#esthetician harry

[gurugirl]

A Delicate Thing*

Summary: Harry is a crime boss and he meets the woman of his dreams on an important night. Mafia boss!harry x innocent!reader

A/n: this was a very specific request (no longer tagged bc they changed their username). Also, here is a link (NSFW) to some porn that was also suggested for a little inspiration. It's just for aesthetics, please imagine who you like as the mc.

7.6k words

Warning: Smut, innocent virgin having sex for the first time, mean Harry (he's not mean to y/n), mentions of mafia stuff (nothing too deep), a creepy father, some cliche themes (this is just for fun guys)

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After his father, Desmond, passed away, Harry took over the family business. He was a perfect fit for the job. As tough and ruthless as Harry could be, he was also a shrewd businessman and he knew how to run his organization and keep the men and women working for him happy so they were loyal. Harry was only cruel when it was necessary, and luckily, his father left him with a great crew of people to help him run the business and they already looked up to Harry and respected him. The men under him took his word as scripture. They knew not to fuck with Harry or the Styles’ name. Harry wouldn’t allow it because Desmond never did. Never mind that the Styles’ business was a known crime organization, no one could touch him. Law enforcement wouldn’t even take them down. The Styles clan was too big and too powerful.

So it was because of this that Y/n’s dad, William, wanted to get on Harry’s good side. Perhaps get a leg up in the organization. William had been working for the Styles’ since he was in his 20s, and now a man in his 40s, he wanted a bump up. More responsibility. More money. More power. His daughter, Y/n was young and pretty. He knew she was pretty because any time he brought her around the men would make comments and tell William he should be careful to let her out of his sight. So he had an idea when it came time for the annual Styles gala. The gala was a fundraiser of sorts. The townspeople always attended, as well as politicians, public figures, and all of the members of the organization were there. It was a big night, especially for Harry. It was the first year Desmond would not be in attendance. So, Harry would be the lead for everything and head the event and reception. Though he had people to do almost everything for him, he was the man of honor for the night, officially stepping up and taking over where his father left off.

William had Y/n get absolutely dolled up. He was bringing her to show her off to Harry at the event. Perhaps get Harry’s attention with his daughter. Y/n did not want to go. She was not excited about showing off her legs or her arms, smiling all night at creepy men, painting her lips red, keeping her hair just so, all so her father could flaunt her off. It felt gross. It felt shameful, but what could she do? Her father was not one to defy. So, she reluctantly allowed the beautician, esthetician, tailor, and stylist to do their thing. Her hair was perfectly done, left long and wavy, silky, and shiny. The esthetician gave her skin (face and body) a beautiful glow, soft, supple, and smooth. Her eyebrows were sculpted, and her hair was removed from her body (including her bikini region at her father’s request). Her makeup was done in soft shades that complimented her pretty face. Nails painted top to bottom. And finally, she was adorned in a dress that was fitted to her physique to show off her body.

The emerald satin of the dress accentuated her skin and eyes and even she couldn’t deny how alluring she appeared in the mirror as she stared at herself. But it didn’t make her feel good. Yes, it was pretty, she looked pretty. But the entire scheme was disgusting. Her father was a disgusting man for doing what he was doing. With his own daughter of all people. It felt wrong. She felt like a pawn in her father’s game.

She was a pawn in her father’s game.

The venue was full of wealthy guests, townspeople, politicians, and servers. Harry was one of the first to arrive to make sure everything was going to plan. He was excited about the night, it would be the first in his honor. He wanted to make a good impression but he was also there because he needed to meet with a handful of his closest men. On his left arm was Darcie, the beautiful brunette whom he’d been fucking for the last week. She was fun and easy. And she looked good in her little black dress for the event. Harry wasn’t worried much about her. He’d have her sit by the bar and have a couple of drinks while he and his men discussed work.

William was amongst the men at the meeting with Harry. He left Y/n at the bar as well and told her she could have a glass of wine but no more. Darcie immediately noticed the young woman in emerald. Competition perhaps.

Y/n felt awkward and uncomfortable. Her dress was a bit too fitted in certain spots and her thigh was displayed. Sitting on the little stool at the bar and sipping a glass of wine she watched as the guests arrived. Most were sitting at tables and being served, some were standing and chatting with people they knew. Music began to play and suddenly William was by her side, “Let’s go. I want you to meet Harry.”

This was what she was told would happen before coming. She knew she was here to meet someone named Harry. Her dad’s boss. She wasn’t keen on it. Not at all. Her glass of wine was left at the bar as she followed William to a table where six men and three women were sat. William pulled at Y/n, pushing her in front of him, “Harry, this is Y/n. My lovely, lovely daughter. I’ve been looking forward to you meeting her.”

Y/n smiled at everyone at the table, most didn’t look up at her but she did recognize the woman in the black dress with brown hair, long down her back. She was also at the bar with her when her dad had left her for the brief meeting. She made eye contact with the woman but didn’t receive a smile in return. Rather it was a cold gaze and then the woman turned her head toward the man she was sitting next to, the one William was trying to introduce her to called Harry.

“Thank you, William. You can have your seat.” Harry stated, never looking in Y/n’s direction. Harry had seen it all. He was sure William’s daughter would not be of interest. Harry didn’t need a young, insecure daughter of one of his men as part of his posse. He had what he wanted. When he wanted. Darcie was fine for him at the moment. She was a sure thing at the end of the night. It was boring, actually. To have William trying to flaunt his daughter was annoying more than anything.

“Harry, Y/n here would like to shake your hand at least. She’s a big fan of yours. Could you at least do her that favor?” William was desperate. He knew that if Harry just looked at Y/n there could be a chance of having him see her beauty and maybe there’d be favor gained.

Harry sighed and placed his glass of whiskey down on the table to appease William. His goal was to get William to go away with his daughter. He didn’t care in the least. He drew his gaze up over the young woman and she was almost shivering. Her eyes were downcast toward the floor, and her bottom lip bit into her mouth. She was nervous, Harry could see. It was obvious that William’s daughter was put up to this, and she was not here because she was a fan as William stated. There was something else at play and Harry didn’t like the looks of it.

The girl was stunning. Shy, insecure, and shaking. Harry frowned and looked at William and then back to the poor thing who was uncomfortable with the situation and he was filled with a touch of anger at the way William had paraded his daughter to him in this way.

Y/n knew Harry was a big boss of a crime organization and not one to be interrupted or annoyed. She felt as if she and her father were doing just that. That this was going to be her end and that Harry would have them done away with.

“William. Thank you. Y/n, come sit with me, here,” Harry snapped his fingers at the server who was standing at the table and motioned for them to bring a chair to his side, opposite where Darcie was seated. When the chair was placed on Harry’s left side, William nudged Y/n to sit.

She looked at her dad with worry, “Go on, darling. This is our chance,” he whispered to her.

Harry kept his eyes on William, “I said thank you, William. Take your seat at your table. Your daughter will sit here at the table with me.”

Y/n sat down as she was directed and kept her face downward. She didn’t know what to expect. Her heart was pounding. She’d never seen Harry in person, but he was very intimidating and his green eyes were striking. He was an eye-catching man. But she was still unsure of what to expect. His power and his ruthlessness proceeded him. She’d heard of the things he’d done to men before. Harry was not a nice man and now here she was sitting at his side amongst other men and women who were also not nice.

Darcie, who was sitting on Harry’s right side leaned in toward Harry and spoke loudly enough that Y/n could hear, “Poor girl. Wearing a cheap dress like that probably feels quite out of place here with us,“ her laugh indicated she wasn’t being nice in her words. Darcie knew the sudden arrival of the young woman was a threat to her place.

Harry ignored Darcie completely and looked over Y/n’s frame as she kept her eyes down. He was intrigued. The girl seemed scared but she was the daughter of one of his top men. A man that was looking for a promotion in the organization. The more Harry considered William, the more he wondered if the fact that he brought his daughter here was just a way to get Harry’s attention for a raise or a leg up. Harry didn’t like this. He didn’t like to use people as pawns and for William to use his own daughter in this way felt disgusting.

But it wasn’t Y/n’s fault. He could see that right away. No, Y/n was innocent. Pure. A sweet thing who was not here because she wanted to be. She was here because her father’s intentions were unkind and rather insulting. What did William think this was? A way to gain some kind of favor? Harry would do what he wanted and if William deserved favor he’d have it but not this way.

“Darling, is this normal? For your father to bring you to places and show you off in this way?” Harry was curious about how William had been treating this beautiful creature sat next to him. He moved the hair from her face gently so he could get a better look at the delicate thing.

When she finally turned her head to look into Harry’s eyes there was no turning back for Harry. She was far more beautiful than he even realized. The moment her eyes met his he felt his heart thud and his throat nearly went dry. Her pink lips and her delicate features, the sparkle of her eyes, and her slender neck were like something he’d dreamed up. He was unable to help himself as he moved his eyes down over her dress and to the curve of her waist and the spread of her thighs under her satin emerald dress. An angel was before him.

Y/n opened her mouth and tried to reign in her breaths. She was scared. “No. I mean… sometimes he brings me around, uh…” she wrung her hands in her lap and looked back down to calm herself. His eyes were searing into her and it was distracting. The way he was looking at her had her ears going hot and her senses blurred.

Harry turned to face the girl and placed his hand on her jaw and turned her face back toward his, “Sweetheart. You don’t need to be scared around me. I’m not going hurt you,” he spoke and brought his other hand up to her shoulder, bringing his fingers down her arm softly to soothe her, “Now, go on. Tell me what you were going to say.”

Goosebumps were left in the path of Harry’s fingers down her arm and she closed her eyes for a moment to compose herself. The warmth of his touch sent her heart racing. She opened her eyes again and tried to speak clearly, “He brings me around some of the men in your organization. He tells me it’s so I can learn to be good for powerful men.”

Harry scoffed and tilted his head to the side, keeping his eyes on the angel, “No baby. That’s not okay. You know that right?”

Suddenly Darcie leaned in and stretched her hand out toward Harry, wrapping her long fingers around his forearm to get his attention, “Do you think that’s really true, Harry? She’s obviously just trying to make you feel bad for her…”

Harry’s face turned into a scowl as he turned himself and yanked his arm from Darcie’s grasp, “You’re dismissed. You can go find another table to sit at. I no longer am in need of your services,” Harry turned back to Y/n, and his eyes immediately softened at the girl.

“My services!? What? You’ve been fucking me all week and that’s what you call a service? This stupid virgin isn’t going to be giving you head like I did just this morning. That I can guarantee. Good luck with the lying bimbo!” Darcie stood up but before she could walk away Harry stood and grabbed her upper arm in a tight grip, “The fuck did you call her?” He pointed at Y/n as he snarled at Darcie.

Darcie’s eyes went wide when she realized how angry Harry was, “Apologize to her now!”

Darcie shook her head, “Harry, I’m sorry…”

Harry slammed a fist onto the table, the dishes clanking and his glass of whisky sloshing, and now the whole room was watching the outburst, “Not to me you stupid whore. To her!” He again pointed in Y/n’s direction.

Darcie blinked her eyes as tears began to form on her lower lashes. She looked from Harry down to Y/n and sputtered out her words, “I’m sorry.”

Before Harry released Darcie’s arm he leaned into her and spoke calmly and darkly, “Now get the fuck out of here before I have my men remove you. You are no longer allowed to be here.”

Harry wiped his hands down his suit as if he was brushing dust off of himself before sitting back down. He pulled Y/n’s chair closer toward him and leaned into her, “Sorry about that, baby. Are you okay?” He moved her hair from her shoulder and drew a hand up toward the side of her neck tenderly.

Y/n nodded quickly. She was still nervous. She’d been a little surprised by the way Harry treated his date but she’d seen worse with some of the other men before. She was glad he made Darcie apologize.

“Good,” Harry kept his eyes on Y/n’s as he snapped his fingers again and the server was quickly by his side.

Harry spoke softly, “What would you like to drink, darling? A beautiful thing like you deserves the finest things. Champagne maybe? Top shelf?”

