s harder to do. Seeing him yesterday, he was just a man standing in front of a woman with a head full of cautionary tales and bad experiences.

Without warning images from that night come back and I feel my heart flutter. I shut them down just as quick. Not all bad, my body tries to remind me. I tell it to shut up.

I’ve barely stepped foot in this country again and already my mind was running circles around my heart. How exhausting.

***

I’m early to the restaurant, before anyone else apparently. As the hostess finds my name on her floor plan Josie comes in behind me with Jax.

“Oh! Y/n you’re early!” She seems flustered.

“Yeah I didn’t think I would be,” it was only a few minutes to 6.

We make small talk while we’re led to the table, Josie’s eyes keep darting to where our table might be.

“Sorry I was hoping to do this before you came,” she says when we get there. There are name cards along the 7 seats and she picks the one in front of me. “I’m just gonna move mum to my other side so it doesn’t get weird. Which means she’ll be closer to dad but…I think he’s bailing since his girlfriend doesn’t want to do this.”

Josie shrugs, I know how she feels about her dad’s girlfriend. She begins explaining the plans she has to do dinner with her dad later this week and the more she talks the more I can tell that she feels awkward. And I hate that it’s because of me. At one point Jax and I catch eyes and pass an awkward smile.

“Josie,” I walk up to her fiddling with the name tags. She stops talking immediately. I grip her shoulders. “Thanks.”

“Sorry,” she whispers. I wrap my arms around her and she melts into me.

“Stop apologizing.”

“Sorry. I can’t help it. It’s a disease.”

We let go with a laugh and she seems more stable. “This is going to be fine.”

Famous last words.

It’s definitely not fine and very awkward. Jax ends up sitting in front of me, and even though Liliya’s name tag was beside mine it’s suddenly swapped as they slide in and Gray sits beside me. I guess it might be too awkward for her but not awkward enough to fit someone we both dated between us.

I can sense Michelle’s pinched face as she notices us sitting beside each other and I feel badly for Josie the most as she tries to play the gracious host. At one point I sense Jax laying a hand on her arm and taking over, asking Michelle questions about her yoga and getting her talking.

“Did you need more?” Gray turns to me with the wine bottle, it’s the second thing he’s said to me tonight. Otherwise he mostly just watches me talk and leans back enough when others are talking so I can be involved.

“I’m okay,” I whisper. I didn’t want to draw any attention while Michelle was talking. She hadn’t said a peep to me, even when Josie tried to involve us both in a shared memory. She continued acting like I was Casper the ghost.

I can feel Lily’s eyes on us as Gray offers wine, of course they would be. No wonder Gray barely spoke to me all night. Fuck me, what was I doing here.

Jax is a sweetheart, asking me about my job and encouraging conversation between the both of us. I’m so happy for Josie that she found a partner like him.

By the time dinner is over I mostly want to cry. I feel spent. But I also feel like I crashed an intimate dinner and everyone’s polite enough not to mention it. Despite Josie, I do actually regret coming.

As we pay the bill and shuffle out, Josie grabs my arm.

“So I have two friends where you can crash at their place or Jax can sleep over at mine and you can sleep at his or-“

“I think I’m gonna head back to the city.”

Her face falls. But it’s like she knew I was going to say that.

“Sorry Jo. I think you should come to the city next week—maybe visit your brother? And while you’re down we’ll do brunch then. I’m mostly free while I’m here. I’m just pretty tired and have to help Winnie with something tomorrow.”

“Really?” She says in the smallest voice I’ve heard out of her. Salt to my wounds.

“Yeah, I’m sorry. I know we were looking forward to getting time together.”

She juts out her lip and I’m reminded of the girl I met when I first started dating Gray. How she’d taken to me so quickly. How the whole family had. How things could end up like this.

And suddenly I see the future laid out in front of me. After tonight it would be hard to keep this relationship going—Josie and I. She’s just seen her mom be an unreasonable bitch for the first time, I can tell she’s been trying to compensate all night but the cracks won’t go away. It’ll always be a sitting duck between us.

We might try to stay in touch, maybe I’d reach out if I was ever in London or if she ever visited the west coast. But this would fizzle out.

She was still young and naive enough that her mom hung the moon and stars; mom’s beliefs were gospel, her opinions were rulings, and she’d just delivered my ultimate sentence: I was a black sheep to the family. How could sweet Josie walk through a mess like that?

“I’m so proud of you,” I tell her as I fight tears. “Congratulations again and thank you for inviting me.”

“Thanks. And you don’t have to be so nice. I know it was kind of a shitty invite.”

“No,” I insist. “I loved being here. I don’t regret showing up for you. I can’t wait to hear what you get up to.”

“I’m going to make sure to make it to the city next week,” she squeezes my arm. “We’ll see each other soon.”

“Exactly,” I look over at the rest of the group, where her boyfriend waits for her. Her family. “And I really like Jax, so good on you for that.”

“He…” she twists her lips, swallowing what she was going to say before vomiting it out. “I always aspired to have a relationship like yours and Gray’s. I never wanted to settle for anything less so that’s…that’s why Jax.”

“Hm I think you made us the bar and you leapt over it babe,” I wrap my arms around her again. I ache with the loss of what we used to be.

“See you soon,” she says before she drags herself back to the group.

I stand off to the side, awkwardly ordering an Uber. The group begins to walk the opposite way waving bye to me. I breathe easier without the weight of them around.

As I tap my foot in anticipation of the ride to the station arriving, I feel a hand tap my shoulder.

“Y/n,” it’s Gray. “Hey I…I just wanted to say something before you left.”

“Oh. Hey yeah. Shoot.”

What was it with everyone wanting to say something to me.

“Uh…ok give me a minute,” he laughs in the way I know to mean he was feeling nervous. “I just sort of jogged back impulsively.”

“Yeah well you have,” I glance at my phone. “4 or so minutes.”

“Damn,” he ruffles his hair. “Alright. I think I just wanna say sorry.”

“Oh.” That was it. Everyone had something to say to me and the something was apparently sorry.

“Yeah I’m sorry. I…when we broke up I was so upset and caught up in my own head. I blamed you for everything. I think it only hit me when you just up and moved out of the country how things actually went down.”

I hadn’t told anyone but Josie that I was leaving.

“Yeah you were just like gone.” He continues. “I guess a part of me thought we’d get some space, maybe circle back later…”

“You really betrayed me,” I remind him.

But even I know what he means. He hurt me bad and it might be crazy stupid but on some level we were both aware we were in an ugly place and maybe with some space we might come back to the place that was good for us again. Maybe bump into each other one day, strike up a conversation, find there might still be a small amount of love left. Enough to water and grow again.

“I know,” he sighs. “I know. I hate that I hurt you like that. I regret…I actually don’t really hang out with that group of friends as much anymore. I sorta have myself to blame but I didn’t like who I was with them.”

I listen, letting him speak. It hurt too, knowing this was the Grayson I had fallen in love with. Kind and supportive, and now apparently he’s learned to communicate. Maybe that was a Lily thing.

“I guess,” he blows the air out of his cheeks. “I want to say I’m really truly sorry. I missed you a lot after you left. Nothing was the same and life was fucking hard. I wish things didn’t end the way they did and I stayed mature but I was just jealous and angry.”

I nod to acknowledge what he’s saying and watch him take a breath to continue.

“And I always appreciated how you never let us shake your relationship with my sister because she bloody loves you—I don’t think how mum treated you was right today but I never really understood her in the first place. I’m sorry about that.”

“Yeah,” is all I can manage without making it obvious how emotional this was all making me. How one year could make me feel like a completely different person. How this man I loved, and still love in some way, could stand in front of me talking about us as something in the past. Because we were. Long past.

My phone dings with a notification that my ride would be here. We glance down and out into the street.

“Anyway,” he swallows. “I just wanna apologize. And say I genuinely hope you find love y/n. Love that’s as fierce and loyal as you are. I hope you can forgive me one day. And I hope you’re successful as hell in whatever you pour yourself into.”

“Thank you Gray,” I want to say I was sorry too. For what it was worth. But my car pulls to the curb.

I wave at the driver to let them know I’d ordered it and we walk the few feet to the back door.

I face Gray and open my mouth to say it. Say something more: how I appreciated his words, how I was sorry for how things ended too, how I hope he is happy. But nothing comes out of my mouth. I just stare at him, my eyes welling with tears instead.

Gray holds out his hand and I look down at it. I knew those hands well and it’s like walking into a place you used to frequent in the past and have memories rush towards you as you remember: those hands held me and wrapped around my own and comforted me, they made me food and stroked my hair, and carried my bags when they got too heavy. They once wore an engagement band I gifted, they once held a small box with a life-changing question I had said yes to.

Now it was just a hand.

I clasp it and he squeezes.

“I know,” he says, his eyes trained on my watery ones. He squeezes again and lets go.

I rush into the car, those two words nearly cracking me in half. I wave goodbye through the tinted window and feel a wave of despair that pulls me down into the depths of darkness.

Too much was happening at once.

My emotions spiral out of me and I feel alone in this foreign country; I needed comfort where none could be found.

I don’t mean to. Or maybe I do. But on the train back to London I text Harry: is it too early to cash in on the drink?

His response is immediate: no, I was waiting for this text last night

I smile, despite myself.

Can I come over? I text with shaking hands.

H: For drinks?

Y: For drinks

H: Ofc.

***

The taxi drops me in front of the familiar building. I feel an echo of anxiety pierce through me as I go through the familiar doors. I nod at the concierge, the night replacement was new and I’m grateful nobody can recognize me making this potentially stupid decision.

For a brief second I wonder if Harry had other plans tonight but decide not to overthink it. He’d invited me openly. And maybe I was making a decision based on sadness and loneliness and grief and needing to be wanted but I make it. And I would make it like a grown woman—ready to accept the consequences.

I didn’t want to go back to my lonely hotel room. I didn’t want to call anyone and talk about what just happened. I didn’t have words. My body was taking the beating, feeling everything under the sun and now bruised and battered for it. I just wanted my body to forget that. And there was only one person in this godforsaken city that could help.

I’m let up to the penthouse and I forgot it had a distinct smell, wood-like and something indescribable. Weird that it felt comforting.

“You made it,” Harry comes into view in a simple pair of shorts and a long-sleeved white tee pushed up to his elbows. It’s the sleeves that really do it.

“I did.”

I leave my bags beside the elevator next to the umbrella stand, keeping my eyes on him. He doesn’t take his off mine either. I’m glad he doesn’t. Now I know he knows we both said drinks but meant something more.

He reaches out for me before I even get to him, and I know I would think about that later. A lot. But right then in the middle of his entryway I wrap my arms around his neck and lean up on my toes to reach him too.

His lips are soft against mine and he tucks me into him, his hand splayed out on my lower back. It feels like a return to a lover, someone who knows you, like I would’ve thought seeing Gray again would feel. But it’s just Harry, and the thought of baseless familiarity freaks me out a little.

The next time I feel his lips they’re on my jaw and neck and down to the base of my throat. He murmurs my name as he makes his way down and my body reacts immediately. He takes me by the waist and backs me up against the nearest wall, and I have a feeling I might fall.

I had made the conscious decision to walk into the devil’s lair because it was the only place I could get what I needed.

My fingers dig into his shoulders. My body wants this. Every part of me wants to pull him close and hold him and never let go. I wanted all of it tonight.

But I am so tired.

I put a hand on his chest and press gently. I can feel the warmth of his skin, the firmness of his muscles and the beat of his heart as he pauses.

“Sorry, I should have started with a hello. That was too fast was it?” He whispers, looking me straight in the eyes.

I have a million answers, but nothing comes. He puts his hand over mine and I feel it as a shiver runs up my spine.

"Is this too fast?" he asks again, and I hear the worry in his voice.

I shake my head.

He gives a breathy laugh, "Then tell me."

"I think I-“

“Don’t,” he covers my mouth with a laugh. “Please please. Don’t think.”

I smile under his palm and he drops his hand, I can tell he’s proud of lightening the moment by the sheen in his eyes. The moment is tender in a way that takes me back.

He brushes back my hair and kisses my forehead. I close my eyes, breathing in his cologne.

“That’s not where I want to be kissed,” I tell him.

“Then where?” He plays along.

“Anywhere but there.”

He kisses my nose. “There?”

“Not there,” I open my eyes to look up at him. “I’ll have you know that was very snotty just an hour ago.”

He groans, “you really have a way of taking the desire out of a situation.”

But his brows furrow and he watches me even closer.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” I respond to his unasked question.

With that statement he takes a painful step back and I nearly slide down the wall without his support.

“What?” I ask.

“We should take that drink first.”

I feel the loss of his body pressed against mine, I realize miserably.

“What do you mean? I thought the drinks were just an excuse?” I ask.

He laughs a little, “Maybe tonight, but I really did want to have a drink with you. And talk.”

“Harry,” I groan. “I’m all out of talking tonight. Truly.”

“As much as I want to say forget talking and take you to bed I need to do this…just follow me,” he leads me and my flushed body through to the main living area which I was well familiar with but it’d gotten a facelift. I make commentary on the changes and he tells me more about it as he pulls a wine he wants out for us.

“I changed things around a little after you left,” he says as he hands me the wine glass. “I needed it. The change.”

“Oh.” Is all I can muster. I follow him to the sofa, tonight he doesn’t leave as much space between us but it still feels like a weird parallel to the night I landed in the hospital; a confrontation with Gray leading me to wine with Harry. “Look Harry I don’t know if I can do this.”

“Why not?”

“I…I’m at minimal capacity right now I just-“

“Just let me talk then.”

“Why does everyone want to talk!”

“I need to tell you what I should have said a long time ago and I want to apologize-“

“You already did-“

“Properly.”

I cross my arms and sigh.

“Y/n bloody hell I forgot how quickly you can get under my skin.”

“So this isn’t a great thing then.”

“Y/N,” he says my name like a warning and I want to comply. I roll my eyes and knock back my glass of wine, the buzz from the glass at dinner has long since worn away.

“Part of me wants to top you up but another part remembers what happened last time.” Harry eyes me.

“No I’m okay with just one glass. Drinking when I’m upset doesn’t end well.”

“Yeah…I don’t want you concussed on my watch again.”

“No we don’t want that,” we smile at each other, a soft and sentimental smile that gets the anxious stuttering of my heart to calm down a little. He just wanted to talk, so what?

But the anxious voice runs through the scenarios he might want to—his recent text, or something I did as his PA he wants to take up now. Gah.

“I really have missed having you around,” he says softly.

“Didn’t feel like you would with how you treated me.” I raise my brow.

“I know.” He pauses then mumbles something before talking to me directly. “You must have heard about the PA before you? Maybe from Riley?”

“Kind of.”

“Kind of?”

“Hmmm this feels like a trick question.” I say but he tells me he just wants to know what I knew. So I rip the bandaid off. “You had a fling with her.”

He hangs his head back over the seat of the sofa and sighs. “I knew that piece of…Riley makes me really mad when I think about him sometimes.”

“Does he?” I raise my brow. “I can think of someone else who makes me madder.”

“I know that’s supposed to be me. And I don’t know what to do about that except come clean right now.”

“And why is that?” I ask. “Coming clean? I came here just to get distracted in bed with you. I never thought I’d live to see the day where a guy like you wants to talk instead.”

“Y/N,” he says with such an intense look my way my stomach flips. “Trust me. I want to have you in my bed more than you do. But I told myself if that day ever somehow happened it would be after this.”

I shrug, let him continue. In reality his words make me weak and I can’t speak. Which kind of annoys me—why did he have such a strong pull over me? How did he so easily admit he’s thought about me, about having me in his bed!?

My heart flutters amongst other things.

I remember a brief conversation I had with my mom last year when she asked me why I wasn’t putting myself out there and dating again and I told her I just didn’t have the heart for it. She had said it seems I left my heart in London—my passion and my heart. Sitting here with Harry stirs something inside of me, scares me, and I want to distract that with more wine. But I manage to control myself.

“I was fairly new to the industry when I hired Riley and it was his second proper job or something so we were both a bit young and we ended up being friendlier than we should have.” Harry starts. “But he was great at his job and never gave me any issues. I stayed naïve that people in this industry would look out for my best interest-“

“That’s really naïve,” I can’t help but comment but he throws me a look and I zip my lips. “Sorry.”

“I was lucky that the first few relationships I built as I got my foot in the door were genuine but I realized too late that it wasn’t a norm. Everyone wanted a piece of me and they all wanted me to be someone else. Some angle. Shit hit the fan pretty quickly. So when I needed more help I decided to create a new role for Riley and hire a PA. She was seasoned and came highly recommended.”

I nod along to his story.

“Long story short, she started out good but she kept trying to get me alone and get me talking. And back then after being friends with my old PA I didn’t have the wisdom of setting boundaries—don’t give me that look.”

“What!” I raise my hands. “I’m just listening.”

“You’re judging me.”

“Just continue,” I encourage. I was judging a little.

“Anyway, where I thought we were just friendly she thought I—I dunno I was falling for her or something. And one night she was working late so she had dinner here. She kept refilling my drink I didn’t realize she wasn’t drinking as much. It’s not much of an excuse but by the time she came onto me I was pissed and it didn’t take much.”

He continues the story like it was nothing but his voice catches a little and he doesn’t look me in the eye. My insides grow colder. I want to reach inside of him and hold the old Harry, the naive one who didn’t know better.

“Please don’t feel bad for me,” he cuts my sympathy short. “I didn’t turn into a great person after that. Especially with how I treated you.”

“That’s right.” I pretend to be unaffected by his story like he wanted me to be. But it’s near impossible.

“So that’s how I decided it was best for me to play the asshole. I couldn’t fire her after that—it would look awful and she could report me and screw me over. But I could make working for me a nightmare and so I did. A few months later she quit.”

He sighs and takes a swig of his wine, “Then you came along and I thought ‘I should play the asshole from the get go.’ I had gotten good by then at compartmentalizing my personality in the industry.”

“Hmph,” I raise a brow. He has the decency to look embarrassed but he continues.

“But the more time we spent together the worse I felt. You were nothing like the previous PA. You were genuine and down-to-earth. Pretty fiery but I wouldn’t find that out until later,” he grins. I roll my eyes. “I tried to ease up a little but things kept happening to push me back into the asshole box.”

“But you were so snappy, and a dick.”

“I know. I didn’t know how to tell you you worked too hard without dropping the asshole act and making you feel even shittier.”

“What do you mean?”

“I had to be the villain in your story-“

“What?” What was he talking about?

“Yeah like, you were working all the time even though there were some times I told you to wrap it up for the day.”

I remembered that, thinking he was kicking me out.

“But you took the job so seriously. I appreciated everything you did but you were dogged at making sure you did the best at any cost.”

“What do you mean? At any cost?” I ask, a cold sensation running down my back.

“For example take that one time a few months in when I asked you to call me because you forgot to order wine. You bloody came all the way back to hand deliver it-“

“Yeah because you said to call you and you were gonna be pissed if I-“

“No, y/n,” he lays a hand between us. “I just wanted you to call to know where you usually ordered from so I could order that for myself. You weren’t in any trouble! But I could only blame myself for playing the hard asshole too well.”

I think about that night, Josie’s birthday party. How I left early and upset Gray. How I didn’t need to but I had been following the Dos and Dont’s list.

Shit, the lists. They were added onto by the last PA who, now I know, was having her life made into hell just so she would quit. Some of those lists were on an extreme I didn’t even have to follow. Fuck. That was on me.

My face must be a painting of regret because Harry apologizes again.

“I’m sorry but I didn’t want you to…I just felt like I had to play the villain so you could do what you had to do. So you could continue hating me and we could establish the clear boundary.”

“Right.” I have a bitter taste in my mouth.

“But I genuinely liked you, I thought you were funny and sensitive-“

“You don’t like my sensitivity.”

“I do. I just hated how angry you were-“

“Because of you.”

“I know. I created a monster, I’m Frankenstein.”

“Damn straight.” I agree and we pause a beat before laughing.

“Anyway,” he continues. “You were funny and sensitive and resilient, passionate and smart, and you cared so deeply. It was rare meeting people like you in this field. I wanted to wrap you in bubble wrap but I think I shattered you instead. I’m sorry for the way I just let my past colour your time here. I feel like you left because of me-“

“It was really a lot of reasons.”

“I know but I was part of that and I felt no good. After you left I was a miserable son of a bitch for a while. I couldn’t even enjoy my holiday because I kept thinking of you. I was miserable so I barely even said goodbye—I didn’t realize you were going to run away so far. But I also didn’t want to say goodbye because I was scared I would convince you to stay by spilling my truth.”

His words sit on my chest and they slowly sink down to my stomach. I don’t know what it meant, what he wanted me to do with this confession. It’s too much.

“Mostly,” he continues, shifting closer to me on the sofa. He lowers his voice, “Mostly I’m sorry about Barcelona.”

I flush at the mention of it. At the heat and passion from that night. His eyes roam my face.

“I’m not that guy. I should have treated you nicer, should have been the one to keep my patience.”

“I didn’t make it easy,” I admit.

“No,” he chuckles. “You really fucking did not.”

We smile.

“But you’re so much more than anger y/n. I could barely sleep that night, I kept regretting giving into the anger and not being slow and soft with you the way you deserve. I regret it all the time.”

His confession pulls the veil off my eyes and I see a sharper image of my past. Of everything. It all comes at once and I can’t sort through it in the moment but I know what I want to do.

I shuffle over until I’m up against Harry, I hold his face in mine and he cups my face in his hand.

“You drove me crazy,” I tell him. “Made my life hell.”

“I know. But you drove me crazy too. Nobody got under my skin like you did.”

“Same.”

His hand snakes down to my thigh and he nudges it over his lap so that I’m straddling his body. I feel vulnerable and scared—not the first time these emotions have coursed through me in this very room. But today I don’t feel powerless.

His lips are soft against my cheek, my jaw, down my neck. Unlike the first time he’s slow and deliberate like someone who’s waited so long to unwrap a cherished gift and can’t stand ripping even the gift wrap. He pushes my hair out of the way and trails his fingertips down the back of my neck.

“I’m glad you’re here,” he whispers in my ear. The more he talked the more nervous he was making me. I turn my head to capture his lips, run my fingers through his hair which is too short to really grasp. I missed his old hair.

We break apart for a breath and I can feel the tension. The desire to have him near clashing with the need to go slow. To savour this. Somehow we both feel it.

“We don’t have to do anything tonight,” Harry promises me, his finger trailing down my arm. “Just having you here is enough.”

Oh god. How did he know just the things to say. This man was way too suave. He really was the devil.

But I needed him. It’s scary to admit but I did. I wanted to be here, I really did. I needed to be in this moment with him. Fulfill some shut-out desire that had grown dusty in the corner of my heart.

“I want to do this.”

With a gentle kiss he gets us up and takes my hand. I feel myself being pulled through the living room and towards the bedroom. The sheets are cool, but not cold and when he crawls in beside me I forget that I had ever been anywhere else.

He’s attentive and deliberate and I’m buzzing with anticipation. I decide to pick up the pace, propping myself up to take off my blouse. I watch his throat bob up and down like he’s never seen me like this before even though he has. It’s endearing.

The way his hands fit in the curve of my waist makes it harder to breathe. He moves his hands up my torso and to the straps of my bra. He pauses, as if asking permission, and when I nod, he kisses me. He unhooks it and slowly slides it off my shoulders, eyes fixed on mine.

The intensity of his gaze is overwhelming.

I pull him close to kiss him again, and he pulls me under him so I can feel the full weight of him against me. This is what I needed. To be physically present and not stuck in the after tremors of the earthquakes of my past. Not that he wasn’t part of my past but this is different. A non-verbal agreement to just be present. I knew his ways with women, it could be a one-night thing and that’s what I needed.

But that’s why the moments of tenderness and adoration nearly take my breath away. I don’t know where to put these things.

He kisses down my shoulder while his hand trails down to my trousers. He hooks his finger into the belt loop and tugs gently, looking up at me for consent.

I nod.

He slowly takes them off, and when his fingers brush against my bare legs, my breath hitches.

It happens again when he presses his lips against my hip bone.

He stops for a moment, and I can almost see the cogs in his brain whirring.

He moves up to press his forehead against mine.

"I don't know how to do this right," he says quietly, and his eyes search mine.

“What do you mean?”

“This is always how I should have treated you,” he whispers. “I want you to know-“

“Harry,” I smooth out the lines on his forehead.

"No," he grabs my hand and kisses it. "I don't want you to feel like I don't care because I do. I don’t want to hurt you. I'm not good at saying these things. But I want you to know how much I value you. That I like you as a person. I respect you. I want you to be okay.”

“I-“ who was this Harry, seriously!? “I get it. I’m okay. I am.”

He smiles at me tentatively and my heart does a somersault.

I grab the back of his neck and pull him down, pressing my lips against his. I could taste the sweetness of the words he had said.

I tug at his shirt and it flies into the darkness of his bedroom. His skin is heated against mine.

It feels like an eternity before he finally reaches the band of my panties, and my heart thumps wildly.

"May I?" he looks up.

"Please," I whisper.

For the first time since I’ve met him he doesn’t make it about himself or what he needs. It’s almost intimidating how intense he is as he looks after me and it’s hard to reconcile this man with the man in my head. We’re of one mind and it’s like he knows everything I’ve been through in the last 24 hours; he just attends to my every need reminding me that I was here, right here, in his arms and in this body.

And it doesn’t go unnoticed.

“Are you staying the night?” He asks later with a final kiss to my shoulder.

“If that’s alright?” I ask. I didn’t want to be alone in a cold hotel room.

“I’d love nothing more.” He says earnestly.

Love. I brush the word away.

He warns me that he was a slug if I stayed and he’s not exaggerating, with his arm draped over me and tucked up against him he’s like a child with a plush. He falls asleep just as quickly.

I should too but can’t. I feel so intensely about this body laying beside me, I want to crawl inside of him, understand him, understand us and how this worked.

Or maybe I wanted to just understand me, and why I felt a piece of myself sliding back into place tonight. I had to be the most fucked up person in this city.

Instead of sleeping I lay awake thinking about everything and I can’t help it. I go over this morning—god it felt like weeks ago. Josie’s graduation. Josie. Gray. Even Michelle.

I feel slightly paralyzed by everything that transpired today—it truly felt like peering through a glass window into a life I used to have. I try to break open the glass, sort it all out.

On one side is me and everything I’ve done this whole year to move on from the crumbs of my life here in London. I don’t know why but I really did think that coming back I would be 100% untouchable by my past. I was an idiot for thinking that because I was bothered that Gray seemed to have a steady girlfriend. Why did I think anything would rekindle between us?

