#Walks better than half of the models at fashion week

[fluffygif]

The hops!❤️

[w2sology]

in your skin, harry lewis.

summary: harry feels like you two haven't been spending enough time together, only he doesn't want to come off as clingy.

warnings: language, reader has an occupation in fashion.

harry felt like he couldn't breathe or function properly. for the past week, he'd been doing nothing except attend video shoots and moor around the house until you got back from work, and even then you'd still be doing work.

he felt like you two were drifting apart a little, and after the years that you two had been together, that had become one of his worst fears.

today was no different, except you were working from home instead of at your office desk. a phone in one hand and a pen in the other, you jotted down important notes from your call as your eyes occasionally skimmed through your laptop, looking for any changes in this week's runway.

harry walked past, originally planning to go straight to the kitchen to get a snack, but his mind got the better of him and he found himself standing right at your feet in the living room.

looking up at him, you flashed a smile as you hummed in response to your colleague on the other end of the phone.

not satisfied enough with your answer, harry huffed to himself, throwing his arms up in defeat as he walked towards the kitchen.

"she won't even look at me for more than a second, what am i, chopped liver?" he muttered under his breath.

you heard him mumble, but didn't hear exactly what he said, choosing to brush it away.

"okay, so what do you think about adding a few more models to the shoot before the show?" you suggested to your colleague.

"hm, that's doable."

harry rummaged through the cupboards, settling on some winders to eat before making his way out of the kitchen, only to see you still on the phone.

you looked up to meet his gaze, raising your brows as if to ask him what was wrong.

"you're still busy?" he whispered.

placing the phone on mute so your conversation wouldn't be heard, you sent an apologetic smile towards your boyfriend. "i'll only be about fifteen more minutes, babe."

that was a good enough answer for harry, so he stuck by your words and sat on the couch opposite you, deciding to use his phone to pass time.

this wasn't a new feeling to harry, he always felt this way when he had been away from you for too long or when he felt like he hasn't been with you for long enough. to others, it was just the effect of being with your partner for so long. but to harry, it was like if he didn't have you, his whole world would come crashing down.

fifteen minutes turned into twenty, which turned into thirty, and before harry new it, you had began discussing a whole other plan to the one you were originally discussing.

frankly, harry was getting a bit fed up. his attention span was bad enough as it was but with you denying him any sort of attention, he felt like he was going to die.

tossing his phone next to him, harry got up and walked where you were, flopping in the spot that wasn't covered in notebooks, fineliners, unfinished designs, and gel pens.

you rolled your head to the side to once again greet him with a smile, and only then did you see the frown on his beautiful face.

mouthing a quick 'what's wrong?' to him, you brought your hand to gently caress his cheek, touching his forehead as well to make sure he wasn't feeling ill, which he wasn't.

at the feeling of your touch, harry swore he could've melted right there and then — his eyes began to flutter as you cradled his face, but his from was still visible.

"hang up on her," he mumbled, still clear enough for you to hear.

"i'm almost done, harry."

"you've said that four times in the past two and a half hours, y/n."

"someone's needy today," you giggled, seeing absolutely nothing wrong with your boyfriend's clingyness.

in fact, you found it wholesome how harry always wanted to spend time with you — some boyfriends would get sick of seeing their girls every single day.

"i'm not needy... am i?" he doubted himself.

"right, carly, is that everything then?" you began to wrap up your phone call, saying goodbye to your co-worker and packing up your notes and stuff.

"fucking finally, i was beginning to run out of air!" harry groaned, sinking down in the couch.

laughing at his dramatics, you put your things on the coffee table for now, before turning to harry.

his arms wrapped around your — his — t shirt, pulling you onto his stomach so you could be properly embraced by him. however, harry was never fully content until you had skin to skin contact, so his hands snuck under your shirt snd rested on your hips.

as you straddled him, your hands once again cradled his face, basking in the intimacy of the position you were currently in.

leaning forward, harry's eyes naturally closed as he met your lips with his, sighing into the kiss.

kissing harry would never get old, you still felt those jitters that you had the very first time that he kissed you.

placing small kisses on your lips before totally pulling away, harry looked up at you through hooded, love drunk eyes. "i miss you."

"i'm right here?" you raised an eyebrow.

"no, i know that," harry sighed, running a hand through his hair. "i just feel like we haven't been that close lately."

pouting at his confession, you pushed your body closer to harry's, wrapping your arms around his neck so that you could hug him as closely as possible.

he returned your hug, letting a smile drift onto his face at the form of contact.

"i'm sorry we haven't spent much time together lately," you whispered. "but i promise, i'm all yours now, and whenever you want me to be."

"do you pinky promise?" he asked, holding up his pinky finger.

with a laugh, you took his pinky and linked it with yours, both of you sealing the promise with a kiss. "i do."

"good." harry was about to kiss you again, before he was interrupted by your phone ringing besides you both.

turning your head to look at the id, you saw it was talia calling you. your mind was split between answering the call or tending to your boyfriend, who held the biggest mug on his face.

"don't answer it."

"but harry..."

"y/n..." he groaned, throwing his arms about. "you're my girlfriend, not hers!"

that line had you laughing, as you forgot about your phone, making a mental note to ring talia back before the end of the day.

"right. now i'm all yours." you mumbled against his lips.

[frenchkisstheabyss]

✶ Pendulum ✶

✶ Pairing: model!hyunjin x model!chubby!fem!reader

✶ Genre: fluff, angst, smut

✶ Summary: You visit Hyunjin on the night of his big art exhibit intent on closing this chapter of your life but he's not willing to let go that easily.

✶ Word Count: 1.2k-ish

✶ Warnings: Hyunjin's a lil bit possessive, fingering, nibbling, marking, and that's about it my loves

✶ A/N: This is part two of a Hyunjin/Minho love triangle fic that has come to emotionally wreck me but I love it and fingers crossed you will too! 🖤 part three is here 🖤

It’s been three weeks since Paris Fashion Week. Three weeks since you fell in love with Minho. Three weeks of falling asleep on FaceTime and sneaking little moments in with each other between your busy schedules. There was no way to anticipate that you’d come to mean this much to each other, your feelings deepening as the days go on.

Saying yes to that date with Minho opened the door to a new way of being cherished that only he can offer. But there remains a thread tied to the corner of your heart, tugging you back to your past. If you’re to step through the door that lies before you, you must first shut the one that lies behind...

And that’s what brings you here...

to an upscale art gallery a half hour before Hyunjin’s first exhibit. Crisp autumn leaves dance along the pavement, a ballet of deep reds and vibrant yellows, as you flee the chilly night air for the warmth of the sleek, rustic gallery. Matte black walls combine with polished cherry wood accents to give you the sense that you’re somewhere you can be comfortable. But not too comfortable.

You can already smell his cologne, cedar and spice, coasting through the air to greet you before he appears at the top of the stairs to your left. “You came,” he says, feigning indifference as he takes his time descending the stairs. After he broke your heart you insisted that he no longer held any power over you. The spell had been broken, or so you thought. So you hoped. But no such thing is true.

Hyunjin moves like a gazelle, his limbs long and graceful. He somehow manages to make the simple act of walking feel like a performance art piece. Tonight he’s pulled his hair back into a high ponytail, a few delicate strands left hanging to frame his now smiling face. Standing before you, he extends an arm, his hand patiently at your service. You slip out of your jacket, tossing it over his arm.

“Well, you said you wanted to talk so I’m here.” Hyunjin laughs, finding amusement in the way you’ve turned the tables. Pretending not to care when you both know you wouldn’t be here if you didn’t. “I was going to take your hand—” he starts, his gaze trailing behind you as you journey deeper into the gallery.

You always thought it a shame that people could never seem to get past his physical appearance long enough to see what’s truly special about him. Surrounded by his art, drawings and paintings he’d once only been brave enough to reveal to you, you can’t help but feel proud of him. “Hwang Hyunjin, jack of all trades” you sigh, stopping to get a closer look at a watercolor painting of butterflies whose wings seemingly melt down the canvas.

Hyunjin joins you, ignoring the painting to admire your silk black dress.

“Jack of all trades, master of none, but I’m still, I guess, better than a master of one.”

“Mmm, I don’t know about that. What’s so bad about a master of one? Maybe the master of one just knows where his heart is.”

The back of his hand strokes your arm, sending an electric current through your body. Out of the corner of your eye, you notice that he’s moved closer. Close enough for the sensation of his breath on your neck to give you shivers when he asks, “Where’s yours?” “Where’s my what?” Your head snaps toward him, the accusatory tone of his voice triggering your defenses.

“Your heart. Do you know where it is?” 

“You have no right to ask me that. Not when you broke it.” Every fiber of your being is telling you to run away and Hyunjin must sense it because his arms are around you before you can make your grand escape. “Don’t run from me” he pleads, “Just tell me what I can do to fix it.” You’ve never seen Hyunjin cry before but the moisture pooling in the corners of his eyes is a sure sign that you might.

Nothing can erase the pain that he made you feel yet you can’t deny what he’s done since to ease it. Showing up to Paris Fashion Week alone, refusing to arrive with any woman who wasn't you. Admitting where he went wrong when it came to being honest with you. Apologizing in every language he knows and in a few he doesn't. Professing his love for you openly among your social circle without a care for how sensitive they may think he is.

He’s stepped so far outside of his character that occasionally you had to pinch yourself to make sure his efforts weren’t all in your head. To ask more of him feels almost sadistic. “It’s not you” you admit, lifting some of the pressure from his shoulders, “I’m just, I don’t know. Afraid?”

“Afraid? Of what?”

“Of the piece of my heart that’s still here with you.” You love him still. And you can’t outrun it any more than you could the way your heart ached for Minho when he first touched your hand, comforting you before the red carpet all those nights ago. You hate yourself for it, wishing that you could make these feelings disappear, all the while surrendering to Hyunjin’s kiss.

He sweeps you into it without warning, no longer able to control the need to feel your tongue against his. Kissing him is that first bite of your favorite food after you’ve been deprived of it for far too long. Your senses are aflame, moisture creeping between your thighs as he presses your back to the wall. Hyunjin buries his face between your breasts, his tongue lashing and nibbling as they rise and fall with each bated breath you take.

Your fingers tangle with his hair, the tie that keeps his ponytail secure quickly slipping to the floor. “You have to be mine again,” he says, not asking but telling. Demanding. He raises one of your legs to straddle his hip, pushing a hand between you to knead your pillow soft thighs. “He can’t have you. I won’t let him.” Hyunjin kisses you all over, suckling at your sensitive skin to mark his territory.

Pushing his hips further between your legs, he teases the wetness of your panties, your clit already stiff enough to feel through the thin cotton. “Hyunjin, please—” you beg, not quite knowing what you’re begging for. Less? More? The arch of your back as his fingers dive into your core decides it’s ‘more’. He pulls back, his free hand reaching up to cup your cheek, “Say my name again.”

His fingers pick up speed, your walls spasming with each unforgiving twist of his wrist. “Hyunjin” you whine, gripping his shoulders to keep yourself from crumbling to the ground. He missed seeing you this way. Dressed up all pretty, lipstick smeared across your face, moaning his name. Your juices stream down his wrist, leaving tiny drops of your arousal on his sleeve. He welcomes it. Welcomes anything that’ll leave your scent behind for later. “Mine. Always mine” he repeats, circling your clit with his thumb. 

You should’ve never come here. You should’ve stayed as far away from this man as possible. But there’s no use crying over spilled milk. The reality is that you didn’t stay away. Hyunjin called and you came now you’re coming around his fingers, allowing yourself to be claimed once more by the lust filled demons of your past. And, oh, what a glorious one he is.

[kaciidubs]

Hoodie Season | Maknae Line

❣ Summary: What it would be like stealing and wearing their hoodie ❣ ❣ Warnings: None - just fluff and implied relationships. ❣ ❣ Gender Neutral! Reader [No use of Y/N]❣ ❣ Additional Tags: Reader is referred to as babe, angel, love, and pretty, Han is referred to as Jisung, I.N is referred to as Jeongin, mention of food for Jisung, Felix, and Jeongin ❣ Hyung Line ❣ Stray Kids Masterlist ❣ General Masterlist ❣ AO3

Jisung

To be fair, this sweet quokka wouldn’t even know he’s missing a hoodie unless you told him out right. That’s not to say he doesn’t care for the sentimental act - it’s quite the opposite actually! What’s his is yours, and you can raid his hoodies whenever you’d like, he’s just so all over the place that he can’t even be bothered with keeping track of where his clothes go. 

“Babe, let’s go! We’re gonna miss out on all the good snacks!” 

You laughed at his adamant bounces as he stood near the front door, cheeks puffed out into a pout while he patiently waited for you to get a move on.

“You act like the convenience store is going out of business, Sung, relax!” Unfolding the hoodie currently slung around your arm, you quickly slipped it over your arms and head, pulling it down your torso for its final fit. “I thought you said we had enough snacks for tonight anyways?”

“Yeah, but then I remembered this hack I wanted to try, and what better time than to do it with my baby?” His antsy shifting paused for a moment as he took you in, round eyes studying you with intrigue. “Did you always have that hoodie from our tour?”

Raising an eyebrow, you looked down at the black hoodie - ‘Stray Kids Maniac Tour 2023’ plastered across the right side while a flame design and smiley face decorated the left half - before glancing up at him with an incredulous grin. “This?”

He nodded, walking closer to tug at the fabric, “Yeah! Did you manage to get one from the staff or something? I’ve never seen you wear this before, it looks good on you!” Adjusting the strings of the hood, he gazed at you with bright eyes, “You could definitely model our merch, you know.”

Your heart swelled at his genuine compliment, though you couldn’t help the laughter bubbling past your lips as you squeezed his cheek, “My sweet, this is your hoodie! I told you I was borrowing it last week, remember?”

It was almost as if you could see the gears turning in his head before his entire face lit up, “Oh! I knew I was missing something - you still look amazing though! But, seriously, let’s go now so I can show you the best snack to ever exist!”

You complied as he dragged you toward your shoes, graciously giving you the opportunity to slide them on before ushering you out the door with excited chants of ‘Snack date’ and ‘Let’s go’.

In Jisung’s eyes, you looked good in anything, and seeing you in one of his hoodies just further proved to him how perfect you were.

Felix

Stealing hoodies is a two way street for dear Yongbok - in fact, he’d be the first to take from you before you could even decide which of his hoodies would be your first victim; waking up one morning with a hastily written note on your on your nightstand: “Running late for practice, borrowed your hoodie! <;3”

And of course, in true Felix fashion, he somehow made it seem like the hoodie was his to begin with from the way it seemed to naturally fit against his body - almost to the point of you considering giving him the article. Though, he’d never accept it fully since he only liked wearing it because it smelled of you, and if he took it from you permanently it would “ruin the purpose” - it was a part of you, after all.

Sure, you’d have your fill of taking a hoodie or two of his whenever you could, but in this instance he was the bigger offender when it came to hoodie thievery - not that you were complaining, of course, there was something utterly endearing seeing his slim frame dressed in your clothes.

“I’m gonna miss you so much.”

You cooed at his adorable pout over the phone, balancing the device against a paper towel rack, “You’ll only be gone for four days, Lix, we’ve been separated way longer than that before!”

“Yeah, but that doesn’t make it easier!” His whines echoed through the speaker, only making you smile harder at his antics. “Are you trying to say you won’t miss me, angel? Is that it, huh?!”

“Sheesh, someone’s been hanging around Hyunjin a bit too long, haven’t they?” Looking at his image on the small screen, your grin softened, “But if it makes you feel any better, I’ll miss you too, sunshine - you know I will.”