Y/n opened her mouth and raised her brows in worry, “My dad told me not to drink too much…”

Harry tsk’d at her and smiled, “You don’t need to worry about William anymore. I’m going to be the one to take care of you from now on. And if you’d like the finest champagne you’ll have it.”

Y/n nodded, “Okay,” her voice was quiet and fragile.

Harry ordered a bottle of champagne to be brought to the table and fresh strawberries to go with it.

Harry doted on Y/n during the dinner and the speeches that were made during the event. Never taking his eyes off her, his fingers gently dancing on her skin. He knew it was probably a bit too much but he couldn’t stop himself from touching her and looking her over. She was going to be his.

When dinner and the main event were done it was time for the reception and party. Harry moved Y/n and some of his crew toward where there’d be entertainment and music for the rest of the night. He sat along the wall where there was a plush couch and some tables. Y/n was about to sit down when Harry took her wrist and pulled her into his lap. He needed her to be as close as possible.

When her soft bottom met the top of his thighs he angled her so he could still see her face and he brushed his hand along her bare back, where her dress was low and he could feel her soft skin under his fingers.

More drinks were served and chatter was all around them but Y/n was feeling something deep in her stomach with the close proximity to Harry. He’d been so soft and kind with her and the attention he was giving her, the words he’d whisper were all so much. She’d never experienced it before but she wanted more.

Harry put one hand on her bare thigh, gently moving his thumb over her skin, “Shit, you’re beautiful,” he whispered to her, his lips brushing her ear, “Do you know that, Y/n? You’re so fucking stunning, baby. Want you to be all mine. Okay?” His warm breath and the accent of his words with his deep voice were overwhelming Y/n’s senses. She wanted that. She’d just met him but she wanted him. She wanted to be his.

She licked her lips and turned to look at Harry, “Okay,” she whispered and nodded.

Harry grinned at her and the hand on her thigh slid higher up, the pads of his fingers finding the material of her dress and dipping just under it, “Yeah? You want that? Fuck, baby. I’m going to take good care of you, okay?”

Harry pulled her to him, his hand at the back of her neck and his mouth finding hers. She tasted like honey and berries and champagne. The softest and sweetest and most delicate thing he’d seen and felt in all his life.

Before the kiss could get too hot Harry broke away from it and it left Y/n breathless, her lips parted and eyelids low. Now she knew what she wanted without a doubt. She wanted to please him and to have him please her. His mouth on her ignited her insides and she felt her nipples perk under her dress.

Harry noticed it too. He realized the state he’d left her in so he moved a hand further up her dress discreetly and whispered, “I know baby. I’m going to take you home when we’re done here and give you everything you want. Anything you want,” he pressed his fingers upward until he met her bare pussy. She was not wearing panties and Harry nearly lost his mind when he felt the slickness between her legs. Harry immediately thickened in his pants. This girl was going to be treated so well and he was going to take care of his angel properly.

The rest of the night was difficult for both Harry and Y/n. Harry couldn’t stop kissing her and touching her and Y/n was slowly wetting her satin dress where she was seated. Harry was treating her so sweetly and saying just the right things to her. And when Harry pulled her hand down over his trousers so she could feel him hard underneath and it startled her.

Now, Y/n had masturbated before and she could make herself orgasm by softly rubbing herself on her pillows her using her fingers but she was a virgin and she was not experienced otherwise so she’d never touched a penis before. She’d seen pictures but had never been in the presence of a real-live penis. But here she was, on the lap of a man who was so aroused by her that his own prick was thickened and she knew that this meant he wanted her in the same way she wanted him.

When William eventually approached them he had a creepy smile on his face and he was clearly drunk. Y/n wrapped her arms around Harry and shrunk in his lap, not wanting her father to see her like this. She really didn’t want to see William at all for any reason. In fact, she’d nearly forgotten all about him with the way Harry had made her feel safe and wanted on his lap and with all the attention he was giving her.

Harry noticed Y/n’s sudden change of demeanor and held her close to give her comfort and turned to Randy as he pointed at William, “Get him out of here.”

And that was that. Harry and Y/n didn’t have to see William again that night. Harry would take care of William another day. At that moment, he could only think of how he was going to take care of his girl.

Harry had his driver take them to his estate when he felt it was a good time to slip out without being noticed. Most everyone at the event was occupied, dancing, talking, and drinking so no one cared much when Harry whisked Y/n away with him and out the back to the car waiting for them.

When they pulled into the long driveway past the iron gates to Harry’s mansion it was a shock. It was the biggest house she’d ever seen. Her eyes were wide as Harry helped her out of the car and put his arm behind her back and walked her to the door and inside. A man greeted them at the door and the inside was just as ornate and fancy as the outside.

Y/n couldn’t stop herself from swiveling her head around to look at all the beautiful finishes and decorations. The tall windows, twenty-foot ceilings, marble floors, stair banister, walnut inlays, chandelier, art, expensive looking vases, and bowls and rugs, the walls were covered in silk wallpaper with subtle designs…

“It’s a lot. I know. This was my father’s home. His tastes were a bit extravagant, but it grows on you. It’s the finest decorations and furniture from all over the world. Just wait til you see the rest of the place, darling,” Harry smiled at Y/n as he watched her take it all in.

“It’s so beautiful, Harry,” Y/n brushed her hand along the edge of the velvet high-back chair that was near the staircase where Harry was leading her.

Harry kept his eyes on the beautiful girl and nodded in awe of her, “It is so beautiful.”

The bedroom was large with high ceilings and tall windows and the biggest bed Y/n had ever seen. She heard the heavy walnut door being closed behind her when Harry came up behind her and wrapped his arms around her front, pressing her back into his chest.

He began to kiss her neck softly and she started to melt once again in Harry’s arms. His broad chest was solid and she felt safe in his arms. When he moved his hands down to her hips she felt the warmth of his palm even through her satin dress. But she also felt his solid length poking into her bottom and she was reminded of her own situation between her legs.

“Can I take off your dress, baby? Will you let me see you?” Harry whispered into her ear as his hands slowly smoothed up her sides over her dress. He knew she’d look like perfection. He could already tell. Her thigh had been on display and her dress was scooped low down her back where the front draped perfectly over her breasts and hugged her waist and hips.

Y/n nodded. She wanted relief. She was feeling the ache and the neediness that had begun at the reception earlier when he sat her in his lap. Her nerves were peaking but she was excited about it.

Harry removed his suit jacket and draped it over a chair and then turned to face Y/n and very slowly began to remove her dress, bringing the thin straps off of her shoulders and pushing the material down, exposing her breasts to him where he paused and placed a soft kiss to each of her nipples and she softly moaned at the touch.

Then he dragged the dress the rest of the way down her body and lifted her legs, one at a time to help her step out, leaving her in only her high heels and Harry thought he was going to faint. She was smooth, soft, and untouched by any imperfections on her skin.

He knelt down and put his hands up to her hips and placed his warm mouth on her tummy, kissing and squeezing her until he dropped his mouth to right over her sweet, pussy. She was already wet and he could see her juice peeking out from her labia, the shine and the smell made him twitch in his pants. He brought his lips down, going around her pussy, over her thighs, and to her knees, on each side, and then back up.

He looked up at her and she’d put her hands on his shoulders to steady herself when he pushed his tongue out and licked the very center of her wet slit with only the tip of his tongue.

“Is this okay, Y/n? Do you want me to make you feel so good?” He spoke over her pussy, his warm breath cascading down her folds and she gasped at the feel and nodded, “Yes, please.”

Harry stood up and moved her toward the bed and had her lie flat on her back in the very center, legs spread wide at his urging. He held her thighs apart and looked her over, taking all of her intimate bits in. Everything was perfection and she was his. He could hardly believe it.

Harry was gentle at first, kisses and licks and soft laps at her pussy. She didn’t know what to do with herself it felt so good. Better than her fingers for sure. But when he realized her clit was standing at full attention and she was puffy and whiny he knew she was ready for more. She was fully aroused.

So he put his mouth around her clit and softly brought it into his mouth, sucking the tiniest bit and watching her to get her reaction and he was not disappointed. The shock on her face turned into ecstasy and her pink lips parted as she moaned and cried. Harry smiled and repeated his actions, holding a thigh down for his access to his center.

Soon, as Harry was licking her and lapping her and sucking her just right, he circled two fingers over her tiny entrance and dipped just the tip of his fingers in to get a feel. Her muscle was tight but she was very wet and so he eased his two fingers into the first knuckle slowly. She gasped and tilted her head up to see what he was doing.

Harry’s intense gaze was on hers the whole time. She saw his pink tongue lapping at her slit and circling her clit and he had a hand at her entrance, prodding, and poking softly to open her up.

Harry lifted his face, “I’m gonna finger you darling. Just to get you used to the feel of this. Have you ever put your fingers into this little hole right here?” He wiggled the tips of his fingers inside of her as he asked.

She let out a soft breath and shook her head, “No.”

Harry smiled. He figured she hadn’t. So he went slow and watched her expressions change and the way her mouth got wider and wider and her moans got deeper and louder the further he pushed his fingers into her. She was so wet she was getting the comforter under her bum slick, just like Harry liked.

By the time Harry had his fingers pushed in all the way to his last knuckle, and his rings were disappearing into her hole she started fucking herself down onto his fingers by herself. She had the natural instinct to sink down on something inside of her and Harry gave her a good slurp on her clit and inserted another finger and she came with a yelp and a gush on his tongue. Her body shook when she felt her orgasm burst and it was better than any orgasm she’d ever given herself. His fingers had been poking and pushing into something delicate and sensitive inside of her that she’d never experienced before and it made her whole body shiver.

Harry let her come down and he gave her plenty of time to recover from her shock as he laid next to her and kissed her neck and her cheek and whispered to her how good she’d done.

“Such a good girl, Y/n. My sweet baby. I’ve never seen anyone come so pretty before. Taste so good too. I’m going to have you for breakfast, lunch, and dinner every day from now on, okay?’

Y/n smiled and nodded as she lulled her head over to look at Harry. His eyes were dark with lust and she knew she wanted to please him too. So she turned to face him and moved her hand down to his crotch, where he was solid and harder than ever.

Harry groaned at her touch and he grinned, “Want to see it?”

And of course, she did. She nodded and sat up as Harry began to remove his clothes. When he had pulled his underwear down his legs and crawled back into the bed with her she was speechless. She put her hand out toward his long cock and touched the very tip and sucked in a sharp breath at how warm he was.

She looked up at Harry with wide, round eyes, “It’s so big.” She knew that a penis was meant to go inside of a vagina and that she had a hole where Harry had his fingers, but she couldn’t imagine it fitting into her.

Harry grabbed her hand and pressed her palm down on him harder, “It’s all yours. Do you want to taste?”

Again, she nodded. She was curious about it. Harry pulled her toward him and she got onto her knees on the mattress next to him and dipped down to kiss the very tip. Her lips found his slit and Harry hissed and smiled at her, “Good girl.”

She knew that was a good sign so she kept going. Kissing the shaft and looking up at him when she poked her tongue out to lick the edge and taste him. It wasn’t bad. It didn’t taste like much really. Just warm skin on her tongue. She began to get the hang of it, licking and kissing along his thick shaft toward his base and then back up.

“Put the tip inside your mouth and suck,” Harry said as he nodded at her.

She eagerly lowered herself and opened her wet mouth, placing it over his crown and using the flat of her tongue to get him wetted and swipe around the head, perfectly caressing his frenulum and he moaned and put a hand into her hair, “Just like that baby.”

She continued doing what she thought he liked, keeping her eyes on his. She lowered a bit more and sucked hard at his urging and he threw his head back with a growl and he smiled at her eagerness and her soft lips.

“Spit over it and use your hands to get my cock all wet,” Harry nudged her.

So she did what he said, spitting on him and using her hands to smooth the saliva over him and down his shaft. She spit a few times to get him all slick in her hand and then continued to suck and swirl her tongue on the tip of his prick.

