#to be fair i was never close with my great grandmother so im not particularly broken up about that one | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

jawllines · 7 years

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OKAY THIS IS WHAT I HAVE OF THE FIC SO FAR

NOW YOU CAN SEE WHERE IM GOING WITH IT, IF THERE’S ANYWHERE SPECIFIC YOU’D LIKE ME TO TAKE IT, HE L P ME IM IN A RUT

Y/N didn't want to do this.

She blames her reluctant willingness on just being a damn good friend and an even better worker -- honest to goodness, she doesn't think Jeff pays her enough for all the mire he forces her to sludge through. Growing close to the Azoffs in the short time of knowing them hadn't seemed like the worst possible idea she's ever had, but after the first few sticky situations she probably should've weeded herself out before she became to entangled in the warm, cozy feeling of belonging that they bestow upon her (which was nice, especially since she was so far away from home). From having to soothe a very angry, very pregnant wife of a client with saltwater taffies she'd gotten as a gift (she was still very bitter), to running around the entirety of LA trying to find a replica of a gold trimmed, rose broach Jeff had accidentally broken of his wife's grandmother's.

Doing it all with minor complaint, Y/N must've lead him on to believe she loves terribly tricky tasks.

However, sailing across the sea last minute to find a replacement for the Swedish model that was meant to be apart of Jeff's upcoming projects wasn't particularly her idea of a great time. Neither was packing up and hitting a jet with a pop star still buzzing from interviews, album releases, and promos, but since the curly haired, green eyed prodigy was already headed that way, had a vision in mind for what Jeff was looking for, and happens to know quite a few people at the modelling agency she was meant to visit. Nor was the short notice of doing it tomorrow morning, catching a 6AM flight out to the UK.

Yet here she was, watching with a despondent slump of the shoulders as he booked two rooms for her and Harry Styles, who had agreed easily on the other line of the phone.

Jeff took a look back at her, before rolling his eyes, "Don't look so shattered, Babe. Really it's like m'sending you on a vacation while I leave the brunt work to myself."

Y/N huffs, sinking in her seat and her dress rides up a bit but she pays no mind to it, "Can't I just go to your sister's wedding as a stand in? Heard I'm great at impressions."

Snorting, he clicks the bright red BOOK NOW button to seal her fate, spinning back around in his chair, "Yeah, just reconstruct your face a bit and I'm sure that'll totally pass over well." He leans forward and straightens out a stack of papers, patting them down on the table in a heap, "You'll be fine. 'sides Harry'll be there, and he knows his way around London well, so you've nothing to worry about."

Y/N doesn't know how to tell Jeff that Harry going might actually be the worst part.

Harry and Y/N have a -- well, a weird relationship. While they don't hate each other, Harry takes to teasing her relentlessly and Y/N fires back whenever he does. He seems to love getting her all grumpy and flustered and pokes at everything he can to just rustle her feathers, which is better dealt with in small doses, but a two week expenditure of constant jabs, was enough to make her shudder.

Believe it or not, Y/N had been a big fan of Harry before this. When she met him she was all jittery and wiggly and squeaky but somehow managed to place herself on his shit list, without doing anything. . .okay! Okay, maybe she accidentally spilled a tray of drinks on his lap and ruined his suit, but in her defense it was a heavy tray. Though she didn't think that warranted his tireless taunts for the rest of forever. Surely the loved by all, sweet guy could turn around and show her some of that soft side, right?

Wrong.

So the mere idea of more than 168 hours with Harry makes her want to scream a bit, especially when she has no time to mentally prepare.

"With how you're reacting, you'd think I'm sending you off to war." Jeff jokes with her, but Y/N pouts at him, beginning to gather up her things, "Just don't stress it."

"Stress it? What's stress? Why would I ever do that?" She rambles off, shoving papers into her large tote quickly and nearly crumbling them, "Just have to go home, cram two weeks of life into a suitcase, call someone to watch my cat and water my plants, have someone collect my mail, and now I definitely won't be able to take any meditative soaks in the comfort of my own home -- yeah, what does the worst stress even mean, Jeff-y Babes, why worry about anything ever at all!"