Felix groaned, freckles on full display as he held the phone closer to his face, “It doesn’t because I’m gonna miss you more now!” He couldn’t help the smile that grew from your giggles, pulling his phone away so his face could fill the screen properly, “It’s even worse that your hoodie doesn’t smell like you anymore - I had to wash it after accidentally getting sauce on it.”

You hummed, leaning against the counter and resting your chin on your hands, “If you want, I can bring you another one before you guys leave? Like a little send off gift?”

“Would you really?”

It was hard to miss the sparkle in his eyes as he stared at you through the lens, lips pulled into an open mouthed smile.

“I’m starting to think you’re only dating me for my clothes, Felix.” Playfully rolling your eyes, you pushed yourself away from the counter, “But yes, I’ll do it - but I expect one back in return!”

“Which one do you want?”

“You know the one.”

He laughed and there was a second of delay before the camera switched to the back lens, the screen now showing his closet door and a familiar pink hoodie hanging on the outside - the same one he wore from their Kingdom appearance. “You could come over now to get it early.”

“Does that mean I could also get Lix cuddles and possibly takeout?”

“If I throw in a round of Mario Kart would that make you come faster?”

You stifled a laugh, snatching your phone up and heading toward your bedroom, “You’ve got a deal, sunshine - make sure my controller’s charged!”

Wearing each other’s clothing was more than a relationship trope with Felix, it was about having a part of each other even when you were apart - no matter how long, or how worn they’ve been.

Seungmin

If there had to be a tier list for who had the most hoodies in Stray Kids, then Seungmin took the silver by a very close call with their leader - yet, despite this, he was the hardest to steal from amongst the members.

It’s almost like he had a sixth sense whenever you came even close to walking out the door with one of his hoodies on, and an even worse sense when you managed to sneak your way into his closet to simply look at your options.

“Min, come on, you have like, a thousand of them! Let me just borrow one!”

In all honesty, his collection was a sight to behold - a hoodie of almost every color, each one oversized with varying logos and designs that would be more than enough for a different outfit every day of the month.

“And never see it again? Yeah, no thanks, I’ll just buy you your own.”

You huffed, looking over your shoulder at his lax form reclined on his bed, expression unreadable while his thumb scrolled across his phone’s screen. “It’s not like you’d even notice it’s missing with how often you guys wear styles the staff picked out.”

“I would, because I can see you trying to take it right now,” side eyeing you, a smug smirk tugged at the corner of his lips, “I don’t have the memory of a goldfish like Changbin - I know where all my stuff is.”

A lightbulb went off in your head and you crossed your arms, cocking your head to the side with your tongue in your cheek. “Oh, yeah? Then where’s your face cream, Mr. Know-It-All?”

His eyebrows furrowed, brown eyes narrowing in your direction, “In the bathroom behind the mirror, right next to my moisturizer?”

“What about the Pompompurin headband I got you for your birthday?”

This time he sat up, dropping his phone on his lap and crossing his arms to mirror you, “In the drawer of my nightstand because Felix always begs to see me in it whenever he sees it laying out!”

Scoffing, you nodded your head with an air of condescension, “Alright, then what about your gray hoodie?”

He echoed your scoff, “Which gray hoodie? You can’t try to trick me in a game where I actually need to know what you’re specifically talking about.”

“The one with the wifi heart, puppy.”

“Right side of my closet, behind my red Mahagrid hoodie, love.” Realization washed over his face as he finally recognized your game, eyes going wide when you spun on your heel and b-lined it toward his unopened closet. “Hey! You little-”

Throwing the door open, you quickly pushed hangers and unidentified clothing aside - the sound of his sheets rustling only making your pulse skyrocket as you searched for your prize.

Your name fell from his lips in a shout as he somehow managed to get off of his bed without slipping on the hardwood floor in his rush, though his efforts were futile when you laughed in foul-played victory.

“You obviously don’t know where everything is because it was actually behind your Dodgers hoodie!” Your hands tugged the clothing from its hanger, but not before a pair of arms wrapped around you and pulled you back - hoodie still in hand.

“You are not taking it from me! This game proves nothing!”

“That sounds like something a sore loser would say!”

Laughter filled his room, broken up with demands and empty threats that only meant for more taunting. Sure, you couldn’t steal a hoodie without him knowing, but who says taking one right in front of his eyes wasn’t part of the memo?

Jeongin

You never had to steal anything when it came to Jeongin - even if you had the chance to swipe one without him realizing, why would you when he’d turn bashful and blush whenever you simply asked to wear one of his hoodies?

From the first, to the fifth, to even the tenth time you asked, his reaction would always warm your heart; fox-like eyes turning to crescents, bread cheeks rising with dimples, and that oh-so-lovable laugh rising with the red that turned his ears.

“Pretty, you ready to go to the gaming cafe?”

You jumped up from your spot on the couch, abandoning the random drama you both decided to watch without a second thought, “Ready? I thought you’d never ask - this episode was getting way too predictable.”

“Hey! I thought it was gonna get better - it’s not my fault you wanted to stick around ever since the last episode ended!” Jeongin turned off the tv, tossing the remote to the side before pushing himself off of the cushions.

“Yeah, well…” You drifted off, easily losing any idea for a comeback at his - sadly - true statement. “Whatever! Maybe the next episode is better, but for now it’s time to kick some ass and take some names - oh, and try that new mango drink!”

He hummed in agreement, heading toward the front door to slide his shoes on, “Their fries were really good last time, maybe we should get two orders of them this time, then get something light before dinner.”

“Hey, lover boy, do you mind if I wear one of your hoodies? My jacket is a little thin and it’s supposed to be cold later.”

Pausing mid-foot-in-shoe, he looked up to see you holding your hoodie of choice - a green one he’d worn in a live while teaching thousands of people how to tie a bow in three easy steps It was simple, soft and warm without any pompous branding or design, and the thought of seeing you in it made his heart race.

“I- um, yeah! You can wear it if you want, I don’t mind!” 

He hated how easily he was flustered with this, and the worst part was that he knew you knew the effect you had on him, but it never stopped you from asking the same thing and smiling at him when he gave the same response every time.

In the same breath, it never stopped him from not answering the question, either - as much as you loved his reactions, he loved the sight of you wearing his clothes, even if it was just for a night out.

You could ask him that same question for the rest of his life and he would feel like it was the first time; looking at you with dimpled cheeks and red ears while you tugged on whatever hoodie you decided to model for the world that day.

❣ This one was definitely a long time coming - Seungmin's was the hardest for me to put into words and yet he's the longest because of it! As always, feedback is appreciated! Whether it be a simple like, reblog, or keyboard smash and the most essay-like comment, feel free to share your thoughts. ❣

[booiiee]

cuddle weather | Jeon Wonwoo

wonwoo might be a big boy, but he is a softie who gets all whiny and pathetic. so here goes a self indulgent, whiny woo × reader.

tags: SMUT!! Idol woo × Model reader (female), Wonwoo is a whiny little man, he's pathetic (in love), reader is kinda mean to him, belly bulge (obviously), cuddle weather but no woo for me 😞

￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣

there's two things that fans have absolutely nailed about wonu: he is a big softie, and he is big

wonwoo who is tired of being tired and wants nothing else in the world than to be with you, near you, in you. wonwoo who's been feeling needy and neglected lately with how hectic your schedule's been and how all of his free time is spend missing you cause your schedule is the exact opposite of his and so you two haven't had any chance of cuddling for more than a few hours let alone doing more than cuddling.

wonu knows that if he asks you to call on sick or gives you his soft needy eyes you'd oblige but he knows how important it is for you to be at work this time of the year- fuck fashion week really.

you've been noticing the change in his expressions when you kiss briefly and part, he wants more, so much more and if he looks like that for more than 3 seconds you'd give him what he wants what you desperately want

But ugh! Fuck fashion week.

the last day of fashion week and you want nothing more than to go home and lock yourself and wonu in your bedroom but your body needs sleep or you'll pass out (which isn't so bad with wonu, you think) but you really needed sleep. So when wonu comes back home and find you fast asleep he's happy to know you're getting the rest you need and plants a kiss to your forehead.

Not long after his adoration towards your sleeping face turns into a need to wake you up, or not wake you up at all just get into the covers and then in you.

He tries to fool himself, a kiss on your cheek, on your lips and light caresses on your neck. It's so hard to not throw the covers and have his way with you, specially after the picture you sent him earlier that morning, trying on a black dress (that became the highlight of the season for versace) and you looked so good and he felt so blessed to be the only recipient of that picture. God he was thinking from his dick.

He got into the covers and his warm body may make you feel better on most days but right now his cold feet and super cold hands were annoying you.

"wonu, your hands are cold." You said half asleep.

You feel his hands pull your tshirt up to put his hands where you he needed them, on your chest.

"im sorry love, i just really, really need you" wonwoo whines, there have been few instances of wonu being so needy where he was whining and all of those instances you couldn't walk later.

"i need you to touch me, love please"

You can feel him rutting against you all the while squeezing your chest like he would lose his sanity if he doesn't. His legs had entangled themselves with yours and his face was buried in your neck trying to muffle the moans.

You really wanted to sleep, you did. But sleep had been knocked out the moment wonu's hands found their way to your chest. Now his whines were acting like an aphrodisiac cause you could feel the familiar knot in your stomach and wetness south.

"i am not going to touch you, woo. i am sleepy." you say plainly, almost as if you weren't dying to already.

"i won't stop you, woo. just don't wake me up and be good hmm? you can do that right? take care of yourself and be good?" you were amazed by the way you were talking with so much authority like you wouldn't let him have his way with you right this instant.

"mmhmm i am, I will be good now too" wonu says in his softest tone amidst kissing sucking on your neck and moving his hips ever so slowly into you.

"but if you wake me up, I'll stop you right there. You can do as you please but you cannot wake me up, can you do that woo?" the groan from wonu is clearly audible at the end of your sentence.

"that's not fair!" woo say biting down onto your collarbone as a sign of his frustration. There's no way he can be around you and not wake you up in usual scenarios and to do that when he wants nothing more than to pin you to the bed and fuck you six ways into the week.

"I am sleeping, woo" and you really did want to. If you could be in a hot tub and sleep for a whole day you would, but right now you just wanted to see him whine and groan cause nothing is hotter than the noises he was making.

woo quickly got to work as he slowly took off his hoodie along with the shirt underneath, his bottoms follow after and the way you could feel him, his briefs had been off too. wonu was always into foreplay, even when he was too needy, like right now, he always made sure to kiss every inch of you and inch you closer before he so much as got closer to where he needed.

a series of hickeys on your and shoulder were followed by gentle kisses as wonu slowly slid your shorts off of you.

"how can you ask me to not wake you up when you're just not wearing any panties and this wet for me, you make me insane." his hands had travelled south to where you were wet and waiting for him. you wanted to quit the act and open your eyes, to moan his name and let him devour you like he wanted to, but you knew you wanted him whining more than you did whining for him.

woo took his sweet time exploring your cunt and if it weren't for your "don't wake me up" he would probably be eating you out right now.

lost in what his fingers were doing you didn't realise he was ready to be inside you until he did and god that took your breath away.

"i want you so much, i love you so much," slow but strong thrusts from wonu were followed by many compliments. he was big and you've had him many times but he always surprised you. right now, with him thrusting into you from back, you felt as if he had gotten bigger, somehow. his hands were back on your chest now playing with your nipples as he continued to thrust into you in a slow rhythm, cause he couldn't wake you up.

he was being good like he was asked, for a while he really was, until his hand travelled to your waist and was met with a slight bulge in your belly, the result of his thrust and he groaned as if he had lost whatever sanity he was holding on to. His thrusts now frantic had you waking up and moaning his name which only fueled it all and he started to thrust harder, to feel the bulge that he could not see due to the position.

he was so close, just a few more seconds in the heaven that is you and he could come, maybe even come inside if you allow him. your moans were indication you were too so he let his hands travel to your already sensitive cunt and use your wetness against you. you were coming in seconds and the way you squeezed him sent him over the edge too. He kept thrusting slowly throughout his release, almost as if to prolong it and the aftershocks had you coming twice.

few minutes passed as you both calmed down and woo pulled slowly and apologised when you winced. his face when he saw you leaking however, was unapologetic. you looked his, and he couldn't shake the thought of how much he wanted to do it again.

"don't even think about it" you say half asleep. wonu smiled and kissed your forehead before getting out of bed. aftercare was a must for wonu and although you protested having the sheets changed before you sleep, he had you picked in his arms and onto the couch as he changed the sheets and then after cleaning you gently and dressing you in fresh clothes he laid you on the bed and under covers as you had originally planned.

this time you asked wonu to sleep facing you so you could snuggle into his chest and sleep to the sound of his heartbeat.

"you know, if you wanted to hear me whine and beg, you didn't have to pretend to sleep. I'd do that anyday for you" woo whispered close to your ear.

"i wasn't pretending. it's not my fault you get all needy and pathetic for me sometimes" your cheeks heat up with the blatant lie but your face was hidden in his chest so he wasn't gonna see anyway.

"whatever you say, love" god this man won't let you sleep if he keeps talking like that.

i am tired of seeing dom mean wonwoo everywhere and so i had to write this.

[sariahsue]

Hope

Talk of dating had started as a joke.

Ladybug and Chat Noir were obviously not together, Adrien had said, so what better way to protect their identities than have their civilian personas date each other? Marinette laughed at the idea, and then took him up on it.

That was two weeks ago. Two glorious weeks. Two amazing, torturous, exhilarating weeks. Filled with timid handholding and awkward smiles and even a few kisses, for show.

Well, on Marinette's part it was for show. It killed him to know that the affection she so easily gifted to him was all fake, but Adrien tried to pour his heart into the little pecks that they shared, as he pretended she felt something for him, too.

Tonight, it was their first public appearance as a couple.

He'd been to the Hotel Le Marois only once before, for a wedding reception. This time it was a formal dinner for Fashion Week. The flower arrangements were towering yellows and blues, the outfits were stunning, and Marinette was vibrating with excitement next to him and outshining them all in a dress of her own design. She'd never looked more radiant or more kissable.

Dinner started out great. Marinette was seated to his right, and a teenage model friend of his, Lili, on his left. The three of them chatted through the main course, but during dessert, Lili reached forward and grabbed his hand. Marinette's laughter cut off mid-giggle.

"You okay?" he asked, turning toward her.

Marinette sipped her drink. Lili slid her hand away. Neither of them would look at him. What had he missed?

"Well." Lili stood up abruptly, her fruit cup only half eaten. "I see another friend I need to catch up with. It's been nice talking with you, Adrien."

He turned to watch as she walked away. "What was that about?" he asked Marinette.

She only blushed and shook her head.

---

After dinner, Adrien was a good little gentleman and pulled Marinette's seat out for her as she stood. "Ready to schmooze with a bunch of socialites?"

Marinette latched onto his arm, like she wanted to keep him close. (He could pretend.) "As long as we don't run into Lili again."

"What?" he asked. "What's wrong with her?" She was one of the models he enjoyed working with the most.

She only shrugged one slender (fashionably bare) shoulder. "I don't want to talk to her again. That's all."

"But–"

She cut him off with a glare.

"Okay." He raised his hands in surrender. "I won't make you talk to her again."

They spent the next half hour of the night flitting from one corner of the room to the other. Adrien would get into the rhythm of the conversation, and then someone would smile at him, or touch his arm, or laugh at something he said, and Marinette would pull him away shortly after. It was almost as if…

He shook his head to clear the thought. They were now standing at one side of the room all by themselves, partially hidden by a towering floral arrangement sitting above the equally towering but empty fireplace. He didn't think Marinette was appreciating the decorations though. She seemed to be glaring tiny daggers at anyone who caught her attention. (Though she might have been studying the designs. Her serious face sometimes looked mean. The death grip she had on his arm suggested the first option, though.)