Harry was in heaven. But he wanted to feel his girl. He wanted to know what her pussy would feel like on him and he hoped she wanted that too.

He pushed her off of him softly and he looked at her in amazement, “Can we try something else, my angel?”

Y/n was in for anything at this point as she nodded.

Harry made her lay flat on her back as he knelt between her legs and held his heavy cock in his hands and swiped his tip through her drenched slit and it was a beautiful site.

“My penis will fit inside of this hole here,” he said as he plunged his middle finger into her entrance and then he pulled it out and licked his finger. Y/n bit her lip and she had a worried look on her face.

“What’s wrong, darling?” Harry asked as he thumbed over her clit to get her all worked up again. She started to wiggle a bit and roll her hips upward toward his finger for relief.

“I think it’s too big, Harry.” She said with a straight face.

Harry chuckled and shook his head, “No, baby, it’s not. Your hole will stretch and open up when I press this in. This is where babies come from, you know that right?”

She nodded and blinked. That made sense.

“And if a baby can come through this hole, my penis is sure to fit. And it’s going to feel so good. You’re gonna love it. You know how good it felt when I had my fingers inside of you?”

Harry slide a finger inside of her again and curled it up for her to feel the pressure and she nodded with a gasp.

“Exactly. It’ll feel even better with this in there,” he said when he began to swipe his cock up and down her labia again and softly nudged at her entrance with his head. If she were anyone else he’d already be fucking her and making her toes curl. But this was his Y/n. She was delicate and too sweet. He wanted her to feel comfortable and safe with him. He’d make her feel like a queen if she let him.

She nodded and she knew he was right. He’d only been gentle and caring with her this whole time. She trusted him, “Okay.”

Harry kept a thumb at her clit as he angled her hips for him to more easily push in. He stayed sat back, his knees bent with legs under him as she laid flat, her thighs spread and open for him.

She closed her eyes when she felt his crown begin to poke into her. His thumb felt nice on her clitoris and it helped her feel grounded.

“Look at me, Y/n. Watch my face, honey…” he squeezed her hip to get her attention and she opened her eyes up right away. Looking at him as he slowly pushed past her tight muscle and continued to circle her clit with his thumb.

She could see how good it felt for him as he got deeper inside of her, his mouth parted, his brows scrunched. But to her, it didn’t feel as bad as she thought it would. She was old enough that her hymen was probably broken by now and even though she’d never even put a tampon inside of her, she’d ridden horses and bikes and was aware that activities like that, along with just naturally moving day to day over the years that it would mean her vagina would be rid of its hymen lining.

Harry went very slowly. He could feel how tight she was but her arousal was drenching him and making it hard not to just pound into her right away. He knew she could take it. Her body was ready. But he didn’t want to startle her or scare her. So he only pushed in as slowly as possible and kept watch of her face.

He pulled himself out to almost the tip and then nudged his thick cock back inside a little deeper this time and she moaned. Harry smiled. She liked it. It felt good.

He repeated his actions a few times, getting a little deeper on each thrust, but still going as slow as possible until she was panting and her eyes were wide.

“How does that feel angel?” Harry breathed his words out.

She lifted her neck and looked down to where he was fucking into her and she nodded before putting her head back down, “So good. It feels really good.”

This was Harry’s cue to begin fucking her properly. Not hard, or fast, but now he could begin thrusting into her at a pace that might get her off. He began to pull back and push in, watching her pussy spread for him and her lips surround his cock with each pull and push. It was wet and the sound was delicious, “Hear that?” Harry said as he slowly pushed in and pulled out, the wet noise of his cock thrusting into her entrance and pulling back was not something she expected. But she could hear the wet noises coming from between their bodies.

She nodded, “Yeah. Is that because I’m so wet for you?”

Harry groaned and smiled, her words were dirty and she didn’t even know it, “That’s exactly what that is my angel. Your little pussy is soaked because she’s so aroused and that makes it easy for my cock to slip right in and out the way you need. Like this…” he demonstrated by pushed into the hilt, and then backing out until he could see his tip before pushing back in, the sticky sound of their bodies coming together.

His cadence increased a small bit and it made her body move on each press inward, her tits softly bouncing at each plunge of his cock. The wet sounds were now met with the sound of Harry’s skin meeting her skin, the soft smacking of their bodies colliding, and the rustle of the blankets below them.

Y/n’s moans began to get louder again like they had when he ate her out and fucked her with his fingers. She felt good and that’s all he wanted. To make her feel good and safe.

“Oh god…” her eyes widened and her pink lips puffed out a heavy breath, “that’s good… so full…” her panted words were music to Harry’s ears. She was feeling what he was feeling and she was saying what she wanted as her brain and body were naturally responding to sex the way it should when it felt good.

“Yeah, baby? Am I stuffing you full? Feels so good doesn’t it?” Harry continued his languid strokes into her, smacking into her gently, continuing to rub her clit softly.

“Yes. Yes… oh yes…” she breathed out in gasps, “So full, so good… mmmm….” She brought her hands down to grasp his thighs where he was working himself into her. She felt his strong muscles under her hands, flexing as he rolled into her.

“You’re made for me, angel. You know that? Gonna make you mine in every way…” he moaned as he rocked into her, imagining her dripping with his come and then becoming pregnant and swollen with his baby.

Y/n nodded and bit her lip as she bucked upward into his thumb and whimpered when Harry couldn’t help himself and he plunged into her a little harder, a little faster.

Now he was smacking into her harder, sending her body upward with each deep stroke. It felt good inside of her. His prick was filling her and rubbing into something inside that felt like rainbows and stars and all things good and right. She couldn’t stop her moans or the noises she was making. Harry was making her feel better than she’d ever felt in her life.

“That’s it, angel… just feel it. Let it take over,” Harry watched her body and her face as he fucked into her a little harder now. He couldn’t help himself but to go in deeper and harder. She was feeling so good around him and she liked it so he knew he could poke deep into her and she’d like it.

Harry continued rubbing over her button and looked down to where they were connected, his cock was wet with her creamy arousal. She’d gotten his groin soaked, down her ass and to the bed below. Harry groaned at the site of his cock moving into her and spreading her apart. He knew his cock was pushing her insides apart, pressing deep into her belly and rubbing over her g-spot on each stroke. Her eyes were almost crossed as her mouth was dropped open with constant mewls and moans falling from her mouth.

“So pretty… look at you, shit…” Harry was losing it. She was clenching and pulsing around him as her legs started to shake slightly.

Harry went in hard now, he couldn’t help it. Now he was acting on primal tendencies to push her over the edge so she could come and so he could come. He wanted to destroy her insides (in the kindest way of course) with his big cock. She was taking him so well and he knew she was so close to coming.

Y/n’s breasts shook and bounced, the sound of the thuds of skin and wetness together with her loud moans could be heard down the hallway of his mansion. He knew his house staff was hearing this but he didn’t care at that moment. He only cared about making Y/n come.

When she clenched hard and he felt her pussy spasm and she cried out his name, “Oh god! Harry! I’m… oh… oh… I’m…” her words were nonsense suddenly as she melted on his cock and spasmed around him, her legs shaking and her world spinning. She grabbed her tits and squeezed for something to hold on to as she gushed over Harry’s cock and he continued fucking into her, giving her the best experience she could have; a nice thick cock pushing into and pulling out of her fluttering walls as she came, her muscles clamping down on him with all she had.

Harry gritted his teeth as he watched his angel coming on his cock as he sunk into her deeply and finally released in his own orgasm, his cum coating her walls and her slick muscles inside as she quivered and cried. His throbbing cock pumped into her, stuffed as far as it could go inside as he groaned and pushed upward, connecting them so fully and deeply that he knew she’d never want anyone else. He’d make sure of that.

When his balls were emptied and everything was poured into her cunt and her breathing began to slow Harry kissed her lips softly and slowly before pulling out of her.

He held her thighs apart and watched as his come dripped from her pussy down over her ass. He scooped up a bit of his liquid and brought it back up to her pussy, rubbing it over her labia and then pushing it back in slowly.

Harry couldn’t get enough of the view. It was so pretty and soft and lewd. Their juices mixed together over her pussy and now inside of her pussy…

“How do you feel?” Harry looked up at Y/n and she was smiling, red in the cheeks, her chest flushed, hair messy, “Happy.”

This made Harry smile. He wanted her happy and feeling good. He smoothed his hands up her hips over her tummy, wrapping them around to her back, and pulled her up and into his arms, “Good. I’m going to make sure you stay that way. Always want you to be happy with me,” he kissed her temple and smiled.

“My good girl.”

The Check-in*

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[moonchildstyles]

ephemere

élan part three: when the night comes crashing down harry is the only one there for y/n.

wordcount: 22k+

cw: descriptions of a panic attack, unwanted advances against our y/n (nothing too intense), and her dad is veryyyy mean in this one

—————

"Good morning!" Dom—(Y/N)'s stylist, and the most important person of the day—sung as he swept through her apartment, a team of people following behind, "We have so much to do today, are you ready?" 

(Y/N) sleepily shut the door behind the last person that trickled in. "Yeah," she yawned, forcing herself to keep her eyes open after the lingering blink she gave. 

Today was early enough already with the fact Harry had come over an hour prior, and now her apartment was full of half a dozen others that were way too happy for the early hour. (To be fair, it was just before ten a.m., but she didn't love to get up any earlier than that when it wasn't a pilates day). 

Tonight was finally the night of the 132 Gala. She'd prepped as much as she could this week—an esthetician visit the other day, waxing studio visit the day before, a touch-up and trial run appointment with her hair stylist earlier in the week—but so much of the process had to be left to the day of. 

"Just yeah?" Dom teased, imitating her sleepy voice, "I thought you'd be excited to see me today." 

"I am, I am," (Y/N) argued, trudging towards him with her sleep shorts rustling against her thighs, "I didn't sleep well last night, but I promise I'm excited. Just a little tired." 

She wasn't lying about her late night, the small hours of the morning having been the only time she managed to sleep. A letter had been sent to her apartment the night before, plaguing her mind a little too deeply. 

It had only been a matter of time, she knew when she saw the official publications posting about her secret rendezvous with Harry at the country club. (Her favorite was the subline on one article, saying that (Y/N) was insisting he was only a bodyguard but how could she resist a body like that? As invasive as it was, it was still rather clever). Now that less real drama was circulating about her, rumors had taken the helm and that seemed to draw her admirer out much more often; less concrete answers seemed to draw them out. They seemed to feel a need to rewrite them to fit a specific mold they had for her, one (Y/N) never really understood the parameters of. It gave her a spike of anxiety in the pit of her stomach now whenever she picked up her mail, worrying that something too heavy to be friendly would be slipped between the bills and other pieces. 

"Well," Dom chirped, clapping his hands together, "We'll just have to make sure no one can tell!" 

With that, the day turned into a bit of a whirlwind. Many of these big events deteriorated into such, too much going on for (Y/N) to properly focus on one thing at a time. 

At least there was a photographer Dom brought along to take photos of the whole process. One more person running around her apartment. 

Her hair was the first thing to be started on, the one thing that was going to take the longest. Ensuring everything was perfect, a wash was made to start the day, plenty of products and serums applied before everything was dried and brushed. The natural texture of her strands was altered, her stylist wrapping them around hot and heavy curlers. Earlier in the week at the trial, extensions were added to her hair, adding to the weight on the top of her head. Though she loved the look it would achieve in the end, everything looking effortlessly glamorous with big curls and draping strands, she almost erupted into a migraine from the tension. 

At least once the rollers were in, though, she caught a break from her hair stylist. Done was all the tugging and pulling from the various hot tools and hairbrushes, now she could just sit there and concentrate on ensuring her scalp didn't throb before she had a chance to feel pretty. 