I dig deeper, did I even want that to happen? Or did I just want to prove to myself that I was the one Gray let get away because I was too scared to face the possibility that I was the one who let Gray get away.

But clearly something didn’t work with us, I think bitterly. A few months with his new girl and he found the balls to open up with me and communicate his grievances and his apologies.

Love that’s as fierce and loyal as you are, he had said. Was I too much for Gray? Is that why we were made to burn out? It hurt too that he had damaged all my relationships I made in my life here in London only to cut those same people out of his life immediately after I left. The more I think about it the angrier I feel.

And his mom, I still feel bruised by her acting like she didn’t even know me. It stokes the anger higher. Her own son has called her crazy on multiple occasions, I was always nothing but kind to her. Gray was the one who put the final nail in our coffin yet the woman who called me her daughter and claimed to love me had been cruel. Even in the face of getting along for Josie’s sake she had put her petty feelings in the forefront.

These people made me so angry.

How did I ever think I could rekindle anything with Gray? As much as I was to blame, I realize, Gray couldn’t even be kind in the end. Just because the year apart was good to him didn’t mean he would still be good for me.

I think about the man laying beside me, in a hypothetical situation if things got ugly I instinctively want to say he would be cruel too. But I have to push past the persona he claimed to have put up and think about the glimpses of the man I saw underneath. Something tells me he would be just as fiery in letting me know how he was feeling. But with his recent apologies I’m not as convinced he would go out of his way to hurt me again.

Even in the bar last night, I just assumed he called me Mrs. Duran to be cruel but he hadn’t known. Or when I had assumed at Josie’s birthday party I would be fired for forgetting wine because he was an asshole when really he just acted like one so I wouldn’t feel worse.

How many times had I judged people because of how skewed my own lens was? It’s a sobering reminder.

Josie’s face flashes through my mind and I tear up at knowing we were going to cut each other out. No matter how much we loved each other staying in touch at this rate was no longer sustainable. For her best interest.

I think of my younger brother back home, my older sister, our family of 5. When I went back home there was so much to catch up on and eventually, apologize for. I had missed out on so much of my family’s life because I believed I needed to leave to grow. Well, life sure handed me a lot of lessons but I needed to go back home to plant them and let me grow.

Harry stirs beside me, nuzzling my neck in his sleep. I feel myself go teary eyed for no reason.

I wondered if this was just a one-night thing. If we would see each other again while I was in London. Did I want to see him? My heart sings yes immediately.

Damn.

What was it about him that pushed my emotions to the highest highs and lowest lows. How did he know every button to push and every bruise to kiss. This had to be toxic, we couldn’t just take our great big baggage of a past and see each other casually while I was in London. It couldn’t be that easy.

What if it was, hope whispers. I squirm. Could I forgive Harry for everything he’d done?

“Y’sleeping?” Harry mumbles to my left. Shit.

“Yeah,” I say which invokes a throaty chuckle from him. I check the time, it was nearly 4. Double shit.

“Liar,” he tugs on my hips and I turn to face him. “Talk to me.”

I couldn’t. Half of my thought were about him. And how could I tell him I was thinking about my ex after spending the night with him. So I just shake my head.

“Please?” He brushes my cheek with his thumb. “You need to sleep.”

“I-“ I try to say I can’t but the words get stuck in my throat. The emotions of everything I’d been thinking in the last couple hours threaten to dislodge the words from my throat so I close my mouth. But it doesn’t work.

A sob bursts out of me and before I can reel it all in the floodgates swing open and it carries all the pent-up sorrow and confusion, grief and anguish I had bottled up.

Harry freezes for a moment, probably very confused to wake up and have me reacting this way. But he recovers and pulls me into his warm chest.

“What is going on in that head of yours love,” Harry murmurs. Love. I sob even harder.

He murmurs reassuring words whilst stroking my back and I cry an embarrassing amount in the same bed where just hours ago I was blissed beyond comprehension. Life moves fast.

Finally when I gain enough composure I lean away, covering my face because crying into him was one thing but seeing my ugly cry face was another.

“Here,” I feel his body move and then tissues pressed into my hand. I’m grateful for them but I wasn’t going to blow my nose here. I sit up and try to dry my nose. His hand reaches out and the tips of his fingers rest on my spine like he was tethering my lost body to him. Somehow even that is reassuring.

“Don’t go trying to kiss my nose this early on again,” I try to joke through a stuffy voice.

“I wouldn’t dare,” he tugs my arm a little and I fall back beside him. He holds me in both his arms and I watch in horror and affection as he kisses the tip of my nose.

“Stop being so nice,” I laugh and cry a little too.

“You’re actually complaining about me being nice?”

“No I just—I’m not used to it,” I press the tissue to my eyes again.

“Well get used to it,” he peels the hair off of my face and pushes it back. “I don’t want to be the one hurting you. I swear to never ever be the reason you cry like this to anyone.”

“Don’t say those sorts of things if you don’t mean it.”

“I do,” he caresses my face. “You’re breaking my heart y/n, I don’t know who hurt you but I never want to see you like this. Especially not because of me alright? I’m sorry if I ever-“

“Stop,” I put my hand to his mouth. Which is kind of gross since I just blew my nose but I’m pretty sure him kissing my snotty nose means he didn’t care.

“But-“ he says behind my hand.

“I’m embarrassed right now,” I admit.

“You have seen me in every compromising situation,” Harry says. “And we have been through too much together to be embarrassed right now.”

“Fine,” I sigh. “It is tiring.”

“Maybe you can finally sleep now that it’s…almost 5?”

“Sorry,” I sigh. “I hope you don’t have something early?”

“Nope,” he kisses the top of my head. “And even if I did it wouldn’t matter.”

So we both try to go back to bed and I manage to fall asleep, all of those tiring racing thoughts washed away by a good cry. I feel warm and cared for and vulnerable and protected. A stark change from how Harry has made me feel before. Maybe this was temporary or maybe this was the start of something new. I’m just taking it minute by minute while all I can think is Do I or Don’t I?

***

It’s my final week in London and if you’d asked me a couple weeks ago if I was looking forward to going back home I would have said without hesitation yes.

But that night at Harry’s and putting my past to rest brushes away an old and tired film I had been viewing the city with since I landed.

We had seen each other a couple times a week since—I’ve been cautious despite my body saying otherwise. There were many days I had been free but I had made up some excuse not to see him, I was scared of getting too attached and having to leave.

But I can’t deny how nice it was to be with Harry without any labels. Most of the time I went over to his, it was tricky going out somewhere too public and risking getting papped. Together we just talk about life and work, my life back in America and my relationship with my family, his life growing up and his relationship with stardom. We watch movies and listen to music and make jokes and I open up a little about what had been weighing on my mind that night.

Winnie teases me that I was lighter than she’s ever seen me, that London looked good on me. I tell her she’s crazy. But even Oretta admits it when Winnie brings it up to her.

Harry makes the effort to make up for how he acted until it’s not just words. I believe what he was saying. And I admit to my faults too.

We still get under each other’s skin.

The thing we argue about the most is an opportunity Harry tries to get me to sign off on. The link he texted me when I was in Cambridge was an upcoming single one of his friends was releasing and he wanted to get me to bid on executing a music video for it. I tell him he was nuts and that I had no experience, plus I had a job. But he persists. He thinks I should explore putting my creative skills to use and not just my organizational skills. The arguing continues.

I have a date with him tonight, at the same bar we bumped into each other that first night. I have a question I’d been meaning to ask him.

“You aren’t actually a regular here are you?” I ask when we’ve settled.

“Of course I am,” he says but I know he’s lying. I raise my brow and he looks everywhere but at me. “Fine. I’m not.”

“So how the hell did you end up here that night?”

“Coincidence.”

“Liar.”

“I’m an honest man.”

“Truth please?”

“You’re embarrassing me here let’s move on.”

“Nuh-uh,” I’m enjoying his bright cheeks and darting eyes. “Did you stalk me or something?”

“I…I knew this was a local spot for you. Or was.”

“Really? How?”

“You mentioned it a few times? And I dropped you off here once after work.”

He might’ve. I’d met many friends and especially Gray here. I motion for him to continue.

“I might’ve known you were in town, might’ve found out you were here and…”

“So you did stalk me,” I gasp. “Oh my god ladies and gents he is obsessed.”

“That’s a strong word.” He argues.

“You. Stalked. Me.”

“Oh fine, I’ll confess: I’m used to the stalkers and I thought it was high time I did some stalking and see what the fun was all about,” he joins in on making fun of himself.

“Someone get me a restraining order,” I say just as someone approaches our table with drinks. As soon as they leave we burst out laughing.

“So have you given the music video any more thought?” Harry asks as the evening continues.

“Can we not talk about this right now?” I ask.

“I just think you should give it serious thought. I know you want to go into PR, be somebody’s Graham, but you have a really good eye for this thing. Before you pursue what you think you want, try this out.”

“You’re one dude,” I say again. “Who believes I can do this. You want me to throw away the career I’ve worked on for years to dabble in this and potentially waste time instead of getting to where I want?”

“Firstly, if you love doing something it’s not time wasted. And secondly you only ever need just one person to believe in you, angel.”

His fingers brush mine on the table, the familiar electricity courses through me just through the small touch. And of course, his use of pet names always turned me to putty. I hated how malleable he made me.

“Consider it. Just write a proposal y/n, it’s not betraying Oretta or anything. I can talk to her if you want if they choose your idea.”

It was scary putting myself out there for something I didn’t believe in myself for. But my echoes of burnout grow towards the idea of doing something less demanding than being an assistant just like a sunflower to the sun. It basks in letting my creativity flow.

“I’ll think about it.”

“Not for too long,” he taps my fingers again. We were cautious about being too touchy in public, even in a place like this where people genuinely didn’t care who he was. “Proposal’s due at the end of next week.”

When I would be back home in America. Away from here. Him.

We hadn’t talked about it, if we would try to keep in touch. I can’t really imagine a long-distance thing with Harry. Not at this stage. Mostly we enjoyed being in each other’s company and I was scared forcing labels just because we would be apart would ruin this fragile thing.

“Fine.” He’d worn me down and I submit. “Fine I’ll get something in for you.”

He pulls back with a shocked expression. “Did I just convince the stubborn y/n y/l/n to do something she didn’t want to do?”

I scowl. “Don’t get used to it.”

“I won’t,” he laughs, waving his hands around him like he was fanning in an aroma. “I’m soaking this in though.”

“Whatever,” I say with a smile.

“You make me work hard,” he smiles back. “For everything y/n. That’s one of the things I l-I-that I really like about you.”

We ignore the near slip of something far too serious for what we had going. We move past it but it sets my heart racing.

“So this friend of yours,” I change the subject. “With the music video. Didn’t you guys have like, beef when you were on tour? All that article stuff?”

“You of all people should know not to believe what you see online. It was all manipulated and put out of context.”

“I know but you were all moody for all your shows afterwards. I remember Jeff and Graham complaining. I assumed the articles had worn you down a bit.”

He raises a brow like he’s waiting on me to figure something out.

“What?”

“Really? You think it was the artcles?”

“Well what else happened that-“

Oh god. Was I that stupid?

Of course it wasn’t the articles, it was me! Us.

A smile stretches over the contours of his face as realization dawns on mine, “Twice in a row I’ve got you today, I should buy a lottery ticket.”

“I’m off my game today is all, don’t get used to it.”

I can’t believe it. Not that I didn’t believe Harry after the last few weeks but I—that night—really meant that much to him that his feelings over it had affected the rest of his tour? I had affected his tour?

“Why didn’t you say anything if it was weighing on you so much? If I recall I tried to talk to you a couple times.” I ask.

“What could I say,” he snorts. “You were engaged and my loss of control was why you cheated. Then you were quitting and I knew if I said anything you might have stayed. I didn’t want to keep you where you didn’t want to be.”

His words tug at my heart. He really had thought up a storm.

“Harry,” I lean back. “Gray and I broke up before I joined you guys on tour again. We weren’t cheating.”

His forehead creases, “What?! But you were together at my London show. I thought you two broke up after you moved back home?”

“No,” I guess in the last few weeks I’d just mentioned we broke up a long time ago. He didn’t know any specifics. “We were fake-together because he hadn’t broken the news to his sister then. But that’s why I was all…y’know in Barcelona-“

“Fuck me,” he groans. “No wonder you thought I was an ass for pulling you away-“

“Well you were-“

“Yeah alright-“

“Why did you really pull me away though?”

“I…I was feeling a bit possessive.”

“What?”

I wasn’t expecting that to come out of his mouth. He smiles sheepishly, “I thought we already came to terms with that.”

My stomach does a few somersaults. Until tonight I don’t think I’ve really focused on the magnitude of how Harry felt back then. Parts of my mind were still remembering him as a prick just because it was easier to remember my side of things. But this spins things in a brighter light.

“I was just your assistant though.”

“Y/N,” he tilts his head to the side. “Did I not already tell you what I thought about you that night in my flat?”

“Yeah but-“

“I’d never met anyone like you, I really liked you. I couldn’t have you though and I had to push you away constantly. And that drove me a bit crazy sometimes.”

I let out a noisy breath, wondering if how he felt about me was just as intense now as it was then. A part of me knows it must be. Feelings like that didn’t fade. But here I was, barely knowing what it was I felt for him. All I knew was that it was nice when we were together.

Why me, I want to ask. But I hold back. It wasn’t a question I could ask my ex-employer current-lover part-time-asshole.

“Sorry,” he apologizes. “Was that a bit strong?”

“No,” I sigh again and he laughs. “Fine. A little. But it’s fine, I’m okay.”

“Okay,” he believes me. “So you broke off your engagement and didn’t tell anyone?”

“Kinda, we weren’t in a place we could come back from. We decided that mutually after things blew up. He didn’t even know I was leaving the country actually.”

Harry whistles. “You ran out on all of us.”

I scratch the side of my head, “Maybe?”

“Well I’ve enjoyed having you again, here.” He says with sincerity. “I’m really relieved to be able to get to say everything I wanted to your face.”

I agree. Neither of us mention I was leaving later in the week.

Even by the night before I’m leaving London we still hadn’t discussed a thing. But there’s a heaviness to us as we have dinner at his, as we pretend to watch a movie only to cuddle on the couch. We lay there facing each other and I trace his eyes, his nose, his wonderful mouth. It’s so odd to me that this was the same Harry Styles performing in sold out venues and on the walls of teenage bedrooms. That I got to have him in these quiet moments and be present.

I feel so grateful for this. That I didn’t have to carry around these draining stories within me anymore, that it felt like it happened to someone else. In a way even if nothing came from all this, I got closure. I was able to move on now.

I imagine my heart and it feels like when you take a stroll mid-March and realize nature was healing from winter’s blues. Warm and blooming the earth was growing again—my heart was growing stronger. Now the idea of a date or a partner didn’t seem so daunting and exhausting. I would never have guessed that it would take the man who almost broke me to come into my life again for me to see how to fit those pieces back in place again.

“I don’t know what I’m gonna do not having you in town anymore,” his lashes flutter as I run my hand through his hair. It was still shorter than I was used to but it had grown in the last three weeks.

“Oh you’ll be fine,” I say. “I’ve worked on your schedule before: meetings and studio sessions and photoshoots and interviews.”

“A busy life isn’t always a full one,” he whispers. And it’s the closest thing to a confession we were going to get to. I cover his mouth with mine and we indulge in each other one final time.

There is a symphony of unexpected but undeniable intimacy woven between the beats of our entwined hearts. I know I would probably never feel this way with anyone and I don’t think I’d want to. Being with Harry was passion. It was losing myself and finding myself at the same time. It was being vulnerable and guarded and cherished and known.

My flight out tomorrow is around noon but I can’t stay the night as I’d have to help Oretta in the morning to make sure everything gets to the airport in time. Harry walks me down to his lobby and we stand there for a few, just holding each other tight. He doesn’t ask me to stay and I don’t ask him to come.

“This isn’t goodbye y/n,” Harry says when we part. His hand rests on his heart. I know the feeling, mine aches so hard I want to press my hand to it just to tell it everything would be fine.

“No,” I shake my head. My eyes had been teary ever since he squeezed me to him. “We’ll talk soon.”

“You’ll be directing music videos soon.”

I roll my eyes, “I’m still working on the proposal.”

“I have a good feeling about it.”

“That makes one of us. But…thanks for believing in me.”

“Thanks for believing in me,” he whispers. “Even when you didn’t have to.”

I’m glad I did. The only time in my life not paying attention to the warning bells had paid off.

“I’ve been working with this new producer and he wants me to come out to a studio in Cotati?” Harry mentions. “How far is that from where you are? Are you still in m Burbank?”

“Burbank’s where my parents are,” I shake my head. I look up what he’s talking about and feel a thrill when it’s less than a couple hours. Still, I try to maintain neutrality. “A little over an hour?”

“Well,” he brushes my hair over my shoulder and keeps his eyes looking just over it. “Depending on what you’re doing—maybe if you’re free…we can see each other again?”

I would love that. My heart is bursting just thinking of getting to have him in the place I called home. Of this meaning something. Of him wanting to see me again.

“Of course if you have a boyfriend by then and he doesn’t want you to see me that’s…I mean, live your life and if it works out we-“

“Yes,” I cut him off. “Yeah. Let’s see but that sounds good.”

He meets my gaze and I laugh a little, he was nervous and that was rare.

“Good,” he smiles with. “Until next time.”

“Until next time,” I step into his arms and it’s a quick affair before he steps away. I turn to head out the door, shielding my eyes from him. Not wanting him to see that this was stupidly hard to say goodbye.

He waves me off and I head back to my hotel with a heavy heart. But I think about him asking to see me again. Who knows when that would be. And I know this wasn’t the end of our story.

***

I’m happy to land in SFO the following evening, happy to busy myself with Oretta’s business, happy to have Winnie chattering away. I spent parts of the flight I wasn’t sleeping working on my MV proposal and it awakens a familiar passion inside of me I’d been afraid I’d lost.

I send out a silent thanks to Harry for knowing what was good for me.

I think of Harry often, Gray even less until I don’t think of him at all. I dream of London weekly; I missed it this time around. And as life resumes again I anticipate the change I sense on the horizon.

So when life gives me lemons I stop asking Do I or Don’t I. If one thing the last year has taught me was I had to listen to my gut and look at the signs. I had to start asking what I wanted and go after it. Even though Harry and I barely talk, I remember the lessons he’s taught me.

I stop looking to others to make decisions. There’s no guidebook or lists to help me make my decisions either. I take deep breaths and I believe in myself.

I build a new life on the remains of my old. I don’t let it dictate what I did anymore, I simply leave it as the foundation to elevate me even higher. I reach for the sky with my feet planted firmly on the ground. And I grow with reckless abandon.

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TAGLIST: @boomitsallie1 @indierockgirrl @ndunad @jerseygirlinca @sunshinemoonsposts @ninasw0rld @love-letters-to-uranus @mayamonroem @sassamanda77 @harryspirate

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apoptoses · 1 month

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It is #Molloy Monday and I am here to remind you that Daniel is featured most from 1975-1985 aka the Sluttiest Era of Modern Male Fashion.

Coming in HOT we have the cut off short shorts and cropped t-shirt or mostly unbuttoned button down combo. Daniel visited some warm climates during the chase years so I invite you to picture him in the tiniest ripped jean shorts sweating over whether or not that auburn haired lady down the street is actually Armand!!

Or going into the 80s sometimes the tops were REALLY cropped and exposed midrift and back!! Like just picture Daniel fucking around on Night Island in this, wow wow!!

But even when the pants were long the t-shirts were TIGHT, maximum pec definition through the shirt was a must.

If he didn't wanna show that much skin? That was fine because turtlenecks where IN baby!! These are basically vampire lingerie imo, covering up the most succulent part of the neck but still leaving a hint exposed below the jaw?? Armand had to have been dying of thirst!!!

(Also when it says Armand came to pick Daniel up from jail in a lawyer's tweed suit? He wasn't wearing no modern cut, he'd have been rocking the big lapels because this was the 70s tyvm)

Also important to note was that the 70s were the era of glam rock and androgyny, so picking a silky button down that looks like a women's blouse? Totally okay for men, very in style so long as you leave the top buttons undone to expose maximum chest.

Btw velour? Was IN. This is the 1979 equivalent of a juicy couture tracksuit which Armand could have snuggled right into while they were living in London.

And while the 80s sees the rise of a looser fit, that doesn't mean the crop top died or that people weren't still rocking a more form fitted jean when they were feeling casual.

This photo is from NYC in 1983 and shows that tight t-shirts and short shorts were still very much alive, just styled a bit differently! A tight top and looser straight leg jeans, or short bottom and a flowy open top took the place of all fitted looks.

Or that the mostly unbuttoned button down went away- if anything in the 80s the buttons went even LOWER and more revealing. Paired with a boxy linen suit this is essential 80s Miami aka Night Island looks.

and yeah that's spader, leave me alone, he's peak 80s here

This sweater is loose but it's got the deep V neck and a sheer knit, perfect for the beach!!

And yeah this is Sapder AGAIN but note the half open shirt, leather jacket, and jeans that get tighter near the ankle!! Classic 80s, baggy but still sexy, A+.

I SWEAR this is the last time I'm gonna use and abuse him but peep the muscle tank with the DIY cut edges on the arm holes! V neck! 80s!!!

Basically the takeaway here is that if you're putting them in the 80s and having them rock something baggy and double denim, the look still featured a tight waistline and rolled sleeves or rolled ankles to tighten the jeans. It wasn't just baggy all over!!

Here's some random images from the entire era to finish off:

So next time you're working on fic or art instead of just tossing Daniel into a regular old t-shirt and jeans consider doing some slutty 70s and 80s looks instead 😌

#daniel molloy #vampire chronicles #devil's minion #armand/daniel #vc shitpost #oops another spader adjacent post NOT SORRY ABOUT IT #he has so many early 80s movies they're easy to harvest from okay #and he's got the ash blond hair and beseeching look down #ANYWAYS i demand more daniel in short shorts art and fic tyvm #vc headcanons #apoptoses originals

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corruptedroses · 8 months

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— Corruption

Fandom — Five Nights at Freddy's: Security Breach Pairing — Glamrock Bonnie/Glamrock Freddy Summary — Damian doesn't let the things he loves go so easily. When Eliseo runs away when he's locked up for something he didn't do, all he can think is how to get him back. Content Warnings — stalking, toxic relationships, mafia au, characters use new names, pre-established world and relationships, Eliseo (Freddy) is a stripper, reuniting, mutual masturbation, blow jobs, handjobs, porn with plot (lots of plot), bit of pain kink Word Count — 10,978 words Author's Note — Commissioned piece, Alternate names are used in this version and are as followed: Damian (Glam Bon), Eliseo (Glam Fred), Christine (Glam Chica), Fergus (Funtime Freddy), Felix (Funtime Foxy)

Love is like a drug, and when you are forced to go cold turkey it hurts the most. Damian knew this more than anyone from the sting Damian knew this more than anyone since his heart had been left stinging and empty after the third mail day in prison.

It started slowly, he denied it; Eliseo probably was busy with something else, maybe he was trying to track down who had framed him… but then he didn’t visit. He was patient, and understanding, he waited in his cell, waited in the visitation room, hanging by that phone in hopes that those familiar blue eyes and caramel curls would walk in. Eliseo never came. The nagging feeling turned full bloom as the weeks went by, eating him away more and more.

The weeks blurred, and Damien found himself staring at those same four walls over and over again, waiting for that call. He bottled it down, and kept it deep inside his chest; he kept doing what he needed to do while wearing those orange jumpsuits, having his men work on getting him out. He knew he was an innocent man — he never dealt in drugs anyway — so the day he was finally released after being cleared of his name… the nightmare had only just begun.

To find a home that was devoid of the one you held close crushed you inside, a storm that brewed in the heat of summer as you found yourself on your knees. Damian’s heart had crushed and shattered, spread across the ground when there was nothing. It had been a blur when he had thrown open every door, called out all the names he knew in his heart, and searched for any sign that he wasn’t dreaming.

This was a nightmare to him, one that squeezed his lungs so tightly. Where was he, where was his lover? Eliseo’s name had fallen from his lips so many times, so many places he searched, but the smell of lavender had faded, replaced by stale, lonely air. Dust caked on surfaces, on furniture that hadn’t been used, it collected like a veil on the nightmare in his heart. He had to be somewhere, he had to be anywhere — his footsteps had stopped in the bedroom, the setting sun’s rays catching on a familiar sheen of golden metal.

There the cuff links that had promised Eliseo sat, in their velvet box, as pristine as the day he had gifted them. ‘I’m sorry’.

Eliseo was gone.

Their city was big, but not big enough. It was months later that Damian found Eliseo once more on the outskirts of the city, knowing the man couldn’t have gotten far — Eliseo had always said he never planned to leave the city given he didn’t know where else he would go, so finding him one day, as he drove around, had thrilled him like no other had before. He was still perfect, with his soft curly hair and his adorable blue eyes, Eliseo was like an angel that had descended to Earth in human form.

Seeing him surrounded by flowers only seemed to enhance that unearthly glow. Roses, peonies, daffodils, it was like looking at the perfect photograph.

A few sat in his glove box that had been taken in the weeks since that day, covered in what should be on Eliseo, yet his fingers tightened on the steering wheel as he parked across the street, watching his lover’s every move. He didn’t want to scare him more than what he should at that moment, he didn’t want to dare dream of causing his beloved distress, yet he couldn’t help himself. That shop didn’t see as much business as it would in the inner parts of the city, it didn’t provide income on some days, he felt the need to write a cheque and slipped it into the mailbox in the dead of night, the next day he had watched as Eliseo had pulled it out.

Yet he didn’t do anything with it.

He watched day in, day out, that Eliseo would have the same little beat-up car, and use the same sneakers that he noted seemed to be developing holes in their sides between the tape and staples he used to keep them from falling apart — it was like the man was ripping up the cheques and refusing to use them. ‘He’s always been like this,’ he thought to himself, his knuckles turning white as he gripped the steering wheel, ‘he doesn’t usually spend much on himself.’ Frugal in spending, he remembered the many, many times that he had to force Eliseo to spend on himself, to spend a single cent that came from his card; the man hated to spend, especially other’s money, so it was obvious that he hadn’t changed from that.

Yet the memories only seemed to haunt him.

“I can’t spend this.” Eliseo’s eyes were wide when he peered into the envelope; it had been one month since Damian had finally convinced him to start dating, and it had been two since Damian had confessed his feelings to the man that he had been bottling up for years. It was only right that he wanted to give the man something to spend, something to use, but yet as the envelope was shoved back into his own hands, Damian’s brow quirked.