"My Lady," he started. He said it in a joking tone. There was no way she really was... But he wished. And he wanted. "You feeling a little jealous tonight, hm?" She would probably roll her eyes, but she might smile at him, and he could pretend.

Marinette turned her face away, lips pressed in a thin line. Silent.

That- that almost sounded like an admission. Adrien found himself breathing very fast.

"Marinette?"

She turned back just enough for him to see the edge of her bright red cheek. "W-well, you're my date, aren't you? Not theirs?" Her grip on his arm tightened as she continued to ramble. "Maybe I don't want to share your attention. That's all! I thought we were going to hang out together tonight, you know, like hanging out. That's all." She turned her face to the floor at their feet instead and whispered, "That's all."

Adrien stopped pretending. He started hoping.

"Marinette, can I kiss you?"

She tilted her head in confusion. "We're dating," she said. "I told you you didn't need to ask every time."

"No, I mean—"

He moved in front of her so he could block out the distractions of the room and all the curious eyes, and then leaned toward her. Their faces were so close.

"Can I kiss you for real?"

(Based on this)

[your-dearest-sunshine]

Hello! My name is Crystal and I would love to request an application for Emmet with a s/o who is a fashion designer. Emmet deserves more love than he has and I think that having a fashion designer girlfriend, she would take great care of him making sure he doesn't get dirty and clearly she would sew his subway boss coat.

I think they would have a nice dynamic <3

Crystal 💎

Emmet and his Fashion Designer!Reader

omg @crystalofmoon19 tysm for saying this literally just a week after i starting binging Project Runway again lol yes i love this. sorry it took so long lol, i just kinda ran with it :D

//

Emmet first meets you at a photo shoot. Why is he at a photoshoot in the first place? Well it was taking place on the steps of Gear Station and he was there to supervise.

He was told Gear Station was chosen because its entrance gets a lot of unobstructed sunlight. But it was almost twilight and the sun was setting rapidly, so he was a little confused on why that was so important.

Also Elesa is the model in question here, so that was another thing.

Ingo was wrapping things up inside while Emmet made his way to the shoot. There were many more crew members than he expected. There were multiple people on screens, some standing by for makeup fixes, others holding lights, a photographer, and then there was the most commanding voice on set: you.

“Elesa, twist your waist so the dress catches the light better. Good. Better. I need more of a knowing expression–you look like a Deerling in headlights right now.”

You moved beside the photographer, watching Elesa intently as she moved and posed around in a complicated and rigid looking dress.

The dress was designed to look and act like stained glass. It had hundreds of panels and geometric cutouts with glass that was reflecting all the warm colors of the sunset. It looked like art–something celebrities wear to the Shelmet Gala.

“Hello?! Light people? Why aren’t we moving already? We have just minutes before the sun sets to get these shots, let's go! C’mon!”

Emmet was ticked off. How could you be yelling at everyone like this? And nobody was saying anything? Just who were you? You weren’t even the photographer!

The Subway Boss stormed up to you, a large and intimidating smile stuck on his lips. He walks with such purpose and everybody knows he was, in fact, invited here, so nobody stands in his way as he approaches you and places a heavy hand on your shoulder.

“Hello there! I am Emmet. I am hearing you be incredibly rude to the tech crew and Elesa–”

“Oh! Subway Boss Emmet! It’s so nice to finally meet you. I’m glad you could make it to the shoot!”

Your face drops from being serious and your tone of voice sweetens to a much more conversational level. The skin next to your eyes creases with your smile.

Emmet is stunned into silence from the whiplash he just had. 

Suddenly, the sun dips behind the horizon and darkness inks the sky.

At the change, you turn from Emmet and face the crew.

“Alright, it’s showtime people! We’re switching to the night time half of the shoot, everyone to their positions! We’ve only got one shot at this, so if any of you screw up I swear to Arceus you’re going to wish I was only as angry as a Primape.”

There you go again, yelling out orders as loud and clear as Ingo could. Emmet is astounded by the control you have over your voice.

He’s also just as baffled watching you switch from kind to controlling in half a second.

With a flick of your hand, he watches you pull out a Pokéball and release an Aurorus who’s as elegant as they are tall.

In the dark of the Nimbasa night, Aurorus begins to sing. It’s a beautiful song, and it sounds like it’s from long ago, as old as Aurorus itself.

Emmet watches in awe as an aurora brightens into existence over Gear Station, dousing the world in pale greens, purples, and blues.

Soon, the dress Elesa wears harnesses those colors too, the glass-like panels fading from warm to cool. With the light refracting off of the garment, the model looks like she’s been blessed by Cresselia itself.

For a few minutes straight, Emmet doesn’t think the camera stops shuttering or you stop barking orders. But, once the aurora fades, a few seconds of silence wash over the crew.

Suddenly, cheers break out.

Everyone is clapping and smiling brightly, high-fiving each other and trying to catch a glimpse of the photos taken on the camera. 

Your entire crew is full of elation, and you seem to be giving hugs to each and every one of them, thanking them for their amazing work once again. He hears your Aurorus sing alongside their happiness.

But then you turn to Emmet and catch his eyes.

That unbridled glee embroidering your smile makes his heart stop.

You run and jump into his arms, laughing brightly. Emmet catches you easily, despite being startled at your affection. The smile on his face mirrors yours as you squeeze him tightly. 

“Thank you for letting us shoot here, Subway Boss Emmet! I had worked on that dress for over seven months and having it be showcased at Gear Station before being worn at Lumiose City fashion week next month means so much to me.”

As you pull away, Emmet notices you, very blatantly, looking him up and down. You do it so obviously that he’s almost taken aback by it.

“You know, with your height and that smile of yours, you’d be a great catalog model!”

He scoffs in fake disgust.

“Not a runway model?”

“Sorry, but I’ve seen you and your brother move like a well-oiled machine, and that’s a little too stiff for the Torracatwalk.”

As much as Emmet would still like to talk to you, you get pulled away by some others who praise you for your work.

A moment or two later, Elesa, who has been taken out of the dress and is now in more comfortable clothes, skips over to Emmet.

“How’d you like getting a glimpse at my life, Emmet? I hope you weren’t too bored!”

“It was much more stressful than I imagined. It reminded me of the station during rush hour.”

Elesa turns to look at you, who is currently feeding Aurorus some kind of treat and praising it. Emmet follows her gaze.

She tilts her head in your direction, purposely pointing you out after watching your interaction with Emmet from the sidelines.

“They’re a good designer-friend of mine, and they’re really well-known in the fashion world because of their high-risk high-reward looks! That means active shoots bring out a Drednawful side of them, but they always treat the whole crew to a night out afterwards to celebrate!”

Emmet ignores the water-typed pun Elesa made and continues to stare at you and your ornate fossil Pokémon.

You looked so kind in this moment, providing affection to one of your partners. But, Emmet had also just watched you be loud and commanding. You knew what you wanted and you strove for nothing less.

It seemed you liked to succeed in your endeavors more than anything.

“Are they single?”

Elesa gasps.

Both Emmet and Ingo are invited to the party you hosted after the photoshoot, even though Ingo was so busy he didn’t actually see the shoot in action.

While there, it was rumored that you and Emmet both had a little too much to drink, both got a little too tipsy, both flirted a little too much, and both left with plans to go see each other sometime soon.

Again, it was just rumors.

But, said rumors would explain all the dates you shared, all the impromptu battles you had, all the surprise visits you made to Gear Station, all the fashion shows Emmet was invited to, and all of the high-caliber ceremonies and award shows Emmet watched on TV (which he never bothered to watch before meeting you).

Okay, so maybe the rumors were true.

Emmet adored having you as his partner–and he equally loved all the quirks your job brought into your shared lives.

First of all, you were incredibly detail oriented. You had to be, every part of your occupation gets criticized, so you tend to double-check, sometimes even triple-check, everything.

The back of Emmet’s coat is covered in yellow Galvantula fur? Don’t worry, you have a lint-roller at the ready.

His tie looks sloppy? No problem, you know practically every knot in existence.

Durant has been acting sassy all week? Have no fear, you slipped some of its favorite snacks in his pant pockets.

Some idiot stained his favorite white coat with a blue slushie? It’s a non-issue because you replaced the tarnished fabric within an hour or so (and you added a special lining on the inside of it to keep Emmet insulated during the winter, y’know, just because you can).

Emmet tends to rush through things. Not because he’s lazy and wants to finish everything as fast as he can, it’s because he always has something he wants to do. He’s excited about everything.

I mean, the faster he gets ready, the faster he gets to the station and the faster he can battle challengers on the double-line, right?

He used to rely on Ingo to reel him in when necessary, but with you by his side, he feels more confident in his work every day.

Sometimes he still rushes himself, but it’s getting less drastic over time.

However, he never moves too fast to forget to kiss you goodbye.

How could he forget his favorite part of his routine?

Another perk about you: you’re famous.

Sure, both Ingo and Emmet have their fair share of fans. Everyone knows who they are in Nimbasa, and they’re also pretty well known around Unova, but their influence doesn’t reach other regions.

You, on the other hand, are like Elesa. You’re a full blown celebrity.

While you can walk down any street in the world and most people won’t turn their heads, everybody knows your name.

When Champion Diantha attends the Latioscars dressed to the Arcanines in an ornate blue and black gown that references a shiny Mega Gardevoir and says that you designed it, nobody bats an eye.

You’re just that good.

While Emmet doesn’t follow all of the fan accounts of you on Instaryugram (he finds them a little creepy), he does follow your main account that has over two-million followers.

The best part about it all? He knows you have millions of fans, he knows you have thousands of people begging for your time, your attention, and your designs…and guess what?

You picked him.

The Subway Boss beat all of them in the race for your heart.

He won you.

And Arceus knows Emmet loves winning more than anything.

(Well, he might love you just a little bit more…)

// 

guys pls acknowledge how great my pokemon puns are i beg. The Shelmet Gala? Latioscars? Instaryugram? Drednawful? Dressed to the Arcanines? this is comedy gold right here. i am innovation that excites. anyway, hope you liked this, Crystal! thanks for being my first request!! and for anyone else, my request box is open :D

[shewhowantsmouseears]

17Darkwing episode concept script/original song - "I Love The Danger"

After reading both the Ducktales17 Art Book and Episode Guide, it kind of got me in a mood, so I experimented and tried to write the beginnings of a 17Based Darkwing Duck episode, as Morgana’s debut episode, with the Morgana being the absolute perfect one designed by @queenie-draws-stuff . Hope you enjoy.

-

[ Scene opens with pigeons cooing peacefully a branch, a few notes of calm music playing. Suddenly a hard rock chord blares out, startling them, shaking the screen - the birds fly away, cut to Drake, Launchpad, and Gosalyn walking alongside several goth-fashioned teens.]

Drake: Uh, I know I said I wanted to get to know you better, Gosalyn, but when you said you wanted to go to a concert, I kinda expected...

Gosalyn: Some bubblegum pop princess or a boyband where every guy looks the same?

Drake: Kiiiinda? N-Not that I have a problem with... who are they again?

[ The trio are inside the concert hall. The hard rock music is dimming, but still in the background. Noticeably, more than half of the seats remain empty.]

Gosalyn: Morgana and the Ghoulies! They're only the coolest goth rock band ever!

Launchpad: They're the best rock goth band I know! And the only one. Never heard of them until right this second.

Gosalyn: No one has. That's why it's important to be a fan now, so when they do get popular, I can be one of those annoying hipster people saying "I knew them before they were cool!"

[ The trio make their way to their seats. Drake still looks a little concerned about this. Launchpad is blissfully cheerful as always. Gosalyn is practically vibrating with excitement.]

Drake: Well, it does explain why the tickets were so cheap. And why they're playing in the middle of the day. [Again, a cut to just how empty the theater is. Emphasis on how small the audience is. Back to Drake.] I just want to make sure you don't wind up with the wrong kind of role model.

Gosalyn: Would you prefer my role model be a crazy actor from a failed show in the 90s? I could do a lot worse.

[ Drake gives her an annoyed look, and opens his mouth to make a retort, but the lights suddenly go out. There's the sound of a woman laughing evilly, as the camera pans across the concert hall.]

???: Well well well, boys and ghouls! What do we have here in this little ditty of a city called Saint Canard? I hear there's a bunch of weirdos here. A bunch of outsiders. I even hear there's some freak in a cape who fights crime!

[ Camera cut back to the family. Drake is offended.]

Drake: Hey!

Gosalyn: No, it's good! "Freak" is cool now!

Launchpad: Cool is freak?

Gosalyn: No, freak is cool!

Drake: Does that mean lame is good and awesome is bad?

Gosalyn: What - no!

Launchpad: So when the people on the bus saw me eating a three-week old sandwich, they were giving me compliments?

[ Gosalyn looks absolutely exasperated. The voice laughs again, and then the camera cuts to the stage. The other musicians have been there all this time, cloaked in shadow. A spotlight suddenly shines on each of them, one at a time, before shining on lone standing microphone, the laughter continuing all the while. A swarm of bats floods the stage - the camera spins around a figure in the bats, and then they suddenly fly off, there stands Morgana McCawber with her guitar. She flips her hair and then approaches the mike, grabbing it and speaking into it. ]

Morgana: Then it sounds like this is my kinda town!

[ Cut to the family. Background characters are cheering enthusiastically, some throwing up horn-fingers. In this moment, we understand what the initial 'relationship' of Morgana will be with these three : Gosalyn is so excited she is literally leaping up and down in her seat. Launchpad winces, looking rather afraid of everything and everyone. Drake's eyes are wide, and he's slowly smiling in wonder, as cupid's arrow took a pretty good shot.]

Gosalyn: That's her! That's Morgana McCawber!

[ cut back to Morgana. She's surveying the crowd, smirking, possibly in contempt. The first notes of the Darkwing Duck theme song plays before cutting to the opening theme song. Back in the episode proper, it focuses on Morgana's fingers rapidly strumming her guitar. Quick cut to each band-mate and what they play, ending with Morgana taking up the screen as the lyrics start.

Throughout the song, it cuts to Morgana singing and dancing this same song through the backdrops/scenes of classic Disney villains, such as Scar's rocky valley in Be Prepared, the Underworld from Hercules, Gaston’s tavern, etc. ]

Morgana: I'm not your damsel in distress,

I'm here to make a mess,

Gimmie chaos, gimmie rock,

Cause I ain't ever gunna stop!

I don't need your safety, and I don't need your rules,

I look at all these heroes but all I see are fools!

Be prepared for when I play, because you'll be singing all day!

Danger's where I need to be, danger's all of me,

Snuff out the light, don't try to make it right,

Danger is the only place where I can finally be free!

Gimmie the danger, I want the danger, I need the danger,

I love the danger!

[As the next batch of lyrics start, a burly dog-type shoves himself in front of Gosalyn. It keeps cutting back to the song and the family, with Morgana's eyes narrowing as she seems to see what's happening.]

Morgana: If you want to join me then clap your hands high,

Once you listen to my song, there's nothing I can't try -

Gosalyn: Hey!

Dog-Face: Can it, brat! I'm a real fan!

Drake: That's not fair, we paid for these seats!

Gosalyn: Move over, you big jerk!

Morgana: Gimmie everything shiny, hand it over quick,

Before the show is over, you'll never see the trick  -

Dog-Face: Why don't you make me, kid?

Gosalyn: Don't think I won't!

[Gosalyn takes a swing but misses by a mile. Dog-Face grabs Gosalyn by the scurff of her shirt, clearly ready to hurt her. Drake calls out her name, he and Launchpad are immediately out of their seat to try and save her. One more cut to Morgana playing.]

Morgana: If there is someone out there who sees me,

Then you have to believe me,

And only then will I finally be free!