While the curlers cooled enough to truly curl her hair, her nail tech pulled up a seat beside her. Carlotta was her usual warm self, pleasantly chatting with (Y/N) until a light silence settled between them. Applying and filing her nails were comforting motions, knowing that her set was coming together. It didn't take long for the paint to come out, sparkling pearls to be added to the pastel pink French manicure to match that of her dress. Her fingernails looked every bit like the princess set they had been calling it before Carlotta made her exit for the day, her job done in one go compared to the others that would stick around for final touches.

After a quick break for snacks, her hair was ready to be unraveled and her makeup ready to be applied. The photographer began her closeups then, the camera shuttering as her hair fell in large curls around her face, her makeup artist prepping her skin. Dom periodically checked in, ensuring things were going according to their plan all the while he was coordinating garments and creating problems just to fix them a moment later. Around her, members of the glam team began to pull out their phones, their own cameras trained around the space to document their own experience getting her ready. 

(Y/N) sat quietly in the middle of it all, eyes closing when instructed, head tilting when needed, body still in her silken robe. 

For hours on end, Harry was like a statue in the corner of the room—silent and stoic. When things began to get hectic, Dom tried to kick him out, only for Harry to ignore the attempts and stay right where he was. He wouldn't be going anywhere no matter how hard Dom tried. 

—————

"Everyone out! She needs to get dressed! Everyone out!" 

(Y/N) could see Dom was moments away from ripping his hair out, the time making him more than stressed. Styling her hair took longer than expected, draining an additional half an hour from their prep time. Dom timed things meticulously, the schedule written down to the minute to leave her to be on the carpet at a fashionable time—not too early, not too late. This was going to through everything off, and Dom was already feeling it. 

The second her hair was finally pinned into place, a layer of hairspray going across the strands to keep anything from moving in any direction, he pulled her into her bedroom where she was to be dressed. Everyone was to be shooed out of her space then, Dom directing them with an agitated tone. 

On their way out of the previously quiet room, (Y/N) slipped away from Dom and offered her thanks, hoping they didn't take her stylist's tone too personally. They would still be needed for finishing touches, and she didn't want them stepping out on account of her stylist. Especially since she loved them for their regular services, anyway. 

Quietly padding back to her bedroom before Dom became more agitated, Harry became her ghost once more. 

"I'll wait outside here for you, okay?" Harry murmured, looking at her with a clear gaze as he stopped in the threshold of her bedroom. 

"You don't have to," she told him, lingering in the doorway. She could promise she would be on her best behavior if he needed her to. 

Harry shook his head, a curl falling over his forehead. "I'll be here." 

With that, she was pulled into her bedroom with the help of Dom's assistant, her grip much more delicate than that of the stylist. 

The process of squeezing her into her garments began then. Shapewear and the proper undergarments pulled over her body, her form smoothing with rounded curves. (Y/N) held her breath with every swath of fabric wrapped around her body, more and more of the look piecing together the closer they got. 

"Careful," Dom told her, helping her step into the molten pearl of the Vivienne Westwood dress of her dreams. His assistant held the gown with utmost care, ensuring there was no way there could be a rogue crease or an unwanted footstep on the hem. 

(Y/N) stayed stagnant, allowing them to zip her into the corset. Dom took over as his assistant began to shoot photos, documenting the way the tight corset adhered to her body. The top was tighter than the original fitting, alterations stiffening the boning and pushing her breasts up high on her chest. Her cleavage was deeper than she ever thought it could be, the swells pushed up and almost spilling over the neckline. The body makeup her artist applied sparkled in the lighting, highlighting the soft parts of her body in a sunny glow. The draping of pearls as her sleeves dripped down her biceps, strategically broken strands having been added during alterations to allow another string to hang down the length of her arms. The high slit was just as scandalous as she remembered, a breeze settling over her bare skin. 

She felt gorgeous. 

Glancing in the mirror bolted to the wall across from her, she saw the vision come together. Her hair was perfect, bouncy and full, tickling her collarbones with soft brushes. Her dress glimmered like molten pearl on her body, clinging to every curve and edge. Her makeup glittered in the gentle light, delicate sparkles on her eyelids with soft pinks airbrushed across her cheeks and lips. Everything was dewy and light—she looked like a cross between a celestial body and a mermaid inhabiting the waters of a moonlit lagoon. 

There was a level of giddiness rising in her knowing that there were going to be countless photos of herself dressed this way. For the first time in a really long time, she looked forward to the torrent of cameras and flashes that would be pointed her way on the Gala carpet. 

That serenity didn't last for very long, though, before Dom found another detail to begin to worry over. 

"Where is the purse?" he muttered, voice sharp as he rifled through the bag he brought along with him. 

"The purse?" his assistant, chirped, stepping back once the proper photographer had rejoined them, his camera flashing to catch (Y/N) in a candid moment. 

"Her purse. The purse. The one (Y/N) is supposed to be carrying on the carpet in less than an hour." Dom was seething now. 

"It's not in there?" 

"If it was, I'd have it already," Dom snapped back, his arms almost elbow deep into his endless bag of everything.

The level of chaos in her apartment ratcheted up a notch in that moment. Now was not the time for something like that to go wrong. Not when—as Dom listed out—finishing adjustments to her makeup needed to be made, final touches to her hair, and someone needed to help her put her shoes on so she didn't bend and crease the dress. Not to mention the photoshoot Dom planned on having (Y/N) partake in before she left for the event, photos to be taken for his portfolio. 

"Dom—I can—" 

(Y/N) was quickly cut off as he shook his head, his long hair flying around his face. "No, you are not doing anything! Where is everyone?! We don't have time for this."

His assistant scuttled away then, gathering each of the members of her prep group to accomplish each of the things Dom was beginning to fret over. 

"Henry—Harris—Whatever your name is, can you please help instead of just standing around?!" Dom shouted through the now cracked door of (Y/N)'s bedroom. 

A beat passed before everyone—including Harry—stepped into her room. Carlotta had an extra file in hand, her hair stylist a comb and a bottle of hair spray in his apron pocket, and makeup artist with a gloss in hand. Harry held nothing but a raised brow over the way Dom spoke to him. 

Each of the artists and techs descended upon her then, each quietly assessing what needed to be perfected before they were off. (Y/N) didn't have a chance to see what Dom was commissioning Harry to help with before she had to blink her eyes shut, her makeup artist fluffing a brush of glitter on her eyelids. 

"Find her bag, and someone put her shoes on, please! We won't have time for pictures if we keep this up!" Dom rattled off, "The event is almost over at this point! Where the fuck is her bag?" 

As much as (Y/N) loved Dom, it was moments like these she wondered if the stress of preparing for events was worth it. 

Murmured voices of his assistant and a deep voice (Y/N) thought could be Harry, adding to the chatter of the room. The sound of her door creaking happened before the dull roar finally settled. 

"(Y/N)?" 

Chancing a blink of her eyes open, (Y/N) saw Harry standing before her, just behind her makeup artist, with the box of her Manolo Blahniks in hand. 

He met her gaze over the shoulder of the artist swiping more gloss over her lips, his eyes dropping imperceptibly down to her mouth before ringing back up once more. 

Before he had a chance to say anything, Dom traipsed back in, his cheeks decidedly redder than before. "Help her with her shoes, we need to go!" he shouted, Harry not even bothering to look back. 

He was hesitating—waiting for her permission. There was an unspoken line they'd put in the sand, one that kept each other at arm's length; (Y/N)'s aloofness, and Harry's professionalism the key administers. He wouldn't come any closer if she didn't want him to.

"It's okay," she told him, her makeup artist pausing as her lips moved.

With that, box in hand, Harry wormed his way in-between the various artists and stylists warmed around her. Bending to one knee, he knelt before her with the pristine white box just off to the side. She could feel his eyes on her when he made the first touch, a hand on her ankle. Unwilling to disturb the makeup artist tending to her face, and the stylist primping her hair, (Y/N) wasn't able to meet his eyes despite feeling them trace her face.

The photographer's camera shuttered at a rapid rate, but (Y/N) knew these photos were going to be the kind that stayed in the archive with her. 

His thumb grazed the bone in her ankle as she shifted her weight, helping him slip the first cream colored pump onto her foot. The custom pump had a ring of pearls that were to be attached around her ankle. (Y/N) could feel the brush of Harry's fingers over her skin as he latched the stones around her leg, his touch decidedly more gentle than she could have expected from someone who's entire job centered around the rough use of them. 

"Let me go grab a setting spray, hold on," her makeup artist murmured, dropping her hands from where they were separating her fluffed lashes and diffusing the color on her eyelids. With that, the woman scurried away, leaving (Y/N) the freedom to finally shift her eyes. 

Glancing down, she saw Harry on his knees, a furrow in his brow as he concentrated on helping her balance on the teetering heels. It was like he knew she was watching with the way he peeked up, the fan of his lashes a frame around the green of his eyes. His hand faltered for a split second when she met his gaze. 

The rest of the noise melted away for that moment, (Y/N) only taking in just how delicate the shoes looked in comparison to Harry, how gently he was treating her. How pretty he was. She wondered if Dom had ever considered taking Harry on, prepping him for this event instead; he'd fit right in with the models and celebrities that would be on the carpet. 

Despite her eyes following his movements, (Y/N) hadn't been paying attention when he had finished slipping her shoe on, the pearls latched around her ankle. She teetered where she stood, a slight gasp leaving her lips. 

In an instant, Harry was there, standing to the full of his height in front of her. He steadied her, his grip on her arms firm in his hold but gentle in his touch. 

"Alright?" he asked, gaze skipping down her features for just a moment. 

(Y/N) almost thought he sounded breathless. 

"Yeah," she answered, the word low between the two of them as if there weren't a handful of others around. "Thank you." 

Harry only nodded, his hands lingering for a split second longer before they fell away from where he had them on her biceps. 

In the back of her mind, she could hear the way the photographer seemed to be capturing every second of the interaction. Camera flashes and the lens shuttering added to the chaos. 

The same time Harry was backing away, her makeup artist returned with a glimmering bottle in hand. She was flustered, immediately stepping back into place in front of (Y/N), leaving only a sliver of a view of Harry over her shoulder. 

(Y/N) had her eyes glued to him as he approached the entrance to her bedroom, his previous post having been just outside. She saw as he lingered, his head down as he shifted his weight as if he wasn't sure if he wanted to step forward or step back. His hands clenched and unclenched at his sides. 

"Close your eyes for me," her artist instructed. 

Hesitating before doing so, (Y/N) just barely caught the way Harry seemed to look back at her. 

A loud commotion burst into the room then, (Y/N) flinching where she stood with her eyes closed.

"I found the purse!" 

It took a moment for Dom's voice to register. (Y/N) had completely forgotten about the purse.

—————

(Y/N)'s fingers skipped over the pearls dripping down her arms, keeping her gaze forward as they rushed through the New York streets. Beside her, Harry had changed into an all black suit while she was commandeered for photographs at Dom's request. He kept his gaze solely stretched out the window. He hadn't looked at her since that moment in her bedroom, the space between them on the bench seat just a hair larger. 

"When would you like me to come for you?" Sully asked, breaking (Y/N) from her over-analysis of how many inches of space was supposed between two people in a working relationship that had also shared a somewhat intimate moment just an hour earlier. At least, (Y/N) thought it was intimate. 

She recrossed her legs, shifting in her seat. "Um, I'm not sure," she murmured, noting the way Harry didn't break his staring contest with the window even at this disturbance, "I don't want to say too long, but Francesca will probably want to go to an afterparty." 

"Okay, just give me a call about thirty minutes before you're ready. I'll make it as soon as possible, but you know how these places can be." 

A smile stretched across her glossy lips as she nodded her head. "Got it. Thank you." 

She wondered if Harry knew how many shades of green were in his eyes, if he saw the same tiny blonde hairs threaded through his dark curls that she did. She wondered if he knew how gorgeous he was. She hoped he didn't know that she was still thinking about the way he looked up at her when he was on his knees before.

Despite the sun having set and sunk below the horizon, the city was still bright outside the windows. (Y/N) wondered how many of the other vehicles passing around them were also heading to the Gala. 