He's holding back his laughter, she can tell, but she's too disgruntled to think much of it, "God, who knew you could be such a frazzled lil thing? Don't worry about your cat or your plants or your mail, I'll be round to do that. As for the bath, the hotel I booked you has a nifty Jacuzzi tub and Harry's got stellar vanilla lavender bubbles, he'll probably let you use." He soothes her, "Now get home and pack up, you've got an early flight tomorrow! A car will be there at 4:30AM."

That was that, Y/N supposes, as she stands up and pivots on her heel with a small goodbye.

"Hey," Jeff calls just before she's out of the door, and for a glimmering moment she hopes he's about to say he was pranking her; an elaborate trick to mess with her. However, he merely says, "Play nice."

Y/N snorts -- she's not the one he should be worrying about.

. . .

Y/N comes heave hoeing her luggage to Harry's private jet's terminal, at 5:40 AM, with sleep puffy eyes and hair mussed to a fair degree. Waking up at 3:50 for a shower really did her in, especially when she wasn't able to sleep the night before. So now she's sulking towards Harry Styles himself, who is waiting for her patiently at the stairs, leaning against them and scrolling through his phone. It takes him a minute to catch the sound of her baggage's wheels on the concrete, but once he does he looks up, a sly smile pulling at his mouth.

"G'morning Sunshine," Harry greets her, with voice clear of any rasp and looking as good as he always does, which is infuriating, "Ready for our romantic getaway?"

"Am I ever?" She answers grumbly, starting up the stairs. Y/N's been in a few private jets in her days thanks to Jeff, so the wonder of it has wilted some as she shoves her things in the overhead compartment before tugging her, soft, plushy comforter out of her duffel and throwing it around her body, a ball of yarn taking up the seat besides her as she settles and tries to suffocate pre-flight anxiety with the dream of making at east 3 pairs of socks in the time she has on the plane.

Harry snorts at her as he walks by, "Could you be more like my Nan?" He questions, plopping down in his seat across from her, sliding his phone from his pocket. He's got that smile that he only pulls for her -- like he knows that he's Jeff's favorite, and he knows how much he can get underneath her skin -- it's really annoying, "Jeff tol' me you were a bit reluctant on coming, 'cos you're scared of big cities by yourself --"

"I'm not scared." Y/N answers a little to quickly, frustration with Jeff making her miss the loop she was trying to crochet into, "I just don't like impromptu fly outs when I haven't had a chance to check the city out first."

Rolling his eyes, Harry continues, "--but I know this place like the back of me hand."

"Are you trying to comfort me?"

"No," Harry leans back and shuts his eyes, "I'm letting you know if you piss me off, I'll take you to the middle of the city and leave."

Y/N doesn't know if it's a bluff or not, as she digs into her duffel for her phone and sends Jeff an all capital message.

YOU ARE THE WORST!!!!!!!!

Harry is -- well Y/N has seen Harry be the nicest guy in a building with thousands of other people, and turn around to sneer at her. She's seen him hold the door open for Grimmy, and let it swing shut in her face (or, if he's feeling really passive aggressive, shoving it open with a fake smile and ushering her in). Y/N's had to sit and listen to him compliment each and every person up and down, left and right, then completely skip over her with a small passing glance.

So sure, she spilled her drink on him, but that'd never been vindictive in anyway. Y/N guesses Harry was just set on hating her from the moment he'd got a look at her -- their stars must not align, or something of the sort, because that'd be the only reasonable explanation.

While Jeff doesn't have an inkling of an idea of how terrible it could be (Harry is his pop star and long time friend, Y/N wasn't about to drag him into something, especially when she knew very well who's side he would pick), Cal has noticed. Told her not to worry about it, and that how he's teasing her seems to match up with how someone might taunt the person they like, but Y/N knows better than that. Has seen him with the girl's he's dated or pursuing, and none of them are greeted with a sly remark and a mischievous grin, nor does he manage to make them look like the bad guy for defending themselves.

Y/N's learned to just keep quiet and leave it be, however, because he's Harry Styles -- the world's sweetheart to everyone apart from her -- and she knows how to pick and choose her battles.

This is not the battle to pick.

About halfway into the flight, Y/N had pulled out her tablet to watch a movie -- and she had thought this would go unnoticed, but Harry clears his throat and when her eyes flicker up, his flicker down towards the ipad in her hands, nodding towards it, "Wha' movie, you got?"