[ Cut to Morgana's fingers on the guitar. She starts playing so rapidly that electric sparks appear, running up and down her arm. The camera follows the lightning as it meets Morgana's eyes, then it shoots out and suddenly flies to the Dog-Face bully, Gosalyn is dropped - The Dog Face is slammed into the back wall, charred black and he slides down with eyes big and white. The electric current suddenly runs a circle around the confused, frightened family, taking out all of the seats. Then it stops, there stands Morgana, who looms down at Gosalyn. Close up of a panicked Gosalyn, who is worried she's somehow ruined the concert.

Cut to Morgana, who smiles after a beat. She then leans in to Gosalyn, singing again.]

Morgana: Danger's where I need to be, danger's all of me!

[ Cut to Gosalyn's face, her eyes literally sparkly. She suddenly runs to be alongside Morgana, the two of them dancing and singing together. The audience circles around them, cheering them on.]

Morgana/Gosalyn: Snuff out the light, don't try to make it right,

Danger is the only place where I can finally be free!

[ Cut to standing Drake and Launchpad. Launchpad still seems a bit nervous, but he relaxes and smiles. Drake's smile is a little goofier than normal, a hand to his heart. Seeing this woman defend and then play with Gosalyn is just shooting more Cupid's arrows. A quick cut to the band - Ghoulia, the cyclops, grumbles in annoyance. The others look equally displeased. Back to the singing and dancing. ]

Morgana/Gosalyn: Danger's where I need to be, danger's all of me,

Snuff out the light, don't try to make it right,

Danger is the only place where I can finally be free!

[ For the final lyrics, Morgana pulls away from Gosalyn. Seeing Launchpad, she pulls off a monster face, with claws, fangs, and forked tongue. He quietly yelps, and then Morgana is normal again, playfully shoving his shoulder. As she passes Drake, she stops to give him a once over, smirks, and drags a finger under his beak as she walks away. He leans in to the touch and falls over when it's over, with Launchpad quickly catching him and springing Drake back to his feet.

Morgana grabs the shoulders of two of the audience members. They give her a boost as she stands on their shoulders, belting out the song.]

Morgana: Gimmie the danger, I want the danger, I need the danger,

I love the danger!

I love the danger!

I LOVE THE DANGER!

[ She laughs manically, and then falls backwards - dissolving into a flurry of bats. One of the bats flies into the screen, and when it flies away we're outside of the concert hall. The doors burst open, and the audience is exiting. Audience members are chatting to one another, Gosalyn is laughing and jumping a bit. Launchpad is normal. Drake is walking in a daze, smiling like an idiot and staring at nothing with half-lidded eyes.]

Gosalyn: KEEN GEAR! That was SO COOL! Didn't I tell you? I can't believe those special effects!

Launchpad: Yeah, a lot of that looked so real. Wasn't that something, Drake?

Drake: [only half-listening, voice a bit dream-like.]  That was... something... all right...

Gosalyn: I've GOT to get Morgana's autograph! Dad, can I borrow your electric razor so I can get my hair just like hers?

Drake: Yeah. Sure. Why not.

[ Drake is clearly in La-La-Land. Launchpad gives him a worried look. The conversation is interrupted by beeping from Gosalyn's watch. She looks down, and gasps.]

Gosalyn: Oh, shoot! I totally forgot about hockey practice! If we don't hoof it now, I'll be late, and Coach will never let me hear the end of it!

[ Gosalyn looks back and forth between one of the concert doors and her watch, clearly pained at having to choose between Morgana's autograph and hockey practice. This seems to snap Drake out of his stupor. He glances over at the door, then smiles at Gosalyn.]

Drake: Well, hey! I've still got time before I have to do my [ arm over his beak, a brief Darkwing pose.] nightly adventuring, [back to normal] so why doesn't Launchpad take you to practice while I get you an autograph?

Gosalyn: [eyes widen, surprised by the offer.]  Really? You mean it?

Drake: Sure I do! We in the entertainment industry know how to talk to each other. It'd be no problem.

Gosalyn: Oh my gosh! [She leaps up into Drake's arms, hugging him around the neck. He makes a little yelp, catching her, having not expected that.] Thanks a million!

[ A pause, as Gosalyn suddenly realizes what she's doing. They both blush and smile - the whole parent/daughter dynamic is still new to them, so this affection is surprising. She has a shy but sincere laugh, and Launchpad picks her up and puts her on his shoulder.]

Launchpad: We'll see you later, Drake! Oh, and we should probably call an ambulance for that guy in the wall. Bye!

[ He and Gosalyn wave off as they exit the scene, Drake waves back. Drake walks up to the door, pauses, then smooths down his shirt, then his head feathers, and then breathes in and out, trying to psyche himself up.]

Drake: I've got this. [a pause, then with more vigor.] I've got this!

[ He puffs out his chest, then opens the door, walking in. The camera doesn't follow him at first, but there's immediately the sound of him crashing into many musical instruments as he yelps. He doesn't got this.]

-end for now

[emaciated-creechur]

About me

Name: Victor

Age: 20

Gender/pronouns: Ftm trans and also a creature you can consider not even human (he/him|it/its)

Orientation: Bi (demisexual/grayromantic)

I'm autistic (probably have ADHD too) and I have DPDR, C-PTSD, a restrictive ED and I'm either haunted by ghosts and evil spirits or have schizophrenia.

Interests: Art and illustration, alt music, fashion and cultures, queer culture, fashion history, animation, biology (specially animals and anatomy), anatomy related to illustration, furries, vulture culture and taxidermy, 3d modeling, doll making and customization, sewing and embroidery, rollerskating

Likes: Bats (the animals), lemurs, cats (or felines in general), reptiles and birds, being warm, nature, sleeping in, tea or coffee depending on my mood, hanging out with friends, diet drinks, cool tinted glasses, wearing whatever clothes I want regardless of whether each outfit is the same style, going on walks while listening to music on my headphones, cinnamon on everything sweet

Dislikes: Being pressured to eat a certain way and/or a certain amount by other people, feeling overwhelmed, being touched by strangers, very cold weather, loud people and environments, too much sunlight/too bright lights/flashing lights, being talked down to/being treated like a child

DNI if you:

Are bigoted in any way shape or form

Don't have an eating disorder or don't self harm

Are younger than 15 (even though I'd prefer if you were 18+)

Think having an ed or shing is a good thing/encourage non disordered people to develop disordered behaviors that could lead to them getting an ed

Stats, goals and rules under the cut

My stats:

Height: 162cm

BMI: 16.7

HW: 49kg (108lbs)

LW: 43.8kg (96.5lbs)

CW: 43.8kg (96.5lbs))

GW1: 45kg (99.2lbs)

GW2: 40kg (88lbs)

GW3: 35kg (77lbs)

UGW: 30kg (66lbs)

Rules and Goals I've set for myself:

I need to lose at least 5kg this month

Exercise for at least 1hr thrice a week before going to sleep

Walk every day for at least 2hrs. Do at least 10k steps regardless of the time it takes. The more steps and longer amount of time it takes the better

Avoid snacks at all costs unless I have to choose between a small snack and a full meal

Purge every time I eat something sweet as soon as possible

Drink at least 1 liter of water every day

Skip every meal I can without arousing suspicion

Once I finally get my scale from the mail and find a good hiding spot, I'll weight myself every Friday

Eat half of every plate no matter how much people insist I should eat more

Start preparing my own foods more often

Read every night before bed. At least 10 pages

If you wanna see me talk about random thoughts that go through my mind, they're under the tag #rambles of an emaciated creature

[believemetheodore]

Picture Perfect pt. 1

Images from this shoot Fic Navigation Page

As a girl, modelling had been something she was more or less pushed into. Catalogues and television commercials quickly filled her portfolio. She hadn’t taken to ballet like her mother had hoped she would, and though she was undeniably a singer, she had no interest in performing. 

Modelling was fun as a child, but she hadn’t found a passion for it until high school. Fashion became essential to her then. She had to get her hands on every fashion magazine she could, asking her parents to order the ones that she couldn’t get at the shop. Clothing, hair, and makeup became synonymous with self-expression, and each modelling gig she booked felt like a step closer to her goal of ending up in a proper editorial. 

By the time she was in college (design and business studies), Rebecca had more experience under her belt than half of the more seasoned girls she was working with. She booked runways at fashion week and found herself signed by one of the UK's most well-known agencies. 

It came naturally to her, standing in front of a camera or strutting down the catwalk. Her focus was admirable and arguably unshakeable. She was polite and bubbly, easy to work with, and she could make any garment look incredible with little direction from photographers and creative directors. 

Fashion had become an escape, and posing and walking in shows became another extension of that. 

She met Rupert the year she booked her first cover shoot. At the time, he’d been a minority owner of one of Britain’s most prominent lifestyle magazines, Nelson Road, and an investor in the management group she was signed with. 

He was undoubtedly charismatic. He was charming and much older, but that was part of the appeal. Rebecca had never had much interest in any of the boys at school, never really had her head turned by boy bands or footballers. Rupert was wealthy and well travelled; he opened her eyes to the opportunities available to her and even encouraged her to seek out new management that would offer her better gigs. He saw her ambition and her goals, and he held them out in front of her. 

She was 26 when they married. He was already 61. Everything seemed so perfect. She had a gorgeous home, a beautiful ring, and a devoted husband. She was making more money and landing jobs for major publications. There were articles about her, comparing her to the models and fashion icons she had idolized. She was featured in adverts for perfumes, and luxury jewellery, her face on television and billboards. 

The first few years were a whirlwind, with both her and Rupert often so busy with work. She enjoyed herself at parties and out with friends, celebrating the success she had worked so hard to achieve.

In hindsight, it happened slowly, then all at once; the way she became disillusioned by Rupert's lies and deception. Her friend from school, “Sassy” Collins, her best mate, had a beautiful baby girl, and Rebecca had felt over the moon taking time to be the best godmother she could be. 

She wanted her own children, and the idea of slowing things down for a while to start a family quickly became a priority. But Rupert had wanted no part in it. He began purposely ensuring she’d be expected to make an appearance with him at a gala, booking holidays, or scheduling date nights so that she wouldn’t be able to see Sassy or little Nora. And when that hadn’t worked, and their conversations circled back to starting a family, he’d begun to tell her she was the reason why. 

Suddenly, his conditional love and his controlling nature were at the forefront of her mind, like a fog being lifted. Marrying him had been a mistake; this wasn’t love; it was a car wreck, yet, she just stood by and watched it all happen.

His multiple affairs hadn’t surprised her, but it hurt more than anything else. She had contorted herself and made sacrifices to be the woman he wanted her to be, endured years of neglect and manipulation only for him to stray anyway? It felt like a cruel trick. After all this time, her feelings and her life had been nothing more than a game to him. He had destroyed her in a way she had convinced herself she’d never let happen, and yet here she was; divorced, heartbroken, and more insecure than she’d ever imagined possible. 

While she had never grown vain over her career, learning to see each compliment on her looks as a part of the job rather than some personal achievement, the way Rupert weaponized her appearance shocked her. Seemingly overnight, her long legs and feminine features had become parts of herself that she wanted to cover up, if only to avoid arguments fueled by his jealousy. As if she could control how others chose to look at her. As if she deserved to feel ashamed for being proud of her appearance. 

Even worse, his praise only ever came in the form of backhanded comments, feeling more like a critique than anything else. He never applauded her intellect or humour, had no interest in her hobbies or accomplishments and had no time for her worries or fears. 

In the end, Rupert had broken down her confidence in such a way that left her questioning the life she had built. She had time away from work, too anxious to have so many eyes on her, second-guessing and over-analyzing every bit of approval that came her way, searching for the insult lurking beneath the surface.

His infidelity and cruelty were one thing, but the theft of her pride could never be forgiven. 

Rebecca resents the vindictive streak Rupert had managed to bring out in her over the course of their divorce settlement. The overwhelming need to destroy him consumes her. She got to keep their London townhouse and all of her own assets, but best of all, she gained control of Rupert's, now majority, stake in Nelson Road.

It gave her something to focus on, to put her energy into, devoting her time to ensuring the magazine was running well and putting her business degree to good use. 

But being back in the world of editorials, albeit for home goods and decor, only made her yearn for the life Rupert had tarnished for her. 

At first, she'd considered trying to tank the magazine but found that despite herself, she had too much compassion for the people around her and too much respect for the business and creative side as well. So, she settled for doing well. Exceedingly well. 

Her name fell back into circulation, news articles and Twitter feeds about her success in the business, and speculation about the state of her modelling hiatus. So much speculation and excitement that she was invited to shoot for a popular designer, Jamie Tartt’s new promotional campaign. 

It had been as refreshing as it was nerve-wracking back in front of the camera after years. But, she had felt at ease by the end of the day, passion restored, confidence growing. 

She looked incredible in the collection's pastel blues, greens and yellows, but the pale pink taffeta dress was her favourite. Her grin was infectious, and her eyes were bright for the entirety of the shoot. 

Everyone, herself included, had been thrilled with the results. Seeing the brightly coloured adverts splashed across Instagram and shared all over social media felt like a victory over Rupert in the most personally satisfying way. 

Balance seemed to have been restored when she received an email from her agent Keeley, informing her of an opportunity to do a shoot for BEX. She couldn’t say no to Britain's premier style editorial, especially not when they had asked for her by name. 

And now, here she is, sitting in a makeup chair once again, smiling bright and cheerful, entirely in her element, chatting away with the hair and makeup artist. Enjoying the moment, relaxing into Isaac and Collin’s easygoing energy, taking time to answer questions about her usual product preferences and routines, and fielding her own questions about Isaac’s hair curling technique and what eyeshadow pallet Collin deemed essential. 

“Looking good, boys!” She’s startled by the sudden introduction American accent,

“Sorry, Ms Welton, where are my manners, hey? It’s a pleasure to meet you. I’m Ted Lasso-- photographer. And this is my assistant photographer, creative god, Beard”. “Lovely to meet you. Please, call me Rebecca”. 

Ted’s enthusiasm catches her off guard. Not that spirited photographers are difficult to come by, but she wouldn’t say that genuine warmth was common. Of course, the largest majority of the people she’s worked with in her career were nothing but kind and professional, but interactions rarely felt personal in such a fast-paced environment.

 But, she’s even more startled by her mind conjuring up the word ‘handsome’ when she first lays eyes on the American man with a mustach. Normally, facial hair like that would immediately give off 70s porn-star vibes, but Ted swerves around that. Maybe it’s the khakis he’s sporting, or his layered button-up and crew-neck combo. He’s put together, from the top of his stupidly-perfectly styled hair to his baby blue Nike trainers. 

She’s not sure she’s ever seen anyone smile so brightly when he speaks again, 

“Well, I’ll let you get back to it! We’ve got a big day ahead of us. My first fashion shoot!” “Your first?” Rebecca can’t stop her shocked stutter. “Very first! But, hey, there’s a first for everything, and I’ve heard you’re the best of the best. It’s gonna be fun!” 

She manages a double thumbs up, endlessly grateful that Collin has taken the opportunity to mention they’ve got to do her lipliner. 

She wants to be able to say that Ted’s open energy calms her, but she finds herself on edge instead. Once burned, twice shy, she’s noticed how she continues to struggle to trust new people. She tries not to be bitter about it. 

She’s standing in her robe, waiting for the stylist, Sam, to bring the first outfit over when the world stops spinning. The one voice in the world that makes her hair stand on end, ringing out through the room. 

“Darling!” Rupert's voice calls out. She swallows but barely gets the words out, “Rupert--what on earth are you doing here?” “One of the greatest models in the world doing a shoot for my magazine?” he wonders. 

“Your magazine? When the hell did that happen?” Rebecca makes no attempt to hide her shock. She can’t tell if Ted’s sudden reappearance is a cause for more panic or relief. “Mr Manion, we weren’t expecting you!”