Peering through the front windscreen, the gallery came into view. The large building that was usually splashed in black and white with 132 on the front in primary colors, had been transformed to allow a tent to be set up up front, shielding the public from the massive red carpet laid out underneath. From here, she could spot the overflow of people, bright lights shining from under the white tent. At least a fourth of that light had to be from the crowd of photographers and publications that had made it inside the event. 

Coming to a smooth stop in front of the event, Sully put them in park but didn't make any move to usher her out. From the curb, she could see those set up along the carpet, ready for interviews or photos. She could even see Francesca towards the end, nearest to the entrance. 

Her fiddling with the pearls of her dress resumed, anxiety spiking. Her crossed leg swung. 

For the first time since leaving her apartment, Harry turned to look at her. His eyes stayed fixed to her face, not daring to skate anywhere else on her body. 

"Ready?" 

A faux-natural smile tugged at the corner of her lips. "Mhm," she hummed, glancing at Sully through the rearview. It was too crowded for him to help her out of the car as usual, she knew that. She would have to settle for a smile through the rearview to settle her through the night. "See you soon?" 

"See you soon, sweetheart," he confirmed, his eyes gentle as he met them through the glass. 

With that, Harry took his leave first, scooting out of the car with her small purse in tow before reaching back inside to offer her a helping hand out. It felt like a movie the way she could hear the snapping of cameras and dull roar from the event. The shadows around him lengthened, backlit by the fluorescent bulbs. 

Rubbing her glossy lips together, she put her hand in his and followed him out onto the sidewalk. 

Harry was dropped into his element then second they were faced with the budding crowd waiting to be herded onto the carpet. He had to have been familiar with events like these as he let go of her hand only to place his palm on her upper back, ushering her through the bodies. It was a form of a greenroom that was waiting at the entrance of the carpet, another tent with event coordinators ensuring pacing out the carpet. He didn't let her stop even as some familiar faces gave her small greetings. 

Dipping his head down, (Y/N) could feel the tip of his nose brush the draping strands of hair by her ear. "'M going to stay a step behind you the whole time, okay? If at any point you want to be done, jus' look at me and we'll go. I'll be with you." 

Drawing away just enough to match his gaze, there was that earnest intensity she'd seen only once before at the pilates studio. 

"Okay," she said, giving her head a minute no, unwilling to remove her gaze from his. 

With one final push towards the head of the line, (Y/N) could spot the event coordinators clustered around the entrance, earpieces in and tablets at their chests. She watched as they ushered someone onto the carpet—a model she remembered from a trip to Milan, but couldn't place his name—cameras flashing the second he made it to the first pose point. 

Harry's hand was a warm weight on her back, grounding her as she forced herself not to pick at her nails or fiddle with her dress as she attempted to sike herself up for her own upcoming turn. From the corner of her eye, she saw one of the familiar coordinators perk up when he spotted her, one of the ones that had been assisting the event for the last handful of years. The coordinator—Monty—brought the lapel of his blazer to his mouth, muttering something into the covert microphone, before (Y/N) felt extra eyes on her. 

With a bright smile on his face, Monty pushed their way through the clusters of people, stopping right by she and Harry. 

"Ms. (Y/N), how are you this evening? You look gorgeous," Monty greeted her, his eyes obviously shifting from her gown to the petite pearl bag in Harry's hands. His brow raised just that much more at the sight. 

"Thank you so much, Monty," she bubbled, knowing the version of herself he would be expecting and slipping into that role, "How are you? Busy, I'm sure." 

"You have no idea," he exaggerated, the words ending with a boisterous laugh (Y/N) joined in on. "Are you ready to walk?" 

"As ready as I can be," (Y/N) offered, shaking her head as she gestured down to her shoes, "Didn't get a chance to break in my shoes at all, and you know how the Vivienne corsets can be." 

"We'll get you through as fast as possible, then," Monty laughed, smiling a little too bright, "You know, when we got your RSVP, we made sure to stock the bar extra just for you." 

It was meant to be a joke, she knew that, a rib at the way she was apparently always drunk whenever she went out. She was sure it was supposed to be something meant to entice her into being that much more excited to get the carpet over. Nonetheless, she couldn't help the way she wanted to roll her eyes and huff a sigh. 

Still, she laughed along, leaning forward as if she were doubling over in laughter. The photographers ate it up. "You know me so well," she told Monty, taking in a deep breath, "Thank you." 

Casting a look towards the carpet, Monty double checked his tablet before he looked at her with a mild smile. "Ready to go?" 

Following his gaze, the patrons in front of her had dwindled down to none, leaving her the next on the chopping block.

Feeling a tad bit stiff after the last interaction, (Y/N) still nodded her head. "Of course." 

Harry was a silent pillar beside her as they followed after Monty. She wished she knew what he was thinking. 

A beat passed, Monty waiting for a cue, then he looked to (Y/N) with that practiced smile. "Go ahead, Ms. (Y/N). I'll see you in there." 

(Y/N) waved her goodbye, stepping carefully into the mouth of the event, the carpet shifting under her feet into something luxurious and soft. At her back, Harry stepped up.

"I'll be right behind you," he murmured, a quiet reminder, before the chaos erupted. 

No doubt the media recognized who was at her back, cameras fluttering with flashes burning her gaze. She smiled effortlessly, stopping to pose and look in whatever direction she was called. She stood out against the stark white and deep black of the carpet, the attendees meant to be the color in the gallery for the night. Around her, others were posted up giving their own poses to the cameras facing them, some having brought friends or dates to chat with in between. 

(Y/N) hoped she would see Francesca or Emma soon. 

Traipsing through the carpet, (Y/N) stopped and pose at ever juncture instructed, blowing kisses and showing off her gown at every stop. As nervous as she was to have so many eyes on her—many wanting some kind of slip up to be able to report on—it couldn't knock how excited she was to have herself immortalized in a look like this. That couldn't take away how pretty she felt. 

Harry was a silent soldier behind her, never wavering as the hall had shouting photographers, shuttering cameras, and chatter from the various attendees. He followed her carefully, a delicate pink bag hanging from his hands that were clasped at his front. He stayed far enough away to ensure every shot only captured her, but close enough she could turn to face him and give him whatever signal was needed to get out of there. 

Going down the carpet, (Y/N) grew used to the feel of eyes all over her, beginning to revel in the way her body and look was being appreciated by the attendees. While she didn't love the sound of her name being shouted across the carpet, she didn't mind when it meant she was going to be posing for a photo that she would be happy to see floating around the internet. 

Scaling the plush staircase trailing further down the carpet, the mass of the photographers thinned leaving only a few here and there to snap the final photos before guests were led into the gallery, with a few publications waiting for a moment to catch an interview. Scanning the few, (Y/N) tried to spot the one interview she was scheduled to make for the night. 

Catching sight of a bright blonde head of hair, (Y/N) inched towards her hoping the woman was who she thought it was. It took a moment for the interviewer to turn around, the strands of ultra straight blonde hair fanned around her familiar face. Relief hit (Y/N), then—she didn't have to stand in the middle of everything hoping someone noticed her and gave direction.

"Hi, (Y/N), how are you?" The interviewer, Gwen, greeted her with a bright smile, leaning over to give her a light hug around their immaculate gowns. 

Noting the camera that was definitely still recording, (Y/N) ensured her own tabloid smile was fixed to her face, her voice pitched and pleasant. "I'm doing well, thank you! You look amazing, Gwen," (Y/N) bubbled, stepping back to admire the embellishments on the gown. 

She wasn't surprised, really. Gwen was the yearly reporter for the major fashion magazine that sponsored half of the attendees at the event. They were one of the few legitimate publications that printed stories about her and reached out for articles about her looks or to be featured in segments on their website—even if there were hate comments flooded on her features. 

Starting off like the rest of the interviews that had been conducted that night, Gwen asked who she was wearing and rattled off questions about the inspiration behind her gown. (Y/N) answered pleasantly, attributing everything to the collaborative effort with her stylist and the handful of others that helped her prep for the night. Standing just off camera, Harry stayed back but she could feel his eyes on her as she spoke with Gwen. 

More than once did Gwen's eyes shift from where (Y/N) stood, peeking over her shoulder to find her bodyguard. (Y/N) hated to think what she might be assuming at that moment, the kinds of questions that might be swirling. Tomorrow, when all of the analyses of this moment were circulated through the public, she was sure people would assume that there was something more going on in the moment, that Harry was doing something just off screen that would somehow confirm that he was her affair partner and secret boyfriend. 

"But, yeah, we wanted something classic for the hair, but it definitely took a lot more time to get there than it looks," (Y/N) ended, brushing those stray strands out of her face. 

Waiting for the next question to come, (Y/N) saw the way Gwen tossed a glance towards the producer that was standing behind the camera. Something was exchanged in that look.

Keeping the energy up, Gwen turned back to (Y/N) with her practiced smile. "While I have you here, (Y/N), we do have to ask," she said, lowering her head with a glint in her eye as if she were just a girl friend gossiping over brunch, "We see you've brought a guest with you tonight, can you share with us who that is?" 

She was definitely fishing, trying to glean something out of the interaction. Even magazines like this couldn't be completely free from rumors and gossip, she guessed. 

Staying in character, bubbly and bright, (Y/N) looked behind her with a giggle. (Another scene that was going to be overanalyzed, edited and clipped to show the "truth"). Waving to him to step forward, she hoped Harry would play along for just a couple of minutes. Hesitant, Harry took a careful step forward, inching into the view of the camera with her purse swinging in his grip. 

"This is Harry," she bubbled off, gesturing to him as he gave a reserved smile to the camera before tipping his head down so as to not garner any more attention, "I know he's been pictured with me a lot recently, but he's just my bodyguard. I think there's been a few different stories floating around, but that's the truth."

Gwen paused for a second, certainly rattled by the soft denial she was given for details. In an attempt to recover from the fishing, she joked, "And, is that your purse or his he's got?" 

"His, but he let me borrow it for the night," (Y/N) played along, hoping Harry wouldn't mind taking ownership over the mini beaded bag in his grip. 

Gwen joined in her laughter, sounding a little more than exaggerated with the way she reached out to grab (Y/N)'s arm as if to steady herself. 

"Well," she started once recovering, "it was so much fun talking with you, (Y/N). We'll see you inside." 

"I'll see you inside, Gwen," (Y/N) reciprocated, giving another small hug as a goodbye. 

"Hopefully, we'll both be at the same afterparty—I'd love a chance to see you let loose," Gwen laughed.

"Right," (Y/N) answered with a peal of laughter, stepping out with a wave as Gwen's next interviewee was set to step up to the plate. 

Taking in a deep breath and shaking out her hands, (Y/N) was grateful to be out of view of any cameras. Only a stitch remained off the carpet before she would be ushered into the event, but there was a moment of reprieve in this moment.

Close behind, Harry stepped up beside her, his eyes clear when he matched hers. "Alright?" 

"Yeah," she breathed, fluttering her lashes with a shake of her head to get the stray hairs from her updo out of her face, "I didn't expect anyone to ask about that. Sorry." 

"'S okay," he murmured, scanning over her features, "Want to wait a second before we go in?"

(Y/N) nodded her head with a mumbled yeah. Harry didn't push her as she lingered in that space in-between, allowing her space as she calmed her rattled nerves. It wasn't until she heard the sound of others approaching, more people to clock her with her shaking hands and stressed demeanor, that she decided she was ready to move on. 

"Let's go," she murmured, eyes downcast as she spared a few more moments before she was to be on again. 

"Y'sure?" Harry checked, reaching his hand out to hover between her shoulder blades. All he needed was the reaffirming nod from her before he was helping to usher her inside. 

The hosts of the event were the first to greet her as they stepped into the gallery, familiar faces (Y/N) had seen year after year. Harry's hand on her back was warm and weighty, keeping her on track as he took the blame to usher her through the interactions as soon as she received their seating tickets and were wished a good evening. She was grateful for him getting her through, still feeling a little bit too exposed after that interview. 