“How so?” Damian’s voice rippled through the office like a soft rain as he attempted to push back the envelope into Eliseo’s hands, but yet the man didn’t seem like he wanted to budge, only trying harder to keep the envelope in Damian’s hands. “I’m giving you this.”

“It’s not my money.”

“And I’m giving it to you. It makes it your money.” Damian finally forced the envelope full of banknotes finally back into Eliseo’s hands, tucking his own into the armpits of his suit as he stepped away, the brunette seeming confused on what to do with such a big stack of cash; flash it to your allies and they’re drooling, flash it to a random woman and she’ll drop her panties for you, flash it to Eliseo and the man looked like he had seen a ghost. The way his fingers ghosted over the bills, counting each in his mind, “Is five thousand too little?” Damian questioned as he watched his lover’s eyes widen.

“It’s way too much!”

“Fine…” Taking the envelope and pocketing half the bills, Damian shoved the money back into Eliseo’s hands, pocketing the rest. “Two thousand five hundred. Spend it all by the end of this week and show it to me.”

“We should’ve been married by now…” Damian muttered under his breath as he watched Eliseo, like clockwork, come from the store to water the flowers that sat outside. The apron he was wearing was ratty, worn, he could see the strings that kept it around his neck fraying and falling apart — he needed a new one, one that would match his eyes, maybe one that had a pocket on the front. He could get him a designer one, one that matched his store and—.

“Haven’t you thought about just talking to him?” Oh, Christine was in the car, he had forgotten. The white-haired woman sat in the back seat, the smell of nail polish emanating through the air as she did her nails on the leather seats of the car. She was practically his right-hand man and Eliseo’s former-best friend so, when she had heard that he had found Eliseo, it had been a nightmare to try and tell her no. Hearing as she clicked her teeth and fumbled with something in her beauty bag, Eliseo would spot Christine a mile away if he hadn’t enabled the child locks in the back. “Eliseo probably still loves you.”

Keyword: probably.

“I don’t get why you’re here…” Damian muttered, finally turning his head to stare at the woman as she prepared an aerosol can, Damian quickly snatched it away before she could even attempt it. “No hair spray.”

“You’re no fun.” Violet eyes stared at him before Christine muttered something in a tongue he couldn’t understand. The woman settled into her seat with her overly bright clothing and even louder attitude rolling off of her in waves while Damian tossed the hair spray into his passenger seat. “Being like a stalker every day isn’t helping you get any closer to him.” He knew that too, yet his thoughts were interrupted as two shoes were shoved in his face.

“Pink or green?” Both were as hideous as the other, but as he pointed to the pink one, Christine hummed and the shoes to disappear into the back seat again. “As I was saying,” she continued while Damian watched her throw the shoes on through the rear-view mirror, “you two were pinning after each other a long time — way longer than what when me and the others were around for.”

The sign flipped to closed, Damian started up the car and he fastened his seat belt then began to drive off, “it’s more complicated than that, Christine.” Damian said, making sure that Eliseo didn’t see them drive off as he headed through the streets, “either way, have you learned anything from the club?”

“Oh, yes, that’s why I’m here.” Sliding into the front seat and fastening her seat belt, Christine looked the part of the role she was about to play, skimpy leotard and all, her makeup done to whatever perfection was needed. The club they were going to didn’t just hire any dancer, they needed the best, and with Christine’s face done up and her body on display, they had accepted her and kept her. She had been careful to not cross paths with Eliseo when possible,even going as far as popping in some (dark) contacts to cover the striking colour of her eyes, which Damian could do nothing but tap on the wheel and wait for. “Eliseo has been giving the money out to everyone else in the club.”

“And you left it in his hole?”

“Yep, still did it anyway.” He could already feel the migraine coming on from this information, throwing on the brakes suddenly as he realised he was approaching a red light. “Christ! Watch out would you?”

“You should pay attention.” The words were directed more to himself than Christine. He kept driving and soon the sun dimmed over the horizon, bringing the flashing neon signs and lights of the club into view. They acted as a beacon of limited delight, a flashing sign that directed occupants to forget their loneliness and sorrows and funnel into its doors.

How sour had it been when he first discovered that this was the place his beloved spent his nights, dancing away for men who didn’t know how to appreciate Eliseo the way he did. Even if Christine reassured him that Eliseo didn’t allow anyone to touch him or get close enough to cop a feel , it didn’t ease the nerves that entangled themselves around his heart. Leering eyes, wanting hands, he could only imagine Eliseo in a tight string that barely concealed nothing, dancing around a pole and entertaining the wandering eyes. He had seen Christine perform when they first met, but never before had he imagined that Eliseo would be in the same position.

What hadn’t he given Eliseo? Did he want more power in the relationship or did he want something else? He racked his brain for hours upon hours at night as he would try and figure out what his beloved wanted and craved. What had caused him to leave the world of comfort and luxury to let men that he didn’t know ogle him? Looking at Christine who did her lipstick in the mirror, he thought about the reasons she had been in the business; power, attention, comfort, it was all those things that she had craved and more and she still didn’t stop, not even when she became his right-hand man.

“Was I ever bad to Eliseo?” Damian muttered as he finally pulled into the parking lot, cutting the engine as he sat in his seat. The confused noise that came from the woman beside him was enough to make him fully turn his head, seeing the way her eyes looked at him as she paused mid-stroke, “did he ever tell you that I was doing something wrong?”

Christine only shook her head as she began to step out of the car, swiping the velvet box that was in the middle of the seats and placing it into her handbag, “you’ll have to find out yourself. Talk to him, tonight, or I’ll drag you to him myself.” Leaving him to stew in his thoughts, Damian watched as Christine crossed the parking lot to the front doors, and was let in with a nod and a smile. That woman loved to tease and taunt, and drag people to where she wanted them to go

As he pulled the keys out of the ignition and stepped out into the dimming sun, he sucked in his lips.

Damian had to finish this game of cat and mouse; Eliseo had been running for far too long, far too far, he needed to know that he was still wanted by him — so why didn’t he want to move? Sucking in a deep breath through his nose, he leaned against the roof of his car, staring at the club’s doors. Beyond those doors, already in a room that was filling up with men and women, Eliseo would be there soon. In there, he could corner him and take him back, make him come home.

It should be as easy as negotiating a deal with someone, yet his legs felt like jello. Was it the fact that he had been dreaming of this moment for so long that his legs didn’t want to work with him, or was it the fact that he didn’t know if this would be the same boy he knew? “Fuck.” Running a hand through his curly hair, Damian cursed multiple times under his breath. Eliseo was like air, so beautiful and essential for survival, he wanted to breathe it in, he wanted to embrace him, but what if he was like smog and would harm him from the inside?

No, he had to snap out of it, he couldn’t let his worries and fears take hold of him before he even had a chance to go inside. Christine had one goal and one goal only tonight; get those cuff links to Eliseo, if he wasn’t in there then the entire plan could fall apart. With one last check in the side mirror of his car to make sure his hair was perfectly in place, Damian allowed his feet to carry him across that car park. Each step was long, calculated, and hurried, yet his heart felt like it wanted to secure itself to the ground with how heavy it felt in his chest.

Damian had seen the horrors of gun battles and survived numerous gang fights, yet the mere thought of seeing Eliseo again after all of these years? It felt like something else entirely. He had said to the other man before that he would allow himself to take a bullet before he would even think about having to hold a gun. The building seemed so much bigger now that he stood at the door.

“Identification.” The bouncer demanded, Damian, snapped out of his thoughts long enough to grab his ID from his wallet, and handed the piece of plastic to the other man, watching as he tilted down his sunglasses before looking between him and the picture. “Birthday?”

Oh, he forgot that he looked different from the man in the photo. Coughing into his fist, Damian said his birthday without needing to look at the card, the bouncer moved to the side as he allowed Damian into the building.

“Men are on the right side of the stage, women on the left.”

He knew that already based on what Christine had told him, but yet he nodded his head in acknowledgement all the same, allowing himself to slip inside the smog of carnal desire and want that thinly veiled the depression that seeped deep within the rug. It was a standard entry hall, with a carpet that had seen better days and walls that had seen much too much smoke, but yet all the same it was… quite dull. Compared to the glitz and glam he was used to due to the Aftons hold on the underbelly, this was certainly a downgrade. He dodged the eyes of the women and men that dressed themselves in what he assumed to be staff uniforms, entering out into the main room with little noise.

The stench had become stronger, choking his nostrils and lungs as he surveyed the rooms. Decent space to move about, and doors were easily accessible, the soft pink of the overhead lights barely could disguise the blood that stained the carpet. Damian scowled as he avoided what seemed to be a fresh puddle, watching as staff worked quickly to try and clean it up. This was the place that Eliseo had found himself working at. Damian could hear the poor crackle of the speakers and see chairs that had been poorly taped back together — this place was a blunder, a disgrace to the district it sat on.

No wonder Christine had called it the crack house of whore houses, it certainly deserved the name.

“First time?” Of course, the one person you never wanted to be anywhere near had to be here. The white-haired Funtime grinned up at him with those blue eyes and Damian had to resist pulling his gun out on him right there and then. “Neutral zone, can’t do shit here unless you want to be pinned by the balls to the wall, Glam.”

Fuck, he was right. Relaxing the hand that hovered near his gun, Damian allowed his jaw to tighten as Fergus pulled out the chair next to him. “I’m not planning to be here for long.”

“Your boy toy ain’t even here yet, sit, I’ll buy you a drink if you do.” Letting his eyes wander for a bit around the room, not spotting any other familiar heads of white, purple or pink, Damian slowly slid into the chair, making sure that it was as far as possible between himself and the bastard that made torture a hobby.

“I’m assuming you want to talk to me?”

“Nah,” Fergus laughed, flagging down a waitress as he wheezed out of his ugly mug, “just want to see you be uncomfortable up close — two scotches, one with extra ice.” Turning his face away to ogle at the waitress’s breasts, it gave Damian some time to compose himself, slipping a knife that sat on the table down his sleeve.

You could never let yourself be too comfortable around a Funtime. Getting one’s attention was bad enough, but, being close enough to one where you could smell the horrid stench that rolled off of them from their rotten personalities? You may as well pay the devil for a dinner date.

“Now,” Without the appeal of mounds of fat in his vision, Fergus returned to Damian, his grin showing every tooth in his mouth as he rested his hands on the table, “Did ya whore him out or did he run screaming?”

“Shut your fucking mouth.”

“Al’ght, calm your dick.” Throwing his hands up as he retracted the statement, Fergus’s blue eyes seemed to glow under the pink as he drank from his half-finished scotch, the grin never disappearing. “I’m assuming you’re fetching yer due or some shit.”

“It is none of your concern.”

“You’re sitting across from me, Fergus, surrounded by piss, blood ‘nd shit in a club that might as well be shut down by the pigs and you tell me it ain’t any of my concern, especially when ye’re dressed up like it's a date?” As the man leaned over the table, like a bear about to strike the rabbit, Fergus’s eyes bore into his soul, “be lucky nobody else has put a bullet to that temple.”

“Is that a threat?”

“Can be if you want it to be.” The chair groaned under the weight of the other man as he sat back down, looking at his watch as he checked the time. “Pretty boy should be on in two minutes. Nev’a late.”

And never late he was. When the lights dimmed and those gorgeous brown curls appeared on the dimly lit stage, it was like Damian had lost all ability to speak. And he was dressed in that pretty lingerie that Damian had bought him. Pretty in blues and purples and reds, Eliseo seemed to wear it like a fancy glove as he danced around that stage with the lights shining on him — while the outfit had been for only his eyes to see in the first place, there was something about being able to glance to the side and see the other man drool over something he couldn’t have. He watched as Fergus swished around his scotch.

“Two scotches.”

Damian eyed the glasses as they were placed down on the table and watched the waitress as she walked away before he picked up the glass that sat in front of him, sniffing at the contents before putting it back down. While on most days he would allow himself to sip at a good scotch, the smell of cinnamon that came from the glass was less than inviting, red eyes glaring at the man in front of him momentarily.

“Not drinking it?” Damian bit his tongue as Fergus spoke, though as the man shrugged and kept drinking his own, Damian felt his eyes to wander back to the stage. He could see Christine off to the side, watching as she scanned the room before letting her eyes land on him. And Fergus.

‘Are you fucking insane?’ the woman mouthed from behind that curtain, Damian watching the way her brows furrowed in confusion at the overweight man. It hadn’t been a part of the plan — neither of them had been banking on another being here, but yet as Damian looked to Fergus before back to Chica, he mouthed back ‘I have this under control’ before she retreated behind the curtain.

He didn’t have any of this under control. He had to find a way of shaking off Fergus. Looking around the room before spotting the manager of the place, having seen him plenty of times being the last to leave and the first to arrive. The walk was brisk, and quick, Fergus’s attention too enamoured by the stage to notice that Damian had left. “You the manager?”

The manager was a scrawny thing up close, couldn’t be older than twenty-five based on the acne, though as the green eyes of the other man looked him up and down before nodding, Damian bit the inside of his cheek.

“Is Eliseo available for a private meeting?” Watching the way the manager’s eyes bulged at the use of Eliseo’s real name, it looked like he saw a ghost, blinking once, twice before looking at him even closer. “I know him personally.”

“I’d need to talk to his persona— woah.” As Damian pulled out a wad of cash from his inner pocket, flashing it to the man’s face, he could see the metaphorical dollar signs that appeared in his green eyes before he snatched it, counting each bill quickly. “I’ll see what I can do, the private rooms are in the back.”

Good, Fergus can’t follow him there. Letting himself be led into the twisting hallways of the club, Damian could still smell the rotten stench from a mile away, yet it dulled the further he got from the main room. The carpet became less sticky under his feet, the lighting seemed to be better, and as he was left in the room he knew that this club put their bank on private reservations.

He couldn’t help but let himself to the wine in the bucket, not even taking a cup as he took a swing straight from the bottle. How long would it be until Fergus realised that he was gone, leaving nothing but the scotch he was meant to drink? Probably not anytime soon. Letting the stray wine that attempted to slip from his mouth be wiped away by the sleeve of his suit jacket, he inspected the label of the wine.

“Fuck…” Damian muttered, smacking his lips against his teeth as he spoke, “That’s some fine wine.” Bottled in the eighteen hundreds, no wonder why this place looked so nice in the back; it was for the rich and the elite as a cover. He could hear the thunder of applause from where he stood, signalling the end of Eliseo’s show. With the thundering vibrations that echoed through the halls, Damian’s throat tightened up; it was like his entire conscious was telling him that Eliseo may be fine here, that he was seemingly happy. “Fuck!” He cussed again, the wine bottle vibrating with the impact as he slammed it against the table in the middle of the room.

He was in this too deep now.

The door slammed open, Damian letting his eyes shoot up to look at the blazing blue that was Eliseo. Seeing him there, making eye contact with him and breathing the same air as he had made his heart feel like it was squeezed in a vice grip. His hair had grown longer, shaggy in front of his eyes as Eliseo took a few steps into the room, shutting the door behind him. It was quiet, the only thing that echoed in the room being Eliseo’s hard breaths, watching as he leaned against the wood of the door.

“Elis-.”

“Don’t talk yet.” Eliseo’s words came out harsh, stopping him in his tracks as he sucked in a deep breath. Of course, what was he thinking; they hadn’t seen each other in so long and now he was intruding on his life. He took another sip of the wine. “I should have known it was you,” Eliseo’s voice wavered as he talked, even if he had long hair that covered his eyes, there was no hiding the tears that streamed down the other man’s face as he stood there, a sheer slip covering his skin from his gaze, “how long have you been out?”

“Since June.” Even if it had been four months since Damian was released from that hell hole, there was something about how Eliseo just stared at him, keeping their distance while wearing those goddamn shoes that made him taller. Based on the door, with those heels, Eliseo was probably as tall as he was. “I’ve been looking for you.”

“I knew you would, you always do.” It didn’t stop the pain that had come with knowing that Eliseo had moved out when he was stuck in the shit hole, that he had uprooted his life to do this, but as Damian took a few steps towards the man, Eliseo didn’t even reject his touch as he placed a hand on his cheek, watching as he slowly melted his way into his hand. “I missed this…” I missed this too hung on the edge of Damian’s tongue, letting his arms slowly scoop Eliseo into his hold. It was foreign to finally hold him again, to smell his shampoo, to feel his heat.

It felt right.

“Why didn’t you come to me directly?”

“I wanted you to want me back.” Damian let his words hang in the air as the thumping of the stage echoed through the walls, his fingers holding onto Eliseo tight as they stood there. This was too easy, too simple, he had imagined Eliseo screaming, crying, kicking, yelling at him to stay away, yet Eliseo had come to him so easily, so quickly, letting him hold him in his arms like it was where he belonged — no, scratch that, it was where he belonged.

He had dreamed of those nights where they could just go back to normal, where he would come home to Eliseo in his arms… his grip grew tighter around the other man’s waist, feeling the satin that covered his form. This hadn’t been for nothing, this had been for something, and he had it back where he wanted it.

“Why did you leave?” Damian finally muttered after the silence had entrapped them whole, allowing Eliseo to pull back to look him in the eyes. Those gorgeous blues, swimming with tears, rimmed with red against his tanned skin. A painting he wanted to forever preserve.

Yet nothing could prepare Damian for the shaky words that escaped Eliseo’s mouth, ones that shattered his world and made his soul quake in a rage that he couldn’t express; “I’m no good for you, you need someone stronger, someone who wouldn’t hesitate shooting.”

“No good?” Damian repeated, already feeling the way his skin scorched in the unspoken emotions, red eyes wanting to bulge from their sockets as the pressure built up and up; who dared make Eliseo think that, to poison his brain with untruths and lies? He would murder them all. “You’re the only one who can love me the way you do.” And it was the truth. Eliseo was the only one had grown up with him, been with him through the rocks, been in his bed with him, hell, had seen him cry — yet he couldn’t stop the tears that overflowed from his own eyes as all the feelings he had been bottling up over the past few weeks finally overflowed.

“Damian?”

Burying his face into Eliseo’s hair, Damian breathed him all in; he was here, he was in his arms, the loneliness that had been gripping his heart still remained, however, crushing him, smothering him. He just needed to hold Eliseo close, to feel his heartbeat. He could feel Eliseo’s hands pressed up against him, his hands wound tightly around something, and yet he didn’t mind the feeling of something lightly poking him in the stomach. The smell of lavender and sweat invaded his senses, the feeling of Eliseo’s sweaty hair pulling him to the ground over and over again.

The music started back up in the main room, signaling the start of another performance as Damian allowed himself to pull back, to brush away the strands of hair that had settled themselves in front of Eliseo’s blue eyes so then he could look at him in all his glory. A masterpiece, a man that no other could dare dream of loving the way he did, yet as his eyes flickered down to Eliseo’s lips, seeing the way they were parted and lightly dusted with the hint of glimmering lip balm, he could not stop himself as he swooped in to have a taste. Strawberry and a hint of vanilla, he could smell it as he allowed himself to have that small taste, but yet a small taste didn’t seem to be enough for Eliseo, pulling Damian back in for another, and another.

How he had missed this too. Damian allowed his thoughts to be thrown to the wind as he pressed Eliseo against his hips, allowing the man to devour his breath, his life, and his soul as they kissed. Eliseo may be the more subdued of the two in terms of their lifestyles, but that was never the case for them in particular, allowing Eliseo to lead the kiss as he was pushed across the room, allowing the back of his knees to hit the cushioning of the couch behind him, forced to his ass as Eliseo pressed him down.

Dressed in that lingerie, staring at him like he was some sort of piece of meat, Damian had no other choice but to feel his arousal stir as he looked up at him. Fuck, that was hot.

“Waltzing back into my life,” Eliseo muttered, “making me feel all these things so easily?” Eliseo’s legs easily straddled him as he sat there hovering, those pretty blue eyes that twisted their way into Damian’s life staring down, down into his soul. The lights of the room couldn’t reach his face anymore, overshadowed by the form that was Eliseo, his brown hair dangling down as his fingers came to slowly unbutton his shirt. His tanned skin seemed to flush more as his blood began circulating. “How naughty of you.”

Damian’s shirt was ripped open once the buttons were finished, Eliseo’s fingers spreading all over the pale skin as he sucked in a breath. Same Eliseo, those same eyes, the same ones that drank in the silky and scarred skin of Damian as if it were always his first time — it was never enough, Eliseo’s lips coming to gently nibble at the junction of his neck. “Getting into the good part already?” Damian muttered, his breaths coming out in a groan as he let his hands begin to ghost Eliseo’s waist, though with two slaps his fingers were forced to find purchase in the cushions underneath him instead.

When Eliseo didn’t want to be touched, he would make sure he had control of it. He would dangle what Damian wanted right over his head, just out of his reach, make Damian work for it as he would sit there, tortured, beginning to feel the way his cock brushed on the inside of his underwear as he had to restrain himself. A little tease, a minx, just like the way he had ran away from him.

Damian wanted to touch him, to mark him, to show him who he belonged to, but yet he found himself stilled underneath his touch and gaze, letting the other man do what he wanted.

“Good boy.”

If he died right now, he would die a happy man. Eliseo’s fingers dragged down his chest, over his nipples, down and down towards his waist band before he gently dipped them underneath, baiting a breath from Damian before he pulled them out, continuing to drag them down over his pants. Was Eliseo begging to be thrown onto the cushions and have the life fucked out of him? Was he begging to be like the photographs that he had gladly defaced with his cum? Damian thought so, his mouth going dry as Eliseo finally dragged his fingers back up, unbuckling his pants before slowly dragging down the zipper.

“How long ago did you find out I worked here?” Eliseo’s words were like a slithering snake as they snuck their way into his ears, his fingertips barely ghosting over the outline of Damian’s cock, feeling the way that it rubbed against the fabric, drawing forth a small hiss that escaped his throat.

Eliseo was really doing this here now, for what reason? Damian’s mind racked itself to find the answer as he thought back onto the many days that he had spent stalking outside of Eliseo’s flower shop and the club, feeling the heat of Eliseo’s stare on his skin as he felt the piercing gaze burrow deep into his psyche.

Had he been aware all of this time? Had he been paying attention?

Licking his lips as he felt Eliseo’s fingers grasp firmly onto his cock through his briefs, Damian finally answered, “A few weeks now…” He said, hearing the way Eliseo’s chest hummed with satisfaction at the answer, though his hand didn’t move under the briefs, instead, he pulled at the waistband until the head was barely peeking out, letting a thumb run over the neglected slit. “I found out two weeks after I saw you in the flower shop.”

“So my eyes weren’t deceiving me,” Eliseo’s smile seemed to widen, a cat’s gaze now staring down at Damian as he grinned, “That was you and Christine outside the shop today.”

“Wha— fuck.” When had Eliseo gotten a hand around the shaft? He didn’t know, but feeling the way he squeezed it hard enough to cause a twinge of pain up his spine sent shivers throughout his entire body. Holding him by the dick, staring him down, Eliseo was in the prime position of power — and looked hot while doing it too. Eliseo’s fingers slowly massaged over the shaft, his fingers and hands noticeably more toned than the last time he had found himself in this position. “Eli…” He was able to softly groan, watching the way those blue eyes glittered and shined with such mirth that he swore that he was going to be swallowed whole right then and there.

“Been watching you,” Eliseo muttered, his free hand coming to the tip to swipe at the beading of pre as he slowly leaned back closer, the smell that was so intoxicatingly Eliseo filling Damian’s senses, his chest flaring with heat as he dug his nails into the seats, “you can’t hide that blue hair from me.” That god damn kitten lick, that fucking tongue ghosting out to lick at his bottom lip, it broke the man, grabbing Eliseo’s hips and throwing him down to the cushions underneath the two of them.

Eliseo may be confident when he was in control, but watching it melt away when he found himself in the bottom position was something else. He could smell and taste the nerves that bubbled to the surfaces and revelled in the look that flashed across Eliseo’s eyes as he tried to get back up, but a firm hand on the skin of his stomach was enough to make him still.

Eliseo had his fun, but now it was Damian’s turn.

Removing the hair tie that kept his corkscrew curls from his face, his hair came from the low ponytail to hang down, letting his fingers curl themselves into Eliseo’s hair as he tied it back, leaving those brown curls away from the blue eyes he wanted to stare at. “Perfect.” Eliseo may be already mostly bared for the world to see, but to see his face as he dragged his fingers down his unmarked chest? Even better.

“Dames?” Eliseo muttered, all the prior confidence in his voice gone, though as Damian’s fingers just so gently brushed over the nipples of Eliseo’s chest, he couldn’t help himself but to tug on them gently, a breathless gasp escaping from between Eliseo’s lips. He needed more. His hands ungracefully wandered over Eliseo’s body as he stole another kiss from the man, basking in the glow that came with hearing him moan directly against his lips. It never ceased to send shudders down Damian’s spine no matter how many nights he had spent with Eliseo under him, on top of him, beside him.

This man was one that he wanted to be with again, and again, and again, no matter how many times he would have to be found. Damian lost himself in the moment, his lips, his teeth, his fingers feeling every inch of Eliseo’s exposed skin, touching him, tasting him, marking him. Damian needed him to be marked, to be bitten, to be bruised, if he weren’t any of those things then how would the world know he was taken? He needed this tanned skin to speak a sinful truth, a devil’s hymn, hearing the way he stole Eliseo’s mind with each movement, feeling the way the man under him hardened in that pretty little thong that shimmered blue against his skin. Fuck, his own mind whirled as he allowed himself to finally bask in the moment. He had him in his hands, like putty.

And he didn’t have fucking lube.

“I know that face…” Eliseo muttered, his fingers coming to brush away some of the coils that framed his face, blue eyes staring down at the dark red that were his own, “don’t over think it, we’ve been in this situation before.” Too many times. Eliseo had a point, though, and he knew it with the way his blue eyes twinkled, yet his own eyes scanned over Eliseo’s body, taking in each bite and hickey that had begun to form on his skin. “Hm?” Eliseo muttered as Damian’s body slid further down his own, brows furrowing as he stayed focus on Damian.

Perfect. He wanted him to watch this. “You worked so hard up on that stage,” Damian could feel the grin grow onto his face as he spoke, his fingers slowly hooking themselves under the dainty straps that secured it to his hips, watching the way they curled as he slowly began to slide it down his legs, just enough to watch as his cock bounced from the restraints and into the open air, already beading itself with small bits of pre. Eliseo’s brain must have clicked right then and there on what was about to happen, the man sliding one of the cheap pillows to rest under his head as he watched, blue eyes shining slightly with interest. “Sit back and let me make you feel good.”