 Ted greets him as politely as she’s sure he’d greet everyone. 

She does notice the way he places himself somewhere between herself and Rupert. She appreciates the gesture, and she thinks Ted knows that. His eyes are unbelievably soft and steadying when he glances at her. 

“I was just telling Rebecca here I wouldn’t dare to miss a shoot like this”. Rupert's words drip with venom despite their cordiality, “Hope you’re up to the task”.

Ted doesn’t miss a beat, as jaunty in his response as ever, “Well, with Ms Welton posing and the help of all these wonderful folks on set, I’m sure we’ll pull through just fine”. 

“Oh, I believe him,” Rupert says to Rebecca. The tone of condescension she had once upon a time mistook for charm now has bile rising in her throat when he addresses her, “Do you believe him?”

Every moment in his presence feels like another chisel to the resolve she’s managed to build up since their split. She’s ashamed of how he can still make her feel so small. Her focus drifts to Ted, remembering the warmth and compassion he’d been able to offer her in just one look, “Yes, of course, I believe him. It’s going to be a wonderful shoot”.

Rupert nods, calculating his next move when his phone rings. He glances at the caller ID before excusing himself, taking a half step away from the conversation before he stops to say, 

“I meant to tell you, darling; I saw that campaign you did for Tartt. The pink dress was a bold choice,” He chuckles, “Very…youthful”. 

Sam reappears in the nick of time with the garment rack, and Rebecca does her absolute best to ignore the frown on Ted’s face; the curious and concerned expression that he casts her way before he heads over to help Beard pick out the lenses they want to use first. 

She focuses on the task at hand, slipping into the first dress. She adores it. It’s not as colourful as many of her favourites have been in the past, but the layered look of it is stunning and different to what she’s used to wearing in her personal life, and that’s part of the fun. It’s short, only serving to make her long legs appear even longer. The belt cinches her waist in the perfect spot, giving her shape without taking away the structure of the garment. They have her step into bejewelled green heels, and she feels powerful. The blow to her self-esteem that Rupert had delivered, still throbs, painful and impossible to just forget about, but standing tall in her beautiful shoes, she can’t find it in herself to dwell on it.

Rebecca knows her angles. She knows how to sit, and how to stand to elongate her form. She knows when to smile, and when to pout. She moves effortlessly from one pose to the next with little instruction. Still, she’s not used to a photographer so quiet. She’s gone through two outfits and hasn’t heard anything more than, what to her sounds like, non-sensical rambling and commentary between Ted and Beard. It’s like they’re speaking their own language, and she’d be lying if she said she didn’t feel left out. 

She fights back a good-natured bout of laughter, as Ted learns the ins and outs of the fashion industry on the job. Terminology she’s worked with for more than half her life goes right over his head, but he never seems frustrated by it; instead, he takes it in stride. He responds to corrections, and suggestions with grace, and kindness, unabashedly honest about what he does and doesn’t know. 

While Ted may fumble over new words and phrases, or stumble as he grapples with the speed at which the set is changed, and outfits are swapped, he’s steady in his art. There’s a flow that he works with. He’s not afraid to take the camera off the tripod or move around. He crouches and lays down to get the shots he wants. Ted may be a tad quirky, and unconventional in his methods, due to his lack of experience. But, where others may see that as a disadvantage, Rebecca strives to see the positive. Choosing to believe that, to some degree, Ted’s perfect cocktail of ignorance and curiosity gives him the advantage of a unique perspective. He’s a fresh set of eyes, and on this journey of reinvention, Rebecca welcomes the eccentricity of Ted Lasso. 

Her final outfit of the day is an intricate corset top, with black slacks, and classic black pumps. Her hair is down down, brushing her shoulders when she moves. She feels powerful. Free. 

She knows she spent too long admiring herself in the mirror, but front the moment the clasps had all been buttoned, she felt like a million bucks. Her decolletage is not only exposed but on full display. Damn it if she’s not going to be proud of it.

She feels confident, and sexy for the first time in far too long. She’s cheeky and alluring in front of the camera. The right pout, her eyes twinkling. Rebecca Welton is bewitching; there’s no doubt about that. Yet, Ted is taking fewer pictures than before. 

“Look at her! She’s fucking fit!” the holler echoes from the back of the room and instantly had Rebecca doubled over laughing. She notes the camera flash going off. 

“What are you doing here, Keeley?” Rebecca’s question comes through with a disbelieving smile. “I just thought I’d pop by…maybe try to convince you to come get drunk when you’re done?” Keeley only teases in response. “You’re a bad influence on me!” Keeley shrugs, “You taught me well, babes”. 

The shutter sounds again as Rebecca shoots her friend a faux-stern look. Again when she smiles openly and genuinely. 

“Oh! I’m Keeley Jones, by the way,” She addresses Ted, “Rebecca’s manager. And best friend”. “Ted Lasso,” he holds out a hand for Keeley to shake, “We’re almost done here-- I think. I don’t want to keep y’all from your girls' night”. “See, Rebecca, Ted thinks we should go get drunk”. 

“Well, stop bothering him so we can get on with it then!” Rebecca chides, but her unstoppable laughter at his best friend’s antics betrays her seriousness.

The rest of the shoot is decidedly sillier. Keeley yelling prompts and unfiltered flirtations  from her new spot on the sidelines. Rebecca doesn't bother to comment when Ted ends up blushing at some of Keeley’s more graphic word choices. He doesn’t try to get them to act more seriously, he takes photos when he has the right shot, swaps lenses and cameras with Beard’s help when the moment calls for it, and he lets Rebecca enjoy herself.  

“I just wanted to say thank you for today. I was a little bit out of my depths, but I really enjoyed myself,” Ted stops her on her way out of the studio. “Oh! Well, honestly… I was feeling a little bit out of my depths as well today-- with my hiatus, I feel a little out of practice still”. 

She’s shocked by how easily her concerns tumble from her lips. Until recently, she’d hardly been able to acknowledge the fear herself, and now here she is, telling her secrets to a man she’s only just met. 

“Would never have guessed it. You’re a natural”. “Thank you, Ted-- that’s actually lovely to hear,” She doesn’t want to tear up, but she can’t help it. Ted, unsurprisingly, is quick to notice. 

Rebecca dabs her eyes, and Ted waits patiently, if not a little anxiously, knowing that she has more to say.

“Rupert was always telling me that I wouldn’t have much of a career to return to if I waited too long,” she laughs bitterly.

She watches his brows pinch, “why would anyone ever say a thing like that?” “Because he’s an arsehole?” “Well, hey, you’ve done a great job proving him wrong so far”. 

She thanks Ted by pulling him into a hug. A proper hug. He hugs her back just as tight, and she can feel herself relax. She hopes this could be the beginning of some kind of friendship. She’s been so alone for so long, and it’s high time she starts remedying that. When they pull apart, he smiles, “Goodnight, Rebecca”. “Goodnight, Ted,” she nods back. 

[kangjaehee]

the phone

mystictober 3 baby!! better late than never as they say

title: the phone

character(s): MC (who’s an oc), Unknown

rating: general

wc: 1502

tags: prequel, mysme prologue story

The subway car was empty when Min Chaeyoung entered it, still dizzy from the two and a half Aperols. Eunha and Junghoon had offered to accompany her to the Subway, which she thought was extremely nice of them. Their car was parked two blocks away from the station yet they still walked with her, talking, joking.

The evening had been great. She hadn’t seen Eunha in two months, and catching up with her was just what she’s been needing these days, dealing with more orders that she has hours of sleep in a week. Joohyun was nice as well. She quite liked the guy, he was kind and easy to get along with and liked to joke around. She was sure he was treating Eunha well. Seeing them made her miss having a love life just a little.

Okay, maybe more than a little. It had been almost two years since Minhyuk, and she was starting to feel it, just a little. But no one she met was interesting enough. She’s made some good friends on group dates but that’s all they ever were– friends. She wasn’t one to date randomly, try on another person’s love just to see how it fit her; no, Min Chaeyoung was deliberate. Sure, it made things hard, but she didn’t at all hate it.

Her friends usually say she wouldn’t have trouble finding a boyfriend if she didn’t make such a big deal out of it, that she’s” wasting her assets.” Chaeyoung’s response: I’m not wasting, I’m reserving. Giving away one’s heart was a task of tremendous importance. She wouldn’t do it with just anyone.

But she also quite liked herself like this, alone and carefree. She made designs and sold them, completed commissions, read good books, doodled, drank coffee and tea, took care of the occasional fashion brand deal, watched movies, went to exhibits and plays. She’d heard 25 was a solitary age. She’d actually fared quite well in the solitude, she thinks.

Even now, with not a single soul in this subway train, with the only eyes close to her being her own in the window’s reflection, she is at peace. Her life is not perfect, but it’s comfortable, and it’s what she’s always wanted. Even if sometimes lonely, she was happy, satisfied, living the life her thirteen year-old self never thought possible. How hilarious. She won, in the end.

The train stops at a station. No one walks in. Suddenly, she feels sleep beginning to take her over, now going to that phase of drunkenness, so she leans back in the metal armrest, head resting on the window. God, this is really nice. She doesn’t know if she’s ever done this at a subway before. She likes this.

That’s when she sees it. She doesn’t know how she didn’t catch it before. She’s alone in this subway except for one thing: a phone, sitting lonely in a chair across from her, a little bit to the left.

She frowns, confused. Did someone leave their phone in the subway? Did they forget it? Strange that no one has picked it up yet… She would imagine something like that would be soon stolen. She realizes, then, that the phone might not have been there for long, perhaps it was forgotten right before she boarded. And someone will definitely take it later, if she doesn’t do it first, and do the right thing.

She walks over to it, picks it up. My God, whoever left it must be so worried , she thinks. The phone was an old Galaxy model, but it looked new. She imagined the owner of the phone, panicking and calling the subway company or their insurance like crazy. She had to at least help return it. SNS could help. She took a picture of the phone to later post it online. Cases like these are usually solved quickly, as the people announce that they lost their devices for others to help in finding them. It probably wouldn't take her more than a week to do this…

The phone doesn’t have a password lock, she realizes, with the lockscreen (the default phone one) simply saying “Tap to unlock.” Strange. Perhaps the person who left it wasn’t very security-conscious. Perhaps they’re an old man or woman who doesn't know much about electronics. All the more reason why it must be returned.

She then got an idea. It was to do something she knew she shouldn’t. This was someone else’s phone, after all, and she shouldn’t be sneaking around people’s belongings and trespassing their privacy… but this was kind of an extreme situation. It would be easier if she had some info on the owner to be able to return it quicker, she realized, or at least know that whoever claimed the phone was telling the truth.

With that fair reason in mind, she very reluctantly, very hesitantly, unlocked the phone.

She meant to look at messages, SNS profiles, pictures, whatever. There were no messages, and no SNS apps downloaded. The contacts list was empty, there was no profile in the phone itself, and it only had two pictures of a goldie dog. Absolutely nothing to give her any clues of who it belonged to. She was really starting to think it belonged to someone’s grandparent.

It seemed to have all of the stock apps and nothing else, except for one single app she didn’t recognize from the stock list: one simply titled “Messenger.” With her heart racing, she opened it, hoping to find her long-awaited clue. But once again, nothing. It just asked her to register or log in. They must have just downloaded it.

Well, this seemed to be a lost case for now. Deciding to try her luck on social media, she sighed and put the phone in her bag. The subway had arrived at her stop, anyway.

No one claimed the phone.

She was actually shocked that, in three weeks, not a single person had claimed the phone. She posted in every single social she used: daily Outstagram stories, Trips that got over a hundred retrips, Never… she even posted in her abandoned Fakebook profile. That had been the most vaguely successful one. Someone had messaged her saying they lost their phone at the subway too that night, but confirmed the one she had wasn’t theirs once she told them the model. So, it was back to square one.

The phone sat in her bedroom desk for easy access, she’d turned it off to save battery, turning it on every day or two to see if anyone had called the number looking for the phone, or if anything else relevant had happened, but no… nothing. She was thinking of just handing it over to the police, once and for all. She'd tried, and nobly, and no one had come through.

That’s when she remembered the Messenger app.

The only app in the phone that wasn’t a stock app… she wondered why her brain had recalled it all of a sudden. But soon she realized it was because she hadn’t actually seen that app anywhere else.

Granted, Min Chaeoyung wasn’t a tech expert, but she knew more than the average person about social media, it being her primary professional sphere, and she’d had to use a few messenger apps to communicate with clients. KokoaTalk, Tellygram, LIME… She’d never seen the one on the phone. Granted, it could be new. But either way, it was likely not very popular. Which meant that there was a chance– small, but a chance– that one of the app’s users knew the owner. This could be a lead.

She turned on the phone, no new messages or calls, nothing. She opened the mysterious messenger app, and registered with the email she uses for spams. The process was simple: email, password, set username, set profile, and there was a little profile page every user had where they could put a header and a status. She left those blank.

The app was underwhelming, and she had no idea how anything worked. A big bubble in the center read CHATROOM, but when she opened it the only thing it read was “No Chat Rooms In Server.” She wondered, frustrated, if she’d done something wrong. But she had no idea what, so she decided to let it go.

Well, one more lead was lost. She huffed. The lost phone saga was apparently far from over… She would turn the phone in to the police tomorrow, leave it to them to find it.

Or not.

She decided not to turn off the phone today, instead keeping it close, seeing if there were any developments in that strange messenger app.

And she’s made a good call doing that, because that evening, right before the sun began to set, she received a notification from the Messenger app. Her heart began to race. She opened it.

It was from someone called Unknown that had what seemed to be the default profile picture, and it read: “Hello?”

[justsomerandomntmranking]

Cassi Van Den Dungen

Place: Runner Up

Average: 3.8

Cassi seems to get a lot of fanfare due to her amazing post work success and high fashion look. If you ignore the personality (when we get to that) her look was just out of this world. She had a very unique youthful look despite her smoking habits but had issues with her fast metabolism (and would struggle with that post show as well, which I will get to). On the show, she had the complete opposite run to Tahnee where she was a star for the first half before dipping into my bottom spots for the rest before making one of the best shots of the cycle. It was great to see the bogan girl with a shitty attitude model her ass off on set even with no experience because it was amazing to see what she could do. Her first 5 shots (excluding her U by Kotex, which was a disaster) were all stellar. I adored her swimwear, her performance on Trapeze hit the nail right on the money and despite a disappointing photo, Cassi still killed it at the Natural Beauty set and deserved a much better shot chosen for her. Not to mention that her desert is one of the best of the cycle in one of the best photoshoots of the entire series. After her excellent first half though, she seemed to trip on something because after that, she started creating some terrible photos. I will say that she may have been sabotaged in some of these photoshoots with her Tourist set showing that she had a much better performance on set than the photo shown and her Ford having some better shots on frame, however, with the chosen shots given, she became one of the more weaker girls of the group. Her Chantel and Beast Cancer Awareness were very mediocre with her Ford being the worst of the group. She was able to redeem herself with her masterful Ocean shots though so she was able to stabilize in the right time. As a model, I won’t deny her talent, she was clearly a natural born model but as a personality and person (as shown on the show), she came off as immature and rude. Her attitude to a lot of the girls couldn’t be seen as acceptable now and it was tiresome to see Cassi complain and threatening to quit before deciding to stay. Also, the “iconic” moment (?) where she threaten to punch Clare in the shower and calling Eloise and Tahnee fat after they put a bunch of Cassi’s and Mikarla’s cigarette butts into a Mcdonald’s bag on her bed (I don’t even know). I will blame her young age and her upbringing rather than Cassi herself but it got hard to watch when all the girls especially ganged up on Cassi by the end of the competition. Besides her terrible attitude and anger issues (which she was clear and unable to hold back in professional settings like the commercial week), she was one of the worst walkers in the group. She did improve with time but her iconicly saying fuck at the end of the runway in the beginning was funny yet cringeworthy to see. She just flared her limbs all randomly with no direction and walked like she had a limp. Luckily, she did improve by the end and considering how strong she is on runway nowadays, it’s great to see her improve the most out of the cast. I feel like Cassi had it in it to win it, however her lack of desire during the show alongside her crappy attitude turned off the judges and myself included. I wish she just went with the contacts given to her after the show instead of going back with her lowlife boyfriend since I truly feel like she could be more successful than she actually could’ve been. Not to mention how Alex Perry basically shamed her off of runway due to hiring her despite her very unhealthy frame and blaming it all on her even though she had trouble gaining weight. Fucked up in every sense of the word. Cassi is a misunderstood soul by many but clearly young and naive at the time, she’s grown up and has continued to model to this day despite Alex Perry shaming her off and going back to her town instead of traveling the world. I wish she made it international, but who knows?