"Robin Hood." Y/N answers, readily prepared to go back to the movie, but he keeps going.

"Oh, that crummy 2010 remake? Y'need better taste, Babe."

Y/N rolls her eyes, "What you're in one movie and now you're a modern day Hitchcock, is that it?" She shuffles in her seat, "'Sides, m'not even watching that one. Watching Robin Hood: Men in Tights."

With a grunt, Harry goes back to his phone, a hint of a smile playing at his lips.

She ignores this in favor of fantasizing about a young Cary Elwes.

. . .

It's rainy, as expected from London weather, so Y/N had her head hidden beneath the hood of her coat as she tried warding away shivers from the chilly air. If not for the thick, faux feathered filled cloth, everyone within a miles radius would she was hardcore nipping, and the goosebumps only furthered the fact she got too lazy to shave her legs the night previous. She'd prepped for the chilly weathered though, which was good, though she can't say the same for Harry, who is casually strolling from the airport to the car waiting to take him to the hotel.

Absently had she wondered why he didn't just go stay at his London home, but she figured Jeff coaxed him into the hotel life so they'd be within close proximity of each other, which also might've been for her benefit. Y/N had never visited London before and she presumes Jeff doesn't trust her not to get lost, or to try and hitch a ride back home without the model in tow (which she can't fault him on, really, it's not that far of a stretch). This meant that Harry will either be his regular, moody self towards her, or he'll be even snippier that she's the reason he must live in a hotel for a while.

"Oi, would like a minute without paps on me tail, so stop shiverin' like that, you're making a spectacle of yourself. ."

"And you're not?" Y/N grumbles at him, "Your pants are brighter than the sun today, but m'shiverin' is really doing us in, innit?"

"We've been here for little over five minutes, and you've already garnered that London attitude." Harry slips around to the driver's side, taking the keys from the man adorned in black before nodding, smiling his thank you, "Hate to see what it must be after a week here, already a little firecracker."

"Bite me." She shoves her bags into the trunk, along with her folded up blanket.

Harry tosses his duffel into the backseat, "Don't tempt me, Sweetheart."

. . .

Just as Y/N's luck would have it, upon arriving at the hotel, they find that Jeff didn't book two rooms, he booked one room with two beds, and there were no other rooms left where they could switch to due to several conventions (including a model scouting one they might become privy to) going on. This meant a week and a half of non-stop Harry, unless he went out, but he'd always have to come back -- whether it be drunk or hungover, neither she particularly wanted to deal with. This also meant she would have no peace nor time to collect her thoughts without something going on in the background, especially since this was strictly a bedroom with a TV -- no extension of living room like some might have.

"Well, this is shit." Harry mutters to himself, setting his duffel down at the bottom of the bed he'd chose and huffing as he collapsed back onto the bed.

"What? You're not stoked to spend day and night with me?" She says sardonically, sat on the edge of the bed as she kicks her shoes off. The room is nice enough, aside from the glaring problem with their situation, but at least the comforter felt soft enough and the carpets were pretty cozy on the toes. Maybe if she just keeps her eyes closed and music in her ears she'll be able to enjoy her stay here.

Harry, however, seems to be pretty peeved, "Was gon' go out, invite people back for a spell, do some wooing. . ." he trails off, "You're oddly quiet about this. With how uptight you are, I figured you would've blown up at that guy."

"M'not uptight." Y/N decides to say first, "And I'm tired, is all. Just want to eat and go to bed. 'Sides, maybe me being here will do you some good -- no use getting all rowdy with models at the bar, especially with this new solo stuff out."

"What does that matter to you?" He asks, propping himself on his elbow and turns to face her, head tilted, "So what if I get rowdy?"

"Rowdy equals media problems. Media problems are Jeff's problems. Jeff's problems are my problems."

Y/N knows he wouldn't -- despite his question, and a small kiss of his teeth, she knows he isn't stupid. Knows how to work his way around the media -- it's how he's ended up being America, England, France's, Spain's -- just about every country's damn Sweetheart, when he could be such a grade A jerk (if you ask her). Though it's realizations like these that irk her. What had she done to make the "sweetest boy alive" be so cruel to her?

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