While Damian had his fair share of pleasing Eliseo with his mouth, this was the first time that it would be on a shitty couch that looked better than it felt, with Eliseo’s eyes half lidded and one of his legs coming to curl around his shoulders. Damian took a moment to appreciate the man in front of him. How gorgeous was he, with such a gorgeous stare and an even more gorgeous cock standing at attention right in front of him? It was like a work of art, especially as Damian allowed himself to lick a slow stripe on the underside, one that he could feel the way Eliseo’s thigh clenched near his head.

Perfect.

Oh so perfect.

“Damian…” Eliseo could go louder than that, he knew he could. With the music that played out in the main area and the distance they were, Damian wanted to hear that man scream his throat raw, even if it meant he would have to go hours for it.

“That’s it, that’s me.” Saliva gathered in Damian’s mouth, willing it to pool on his tongue before he spat some into his hand. Even if Eliseo muttered a soft ‘gross’ from above, he knew that it was at least better to use than nothing at all, especially as he began to slowly pump at the throbbing flesh, feeling the way it almost seemed to grow a bit more in his grasp. He was so easily pleased, no matter the time of day, yet hearing the soft gasps and whimpers that escaped Eliseo’s mouth at the sensation, he knew he hit the jackpot.

“Feels better when you do it.” Eliseo muttered just barely loud enough for him to hear, seeing the way the muscles in his belly grew taut at the struggle of not thrusting up into the warm hand that encompassed his cock. Damian could imagine all those nights where Eliseo would have to pleasure himself, probably thinking about the way he would touch him, and he couldn’t help but smile at the thought, lightly nuzzling his cheek into the thigh next to his head. “Do the thing with your thumb.”

Damian could feel his own throat vibrate slightly as he processed the request, his eyes drifting down to the darkened head of the cock in his hand, seeing the way the slit bubbled slightly with milky white that slowly mixed with the sweat on his skin. He didn’t need to even say words, placing the pad of his thumb over the slit and pushing down slightly — he would never get tired of seeing the way his back arched with that, the whine that escaped from Eliseo’s mouth in such a pretty whisper being one that he would save in his mind next to the other ones.

His own hardened shaft was beginning to chafe against his underwear and the seat under him, grunting slightly as he lifted his hips up just enough to rid himself of any fabric that could rub against it, the other massaging the slit on Eliseo, hearing the way the man uttered his name.

“That’s it, that’s my name.” He needed to taste him, to have the taste of sweat and Eliseo on his tongue, slowly replacing his hand with his mouth, he kept his eyes trained up on those gorgeous blue eyes as he took him all in. The taste, the smell, it was all him, mixed in with whatever perfume he wore that night. How had he been able to go so long without this taste on his tongue he didn’t know, but to have him now? It was a dream come true.

His heart was hammering in his chest, so full of emotion that he couldn’t place, but yet what man needed to have emotions named when he could follow the instinct of his cock? Yeah, that seemed about right.

Pretty faces, pretty emotions, he could feel how Eliseo’s fingers weaved themselves into his hair and pulled softly, Damian allowing his mouth to pull back with a satisfying pop, eyes half lidded as he stared up at the man. Eliseo’s face was flushed, sweat glistening his body in such a way that he looked like an angel laying there in a pile of sin, the lace of the underwear brushing slightly against his chin as he pressed a soft kiss to the underside of the shaft. “Yes?” Damian said, watching the way Eliseo’s mouth struggled to form words. If he wanted something, he needed to vocalise it, if he wanted it to be done, so be it. “I know you can speak, come on.” Shifting himself into a sitting position, well above Eliseo, he waited.

Yet he couldn’t stop his hands from resting upon his waist when Eliseo came to sit on his lap, the underwear brushing against his own cock and causing him to softly hiss. That felt nice, especially with the heat of their bodies, of the room, feeling the way his shirt stuck to the skin of his back as he sat there, looking up at Eliseo. “Baby?”

“It’s not fair I’m the only one feeling good.” Eliseo’s word was final, gathering some of his own spit into his palm, taking a short break from speaking. His voice was already so raw, so true, Damian able to hear the way it strained to keep itself even as Eliseo sat there, thinking carefully about his next move, “Keep me steady?” He didn’t need to ask twice, Damian’s hands anchoring the other man to the spot, one hand spreading its fingers over the small of Eliseo’s back as the other focused on his own goal.

“This position reminds me of the day I told you I love you.” Damian muttered, Eliseo’s hand pausing its movements, just barely touching both of their cocks as he waited, listening, “Apparently you wanted to fuck me so bad that you couldn’t even wait until we got back to my place.”

“You were the one that told that girl that you were ‘going to fuck your ass’.” Damian’s cheeks warmed at the memory, yet his chest remained hotter still at the way Eliseo threw his head back to laugh, the absurdity of that situation dawning on him as this was the exact position the two of them had been in on that night, where lube hadn’t yet been bought and emotions ran high. “Yes, I remember that, Damian.” And just like that night, Damian placed a gentle kiss to the Adam’s apple of his throat, stealing Eliseo’s breath away.

“Still think of that ni- fuck.” And Eliseo didn’t hesitate on stealing his, Damian letting out a low groan as he felt Eliseo’s hand hold them together, beginning to slowly pump at their warm flesh. The friction was delicious, the warmth so much, Damian allowing his face to nuzzle into Eliseo’s shoulder as he muttered soft praises to whatever god was above. This man was like a holy grail, so perfect and fine and so devilishly tempting — biting into whatever apple that had been behind that smile had been the best decision he had ever made.

No one could be like Eliseo, no one could even think about coming close enough to be him. Eliseo was the only Eliseo that he cared for and loved, feeling the way his nails began to dig themselves into the flesh of his hips and back. He needed to consume his scent, his taste, him, keep him close, never let him go. Nobody could take him away from Eliseo, no one could even dream about making him feel as good as the way he did, his tanned hand around his cock, his fingers brushing against the pulse on his neck.

Those pretty moans.

Fuck, he wanted to be inside of him now. He could imagine how tight he was, nobody else having come even close to staining the inside of Eliseo with their filthy cum; it was only him that could do that, only Damian himself that could dream of being inside of Eliseo here. Only Damian could feel the pleasure that came with being so close to Eliseo, to feel his hand and cock as they were pumped away, sending shudders and shivers down his back with each moment.

“As soon as I can,” Damian began to mutter into heated skin, hearing Eliseo’s pulse against his ear, “I’m going to fucking ruin you.” His words were strained, hard to get out with the way Eliseo teased him, baited him, held him, each word threatening to turn into a moan as he spoke. He needed to say this, to hear the way Eliseo’s heart beat paused at the idea. “Need to make you take me so fucking deep.” He could picture it now, the way Eliseo would be bouncing and crying and begging him to cum, maybe even with a pretty little choker on, one that would scream his name.

“Keep going…” Eliseo begged, his own words choked as he pressed a finger down against the prominent vein on Damian’s throbbing erection, “Tell me what you would do.”

How this man drove him wild with such simple words. His lips curled upwards, his teeth nipping at a bit of skin. Frankly, Eliseo was getting off easy; they still had to walk in public, he still had to show off most of his skin, he was so lucky that even if that outfit drove him wild that Damian had some restraint. As much as he wanted to suck and bite that beautiful skin black and blue, he would rather not draw attention to the two of them.

A hand went from Eliseo’s hip, gently trailing its way up his hip, his chest, letting his thumb gently graze over a perked nipple. “I would make you feel like such a prince before you descend into a screaming, crying mess, bathe you, feed you, then I would have you on your knees before me.”

He lost the ability to think about what he was going to say next after it, each word flowing from his lips like a waterfall. Fuck the ability to think, fuck the ability to even communicate the million thoughts into one comprehensible sentence, he needed to see that face as he came. He was going to make him scream and cry and beg for him to fuck him properly, even if the whole damn club could hear them. His hand easily shoved Eliseo’s away from their cocks, taking them into his sweaty spit slicked palm as he began to pump at them, the rhythm almost non-existent beyond the need to paint Eliseo’s stomach in a mixture of their white. Eliseo’s breath was like a bear, growling, grunting, the sharp point of each hitting Damian’s skin like a sharp fang, Damian’s fingers gripping so tight yet kept moving, kept pumping, rubbing, feeling that coil build up faster than he had ever found it before.

He really was no better than an animal, a rabbit, desperate to breed, desperate to fuck, his mind pulsing with each thought that rushed through his mind. Fuck, fuck, fuck, it was too fucking good, feeling the way his own cock throbbed and twitched before he finally came to his end, barely able to contain the groan that escaped his mouth before he sealed Eliseo’s lips in a searing, scorching kiss. A few more movements of his own hand and Eliseo was right there with him, their bodies trembling in their embrace as Damian savoured the feeling of the high. As the blood began to rush back to his brain, filling it with thoughts beyond fucking, Damian’s red eyes wandered Eliseo’s shuddering form once he had pulled back, his breath pinched by the moment and heavy, taking pride in each of the bite marks that were present along his shoulders, his neck, his chest.

He looked like such a good ruined man.

“Haven’t came like that in a while.” Eliseo’s first words came out in a soft chuckle, his lips shiny, bruised and red and yet his smile was still warm, trembling hands coming to cup Damian’s cheeks as he gave him a soft kiss. Compared to all the others, the ones filled with tongue, teeth and lust, this one was soft, calm, one that allowed his eyes to flutter shut as he allowed himself to push into it, letting the moment go by in such peace. “I missed you.”

“I knew you did.”

Damian didn’t need his coat, he could just carry it on the way out. Taking the jacket of the suit he had been wearing and using it to wipe up the mess, it was like pins and needles had overtaken his entire skin as it seemed to be so sensitive, too tender to brush, his spine tingling with little shocks of pain as he did so. Thank God he had decided to clean up, hearing a few knocks at the door as the two struggled to fix themselves to something decent, the same pimply-faced man that had bought them here poked his head in.

“Ah, good, you’re not fucking the dancer.” Were the manager’s only words as he removed himself, shutting the door behind him again.

The silence was deafening for a moment, the two of them turning their heads to slowly look at each other before snickers slowly begun, full blown laughter not too far off as Eliseo’s head dropped into the crook of Damian’s shoulder, the smell of sweat and sex hanging heavily in the air all the meanwhile. “I knew he was a virgin,” Eliseo began, blue eyes twinkling with mirth as he slowly pulled back, “he doesn’t even know what it looks like.”

Time was running out, the red card that had been left on the door being the indicator. Making sure that nothing struck out as odd, the two allowed their blood to cool, their breaths to even before they even thought of stepping out of the room.

“I’ll meet you outside in ten, yeah?”

“Wouldn’t dream of missing it.”

The air was cooler now that the sun had gone down, the street lights being the only thing that illuminated the space as Damian leaned against his car, rolling the cigarette between his fingers as he muttered under his breath. Despite the years he had been smoking, it was like he was a beginner every time he rolled a stick, the tobacco always finding a way to not stay completely within the paper, making his brow twitch in frustration. “Damn it…”

“I thought you stopped smoking?”

The cigarette dropped onto the bonnet as Damian cursed, allowing himself to turn around to face Eliseo where he stood. Outside of the club, up close, Damian couldn’t help but notice that his sweater was a bit bigger than what he normally would wear, Damian’s hands balled into fists behind him. “That’s my sweater.” It had been, back when he hadn’t been the head of a mafia, back when he and Eliseo were able to have a little bit of more freedom to do what they wanted, but the sauce stain on the collar was new, Eliseo’s blue eyes seeming to pop against the maroon. Shaking his head slightly, he focused back on Eliseo’s question, feeling how his fingers began to throb with pain as he uncurled them. “Bad habit.”

Eliseo's hand raised and Damian reached for it, but Eliseo passed him to pluck the cigarette from the bonnet before working it between his fingers, the paper and tobacco melding together into one. Eliseo worked quickly and swiftly, placing the butt of it between Damian’s lips before he could even protest.

No words were needed between the two, Damian picked up his lighter before letting the embers burn, the first hit of the nicotine hitting Damian’s lungs like a tidal wave, the relief that settled into his bones spreading through his entire body. The hit of the cigarette was a high that slowly ebbed away as he allowed the smoke slowly billowed out from his nostrils, away from Eliseo who took a spot next to him. The silence passed like a ticking clock, Damian working through his cigarette, allowing his fingers to slowly work their way into Eliseo’s.

He missed nights like this.

No talking, no discussion, just allowing the two of them to bask in each other’s presence, allowing for them to just exist without talking, just touching, just looking, Damian’s thumb slowly grazing the back of Eliseo’s knuckles. Only a few minutes ago, or at least it felt like it, they were going at it like wild animals, screaming, crying, looking at each other for the first time in what felt like years. “I’m sorry.” Eliseo’s words cut through that silence, Damian’s head snapping to look down at him. Sorry? He could hear Eliseo gulp slightly, watching the way tears caught on his lashes in the starlit moonlight. “I shouldn’t have ran away. I’m a coward.”

Damian’s grip tightened slightly on Eliseo, the cigarette falling from his mouth and onto the wet concrete below, his foot stubbing out the ember as Damian forced Eliseo closer, smelling the remnants of what shampoo hadn’t been washed away by the smell of sex, smoke and whisky from the club. Damian couldn’t even make a sentence in his mind or push one from his mouth, his arms sneaking their way around Eliseo’s waist, his chin resting on top of his head.

“You don’t have to be sorry for anything,” Damian’s mouth was dry, the words slowly wavering as they came, “You weren’t born into this life.” He shouldn’t even need to have to worry about him not coming home. He could feel the veins in his neck slightly bulge as he thought about the fear that went through Eliseo’s mind every day, at the concerns that had probably bubbled up when he was in prison… Eliseo, oh Eliseo, how did he deal with it?

He could hear Eliseo breathe in, his shoulders shuddering, though as he looked up at him to speak the sounds of gunshots rang out. Screaming, rushing people and the sound of platforms hitting the concrete as a familiar head of white hair came sprinting out the front door. “Start the fucking car!” How she ran in those stripper heels, Damian didn’t know, but Christ this wasn’t something he had expected now.

“Chrissy?”

Damian’s eyes bulged as he opened the passenger door, shoving Eliseo in, throwing open one of the back doors before he slid over the bonnet of the car and into the driver’s side, jamming the keys into the ignition and hearing the car roar to life as Christine flew into the car, the door slamming right behind her. “Drive!” Tires screeched and the engine roared as Damian pulled out of the parking lot, hearing the chaotic beeps of other cars as he tore down the road, most likely leaving burn marks on the blackened road.

His left-hand side mirror was taken out by a bullet, Eliseo yelled as it shattered, shards of glass hitting the window.

“What the fuck Christine?” Damian finally shouted once he ensured he had control of the car, using a hand to shove Eliseo towards the floor, his own head low as he swerved through traffic, glancing into the rearview mirror every once in a while to look at the cars behind them, “I thought you were hanging low?”

“I was!” Christine said in a huff, her makeup running down her face from sweat as she lay in the back seat, Damian taking note of the handprint mark that had begun to form on her pale skin and the torn clothes she wore. “I wasn’t planning on getting into this situation either!”

A driver laid down their horn as Damian cut them off, the side road that cut through buildings smelling like the sewer as they drove through, Eliseo’s blue eyes staring wide up at him. Fuck, great, perfect way of being together with him only an hour after getting him back; get stuck in a possible car chase and hopefully not get your head blown off.

“Christy, what did you do?” Damian began to slow once he didn’t see anyone following them, Eliseo and Christine, who began to nervously giggle, rising further up their seats, Christine’s fake colour eyes staring at him in the rearview mirror. “Christine.”

“I may have…” Her words slowly descended into mumbles, her gaze filtering away from the mirror before Damian called her name again with more venom in his voice, Christine’s back straightening at the simple uttering of her name. Oh, he was going to kill her. “I kicked Fergus in the balls.”

Before Damian could allow the cuss words to fly, Eliseo cut in, his face turning to look at Christine with a smile as he said, “Good, been wanting to do that for a while myself.” As fast as Damian’s mouth had opened, it gaped like a fish, red eyes taking a moment to stare at Eliseo before staring back at the road, slowly driving around a cat that seemed to want to stay in the middle of the road. “He grab you?”

“Yep.”

That explained the handprint. Letting his heart settle, the roaring pound of it vibrating his chest with each thunderous beat, Damian’s fingers slowly loosened from around the wheel, the death grip he had causing them to throb as the blood flowed back into his fingertips. He didn’t know how long he had been driving until he found himself in front of his home, cutting the engine as he sat in silence for a moment, allowing the situation to simmer in his mind. That had been close, way too close, staring back at Christine in the back mirror as she slowly raised something into his view.

A phone.

“I also got some blackmail.” Watching as she flicked open the phone’s top, her eyes looking down at the screen, she began to idly tap away at the stolen phone as he turned to Eliseo, seeing how he sat in the seat, his fingers gripping onto his pants tight despite the smile that was on his face.

“Eliseo?” Damian gently cooed, reaching out to grasp his hand, watching as Eliseo’s fingers slowly released the fabric to grip onto his, giving a gentle squeeze, “I’m sorry—.”

“I was planning on quitting for a while anyway.” Eliseo cut in, blue eyes staring at him. That’s right, this wasn’t the same Eliseo that had hid behind him before he had gone to prison, this Eliseo had gone and chased his own desires and wants, had been dancing in clubs in order to make a living. This man couldn’t be scared off that easily, raising his hand to give a gentle kiss at his fingers. “I’m going to call the owner tomorrow, tell him not to roster me on anymore.” So confident, and forward, Damian could feel as his eyes crinkled at the corners as he smiled.

What a man.

“So, you guys just going to stare at each other all night?” Christine’s face came into view, her contacts gone as she looked between the two men, “I’m feeling like take out, you guys want Chinese?”

“You’re buying it.”

“You’re so mean!”

Twenty minutes away, in the depths of what belonged to the Aftons, Fergus grumbled as he sat in the club, the people emptied out as Felix passed him an ice pack. “Stupid bitch…”

“Doesn’t seem that stupid if she was able to get the upper hand on you, fellow.” Felix’s golden eyes glittered in the dark as he spoke, almost seeming to dance around the space as he went to and from tables, picking up whatever scraps of food he could find, “A bit foolish to go after another esteemed gang, don’t you think?”

“Fuck off.”

Felix’s shoulders shrugged upwards as he scraped a plate of its nachos, the man not seeming to care about the hostility that came from Fergus’s throat, nor the gun that remained loaded by his side. He knew that if Fergus even thought of shooting at him that he would have to deal with Baby herself.

Though the thought of filleting the larger man was tempting, his nails were freshly manicured, holding them up to the light as he allowed himself to examine the pretty paint. “She could have done worse,” he muttered to himself, running his tongue over his bottom lip, “that woman’s as crazy as us.”

Making his way to the man, Felix finally helped Fergus to his feet, stepping over dead bodies as he helped him to the door. This place wasn’t anything special anyway, well, to Felix it wasn’t, his boots leaving trails across the floor as the blood flowed and pooled.

As long as Felix wasn’t going to get in trouble for causing chaos on what was meant to be neutral property, then he was fine with this.

#fnaf smut #five nights at freddy's smut #glamrock bonnie #glamrock bonnie smut #fnaf glamrock freddy #fnaf au #glamrock freddy #glamrock freddy smut #fronnie #fronnie smut #glamrock fronnie #smut #alternate universe #mafia au #fnaf mafia au #commissioned fic

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sulky-star-cluster · 2 months

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All of you who keep up with the sulky star cluster.

We are going to have a time jump!

Those of you who are wondering why the hell we would do a time jump. Remember this. The sulky star cluster is crossover sensitive. It is one of my only ask series that is crossover sensitive. And although this might be strange to some. The crossovers I do outside of silky star cluster continue on without it. And so it needs a bit of time to catch up with some events.

So we are going to perform a little time jump. Here's all the things that happened during said time jump.

Glam Freddy is able to remove the bomb from Algol.

Any characters that had a chance of moving in have moved in. Black Star is slightly grumping about this but is happy about it otherwise. (Here's a tag for all the possible people with AUs that could move in. @digimonlover09 @sigery @madcatdaderpydrawer-blog artoutoftheblue shattered-sparks @churchydragon @eclipsedcrystalstar )

List of my characters that have moved in.

Sundown, runaway, chased, actual dad, story created in ash, empty cup (These are all alternatives not ones that have been adopted before.)

Algol is able to avoid Black Star for the entirety of the time. Although he has gained the courage to run around elsewhere.

Cygnus has attempted slight repairs. Mostly for his chest area. (This might internally be so I don't have to draw the scars on his chest anymore because I forget them too much)

Rigel has made the garage into an auto place. Basically holds there vehicles. He has also officially opened a wall in Roxy raceway so that his salon can be more public.

All the characters will it be exploring outside of the pizza place now. They might be in different places. Such as Antares visiting the library.

And I think that's basically it. There might be smaller things here and there but that's the essentials of the time skip.

Onwards to the scheduled programming!

#sulky star cluster

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aurorawritestoescape · 11 months

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I’m currently working on the Devil in Me pt2 and hope to post it this week! Here’s a little preview and a moodboard!😈

Part 1 Devil!Dieter Bravo x reader

Pt1 Summary: being an aspiring actress but failing to succeed, you decide to use an unorthodox method to get the desirable money and fame. You perform a summoning ritual in order to sell your soul to the Devil. Lucky for you, he pays you a visit and happens to be devilishly handsome.

Pt2 Preview

Tw: 🔞 minors dni, smut, angst

The Devil made good on his promise - you got it all and then some more. The world’s N1 sweetheart. Everyone loved you, wanted to please you or be with you, whichever you desired from them was easily obtainable. Your Oscar acceptance speech was touching and ended with a perfect joke. The audience ate it all up- your heartwarming tears, shaking hands and trembling lips. You were a great actress, after all.

Yet after you left the stage and set your eyes on the award, which many would have died for, only a shadow of joy brushed your heart. A black hole in your chest, your usual companion those days, was sucking all the emotions out of you. All but one - longing for Him. Sometimes the yearning resembled an itch of a mosquito bite, easily ignored, but at times it would devour your whole being - the lines of a scene would evaporate from your head, you would space out during interviews and miss a journalist’s question. Dreams about the Devil haunted you and messed with your sleep, forcing your glam team to use extra concealer under your eyes. In those dreams his hands roamed all over you, a vivid heat of his mouth caressed your breasts, belly and cunt, leaving your sweat-coated body spent and sore in the morning.

😈

Let me know if you’d like to be tagged in Pt2! 🩵

#devil!dieter bravo x you #dieter bravo x reader #fanfic #pedro pascal characters #devil au #pedro pascal #dieter bravo x you

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vikkirosko · 2 years

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Hii!! Can I request a soulmate AU with Glam, Chess and Heavy meeting their soulmate?

Headcanons Soulmates

💖 Glam x Reader 🎸

When Glam was a teenager he didn't believe in soulmates. Since childhood, there have been words on his wrist that he should have heard from his soulmate, but the older he got, the worse they could be seen because of the scars his father left him. But in his memory remained the words that he had wanted so much for many years. He didn't think he'd ever hear those words until he met you

Glam felt excited but tried to stay calm. At first he wasn't sure that you were really his destiny, but each time he became more and more convinced of it. He really fell in love with you and, as he soon found out, it was mutual

Every time you saw the scars on his wrist, it hurt for him. You kissed his wrist every time, trying to take away the pain he went through. Sometimes he would look at the phrase on your wrist and gently stroke the letters with his fingertips. His heart was warmed by the fact that he had a soulmate and caused a sincere smile on his lips

Next to you, Glam forgot about the difficulties of the past. Next to you, he had a bright future that previously seemed to him only a dream. He was free from the oppression of his father and could be happy with the person he loved. That was enough for him to feel happy

🎮 Heavy x Reader 🐱

Since childhood, Heavy listened to his father's stories about soulmates and dreamed that someday he, too, would meet his soulmate. When the long-awaited red thread appeared on his finger, he felt ecstatic and several times tried to go look for the person to whom it leads, but Glam always stopped him, saying that when the time came he would meet his soulmate. He couldn't wait for this day, imagining a variety of scenarios

You and Heavy met at school. You were a new student who had just transferred and Heavy immediately noticed that his red thread was reaching out to you. He couldn't wait for the lesson to end so he could talk to you. When the lesson finally ended, he hurried to you. You were both excited to finally meet and you were hoping that you could talk about everything after the end of the school day

You began to spend time together often. Heavy was glad that he could spend so much time with you. At home, he enthusiastically told his parents about his soulmate. Glam and Vicky were surprised that he met you at such a young age, but they were happy for him. Glam suggested that he invite you to visit to introduce you to his family. Heavy was delighted with this idea, wanting to bring it to life as soon as possible

You and Heavy were still young and you had a whole life ahead of you that you were going to spend together. It was rare for soulmates to meet each other as early as you did, but it gave you more time that you could spend together. You weren't going to rush somewhere, wanting to enjoy all the time you could spend together

🧄 Chive x Reader 🎸

When Chive was a child, he looked with interest at someone else's name written on his wrist. He knew that this was the name of his soulmate and that when this person appeared in his life, he would be happy to find true love, but when he got a little older, his confidence in this became less. He saw his mother who hated the name written on her wrist and doubted that soulmate would make him happy. Eventually, he stopped thinking about finding his soulmate. So when he met you, he didn't pay attention to the fact that it was your name that was written on his wrist

He never wondered whose name was written on your wrist. He had a good time with you. Next to you, he felt calm and warm in his chest. He was sure that this was the case when soulmates didn't matter and that it didn't matter whose name was written on the wrist. He was sure of it until one day he saw you looking at your wrist thoughtfully. His name was written on your wrist and he was sure it was him. In his entire life, he had never met a single person with the same name

Chive took a little time to accept the fact that you were soulmates all this time. He denied the need for this for many years in order to eventually find his happiness with his soulmate. It seemed ironic to him, but he wasn't going to break off your relationship. He truly loved you, regardless of whether his name was written on your wrist or not

If Chive had been told as a child that he would meet a beautiful and loving soulmate, he would have been delighted. He was older now, but he was still glad he met you. Next to you, he forgot about the bad episodes of his life. His life began to seem brighter and he hoped that you could continue to illuminate his life

#Metal Family #Metal Family x Reader #Metal Family headcanons #Glam #Glam x Reader #Heavy #Heavy x Reader #Chive #Chive x Reader

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amememightywarrior · 1 year

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Mom's Adventures in Eorzea, Part 2

OH MY GOD THE DRAFT DIDN'T SAVE i have to do this AGAIN anyway here we go

Dec 26, 2021

Off we go! Heavensward!! (mom winced at the singer in the trailer)

But first we tested my rez macro She promptly used it before I could use self-destruct so I ended up having to explain swiftcast belatedly to her. HOWEVER! it works!!

