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moonchildstyles · 1 year

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élan part two: harry was too observant. y/n worried he could see the cracks in her walls.

wourdcount: 12.8k+

—————

Fran🫧

send me a pic of your nails when ur done!!!!

After answering with an agreeable response, (Y/N) flicked to an email from her stylist. Details were being rehashed over what she wanted to wear to the 132 Gala coming in the next few weeks, Dom again trying to push her in the direction of a darker outfit while she gravitated towards her usual palette of softer hues. Outside the window, glimmering buildings swept by with too many cars on the street and too many people, not paying attention, trying to cross the pavement.

Harry was a silent wall beside her, quiet and stiff. Just like usual. This was the first she'd seen him since the pilates incident. Though he was in a substantially better mood than that last meeting, even giving her a slight smile when she climbed into the SUV beside him, (Y/N) still heard the round of reprimanding he doled out for her.

She'd happily take Harry over her father, though. Now that, for the first time ever, he'd followed through on a threat (i.e. getting a bodyguard for her), there was a level of worry tied to any contact involving her dad. But, he hadn't called at all this week—not even a passive-aggressive text sent her way. When she had texted him that she finally RSVP'd to the upcoming Gala like he'd been hounding her to do just a week prior, he'd left her on read. While she much rather preferred this limited contact, she had a brewing worry that something worse was in the works if he was willing to ignore whatever information Harry had relayed or anything he'd read in the press.

But, she'd take what she could get. Focusing on the Gala with prepping and planning was something she'd happily let take her attention, even if the whole bodyguard/handler/professional babysitter thing was going to be hard to ignore given that Harry would have to accompany her to any and all events surrounding the event.

Though there was one thing her mother did instill in her before she divorced her husband and began jaunting around the world with (Y/N) left at home: Nothing could ruin a good nail appointment. Not even the presence of a bodyguard was an exception to that rule as far as (Y/N) was concerned.

"Thank you, Sully," she chirped, stepping out of the SUV with a wave over her shoulder. Harry predictably followed right after her, the soles of his shoes patting against the concrete. "You don't have to come with me, if you don't want," she told him, stopping him before he could close the door behind and prompt Sully to leave, "It's kind of a long appointment, so if you wanted Sully to take you to get something to eat or whatever, I'm sure he'd be okay with that."

While she couldn't imagine Harry taking her up on the offer, at least not after the clear line he made earlier in the week, she still felt it was something she should give as an option. Nail appointments weren't very exciting if you weren’t the one in the chair.

"No, thank you," Harry answered without a lag, closing the door behind him with a slam. He didn't even look at her as he spoke.

Turning on her heel, (Y/N) took in a deep breath and moved on. Stepping through the front door held a moment of deja vu with the way Harry trailed behind her silently. The women manning the front gave her the same curious looks as the waitstaff at the brunch shop though they all treated her with more familiarity after coming to her regular appointments for almost two years now.

"Hi! Welcome in, (Y/N)!" the same blonde woman that always greeted her said, her eyes floating above her shoulder to find Harry, "How are you?"

The shining smile that earned her a top spot in the rumor mill bloomed on (Y/N)'s lips, "I'm doing perfect, thank you! You?"

"Same as always," she chirped back, the same answer she always gave despite never detailing what the same even entailed. "You're in with Carlotta this morning, right?"

"I am," (Y/N) beamed, stopping at the front podium with her designer purse hanging from the crook of her elbow.

"She'll be right with you," the girl started, pointing in the direction of Carlotta's usual station over her shoulder, "You can take a seat at her station while you wait."

"Got it, thank you," (Y/N) said, voice ever-pleasant and rehearsed.

Taking the first step towards her chair, she saw the way the eyes of the other woman reached around and spotted Harry. He'd been seen at her side enough times to be recognizable to the right people, unfortunately. "Are we checking in for two appointments today or do we just have a friend tagging along?"

"Just a friend," (Y/N) answered quickly. Hopefully the word friend would work through the media circuits just as well as everything else being said.

Taking her seat at her usual station, (Y/N) made herself at home with a cross of her legs and her purse hanging from the hook drilled into the table. Harry pulled a vacant seat to sit beside her, taking the outermost side to leave her bookended by the wall and his body. Protector instincts, she figured.

It wasn't long for him to begin to squirm, a fidget to his fingers.

"Sorry," she whispered to him, pulling her phone from her bag to find the photo she was using for inspiration.

A pinch appeared in Harry's brows. "What do you mean?"

Keeping her voice low, she left her attention on her phone while she spoke, "I know it takes a bit to get used to knowing people are watching you, so..."

It wasn't a surprise to feel others' eyes on her though it had been a while since her presence was notable to the staff here at her nail shop. The addition of a friend at her side was surely something that was garnering her more attention than usual, but Harry clearly wasn't used to it with the way he couldn't settle where he sat. While she was sure there were times that Camila and Monroe, his previous employers, were photographed with eyes on them, she couldn't imagine it was at the same level as she was currently going through.

He'd get used to it. Maybe.

Shrugging his shoulders, Harry swept his gaze around the room. "It's a little different, but I can handle it."

She didn't doubt that. She couldn't imagine there was much Harry couldn't handle.

Soon enough, Carlotta came out from the back with a fresh pair of pink gloves on, her usual smile, and big bouncy hair.

"Good morning, honey! How are you?" she asked, brown eyes glimmering in the bright sunlight streaming through the sweeping windows. (Y/N) saw the second she seemed to register the extra guest at her side.

"I'm good, thank you," (Y/N) greeted, stretching her hands out for Carlotta to have a look once she took her seat across. "How are you?"

"Good," Carlotta sang, prying her eyes away from Harry to glance at (Y/N)'s nails, "What are we thinking for this set?"

As much as (Y/N) was sure Carlotta wanted to ask about Harry, and why he was the first extra to ever come with her to an appointment like this, she kept her focus. She listened as (Y/N) went through and showed her the simple inspiration photos she had in mind from grazing through instagram. Glossy nudes with a sparkling French tip was the request at the moment, something easy before the elaborate set she would be getting right before the Gala night.

The appointment went on as normal, Carlotta keeping her conversation to (Y/N) and the rapport they've built over the years. She was sure her tech was waiting for her to bring Harry into the flow, but (Y/N) didn't deviate from the route they'd already embarked on. Besides, Harry was much too involved in his brain and his job to be answering any kind of questions Carlotta may have wanted to ask.

Despite Harry's perfect patrolling and the perfect distraction Carlotta was being, it wasn't long after she had started filing and shaping (Y/N)'s acrylics that there were titters and hushed whispers to be heard across the studio. Harry stiffened beside her, his jaw hardening as he scoped out the sound.

Peeking around him, she saw a group of teenaged girls giggling around a single station as if they were waiting for their own tech to arrive. Two of them had eyes on her while the third was looking at her phone that had the camera conveniently facing towards where she and Harry were sat. The second they realized they were caught, the trio clammed up and looked away, phone disappearing under the lip of the table. Rushed whispers were exchanged between them though none of them dared to return her gaze.

While (Y/N) was used to the treatment, something inside her ticked. It was another set of photos taken without her consent that would build towards another narrative that was anything but true. She was more than accustomed to that, this week had been enough already. More photos of herself was the last thing she wanted.

Nonetheless, there was no way she could react other than with a smile and brushing off the moment. Still, she won't be called "kind" or "warm", she'll be called stiff. At least it wasn't "bitch", though.

When the girls caught her smiling, they gave her a small wave before erupting into more giggles in their corner of the studio. Harry barely held back his scoff as he watched the scene.

Carlotta had gone quiet the second (Y/N)'s attention had shifted. They both saw as Harry shot a stiff look towards the girls, even when they were too caught up in themselves and whatever was going on in their phones to notice.

"Sorry," (Y/N) whispered, leaning towards Harry. She was hyper aware of Carlotta's quiet presence, but she couldn't forgo addressing the moment with the way Harry was reacting. "They'll be over it soon, it's okay."

Harry only shook his head.

She wished she knew what was going on in his head. She wanted to know what he thought of that moment, what he collected from the way she reacted, or how much he was beginning to regret taking this job now that so many eyes scrutinized him.

"Do you like this, or were you thinking a little bit sharper on the edges?"

Carlotta's question pulled (Y/N)'s attention back to her nails, right where it needed to be.

—————

"I'll be right back," Harry murmured, standing from his spot as he scoped out the bathroom.

(Y/N) sent him off with a quiet okay, her attention placed on the sweeps of the small brush going across her nails.

"So," Carlotta nonchalantly mused, her gaze stuck on her work, "you know I don't believe everything I read, but I have to ask... Is that the guy?" Guiding (Y/N)'s hands under the lamp, Carlotta flicked her gaze up to look at her client through the fan of her dark lashes.