Entering into the gallery space that had been renovated for the event to feature round dinner tables and a stage for the hosts and donors to be honored for the night. Matching the carpet out front, everything was left as black and white, the guests being the splashes of color as if they were the artworks for the night. The decor came in the same monotone hues only the cocktails and drinks breaking up the greys on the table. 

"Did they seat you with me?" (Y/N) asked, passing Harry his ticket for the night. 

Giving the paper a small glance, Harry kept most of his attention on getting her through the clusters of people standing about. "Think so," he murmured, a furrow on his brow. 

Peering over the large curls on her head, Harry guided her through, finding their table. Lucky for her, despite being a bit later than she had scheduled, her father and his associates hadn't arrived yet. That allowed her to peek at the seating chart, lips thinning when she saw she'd be at her father's side through the night. 

"Can I have my bag?" (Y/N) asked, looking at Harry just a step behind her. He didn't hesitate to pass off her tiny purse. Still embarrassed by what happened on the carpet and thinking about the dull way he confirmed he'd been seated next to her, (Y/N) bit at her bottom lip before turning towards him. "It's okay if you don't want to stay tonight. I know this stuff is really boring, so if you'd rather—" 

"No. We've been over this," Harry said, his voice stern as he matched her gaze, "Wherever you are, I am." 

While she knew this was all a part of his job—his following of her, his determination—there was something that bubbled behind her ribs. Even if there was no other reason he would spend time with her, at least there was someone always at her side; she wasn't going to be alone in these moments as long as Harry was there. 

"Okay," she nodded, biting back a smile. Peeking over his shoulder, (Y/N) spotted Emma and Francesca settled around their own table, chatting away while others breezed past their table with small greetings. "I think I'm going to go talk to my friends before my dad gets here, but you can go get a drink or something if you want. If anyone asks for any payment or anything, just say it's on me." 

While she knew there was a high possibility that he wasn't going to take her up on the offer, he only nodded at her before she was sending off towards the girls. 

Growing closer to their court, (Y/N) could see Stavros at Emma's side, with Francesca thankfully alone—it was always a good day when she didn't bring some billionaire or to come hang out in hopes of commandeering his yacht for the weekend. They had leaned close together, chatting over the table while Stavros absently stroked his hand up and down Emma's arm, his gaze shimmering as he gazed at her profile. 

Franny was the first to spot her approach, her gaze lifting and posture straightening. "(Y/N)!" she cheered, Emma turning in her seat with a matching smile, "You finally made it!" 

"You look gorgeous," Emma gushed, her own glimmering dress surely a Stavros original.

"Thank you," (Y/N) smiled, taking a free chair at Emma's side to slip into the conversation, "You guys look so pretty, too." 

At that, Emma couldn't seem to help herself before launching into the origin story of her dress, introducing Stavros and his genius mind as the one behind her high couture sheath dress. Francesca had clearly already heard this tale, her gaze checked out as she pulled her phone from her purse. 

"Did you bring anyone, (Y/N)?" Emma pressed, no doubt having already seen Harry at her table and fishing for more information. 

Shaking her head, (Y/N) felt the ends of her hair tickling her collarbones. "No, just Harry." 

"Just Harry?" 

A smile spread across her cheeks at Emma's prodding. "Just Harry," she parroted, unwavering despite Emma's tease. Turning to Francesca, (Y/N) shifted the conversation, "Has your mom called again since she visited?" 

It only took a roll of Fran's eyes to tell (Y/N) everything she needed to know. "It's not if she's called, it's how many times." 

With that Francesca started on the epic that was the amount of phone calls, FaceTimes, and voicemails left on her phone with her mom still insistent that being a gallery owner is all her daughter could ever want. Following along and allowing her laughter to flow freely, (Y/N) slipped into herself as she sat with her friends. Seeing the event photographer fluttering about the tables, she was grateful that this moment could be forever immortalized—a time she felt like herself with her best friends. 

Unfortunately, also from her peripheral, she could spot her father and his friends having seated themselves at their table. His showmanship in terms of his boisterous laughter that had to be at a volume just higher than the rest of the crowd was what gave him away. Harry was also seated though he was decidedly less interested in the conversation than the rest of the table, his gaze shifting to where she sat more often than not. 

(Y/N) couldn't help but to scoot in further to her borrowed table, despite knowing that she was only pushing off the inevitable. She was going to have to speak to her father anyway, especially with her place setting residing next to him. Nonetheless, she preferred to put it off as long as possible. She was having a good time at this point, no reason to cut it short.

Being spared only a handful more minutes, (Y/N) knew she couldn't steal this spot forever when she saw one of the hosts start making rounds before edging towards the stage. She was sure the rightful owner of this spot was waiting for her to leave, anyway.

Finding a pause in the conversation, she began to stand with a careful hand ensuring the slit in her dress didn't open too wide. "I'd better go sit down, guys. I think everything's starting soon."

Francesca gave her a pout. "You'll come see us after dinner?" 

"Of course; you think I'm going to stay over there all night?" 

Both Fran and Emma let out a laugh, Stavros awkwardly joining in despite most likely needing a translation of what she said from his girlfriend. 

Sharing quiet goodbyes, (Y/N) pasted a smile on her face as she made her way back to her own table. At some point she must not have caught, Harry had gotten up and was now returning with a couple of glasses of water in his hands. She watched as he placed them beside their individual plates then took the spot beside her father. A pinch took her brow. 

Their table was full of exclusively her father's friends: two men she recognized from the country club, one of their wives, and Harry. The rearrangement would leave her to sit between Harry and the man's wife, a step removed from her father. Not that she was complaining, though. 

Without missing a step, (Y/N) approached the round table with her hands folded in front of her, tiny bag on her wrist. The sound of her heels clacking over the floor was muffled under the dull roar of the chattering ballroom. 

Silently, she took her rearranged spot. Scooting in, no one acknowledged her, her father instead holding court as usual. At least here, he was one of many important fish, so she didn't have to deal with people fawning over his facade. 

Peering at the name cards she had spotted before, (Y/N) saw her's and Harry's cards had been swapped. Harry had been stationed at the table the whole time, she couldn't imagine anyone had a moment—even her father—to move the places around without him noticing.

Eventually, just as she was about to pull out her phone and do anything to entertain herself, she heard her name come from her father's mouth. "You look nice, sweetie" he complimented, his investor meeting smile lighting up his features. 

"Thank you," she answered, her own features arranged in a practiced expression, "You look nice, too." 

Just like that, he moved on, replacing his attention to now land on Harry. It was a replay of the day at the country club, another round of praises being offered to her "handler" and all the amazing work he's done for (Y/N). Tuning it all out, she instead focused on the ice in her water glass, smiling when she heard a laugh around the table and zoning out otherwise. 

It wasn't until there was another joke made at (Y/N)'s expense, that she was brought back to the surface with a discreet brush of a hand against her knee. Blinking back into the moment, she saw Harry looking at her, ignoring whatever else was going on.

"Alright?" he murmured, eyes flittering about her features, "Do y'want me to get you a drink?" 

The beginnings of a smile touched at the corner of her lips, her mouth going lopsided with her lipgloss glittering in the light. "I'm okay, but thank you," she muttered. 

If she was being honest, she was on the brighter side of okay in that second. It was nice seeing someone ignore her dad for once and offer her some attention. 

Harry only gave her a quiet nod before seamlessly slipping back into the conversation. Her attention followed him, watching the way he interacted very differently than only a couple weeks prior at the country club. 

He was stiff in where he sat, features closer to a flat mask than the more languid expressions she was used to seeing him give her father. His jaw was tight, his forearms coming to rest on the lip of the table, his hands an inflexible bundle over the fine china of his plate. He was taking up space, shoulders broad and eyes solid. Following his line of sight, she saw him fixed on the man sitting at her father's other side. 

(Y/N) only recognized him from the country club, specifically during her last visit a couple of weeks back. He wasn't notable by any means, but he was one of the couple that spared her a lingering glance even when her father was promoting Harry to the rest of the table. 

Maybe, he was the reason Harry was in such a rotten mood when he met her in the maze. One of the few times she wished she had stuck around her father's drinking table, if only to know why Harry was insistent on shooting this man daggers. 

"Right, Harry?" her father jested, most likely looking for Harry's confirmation to a deprecating joke at (Y/N)'s expense. 

Blinking in the direction of the man, Harry barely spared a glance to her father. 

"Right," he deadpanned. 

It was the expression on her father's face, obviously thrown off by the lack of enthusiasm on Harry's part, that had her hiding her smile behind a sip from her glass of ice water.

Perhaps this dinner wouldn't be so bad.

—————

With dinner plates cleared and trays of mini desserts being distributed throughout the room, (Y/N) took her first chance at escape. 

Others had started milling about, socializing with drinks in hand before the afterparties that would no doubt last well into the night. It was easy to slip within the masses, the wife of one of her father's friends being one of the only that could have spotted her disappearance. The men at the table were too distracted to even acknowledge her mumbled excusal to go to the restroom—including Harry, even if half of his attention was still placed on the sharp looks he was giving to the man across from him.

Emma and Francesca happily welcomed her back to their table, a couple of other girls they occasionally clubbed with also having pulled up a chair. From where she sat, she could still spot her father's table, his back facing her. She was able to relax then, feeling comfortable around her friends, even when she spotted the photographer from earlier meandering through the tables once more with the camera to his eye. 

They bubbled over the surprise performance over dinner, an impromptu concert from one of the celebrities in attendance, with (Y/N) hoping they ended up at the same afterparty as her so she could get a chance to ask who designed her gown. Francesca shared the person she now had her eyes on, a man she recognized from touring galleries with her mom who was now seated only a few tables away. He was an artist, she decided, way more romantic than any guy with a yacht. Emma and Stavros were very much ready to head to the afterparties with the way they could barely finish a sentence before sealing their lips together. 

"I'm going to go get a drink, do you guys want anything?" (Y/N) asked, standing from her spot with her tiny purse hanging from her wrist. 

Chatters of denial spread over the table, many of the girls having their own drinks or refraining until the afterparties. (Y/N) shot them a smile before turning on her heel and making her way towards the bar. 

The bartender was busy lacing together elaborate themed cocktails for the string of other patrons waiting, leaving (Y/N) to lean against the counter, arms folded on the bartop. She watched the show, enthralled with the mixing of ingredients while in wait. 

Suddenly, she felt a hand touch the small of her back, the boning of her corset stiffening against her skin. (Y/N) jumped where she stood, her breath coming up short. Turning to face whoever spooked her, she recoiled when she saw it was the man that Harry had been shooting daggers at across the table. 

He didn't even look at her as he flagged down the bartender, raising his voice to call across the long bar. (Y/N) stood there, her brain a little too muddled as she watched him speak over her to order a duo of drinks. 

All of her father's friends sucked, but never once has any of them so blatantly disrespected her in public like this. He couldn't wait a few more minutes to get his whiskey and gin and tonic? 

(Y/N) started to pull away then, shaking off his hand as she slunk away from his hovering body. He didn't let her get very far, his hand flexing on her back as he stepped along with her. 

"Sorry, I didn't mean to scare you," he said, a megawatt smile on his face, "I saw you standing here alone and figured it was my chance to finally talk to you." 

"Oh," she sounded, unsure of what to say. More than anything at the moment, she was now annoyed that there was another order before hers, just wanting her cranberry juice-heavy cosmo in her hand. 

"I'm Barron," he told her, dipping his head down as if it was loud enough he needed to whisper in her ear. 

"Nice to meet you," she smiled, her expression practiced, "I'm (Y/N)." 

"I know," he flirted. (Y/N) swore her eye could have twitched.

Just in time, the bartender reached over with a whiskey on the rocks and a crystalline gin and tonic. "Here you are, sir," the bartender smiled, placing both drinks on coasters in front of Barron.