Mom looking at Artoirel and Emmanellain: "...and other son and daughter?" me: "...they're both sons" Damn you MSQ, why don't you have more female elezen

All righty just told her the manservant was gonna show her around so I'm not going to take her anywhere XD She thinks Tataru is extra excited about visiting the clothes market so she can find more things to dye pink

on Elaisse: "She's the first one who actually looks old!" (She doesn't think Edmont looks his age)

She thought the jester hat she got sounded cool! But then she put it on! and now her head piece is once again hidden. In selecting which brother to help first: "Which one is the jerk? I wanna smack him." So she's going with Artoirel XD

*sarcastically* "I bet he's very popular"

"I don't need a chocobo! I have a SNOWMAN!"

Me: Oh yeah you can't fly in these zones, you have to collect aether currents now Mom: D:<

if you're on goblin and you see two snowmen bouncing across coerthas that's probably us

on Deepeyes: "That red thing is its eye?!"

"All this nice peaceful music when you're killing things is jarring..."

"This duty is all about getting lost in a blizzard" "Oh great"

*gets ambushed in the house basement* "WHOA!"

Iceheart says "We can do naught else, for we are as one" So...does she think herself tempered by Shiva? Hmm

Artoirel: Pity Iceheart escaped but blah blah Mom: She didn't escape though? We just let her walk away... Me: ...yeeeeup.

After Artoirel admits his fault I asked my mom if that was good for smacking him and she said yes

All righty, Emmanellain's task will have to wait til tomorrow!

The casting robe she got was black and grey so we ended up going to the inn room and messing with her glam before we stopped for the day XD

Dec 27, 2021

Mom: "Okay I'm out of bed (in game), all rested up! Let's kill some stuff!"

*reading Emmanellain talking about being trueborn* "They're both assholes."

Chew time

as we run past a lalafell's chocobo: "It's like a giant chicken!"

My mom is carefully running around the chocobo because she doesn't want to step on it

The struggle of targeting a quest spot with controller when you're in the middle of a FATE with lots of targets

just a couple of snowmen bouncing around sea of clouds

*After waking Emmanellain* "Oh...well, that backfired on her."

She's very invested in how the gear looks

Honoroit: Lord Emmanellain has been gone an awfully long time. Mom: He's probably drowned in two inches of water.

she asked me if his rock was gonna be bad and if we were gonna see a temper tantrum just before this

Emmanellain: NORTHOTA I'M OVER HERE Mom: Thanks for ruining my sneak attack

Mom: How does Haurchefant know this is happening? He wasn't even here... Me: You'll find out

*Bismarck appears* "........all righty then."

She's pleased to see Cid XD

*Haurchefant leaps aboard the airship* "Showoff!"

*after the umpteenth attack by a gaelicat* "Seriously, everything attacks you here!!"

*After Laniaitte shoots Emmanellain down yet again* "Hah! She's mean :D"

she's disappointed we missed edmont smacking emmanellain

THE FURY HAS SPOKEN HW members slapped down by a couple of book-wielding nerds

yaaaay HW flying unlocked

"I didn't realize my blue was the same as their blue, I'm gonna have to change!" (She used Royal Blue for her chest piece)

I forgot how deep Zephirin's voice was, goddamn

Me: Now we get to go to Limsa! Mom: So I can teleport? Me: Yep, and you won't get arrested on sight! Mom: *dryly* That's good to know.

Sleeping during gaming time is just so exhausting

"Who's Lolorito?" "Mask, white moustache, shows up in ominous cutscenes with lightning flashing in the background as he appears to be the mastermind..." "Oh."

Had to stop and stare at someone with the Adamantoise mount as it spun wildly midair with fire coming out

Picking a different color for her robe so we avoid fashion faux pas for the rest of Heavensward Aaaand we're done til her next weekend!

Jan 1, 2021

Snack time as we work through heavensward

"Oh yeah you can use the left side (of the cross hotbar) so you can hit as many as possible" "GOOD"

And now it is belly rub time

After getting the quest to question various convictors: "And now I get to talk to all these people who won't tell me anything useful AGAIN."

"Ah yes we finish celebrating year of the ox and now we get to go kill one." *after seeing a woolly yak* "...bighorn sheep...?"

Ysayle: *prepares to monologue* Mom: *turns to me* "Are we about to find out we're helping MORE bad guys?"

can't wait to reveal to my mom that hraesvelgr is just a depressing old fart

Estinien whips out the eye and my mom goes: "That's really small, considering the dragons we've seen..."

All right, she elected to do all the aether current quests to unlock flying first since we're here XD Which means DUSK VIGIL

Freebird: Coerthas Western Highlands obtained!

my favorite part of SMN is when ifrit just hares off to parts unknown and unsummons itself

Mom: "Holy rainbow!" Me: "Yep. Throw it on and see what it looks like!" Mom: "OH MY GOD I LOOK LIKE A PIRATE I LOVE IT"

Estinien: WATCH YOURSELF DRAGON OR I'LL GOUGE OUT ONE OF YOURS Mom: Oh that's helpful

Vidofnir: THOU ART IMAGINE THYSELF EQUAL TO THE TASK Mom: Oh please! Primals are just another notch on my belt!

She discovered her wind-up Onion Knight, declared she wanted it, saw it run with its crazy little legs going...it's her new favorite. And just now she saw its little sword hacking motion and cackled.

Jan 2, 2021

we're back on our nonsense again

Mom: *puts on holy rainbow pants and studies her toon* I can live with that. Me: *laughing* Mom: There's NO TELLING what it could've looked like!! The jester skirt still haunts me!

Estinien: *talks* Mom: He just needs to be slapped.

Mom: "I've really got a swagger with this outfit!"

as the gnath summon ravana: Is it like a giant bug? as ravana appears: Good heavens.

on Ravana: "He's being very polite, he could've just chopped her up while she was summoning Shiva"

when the song kicks in on second part of ravana fight: "HE SINGS???" Apparently she found it very distracting XD

dps in sohm al giving us smn tips...thank you very much XD

She loves her wind-up Onion Knight and stopped doing MSQ to watch him wave his little sword

All righty, we stopped just before the churning mists moogles got to start annoying us but she already views Moglin's 'Trials of Trustworthiness' with much dubiousness.

Jan 3, 2021

I made the Trials of Trustworthiness easier by flying my mom everywhere because FUCK MOOGLES

Estinien is now 'The person most likely to get me in trouble', according to her

I discovered the zurvan weapons and showed them to her and now both of us want zurvan weapons because SHINY LIGHT TRAILS

Me: Kan-E-Senna is just explaining that Estinien is very angsty and will probably be a problem Mom: ... Me: ...like he wasn't a problem already. Mom: I was gonna say

a wild hraesvelgr appears

mom after the big reveal about the nature of primals and Ysayle collapses: uh oh

after hraesvelgr flaps away: well that was productive (the revelations have blown her mind)

Estinien: I shall be surprised if my armor is not stained crimson ere this conflict is ended Mom, dramatically: "My armor cleaning bill is going to be through the roof!"

a brief pitstop to touch up the glam and we are on our way once more

Mom: There she is. *to Meriel's back* You are in SUCH deep doo-doo.

Sultana awakened and Braves disbanded...that's all til next weekend.

Jan 9, 2021

It's the weekend, you know what time it is... SHENANIGANS WITH MOM

The Aery unlocked~

Hey, there are Allagan ruins in here...

@nofearsnolimits requesting explanation

"Now he's all covered in blood!" "So if Nidhogg is dead, what use are the eyes?" "Ooo I got 3 crystals back now"

me: HE'S GOT TWO EYES mom: ...did he give one back or something??

"I'd be afraid to make any sudden movements in that outfit" *referring to Haldrath's dragoon armor*

*After getting the other eyeball* "Where am I supposed to put this? I have no pouches!" me: "You have plenty of pouches, just none big enough." Mom: "NEITHER DOES [Estinien]! HE HAS TO PUT THEM UP HIS BUTT!"

after estinien yells at ysayle: "he deserved to be doused in dragon blood...just saying."

As Ysayle is stopping the heretics: "She's yelling at like 6 people." Me: "Yeah, well...budget."

suggestions along the lines of hosing Estinien down have been made

I like Edmont looking away to the floor when Lucia says "Even the holiest among us are not immune to temptation"

Dawn in the Brume as we once again run to rescue Tataru

All righty, stopped just before we get into the fight with Charibert, that'll all be tomorrow... the Vault is coming...

Jan 10, 2021

Will my mom get to the vault today? stay tuned to this thread and find out

*Charibert arrives* "Who's he??" "One of the Heavens' Ward, twelve knights who protect the archbishop." "Ohh so he was one of the ones around that table." she remembers :O

Lucia: "ENOUGH!" Mom: "Too little too late."

She just started A Knight's Calling ;_;

she's excited to be going above ground instead of through someone's basement torture chamber

just reviewed how to rez on SMN while we wait for a friend to get out of a dungeon

she managed to rez someone but then I let both dps die RIP she called Charibert a bad penny XD

here it is. the cutscene.

"That's too bad... :( they don't resurrect him or anything?" "no" "I'm sorry you had to watch that again, then"

One of her observations as Edmont is clearly grieving: "In contrast to the bastard archbishop and his son" (in terms of emotion/relationship)

update: she is willing to throw the archbishop in the garbage where he belongs

Now she's trying to figure out what he's up to... XD

PRIMALSSSSSS anyway we're pausing MSQ to do our job quests because we're both missing some skills cough cough

"Why is this person standing on the rock with a red dress and bunny ears" "some people wanna be admired" *later* "okay go to drybone..." "I wanna stand on the rock with bunny girl here!" *the player changes glams and waves* "some people play this game for very different reasons"

"DOG YOU SMELL SO BAD" the time for Brie to be bathed approaches...

we've been doing our job quests separately, my mom has gotten much better at navigating on her own :D

Aaaand done for the day~

Got some new skills that I do not know how to use but tool tips say they're all AoEs so I put them in the right spot on her hotbar...

Jan 16, 2021

Been playing with my mom but nothing too exciting other than Bismarck eating an island and me figuring out how dreadwyrm trance works so my mom can beat up the striking dummy

"So the whale...just ate the key." "Yep."

Brie started wagging her tail in her sleep

limitless blue...

queued up and ready to gooooo

Bismarck down! Mom: "Soooo where's the key" Me: "You'll find out"

Archbishop: "I see you have what we want" *looks at key* Mom: "QUICK, SWALLOW IT"

"Now I'm gonna spend a ton of time getting it back, aren't I."

Mom: So where is MY team...Cid and everyone and the ship Me: They're towing the island Mom: UGH

"With my outfit Alphinaud looks like a mini-me!"

This is what she's currently in, btw

upon seeing the airship: "...that's big. Is that gonna get us to Azys Lla?" Me: "Nope"

Done for the day, tomorrow...more HW!

Jan 17, 2021

mom and i back on our bullshit again

She said the sea of clouds makes her palms sweat because she's afraid she'll fall off, so I had her try to run off an edge to reassure her

Edmont says Tataru is super excited, mom says, "I can't even imagine Tataru more excited than she usually is, squeaking like a mouse..."

mom deeply confused by Urianger putting goggles over his goggles

me: *starts doing moonlift dance* mom: you're very distracting me: THAT'S THE POINT

Mom about Y'shtola in the lifestream: So she's broken up in little particles like Willy Wonka?

"Wrapped her up like an egg roll" "We call that a purrito" "A phhh--hahaha"

"Were her eyes always that color...?" "Nope." "Ah, okay."

Mom, about the Idyllshire goblins: Have we seen these before...

"They all look the same under those masks don't they" "we don't know" *later* "And now he (brayflox) is taking all the credit" "she" "...she. You can't tell!" "Sure you can!" "..." and so I explained goblin naming conventions to her

I think my mom likes Matoya

Gubal unlocked, gonna save that for tomorrow!

"You were right, it does get a lot more interesting! It just takes a while to get there."

Jan 18, 2021

Hey. Guess what time it is. That's RIGHT it's GAME TIME WITH MOM

Review of Gubal: Sliding around on ice was lots of fun! the orbs exploding and stopping the summoning was NOT fun XD

"So if I jump off the bridge I would die?" "Yes (when something's chasing you" "Ugggghhh so many ruuuules"

Me as Matoya translates the tome: That's what you call google translate...GUBAL translate! HAHAHAHA Mom: hah. hah. hah. *eyeroll*

Alphinaud: THE EYE!! Mom: Yeah you gotta wrestle it from whatshisname Me: I think we can just ask him

Matoya: Shtola, when did the light fade from your eyes? Mom: I was waiting for someone to notice her eyes were all weird.

Brie cam

Verdict on Estinien after he bitches at Y'shtola: "He's still a jerk."

Ysayle just appeared! "Oh, how fortuitous!"

She kinda jerked back when Ysayle died, I don't think she expected that. No comment otherwise. Anyway, we're in Azys Lla!

We're trying out Titan-egi but I guess it likes desummoning itself???

Estinien: Wait...something's afoot. *garlean theme starts playing* Mom: Garleans are everywhere!

I wonder if the garleans are confused by the snowmen bouncing past

We're at the 2 hour mark but this is a really exciting part of the story so we're trying to make it to the dungeon before we stop

All righty, stopped just before the final HW dungeon~

Jan 23, 2021

THE END OF HEAVENSWARD (base), AS DESCRIBED BY MY MOM: a thread

I showed her the shoebill minion and she was entertained

I got some volunteers but while we wait my mom decided to start chatting up the nodes and accidentally picked up a quest so she's off getting lost in Azys Lla

*while getting into the black hole for universal manipulation*: this doesn't seem great...? me: it protects you from worse

*suspiciously* "...who's in the box?" (it's haldrath)

Thordan attains primalhood: "...we didn't want that to happen, right?" Me: "Nope" Mom: "Welp"

me: wait time, 9 minutes mom: D:<

Mom: Do we have to kill him multiple times? Me: Nope. Mom: Good. ...I'll take that eyeball, thanks.

*Estinien gets the other eyeball* Mom: Is he going to turn evil?

she has just dubbed him Zombie Estinien

"Ohh so there's a warrior of darkness to my warrior of lightness..." *camera zooms out* "I was being facetious when I said he was on the moon!"

Heavensward base complete~

we had a nice lengthy bike ride before this and now we're both starting to feel sleepy so I'm telling my mom to wake up during cutscenes XD then Aymeric closed his eyes and she said "See? Now HE'S falling asleep!" and I said "He's being SOMBER"

Got all the overworld aether currents in the forelands and will get the quests so she can fly there tomorrow. Also got her some boots from Hismena. Slowly but surely...!!

we both got up and groaned at our stiff legs RIP

Jan 24, 2021

Okay mom is doing forelands aether current quests and then we'll be back to MSQ

*watches her get lost around the Forelands*

it's just her yelling "Up! Up!" while trying to climb a cliff with her snowman

me: *flies past* mom: I SEE YOU >:( taunting me

just two snowmen bouncing across the forelands

Krile: Looks like someone grew an ilm or two in my absence...or are those lifts in your boots? Mom: ouch

*watches mom get lost in the hinterlands* this is very relaxing

Krile just said she has the Blessing of Light as well as the Echo...?? hmm I forgot that..

She laughed at Y'shtola going "IS IT NOW" when Alphinaud started talking about her showing up naked from the Lifestream

she's dying at the nutkin hiding thancred's nether region

'Good thing it's got a big fluffy tail'

mom: Did Thancred lose an eye? me: we're not sure honestly, most think he had an injury but then later he was using it to attract the ladies mom: oh...

Mom, about Alphinaud: Does his sister ever show up? Me: Oh yeah. You'll like her. Mom: Is she snarky? Me: Yeeeeup, she knows just how to get to Alphinaud. Mom: Well, twins, right? Me: Yep Mom: *nods*

me as they find the guy setting fires: They've located the criminal!! mom: Yep. Northota, sit on him! That'll teach 'em.

mom said all this stuff about people trying to preserve the old order sounded aaaawwwwfffully familiar, btw can't wait to get her into SHB, vauthry will make her blow a gasket

hah at aymeric at 0/100 vitality just curing himself furiously, refusing to die

as priest pushes maelie off the vault wall: well, *he's* evil.

Mom after Aymeric and co arrive downstairs: Wait, what did they do with the nutjob? Me: Oh they arrested him Mom: They should've just pushed him off the railing. Told the dragon 'let this one fall'.

you can tell where my vindictive streak comes from

Okay, that's it for this play session! Once we get to the end of post-HW we'll be going back to finish off Hildibrand and other optional/side content XD

Jan 30, 2021

It's THE WEEKEND time for MORE MOM PLAYS FFXIV

"I forgot what we were doing??" the crazy catholic dude shoved a kid off a bridge and now we're working on a peace conference

hearing honoroit speak is gonna make me sad though :( RIP Archie

Emmanellain stalks out of the manor in silence, mom says, "What was THAT all about?"

Urianger speaks to Elidibus, mom says "...I thought he was a good guy?? No? Clearly not."

Yda and Papalymo show up! Me: Hey, we found them! Mom: Yep Me: She lost her mask somewhere so they aren't showing her face... Mom: ...because we're not supposed to know what she looks like? Me: NOPE. They'll zoom in on her boobs instead! Mom: I noticed that, yes.

The big reveal with Yda/Lyse would've been way better if they'd incorporated Yda's real face into like...flashbacks or something.

Mom, about Hoary Boulder: I'm sorry, he's just weird. Me: gasp Mom: *imitates his roegadyn psych emote* Me: He's flexing! Mom: Ohh, right. You just can't see it under all that armor.

We exhausted Brie with a 3.7 mile bike ride before this and I made her dig a bit so she is extra tired today

walking into the Seventh Heaven: ah the bar with the Peanuts music me: it's the bar music from FF7! mom: I'm telling you this sounds just like the Peanuts music!

*looking at the rewards for this quest* Me: fish or cookie? mom: cookie, steamed fish sounds gross... me: it's a steamed staff mom: that's worse me: ...which is also a fish mom: ...

Oh boy my favorite HW dungeon the Antitower is coming up...

She enjoyed the dungeon XD Calcabrina reaction: Oh THEY aren't creepy at all, jeez me: You can get them as a minion-- Mom: NO I don't want that following me

for those wondering, she wasn't into David Bowie so she did not recognize the Ziggy Stardust reference, RIP

Mom: Looks like we're not getting Minfilia back? Me: Nope, looks like she's been turned into a MEAT PUPPET Mom: Ah

She summoned the poro roggo minion and was overjoyed to see that it hops XD

Aymeric: A drink! Mom: Is he asking me on a date? Me: Maybe Mom: What happens with the male WoL? Me: Same thing. Everyone wants in the WoL's pants, doesn't matter their gender! Mom: That's awesome.

heavy sighs at emmanellain, 'looks like I'm babysitting again'

"Yeeeeah I've just been poisoned, pretty sure."

Northota started passing out and my mom just turned and gave me a knowing look. "First time I've ever eaten or drunk anything in this place, of COURSE"

she's just skipping past the barmaid's tirade ahahaha

Emmanellain: WHAT HAVE YOU DONE Mom: You told him to do it

Mom just referred to the punch Thancred laid on Emmanellain as 'The Consequences'

Got the Hinterlands world aether currents and quit for the day, time to stretch

Jan 31, 2021

AND NOW for game time with mom fun fact about my mom she is one of the few cool boomers

Mom: Soooo they're trying to...fight another enemy now? Me: They're trying to unite via a common enemy...so yes, more fighting, for that is the Ishgard way Aymeric: HOW ABOUT A GRAND MELEE Mom: Oh good, pretend fighting is just as good as real fighting.

on Emmanellain: "He started out as a brat, still a brat."

"Maybe his tiny manservant will help him change--" *cue me explaining some of their backstory and elezen puberty*

Aymeric: *starts talking about WoL for grand melee* me: WHO could he could be talking about mom: I don't know, the tall broad in front of him?

they should've had the grand melee take place in the lightfeather proving grounds, just sayin

I think she is enjoying being a caster in chainmail SE ALL CLASS FORTEMPS GLAMOUR WHEN

"Um, I have the tether...what does that mean" *fade to black* "DID WE FAIL"

aymeric just got fuckin yeeted by raubahn, never gets old

me: have fun, be ready to dodge mom: oh god

mom: is that the end of the duty? me: yep mom: *immediately has peanut m&ms to celebrate*

Nidstinien: NEVERRRRR Mom: there's always one...

mom's just like O_O at nidstinien right now

Mom: So we gotta kill Nidhogg? Me: Yep...again. Mom: Only he's bigger and badder than before? Me: Yeah he's got TWO eyeballs now! Mom: Oh boy

Mom on Vidofnir: Oh good that dragon's not dead!

Alphinaud plops drinks on table mom: The LAST time I drank out of a cup.......

Mom: The voice acting has really gotten a lot better Me: You enjoy the performances? Mom: Yes, especially Aymeric. His voice isn't pretty but just the phrasing Me: *eyebrow waggle* Ohhhh?? You thought he was snooty when you first heard him Mom: he WAS snooty...he's gotten better.

being a left-handed person, my mom is delighted to see SMN is also left-handed (via victory stance)

vidofnir is like '?'

CAN MY MOM FIGURE OUT THE MOOGLE'S NAME STAY TUNED

she picked the correct answer

yay we have conquered sohr kai

Fighting Nidhogg will have to happen next weekend. There will be chaos >:D

Feb 6, 2021

TIME FOR MOM SHENANIGANS

Alphinaud: if only we knew when nidhogg would strike me: IF ONLY THERE WERE A SIGN *screeching in the distance* mom: is that not a good enough sign

final steps of faith death awaits us, friends are all busy...sorry to my cohealer in advance, whoever you are

mom: Eugh! When did he give away his eye?!

waits for future cohealer to queue up...

that was 3 vets and 5 newbies who all ran away with the stack marker

Alphinaud: Estinien!! Mom: Estinien! Someone take that eyeball away from him!

Mom: *as Estinien starts resisting* is that Estinien Estinien: THIS IS NOT YOUR HAND, WYRM Mom: the ultimate dual personality disorder WoL and Alphinaud: *go for the eyes* Mom: That's right! Go for those eyeballs!

Mom: And that's Nidhogg...going...? Me: To dragon heaven! They come from space, after all

Mom: So those eyeballs are just dead balls now right Me: nah they're still full of aether Aymeric: CAST THEM INTO THE ABYSS Mom: *watches them plummet* ...only for them to return later?

we have concluded that Estinien probably weighs about 250-300 lbs with all his armor

Mom: Give Hraesvelgr his eyeball back! Hraesvelgr: *flies off* Mom: He's leaving without it?!

mom just shaking her head at emmanellain and laughing as honoroit explains what actually happened

she thinks estinien is very pretty

Brie check (this was a video of Brie staring fixedly at mom's hand as she picked up popcorn)

Mom: So he just took flowers and walked off into the sunset? Me: That's what he does, yup

on the PLD of darkness: "pretty evil grin there"

Me: Recognize that outfit? Mom: Yep! Alphinaud! Me: No! Mom: WHAT Me: That's his twin sister! Mom: Oh. Well, at least I recognize the outfit!

on the dinner: *dryly* "That's not stiff at all."

*WoL stares at manservant pouring* mom: is he gonna try to poison him??

Aymeric: So what do you want for yourself Mom: ...to not be poisoned. Manservant: PRAY FORGIVE THE INTERRUPTION Mom: We'll never find out what I want.

WoL and Aymeric leave Mom: So...I wasn't poisoned? Me: Nope Mom: suspicious.

Xelphatol cleared!

Tataru: Try on the new outfit I made you! Mom: *suspicious and hostile* WHO IS SHE TALKING TO Me: Alisaie! Mom: *relaxes* oh okay

That's all for today - that was a lot of cutscenes XD One more dungeon before we hit the end of the free trial and go back to Hildibrand. Yay!

Feb 7, 2021

reminding my mom that urianger is a POTENTIAL EVIL DOER she just sighed heavily

me: Alisaie is INTIMIDATING Urianger! mom: yes, from his waist

Mom: Alphinaud NEVER glared like that! Me: Alisaie is VERY different

Oh we're at the part where we meet Ga Bu

brie trying to chew while on the couch, mom has vetoed this plan

it occurs to me that alisaie's teleporting ability is the most powerful because she just teleported the entire party while half of us had aggro

mom: titan...is he the one who kept shoving me off the edge me: yep mom: UHGHHGHGHG

report-- gravity: 3 WoL: 0 3 dps fell off XD one of which was my mom, another of which was a dps CERTAIN he was out, and a third of which was a RDM who backflipped off

Alisaie: Maybe you could tell me about some of your adventures in Ishgard Mom: But I only nod! *dialog choices pop up* Mom: oh, there I am

Mom: "Old friends"? me: who do you know who talks like that Mom: ..........the guy who the girl was suspicious of... me: Urianger. Mom: yes me: We've never seen him with his hood off though! Mom: Who knew he had grey hair...

Urianger: *DRAMATIC SPEECH* Mom: Is he feeling guilty? Me: Yep

Mom: Sooo he wants them to kill the WoL??? Me: He wants them to meet up Mom: So they can combine and become the warrior of grey...

my mom always makes resigned noises when told to gather information because it's usually bad info from idiot townspeople XD

Papalymo and Yda spotted!

she's in disguise

Mom: A trap! Of course.

Alphi: CARBUNCLE DEFEND ME Mom: OH Carbuncle: *catches arrow in mouth* Mom: Nice catch!

Urianger tears off mask Me: Oh no he's pretty--but with questionable taste in facial hair Mom: yeah that's terrible...he looks like wolfman or something...

trying to target alisaie's blade of light when literally everyone decides to stand around her fighting while you're on controller is a new hell, my mom has found

Urianger: Quickly! Invoke the power of your crystal! Mom: ...and what will that do...? Me: :)

Minfilia: *gives WoL Tupsimati* Mom: I'll put it in my pocket with everything else

and now with my mom left in a haze of confusion over yda's reaction to gundobald, we leave the rest of the story for next weekend

Feb 13, 2021

MOM GAME TIME MOM GAME TIME We parked her outside the Rising Stones last time for fear of being caught in another long cutscene. Turns out we were right XD

Mom: "WHAT BATTLE???" (as fake griffin talks to real griffin)

Mom: Are those the dragon eyeballs? Yes, they are. Me: What a surprise! Mom: Quite the gift. Good luck controlling them!