With her back stiffening and lips thinning, (Y/N) didn't know what to say. Despite the conspiratorial smile on Carlotta's face, (Y/N) didn't feel like she was in on the joke. Her nail tech was one of the closest people to her in a funny way (nail appointments sometimes felt like therapy after a long week, and too many times had (Y/N) shown up hungover beyond repair), so it cracked at her shell just a bit to know that random stories could wriggle into the mind of someone who actually knew her.

Shaking her head, (Y/N) gave her a mild smile. "It's not like that." She paused before offering up the rest of the story. "He's my new security actually."

"Like a bodyguard?" Carlotta bubbled, taken aback as she paused in her line work of the French tip she was making. She seemed to mull over the possibility before nodding her head some. "I guess the stories have gotten a little out of hand, recently."

"Yeah," (Y/N) offered lamely, "He'll at least make it sound a little bit more intimidating when I need photographers to get out of my way when I'm trying to get to my car."

Swallowing around her dry throat, (Y/N) suddenly found it hard to speak about it all. Other than Francesca, most people didn't want to hear about how "hard" her life was; it was a joke, as if there was no way she could have anything negative happening. While in many ways that was true—she had a home, income that she never had to worry about, and the kind of time to indulge in herself that she knew many others didn't—but that didn't negate the fact that there were unique challenges in her life that wore on her. She hated to think about Carlotta listening to this and talking to her coworkers later about her spoiled client.

Lighthearted as always, Carlotta's features lit up with a smile as she guided her hand in for the final round of drying. "I'm sure he will with those shoulders."

Just in time, Harry returned with the conversation quieting then. Only a round or so more of drying with her hands under the lamp was needed before Carlotta was doing her ending spiel of how best to take care of the acrylics despite the fact (Y/N) was a longtime client with some of the best retention she'd ever seen (at least that's what Carlotta told her).

"I love them!" she bubbled to her tech, standing up from her spot with her hands spread out to catch the clean lines of the French and crisp edges in the shaping. "Thank you so much."

"Of course," Carlotta said, rounding her station to offer (Y/N) a loose hug, "I'll see you soon for your Gala nails, right?"

"Right—hopefully, I'll have an idea ready then." A round of pleasant, albeit a bit forced laughter sounded between them.

Goodbyes were shared before Carlotta went about cleaning up her station and (Y/N) and Harry were silently heading up to pay for the service. Only, (Y/N) was stopped with a rushed call of her name, the voice high-pitched and jittery.

Stopping where she stood, Harry beside her ready to step in at a moment's notice, she turned to see that trio of girls, their own nails glimmering with paint and artificial length. They all looked at her with hopeful eyes and flushed cheeks. They were young—as young as (Y/N) was when she started traipsing around town by herself. She hoped they were being careful and looking out for one another.

"Yes?" she pleasantly chirped, lashes fluttering in a quick blink.

One of them dared to shuffle forward in her Prada sandals, sparkling iPhone clutched in her hand. "Can we get a picture with you?"

Without a second thought, (Y/N) answered with an "Of course! What are your guys' names?"

High on her attention, they flushed and giggled, hands shaking as they took turns to introduce themselves. The one with the phone in her hand—Izzy—was the ringleader it seemed, the most fearless of the trio though she seems just as incredulous to the fact (Y/N) was actually speaking to them.

"You're, like, my favorite person on Instagram, bestie," Izzy chattered off, too-white smile beaming, "My parents hate that I follow you, but I don't care—I think your outfits are cute, and I can't wait until I'm old enough to dress like that without them telling me no."

While the girls laughed and giggled, getting into position for the photo, (Y/N) tried to play along with a bubbling smile. It was more than uncomfortable to hear that these girls' families hated her, as well as hear about how much they couldn't wait to wear the same ensembles as she. At least, they were being nice.

Honestly, (Y/N) hadn't even thought that the outfits she posed in were something that should be reprimanded. She dressed in a way that made her feel pretty. She hadn't thought that the summer dresses she'd favored these last three months would be a subject of debate in households she didn't even know existed.

Suddenly the off-the-shoulder bodysuit and pair of high waisted jeans she was wearing weren't enough. She wished she had pulled on a sweater despite the heat outside.

Nonetheless, (Y/N) just laughed along, playing the part long enough to keep them happy before retreating for the day. Taking the offered phone, she turned towards Harry with it stretched out towards him.

"Will you take a picture of us, Harry?" she asked, acknowledging him for the first time since he grew stiff when the girls had initially spotted them.

"Sure," he answered gruffly, his gaze on her intense as usual though there was more curiosity than scrutiny this time around.

The girls posed around her, arms around her waist and beaming smiles directed at the camera. Harry tapped the screen a couple of times while the girls giggled at her sides. The breakaway was seamless afterwards, Harry passing back the borrowed phone and (Y/N) slipping away from where she was swaddled between them.

"It was so nice to meet you guys," she beamed, "But, we really need to head out. I'm sorry!"

"Totally fine, thank you," Izzy spoke for them, bouncing on the balls of her feet, "Maybe we'll see you at our next appointment."

"Maybe," (Y/N) laughed just before offering a wave as a final goodbye.

Her smile stayed stiff on her cheeks as they walked away, though the girls must not have gauged their volume very well with the way she could hear them clearly over the growing distance.

"That's her new boyfriend, Sydney! The one that she left Damien before, remember? He's the one in those pics from the other day," Izzy chattered off, much too loud to be appropriate in a place that would be considered a spa. And, because the subject of her gossip was within hearing range.

It was an interesting thing to be a few teenaged girls' favorite villain. Even with the way they seemed to like her, they still would believe that she'd lie and cheat and fight like that.

Harry was a solid, silent pillar beside her. He was a brick wall following wherever she went, only giving out a curl of his lips when he was acknowledged and he knew it was polite to do so. He stayed quiet up until he was escorting her through the plaza to meet up with Sully.

"Do y'ever get used to that?" he asked, voice just a hair louder than the click of her heels over the bricks under her feet.

"Hm?" she sounded, paying a little too much extra attention to the photo she was trying to take of her nails to send to Francesca.

"Having people watch you all the time and take photos of you. Do you ever get used to that?" he detailed, casting his eyes around to where Sully could be waiting along the curb.

Shrugging, (Y/N) tossed her phone into her purse. "I mean, kind of? It's been happening since I was in high school, but it's definitely been a little different lately just with... everything being posted about me and all." A beat passed once Harry spotted their car, the route changing as she followed after him. "I think I get it on the easier side, though, compared to others. At least people aren't attacking me or anything, right?"

Harry's lips thinned at her words, jaw tight. "Right."

Definitely the wrong thing to have said.

Replaying her words with Harry's icy reaction, (Y/N) wanted to cringe. Why did she even say that? Of course he wouldn't think that was funny or even lighthearted when his entire job was to keep her out of harm's way.

For a split second, she wanted to tell him about the letters and the photos she received. She wanted him to know that she knew that facet of her existence was serious—that she took his job seriously. But, that topic was more than off limits—something that would no doubt end in a phone call from her father and a one-way ticket to a Swedish cabin with no internet or link to the outside world for a minimum of six months.

(Y/N) followed Harry to the SUV, silent as ever as there was no way to really recover from her slip. He held the door for her to slide inside before he came in next to her.

Sully, the perfect breath of fresh air, twisted in his seat when they filed in. A broad smile could be seen under his moustache. "Let me see," he told (Y/N) offering a hand out for her.

Happy to show off her nails, she gave her hand to him. "They're a different shape than normal, but I thought they would look nice with the French tip."

"They're amazing," he smiled at her, the same response he always gave her when coming back from a nail appointment. "My daughter is going to want some just like that when she sees them on her phone."

Settling back into her seat, (Y/N) smiled. "Let me know, and I can set up an appointment for her and everything. She'll just need to take care of them."

"I'll tell her you said that," he told her before twisting back to face forward in his seat, "Anywhere else for the day?"

From the corner of her eye, she could see Harry observing the moment. Just like usual.

She could go and start some prep for her Gala night outfit, take a look at Vivienne Westwood and Dior, but the idea of Harry being her only companion after her misplaced joke wasn't something she had much interest in. She, at least, needed Francesca for something like that.

"Just home today, Sully. Thank you."

Sitting in the back of the SUV, bench seat shared with Harry, (Y/N) felt exposed. She just hoped she was making the right moves under those watchful eyes.

—————

Heaving a sigh, (Y/N) listened to Francesca with her phone pressed to her ear, her gaze cast across the New York skyline.