[boarix]

Epilogue

Trigger Warnings: suggestive content

Please enjoy!

…..

“Should I put on a sweater, grandma? Are you cold?”

“Do you have one, smart guy?”

The trip to Dalton Farm originally was meant to be a honeymoon for Wraith and Hancock, but had turned into something of a family vacation instead. Danse, Curie, Hancock, Shaun, Duncan and Preston had been fishing in the relatively sheltered bay of the settlement for several days in a row, and although it was late spring, the winds off the sea were still brisk.

Shaun had come in to the main house with Hancock in tow to show off the large – and for Wraith unidentifiable – fish he had caught, “All by myself!”

“You should have long sleeves and a hat anyway, young man. You do know you can still get sunburned, right?”

Shaun rolled his eyes came to Wraith and kissed her cheek but then ran out the door to the beach, “Sorry, I can’t hear you; I’m too far away.”

Hancock chuckled and stooped to give her a long, lingering kiss before he followed the child out to the water.

Wraith sighed, “You know he’s getting that sass from you, right?”

MacCready was lounging on an over-stuffed loveseat and had Dogmeat sprawled across his lap. Having no interest in fish – neither in catching or eating – he had spent his time sitting with Wraith, relaxing and reading the stack of books Hancock had given him. When Wraith came over to scold him, he reached up and gently pulled her down to sit next to him. He laughed at her, “No way. He gets it from being a teenager.” He laughed again when she huffed at him, “You know; if they’re all out on the boats all day, there’s plenty of privacy and time for activates in here.” He waggled his eyebrows suggestively.

“Hey, you’re right. There is a ton of fish-smelly laundry to do.”

“Ugh, make Deacon do it. Where’s he been anyway?”  

It had taken months to set to right the damage to the various settlements that Infamy and Radiance had done; partially due to the overall reduction of citizenry.

It also took months to set Wraith to right. Curie and Sturges had to completely rebuild Wraith’s left shoulder again and this time, create an arm that attached to it. Wraith also had permanent scars on her forehead and face where the alien artifact had tried to burn her away from it.

Infamy made good on their promise to return to the Capital Wasteland, and surprisingly, took the rest of the Children of Atom with them.

“Isolde will never recover from this. Even I am changed. Probably not for the better, though. Ha!”      

It had been a year after Radiance’s defeat and the artifact’s destruction before Wraith had finally agreed to have the big wedding Hancock had asked for. Nick Valentine walked Wraith down the aisle, but rather than a traditional wedding dress, she wore a pale ice-blue blouse and cigarette pant suit that Shaun had made her. The Juliet sleeves of which had hand-made buttons modeled after the Minutemen insignia at the wrists. Hancock had set his red coat aside and paired his tricorn with a slate suit that somehow was able to make him look even more rakishly handsome then on an average day.

The reception took place in Sanctuary, was immense, and lasted almost a week. It was also a much needed stress release for the Commonwealth. Wraith had looked for Deacon – she hadn’t seen him for almost a year – but of course, didn’t see him at the party.

A few evenings after, as Wraith was packing for the trip to Far Harbor, she left her house and walked to the warehouse on the north side of the settlement. Focused and moving quickly, she almost missed seeing a light shining through the trees from the general direction of the vault. In typical Wraith fashion she decided to check it out by herself.

Without telling anyone.

A lantern shone in the window of the work trailer just off to the side of elevator to the vault, and she poked her head inside, smiling hopefully, “Deacon, are you in here?”

“Nope, right behind you.”

“Oh, I see the beard is back. Been to the Capital?” Suddenly awkward, she half raised her arms as if she was going to hug him then changed her mind and fussed with her hair instead.

“I see your hair is back. Enjoying retirement?”

“Sort of; I still help Preston from time to time, but nothing too crazy.” Feeling like the silence was stretching on for too long she suddenly blurted, “I got married.”

A smile spread across the spy’s face and he moved forward and wrapped her in a hug, “I know, Pippa. Congratulations.”

Her voice was muffled as she spoke into his shoulder, “Is this hug my only present?”

“It definitely is.”

[networthgo]

🤑 In [year], Bella Hadid Net Worth: $28 Million Bella Hadid Quick Facts Net worth:$28 MillionName:Bella HadidDate of Birth:October 09, 1996Age:[calculate_years datestring="10/09/1996"] Years OldGender:FemaleHeight:5 ft 9 in (175 cm)Nationality:AmericanOccupation:ModelMarital Status:-Children:-Monthly Income:$1,75,000Popular as:American Model. In 2016, she was voted as "Model of the Year", by industry professionals for Models.com. Bella Hadid Biography Here are the some interesting info about Bella Hadid Net Worth, Biography, Family, Siblings, Education, Success, Modelling Career, Awards, etc. Isabella Khair Hadid, better known as Bella Hadid, is a model from the United States. She was named Model of the Year at Model.com's Model of the Year Awards in 2016 and is regarded as one of the most stylish and talented young models in the contemporary fashion scene. Bella Hadid Net Worth in [year], Age, Father, Mother, Husband, Kids, Salary, Earnings, etc. Read the article completely to know more about Bella Hadid Net Worth. Bella Hadid's Net worth is $28 Million. Bella ranked ninth on Forbes' 2017 list of highest-paid models, earning $6 million. After a "busy year posing for more than a dozen brands including Dior makeup, Nike, and Nars cosmetics," the 21-year-old was the youngest person on the list. Bella Hadid Net worth in [year] NameIsabella Khairiah HadidNet Worth [year]$28 MillionMonthly Income & Earnings$1,75,000 +Yearly Earnings$2 MillionIncome SourceModelingLast Updated[pmonth] [year] Some frequently asked questions about Bella Hadid What is Bella Hadid's natural hair Colour?Are Gigi and Bella half-sisters?What ethnicity is Bella Hadid?What was Bella Hadid first job? Early Life Isabella Khair Hadid was born in Los Angeles, California, on October 9, 1996. Her father is a real estate developer, and her mother is a former model. She has two siblings: Anwar, her younger brother, and Gigi, her older sister, who is also a model. Her father's side also gives her two half-sisters. She and her siblings were raised on a ranch in Santa Barbara, California.Despite having dropped out of school due to her modelling career, she has expressed a desire to return to school to study fashion photography. Personal Life She began dating Canadian singer Abel Makkonen Tesfaye, better known as The Weeknd, in 2015. The couple divorced in 2016. Hadid began dating art director Marc Kalman in July 2020. Their romance was revealed on July 8, 2021, during her attendance at Paris Fashion Week and the Cannes Film Festival.In July 2014, she was arrested for driving under the influence. Her driver's license was suspended for a year, and she was also sentenced to six months of probation. FatherMohamed HadidMotherYolanda HadidSiblingsGigi Hadid, Alana Hadid, Marielle Hadid, Anwar HadidSpouse-Children-Relationship StatusMarc KalmanDivorce-AffairsAbel Makkonen Tesfaye Career Bella Hadid began her modelling career at the age of 16 with a Flynn Skye commercial project. She was soon featured in other projects, including Lesa Amoore's 'Swan Sittings' and Holly Copeland's 'Smoking Hot.' In 2013 and 2014, she also worked on campaigns for Chrome Hearts.She signed with IMG Models in August 2014 and walked for Desigual at New York Fashion Week that same year. During the 2015 spring fashion weeks, she walked the runway for Tom Ford in Los Angeles. Later, she walked the runways for Diane von Furstenberg, Tommy Hilfiger, Jeremy Scott, and Marc Jacobs. She also walked the runway for Balmain during Paris Fashion Week. In December 2015, she made her Chanel debut, walking in the luxury label's Métiers d'Art show in Rome for the first time.In December 2014, she appeared on the cover of 'Jalouse Magazine.' She later appeared on the covers of several magazines, including 'Unconditional Magazine,' 'Grey Magazine,' 'V Magazine,' 'Evening Standard,' 'Teen Vogue,' and 'Twin Magazine.' She has also appeared in editorials for publications such as 'Vogue Girl Japan,' 'Harper's Bazaar,' and 'W magazine.

' She also represents Dior Beauty, Bulgari's accessory lines, and TAG Heuer.In 2016, the popular model was named Model of the Year at the Daily Front Row's Fashion Los Angeles Awards and Model of the Year at the GQ Men of the Year Awards. Bella Hadid Assets & Properties Bella paid $6.1 million for a penthouse condo in New York City's Soho neighborhood in November 2019. Bella sold this property for $6.5 million in March 2021. Her sister Gigi owns two condos a few blocks away that cost a total of $10 million. Gigi intends to combine the two units into a single massive unit. Cars & Houses Bella Hadid owns the following vehicles. 1989 2007 Rolls Royce Silver Spirit Convertible - $52,700 Rolls-Royce Phantom Drophead costs $500,000, Bentley Mulsanne costs $320,000, Range Rover Sports costs $150,000, and Porsche Macan costs $70,000. Awards & Achievements 2015 - Models.com Industry Awards - Break Out Star: Women (Reader's Choice) 2016 - Second Annual Fashion Los Angeles Awards - Model of the Year 2016 - GQ Men of the Year Awards - Model of the Year 2016 - British Fashion Awards International - Model of the Year Bella Hadid's Year-wise Net Worth - Last 5 Years Following table is the last 5 years net worth figures of Bella Hadid Bella Hadid Net Worth - Year WiseNet Worth in $Net Worth in [year]$28 MillionNet Worth in 2021$26 MillionNet Worth in 2020$24 MillionNet Worth in 2019$22 MillionNet Worth in 2018$20 Million Bella Hadid Social Media Profile FacebookBella Hadid | FacebookTwitterBella Hadid (@bellahadid) / TwitterInstagramBella 🦋 (@bellahadid) • Instagram photos and videosYouTubeN/A Bella Hadid Brand Endorsements Bella has over 14 endorsement deals, the majority of which are with designer brands like Dior, Marc Jacobs, Maybelline New York, Moschino, Bulgari, Versace, Givenchy, Michael Kors, Evian, BMW, Tommy Hilfiger, Fendi, Miss Sixty, and Alexander Wang. FAQs - Frequently Asked Questions Who is Bella Hadid husband?Hadid began dating art director Marc Kalman in July 2020. Their romance was revealed on July 8, 2021, during her attendance at Paris Fashion Week and the Cannes Film Festival.Why is Bella Hadid famous?Bella Hadid is a supermodel who has appeared in campaigns for brands such as Bulgari and Fendi. Hadid wants to use her celebrity to "change something in the world for the better." She has discussed her mental health issues, her experience with Lyme disease, and the status of Palestinians.What is Bella Hadid diet?Bella Hadid's diet is low in carbohydrates and high in protein, according to her nutritionist, Dr. Charles Passler, to help the stunning model stay fit and lean. "It has enough protein, fat, and non-starchy vegetables."Who is the most beautiful model in the world?According to a study conducted by renowned cosmetic surgeon Julian De Silva, Bella Hadid is the most beautiful woman in the world. Final Words Bella Hadid is one of America's most beautiful and successful models. She is famous for her exotic photoshoots, which helped her become the world's most desirable woman. She quickly rose to prominence and achieved enormous success. However, her career has taken off since 2016. As of [pmonth] [year], Bella Hadid’s net worth is $28 million.

[middleton47middleton]

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[finelinevogue]

he’s so vogue

Description - you are the journalist for the new Harry Styles December Vogue Issue

A/N - how is everyone doing? hope you enjoy! if you have any requests please feel free to ask. love you all and have a lovely rest of the week!

warnings: swearing

[masterlist]

Being a journalist for Vogue was probably the biggest flex you could ever make.

After 3 years of studying English Literature at Surrey University, you never thought, only a year after, you'd be working as an apprentice at Vogue UK. If it weren't for your Aunty, who worked in the fashion design section at Vogue HQ, then you'd no doubt still be a broke-ass, single, lonely student. Ok, lonely you still were but your job was so full-on that you didn't have time for a relationship.

Two years into your apprenticeship you were promoted to an official member of the team, and then another two years later you got promoted to team leader in your department of journalism, and editing; The Media - or as you like to call it - "The Celeb Goss". You were beyond happy with your job and found such passion in every article your wrote. Whether it be about a new celebrity romance or the collapse of one, you found a way to story-tell in such a meditated way that everyone loved your pieces.

That's why the Harry Styles had requested you to be the one to interview him.

Of course you'd written about A-list celebrities in the past, producing articles on pregnancy rumours, or engagements, or breakups, but you'd never met them before authoring an article. You'd met plenty of D-list celebrities who thought they were mega famous, but if you mentioned their names people would turn around and ask "who?".

This is why interviewing Harry Styles was a massive thing for you.

Not very often did you get to do work out in the field, especially in these covid infested days, but nevertheless it was your favourite part of the job. Getting to meet the people you were writing about was completely refreshing, allowing you to obtain a clearer outlook on which direction to take on your journal piece.

You were asked to go to Stonehenge, where the photoshoot was being filmed, as your office of interview. Even though you'd lived in the UK all your life, you'd never actually been to Stonehenge. It wasn't really on your bucket-list, but it was a pleasure to get to see it all the same.

Being the prepared interviewer you were, you'd prepared an array of questions that you were set on asking Harry. You'd never met him before, but after much googling and youtubing of him prior to meeting him today you would already be confident in saying he's the most brilliant man to ever exist. You were really nervous that you were going to screw this interview up and make a terrible mess in front of Harry Styles.

"Lisa! What if I accidentally say something I shouldn't?" You ran your stressed hands through your hair.

This whole morning had been frantic. It had started off by you waking up late, no thanks to Lisa, your best-friend and co-worker, pressing snooze on the alarm. You wanted to look professional today so you'd put on your best shirt - only to spill coffee down it ten minutes later. So now, you smelt of coffee and were wearing what was left in your wardrobe - and it wasn't much. The only things left clean were a pair of pink corduroy flares and some, pastel coloured, graphic t-shirt to go with it.    

"You won't. Stop being so negative." Lisa rolled her eyes, probably fed up with the amount of winging she'd heard from you this morning - and you'd only been awake an hour.

"My outfit is hardly professional either." You huffed, pouring the rest of your, second, coffee down the drain.

"Well I think you look gorgeous." Lisa stated, whilst putting her breakfast bar wrapper in the bin.

You and Lisa were back and forth about you stressing, and such, for about half an hour before you had to leave. You had a great panic about losing your glasses too. You could see without them up close, but for long distance viewing and reading you were practically blind. You were taking Lisa's car, since she didn't think you were emotionally stable enough to drive. Lisa was the creative director on the set, and thank goodness she was so you could at least ramble to someone.

After a two hour drive up from London, you arrived at Stonehenge and it was freezing. Although the sun was out, it did nothing to keep your body heated. The journey up had been nice because you sat in your nicely heated car, chatting away with Lisa and blasting some Harry Styles out of the speaker. You'd made it through the first album, and the second one up to Canyon Moon before reaching your destination.