Brie being absolutely incorrigible about the popcorn moving past her nose

Mom, when Tataru corners her with some other people: new characters? Me: no, you're being AMBUSHED! YOU ALWAYS KNEW SHE WAS EVIL Mom: ...oh! She's got a new outfit for me, doesn't she!! Me: *cackling* Mom: They got the big guy to hold me down, huh.

tension in the scene where m'naago appears ruined by the fact that we're trying to order take out for dinner right now

ordering food never sounded so ominous, it's just the suspenseful BGM going on the entire time

PLOT TWIST you can choose which sauce you want!! DETERMINE YOUR FATE, BECOME WHAT YOU MUST

Mom: Who is this? Me: A new person!

Mom after hearing Papalymo's ominous narration: Is he about to become a traitor?? Me: *shrug* Mom: He's got that stick, too! Me: What's he gonna do!!

someone playing a polka in gridania right now

mom, seeing me on ixion mount: *sigh* I want ooooone...

Mom, about Yugiri hiding behind trees: Kinda creepy Me: Well, she's a ninja Mom: Ohhh, so force of habit...though she's not very good since [Aymeric] spotted her! Me: She wasn't TRYING D:

We are on Griffin, Griffin on the Wall for anyone wanting to see how close we are to SB 6 more quests before she gets blocked in MSQ!

Baelsar's Wall conquered Mom, after some careful explanation about the betrayal: Soooo the Griffin is just killing everyone.

Mom: THE EYES

Mom: That was a great splat noise

me: This is the song they played just before the calamity mom: it's very pretty considering what's going on me: yeeeeah after a while you start to associate it with ominous things...

told my mom to pick the second option...papalymo blasted her back onto the ship and she just said 'oh'

OMG our power just went out

Papalymo’s spell was too powerful. Also took our neighbor’s power

Welp we will continue our adventure tomorrow I guess. The whole area went down and it’s 2 degrees outside

Time to gather around the fire

The power has returned and i no longer feel like a pioneer

Was gonna make ashcakes or somethin oh well

me earlier: what if power went out at the restaurant we ordered from!!!! restaurant on our receipt when it arrived a few minutes late: our power went out!

Feb 14, 2021

Back to mom game time! Upon login, she was taken back into the cutscene the power outage interrupted...

If the power goes out again i will have to declare this cutscene cursed

Mom picked the option to try to stay again because she wants Papalymo to blast her back onto the ship

Mom: So that leaves a mystery as to what happened to Papalymo? Me: Well, if you've seen the previous time that was cast, Louisoix dies after casting it... Mom: Ahh, and that was apparent from the conversation... Me: Yep. Yda knew too, so that's why Thancred had to drag her off

achievement: School's Out Forever mom: =_=

Gosetsu: *appears* Mom: Okay, very Japanese... Gosetsu: *takes off hat* Mom: Whoa!

Gosetsu: *psychs up* Mom: Is that his way of overcoming his he-- Gosetsu: *falls over* Mom: Or not. Good thing no one was in front of him.

I forgot Nero did in fact have a voice actor XD

Me: So, got a good impression of Alisaie yet? Mom: Yeees...she's got claws. Big ones.

Mom's roegadame is taller than Nero by a head but she said "He should be more afraid of the little one (Alisaie) than me"

Gosetsu: BY YOUR LEAVE Mom: Ah, he's recovered.

Tataru gave my mom her outfit and she was like "D: OH! ...somebody stole my skirt!"

bit too difficult to ground target on controller for mom so I ended up doing the middle section of the solo duty for her with the red baron XD

Mom as they activate Omega: Releasing the Death Star!

Mom as they trade blows: Holy Harry Potter! (it reminds her of dumbledore and voldemort fighting in the ministry)

Mom as shinryu and omega blast off in different directions: That went well. Me: Would you say it was a tie Mom: Looked like it

Usually when something funny happens that they will immediately explain in the next two speech bubbles my mom will instantly stop in confusion and ask me what is going on and I have to be like 'You'll see'

ex: Yda's tattoo disappearing just now

We're on the Far Edge of Fate!! Last quest!!

Mom has passed judgment on Zenos. His helmet is creepy. His hair sticking out from under the armor is weird.

MOVING ON!!! to Hildibrand!!

I won't go into detail but suffice to say she laughs every time Hildy pops up on screen to pose XD

can't wait til she meets godbert

Me: We have to track down this dangerous goldsmith! Mom: ohhh I can see this is going to be silly

Hildy: I...I MUST DANCE! Mom: What?!

Mom: At least he has underwear on Me: Only because they have to preserve their rating.

Mom: OH he used his whole name!!

She believes Godbert explains Hildibrand a LOT

Mom: Hildibrand HAS figured out it's Greg, right? Me: Nope. Mom: ...oh my god.

Battle on the Big Bridge UNLOCKED time to queue and see if my mom gets turned into a toad

update: Me and my mom got turned into toads so it was just us screaming and running in circles

#ffxiv #momventures in eorzea #ameme's mom plays #mom plays ffxiv heavensward #ffxiv heavensward

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kninedlog · 9 months

Text

Since my own art is trash credit goes to this person for the best interpretation creatable:

tw and ig: https://www.instagram.com/_nyurei/ || https://twitter.com/_nyurei

The picrew itself: https://picrew.me/en/image_maker/1300090

OC #3 : Meet Jargon Justice The High-Tech Security Bot!

The beginning | Previous | Next

-Built to look human, he's the closest thing to an android that the wide spread public is aware about. (That's considering the Gregory or any other character being a robot theory/stuff like that)

-Jargon is built to be 7ft

-He's basically the secret guest at Disney and other theme parks but for the pizza plex. He walks around and makes sure that no one is breaking any rules and enforces them as well as protects the guest from any harm.

-He is the only animatronic without a safety mode as he has programmed to land harmful hands on people and guests over the age of 15.

-Before the Plex was made Jargon was thought of in mind for it. To be a special specific bot for this special specific location

-Hence all the paperwork people must sign before entering the pizza plex for the first time and to have your guest profile be on record.

-He is not an attraction/entertainment bot despite how many people mistake him for it (most of the time on purpose)

once they find out he is an animatronic. (He blends in very well despite his consistent wardrobe)

-He wears sunglasses indoors all throughout the day for personal reasons.

-He doesn't like how people stare into eyes and he's gotten a bit self-conscious about the color choice that was picked for him.

-His room can be visited by any guest if he is there taking a break, or recharging, or getting maintenance done. He hates going down to the maintenance room.

-His room soon got to have many visitors over the course of just four months and he soon developed fans as well. Having to renovate his small cramped space into a sort of the green room the Glam Rock's have but not quite the same to spot the difference, making his room sort of an attraction although it isn't.

-Instead of his room just being called his room anymore it's slowly over time became "Justice's Office!"

-Jargen has a back hatch similar to Freddy chest cavity. He uses it to store important items for himself or ones he confiscated from guest. (He's taken many Faz cams and golf clubs)

-Anyone by the ages of 15 and lower breaking a rule of the pizza plex get three warning from him, after that the child is sent to either the daycare, lost and found, or Justice's Office where he places "naughty kids" who need a time out or lost items.

-He then phones the number of the parents or the owner of the belonging.

-If the parents do not pick up after three tries every two minutes or do not retrieve their kid during the limited time they set for the said parent, Jargen sends the kid to the main office and the entire family gets a strike penalty from the Pizza Plex usually between a week or 3 months ban from the facility.

-If the owner of the lost/confiscated item does not try his office to retrieve it by the time the facility closes (which workers are supposed to direct them to if the item is not in the lost and found) Jargon gets to either keep it, throw it away, or repurpose it. He usually chooses the first option or the ladder.

-Jargon is a very serious animatronic. He does not like to waste time and does not get attached to any of his fellow security co-workers, subordinates, or superiors.

"Get back to work, please."

"Yes sir/ma'am."

-Except for one. (More on that later)

-His personality is like paint dry. He is a stale-made bot just wanting to complete the many tasks set upon him day in and day out.

-Even when they are completed before his inevitable clock out/power down time he does not do anything rather interesting.

"You like Jargon?"

"But he's just an exaggerated Security bot! Plus he's a boring party pooper" —*Monty and Roxy to Chica and Freddy*

-He will either sit in his office and read/interact with whatever anyone has given to him as a gift (like how people do for the glam rocks) or walk around the plex double-checking everything, even on the main stars themselves to see if they are functioning properly not to make small talk much to Chica and Freddy's dismay.

"How was your day Jargon?"

"No."

"Don't cha wanna chat?"

"No."

-He has a very advanced AI programmed into him that is always adapting to the world around him. If his systems has come across a stump or an issue it won't be long before he's figured a way around it or solve the problem

-If something went wrong today best believe that same thing won't happen ever again.

-He sometimes, to pass the time of his break, talk to himself. One of the many guilty pleasures he like to partake in, that he has kept secret from even the cameras at the Plex.

-It helps him cool his processors and he likes to recount everything he's done so far.

-No one knows he does this.

-Well not anymore...

-He's been hacked into many times before. All attempts have been futile.

-Until one day. . .

#fnaf #fnaf oc #fnaf sb #fnaf original character #fnaf security breach #fnaf animatronic oc

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imaginarykpop · 2 years

Text

Friendships | Jaeyeon

Main Timeline

Just setting the dynamics of everyone for later.

Words Count: 6488

Warning: Cursing, body image

Bold is English

Jaeyeon’s Masterlist

March 2014

Jaeyeon went on her first Asian tour in 2014 after she had a small performance at small award shows at the end of 2013. Her climb in popularity was more than GLAM’s and Bangtan's it wasn’t the biggest rise in popularity but the company is very optimistic, and she was making enough money now that the company was able to start giving her some of her money back which she was saving up to buy a car, since the company was already moving her to a better dorm as soon as she returns from her tour.

More people started to recognise the idol and many male fans have gotten interested in her, as with every comeback her style got better and better, with more money she was able to dress better, and with the right stylist she was getting the chance to show her beauty and talent. She agreed with the Bang PD that her next album she wanted to write one song on it. Her music went from pop to ballads, her albums were always an interesting mix, but it was well put together.

“Jaeyeon, you have a visiter.” The stylist called for Jaeyeon, sje had finished her hair and makeup and was waiting to put on her dress for the first song of the concert, so Jae was filming he4 pre-concert ritual to post on her YouTube channel. Looking up from the camera she looked to the door and in walked her best friend.

“Yoonni-ah.” She said with a laugh and bounced up from her spot in front of the mirror where the camera stayed and launched herself into Yoongi’s open arms, they haven’t been able to see each other in a while and the two best friends have missed each other. “What are you doing here? I missed you.”

“Missed you too.” They let go of each other and it was then that Jaeyeon noticed Taehyung and Jungkook behind Yoongi.

“You guys came too.” Jae said her voice brightening even more, it was different from the tone she was using just a few moments ago when she was talking to the camera. Alone. Pulling them in hugs which they returned, Jae was a hugger, you couldn’t be her friend without receiving hugs, she wasn’t always a hugger but after coming to Korea and being unable to hug her family and missing them she found herself hugging her friends all the time.

“We wanted to see your concert.” Taehyung said his lips in a big smile.

“Thank you so much for coming.” She said her hands on her chest her lips in a fake pout. “Come in, we have loads of snacks, me and the staff members like to get all the interesting ones we could find a day before the concert and eat them as the day goes on.”

And rightly said there was a table filled with all kinds of snacks to munch on, Taehyung and Jungkook each took a bag after going through the pile, while Yoongi opted on not taking one. Yoongi and Jae sat down on the sofa together and got to talking, she was telling him all about the song she was writing and how she was struggling with one part and what not.

“Send me a demo of what you wrote so far.” Yoongi said and Jae agreed enthusiastically. “When are your family coming in to see your show?”

“They’re coming to the last one, Jaeheon has exams at the moment.” I informed him, my youngest brother had some exams since he was still in school.

“When was the last time you saw them?” Jungkook asked in wonder, his family maybe in Busan but he saw them whenever he could, you on the other hand, your family were on a whole other continent, he couldn’t even begin to wonder how hard it must be for you to be away from your family for so long.

“I think it was last year, early 2013, definitely before you guys debuted.” Jae said frowning as she tried to remember, she found herself always trying not to think about how long it had been since she saw them, it made her fall in a swirl of sadness and she then would start feeling homesick, which wasn’t something you’d want before a performance or while working in general.

“Wow, that’s a long time.” Tae muttered and her nodded in agreement, a grin then fill onto his lips. “But we’re you’re family here in Korea, right?”

“Of course, you are.” That made the female idol grin and wash her sadness away, she had her aunt and her cousins as well as the boys, her cousin may even be able to work with her as she’s graduating uni and her working as a manger/assistant is something that in her options.

•───────•°•❀•°•───────•

July 2014

Jaeyeon was sitting in Yoongi’s studio, since she wanted to do a vlive and she doesn’t have a studio of her own, she does it in his. She started the vlive and waited for a bit before a good amount of people came in, when it reached a thousand she started the vlive.

“Hey, everyone.” Jaeyeon said with a smile as she read though the comments, replying to everyone, most comments were in Korean but a few were in other languages, she replied to the English ones and the basic Japanese and since she took Japanese classes since she joined BigHit she replied to those ones as well.

“What song should I song?” She asked after a while of talking with the fans. “I’ll try to sing a few songs today for you guys… let’s do… oh Shinee’s Lucifer, yeah let’s do that, I danced to a lot of their songs when I was a trainee.”

She played the song on the computer lowering the sound, so she could hear the music and the fans could hear her, and thus the Vlive went on, singing a few songs suggested by fans. Admittedly her rap ones were the best covers, but she enjoyed them a lot and spent most of the song laughing, let’s just say her rapping skills weren’t up to par.

“Okay, okay, last two let’s do one from Bangtan and one from GLAM, which song would you like me to do?” A lot of GLAM songs were sent in and so Jae decided to start with them. She ended with ‘I like That’ a song that came out the pervious year, the song she was most familiar with, it’s true she didn’t get along with most members but that didn’t stop her from listening to their music, they are her label-mates after all. “Don’t judge me too harsh you guys, i’m trying to be a better rapper, my label-mates are trying to teach me.” She laughs as she read the supportive comments from her fans. “Now Bangtan, which song should I sing… chose an easy one my loves.” Jaeyeon frowned at some of he comments that were coming in, some of her fans didn’t like the boys and it showed, she bit her lip to try and stop herself from replying, her protectiveness was showing, minus Jin and Yoongi(who are the same age and older) she saw everyone else as her younger sibling and it made her boil over to see how some fans were talking about them. “Be nice, we all promote love around here, let’s be respectful.” She found herself saying. “Let’s do ‘Boy In Luv’”

She played the music and started the song, it was the song she was mostly familiar with, she saw the boys work on it, and heard it constantly when she was in the hallways when they were training, and she made sure to be familiar with all her label-mates music. The fans could tell that she wanted to do a good job while singing this song, and they continued to praise her, making her smile as she noticed the amount of hearts coming in, in the comments, singing Jungkook’s and Jimin’s high notes in the song wasn’t hard for her. “Please don’t let anyone see this Vlive, let’s keep it between us.” She laughed feeling a bit embarrassed at how much she put into the last song. “It’s getting late, you all should go to sleep… ‘I don’t want to sleep’ but you have to, it’s good to have a good amount of sleep every night, don’t tire yourself out everyone, don’t forget to take care of your self and spread love and positivity… bye.”

With that the Vlive was over, making Jae lean back in the comfy chair, and sigh, unbeknownst to her, her fans would take the last line she said and run with it for years, making it the line she said after every performance and Vlive.

Jaeyeon gathered her things and closed the computer so that everything was back to it’s place for Yoongi when he came in. walking out of the room, she went to the break room and looked for a water bottle.

“Hey, Jae Noona.” Jae let out a scream and cursed in English and turned around only to find a wide eyed Jimin and a laughing Jin.

“Oh. My. God. Don’t do that!” She exclaimed and went to sit on a chair to calm her heart a bit.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.” Jimin said and walked up to the female, making her wave off his apology, she knew he didn’t mean it, but she did send the still laughing Jin a glare.

“Oppa.” She whined making him stifle his laughter and pat her back as he walked to the fridge she was just rummaging through.

“Wish I could of filmed that.” Jin said making her twirl in the chair and try to reach him so she could swat him but he stepped out of her reach.

“What are you guys doing here anyway?” She asked them and Jimin handed her a water bottle she sent him a quick thanks.

“Practice, we have dance practice.” Jimin said and it was then she took notice of their clothes and sweaty state.

“All of you are here?” She asked and Jin confirmed her thoughts. “Have you guys eaten yet?”

“No, we’re waiting to finish.” Jimin said and Jae glanced at her phone it was nearing 10:30.

“Well, let’s order you guys some food then.” Jae said and before Jimin and Jin could protest. “We’ll use the company’s card.”

They both grinned at her and agreed, and so she ordered from the boys’ favourite restaurant and they all went to the practice room with water bottles for the rest of the boys.

“Look what we found.” Jimin shouted walking in first, both him and Jin covered Jaeyeon from view of the rest of the group.

“What?” Hobi asked leaning to the side seeing Jaeyeon with two water bottles in her hand, her backpack over her shoulder and her cap on her head. She did have her make up on.

“Noona, what are you doing here so late?” Namjoon asked after seeing her.

“Are you working on a new album already?” Taehyung asked with a frown on her face, it wasn’t that long ago since she finished her tour.

“I am, but that’s not why I was here.” She said and handed Jungkook who was closest to her a water bottle.

“She was doing a Vlive.” Jungkook said gaining a nod from Jae and a questioning look from Jimin, Jungkook had been in the room since they started practicing a few hours ago, how would he know. “I uh I got the notification on my phone, when the Live started.”

“See that’s a true friend, who has their notification on to see when I’m posting.” Jae said and wrapped a hand around Jungkook’s shoulder, pulling him into her side, before she looked up at him, with a pout on her lips before she whined. “Why do you keep getting taller?”

Jungkook laughed and so did the others, Jaeyeon isn’t short she was 166 cm but next to Namjoon and Jin and all the taller members she looked short, which is something she didn’t like so they teased her about it, even Taehyung seemed to be gaining height.

Walking up to Yoongi, Jaeyeon gave him the key to his studio. “Thank you for letting me use your studio.”

“Anytime you want it.” Yoongi said waving her off, he took his key and placed it in his bag in the corner of the room.

“Are you staying, noona?” Hobi asked Jaeyeon who looked at her phone to see the time.

“For a bit.”

“We ordered food, she’ll eat with us and then leave.” Jimin informed the group, who were thankful and reminded of how hungry they were at the mention of the word food.

“Actually, I think I’ll just make sure you get your food and go.” Jaeyeon said shaking her head slightly, it was getting pretty late and she was tired. “I’m tired and it’s getting late, since we ordered with my phone I’ll just wait here until the food arrives.”

Complaints abounded around the room but she was having none of it, she was tired and couldn’t be bothered with food so late at night, unlike the boys her choreography didn’t take so much out of her to learn, she had to watch her figure, she wasn’t the skinniest and people have noticed, so she decided to go on a diet, it wasn’t overly restricting but she cut off food after 7 or 8 along with sugar and greasy food and just anything high in calories.

As she said Jae waited in the room with them, they’ve gone through the song twice before she got a call from the delivery man, so saying goodbye to the guys her along with the maknae line went to get the food, well they got the food she was just leaving. With a wave she left the building, heading to her dorm.

•───────•°•❀•°•───────•

Later that week Jae was in the company having meetings to talk about her next album and the concept they’ll be doing, she has total freedom to help in the making of her albums as much as she wants now. At first the female idol was hesitant to actually help but with each comeback it was apparent in her music the influence she has and how much she worked on them, they showed more and more of her colours and influence, they showed more of her and what she likes and believes. Her fans surely appreciated it and loved it.

Having been working for a few hours everyone decided to go on a 40 minutes break and then go back at it for a few more hours, as everyone left Jae took a minute more to finish looking at the colour themes for her next comeback, she already had an idea on what concept she wanted her title track to be, her last title track the song was slow and borderline a ballad so she wanted to do a dance song for this comeback.

Walking out of the room, she pushed her red ombre hair back and looked up form her phone when she heard females laughing she saw GLAM in front of her, the girls all stopped talking and looked at their senior in the company two members were older than Jae but the other two were younger, Trinity already left the group two years ago.

“Unnie~.” Dahee said in a sickly sweet tone making Jae bite on the tip on her tongue to stop herself from saying anything rude before Dahee had the chance to say anything. “We saw your live earlier this week.” The grin she had on her face told Jaeyeon that whatever is coming couldn’t be good.

“Have you?” Jaeyeon said raising an eyebrow, anyone passing by could tell that the tension in the hallway is rising, and that something was bound to happen. Jaeyeon maybe a kind girl but she has a backbone, she would never let anyone walk all over her, which was one of the reasons she clashed with the other females, she would never let them throw shade and walk away.

“We have, yeah.” Dahee says innocently her eyes wide and she nods her head up and down.

“Good to know you like me enough to watch my lives.” Jae says and gives them the biggest fake smile she could master and tried to side step them when Jiyeon blocks her way, Jaeyeon can’t help but remember all the cliché high school movies she’s seen. “Fucking Hell, what do you want? Unnie.” Jae asks stressing the Unnie.

“Wow cursing in English now, looks like we’ve hit a nerve girls.” Jiyeon says and laughs as she looks at her team mates, the girls chuckle, admittedly the youngest does it only because her older members do but none the less they all laugh. “Let me tell you something Jaeyeon, you may think you’re the shit around here but let me tell you something, you’re not the best around here, Dahee has better vocals and all the dancing you keep doing is what we do as a warmup don’t get me started on the rap, what was that rap you’ve done this week, aren’t you embarrassed? Your poor fans had to listen to your so called rap that is just pathetic.” Jiyeon eyes her up and down for a second before smirking. “And one advice from one idol to another… lose the weight.” They heard footsteps coming up from behind Jaeyeon making them all turn to look who it is, but Jaeyeon refused to look away from GLAM’s leader, her blood boiling, she knew that her rap wasn’t that good and yes her dancing routines aren’t the hardest to do, and she can do much better, she starts thinking that maybe she should’ve added a dance break here or there to show her fans what she’s capable of. “Looks like your bodyguards have arrived.” That snaps Jaeyeon out of her thoughts, she frowns slightly, and looks over her shoulder to see the Maknae line of Bangtan walking up to them slowly, they can tell that there’s tension rising between the idols in the otherwise deserted hallway.

“More like lap dogs.” Dahee says and the Maknae line’s eyes widen and Jae grits her teeth her glare setting on the group, seeing the look in her eyes, Dahee knows they’ve hit a nerve.

“Look here bitches, I’ve been nice to you for so long now, yeah? But that ends today, hear me out because I’m only saying this once and once only, so put your big girl pants on and maybe clean your ears out of all the bullshit you’ve been shoving in there, I know that your pea sized brains may not handle what I’m saying but work with me, okay? Okay. One) stay out of my way, don’t talk to me, don’t look at me, don’t even think about me, I know it maybe hard but just try. Two) remember how you debuted, remember who’s sales helped you debut. Three) see those boys.” She points at a stunned Jungkook, Jimin and Taehyung. “Say anything bad about Bangtan again, and I promise you Bang PD will be hearing about every single thing you’ve ever said about me. Now I don’t ever want to see you all again, but we all work in the same company so, you see me walking one way you turn and walk the other way, you see Bangtan walking your way you lower your head and don’t think about opening your snake of a mouth, do you understand?” not waiting for them to answer she takes the closest hand from the boys and pulls him behind her knowing the other two will follow, she bumps shoulders with Dahee making the girl take a few steps back from impact, rounding the corner she lets go of the hand she’s holding realising it’s Jungkook’s. Jaeyeon suddenly feels overwhelmed, leaning back on the wall she takes in deep breaths and closes her eyes, she doesn’t know what happened back there, but she’s fuming.

“Noona…” Jimin says softly he’s the best at comforting people so Tae and Jungkook let him take the lead and walk closer to their friend, Jaeyeon doesn’t answer him, in fact it looks like she barely heard him if she heard him at all. Jimin places a hand on her shoulder making her open her eyes slowly and look at him, her feelings get the best of her and tears gather in her eyes making Jimin’s heart beat fast, he’s never seen Jae cry before. The older members have seen her cry before, before she debuted when the training was hard and when she was missing home she’d cry. “Noona, please don’t cry, don’t listen to them.”

“I’m sorry, I don’t know why I’m even crying.” Jaeyeon says and takes a deep breath, it comes out shaky she looks upwards to stop the tears from running down her face while she fans her eyes.

“It’s okay to cry.” Jimin says and pulls her in for a hug, she wraps her arms around him and lays her head on his shoulder, Jimin’s hand runs up and down her back slowly trying to comfort her as much as he can. Takes a few minutes but Jaeyeon pulls back feeling better.

“Sorry for crying, you probably had other things to do.” Jae says pushing her hair back out of her face.

“It’s alright.” Jungkook says he wanted nothing more than to go and fight with GLAM members for making his Noona cry, like Jimin he never saw her crying before. To him she’s always strong and in control of her feeling and of everything going on around her, not that crying made her anything less, but it’s just a different side to her that he’s never seen before and he doesn’t like. He doesn’t want to see her crying again in her life, unless it’s tears of joy.

“Do you want to come sit with us, while we practice?” Taehyung asks but Jaeyeon shakes her head no and looks at her phone to check the time, she has to go back to the meeting, without having gotten any food or drink in her system.

“No I have a meeting, I was on a break but I have to go back.” She pouts and eyes the end of the hallway they were in, where the artist’s break room was. “I’ll see if you guys are still here after I finish, I’ll try to come and say goodbye.”

“Okay see you later, Noona.”

“Later Noona.”

“Bye.”

•───────•°•❀•°•───────•

By the time Jae was back I to the meeting room all signs of her crying and having a fight ten minutes ago all but vanished she had her happy and bubbly persona back on, she didn’t want to disturb anyone present, she knew she’ll have to talk to Bang PD about whats happening with GLAM but she doesn’t seem to have it in herself to do that, she knows the consequences of that may be too big and she can’t be responsible for ruining 4 girls' lives. No matter how much she disliked them.