"I'm sorry," Fran pouted through the line, (Y/N) practically able to hear the flutter of her lash extensions through the receiver. "If I had known, I wouldn't have promised I could make it."

"It's okay, it's not your fault," (Y/N) soothed, chewing her bottom lip, "I can move my fittings to later in the afternoon, maybe? Would that work?"

"You know how my mom gets when she comes into the city," Francesca sighed, sounding exhausted before the day had even started, "Her and her husband are back on that thing about me being a gallery owner, so you know they're planning on taking all day to make me realize how much of a dream it is for me—I just don't know it yet."

(Y/N) couldn't help the itty, bitty smile that touched the corner of her lips. How silly the two of them were; Francesca's worst problem is her mother wanting to gift a gallery to her, while (Y/N) squirmed at the thought of having a personal security guard follow her to keep her safe.

Nonetheless, she did feel her heart deflate a bit knowing that her best friend wouldn't be accompanying her to something they both loved doing. As a bonus, Francesca would have also been acting like a buffer between she and Harry. Now she was going to be left with him sitting and brooding in the corner with his criticizing gaze while she twisted and turned in a multitude of mirrors.

"I'm sorry, (Y/N)," Francesca said again.

"It's okay, don't worry, okay?" (Y/N) repeated, hearing the sounds of the city from her free ear as the morning rush began and wouldn't stop until late at night. "Tell them I said hi, and I'll send you pictures of my favorites. Maybe we can still do our alterations together if everything matches up?"

"Yes, definitely! I'll see you tomorrow night and we can talk about it more then."

"See you tomorrow," (Y/N) settled, sinking into her lounger, "Love you."

"Love you, too, bestie!"

With that, (Y/N) pulled the phone from her ear and ended the call. Out on her balcony, the morning chill touched at the bare slashes of skin revealed by the open, crochet knit of her cardigan. Despite growing up with a fear of heights, sitting up in the balcony of her high-rise apartment, it was easy for (Y/N) to luxuriate in the thin air and clear out her brain for even a moment.

She was going to get through today. Even if she is photographed today, if she receives an intrusive letter, if another story is spun dragging her name through the rain and mud, she was going to make it through. Besides, she loved going to Fifth Ave; the fashion houses were her second home in the city. She couldn't back out on them now, not when her stylist pulled rank and ensured she would have a private fitting at Vivienne Westwood and a tour across an archive of Dior jewelry just for her.

(Y/N) was just going to have to trust the opinion of sales people who worked on commission and were too scared to look her in the eye half the time. To be fair, they hadn't steered her wrong just yet, even if they never really looked at the way the garments fit her, just because that would require a longer than a single second glance at her.

Taking in a deep breath, (Y/N) reminded herself: she was going to get through today.

A buzz in her hand alerted her, taking her from the skyline and back to her phone.

Sully👑

I'm here and ready whenever you are.

At least she would get to see Sully this morning. It was always a good day when he was there to ground her.

Trekking through the building, (Y/N) gave her usual smile to the uninterested doormen and avoided eye contact with the man who was tapping away aimlessly on his phone, another person waiting to be buzzed up, she was sure.

Peering through the glass doors, she saw the SUV on the curb, Sully having made his way to sit just outside the entrance. He was stationed outside the car, his hand poised on the door handle to help her in. Even with the deep tint on the windows, she was sure Harry was waiting inside. A silhouette with too nice of a profile to be wasted on a security detail.

Sully's features softened into a grin when he saw her step outside of her building, his usual all black attire just as immaculately pressed as always. "Good morning, Ms. (Y/N)," he greeted, hand on the door to pull it open for her.

"Morning, Sully," (Y/N) reciprocated, the long form of her cardigan fluttering behind her.

Just as she suspected, Harry was waiting patiently on the bench seat of the SUV when Sully pulled the door open. He didn't look up as she slipped inside, crossing her legs once the seatbelt was secured across her form.

"Good morning, Harry," she murmured in the quiet of the leather interior.

Glancing up at her from where he had been tapping away on his phone, Harry took her in in a brief sweep over her form. He brought his knuckle up to his nose, brushing underneath the tip. "Good morning."

The sound of Sully's door slamming shut brought (Y/N)'s attention forward from where she was stuck on the flickering green of Harry's eyes. "Now to Ms. Francesca's apartment?"

"No, actually," (Y/N) clarified, shifting in her seat, "Franny's mom is coming into the city today so she had to cancel."

"Oh no," Sully genuinely pouted at her through the rearview mirror, eyes meeting hers, "I'm sorry, (Y/N). Straight to Fifth Ave, then?"

"Yes, that's perfect," (Y/N) chirped, feeling Harry's gaze on her through the interaction, never once did the shift to Sully. "Vivienne first, please. Dior after."

"Got it."

Pulling away from the curb, Sully was the expert driver he always was, slipping them seamlessly into the traffic without so much as a jostle over the pavement. Cars were slow moving at this time in the morning, but she knew he would make quick work of the distance.

"Jus' us today?" Harry piped up, his voice a low gravel that had (Y/N) pulling her gaze on her nails to land on him.

Swallowing, she nodded. "Yeah. If you don't want to sit through all the dress stuff, though, I'm sure Sully can take you elsewhere while I'm busy. I can just let you know when I'm ready to move to the next spot."

No hesitation before he spoke again: "No, thank you. I'll be staying with you."

She didn't expect any other answer if she was being honest, but it was the polite thing to ask.

With no room to argue, (Y/N) fell silent, leaving just the sound of distant car honks and the light radio melodies playing. The route to the Vivienne Westwood location on Fifth Ave was a familiar one, even with the traffic and swerving drivers it didn't seem so long from where (Y/N) sat. She gazed out the tinted windows, the world looking just a little bit blue. People in too high of heels to be walking on the crumbling sidewalks with brand name shopping bags tucked under their arms were blurs beside her as Sully toured them through the city,

The car slowed when the storefront came into view, the elegant font of Vivienne's name bold over the crystal windows.

Sully sent them off after helping (Y/N) onto the concrete, promising to return as soon as he received word that she was ready to move on. Harry was her silent shadow as she stepped over the sidewalk like a runway. The mannequins in the windows were corseted and perfect, standing on thick platforms with sparkling jewelry. An effortless smile stretched across her lips as she pushed the door open, the brassy golden handle warm under her palm from the New York heat.

Her heels were muffled as she stepped over the eccentric carpet. (Y/N) swore she could breathe just a bit easier in here. Many of the shops along this Avenue were the closest thing to being at home, especially when she was growing up and itching to do anything but be at home with her parents. She had an abundance of nice memories tied to these stores and brands; summers spent with Francesca and a credit card, impromptu fashion shows with pieces that wouldn't go together on a runway. While there were more than a couple of workers that became annoyed with them after only a few minutes of the duo walking into the shops, these places were the easiest escape.

Sweeping her gaze across the shop, she took in the elaborately dressed mannequins and clean shelving. Everything was lit up on display, highlighting the contrasting colors and the punk-inspired pieces that gave Ms. Westwood her name. Racks and displays were scattered throughout, leading the walkways like a twirling river of black and white streaks. (Y/N) gravitated towards the racks with the signature structured corsets of the Westwood brand, draping fabrics and glimmering pearls.

The entire space was quiet, her stylist—Dom—having made his calls and ensured the space would be free of any other shoppers while (Y/N) was getting her fitting done. (He was a little paranoid when it came to others leaking looks and style choices when it came to events like this Gala. It had happened once a few years earlier with a different client, and he seemed to have never forgotten). That left the entire morning free for (Y/N) to try on all of the imported pieces they had picked from the archives and Harry to brood around her like a temperamental potted plant.

It didn't take long for a familiar head of coiffed blonde hair to appear around the corner of a jewelry case. A too-white, too-straight, too-perfect smile was plastered across his face—the kind of smile (Y/N) was halfway sure was fake, but that was just commission-based customer service.

"Will!" (Y/N) greeted with a matching smile, breaking the ice as she turned on her heel to face him fully.

"(Y/N)! How are you, my love?" Will bubbled, posh accent wrapping around her name. He was adorned in his usual all black suit, velvet accents lined throughout. The length of the flared pants made him look that much taller, long limbs strong. The classic Vivienne Westwood pendant had been refashioned into a broach he pinned to his lapel, chains falling from around the Saturn that glimmered like the gunmetal manicure on his fingers. Something shimmery rained over his eyelids, just punk enough to fit Vivienne but high class enough to please those that guarded Fifth Ave like a dragon's treasure.

When Will approached her, hands delicately held out with his lips puckered, she didn't hesitate to turn her cheek and indulge in the air kisses he always made a fuss about. Though it made her cringe, like one of those girls she knew in private school that spent the summer abroad and suddenly started speaking in an accent and bringing up their travels at any given moment, she enthusiastically partook in the greeting.