Upon arriving you could just about, without glasses, make out about 15 other cars, arranged at the bottom of a hill. There was an array of Audis and BMWs, a few Range Rovers, which you placed your bets on one was Harrys, and a green, vintage, Jaguar which was most likely belonging to the fashion editor or something. There was also a modern barn, perched at the foot of the hill, which was where Harry would be getting changed in to his various different outfits.

It took you a moment to register that Lisa had parked and was already clambering out of the car, making you look a little idiotic still blankly staring at the beautiful scenes in front, and around, of you.

But it was still bloody freezing.

You jogged a little to the boot and whipped out your white cardigan. Originally you'd thought that this would've been enough to keep you warm, but now you were starting to think otherwise.

The atmosphere here was amazing. People were rushing around left, right and centre loading, and unloading, various pieces of equipment and clothes. You caught sight of brightly coloured fabrics being carried to and from various places. There were the camera crew, and presumably director, all chatting amongst themselves. The smell of the very fresh air was so lush that you'd forgotten what it smelt like - especially after years in London.

You grabbed your bag from the boot, which had your notes, recording kit and laptop stuffed inside, before locking the car and following Lisa in to the barn.

It was lovely and warm inside - a completely different climate to than the outside. It was as if it was Bali inside and Antarctica outside. Better Bali than Antarctica though.

"Ok. Let's put our stuff down over here and then go find people we need to meet and such." Lisa instructed, you still too in awe of the place to fully comprehend what was going on.

You followed Lisa and you two ended up dropping off your stuff next to some other bags. You took a liking to the purse next to your stuff. Next to your bag, it made yours seem ancient - like it was worth nothing more than a penny. It was luscious and a beautiful baby blue colour. You softly ran your hands over it, finding satisfaction in how smooth and subtle it was.

"Hope you're not planning on stealing that, love." A manly voice appeared from behind you. You whipped around to see who's bag you'd been messing with, and it was just your luck that it was to be Harry Styles'. Of all the people's it could've been it had to be his. 

Perfect.

He looked dashing. He was in black flares and his iconic 'But daddy i love him', t-shirt, along with a huge green anorak. His hair was prettily clipped back with a pink clip, presumably placed there to gave his curls greater volume. In his hand he had a pink toothbrush and you guessed he'd come back over to put it away in his bag - only to find you caressing it instead.

"Oh - no, no. Not at all. I - uh - I just thought it was beautiful." You stammered over your words, choosing them carefully to try and make you look less like an active criminal.

"Mhm." Harry nodded whilst looking you up and down, most likely judging why a peasant like you, in comparison to him, was touching his expensive property. "Well, I love your flares darlin'." Harry looked down at your trousers, his compliment making you blush a little.

"Thank you. That wasn't professional, and neither is my outfit, I know, and I apologise." You added, because you knew that if your boss knew you turned up today the way you did she would give you a right bollocking - and potentially even fire you.

"Never apologise for flares. You look amazing." Gemma perked up, making you feel more self conscious surrounded by all these other beautiful women. Gemma was in a slouchy, knitted, jumper and basic jeans - no doubt all from shops beyond your budget - and yet she looked like a model fit for the runway for Vogue.

"Okay, sorry." You apologised again, to which you, creepily, got the exact same, stern, look from the Styles siblings at the same time.

"My stylist, Harry, introduced me to big pants. He offered whether I wanted to try a pair of flares, and I was like, 'Flares? That's fucking crazy'!" Harry laughed as he told his story, earning a laugh out of you too. "Now they're my favourite item of clothing. Have a whole wardrobe dedicated to them."

"I wish he was joking." Gemma laughed at her brother and his flare obsession.

"Well you do look handsome in them, so I understand why." Your words rolls off your tongue before you could even comprehend what you were saying. Only after you finished your sentence did you completely intake what you'd just said.

"Good start." Lisa giggled to you, before turning to walk over to the coffee station. It was a help-yourself coffee bar and you knew that you were going to bed at least five cups to get over the last five minutes alone. You'd probably drain the station before letting anyone else have any.

"Oh god." You awkwardly mumbled, not daring to see how weirdly Harry would be looking at you, before walking off outside.

You had spent less than 10 minutes here and yet you'd never felt like a bigger clown. Joining the circus had never been so easy.

The outside wind hit you like a powerful leaf blower, and your hair blew around like crazy - most likely compiling into a birds nest on the top of your head.

Today was supposed to be the start of something great. Your hopes were set on a promotion from your written masterpiece, whilst enjoying the company of one of the most handsome, most lovely, most talented men of this century. Those hopes seemed a little too distant now. They seemed to mock you, as if to laugh at how you ever thought you were going to be any more successful. You'd completely, in more ways than one, made a fool of yourself in front of your interviewee, you were so underdressed, you were caught fondling his Gucci purse and you were still bloody cold.

It all felt too unprofessional for a job where professional was practically the driving force of the company.

You leaned against the barn, taking a deep breath to try and calm yourself. You were a master in over-thinking, but unfortunately that wasn't something you could add to your resumé. You let your eyes close and the other senses come alive for a few moments. The sounds of distant sheep and the smell of the cold wind were just two of the senses that allowed you to take a step back for a minute, and breathe.

"Thank you." A voice interrupted you from your attempt of quick meditation. You looked to your left and noticed Harry standing there, still in the same outfit as before.

"I'm sorry?" You asked confused, taking a step away from the barn to considerately pay more attention to him.

"Thank you - for saying I look handsome in flares." He repeated, smirking when he added the second part.

"Oh." Was all you could respond, feeling too embarrassed to take the conversation any further. "I should—" You pointed back to the barn, using it as an excuse to leave before yet screwed up anymore.

"Lisa told me you're the interviewer." Harry added, and it only occurred to you that you'd never actually introduced yourself. "So it's lovely to finally meet you Y/N." He stuck out his hand for your to shake, which you did willingly. His hands were a lot softer than you'd expected.

"Ho... You know my name?" You asked surprised.

"Of course. I also know you're the best writer in Vogue right now." He flattered you, which made you blush. You had a feeling he'd make you do that a lot today.

"Sure." You rolled your eyes as you spoke sarcastically.

"Well I chose you for a reason, didn't I?" He rhetorically asked.

"I mean.. I, well.. I don't know?" You stumbled over your words, making yourself look like a larger fool than you did already. Today was just turning out to be exactly what you didn't want it to be. "Sorry."

"Stop apologising. You do it too often." He told you, nearly making you apologise again but he gave you a jokingly stern look, as if he knew what you were going to say, and so you decided otherwise.

"Harry!" You both turned to see there was a man waving towards you both, but specifically to Harry. "Come get changed!" The same man shouted. Harry lifted his thumbs up, as if to signal he'd be there shortly.

Harry turned back to you and noticed you shiver a little.

"I'll start the interview after I come back from the dressing rooms, yeah?" Harry asked, taking off his, khaki green, trench-coat in the process. He handed it to you before you could oblige against it.

"Wait what?" You confusedly looked down at the coat and back up to Harry.

"Gives me a piece of mind knowing my interviewer isn't going to die of hypothermia before actually interviewing me." He smiled, obviously attempting to crack a joke and you have to admit you did laugh.

"Thank you." You say, before he runs off to where he's being called to.

                                                            ••••

You'd been sat inside for a little while, waiting for Harry to come back. It gave you time to perfect your questions though.

Thinking up questions to ask Harry had been a challenging task, but one that you'd been fully invested in. You loved creating questions to ask him that were going to get to understand him on a deeper level. He was a very private man, and you completely respected that. If you crossed any boundaries, with the questions you'd ask, you would write them out of the interview. You liked to think you hadn't thought up a question that would make him feel uncomfortable though.

Pissing off Harry would be on another level of shame.

"Coat kept you warm?" Harrys voice disengaged you from your notebook.

"Hm?" You asked then replayed what he'd just asked in your mind. "Oh, yes. Thank you very much." You stood up, from where you'd been perched on the floor, picking up your nearly finished green tea as you did so.

Only when you stood up did it come to your realisation that Harry was now in costume. He was dressed in luxury. Each item looked like it cost more than your rent, and that was saddening. He looked rich and luxurious. To be quite honest, you were finding it rather difficult to take your eyes off him.

"You think the outfit is Vogue enough?" Harry asked, striking a few poses, which made you laugh. It was refreshing to see him act so relaxed and carefree, rather than a stuck-up-prick you knew some celebrities to be.

"Completely. I love it!" You exclaimed, appreciating the twirl he did for you.

He was wearing a kilt-like skirt and he looked beyond beautiful in it. Fuck toxic masculinity. Fuck being a manly man - like what does that even mean? Harry was embracing gender fluidity and experimenting the ways in which there was no definitive line between men and women's clothes anymore, and you thought it was marvellous. Revolutionary, for times as politically and socially troubled as these.

You started removing the coat in attempt to give it back to him, but he refrained you from doing so by holding on to your forearm.

"Keep it. I thought we could go outside to start the interview, so you'll be needing that." Harry told you, and you agreed - however reluctantly that was. You couldn't really complain though, because the coat did kept you warm and, what's better, it smelt divine - just like you'd imagine Harry to smell.

"Okay. Thank you. Do you want to go now?" You asked hesitantly, not knowing whether he was busy for someone else right now.

"Whenever you're ready, love." He answered, making you feel more relaxed. He was going at your pace and was making you feel settled - he was even more of a gentleman than people described him to be.

The two of you had walked around the backside of the barn in silence, enjoying the comfort of each other's presence. Well, at least you were. It was a blessing no one was back here. It was just you, Harry and the scenery that surrounded Stonehenge.

You approached a bench and you plopped yourself down on one end, whilst Harry sat on the other. He respected the fact that there was a pandemic going on, and didn't want to make you uncomfortable in any way. You still had your mask on, so Harry had taken that as you were very conscious about the virus - which he admired.

You pulled out your glasses, from the depths of one of the coat pockets, and placed them on your face, probably making yourself look even geekier than you already felt. Today was just one of those days you wished you had good eyes...

You opened your spent notebook, musty pages practically falling apart, and turned to the section of questions you needed for that interview. You were so nervous already and you hadn't even asked anything yet, all because of the previous interactions with Harry today. Your shaky hands shuffled through the pages and you cursed under your breath when you struggled to find what you needed.

"Shoot. Come on." You mumbled quietly under your breath, hoping it would make this terrible situation end faster. You mustn't have been as quiet as you thought though.

"Y/N." Harry's name broke through your clouded mind of self-disappointment.

You looked up at him to see him softly smiling at you, blowing all worries away from you away with the wind. "Yes?" You timidly asked, pushing your wind-swept hair out of glasses - where it'd gotten caught.

"You’re alright, love. You don't have to be professional around me, alright? We're just two strangers having a conversation, to get to know each other, okay?" If his words didn't calm you enough, the soothing sound of his husky voice certainly did.

"But that would mean you asking me stuff too?" You replied, confused at his implications of the phrasing 'getting to know each other'.

"Mhm." Harry nodded his head.

"Oh I don't know Mr Styles, i'm not a very interesting person." You answered as if it were the most obvious thing in the world, pushing your glasses back up the bridge of your nose from where they'd fallen.

"I refuse to believe that." Harry chuckled, making a quick smile appear on your face. "And please call me Harry. Just Harry." He begged, obviously finding it weird you calling him by his professional title. All you wanted, ever, was for your interviewee's to feel comfortable and safe, so if Harry wanted you to call him Harry then so be it.

"Ok, Harry," you sarcastically said, earning a shake of the head on his behalf, "you can ask me a few questions throughout the day." You told him, but you knew he'd struggle to find even two questions when he realises how bland you are.

"Does that mean you only get to ask me a few as well?" Harry smirked, already knowing the answer to that question. Unlike Harry, you had to write an article about today when you got home and so he knew that you'd have to dig as much dirt as possible from him.

"No, sorry. I don't particularly want to lose my job." You paused to look down at your notes, squinting a little as you did to see better. "Okay. Tell me your experience with corona virus."

"Sorry I didn't quite catch that, love." Harry apologised, leaning in slightly to see if he could hear you a second time around.

"Sorry." You looked down to fiddle with your fingers - a habit you'd undertaken when you're embarrassed. "Um..," you cleared your throat, "would you mind if I took off my mask?"

Your timid voice sent tingle down Harrys spine. He didn't think anyone could ever be this sweet. "Not at all, ‘course you can." He replied, again, wanting to make you feel as comfortable as possible.

You hesitantly took off your face mask, feeling like you were in some dramatic movie where they face revealed someone. You kind of liked having the mask on, because, for one, it kept you warm, and for two, you were a little self conscious with how you looked compared to all the other women here today. You shoved the mask in your pocket, with trembling fingers, before looking back down to your notes.

"Woah." You heard Harrys voice being mumbled under the wind. You eyes shot up to his and you noticed him staring right back at you.

"W-what? Is my acne playing up? I knew I should've—" You self-consciously run your hands over the areas you know you got acne. The masks really didn't help when it came to skin care.

"Hey, stop. No. You just... You look beautiful." Harry complimented you, and a roaring blush arose on to your cheeks. You'd never been called beautiful before, and so you were taking the compliment like such a 13-year old.

"Oh, uh, thank you." You awkwardly answered, not really having any other words come to mind in that moment. Harry chuckled under his breath, still keeping eyes on you for some reason.

"Would you mind repeating your last question, I didn't quite catch it?" Harry asked politely.

"Sure. Um, tell me how you've experienced corona virus." You repeated for him, gripping ahold of your pen to start copying what he says and pressing start on your recording device in case you needed it later.

"Well, it's been tedious that's for sure. However, I just want people to be safe and for life to return back to normal, so therefore i've been very MIA for a lot of the time. Keeping to myself mostly. I only went out for hikes or bike rides. All my meetings were online, so it's been very lonely." Harry kept eye contact with your figure the entire time, and if it weren't for you concentrating on writing what he was saying then you'd probably melt away under his gaze.

For such soft eyes he sure was intimidating.

"I presume the loneliness sent you crazy at times." You laughed, because you sure felt that way through lockdown. Curse being single.

"You have no idea." Harry laughed along with you, making you, slowly, feel more at ease.

"Actually, you'd be surprised." You looked at him unsure, before returning down to your notebook.

"Okay then, first question from me," Harrys words made your head shoot up, "How can someone as amazing as yourself be lonely?" He asked and you made a mental tally of how many questions he'd asked.

"Could ask you the very same question, Harry." You slyly replied, avoiding the question by answering with another question. It was a tactic you'd learnt, throughout your years of journalism, when you wanted to dismiss something .

"That's cheating." Harry pointed at you and raised his eyebrows, but you couldn't take your eyes off the big, cheeky, smile perched on his face. You shrugged you're shoulders in defence and returned to your questions. "But you did just call me amazing, so I think i'll let it slide this one time." You blushed, again, when you understood what he meant.

He was amazing though - that was the truth.

"You were in L.A. for the majority of quarantine, am I right to say?" You already knew the answer but your manager had just wanted confirmation.

"Yeah, but L.A. feels like holiday, whereas London feels like home." He answered, which you appreciated. He hasn't got lost in the way that Hollywood could let people. He'd stayed grounded.

"So what did you entertain yourself with during quarantine?" You asked curiously, slightly side-tracking from your pre-written questions - just because you were intrigued (nosey).

"Not much, not to be boring. I ate a lot of bread. I worked out pretty much every day. I wrote quite a bit actually." He used his fingers to pinch his bottom lip, something you'd noticed he did in interviews.

"Does that mean a new album on the way?" Your inner fangirl was screaming at the thought of HS3.

"Can neither confirm nor deny." Harry smirked to himself, like the cheeky bugger he is.

"That's a yes then." You joked, pretending to write it down in your notes.