Talking about what Jae hoped to achieve with the next album and what the company had in mind was easy, they didn’t differ that much, half an hour through the second part of the meeting someone knocks on the door and after being called in Jungkook pops in, a blush on his cheeks clearly shy, he finds Jae easily the older girl gives him a smile.

“Uh sorry to interrupt.” Jungkook said a bit softly, making Jae want nothing g but to coo at him. “but Jaeyeon Noona forgot her drink.”

With that Jae noticed the coffee cup in Jungkook's hands, she stood up and met Jungkook half way taking the mug from him and sending him a thankful smile which he returned with a smile of his own. Everyone in the company that worked with Bnagtan AND Jaeyeon knew of the younger crush on Jae, so they found it cute when they saw his cheeks red a bit more after her smile.

“Thank you, Jungkook-ie ill see you after the meeting.” With a nod Jungkook leaves the room and Jae returns to her seat, oblivious to the shared looks the staff had between them. The makeup artists that worked with both groups had a bet going on, on when they'd get together. Mostly bet on Jaeyeon waiting until Jungkook was 18, unbeknownst to them that they'll keep not receiving any money and changing the time they think they’ll get together as time went on.

Finishing up the meeting took another two hours and as they were were getting ready to leave Jaeyeon puller her manager aside to an empty room so she could talk to him.

“Do you need anything?” He asked the her, he has been working with since her debut. Her cousin started working in the company recently and was still an intern so she didn’t work with Jaeyeon yet but her manager was training her.

“Its just I had an idea and I was kind of nervous to pitch it up in-front of Bang PD and the other staff members, but I was wondering g if we could do this sort of show on YouTube or Vlive, where I take up a hobby and learn it in a certain amount of time, like maybe every few episodes is me learning something new... I don’t know something like that.”

“Thats a great idea Jae, I’ll talk to them and tell you what they say.” He said taking out a notebook to write down what she said.

“Well... if they agree can I learn Rap as the first thing.” She hesitates before rushing out. “I’ve wanted to learn how to rap for a while now and I think maybe it'll be a good thing to learn first, I don’t know.”

“I’ll get you into Rap lessons even if the program isn’t accepted, you can start with the rappers in Bangtan I’m sure they'll help you a lot.” He informed her giving her a supportive smile making her smile back before she remembers what happened in the break and it falls from her lips, he clearly catches on. “What's wrong?”

“I didn’t plan on saying anything, but I wanted you to know that I had a fight with Jiyeon and Daniel from GLAM, and that Bangtan Maknae line witnesses the end if it.” She told him and he nods slowly, clearly wanting to know more. “I won’t say what’s it about but I just wanted you to know.”

“I’m taking they started it?”

“Yes.”

“Okay thank you for letting me know.”

•───────•°•❀•°•───────•

Later on the never ending day Jaeyeon made her way to the practice room the boys were in, she asked their manager as she passed him. Walking in knowing that they wouldn’t hear her if she knocked, no one was surprised to see her walk in, they continued their choreography till the end. Jae made her way to one of the seats on the side, she bowed to their staff members in the room, getting bows back. Once the music came to an end Yoongi rushed to Jaeyeon's side claiming the chair next to her. He was breathing heavily a water bottle in one hand, he aligned himself so he was facing her.

“Jimin told us you cried.” Yoongi said making Jaeyeon groan and throw her head back, before looking at the culprit.

“What?” Jimin asked confused once her felt her eyes on him.

“Traitor.” She said before turning back to Yoongi, Hobi and Namjoon were itching closer, while Jin sensing where the talk may lead, distracted the youngest three, from what they told them happened, he didn’t want them more involved with GLAM than they need to.

“What happened exactly?” Namjoon asked, he knows that Jae and GLAM don’t get along, he doesn’t know why though. The only person who actually knows is Yoongi.

“They stopped me while I was on a break from my meeting, and talked about my Live earlier this week, commenting on my vocals, rap and dancing abilities.” Jaeyeon said looking from one member of the rap line to the other, her tone was nonchalant but Yoongi who was studying her closely knew it was bothering her, unknown to all of them Jungkook who was watching his Noona could also tell she was bothered, he did spend a lot of time watching her, admiring her to be more accurate. “They just pissed me off, and then they talked about Jiminie, Tae and Ggukie and I could take it, so I kind of cursed them and may have threatened them before I left with the guys.”

“Wow, noona, I’m impressed.” Hobi said trying to lighten the mood, he managed to get a smile out of the female.

“Have you told anyone?” Namjoon asked.

“I only told my manger that we had a fight and that’s it, I’m working on my new album and I don’t want more trouble.” Jae explained and they nodded, Yoongi subtly sent them a look that the ‘94 liners understood right away and left the best friends to talk, Yoongi leaned closer to Jaeyeon to be able to talk to her more privately.

“Be honest with me Jae, did they do anything or say anything to you recently?” His tone was as serious as it could get, he knows the full history between the group and his friend.

“No, you know they’ve been on the down low since I debuted, its only been a few comments here and there as I passed them in the hallways.” Jaeyeon said and played with her fingers, her anxiety was acting up and she started to get overwhelmed again, making Yoongi sigh and stand up he pulled her with him lacing thier fingers together.

“Sorry everyone, but we'll be back in a few minutes.” Yoongi called and didn’t wait for anyone to answer before he was pulling her out of the room and shutting the door, finding an empty room was easy. Walking in Yoongi made her sit on a chair pulling one up so that he was facing her. “Yeonie tell me whats bothering you, really, you haven’t been affected by their words like this in years.”

“I don’t know, its just I haven’t been doing too well mentally and I feel like they've just hit the right spot sort of to say.” Jae said feeling safe with Yoongi, she knows she can always count on him to listen without prejudice or judging. “I couldn’t help but remember when we were all trainees how close we were at first and how everything changed when I was set to debut as a soloist before them.” Jaeyeon’s lips wavered as tears made their way to her eyes once again, the redness returning quickly. “They knew me so well.”

“Thats why they know where to hit you.” Yoongi said and Jae nodded in agreement. “Jaeyeon, you have to know that all their words are coming from a place of jealousy, you are the reason they and us were able to debut and you are more successful, you’re a soloist and they're a group sharing the spot light and you know how certain members of their group love the spotlight.”

“Bloody hell, how much I’d give to have someone to share the spotlight with.” Jaeyeon said and rolled her teary eyes, she sniffled a bit her cheeks taking a redish tent as her nose reddened a lot. Yoongi couldn’t help but pull her up and into a hug, Jae wrapped her arms around his back. His ever strong friend needed a shoulder to cry on, its been so long since she’s talked about what she was feeling. They used to meet up and talk for hours but as they got busier and debuted it became immensely harder to do so. Jaeyeon knew many people, she has so many friends but she has very few she feels comfortable enough with to talk about her secrets.

“The the problem i is i-i-i think that sh-shes right.” Jaeyeon gets out between sobs and deep inhales, Yoongi pulls back just enough to be able to look at her, cupping her face in his hands his eyes bore into hers, he can feel his heart breaking.

“Don’t you funking dare Kim Jae Yeon, don’t you funking dare.” Yoongi all but hisses, his eyes hard and unforgiving. “We don’t do that, we don’t listen to anyone talking about us, people will always find flaws, you listen to those you trust and no one else. You are talented, amazing, hard working and funking amazing, your fans love you and they love because you are you.” Jae sniffles and nods slowly, she knows Yoongi is right but its not easy to actually listen and do by his words, she herself preaches loving ones self to her fans. “I know its not easy, but you have to try as hard as you can to ignore them, and if you ever want a reminder, come to the boys and I, we'll help remind you.”

“Thank you, Yoongi-ah.” Jae whispers and pulls Yoongi in for another long hug, Yoongi to her is home, he’s her safety net out of her family, a place she feels like she can do and be anything she wants without it going anywhere else, he’s her home away from home. He’s her best friend, her brother, her confidant.

To Yoongi Jaeyeon is the sister he never had the friend he always wanted and never had, she’s so unlike him but just like him in so many ways, they say the opposites attract and they do, to Yoongi Jae is like the sun shinning on the moon, her happiness and bubbly-ness is always reflected on him. Like Hobi she’s the one to infect people with laughter and smiles until they’re rolling on the floor from laughter. Those close to her anyway.

They both wondered what they did in their lives to deserve such a loving and supportive friend.

•───────•°•❀•°•───────•

August 2014

Jaeyeon’s manager did make Jae’s show come true, her new mini show on Vlive was being filmed, everything was still under production, few knew about what is being filmed. The company decided to get her a rap master to help her in her first few weeks and then she’ll have period to develop on her own or with the help of those around her. And so only the first couple episodes are filmed in a studio or a practice room with all the big cameras, lightning and crew then a few in the middle will be her filming or having one staff member following her and then the last one after three months of learning, she’ll show off what she’s leaned, the max period on one skill is three months as she agreed with the crew but if it took less then that’s okay.

Jaeyeon was complemented by the rap teacher, he praised her on her ability to follow rhythm and having flow, she did start paying attention to the rap line, and was able to pick up a few things, she started at first with doing covers of rap songs or songs that just have rap. The beat of those songs is slow, but as she learned it became harder and harder for the singer.

•───────•°•❀•°•───────•

Jaeyeon is beyond frustrated with herself, she’s been trying to learn this one song but just couldn’t get it, she had a long day as her comeback was near but she wanted to master rap before then, so with every free and waking moment she rapped. Groaning for the 100th time and playing the music from the start she went over the lyrics over and over again.

She closes her ryes for a moment and takes a deep breath prepping her self to nail it this time, before she could even utter one syllable some one knocks on the door, shouting a come in the door opens and in walks Jungkook.

“Hey Gguk.” Jaeyeon greets her favourite Maknae with the softest smile she has, seeing Jungkook brings her joy for some reason.

“Hi.” Jungkook greets back and steps into the room closing the door behind him. “Your cousin told me you’re here.”

“Yeah I’ve been here for a few hours.” Jaeyeon pouts and rolls her chair back to the computer where she looks for one of the recorded tracks for Jungkook to take a listen at them. “There’s this part which I can’t get, its been bothering me, my manger said it maybe because I’m not a native speaker.”

“Can I listen?” Jungkook asks and pulls the other chair to be sitting right next to Jae, who nodded and agreed to his request. Jungkook nods with the music already familiar with the song, the younger boy may be a vocalist but he’s a sub rapper, all he wanted is to help Jaeyeon, all of the boys felt in-debt to her, taking any chances to help her is their way of repaying her, even if they’ll never be able to do so, they hadn’t told her that of course, she hates when anyone brings up how her income is what kept the company afloat and to this day a big chunk of her income is the reason Bangtan and GLAM are being able to develop more. “How about we go through it section by section, let’s do it together.”

“Okay, that’ll be great.” Jaeyeon beamed at Jungkook happy for any kind of help she can get. “Oh, do you mind me filming this for my show? We’ll have to ask of course if it’ll be added to the final episode but if you’re okay with it, let’s do it.”

“I don’t mind.” Jungkook replied and they both went to work, Jae sat the camera up and they began going through the song over and over again, Jae was becoming more and more frustrated with herself for not getting it right, but once she blocked out everything and only focused on herself and Jungkook, the male idol was patient and determent.

After a little break they were able to do it, and by the end of the day Jaeyeon was able to do the fast rap with ease. Jaeyeon felt so proud of herself as she sat and listened to the recording.

“Thank you so much Gguk-ah.” Jungkook blushed at the nickname, Jaeyeon leaned forwards and pulled him in for a hug, he always forgets how she likes giving hugs and it takes him by surprise, like every time it takes him a moment before he returned the gesture.

“No problem Noona.” Jungkook replied after he pulled back from the hug, he ran his sweaty hands down his pants to wipe them off.

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fjotla-vithir · 1 year

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Glam of the day: AST

Whatever it is I brought back from the Thirteenth… I don’t know what it is, but the tribe has noticed. Urianger… help me. Help me heal. Teach me to read the stars…

)0( I absolutely love this job. It’s fun and beautiful and just overall glorious. Leveling was more of a hassle because we’re starting from 30, but the grind was more than worth it! )0(

After saving the star he loves and cherishes, Ether took some time to assist Vrtra in the Thirteenth… and somehow ended up bringing back a Voidsent with him. Later on, he discovers that he was tricked into forming a contract with the soul: unable to find the strength to face an ambush, he called out to whomever would listen and thus formed his contract. Upon his return to his tribe, it was clear he was feeling different - because he was acting different. Over time, Ether’s temper shortened and he became quicker to resort to the torment reaped with his scythe. Lives were being lost in record speed and the tribe had to intervene. They convinced him to visit Urianger and he began his studies in astrology. Later on, he learns Sage work, but realizes that he truly loves the stars and the warmth that astrology provides. Ultimately, Ether finds a way to curb the madness and work with the Voidsent - or rather control it.

The Glam

Head: Valerian Shaman’s Temple Chain

Chest: Astronomia Chiton

Hands: Antiquated Constellation Armlets

Legs: Astronomia Pantaloons

Feet: Antiquated Constellation Sandals

Ears: Prototype Gordian Earrings of Casting

Fingers: Prototype Midan Ring of Casting, Prototype Alexandrian Ring of Casting

Main Hand: Diana

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beyondbeau · 7 months

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Cosmetic Bag

Makeup on the Go: How a Cosmetic Bag Can Simplify Your Routine!

For any makeup enthusiast, a Cosmetic bag is not just an accessory; it's a portable treasure chest filled with endless possibilities. Whether you're dashing out the door for work, embarking on a weekend getaway, or want to stay glam while on the move, a well-organized cosmetic bag can be your best friend.

In this blog, we'll explore the many ways a cosmetic bag can simplify your routine and enhance your beauty game.

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Opt for a compact pouch for quick daily touch-ups or a larger bag to carry your entire makeup arsenal. The convenience of having all your essentials in one place cannot be overstated.

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Most are made from easy-to-clean materials, and their zippered compartments ensure your makeup stays securely in place. It saves you from messy accidents and preserves the lifespan of your favorite products.

Easy to Switch Up Your Look

A cosmetic bag is like a treasure chest of possibilities. By carrying your makeup essentials with you, you can easily switch up your look throughout the day.

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Ideal for Travel

For frequent travelers, a cosmetic bag is an absolute must-have. Packing your makeup in a bag ensures you have everything you need, eliminating the stress of forgetting an essential item.

It also helps you stay organized while on the road. Plus, many cosmetic bags are TSA-compliant, making airport security a breeze.

Protects Your Investment

Quality makeup products can be a significant investment, and it's essential to protect them. Cosmetic bags provide a safe and secure environment for your makeup, shielding it from exposure to light, air, and potential damage.

It helps prolong the shelf life of your cosmetics, saving you money in the long run.

In conclusion:

A cosmetic bag is a versatile and invaluable tool for simplifying your beauty routine. Its organizational benefits, portability, and ability to prevent messes and spills make it a must-have for anyone on the go.

Whether you're a frequent traveler or simply want to streamline your daily routine, investing in a high-quality cosmetic bag is a small step that can make a big difference in how you approach your beauty regimen.

So, why wait? Grab your favorite cosmetic bag from Beyond Beau and experience the convenience and efficiency it brings to your makeup routine today!

Visit us today at our products Makeup Bag - it's time to let your beauty shine!

#Youtube

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thesolferino · 3 years

Text

Favor

⤷ dream x f!reader.

⤷ genre: angst, fluff

⤷ word count: 8.4k

⤷ requested: yes, by this lovely anon!

— summary: dream asks you to pretend to be his girlfriend for a day. things only seem to go downhill from there.

It started as a favor.

On a quiet night in your apartment when you stared at your phone for way longer than your eyes could physically take and rolled around on the bed, talking to one of your best internet friends, Dream, he asked you for a favor. His voice was muffled through the mic on his phone, the one connected to his computer way cleaner, but neither of you could bother getting off FaceTime and call on Discord instead - yet you still heard him loud and clear, because you burst out laughing right after.

“What the hell did you just say?” you laughed, turning on your stomach and opening the call, now entirely focused on the timer that counted every second you spent talking to him instead of your Twitter timeline.

“It’s embarrassing, don’t make me repeat it!” And for that sole reason, you wanted him to repeat it, loud and clear.

“Is this why you were so insistent on me coming down to Florida? So I could pretend to be your girlfriend at your cousin’s wedding so your family doesn’t think you’re a loser?” you laughed, finding the situation entirely absurd as he sputtered, words mashing together, trying to defend himself.

“No! No, I wanted you to come here because we’re friends and I-I wanna meet you, this is just a… benefit, of sorts.” he replied, and you couldn’t help but laugh even harder at his poor attempt of trying to save face.

“Alright, I’ll bite.” you chuckle. “What’s in it for me?”

“Whatever you want.” he responded, much too quick. Your eyebrows raised.

“Whatever I want?” you parroted.

“Yes.” he confirmed. “I’ll buy you something, if you want; I’ll even pay you-”

“Pay me?! I’m not a whore, Dream!”

“That is not AT ALL what I was saying!” he cut in, yelling as you burst into a new fit of laughter. “It’s just… I sort of already told them I have a girlfriend and I was just hoping you’d say yes ‘cause it’s gonna be very awkward if I show up without the girlfriend in question.”

You put your head in your hands and he sort of dryly laughed at himself when he heard your palm hit your forehead. “What is wrong with you, man?”

“Listen, it’s not gonna be so bad! Just stay by my side for a bit, look pretty, we’ll get some drinks, and then dip. That’s it, I promise.” he reasoned.

“And here I thought we were gonna make out in front of everyone. What’s a fake relationship if we don’t make a show out of it?” you sarcastically snickered, and could practically see his eyeroll from miles away.

“If that’s what you want, then we’ll do it, by all means.” he replied and you laughed, shaking your head in mild disbelief.

“Alright, well, if you already told them, I don’t have much of a choice, do I?” you huffed, pretending to be way more bummed out about it than you really were. “I’ll do it.”

“Thank you so much, oh my God.” he replied and you chuckled at the sheer relief in his voice.

A few seconds of silence pass. “What’s the catch?”

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“How do you want me to publicly embarrass myself in exchange for this favor?”

“Personally, I think that forcing you to tweet that tweet about pissing yourself in bed again and also tweeting that everyone should subscribe to me isn’t “publicly embarrassing” at all.”

“Maybe I should’ve picked a different fake girlfriend.”

“Sucks to suck, pissbaby.”

The weeks leading up to your meetup felt like years, with every treacherous minute of you two talking over muffled mics and shitty webcams feeling longer than it should, your empty apartment feeling emptier and emptier by the day. Was it even possible to miss a person you hadn’t even met yet?

It turns out that it very much was, because as soon as the painfully long weeks were up and you were finally metres away from him, you jumped in his arms like a woman finally seeing her soldier husband after the war, standing on your tiptoes while he bent down the best he could to hug you back. His chest rumbled with a warm laugh when you turned your head ever so slightly towards his ear.

“Hello, boyfriend.” And just like that, the warm turned into a groan of faux annoyance while you burst into laughter and he pulled away, scanning your face with an equally annoyed look.

“I should’ve never asked you for that. You’re never letting it go, are you?” Yeah, you were kind of annoying with the amount of corny boyfriend jokes you threw his way - you had to give him that. But then again, he crafted his own fate and now he must accept the consequences.

“Oh I’m sorry, I didn’t realise your majesty wasn’t appreciating the work I’m doing! I just won’t show up at that wedding, how about that?” you bit back, voice dripping with sarcasm.

“You’re such an idiot.” he laughed. “Give me those bags.”

A blissful week had passed, and he hadn’t pissed you off in real life nearly as much as you thought he would. It took a bit of getting used to to his family calling him Clay instead of his beloved internet username, and you did get a couple of suggestive looks from his mother the first few times she visited - you had a couple of “eye conversations” in which she never exactly asked if you were his girlfriend, and you never exactly denied it, but you knew both of you felt the weight of the unspoken words yet you had to keep everything secret and ambiguous. Or at least you thought you did, before he revealed to you that he told his mom the two of you were dating already. Seems like the glances were knowing and not questioning. Maybe you weren’t as good at eye conversation as previously thought.

Living with him was fine, mostly because he had godly air conditioning and a house that was probably way too big for him, and also a very cute cat that followed you everywhere and made living with a man for a full two weeks way more bearable. Finding out that he can’t cook was one of the most bizarre revelations about him that you’d had in the years of your friendship, and you demanded he watched as you made chicken wraps. You complained about how he was 21 and couldn’t cook for himself, he complained about how it’s 2021 and he can just order from Chipotle or something, dude.

A week of goofing around and trying to hide the fact the two of you temporarily lived together from the internet had passed quicker than it should’ve, and for the first time in seven days, Netflix was turned off and the two of you were dressing up for the wedding, ready to set off with his parents and younger sister. He spent ages trying to convince you to match with him, which was quite literally impossible because he wore a black suit and you brought a red dress, which resulted in the two of you roaming around a local mall at 10 am, half asleep, looking for a reasonably formal black dress, because of course Dream always got his way.

An hour of arguing and your fashion tastes clashing later, you picked an off shoulder black dress with a high slit, along with a pair of pumps, both of which you forced him to pay for, and went back home, ready to glam both of you up as much as humanly possible because you were not ready to let him show up in some horrendous pair of shoes and claim to be your boyfriend.

“Is this okay?” you questioned, turning from the mirror to face him and let him be the judge of your shimmery black and white eyelids, spending way too much time on a makeup look for a wedding of someone whose name you didn’t even know. He blinked at you as his judging gaze washed over you like a wave, scanning you up and down while you nervously cocked your head, leg tapping in faux impatient annoyance to cover up the fact that you felt like prey under his eyes.

“It’s… yeah, it is. You look good.” Dream confirmed, nodding his head at you in a movement that was way too quick and snappy and you turn back to the mirror with a huff, watching him stare right back at you.

“Too much, right? I should try something else.” You say, grabbing your makeup remover wipes, but he cuts in before you can even wipe a single smudge.

“No, no, it looks good, I promise. Really good. Don’t touch it.” Something way too sincere in his voice makes the air tense, more tense than usual, but you drop it, deciding to just take the compliment with a tight lipped smile.

“Okay. You ready?” you ask, and he nods, nervously straightening out his suit before looking back at you with an anxious grin.

“Yeah, I think so. Do I look fine?”

He did. He looked more than fine. You’d never seen him actually dress up for something and put proper care into his looks - he was practically forced into doing it by you this time as well - so seeing him in an actual black suit, all formal and expensive looking, messy dirty blond hair properly combed for the first time in ages, made you gulp and look away. You sort of never understood the argument that women and men can’t be friends because you were never attracted to one of your male friends, ever. Dream was born to be an exception to every rule, it seemed.

Realising that you abruptly looked away, you attempted to awkwardly clear your throat and smile at him.

“Yeah, you do. Let’s go.”

During the ride there, his mother seemed to finally explode and the words that have clearly wanted to pour out of her mouth for ages finally came out. You supposed it was better for the poor woman, and did your best to suppress a laugh when Dream dramatically sighed and leaned against the window when she nosily spoke up.

“So… since when have you and Clay been together? He’s told us absolutely nothing!” She spoke up from the passenger seat, shifting to look at you, excited smile plastered on her face and you politely smiled back, mentally noting that you’d have to bully the shit out of him for acting like his mom is embarrassing him in front of his 8th grade crush.

“Ah, we’ve been friends for a long while, but we only started dating a month or so ago, because it’s hard doing long distance and all that.” you said, hoping it would sound believable enough because the two of you rehearsed this a few days ago, writing out a whole backstory from how you started dating to what exact words he used when he asked you out. There were a couple of arguments here and there, such as the fact you refused to say you confessed you’ve been in love with him for years and he refused to say he admitted he’s been your “bottom bitch” for 3 years but in the end, you somehow managed to agree on a cohesive timeline of events.

“Oh, does that mean you’re going to move here?” she questioned, and that one didn’t surprise you either, Dream having prepared a full list of answers to questions that people might ask in your notes app. He was a perfectionist to the point it got on your nerves, but that had its own perks.

“No, but I’ll definitely visit more often, and if it goes well, I might as well move here.” you smiled back at her and she nodded, going back to staring through the windshield. You and Dream exchange a relieved glance that you hope his younger sister doesn’t notice.

“Let me tell you, I was waiting for you two to get together! He always talked about you, I was getting tired of him, you know that?” she giggled and you widened your eyes at Dream who, snapping out of somewhat of a daze, immediately jumped to protest, light blush adorning his pale cheeks.

“No, I didn’t! I did not, mom, don’t lie to her.” he argued while all she did was laugh.

“Oh come on, it’s not embarrassing now that you’re together!” she kept going, and his younger sister joined in, to make it even worse.

“Yeah, you do talk about her a lot, not gonna lie.” she spoke up and his cold glare directed her way told you everything you needed to know, hanging on by a thread not to burst out laughing. He refused to even look your way, turning back to the window as his cheeks started heating up. You couldn’t help but let out at least a bit of a giggle, placing your hand on his arm in fake comfort.

“It’s okay, you can admit it now.” your tone borderlined on mocking and he knew you’d make fun of him for days to come so he stayed silent while the rest of the car burst into laughter.

The wedding was truly beautifully set up, set in a hotel wedding venue, walls painted in pure innocent white with hints of gold here and there, and you nudged Dream as the two of you observed in awe, asking what sort of money the groom had to be able to afford this sort of expensive venue. Nudging him proved to be way easier now, because you linked arms - you originally made fun of him for suggesting to walk like that instead of holding hands like normal people, telling him you’d look like you were at your high school prom, but he persisted, and you didn’t end up looking as goofy as you thought.

“He’s a doctor or something, pretty sure.” he replied, quick feet trudging down the long hallways, your own struggling to keep up with him, especially in your heels. He seemed to be in a rush to sit and get it over with as soon as possible so he could avoid any nosy family members, but bad luck followed him everywhere, it seems, because as soon as you two entered the place where the bride and groom would unite, at least three different pairs of eyes locked on you, and you immediately saw a fairly elderly woman get up with open arms, staring at Dream with a grin on her face. You saw him immediately tense up, and almost laughed right then and there.

“There’s my boy! Oh, you’ve grown so much, come here!” The woman looked to be in her fifties and Dream let go of your arm to nervously laugh and fall into her hug, the two rocking from side to side as she kept going on about how it seemed that he grew taller and taller every time she saw him.

When the two pulled away, her eyes fixed on you, judgingly scanning from head to toe and you suddenly realised why Dream tensed up the way he did - old white women sure had a way to make you anxious. Thankfully, he stepped in.