Thankfully, he removed his hand from her back to lean across the bar, relaying the tab information, his voice a little too boastful when spelling out his last name. (Y/N) felt she could breathe easier almost as soon as his hand left her form. Now was her chance: order her drink, and get back to her girls as soon as possible. 

Instead, she saw as the bartender stepped away, relaying back to his previous customers as Barron passed the gin and tonic towards (Y/N). "Here you go, sweetheart." 

Though she was startled, (Y/N) kept her practiced smile on as she stepped back just enough. "No, thank you. I was actu—" 

"I insist," he cut her off, speaking above her with another push of the drink and coaster towards her. His hand returned to her back, caging her in with her front still against the bar. This time, he pressed his palm against the bare skin of her back, his fingers dipping low underneath the scoop of her corset. Unpleasant goosebumps erupted over her skin. "Your dad said you would need someone to keep an eye on you tonight, and I can see your bodyguard is a little busy at the moment. I can take care of this for you instead." 

Her jaw felt tight. Peering over his shoulder, she was able to spot Harry sat with his back facing the bar, just as she left him with her father. 

"Well," she started, chest expanding as she pulled in a deep breath, "Thank you for the drink. My friends are waiting for me, but it was nice to actually meet you." 

Expecting his hand to fall from her, (Y/N) attempted to make her exit. Instead she was offered a stronger grip, his arm a bar across her back. "At least let me talk to you," he laughed, as if he couldn't believe she was trying to slip away, "I got you a drink, I think that's only fair, right?" 

"Oh, I mean," she floundered, reciprocating with a polite laugh, "I should probably get back, though. After I got a drink we were planning on leaving for some afterparties, so." 

He barked out a laugh, bringing his whiskey to his lips as he took in a deep sip. The ice clinked within the glass as she shook his head. "You know, your dad did say you were a bit feisty, but I didn't think you'd be like this." 

Shifting her weight, (Y/N) would have done next to anything to crawl away from this moment. She didn't like the idea of him asking about her to her father; she dreaded to think what kind of stories were told or publications discussed that could have brought up the topic of her being "feisty". 

From the corner of her eye, she spotted the photographer meandering close by. All it would take was a slight struggle, a slight raising of voices, and that camera would no doubt be up to his eye with a high definition photo of the moment splashed across the internet by the end of the night. That wasn't even taking into account the amount of cell phones around the room that could be trained in their direction in a moment's notice. 

As annoying as this man was and how much she was itching to leave her skin over his touch, fighting him further wasn't going to be worth the scene it would cause. Especially not with her father right there; it would be too easy for this man—his friend—to turn this whole thing around on her without any argument from her father. 

All she could do was hope Francesca or any of the other girls noticed she was missing for longer than it could possibly take to grab a drink. 

"Come sit with me," Barron commanded, urging her to roll underneath his arm so he could guide her to a nearby table with vacant chairs. Swallowing, (Y/N) followed along, her smile tight. "Don't forget your drink." 

Her smile grew that much tighter over his words. 

The chilled glass was slick against her palm. 

Barron pushed her into a seat, his hand finally leaving her skin and leaving an overly hot point on her body. Sinking into her chair, (Y/N) tried to create as much space as she could between them, even with the way he leant across the space to enter her bubble. Her hand clenched around the gin and tonic glass. 

"See, not so bad, is it?" Barron teased, taking another sip of his quickly draining glass. 

"Right," (Y/N) let out a humorless laugh, "So, how do you know my dad?" 

This was a trick she learned to get these men off her back. They loved nothing more than to talk about themselves and the things they thought deemed them important. Barron seemed all too excited to talk about his business prowess that led him to her father's "inner circle", surely exaggerating the amount of acquisitions he headed to get him where he was. 

"But, I can't lie," he said, lowering his voice and smirking at her, "I told him I wanted to meet you a month ago, and we've started talking a lot more since. He told me you were having some troubles, and I had a feeling I might be able to help you." 

Reaching across, Barron settled his too warm hand on her knee, his fingertips denting into the soft flesh of her thigh. 

(Y/N) felt her chest tighten at the touch, the way he looked at her over the rim of his glass, as if he were doing her a favor. She was sure he thought she should be grateful to feel his hand on her skin, like this was the first step to getting her through her troubles. 

Her grip around her glass tightened. 

What was she supposed to do now?

She felt trapped. He scooted closer to her over the floor, his hand sliding over her thigh. He even stuck his foot out, playing footsie as if she looked open to flirting. 

Swallowing, she let out a strained laugh, bringing her glass to her lips for no other reason than to buy herself a moment's reprieve. 

She couldn't decipher what would be worse: staying in this situation or causing a scene that would no doubt have her father locking her down in a remote cabin for the winter? 

With the amount of cameras in the room, if she flipped the way her bubbling anxiety urged her to, there was no doubt the last vestiges of her reputation would be burned to the ground. Everything was bad enough already, but there would be no recovery from a documented outburst like the one she could feel brewing. 

A forced laugh fell from her lips, "I guess you could say that." Glancing through the room, she tried to spot Harry. Maybe, he had miraculously turned around and could see what was happening. If she caught his eye, he could put a stop to this. 

He told her all she needed was to look at him, and he would be right there. He could take her away from this. He told her—promised her.

Suddenly, she felt that overly-hot hand that had been on her leg pinch her chin. Barron redirected her strayed attention, forcing her to look right at his smug face. 

"Eyes on me when I'm speaking, babygirl. It's respectful." 

If not for the fact she was close to having an anxiety attack, (Y/N) could only imagine the amount of rage she would feel at his condescending words. 

Instead, all she could feel was his hand too close to her throat, the absolute view of his eyes he was forcing on her. Her skin felt too hot, though she swore goosebumps were rising. Her stomach churned, the corset feeling way too tight around her lungs. 

"Sorry," she swallowed, almost choking around the word though she could tell he didn't even notice. 

In as casual of a way as she could muster, she pushed his hand off of her chin, disguising it as a move to flip her hair over her shoulder. Barron instead settles his hand on her shoulder, fingering the pearls draping over her skin. 

"Good," he said, seemingly pleased with her feigned obedience, "I want to hear about you, though." 

"What do you want to know?" she forced out through a high smile. 

Her heart jumped into her throat, clogging her airways with every brush of his fingers over her skin. She was on the verge of a panic attack. 

One of the only times she ever would have wanted a bodyguard and he's not even here. If her father could shut up for two seconds, Harry could have done the job he was hired for. 

Instead, (Y/N) was left with a pit in her stomach, something that she swore could eat through her dress and absorb her as if it were nothing. How was she supposed to breathe when her organs had to make way for the blackhole in her stomach? How was she supposed to think clearly when her instincts urged her to move along, with nothing else managing to make an impression on her brain? 

This man was pushing her too far. He was touching her too much, looking at her too closely, talking too loudly. 

She needed him to stop. She could barely feel her hands, her toes, her lips. No amount of air in her lungs was enough. 

(Y/N) hadn't even realized Barron was talking until his voice was cut off. A decidedly gentler hand settled on her opposing shoulder. 

"There you are!" Francesca greeted, bending down to (Y/N)'s level with her eyes widening just enough when she made eye contact, "I'm about to head to the bathroom, could you come with me?" 

Without a second thought, (Y/N) released her chokehold grip on the gin and tonic, looking Barron in the eye as she took in the first semi-normal breath in the last handful of minutes. "Sorry, I'll be right back." 

Francesca took (Y/N)'s hand in her own, scurrying to the bathroom in record time. Stepping over the tile floor of the single stall restroom, (Y/N) felt a tingle in her hands, her gaze unable to focus while Francesca locked the door behind them. 

"Hey, what's going on?" Fran questioned, stepping behind her with a cautious hand on her shoulder. "Are you okay?" 

All it took was a flutter of (Y/N)'s lashes and a stuttered breath before everything she was holding back spilled over. A whimper sliced from her throat, her vision blurring. 

"(Y/N)?" 

Spinning on her heel, she couldn't help the way she braced herself against her best friend, Francesca collecting her into a hug as if she might collapse at a moment's notice. 

"I-I don't know," (Y/N) cried, tears slipping down her cheeks, "I—Fran—I'm—Thank you." 

Nothing falling from her lips made much sense, everything too mushy and half-baked as she sputtered. She didn't know how to articulate how uncomfortable Barron was making her feel; how much she wanted to crawl out of her skin, how she felt trapped, how she knew what he did wasn't all that bad—even compared to her own experiences—but she swore she hadn't felt so unsafe since that night with Damien Moore. How was she supposed to get all of that out between gasping breaths and tingling lips? 

Francesca was her pillar at the moment, keeping (Y/N) upright as she held her. "Okay, it's okay," she tried to soothe her, despite her own voice wavering, "I didn't even know, (Y/N). I'm sorry. I would have helped you sooner, if I had." 

"It's okay, it's okay," (Y/N) parroted, sniffling, "I-I think my dad told him to talk to me." 

Francesca muttered something under her breath, which sounded a lot like a string of curse words though (Y/N) hoped it was actually a hex against her father. 

After tightening her hug, Francesca began to pull away from (Y/N)'s melting form. "I'm going to be right back," she told her earnestly, "I'm going to grab my bag and call my driver, and we're going to leave, okay? Your dad isn't even going to know." 

"Okay, okay," (Y/N) repeated in a broken voice, nodding her head, "Thank you." 

Francesca left with a concerned look over her shoulder. 

Circling the drain, (Y/N) couldn't stop pacing around the bathroom, the clack of her heels echoing in her ears. Her mind was running way too fast to keep up. There was no focus she could give to anything when she swore her corset was strangling her. The spots that Barron's slimy hands touched her dirty, gross and sticky in a way only the longest shower could hope to erase. Her head was too muddy, swimming too far away, for anything to make sense.

Striking through it all, she remembered her father was out there. 

God, she was going to be in so much trouble. There was no way she could talk herself out of this one, and with how fragile she felt at the moment, she couldn't imagine making it through a scolding of his like she usually did. Not like this. 

What if he blamed Harry, even? What if Harry was roped into her orbit of trouble, being blamed for the fact she had a breakdown in one of the most inconvenient places? Her father would no doubt reject the fact that he was the reason behind Harry's distraction.

The idea made (Y/N) crumble that much more. These were her problems, and now Harry might be held accountable for the fact she couldn't suck it up over a couple of lingering touches and condescending words. As if she didn't know how to handle it already. 

Memories of this man's hands on her body—along with a quick montage of others in his place before, including Damien Moore—were a thick ocean in (Y/N)'s head. The illusions were only cut with the scolds of her father, lists of things she'd done wrong and could never recover from. 

Through the depths, she could hear distant voices. They were having a muffled argument on the other side of the door, that much she could collect. Every other detail was lost at sea, (Y/N) too busy crumbling by the sink with her breathing too short to be good for her health. 

Suddenly, the voices were much closer, a firm tone telling their partner that "I need to see her, let me in!" She knew she recognized that voice, that firm tone and grumbling accent. (Y/N) knew who was on the other side of the door, but nothing could properly register in her head. 

The door burst open a second later (or it could have been a handful of minutes, time wasn't real in the moment to her). Both Harry and Francesca tumbled through, Harry's brow furrowed and eyes hard while Fran's were boiling in anger. 

"(Y/N), I tried to tell him to—" 

Francesca's voice filtered through the bathroom, though (Y/N) only saw the way Harry assessed the situation. His cool demeanor never wavered as he catalogued the crumbling mess that made her up. The only thing that gave away the fact that this was out of the norm of his routine was the furrow to his brows and determination setting his jaw. 

Taking broad steps over the tile, Harry met her by the sink, his hands gathering hers from where they were fumbling and picking at her middle. 

"Hey, hey," he murmured, his voice somehow louder to her than Francesca's in the background of the moment, "Why aren't y'breathing, (Y/N)? What's going on?" 

"I-I want to leave, Harry, I don't want to be here anymore," she rushed out, her tongue tripping over itself with salty tears traced the shape of her lips. "I don't w-want him to touch me again, I want to go home." 