"You're impossible, you." Harry laughed and shook his head. It made you feel all funny the way you could make him smile like that. You were the source of his happiness for just that moment, and that was enough to make you feel happy for a lifetime - not that he felt the same.

"Next question," you stated, moving swiftly on because you knew you had limited time, "How's your experience with Vogue been so far?"

"Wonderful. Everyone has been so welcoming and that makes it so much easier for me to have fun. It's daunting going at things alone, but i'm getting slowly used to it now." Harry sniffled a little, probably due to the freezing cold weather here.

"Must be strange, not having four best friends around you, all the time, anymore." You stated rather than asked him, sure that he was missing his bandmates. I mean, you were - so he definitely would be.

"Brothers." Harry replied, making you look up at him confused.

"I'm sorry?" You asked, giving him your full attention.

"You said four best friends. Well, actually they're my brothers." His words actually caused a rift in your heart. You could feel it being pulled apart and torn in to two. If you wrote this in to the magazine the fans would have a worldwide passing-away-party.

"Harry." You said softly, slightly tearing up at his words. "God, I swear i'm not normally this emotional." You chest your throat and try to establish your dignity - however there wasn't that much left anymore.

"Oh shut up." Harry looked away obviously trying to hide the fact that he was tearing up too. You laughed at him but didn't draw any more attention to it than you guessed he would've wanted.

"They mean a lot to you then?" You asked, hopefully not treading on any unwanted territories.

"Much more than a lot, yeah." Harry nodded his head, turning it back to face you. He could tell this conversation was now off-the-record because of your closed notebook, your undivided attention towards him and the fact you’d turned off the recording device. He liked being able to look at you, rather than the top of your head. He swore you were the prettiest girl he'd ever seen.

"You still see them often?" 

"Not as often as i'd like. Niall did come around the other week to drop off some old guitars he didn't want anymore, and then we ended up playing around with some music for a bit." He admitted, which stitched your heart back together.

"So does that mean a Narry collab?" You teased, biting your bottom lip in anticipation.

"Narry? You so are a directioner." He laughed along with you.

"And you just avoided my question, therefore there is a song out there written only by you and Niall." You concluded, which shut him up.

This conversation was going a lot better than expected. Certainly a lot better than earlier. You will be permanently scarred by the way you spoke to him and handled his belongings. It was going to haunt you forever - and yet he'd forget about it by tomorrow. Or maybe he wouldn't, which is why you felt the need to apologise.

"Harry?" You asked, clearly indicating this was still a conversation away from the interview.

"Yes Y/N?" He watched you intently, listening to your every word.

"I, um, just wanted to apologise for my behaviour earlier. I was just really nervous to meet you, and to be honest still am. I didn't mean to touch your stuff without your consent and I certainly didn't mean to make you uncomfortable with any of my comments. So, i'm sorry. I can only imagine the awful, yet true, things you must think of me." You rambled really quickly, that you were uncertain whether Harry even caught one word of what you'd says.

"Do you know why I asked for you to interview me Y/N?" Harry asked, which wasn't the first thing you expected him to say after your apology.

"No. I...well Lisa told me it was because I can write well or something." You suggested, not wanting to sound egotistical.

"I mean you do write perfectly, but no." You were intrigued now. "I asked for you because I, and this is not for your magazine, have a secret - but not-so-secret - crush on you." This time it was Harrys turn to blush.

"Harry... you don't have to say that to—"

"I'm not saying it for anything. I sincerely think you are the most delightful, most prettiest, most fucking sweetest person i've ever met." Harry exclaimed, which you were taken aback by. Never, ever, did you think that Harry Styles would proclaim his likeness towards you. Ever.

"Harry don't mess with me, please." You shyly spoke, tilting your head down in disbelief that the Harry Styles was smitten about you.

He shuffled along the bench, stopping a little way from you but close enough to reach out for you. Your heartbeat increased when you noticed his hand move closer towards you. It didn't stop till he reached your face. He took his time, courteously, pushing your hair behind your ear before removing you of your glasses. He held the right-eye frame and slowly pulled the glasses off your face.

Once he'd successfully taken them off he folded them up and placed them alongside your closed notebook.

"Can see those pretty eyes now." He whispered quietly, but loud enough for you to hear.

"Don't lie. They're so dull." You mumbled, lifting your head up slightly. His face was still away from you.

"Not to me they're not." He retaliated, looking deep into your eyes as you did his. "I hate this corona virus."

"Why?" His words were so out of the blue sometimes, it gave you whiplash.

"Because I can't be as near to you as I want to be." Harry told you. And yeah, you hated corona too. It was getting a little laborious now.

"Smooth, Styles." You chuckled. You wondered how many new and weird pick-up lines could be made from covid. 

"I know." He winked, which honestly would have made you throw up if it were any other man on the planet. Somehow, though, Harry just made it seem attractive - along with every other thing that man ever did. "After this, would you like to come back to my house for a cuppa tea?" He asked sweetly, like a five year old asking whether you wanted to play together.

"Okay. Lisa was my ride though." You said more to yourself than anything else, debating on how you'd even get to Harrys. Uber? Taxi? Lisa? Walk?

"I'll drive us, it's fine. I have to drop Gem off, but i'd be more than happy to chauffeur you." Harry kindly offered, to which you were internally screaming about. You were literally, and metaphorically, having a field-day with all this Harry content and interview.

"Are you sure? I don't want to be a burden." You question politely, not wanting to overstep any boundaries - especially in these covid infested times.

"Of course. I wouldn't have offered otherwise." He protested, waving his hand at if to say it was no bother. You were already trying to work out, in your head, how much petrol money you were going to owe him.

"Then i'd be honoured to have a brew with you Harry." You giggled at how cringe you were being, even if this was just your normal self speaking.

"Great." Harry genuinely smiled, teeth and all. "My shoot should take a couple of hours, but feel free to continue to write and journal. I'm looking forward to reading this particular article." He winked at you before standing up.

"Wonder why?" You sarcastically asked, knowing full-well it was due to his exposure of his own feelings towards you. Even though you'd never says anything back you were quite in agreement on how you felt about him, like he did you. He would be a narcissist to say he knew you liked him the same, out loud, but he knew. And you knew that he knew.

"Wonder why indeed." He gave you one last smile before he'd disappeared for the rest of the afternoon, leaving you to digest and relive the past half an hour or so.

Being Harry Styles' crush was probably the biggest flex you could ever make.

                                                          ••••

After Harry had finished up his shoot he was quick to come find you again.

You'd watched parts of his shoot and he looked magnificent. There wasn't a good enough word to describe how amazing he looked. Harry, his stylist, was probably the best stylist out there. His fashion choices were unmatched and you wanted him to be yours. You were not rich enough nor fashionable enough, ironic for working in a a fashion company, to hire a stylist, but you would if you could.

You were so proud to see what he was achieving now as the person that he was. Harry was just being Harry, without the devilish control of shitty managements or ridiculous amounts of PR stunts. Harry was more free than ever, and it definitely showed just how much he was enjoying it.

You were certain that this Vogue magazine would break the internet - his fans were good at doing that. This could be a turning point for many people, with their outdated and ignorant views. There was no room for people with racist or homophobic or transphobic or xenophobic - and the list does go on - views anymore.

You were waiting by the front door of the barn, to catch Harry as he walked past. You caught sight of him in a white robe, presumably to get changed back into his everyday clothes. He looked really pretty in the robe - very domestic actually.

Today had been a good day.

Harry asked you to send over the more specific Vogue questions to him via email, so he could devote more time in to answering them in a lot more depth. You thought he meant you'd be sending them to some PA in his team, but you were shocked to understand he'd given you his personal email.

People were walking back to their cars and packing away the filming kit. You saw Lisa and the director talking to one another, no doubt discussing some in-work gossip.

"You ready?" Harrys voice reminded you that you'd been waiting for him. You looked to see he was back in the same clothes as this morning, only this time without his coat.

"Here?" You offered, having him over the coat once again but he declined.

"Looks better on you anyways." He winked at you, before walking through the car park and to his car. You were very surprised when you found out Harry was the one to own the green Jaguar. You assumed all celebrities drove the Range Rover, but no. The vintage car added to Harrys immaculate vibe and just made him that little bit more hot.

Harry properly introduced you to Gemma, who was equally as lovely as Harry. They were both amazing people and they were crazily alike. From the way they looked, down to the way they phrased their words, they were mistakingly twins. Gemma explained how Anne, their mum, didn't know they were doing this photoshoot and that it was going to be a surprise, which you thought was so cute.

Gemma spilt a lot of gossip on Harry, to which he got very embarrassed over. You learnt that Harrys first word was Cat. You learnt that Harry is godfather to multiple children, which you found heartwarming. You learnt Harry used to be a baker - which was something he elaborated on for a good half an hour. Harry was just a fountain of memories and Gemma was the one sharing them all with you.

The drive back to London was relaxed. You sat in the back, listening to Harry and Gemma pointlessly argue whilst an Arctic Monkeys album played in the background. You forgot that people like Harry drove, and listened to music, just like other regular people. You often misplaced celebrities in society, thinking they had everything done for them but in reality that (often) wasn't the case - at least not for Harry.

Gemma was dropped off quickly before Harry drove to his. It was no surprise that the Styles siblings didn't live too far away from each other. Harrys house was beautiful. Bigger than anything you could ever dream of buying. It was a palace compared to your cupboard-sized house. You were unbelievably jealous. He gave you the tour of the house, showing you where the toilets were, and even his panic room if necessary.

You migrated to the kitchen for a bit, talking about anything and everything. Getting to know the minuscule pieces of information that no-one else was trusted with, made you feel special. Harry made you feel special - even if he weren't meaning to.

Every moment held a spark. Every touch set off a firework. Every laugh was an electric burst. He made you feel so alive.

"We can go to the living room after this has boiled." Harry said, pointing towards the streaming kettle. He wanted to show off his fancy tea collection he had, and let you have a try if you wanted to. Harry was boring and chose the basic green tea, but, after much deliberation, you chose the cranberry green tea. It intrigued you and it sounded delicious.

"Why the extensive tea collection?" Not even you, a certified caffeine addict, had this much tea in your house. Coffee was a different story and one in which you didn't want to talk about.

"They help me with my meditation." He took the teabags and placed them in his glass mugs. They had a delicate Gucci stamp on them, and you just imagined that they probably worth the same amount as your daily salary.

"You meditate?" You were slightly surprised that he did.

"I try to yeah." Harry nodded, focusing on pouring in the boiling water into the mugs. "I've got very tight hamstrings and so it helps if I meditate twice a day."

Harry finished making the tea, in the light-filled kitchen, before showing you around to the open-lounge area. Everything was modern and chic. It was exactly how you imagined it, but better. The open, red-brick, wall was a beautiful feature and one that you were a whore for! It reminded you of New York and the memories you'd made there one summer.

The sofa was a beautiful velvet, green, sofa. It was soft and gentle, a lot like Harry when you thought about it. The whole house was an architectural masterpiece and you'd be lying if you said you weren't jealous. You sat on one end and Harry went to go and sit on the other end.

"I don't bite you know?" You joked, self-consciously wondering whether he didn't want to be sat near you.

"I know, I just don't want to step on any of your covid boundaries - which is perfectly fine by the way." He added, apprehensively taking the spot next to you.

"No, not at all." You ushered him to sit next to you, as you took a sip from your steaming hot cup of fruity tea. "If I smell though, do tell me!"

"Yeah, you smell bloody awful!" Harry sarcastically remarked, but laughing afterwards to assure you he was joking. The atmosphere went quiet for a minute, only the sounds of passing cars and deep breaths being heard.

"Y/N can I ask you something?" Harry turned the tone of the conversation. It sounded like he wanted to be more serious than you two were being beforehand.

"Anything." You encouraged him to continue. You placed the cup of tea down on the table, deciding it was too hot to drink right now, and gave him your full attention.

"Do you believe in love at first sight?" Harry questioned. You didn't think you'd be having a conversation this intense - especially if you had different opinions - on your first day of knowing each other, but here you were.

"I believe you can love someone at first sight. I don't believe you can be in love with someone at first sight. Why?" You were curious as to how his brain had journeyed to this particular topic. You'd never really had this conversation with anyone before, mainly because you were unaware of the true power, and meaning, of love.

"It uh... It doesn't matter." Harry shook his head and you could tell by his body language that he was shutting you out. Maybe you'd made him uncomfortable.

"Sorry I didn't mean to—"

"No, no. Please don't apologise. It's just - I like you a lot more than you may think." Harry shyly told you, which made you all soft inside. He was being vulnerable and that was something you admired in a partner. You didn't just need love, affection and trust in a relationship. No. You needed vulnerability and heartbreak too, and Harry was revealing that part of him to you.

"I like you a lot more than you think too." You repeated, not because you felt bad for him but because you truly did like him a whole lot. Love was a weird yet wonderful thing, and if you were to hazard a guess you'd say you loved Harry. 

You couldn't wait to be in love with him.

"Does that mean I get to crown you my girlfriend?" Harry excitedly asked. Harry happy was something that should be made a constant, and you were more than happy to be in control of that.

"At least take me out first." You bargained, wishing for nothing more than to go on a date with Harry. Where you'd go, you had no idea. Everything was closed right now and there was still the chance of becoming sick with corona, but no doubt Harry would think of something not only clever, but special.

Of course you'd love to be Harrys girlfriend. However, you wanted one more, official, opportunity to really get to know him - unprofessionally. You wanted to make sure that you knew, and he knew, that you wanted to be with him because he was the charming Harry you've come to love, not because he was Harry Styles.

"So you're allowing me to take you on a date?" Harry smirked like a little child, your heart fluttering at how excited he was to be able to treat you to dinner.

"Yes, Harry. Yes I am." You answered sweetly, offering him the cutest smile you could.

You can't believe what a turn of events today has been. You've gone from nearly writing yourself on Harrys enemy list to writing yourself on to his 'people he's dated' list. Who knows what the future would offer you. At the start of the day you had wished this whole day to end and for the ground to just swallow you up, now you never wanted it to end. It was too perfect to be true and yet it was.

Harry was the most wonderful human to exist and you were beyond surprised to be the one to catch his attention. You didn't understand why you were so special, but it was nice to feel like this for a change. It was nice to feel wanted.

                                                             ••••

A few months later and you were officially Harrys girlfriend.

It had been such a crazy few months. Harry religiously took you out on dates every week. Whether it be to grab a hotdog at a local diner, a coffee from a quaint cafe, a walk in Hyde Park or a late-night drive around London - which normally ended up with you falling asleep before you could make it back to yours. On sleepless jet-lagged nights he'll still drive through London's quiet streets, seeing neighborhoods in a new way, just as an excuse to spend time with you.

Harry often stayed over at yours. Even though you looked like you lived in a shoebox compared to Harry, he liked it. He liked the subtly and normality of it all. He wanted your life to remain as normal as possible and, apart from the occasional paparazzi incident, it did. You never had anything to complain about. Of course the online bullying created emotional wounds, at the start of your relationship, but it was nothing that Harry couldn't repair with a bit of love.

Lisa has nominated herself to be maid-of-honour when the day comes - if the day comes. Harry has already pinky sworn that you are it for him. The one, as some may say. You were utterly flattered, but you certainly unsure of what the future help for you both.

You loved Harry, you do love Harry and you will forever always love Harry.

It was ridiculous to think that all this stemmed from you working at Vogue. From you studying English Literature in a city away from London. From you dedicating you extra hours gaining work experience and money to be able get in and afford university. So many moments in life have you stopped and said 'i wish i hadn't have done that', but now you were convinced that they were the best things to have happened to you - because they lead you, all, to Harry.

And, being Harry Styles girlfriend was probably the biggest flex you could ever make.