Best behavior was required in shops like this, the associates tending to be some of the worst gossips and best storytellings in the city. If she was anything but perfect, with the way the media was already latched onto her, it wouldn't take much convincing for someone like Will to sell a story to any publication.

"I'm doing so well now! I was hoping I'd be paired with you for my appointment."

He waved her off with an incredulous face. "Well, of course they'd pick me. They only give you the best, hunny!"

A round of laughter erupted between them, something that sounded just as fake as it felt in her throat. Harry was notably quiet, watching everything unfold. He didn't bother to try and step in to introduce himself, observing as always.

"Come, come," Will gestured, inching towards the grand fitting room plotted in the back of the shop, "All of these gorgeous archive pieces made it in last night, just for you! I shouldn't be surprised, you and Dom have such wonderful taste, but I just love to see it, really."

Will chattered to her as he escorted them through, bubbling about how excited he was to show her the garments as well as see them on her. While she knew a portion of his personality was a customer service front, he was one of her favorites here. He was more positive than uppity, unlike most of the other sales people she'd run into during her time perusing this street.

Making it to the large fitting room in the back, (Y/N) immediately spotted the white garment bags hanging from the single stall. It was a large room that could have easily fit in stall after stall, but instead was used as a luxury space for only a single patron. Plush carpeting was installed under their feet, black lightning bolts breaking up the creamy white. A shimmering chandelier hung above the circular dais situated in front of the three-sectioned mirror on the far end of the room, crystals dripping from the wrought iron branches almost low enough to graze the head of the person standing on the dais. Cozy chairs were pushed throughout, the space anticipating guests, along with the tray of champagne glasses and a chilled bottle awaiting serving.

Finding a pause in the chattering, (Y/N) asked, "Are any of the girls helping today, or is it just us?"

"Just us!" Will chirped, carefully uncorking the bottle of frosty champagne, "Dom made it especially clear that he didn't want anyone unnecessary to be here; he said he wanted to make sure no one could leak anything."

"Sounds like Dom," (Y/N) sighed with an affectionate smile, dropping her purse onto one of the houndstooth printed armchairs.

Harry found his own chair silently, sinking into the cushioning though he didn't seem to relax much at all. His gaze stayed alert, looking around the entire space—probably looking for any cracks as if a supervillain could swing through the drywall and take her captive. Or, anything (Y/N) could damage should she finally snap in his presence.

She wondered what he thought, not three weeks into the job without a single tantrum that she knew her father had prepared him for. Hopefully she was showing she wasn't as much of a problem as her father was convinced.

Shrugging out of her cardigan, (Y/N) caught the way Will eyed Harry. He swept his gaze over, analyzing the same way Harry analyzed everything else.

"But, I see you brought a friend," he tittered, looking at her with that sly gaze. Harry didn't even flinch at the first acknowledgment of his presence.

Keeping her demeanor perky and bright, (Y/N) made a point to look confident—but not too proud. She didn't want to look like she was showing off a significant other, so she couldn't smile too much, but she still had to smile just enough not to look shy or smitten. She didn't want to give Will any reason to describe her as being "bashful, over the moon for her new man".

"Yes, that's Harry," she gestured to him, Harry barely offered a small smile when he took a second to look in their direction, "He's my bodyguard"

"Bodyguard?" Will asked, blonde brow raised in an arch.

Sighing, (Y/N) politely took the offered glass of bubbling champagne from Will's hand. "You know how it goes sometimes," she started, sipping delicately from the flute for a chance to pause, "Photographers have been a little crazy lately, so I figured I might need a little extra help."

"Oh I'm sure," Will bubbled, looking at her with a furrowed brow feigning concern, "With everything that's happened with Damien, I bet those paparazzi can't get enough of you."

He eyed her the same way he eyed Harry, as if there were details he could glean from her with just a glance. He was hoping she would spill, give him something to whisper over.

Shrugging it off as nonchalantly as possible, she took another careful sip of her champagne. "Anything for a photo, you know," she said, rolling her eyes as if being hounded for personal information and photos of intimate moments was nothing more than an inconvenience. "But!" she perked up, popping her hip with a spark to her voice, "I want to see what Dom picked out for us!"

Hooked by her excitement, Will caught the giddy way she talked and reacted with his own enthusiasm. "Okay, okay, sit down and close your eyes," he instructed, waving her back into her spot, "Because, you are going to freak."

Doing as asked, (Y/N) settled into her seat with her eyes fluttering closed. She could hear Will padding away, leaving her with just Harry though if she hadn't already known he was there, she would have assumed the complete silence meant she was alone. She couldn't imagine being so quiet all the time, alert and scrutinizing. She wished she knew what was going on in his brain.

The zip of garment bags and rustling of fabric drew closer as the time ticked on another minute. With the way her heart peaked, her giddiness was no longer an act. This is the stuff that made these events worth it for her; she loved playing dress up as a girl, and this was just the same but even prettier, in her mind. She could pretend to be a real princess this way.

"Okay"—a pause for dramatic effect—"open," Will said, a smile clear in his voice.

Blinking her eyes open, (Y/N) saw the flash of pearl pink laid hanging in front of her. Will held the padded hanger up for her to take in the entire gown, his free arm behind the skirt to help put it on display under the light. The fabric looked like liquid pearl, tinted in a pastel, cool pink that glimmered with a golden sheen in the light. It shifted before her eyes, showing shades of silver and purple, metallic and pearl. A blend of everything pretty in the world, (Y/N) decided. The top was the signature corset that she loved from the Westwood designs, the neckline featuring a deep scoop to show off her chest, structured and tight. The skirt was a length that would drag behind (Y/N) as she walked, draping down from the corset with a thigh high slit up the side. The sleeves to hold it up were nothing but a three-tiered string of pearls, each loop bigger than the last to rest lower and lower on her arms when she put it on.

While there was a small collection of garment bags hanging up behind Will, (Y/N) couldn't imagine looking at another gown after this. It was too beautiful—the perfect personification of her thoughts that she had jumbled together to Dom during a late night FaceTime. She couldn't have ever imagined her scattered thoughts coming together enough for him to know exactly what dress from the Westwood archive to request for her.

But, this was exactly it.

She almost felt as though she needed to wait, to make sure it didn't just melt off of the hanger and drip onto the floor. She wanted to ensure it was real before she became too excited.

"Dom picked a couple from the archive and a few from the most recent runway, but this is my favorite," Will told her, his tone conspiratorial like he was sharing a secret just for her, "I think it would look gorgeous with your coloring, too. And, I know you're a pearl girl, so."

Standing from her seat, she abandoned her glass of champagne on the side table. She was sure her eyes were too wide on her face, taking in all of the gown as if it would disappear if she blinked too long.

"Are you kidding?!" she bubbled, "I love this! I almost don't want to see the others, I love this so much."

Will shook his head immediately. "No, no, no, we're playing Barbie today, you're still trying on the others. But, I'm happy we're on the same page with this one."

In a split second, (Y/N) saw something flourish in Will's eyes. The corner of his lips quirked up, too sly of a curl to be innocent. He turned towards Harry, showing off the dress just as grandly as he did for her.

"What do you think, Harry? This would look gorgeous on her, don't you think?"

Harry, the master of nonchalance and being chronically unbothered, barely batted an eye when Will caught his attention. If not for the fact (Y/N) knew who he was and what his job entailed, she would have thought he was one of those people from Williamsburg, where it was cool to be uncaring. Fortunately, she knew he genuinely couldn't care less about what was going on in this fitting room as long as (Y/N) wasn't being assaulted or causing property damage.

His eyes fell over the gown, sweeping over the details in that scrutinizing way he always looked at his surroundings. "It looks nice, yeah. I don't know much about this kind of stuff, but 'm sure it would look nice on her."

A beat passed. Will waited for more, waited for his digging expedition to come up with results. Harry only blinked.

"Okay, well!" Will moved on, smile a touch stiff. He turned towards (Y/N) with those same bright eyes. "Let's get you all tied up into this, and then we'll see for sure."

(Y/N) eagerly allowed Will to usher her through the door to the changing stall, eyes flitting to the dress as soon as she could spot it in the mirror. He didn't waste a second before he started chattering to her about some drama that apparently happened when the garments were dropped off the night before, trivial things that were embellished for the sake of getting her to laugh. (Y/N) wanted to say she listened intently, enjoying the way he prattled on and told the story as if it were a myth, but she honestly couldn't spread her attention between him and the dress that was beginning to swath around her body.