“Aunt Bessie, this is Y/N, my girlfriend. Y/N, this is aunt Bessie, my mom’s older sister.” he generously offered the explanation you were so obviously lacking and you grinned, as if that information helped you in any way, and stuck out your hand in an offer of a handshake. However, she seemed to have different plans, because as soon as she heard the words “my girlfriend” her face lit up as if she won the lottery and her lips stretched into a smile, opening her arms for you the same way she did for him.

“Oh my God, you finally got a girlfriend? Come here!” she said, shaking her head at your outstretched hand and gesturing you to return the hug which you quite hesitantly did, politely laughing as she hugged you tighter than you’d deem appropriate. Dream came from a family of huggers - that much was apparent from him, you guess, but you weren’t exactly prepared for this.

Aunt Bessie seemed to be way louder and screechier than expected, because the word “girlfriend” boomed through the room and off the snowy walls, and at least five other family members of his turned around to check who the lucky fellow that finally got a girlfriend was. Another one of his aunts seemed to notice the commotion and suddenly, another older woman with shoulder length, dyed blonde hair, along with her two younger kids, was hurling at you as well.

“I always complained to him that it was about time he got a girlfriend! He’s a fine young man, no wonder you picked him, honey.” Aunt Bessie shot you a knowing look and you closed your mouth in a tight lipped smile in a feverish attempt to keep down the laugh that threatened to escape you.

“Oh yeah, he definitely is.” you giggled, looking up at Dream again who looked like he wanted the earth below his feet to open and swallow him whole. Before you could nudge him in the ribs and tease him for hours to come, the other aunt suddenly spoke up.

“Clay! Oh my gosh, is that you?” she exclaimed, shocked grin on her face, and you briefly wondered if Dream ever even visited his family. He nervously smiled, obviously not really sure who this woman even is, but he hugged her back anyway, clearly walking the line between ‘happy to see his family’ and ‘insanely uncomfortable’.

“I haven’t seen you in so long, your dad hasn’t visited since we moved to Toronto! Look at how tall you are, you’re taller than my husband now! You used to be so tiny, whatever happened to you?” Upon hearing the word Toronto he seemed to realise who he was talking to as his eyes softened, and you wondered if he really was so expressive or you could just read him that well.

“I grew up, I guess.” He awkwardly laughed and she laughed harder than she should’ve before turning to you.

“Oh, and who is this?” She said, gaze periodically switching between him and you, a knowing smile on her face which told you she definitely knew who you were.

“Ah, this is my girlfriend, Y/N. Y/N, this is… my dad’s cousin, Mabel.” He introduced, large hand landing on your back, and you felt like you were experiencing déjà vu at the way her face lit up at the mention of a girlfriend.

“Wow, it’s so nice to meet you, Y/N!” She said, energetically shaking your hand, before turning back to Dream. “You never told us you got a girlfriend! You’re finally planning on settling down, huh?”

Your head snapped in his direction at the speed of light when she mentioned settling down, and you could see him tense up as well as he nervously laughed.

“Yeah, we haven’t visited in a while, so nobody from the family really knew. And, uh… we haven’t really thought of that yet, we’re taking it slow and everything.” He said and you were almost in awe at how good he was at bullshitting. The woman did nothing but laugh.

“Ah, don’t lie to me, I see the way you two look at each other! It’s your wedding we’ll be attending next!” She winked, and just as Dream got ready to fake laugh once again, her family called her over and she excused herself, walking off.

The two of you hurried to your seats as well, sitting down next to his younger sister.

“Your family is insane, man, holy shit.” You laughed in disbelief, staring at him as he shook his head, clearly as distressed as you were.

“Literally nobody in this family gives a single fuck if I’m single or not except the old aunties. And I seem to have a shit ton of those.” He muttered under his breath. “The way you look at each other - I literally didn’t even look at you properly that whole time!”

You cackled at that one, hitting his arm. “She’s right, Clay. You’re one fine young man, eh?” You nudged him as he groaned in embarrassment, only turning your way to glare at you.

You didn’t get to tease him for much longer, though, because the organ started playing and the bridesmaids and groomsmen lined up, the groom standing at his designated place. The bride walked in, arms locked with her father, thin white veil covering her face as she walked down the aisle, looking angelic in her puffy wedding gown. Silky brown hair fell down her shoulders, curled towards the ends, and you could see the hint of blood red lipstick beneath the veil. She looked beautiful - the groom seemed to think so as well, because you could see him tapping the corner of his eye lightly, wiping any stray tears.

She finally made it to the end and stepped to face her soon-to-be husband as her father moved away, sitting back in his chair. The wedding officiant stepped up, and held a speech much longer than it should be, which just led you to zone out.

One day you’d be beneath that veil, wouldn’t you? One day, you’ll face your fiancé the same way she is, and you’ll let your hearts link with a string that nobody but the two of you could snap. Who would that be, though? Who could you even trust with your heart in their hands? And you’re not aware of how and why and when, but your eyes shot up at Dream, whose eyes also glinted in that way where you knew he wasn’t paying attention, and maybe he was thinking about the same thing as you. Maybe one day, you’ll be attending his wedding, forcing one of your friends to play a fake boyfriend as he wipes his tears, waiting for his bride to get to him.

It was disheartening, the thought of being a bystander while he locks lips with somebody else. You supposed you just liked being the center of attention, so you let yourself pretend you were his bride in your daydreams. Separating daydreams from rational thoughts was mandatory, because you weren’t sure how you’d explain to yourself that you can’t stand seeing Dream marry someone else.

Dream, the infamous hopeless romantic, still seemed out of it, maybe even a little emotional, despite not being that close with either of the two. He was probably thinking about his own wedding as well, thinking about his future, the face he’d see when he pulled back the veil.

Just then, his eyes darted to yours, and you realised you were caught staring, snapping your head back to the couple that started reading their vows by now. You started going red from the neck up, cheeks on fire as you could feel his gaze burning into you. He turned back after a few seconds, though, probably assuming you stared at him because you were bored, and neither of you spoke, even though you kind of wish you did. What even is there to say, though?

By the time you snapped back, the “I do”s were already being said, and her veil was getting lifted, showing her beauty to everyone present, and as they kissed the whole room bursted into cheers and applause in support of the newlyweds. The two exit, teary eyed, their parents follow close behind, and that’s when Dream’s family rushes both of you to your feet, following the two into the reception hall where the actual party would take place.

From then on, the wedding is the same as any other. The two have their first dance, they give a welcoming speech, and Dream lets you stuff your face with cake and repeatedly refills your wine glass as repayment for dragging you into this whole thing. At some point, he stretches his hand out to you and asks for a dance like a rom-com main character, and you’re not sure exactly why he did that because he’s mostly terrible at dancing, but you had fun letting him twirl you until you got dizzy anyway.

You also realised just how much he did actually need a fake girlfriend, because it seemed like every twenty minutes some sort of relative of his would walk up to the two of you and congratulate him on “finally getting a girlfriend”. You ended up bullying him for that as well, wondering just how long he’s been single for if they’re all this surprised that he’s got a girlfriend, to which he just downed the glass of water he’d been sipping for half an hour and asked you about the weather.

His family took a few pictures with the new couple - you even got to speak to the bride at some point, congratulating her and wishing the two of them well, but in the span of a few hours, the wedding was over and the newlyweds made a great exit, signifying the end of the party. The two of you were driven home by his parents, and you waved them goodbye as you stumbled to the front door, your heels insanely uncomfortable and the red wine in your stomach weighing down on you; you just wanted to get out of this dress and into a pair of pajamas and pass out on his couch in the living room.

That’s sort of exactly what you did - you half-assed taking your makeup off, wiping down your face a couple of times, deciding that was enough before changing into some worn pajamas and plopping down on the couch next to Dream who already claimed his place and sunk into the cushion while a random movie played on the TV. The two of you basked in the comfortable silence that surrounded you, the exhausted, tired type. You both appreciated the quiet and fell asleep sitting next to each other, wedding already forgotten.

That night, he went from Dream to Clay.

The departure was bittersweet. You left two days after that, your hug at the airport tight, warm, filled with a sugary sweet feeling you couldn’t quite place and sour acid that ate away at you because you didn’t want to leave in the slightest. His arms were warm, inviting, whispering for you to stay but you left anyway, waving him goodbye, setting off to home.

It seemed like all your problems came and went with him, because a week later, at 3 in the morning while you were up editing a video, you got an all caps message on your Discord from Sapnap.

“YOU’RE DATING DREAM?”

You blinked at your computer screen, white letters blinding you in the dark, brain trying to keep up with why he even thought that. Within 10 seconds, another message, this time from Dream.

“so i told george and sapnap that we’re dating”

“don’t kill me pls”

Yeah, you weren’t going to kill him, per se, but he definitely made your life a lot harder than it should be. You opened Discord, Premiere Pro and the unedited video abandoned, typing back to Clay quickly.

“WHY”

He responded immediately, as one panicked man does.

“they’ve been making fun of me for being single for ages now :(“

“we already did this fake dating thing before and it went perfectly fine”

“just play along for a month or so”

“pls”

You audibly sighed. And as if he could hear you, he started typing again.

“i’ll promote you on my channel more”

“just pls do it”

“you love me, right”

Another sigh fell from your lips before you could stop it. Of course you did, because if you didn’t, there’s no way you would be playing into this. You typed back.

“fine”

He messaged back immediately.

“THANK YOU”

“LOVE YOU <333”

With a shake of your head, you mumbled “idiot” with the ghost of a smile flashing on your face, switching back to your video, opting to ignore Sapnap for a little bit. He could wait.

Fake dating seemed pretty damn easy during the first week - you thought you were killing it by sending corny tweets and staged selfies so he could screenshot them and send them to the groupchat, giggling on call about how oblivious they are and how you’re fooling them so good, both of you opting to ignore the parts where they claimed they knew the two of you were gonna get together eventually. It was fun, lighthearted, and an excuse to flirt with someone you had nothing official with.

As much as all your problems came and went with Clay, though, they came and went with his friends as well, especially that hopeless man Clay called his best friend.

Because yeah, of course Sapnap was the one to accidentally spill to the public that the two of you were “dating”.

George was streaming at what was apparently a normal time in the UK, not so much for Florida, and Clay was sleeping while you were watching his stream while making some food for yourself. It was going fine, a bit of a chill stream, and you leaned against the fridge as your oven preheated, tired eyes following his Minecraft skin.

“Sophie, thank you for the dono! ‘Hey George, I love your videos, just wanted to ask if you were speedrunning with Dream today?’” he read out, and you could faintly hear Sapnap join the stream through your headphones.

“No I’m not, Dream’s… I don’t know what Dream’s doing right now, actually. He’s not responding to me, though. Probably talking to his girlfriend still.” he continued, exaggerating the last part mockingly, still playing into the whiny role of being upset that Clay was ditching the two of them for you. That majorly woke you up, though, as you stood straight on your feet immediately, because oh no, nobody was supposed to know.

You exited out of the Twitch app quickly, letting the stream play in the background as you tried to fish for Sapnap’s profile on Discord and text him as quick as possible, trying to warn him to not let anybody know, but before you could do it, you heard his laughter clear in the stream.

“Yeah, Y/N, his sweetie poo.” Sapnap said, causing George to laugh even louder, before moving onto the next topic, and your heartbeat picked up an insane amount, nails loud and probably damaging your phone screen as you typed as quickly as humanly possible to yell at him because this was not planned, at all.

You heard him go quiet after you shot him a couple of messages over Discord (“SAPNAP” “ARE YOU FUCKING STUPID” “WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU” “NOBODY KNOWS YET” “IM GONNA FUCKING KILL YOU”), type something to George who then fell quiet as well for a few seconds, pure horror on his face, and then went back to streaming as if nothing happened while Sapnap profusely apologised to you on his and George’s behalf.

No apology could fix what had already been done, though, and you were left alone with the warzone that was Twitter who had already speculated the two of you were dating long before while Clay peacefully slept somewhere in his house at 4 am in Florida. You bombarded him with messages and waited until he woke up ‘cause what were you even supposed to do?!

You chose to spend your time finishing the pizza you were originally supposed to make and almost burnt your whole apartment down because you forgot the oven was on for a whole hour while yelling at Clay’s idiotic best friends. You yelled at Sapnap, who kept apologising to you, you yelled at George, who yelled back that it’s not that big of a deal because people were bound to find out anyways, and you yelled at Clay, because he was the guilty one somehow for not being awake during your breakdown.

He did eventually wake up though, to the shitshow that were his notifications with at least thirty messages from each of you, messages from his other YouTube friends who were fairly surprised, and his entire fanbase going ham on Twitter. He was surprisingly calm about it - calmer than you were, anyways, and sheepishly said over the phone that the fake dating thing may have to go on for a little longer since you couldn’t just date for a month and then break up, and you were sort of okay with that.

And of course, the business side of him awoke at that moment, and he giddily told you about the amount of views the two of you could pull if you did the same shit you do with George and Sapnap anyway, but on livestream.

You rolled your eyes.

And then agreed anyway.

And so, the charade began.

His Twitter statement was up shortly, telling the people that you’d been dating for a couple of weeks and weren’t planning to tell anybody yet until a certain someone spilled their guts live, and the fact Dream was dating someone, let alone another popular streamer, took the internet by storm. You expected hate, and you got quite a bit of that, but the people that had shipped the two of you before were certainly more than delighted and a lot of Clay’s fans were supportive.

Now, both of you had excuses to do chill streams together and just hang out and you took the opportunity and ran with it.

You’d sit and play Geoguessr or just try and speedrun Minecraft a bunch of times for hours on end, doing stupid bits and things you’d be doing offline anyways, with a little more flirting than usual, because that’s what made it interesting.

“Oh this is France, for sure.” you claimed one night, two or three weeks after the secret was officially out, chewing on the fries you bought for this specific occasion, streaming on his alt to a few thousand people.

“You think so? It could be Belgium, too.” he responded, humming in thought as he looked around.

“I know so.” you responded.

“How?”

“I just do. Gamer intuition, babe.” you said, and he wheezed at your response, repeating the words gamer intuition under his breath.

“No, seriously. It is France, I know it is, I’ve seen so many pictures of that place I know it like the back of my hand now. That’s Lyon, or something.” you continued, plopping another french fry into your mouth.

“You have? Why do you know so much about France, that’s so random.” he responded, opening the map and pointing to France, although he keeps looking around, unsure of his decision.

“I dunno, I like it there. I wish I could move there.” you replied.

“Why, though?”

“It’s pretty and heavily romanticised! Just like me!” you joked and he laughed, before letting you continue. “I dunno, it’s the city of love. Be a little romantic.”

“The… the city of love is whatever city the two of us are in.” he said, and it took a few seconds for you to process the joke before letting out a fake disappointed sigh.

“I can’t believe I’m dating someone as corny as you.”

At that, he bursts into wheezes, and you follow along, enjoying the sound of his laughter coursing through your headphones more than you used to a few weeks back. It feels nice, feels right, acting like this. You like calling him your boyfriend more than you think you should.

A few weeks go by, and it feels all too natural. It feels too natural, talking to him first thing in the morning when you’ve barely even had your coffee, calling him pet names, throwing sweet words at each other publicly like they mean nothing. It feels all too natural, and nice, and all too right, and you don’t even notice when the two of you cross the line between public and private, and you’re stuck making stupid jokes about making out when you first see each other when there’s nobody to witness them except the walls of your rooms, but you don’t like thinking about that, because you know it’ll bring nothing but confusion. The current this that the two of you have is perfect to you, perfectly lighthearted and funny and fun, and you intend on keeping it that way, refusing to think about it in any way past jokes.

That is, until you can’t anymore.

It’s late, again, and you’re staring at his contact name on your phone screen, lazily lying on the bed. It reminds you of a night from roughly 3 months ago, when your whole friendship seemed to change in the few seconds it took you to process what he’d asked of you, and it feels weird, but nice.

“My mom really likes you, you know?” Clay breaks the quiet that you’ve learned to appreciate in his presence, and you exhale through your nose, the noise just short of a chuckle.

“Yeah?” You laugh, and he does as well.

“Yeah.” He reaffirms. “She thinks you’re a great girlfriend. Apparently I seem brighter ever since we got together.”

You laugh again. “I am a great girlfriend, to be fair. She’s totally right.”

“Well, I wouldn’t know that. If you’re as good of a girlfriend as you pretend to be, though, then you’re amazing.” He says, and words fly out of your mouth before you can stop them.

“Yeah? You wanna find out?” The flirty nature is nothing strange to the two of you, but this time it feels kinda different, it feels like you’re stepping into dangerous territory that there’s no coming back from. You feel like you’ve ruined everything, for some reason.

He laughs, like normal, though. He laughs like nothing happened at all, and you’re so, so grateful for that.

“Sure, let’s do it. You’re about to unpack the full Clay boyfriend experience.” He snickers and you laugh as well.

“That means I just unlock the dick as well as the personality.” you respond, quick as always, and the wheeze that escapes him is so loud that it makes you laugh too.

“...Unlock the dick…” he repeats through another wheeze and you nod, laughing.

“Yeah! I mean I’m literally experiencing the boyfriend experience without actually having a boyfriend, it’s fuckin’ great.” you say and he hums.

“You could have one, though.”

The implications are crazy, his words are crazy, he’s crazy and everything that he could mean and couldn’t mean by that is driving you crazy too, brain faltering and heart seeming way too big for your chest to contain it. It’s silent.

“I could, I guess.”

You choose to say, and he switches the topic naturally, like he never said anything.

Things are never the same again.

It’s not in a bad way. Sure, it is kind of a bad way for the feelings you’re trying to push down inside you, a bad way for hot nights when the unbearable heat forces you to stay up even when you don’t want to and you have no choice but to think about why you feel the way you feel as you melt into the burning sheets below you, a bad way for when he jokes about finding somebody else and you feel your stomach churning. A bad way for realising that this fake dating thing is really getting to you, but not a bad way in general.

Maybe it’s in a good way. Maybe the underlying implications whenever he makes jokes about making the relationship real are good, maybe the way he calls you in the middle of the night when he’s anxious and freaking out and defends himself by saying: “You’re my girlfriend, you’re always there for me, I just figured I could call you.” and you end up wondering if it’s possible to say jokes in such a vulnerable state or if he’s serious is good, maybe the way it’s been a few months and he won’t tell his own best friends that it was a joke the whole time is good, maybe the way you confronted him about it and he said he likes having you as his girlfriend is good.

Maybe the way the two of you are always walking the line between joking and being serious, between being friends and something more, between lies and pranks and emotional investment and fear of committing, and the way you’re always trying to push the other off, is good.

The fans love it. The fanart is incredible (serves especially well for those hot nights when you can’t fall asleep and you scroll, watching yourself fall in love with Clay in every universe, tales told by people who observe your story and find it worthy enough to retell in their own words, to take the love you pretend to have and turn it into something real), people love to gush over the compliments he sprinkles in at random times during conversation and the general flirty dynamic is loved by many, pulling in more views and attraction for you.

And you suppose that’s good too, but at some point, the good warps into bad, bad warps into terrible, and you wonder if this is all even worth the sleepless nights, wondering if he feels the same way.

Those thoughts haunt you more and more often every day. When you wake up, and text him first thing in the morning, your brain acknowledges that the camera is off - nobody’s around, people aren’t listening, so why are you still playing the role of a girlfriend and starting up a conversation with him when you haven’t even brushed your teeth properly? When you’re editing in the middle of the day and he calls to keep you company, making more stupid boyfriend jokes, your stomach flips in a weird way that makes you hate him, hate the way he can joke about these things so freely, like it doesn’t hurt him. Like it doesn’t affect him like it affects you.

But, as much as you wish you could hate him, you couldn’t bring yourself to, and that was the worst part. Because, in reality, whenever he laughed you’d smile without realising you did, whenever anything exciting happened to you he was the first one you went to, whenever you wanted to laugh or cry or sit in silence for hours or complain you always went to him, the one person who you know would listen. In reality, whenever he made a joke about giving up on the fake dating and making it real, you wished so bad that he was serious this time, that this was what it took and he’d crack and all of your suffering would end.

It eventually happens.

It’s a pretty chilly morning, birds chirp outside and the sun that slowly rises is covering the kitchen floor in a golden hue as you pour milk into your cereal with one hand and hold your phone in the other, letting Clay ramble about whatever it was this time, when he brought it up.

“So, when do you wanna come down to Florida again?” he asks casually, and you almost drop the gallon of milk in your hand.

“What?”

“I said, when are you coming down to Florida again? Last time you came was pretty fun.” he says, and an empty silence follows. There’s an unsaid “I miss you” that you don’t hear, and he’s too afraid of saying it.

“Florida wasn’t exactly on my schedule this month, man.” you say, placing your phone on the counter for a second. Clay sure knew how to surprise a person.

“Well put it down, then.” he jokes, and you hum.

“What, you got another wedding coming up?” you giggle and he groans - you never really stopped making fun of him for that wedding.

“No, I don’t. Can’t a man just miss seeing his beloved girlfriend?” It’s unbelievable how quickly dread can wash over you as soon as he makes one of those jokes. You were convinced the mix of anxiety and butterflies that appears in your stomach was gonna kill you sometime soon.

“He can, he’s just being weirdly insistent.” you argue nonetheless. “But sure, I’ll consider it.”

You do more than consider it - in a few weeks, you’re back at the airport, and falling into his arms has never given you such an adrenaline rush in your whole life. Something about having him wrapped around you, close to you, the warmth of his body radiating into yours sent you spiraling, head clouded with nothing but love and the fact that you wish you could stay there forever. You wished you could press pause and cherish the moment, let yourself bask in that feeling of pure love, pure adoration that you helplessly drowned in. But you couldn’t, and you left his arms feeling oddly empty.

Hiding the fact that you were unapologetically head over heels for him proved to be a hundred times more difficult when you were right there, next to him, talking to him, when you could just kiss him any second, feel his lips on yours and nobody would stop you - the opportunity was right there, looming over you, the devil on your shoulder taunting you, telling you to do it.

You got to wake up in the same house as him, watch his hair stick out in different directions and his raspy morning voice as he complained about the smell of your coffee, watch his eyes glint whenever he talked about something he liked and observe as he carried around Patches like a little baby. You got to experience every bit of domestic without the consequences of committing, and you wondered just how far this would go. For how much longer would the two of you blatantly ignore the fact that you were a couple that slapped the title “fake” on it because you were cowards who refused to admit what this truly was.

Not for long, apparently, because you grew tired, and decided to put an end to everything on one random Thursday night - and if he hated you forever for it, then so be it.

You were sitting on his couch, watching a random movie together, drowning in one of his Dream hoodies while you chewed the popcorn he made. It was dark outside, just past midnight, and you could see the branches of a tree swaying calmly through one of the nearby windows - the silence while he scrolled through his phone lazily was comforting too, everything was lazy and serene and it would’ve been perfect if it wasn’t for the constant anxiety that gripped you by the throat whenever you were in his close proximity, the nervousness that killed you, the upset feeling of wanting to cuddle up with him but knowing you can’t because you guys are just friends, and nothing more.

The couple on the screen kiss while a violin plays in the background - how fitting. Maybe that’s what pushes you to the edge, or maybe you were just that sick and tired.

You were exhausted, beyond exhausted. Your eyes were tired, the anxiety was morphing into annoyance and anger and you were ready to give up on it all. If this ended the friendship, at least you two had a good run. Your heart couldn’t take it anymore.

“You know, you still owe me a favor in return for pretending to be your girlfriend.” you say, and you sound gone, zoned out, more than you wish you were. You hear his phone turn off with a click.

“Yeah? What do you want?” Clay asks, and you blankly stare at the TV for a few seconds before turning to face him, eyes burning.

“Kiss me.”

It’s silent. The characters on screen are arguing. You hear the wind through one of his open windows.

“What?” he asks, voice cracking, and his expression falls. You’ve fucked it. Oh well.

“I want you to kiss me. Kiss me like you mean it. Kiss me like someone’s watching and you wanna make it believable.” you say, eyes boring into his, your words having nowhere near as much of an effect on yourself as they do on him. Your eyes sting like they’re being lit on fire, and your throat is sort of closing up, but it’s fine. “Let me have this before I go, because once I leave, I don’t wanna do this anymore, Clay. I can’t pretend like I don’t want you to introduce me as your girlfriend and fully mean it. I can’t lie to your face anymore.”

Silence. Deafening silence, once again.

“I love you.” he blurts out, and you don’t even register it at first. “I don’t want this shit to be fake either. God, I really don’t. It hasn’t been fake for a while now, at least not on my part. I’m sorry, it’s just- it was easier to keep this bit going than it was to actually admit that I’m… into you.”

And once again, the room falls into silence, much like it always does whenever the two of you share moments like these.

And then, you burst into laughter.

“So… so you mean to tell me, that both of us have liked each other this whooooole fucking time, and just refused to admit it and ‘pretended to date’ instead?” you burst into giggles, and he looks sort of hesitant to laugh, but he does anyway.

“I mean… yeah? I was waiting for you to call me out for doing all that when nobody was watching! Why did you never call me out?! Don’t blame me, I made it so damn obvious that I wanted you!” he protests, and you almost can’t believe what you’re hearing.

“Excuse me? You should’ve just fucking told me instead of making a million and one jokes about how I’m your girlfriend! We’re not in middle school, Clay!” you argue.

“Yeah, but I thought you’d catch on and talk to me about it at some point! You never called me out for anything!”

“So what, I’m supposed to just read your mind now? You’re fucking unbelievable.” you huff, crossing your arms over your chest and turning away in annoyance. As soon as a warm hand lands on your shoulder, though, the annoyance melts like wax under fire, leaving nothing behind.

“I still haven’t returned that favor, you know?” he whispers in your ear, breath fanning your neck, closer than he should be. The hairs on your neck stand up as you turn back to Clay, who wore a mischievous grin and a glint in his eyes that suggested no good.

You suppose bad can be good, sometimes.

As his lips press onto yours, that theory is proven true, because he sends a flicker of fire burning down your spine, spreading into your limbs, making your fingertips electric as you pulled him in closer, hand snaking up to grip at his hair - the everlasting grin against your own proves, once again, to be no good as his hands slip under your hoodie and grip your sides, but you think you enjoy this sort of bad.

They sneak up further, and you hear him chuckle into the kiss as your insides melt at his touch. The two of you silently agree that maybe he should ask for favors more often.

#dreamwastaken x reader #dreamwastaken imagine #dreamwastaken fluff #dreamwastaken fanfic #dreamwastaken angst #dream x reader #dream x you #dreamwastaken x y/n

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