Her day clothes were dropped to the floor at her feet, leaving her in undergarments before Will helped her into the dress, the corset stiff with the boning straightening out her spine. The beginnings of the look came together before her eyes, the fabric forming around her body the tighter the corset was zipped. The skirt seemed to be dripping off of her body the way it moved under the light, molten and sticky. With the slit opening up as high as her hip, the pearl glimmer stood out against her skin. Will helped her push the straps of her bra down, sliding them into the sides of the corset to make it look that much more real.

Times like these were the only moments (Y/N) felt as if she could be photographed—wanted to be spotted. She loved dressing up, she loved feeling pretty in her skin, she loved these kinds of special moments. It never got old to her, feeling the glide of silky fabrics on her skin, the glimmer against her skin tone, looking like the princesses she used to idolize when she was a kid.

Twisting and twirling in the mirror, (Y/N) could feel the smile curling on her lips.

"Well, what did I tell you?!" Will beamed, standing back in the mirror to meet her eyes in the glass, "Better than the runway, my love!"

"You're so sweet," she told him, a pout on her lips as she matched his eyes in the mirror, "Thank you."

"Let's go look in the big mirror, see it from all the angles," Will prompted, reaching his hand out to help her step off the circular, raised platform in the dressing room.

(Y/N) followed him through the door, letting him take her to the three panel mirror at the head of the room. He held the skirt for her as she stepped onto the platform, her feet chilled through her socks once she was steady. He fanned the gown around her, the split showing off the stretch of her bare thigh. She stood tall with her posture corrected with the corset, but the confident tip of her chin had everything to do with the way she felt in the dress.

Running her hands over the fabric, she followed the ripples in the pearl with her eyes. Seeing herself like this, she didn't care what her dad had to say about her, the tabloids, or the rumors. She liked what she saw in the mirror, and that was enough.

"Do a spin, look at the back," Will instructed, hands clasped together with his own smile beaming on his features. When (Y/N) did as much, showing off the deep dip in the back that showcased the planes of her back and the seamless lines of the corset, his smile only widened. "Classic Vivienne," he murmured, impressed as if it were his own work, "What are you thinking for your hair?"

Using her hands to loosely emulate the idea she currently had in her head, (Y/N) craned her neck as she looked in the mirror. "I'm not sure yet, but I think Dom had something vintage in mind. Big and drape-y to show off the dress, but I haven't talked to my hair stylist yet."

"Jewelry?" Will asked, circling around her as if appraising a diamond.

(Y/N) launched into a description of what she and her stylist were thinking, imagining the Dior pieces glimmering against her skin and the way her hair would tickle her collarbone when she turned her head. She could already see the set of pearly nails that were going to be on her fingers, the tiny bag that she was planning on hanging from her elbow the whole night. Her bare feet shifted to be sheathed in the perfect pair of Manolo's she knew Dom was going to insist she wear to go along with the gown.

Everything came together with each twist and turn of her body in the mirror, pearls and crystals sparkling in her mind.

Will chatted away to her, telling her something about how the skirt could be altered to lower the slit (something she was not interested in doing, honestly) and how glimmering crystals could be added here and there. She offered him a bubbly smile in the mirror, nodding along, though she might have been a little too absorbed with the way she felt in the gown to be paying any real attention.

In the mirror, with a twist to show off the back once more, (Y/N) caught sight of Harry. Just as usual, he looked at her with those ever-observant eyes. Even from the distance he was sitting away in the long room, she knew he was watching everything.

This time, though, he sat with his elbows crossed over his knees, leaning forward as if he couldn't see enough. A furrow of his brow shaded his eyes. Though he tended to keep his eyes latched to her anyway, he looked earnest this time; like there was more he was trying to find before him.

(Y/N) swallowed. He hadn't even realized she was looking at him, she didn't think, at least with the way he didn't shy away when she found him staring. Or, he just didn't care.

Maybe, she could argue, he found Will as a possible threat being so close and so touchy with her. That was his job anyway, see those kinds of possibilities where she normally wouldn't. And, he took his job seriously.

"I know we've pretty much picked already, but let's take a picture and try on the others," Will propositioned, pulling her out of her head, "We'll send them to Dom and see what he thinks, right?"

With a flutter of her lashes and her gaze disengaging with Harry's form, she straightened her falling smile. "Right! My phone's over there, if you want to take the pictures really quick!"

With her phone in hand, Will began snapping photos of her, (Y/N) posing and smiling with every angle on display for her stylist to analyze later. The moment erupted into giggles as the posing became more ridiculous, Will fueling her with the ways he angled her phone and goaded her to get more and more wild.

All the while, (Y/N) could feel Harry's eyes on her.

She found she didn't mind having his eyes on her.

—————

In front of him, (Y/N) twirled and twisted while her friend took photos of her. Harry watched the whole time, cataloguing the way the dress formed around her body, the silk sliding over her skin and glimmering under the light.

Harry's chest felt tight. He couldn't take his eyes off of her.

She looked gorgeous.

In the front of his mind, he knew well that he would do better to be paying attention to their surroundings, watching her friend's hands, anything that actually pertained to his job.

But, he didn't. Instead, he watched his client. Even when she caught him.

—————

"Yes, sir, we're on the way."

Harry's voice was gruff and low as he spoke on the phone, (Y/N) listening in from where she sat next to him in the SUV. She played with the slowly dulling edges of her nails, pretending as if she had no idea as to what her dad was saying and asking on the phone to Harry.

She pretended not to catch the way he glanced at her from the corner of her eye, his gaze sweeping over her form before he was facing forward once more. "Yes, sir—she's dressed appropriately."

(Y/N) had to tune it out then. She didn't care to hear more of the checklist Harry had to go through in order to approve her walking out of the house. She felt more than exposed; under a microscope with everyone awaiting her downfall.

Not soon enough, it seemed the end of the phone call was finally nearing. Harry shifted in his seat as he spoke, giving a time estimate to their arrival before a mild "See you soon." left his lips and the call ended.

Biting back a sigh, (Y/N) sunk into her own seat that much more.

Of course, her father would call Harry over his actual daughter. She couldn't be trusted to give honest answers, obviously. Some days she felt disappointed over the way he acted with her, other days saddened for the little girl inside of her that ached for her parent's love, but days like this brought anger to the surface. She couldn't fathom how important he must think he was to believe he could speak to and about her the way he did.

Though the thought of looking at—let alone speaking to—him today was making her more than annoyed, she was already on her way to the country club and she couldn't back out now. At least she could eat as much as she wanted and buy just as many drinks all on her father's card.

He was going to be way too enthralled with his stupid country club friends—and Harry—to even acknowledge her, anyway. Whenever she was invited to see him on the green, she was meant to be nothing more than a pretty accessory, to show that he was a family man too, not just a ruthless businessman. She was there to be gazed upon by men way too old and way too married to be looking at her the way they did, but that was part of the reason she was called upon.

By the time the structure of the gated country club came into view, (Y/N) was already reading through the familiar menu in her head. She was going to buy the entire patio a round of drinks, she decided. Maybe even two rounds.

Going through the gates, Sully pulled them to the front of the building. The golf course stretched for miles around the main building, perfectly green and manicured, gorgeously maintained attractions throughout the holes with fountains and elaborate sand traps. The perfect kind of course for people with too much money and not enough actual understanding of the game. Around the back were the tennis courts and pool, everything warm blues with mosaic tiles, waitstaff crawling all over the place to tend to every whim of the clientele.

The bistro was her father's favorite part, though. That was where the whiskey was served.

He only pretended to care about golf just so he could laze around the club and smoke cigars in the afternoon and drink whiskey with people too stupid to realize he only saw them as dollar signs.

She could only hope he'd already had a chance to drink this morning with his friends, leaving him too sloppy to care if she snuck off to play some tennis or out to the koi pond in the garden. Maybe, Harry would even become too distracted with her father, too wrapped up in the schmoozing and drinks and promises, to follow her out. Maybe she could get a real chance to be alone this afternoon.

Sully helped (Y/N) out of the car as Harry waited for her on the walkway, the grand building behind him full of warm woods and golden fixtures. Large glass windows almost filling the complete space of the walls showcased the inside of the villa, the view only obstructed from the amount of greenery planted outside, tall bushy trees and manicured hedges acting as shades.

Keeping her tennis skirt from riding up her thighs, she used Sully's hand to steady her as she stepped onto the stone walkway.

"Thank you," she told him, voice quiet compared to the nature-esque sounds that came from the club and the various activities others were partaking in.

Sully nodded at her, gentle smile on his cheeks. "I'll be back soon. Do you want me to wait for your father's cue or yours?"

"Mine," she answered immediately. If it were up to her father, she'd spend the entire evening here with no end in sight. It would probably turn into some unwanted date with a random man he thought would be good for her.

Sully's smile was understanding as he nodded to her. "I'll be here as soon as you need me."

With that, she shared her goodbyes with her driver before joining Harry at his silent post a few feet ahead of her. He barely glanced at her before he started leading her into the club, opening the door for her to step ahead. He once again took the helm as he led her through the country club, (Y/N) standing back in favor of lagging behind. He might not know the club as well as she, but he at least knew where her father was expecting to meet them. This way, he would be the first person they saw, as well; that could buy her a couple extra seconds of being off before slipping into her role.

Walking into the Bistro, (Y/N) was greeted with the familiar smile of the waitstaff that knew her well. They didn't stop them as she gave a small wave, already assuming she was there to meet her father at the most boisterous table in the restaurant.

It was easy to spot him in the otherwise polite eatery, other patrons quietly dining with fresh tans or aching sunburns from the time outside. Sidelong glances were sent in the way of her father's table, some envious, others annoyed. She could deeply relate to those who were fed up with his noise. He was always much more bothersome after a few drinks.

Men gathered around him, clustered around his small table. (Y/N) recognized most of them. Some of them elicited a stiffening in her spine, her guard going up the much further in case their eyes wandered too close to her, others she knew as investors he most likely originally meant to meet here, and some she didn't know at all. It was still easy to suss them out, anyway; it was the giddy smiles on their faces and the way they barely drank, that showed they were people who had been fighting to be invited to the table and were way too excited to be in such a close orbit to her father and his friends. Gullible, the only way to describe them.

Twisting her Cartier bracelet around her wrist, (Y/N) tipped her chin with faux-confidence and plastered her tabloid-famous smile the second they stepped into the dining area. Harry was still in the lead, glancing at her over his shoulder once he also spotted their intended table.

Her smile didn't waver, ensuring he didn't catch any kind of reaction that could be relayed to her father.

The second her father turned to face them, stopping his conversation short, she knew the whiskey in his hand was not the first of the day. His eyes were glazed and warm, less scrutinizing but still nowhere near kind.

He lit up when he registered Harry's presence. "There he is!" her father shouted across the restaurant, a waiter's steps faltering at the outburst.

Stepping just out from behind Harry, (Y/N) noticed the way her father's gaze didn't deter from her bodyguard; a man he had met for the first time only a few weeks prior. In some ways, she was relieved to be ignored—it was easier this way, she knew—but other parts of herself were sore from the sting of being nothing worth noting to her dad.

Harry gave a small wave, still a touch too far away to give his own greeting back. At least he was being courteous of the other diners.

"This is the Harry I was telling you all about," her father continued, much too loud for the space though no one corrected him, "He's my daughter's handler."

Noises of recognition rattled around the table, some pretending, others giving knowing smiles. (Y/N) didn't dare to think about the stories he shared about her and Harry. He would no doubt be painted as a shining knight, clean and unwavering in control, while she would be left to be the troll of the story, the one being needing to be controlled.

Once they were near enough, those surrounding the table stood to introduce themselves to Harry, offering hands to shake and exchanging pleasantries. Harry took it in stride, his deep voice sticking out from the too-excited greetings of the others.

(Y/N) stood quietly behind. She could feel a pair of eyes or two falling upon her, but she was largely ignored in favor of Harry.

It's better this way, she reminded herself. None of these men's attention was worth it.

Feeling more like decor than a person, (Y/N) stood and watched as Harry was roped into the conversation, even taking a seat her father pulled up. All the while, her father sang Harry's praises, a hand clasped over his shoulder. Harry was just so smart, and qualified, level-headed and strong. (Y/N) had been so much better-behaved even—she might even be ready to be a wife instead of running around the city with her friends. Who knew it was a babysitter his wild child needed to finally calm down; another man to tell her what to do.

That comment made her smile dip. She hoped no one noticed.

The table erupted into laughter at his comment, jovially agreeing as if she wasn't standing right there. Harry was the only one to look at her from over his shoulder, a smile notably missing from his lips. He matched her eyes for a lingering moment before he dropped his gaze.

"Right," he said once he rejoined the conversation, the word missing the same enthusiasm the rest of the table held.

She stood for a moment longer, listening in as she fiddled with her bracelet, before she started inching away. "I'm going to go," she mumbled, noting the way no one seemed to look in her direction but Harry, "Probably get food or something."

(Y/N) turned on her heel then, half expecting Harry to follow, though she was sure the bigger priority was to stay with her father than continue babysitting her. She could feel the eyes of other patrons on her as she left the table, but she didn't stop to reconsider before she was slipping out through the backdoor.

The patio was bathed in bright sunlight, country club members lounging in the warmth with cocktails in hand while waitstaff meandered through the wrought iron tables. She didn't pay anyone any mind as she made her way through, giving smiles to those she made eye contact with before glancing away in favor of making as small of an impression as possible. Though it was generally frowned upon by the club to exploit its high profile members with covert photos or posting any details about the dealings within, that didn't mean it didn't happen. She knew more than a few times stories of her time at the club had been leaked to the press along with blurry photos, and she definitely didn't want that to happen again today with the way her father was shouting her business across the entire dining room inside.

Stepping off the stone patio, she made her way towards the gardens. A short hedge "maze" made most of the garden, leading her through with flowers littered around the space, small fountains, and a koi pond glittering in the center. Other than the tennis courts, this was her favorite space at the club.

The scent of the vibrant flowers beckoned to her, drawing her into the mini maze. A small smile took over her features, reaching out to caress the soft petals of the blooming roses. Fluffy bumble bees flittered between the blossoms, their tiny bodies covered in pollen as they went to each plant. A soft buzz filled the air as she walked, her careful footsteps over the plush grass adding to the delicate noise. It was easy to block out the rest of the commotion like this; the thumps from the tennis court, splashes from the pools, and the chatter from the patio all melted away. Trickling from the tiny waterfall fountains led her closer and closer to the center.

Zagging through the maze, she felt the sun warming her shoulders around the straps of her tank top. That same warmth seeped through to her bloodstream, floating her to the clouds just a little bit.

This was the first time she'd been out without Harry at her side. She'd almost forgotten what that felt like.

To be fair, she was beginning to get used to the feeling of having an extra shadow following her everywhere she went. That unsettling edge she had tied to having a security detail had begun to dull, finally. She didn't completely mind knowing that someone had eyes on her at all times, whether he was checking for her safety or for her bad behavior to peak. It wasn't something she would consider a normal feeling yet, but she could get there.

Hopefully, though, she wouldn't have enough time to get used to him. Hopefully, he'd be relieved of his post before she got that far.

With the lack of stories being printed about her, she even hoped that her father would grant her freedom sooner rather than later. The only things she saw about herself tended to be things about her summer outfits, or analyses of her instagram posts. Nothing major had been posted since Damien. She had to be on the right track if rumors about her were losing traction.

Falling back down to earth, (Y/N) grounded herself as she gazed down into the koi pond. The concrete barrier was carved with roses, the reliefs matching the actual blooms coming through in the hedges. The fish were graceful pops of color in the clear water, bright calico coral tones shining under the sun. Lilly pads with tiny flowers floated on the surface, allowing the kois to move like ghosts underneath. This was her favorite spot in the gardens, making it easy for her to sink to her knees with her hands perched on the lip of the barrier and gaze down at the creatures.

That childlike urge in her to reach out and pet the fish rose, wishing she could treat them like pets. (Y/N) almost wanted to laugh at herself with the way she had to remind herself to keep her hands to herself.

Suddenly the sound of footsteps sounded through the maze. They were close enough (Y/N) could hear the quick pace, the purpose someone would have to have to breeze through the leisurely maze like that.

For a split second, her muscles tensed, her lungs squeezed. Her first thought made her want to run.

The letters.

Whoever wrote them didn't want to hide anymore. They waited until she was alone like this. They could do and say anything they wanted here. No one would even know with the cover of the hedges.

Her heart raced in her chest when they grew close enough (Y/N) swore she could hear the sound of the grass crushing under the intruder's feet. Her breath caught in her throat.

She whipped her head around just in time to see someone breaking into the clearing.

It was Harry.

He had a scowl on his face, shoulders tensed, and eyes hard. He stopped in his tracks when he saw her sitting there in the grass, legs folded underneath her.

(Y/N)'s hand fluttered up to her throat, a sharp exhale leaving her lungs. It was just Harry, he reminded herself.

"Jeez, you scared me so bad just now," she breathed, sinking from how hard she had been tensed in wait.

"Sorry," he said, lips thin as he shifted his gaze to the koi pond behind her.

Though he looked just as closed off as he usually did, his demeanor matching his dark clothing, there was a bit more of an edge to his aura. If she didn't know any better, (Y/N) would think he was angry.

He heard her say she would be out back, she knew that. He couldn't be angry at her when he didn't follow her out of his own volition. Right?

A slight pinch knitted her brows together as she looked up at him. "Are... Is everything okay?"

Not shifting his gaze from where he had landed them on the blooms of roses in the maze, he gave her a curt nod. "Yes."

"Okay," she said, unsure of what else to offer in the quiet of the maze. Awkwardly, she rose to her feet, brushing nonexistent dirt from her tennis whites.

A beat passed before (Y/N) turned to face him once more, finding his gaze already on her. "You can keep walking if you want. I didn't mean to interrupt you," he said, his voice low as if to match the buzz of the bees.

"Are you sure?" she asked, still catching the storm in his eyes even if it had settled some.

Only a single nod was given in response.

With that, (Y/N) was the one to lead him through the maze. Harry was a welcome ghost behind her, silently following. He didn't complain with every lingering step between the blooms, didn't bother her as she felt the softened rose petals, didn't push her through in annoyance of the bees flying around their heads.

The second half of the maze seemed to relax him from the way she saw his shoulders relax, his gaze softening the longer they spent away from everyone else. She almost wanted to take him back to the beginning when they finally finished, the end of the maze opening up to a stone walkway that split with two avenues. One took them back to the bistro's patio, the other to the golf courses.

"Are you hungry?"

After the quiet that followed them through the maze, Harry's voice was a shock.

"Yeah, actually." (Y/N) answered after a beat.

"C'mon," Harry said, gesturing for her to follow after him as he started down the pathway rounding back to the restaurant.

The patio was just as bustling as when she had slipped through earlier, the expansive windows allowing her to peek inside and find her father still holding court. Pushing through the small gate that separated the space, the waitstaff turned to look at them from the pinched creak the iron hinge gave.

A familiar woman smiled from where she stood at the extra hosting podium stationed outside. "(Y/N)," she brightly greeted her, "Are you dining with us after all today?"

A short glance was spared in Harry's direction before (Y/N) was nodding. "Yes, please. Thank you."

The familiar hostess quickly seated them, menus and glasses of water left on the table. The waitress would be only a moment away, they were told. The service was always on the quick side whenever (Y/N) was here; they knew good and well who her father was, and the club loved a generous member.

Harry was quiet as they were waited on, looking over the menu as if it were a textbook to study. He didn't even look up when the fair-haired waitress made her way to their table. She introduced herself as Carly, though (Y/N) already knew her well enough from the last handful of times she had been dragged here by her dad.

"Before we start, were you wanting to open up a separate tab today, Ms. (Y/N), or put today's meal on your father's?" she asked, her smile bubbly as she relayed the same question they always posed.

"On her father's."

Flicking her gaze from the waitress, she saw Harry still looking at his menu as if he hadn't just spoken. That storm had returned to his gaze, a pinch appearing between his brows.

Carly was silent, looking between the two of them.

"On my dad's tab, please," (Y/N) confirmed, offering a soft smile before the silence had time to settle for too long.

"Perfect," Carly answered, writing down whatever message needed on the pad in her hand, "I'll give you guys a moment with the menu and come back and take your order. Sound good?"

"Sounds good," (Y/N) answered for them both, perfect smile on her lips until their waitress stepped away.

Silence settled between the two of them, Harry still focussed on his menu. Though it was a bit bold for Harry to assume they were going to be dining on her father's dime, she couldn't deny it was a little funny. That was her own plan after all, she just hadn't anticipated his vehement agreement.

Soon enough, their waitress returned. "Had enough time?" she posed, reaching to her apron pocket for her notepad.

Glancing at Harry, she saw the small nod he gave. "I think so," (Y/N) answered, already familiar with the menu enough to not have to glance through.

"Great," Carly chirped, pulling her notepad out, "Any drinks? Starters?"

Before she had a chance to order her raspberry lemonade, Harry piped up, "A whiskey on the rocks, please. And, the coconut mango cocktail."

There was a beat that passed as Carly wrote everything down. (Y/N) looked at him with raised brows. That was not at all what she had expected; wasn't he still on the clock?

For the first time, he glanced at her over his menu, something loaded in his eyes as he tipped his chin towards the leaflet with all the drink specials printed.

"And, for you?" Carly asked, facing (Y/N).

"Um," she fumbled, "Can I get a glass of Chardonnay please? And the raspberry lemonade."

(Y/N) didn't plan on drinking her wine, but felt as if she needed to match Harry in the ordering process at least.

"Alright, I will get all of that going for you, and I'll be back to take your lunch orders." With that, their waitress left, her notepad snapped shut and her gaze just a touch wary between them.

(Y/N) couldn't blame her.

A moment passed before (Y/N) dropped her menu to lay flat on the table. Harry looked up at her through his lashes.

"Are you really going to drink all of that?" Honestly, she wondered what a drunk Harry would look like.

"No," he deadpanned, "But your father is still going to pay for it whether I drink them or not."

The smile that tugged on the corner of (Y/N)'s lips was something that she couldn't help. It was out of character for the person she thought Harry to be—a loyal follower of her dad—, but definitely something she would have (and has) done herself.

"Right," she answered, gaze shifting to the menu in search of the most expensive items she could spot.

Maybe, Harry was closer to being on the same page as her than she thought.

—————

"Thank you, Carly," (Y/N) said as she signed the check, quickly passing it back to their server.

"Of course," Carly beamed. Her smile only widened when she saw the three digit tip on the line for her. "Thank you, Ms. (Y/N)."

(Y/N) didn't linger then, knowing Sully was up front waiting for them to be taken home. "Ready?" she asked Harry as she stood from her chair.

"Ready," he answered, much more relaxed than at the beginning of their meal.

Ignoring her father, (Y/N) left the bistro behind. He probably didn't even remember inviting her out for the day. It didn't matter, though, she thought.

He'd remember the three extra appetizers and handful of drinks left untouched on their table.

—————

rêvasser is to daydream in french.

I know it's a little light on harry at the start of this story but more exciting stuff is coming!!!!! thank u sm for reading, sorry for any mistakes, and if you have any fun ideas or anything please let me know !

920 notes · View notes

odditycircus-2002 · 2 months

Note

Hello, may I please request an Mk11 Imagine of Syzoth & Ashrah (Poly) meeting and Edeian!Reader who's like a Druid/Cleric of the living forest?

A/N: I'm not sure whether this was a typo, but I'm assuming you want MK1 Syzoth and Ashrah to meet an Edenian reader, who is either a druid or Cleric of the Living Forest? Please comment to correct me if I'm wrong.

Aesthete

Syzoth wasn't surprised when Empress Mileena summoned him to speak privately in the Great Hall, but he was surprised when Mileena specifically requested that he bring Ashrah to the Outworld. His bewilderment was soon swept away when the Empress explained that she was asking for Ashrah to advise the Druids of the Living Forest as the demoness is an ally most familiar with the magics that corrupted the landscape. Mileena wanted to do all she could to restore the resting place of the Honored Dead or at least stifle the corruption that threatened to take root. She assured Syzoth that he may accompany her in case of anything relating to Quan-chi's magic.

When the Zaterran shapeshifter went to explain this to Ashrah, she was more than happy to assist in any way she could. However, the demoness admitted that she doesn't think she can be much help, as Quan-chi's twisted dark magic is something she's only seen, not practiced. After Syzoth assures Ashrah that the Empress merely asks her to advise the druids and reassures the demoness that he believes in her abilities, the pair finally embark on Outworld.

The Umgadi, now led by Tanya, escort them to the corrupted portion of the Living Forest. Along the way, Tanya informs the couple about the Living Forest's progress.

"The royal Druids and Clerics managed to quarantine what little remains of the Living Forest as it once was, although they fear the corruption that dominates most of The forest may eventually even reach them."

Ashrah takes a sweeping gaze at The Forest around them and frowns. She still remembers the absolute wonder that overtook her when first looking at the serene and transcendent masterpiece of nature. Now, it is scorched with green flames that reek of Quan-chi's evil, making it not too much different from the Netherrealm save for the scant pieces of its former glory. Syzoth, sensing Ashrah's distress, reaches out a hand to gently take the latter's smaller one into his own, both contrasting drastically in temperature. Ashrah glances at Syzoth from the corner of her eye and gives him a wry grin.

"I will do my best to restore this wonderful forest."

Ashrah promises.

"Good,"

Tanya responds before stopping in front of a great tree. Crouched at the foot of it was someone wearing humble clothing that matched the palette of the Living Forest. They were muttering to themselves, hands clenched around a wooden staff, as they observed the blackened roots, a deep frown etching their faces. Tanya gestures toward the stranger, the sound of the new Matron Superior's voice gaining their attention. They then use their staff which, upon closer inspection, was made of roots twisted together to raise themselves off the ground.

"You will be working with the Imperial Archdruid Y/N L/N, as of today."

They offer Ashrah and Syzoth a polite smile, a speck of dirt present on their cheek which only went with the leaves and flower petals that decorated their hair.

"The souls of the dead and the spirit of the land have told me much about you two."

Syzoth feels his jaw clench at their words, although spoken with no malice.

"What have they told you?"

"Only positive things, rest assured."

The Zatteran's eyes squint at the druid in suspicion, but a firm squeeze from Ashrah's warm hand is enough to ease him. Syzoth shifts some of his focus on his lover's hand as Y/N thanks Tanya and the Umgadi for escorting them before leading them deeper into the corrupted forest. A sense of deja vu passes through both Ashrah and Syzoth, which reminds the latter,

"How much did the forest tell you about Ashrah and me?"

Y/N remained silent for only a moment before shrugging to themselves, seeing no point in withholding the truth.

"They told me how they heard you and your companions made your way through this very path."

Ashrah's eyes widen as she takes in the scene around them, now noticing the vague landmarks such as the formations of the boulders with faces carved into them.

"Really? I hardly recognized this to be the same path."

"I do not blame you for not realizing this. Quan-chi and his minions not only have tainted the forest's life energy, but they have purged the souls here into endless agony as the corruption eats away at them."

A deep scowl mars their face as the screams and cries echo throughout the Living Forest, which Ashrah and Syzoth can barely hear. The screams howl in the Archdruid's eat as they stop at the clearing where Quan-chi's Soul Stealer was first activated. Y/N's jaws ache as they grind their teeth.

"Nature will prevail as it always has, whether through fires or oceans rising. But this,"

Y/N points their staff accusingly at one of the trees adorned with a skull-like face, an unnatural green fire in its hollow eyes.

"This is unnatural! An abomination and outcry against the natural order!"

They let out a weary sigh.

"I wish I wasn't sent away to Sun-Do so I could've prevented this corruption."

"... I wish you were as well if only to prevent this tragedy."

Ashrah whispered to herself, which Syzoth picked up as well. The former demoness and shapeshifting Zatteran's expressions fall as they reflect on that day. Although they both stopped Quan-chi and destroyed his Soul Stealer, it wasn't without collateral on such a massive ecological scale. Even when they were trying to do good and make amends, they ended up destroying everything in their path. Y/N notices their change in mood, finding that they didn't like those shameful expressions from two people who only had the best intentions.

"I know you both had a hand in your former masters' plans, but I find neither of you to blame. Those two sorcerers are parasites leeching off your services for themselves."

Ashrah and Syzoth look toward Y/N, who has a reassuring smile.

"The souls and the spirit of the forest told me about your plights and heroics. About your quest for Absolution,"

Y/N addresses Ashrah before then doing the same for Syzoth.

"And your quest for redemption. They regale me with how you tried to save the forest, and both of you tried to stop Quan-chi from succeeding. If it weren't for you both, then what happened here,"

Y/N brushes a hand against the blackened bark of a mighty tree.

"Would've befallen all of the Realms."

Ashrah follows suit and places a hand against the same tree, immediately pulling her hand away as if it just burned her. Y/N then gently takes Ashrah's hand in between theirs to rub them between their own. The corner of Syzoth's mouth twitches as he observes the interaction between them, yet some doubt seems to still cling to him.

"We're grateful for your kind words, but I believe I spoke for both Ashrah and me when I said, there's hope for it to be restored, isn't there? Surely, the Empress wouldn't summon Ashrah here for nothing."

Y/N beams at Syzoth. Which the latter likens to a warm Summer's day. The kind he loves to take the time to bask under and warm his scales.

“Glad you asked. The Living Forest is the resting place of the honored dead. The souls and spirit of the forest are almost completely intricately linked since the forest is only made up of saplings. Do you know why this place was chosen to house the dead?

“No, I cannot say that I do.”

Ashrah answers. Syzoth looks off to one of the trees, spotting a druid grasping at a soul that wriggles and writhes in the druid's hold.

“Because they formed a symbiotic relationship with the preexisting life here. The souls give the forest life and, in return, ensure the souls' continued existence while able to grow as mighty as it is thanks to the life they house.

Every few dozen meters or so, a druid or a cleric, sometimes both, stooped at the roots of the trees, muttering under their breaths. Ashrah notes how they occasionally pulled out a bright blue-green spirit before placing it in jars filled with glowing crystals and herbs.

" We’re extracting souls from the corrupted trees and thus separating them from the source of the corruption itself. However, since the trees and souls are so intertwined, the spirits are reluctant to change vessels and fight to remain where they rest."

"Is that why you're extracting souls one by one? Because it would be more difficult to transfer them into smaller vessels?"

Syzoth gestures with a hand toward a druid, who's currently wrestling with an angry spirit that writhes and screams within her magical hold, clawing at the air in the direction of its tree of origin. Y/N raises their wooden staff to encase the spirit with their own magic before working in tandem with their fellow druid to place the spirit into a jar.

"Well done, Khass."

The druid, Khass, bows in thanks to their superior before resuming her task. The Archdruid then turns their attention back to Ashrah and Syzoth.

"To answer your question, Syzoth, it would be more difficult to fit so many souls in a smaller vessel, but that's not the main reason. Think of the process similar to transferring large honey bees one by one, only they're so attached to their home that not removing them carefully could anger the whole hive. On top of that, we’re attempting to make it so the removal doesn’t irreparably damage the souls themselves. This is where Ashrah comes in."

"You mean with my Kriss?"

Ashrah holds her faithful blade for both Y/N and Syzoth to see, the light of the sun reflecting off the blessed blade before glowing bright enough to rival the sun itself. Y/N nods in satisfaction.

"My theory is, if your blade was made to vanquish evil, then could it not remove such evil from the souls of the Living Forest if it was used just right? After we rid the souls of Quan-chi's vile magics, we can move the now purified spirits to a healthier part of the Forest for temporary relocation. Then our efforts can next go towards the Forest's healing. "

Syzoth looks towards his lover, who knows more about the enchanted blade than him. Ashrah looks hesitantly between her Kriss and Syzoth, looking into her blade that glows from the great evil it senses.

"I'm not sure if my Kriss can do what you hoped it could..."

Ashrah then looks towards an earnestly hopeful Y/N, whose look of hope fills the former demoness with confidence.

"But I wouldn't be able to live with myself if I didn't at least try."

"THANK YOU!"

Y/N cries out joyously before clearing their throat and composing themselves in a couple of seconds. Syzoth hisses to himself in amusement at the Archdruid's jubilation.

"I mean, thank you, Ashrah. Whether or not we succeed, I'm grateful that you tried."

"It means a lot hearing from you, Archdruid."

"Please call me Y/N if you would like. The same goes for you, Syzoth."

Syzoth gives a smile behind his mask.

"I would like that too."

Shortly after, all three of you went to work, starting with the tree Khass was working on. As Y/N had hoped, Ashrah can cut the corrupted thread that binds the soul to its living vessel. Despite this small step in success, despite Y/N and Khass's magical precautions, this small act ended up disturbing the rest of the souls that resided in the great tree.

They howled and swooped at any surrounding druids and clerics, frightening some unfortunates into turning their hair white. Yet You, Ashrah, and Syzoth worked together to gather up all the disturbed souls. While you and Ashrah worked on trapping and purifying the rampaging spirits, Syzoth protected the less experienced sorcerers when the trees came alive and attacked every living person they could see with their jagged branches. Unfortunately, some were lost when the trees picked them up and ate them. Yet, even with such an insane day, Y/N approached Ashrah and Syzoth as the Imperial Healers patched them and the injured.

"If either of you are still willing, I hope to work with you both again. However, I warn you that we still have our work cut out. There are still hundreds if not thousands, of trees that need purification."

The former demoness and shapeshifting Zatteran look towards each other and come to a silent agreement, deciding they're up for the task.

A/N: Apologies that this took so long. When you asked for an image with a poly for Ashrah and Syzoth, with a druid reader, I wanted to work on the theme of redemption and healing. I hope I did your request justice, as I love these characters and want to do right by their characters! Stay weird, my fellow humans.

Playlist while writing this:

“The Voice” by Celtic Woman

“Running with the Wolves” by Aurora

“Savage Daughter” by Ekaterina Shelehova

“The Willow Maid” by Erutan

“I Will Not Bow” by Breaking Benjamin