A tick appeared in Harry's jaw. "Okay," he nodded, features composed as he slipped his hands out from hers to settle them on the curve of her waist. Before (Y/N) could have any kind of reaction to the touch, Harry was lifting her to sit on the edge of the sink, the slit in her dress splitting to reveal one full leg with the other still draped in the silken material. "Before we can do that, I need you to breathe with me. Okay?" 

"I-I can't," she whined, the tenor of her voice echoing in the otherwise silent room. From the corner of her eye, she could see the silhouette of Francesca paces away, quietly watching on. 

"Okay," Harry soothed, his hands taking hers once more, "But I need you to try. We can't go anywhere until you try." 

The idea that she would have to stay here even a moment longer made (Y/N) choke up even more. How could he ask her to do the impossible like this? She just wanted to leave and Harry was making her stay here, pressuring her to breathe as if he thought she could actually manage that. 

"Harry," she cried, her voice broken. 

He shook his head, a stray curl falling from his tousled head of hair. "Just for a minute, yeah? Then we'll leave, I promise." 

When he didn't dare to break the eye contact he was making with her, (Y/N) couldn't do anything but nod her head to his wishes.

"Copy me," he instructed, taking in a deep through his nose, holding, then exhaling through his nose. When he didn't see (Y/N) doing the same, he repeated, "Gotta copy me, (Y/N)." A pulse of his hands around hers gained her attention. 

"Okay," she peeped, nodding with jerky movements. 

Another round of structured breathing came from Harry, his chest expanding with his perfect lips forming an "o" when exhaling. (Y/N) copied him as best she could, her chest straining against her corset and her lips feeling sticky with tears when she blew out. Harry stuck with her even when her lungs stuttered and she sobbed through the exercise. It wasn't until she was able to make five full breaths in a row that Harry relented in his pressing. 

"Feel a little better?" he asked, eyes searching her face. 

(Y/N) took stock of her state, noting the tingling in her fingers and toes had relented, leaving only the aches of a panic lingering in her body. Her head felt a little bloated and her chest tight, but she was doing world's better than she was only a handful of minutes earlier—even if that wasn't a necessarily hard bar to cross. 

She nodded. 

Using his gentle grip on her hands, Harry guided her off the counter, steadying her back onto her heels. (Y/N) had her eyes on her feet, watching the sparkling of her shoes against the immaculate tile of the floor. She really, really, really hoped tonight wouldn't ruin these shoes for her. 

Stepping back into (Y/N)'s line of sight, Francesca looked just as concerned as when she had left the first time. Her purse was now in hand with her phone clutched between her fingers. "Let's go back to my place, okay? I can make sure my driver can be here in five minutes, then we'll leave and we don't have to talk to anyone else." 

Francesca reached out a friendly hand, intending to take her from Harry's hold and back to her like they planned before he tumbled into the bathroom. (Y/N) didn't even realize that she was shying away from her best friend until she felt Harry's hand settle on the top of her back with his arm curling around her. 

"Fran—I—," she floundered, unsure of where her voice went but not trying to find it, "I want to stay with him, I'm sorry." 

Though (Y/N) expected hurt to touch Fran's features, she instead only saw a look of surprise raise her brows and widen her eyes. "That's okay," Francesca reassured her, "Don't be sorry. Just text me when you get home, okay?" 

"Okay," (Y/N) nodded, her hair tickling her bare skin.

Taking a tentative step forward, Francesca held her arms out. "Can I hug you before you leave?" 

(Y/N) didn't say anything before she collected her friend in a clumsy hug, cheek against her shoulder with their hair creating a mess. 

"I'm sorry, Fran," (Y/N) repeated in a hoarse whisper.

"Why are you sorry, don't be sorry," Francesca reminded her, "I just want you to feel safe, that's all." Pulling away, Fran matched her gaze, a soft smile falling on her mocha lined lips. "You look so hot tonight, so you better still post pics." 

It was the way Francesca looked at her so earnestly as if what she was saying was just as important as solidifying her plans to make it home, that had (Y/N) spilling with a huff of laughter. "I will," she sniffled, her cry-swollen mouth, "Love you." 

"Love you, too." 

Francesca parted with her after another squeezing hug, (Y/N) turning to find Harry with his eyes on the ground waiting for her. He peeked at her through the fan of his lashes, noticing her eye on him once more. 

"Ready?" 

All it took was (Y/N) nodding her head before she was reaching for Harry once more, allowing him to take her under his arm and bundle her to his side. 

"We're going to have to fast, okay?" he murmured to her as he pushed the door to the bathroom open, Francesca lingering in the restroom. 

"Okay," (Y/N) repeated, staying still as he peered around the secluded hallway in search of anyone else lurking around the space. 

Once he determined everything was clear, he started her in the direction of the ballroom. (Y/N) stiffened under his arm. Her father was out there. So was Barron. And over a hundred cell phone cameras and a trained photographer with a high quality camera for moments just like these. 

"I know," he crooned to her, the tip of his nose brushing her hair from where she had her eyes trained on the ground, "But 's the only way to get out. There's a back way, we jus' need to get through by the bar, then we'll be alone again. I promise." 

As much as she wanted to stop in her tracks, hide a little while longer, she allowed Harry to guide her steps down the hall. If this was the only way out, she was going to have to endure. 

The dull roar of the Gala filled every space in her body the second they stepped back under the chandelier light of the ballroom. (Y/N) kept her head down, hoping that if she caught anyone's eye, she could at least spare herself the humility of them catching her ruined makeup and swollen eyes. She clutched Harry's hand cupped around her waist. Her anchor. 

Harry guided them through the space, dodging most of the crowd as he took a swift turn, (Y/N) doing her best to stay steady on her feet. His steps didn't falter once. Until they did. 

(Y/N) stopped in her tracks when Harry skidded to a stop, something in their path that she was trying not to panic over. She kept her eyes trained on the pearly hue of her shoes as if she could pinpoint every hue that glimmered off of the expensive fabric.

"Harry, what's going on?" 

Almost jumping out of her skin, (Y/N) whipped her head up to find her father and Barron standing in their way. Her father spoke through gritted teeth, Barron's cheeks too red and eyes too glazed as he didn't even try to hide the way his gaze clung to her form. It's as if he forgot everything that led up to her fleeing from him and now returning with ruined mascara. 

(Y/N) flinched back on instinct. His eyes were almost as bad as his touch. 

Harry was a firm cage around her, keeping her steady as he ignored her father. He dismissed them as he tried to get around them, finding a path between a pair of tables. Her breathing caught in her throat when she saw her father try to reach for her, his hand like a wolven claw meant to drag her away. 

In a moment, Harry had twirled her away, putting her out of range while he acted as a solid wall between them to her. 

"Do not touch her," he gritted out, an undertone to his voice she'd never heard before. He was looking her father right in the eye as he spat out his command, taking him on without a wavering second. 

Her father, taken aback, almost stumbled on his feet. "Excuse me?" he let out. 

Ignoring him once more, Harry shot a sharp look at Barron. The man recoiled as if he had been struck. 

Harry didn't linger a second longer as he took through the tables, getting them back on track as soon as possible. (Y/N) could feel eyes on her, no doubt cameras following suit. This was a moment publication and gossip blogs would rather die than leave out. Tomorrow was going to be a shitshow with the notifications that would blow up her phone, but she couldn't find it in her to care at the moment. 

She only focused on Harry, keeping up with him and keeping her hand in his on her waist. 

Eventually, they stepped into the back hallway. (Y/N) recognized it from the times she'd visited 132 during a regular exhibition; it was the best way to sneak in and out when she didn't want to be spotted. 

Pushing open the heavy door after the hallway forked off into two different directions, Harry pulled (Y/N) into the fresh night air. Though the sky was clear, not a single star could be seen above their heads, the lights too bright to see anything in the heavens. The alley behind the gallery was big enough to allow protected trucks full of art pieces large enough to be considered murals to make through, the space clean enough. Cigarette butts were on the ground, and a dumpster resided on the other side. Still it was enough to please that of the higher clientele that visited the 132 Gallery, though (Y/N) wasn't sure she would care if she were stepping through piles of garbage at the moment. 

She was out. The gallery, her father, Barron, the cameras were all behind her. 

That knowledge alone allowed her lungs to open just a hair more, the rush of oxygen almost choking her. 

"Sully's on his way, okay?" Harry told her, his grip on her lessening now that they were alone, "I told him it was an emergency and he said he'd make it as soon as possible." 

"Okay," she gasped, nodding her head as best she could through her muddied mind. 

"Yeah," she breathed out, her lungs shaky but nothing like before. She just needed to think about every intake, which was a feat in its own, but whatever helped. 

A beat passed, Harry surely keeping track of her breathing. "Thought we stopped crying?" he murmured after a moment, closing in around her with his hands settling on her biceps.

Raising her hand to her cheek, (Y/N) swiped away a stream of tears she hadn't even been aware were leaking out. 

"Me too," she whispered, her voice watery with a pinch to her brows. 

Through the vignette of her tear-clumped lashes, (Y/N) could see the barely there smile on his features. "You've got all that pretty makeup on, remember? Can't keep crying like that when Sully gets here," he crooned, his voice more gentle than she ever thought he could manage. 

He thought her makeup looked pretty. Maybe he wasn't saying that she looked pretty, but it was still enough to loosen her muscles just enough. 

A watery smile fixed itself on her lips. "Yeah," she let out, the word floating on a delicate huff of laughter. 

From behind Harry, a bright beam of light outlined his silhouette. The sound of tires popping over the pavement and the purring rumble of a car engine filled the alleyway. Harry looked over his shoulder, leaving (Y/N) with only a view of the cut and hinge of his jaw, looping curls on the back of his neck. 

The car stopped beside them, Harry not wasting a second before he was gathering (Y/N) in his arms and pulling her into the back of the SUV. She was first in, with Harry following behind her over the leather bench seat. 

(Y/N) couldn't look at Sully when she settled, avoiding the reflection of his gaze in the rearview mirror she was sure that was pointed in her direction. As soon as the pair of them were buckled in—Harry having done hers—Sully was off. They were seamlessly incorporated into the city's traffic, the route back to her apartment, one he knew well and (Y/N) hoped he could quick work of. 

Harry, having forgone the usual buffer he placed between them, shifted in his seat with his thigh pressed against hers. In the back of her mind, (Y/N) knew this should feel like it was too much for her, that she should be shying away from his touch after the gross feeling Barron left her with, but she didn't feel that instinct to revolt. Instead, he was like an anchor, the steadying pillar that followed her about and ensured there was no way she could drift away from shore. 

"Alright?" he whispered, ducking down to peek into her line of sight, "Almost back home." 

She nodded, her brain feeling numb though she was sure there were still tears dripping off her cheeks. Now that the initial wave of panic passed, exhaustion was moving in. She would find out soon if there was going to be an aftershock, a tremor that would wrack through her when the night rushed back to her clear mind. 

Sinking into her seat, (Y/N) tossed her watery gaze out the window. Only a couple of hours prior she was in this same spot, though with perfected makeup and her skin buzzing from anticipation and excitement. Now she only buzzed with the feeling of oxygen reentering her bloodstream. 

God, she couldn't wait to get out of her clothes, and get the pins out of her hair. 

No longer caring, she got a head start and began shakily unraveling her shoes from her feet. Her fingertips fumbled over the latch on the string of pearls around her ankles, but it didn't take long for her to kick off her pumps and curl her knees to her chest. Harry silently reached down and took the Manolo's from the floor, his fingers hooked in the top straps.

When (Y/N)'s building came into view, Sully rolled to a stop just outside the entrance. (Y/N) finally chanced a look at the rearview mirror, her driver's soft eyes matching hers through the glass. 

"Thank you," she peeped, voice broken. 

Sully simply smiled and nodded at her. 

Behind her, Harry urged her out onto the sidewalk with a careful hand on her back. She didn't think twice about her bare feet landing on the burgundy carpet rolled out on the sidewalk before her building, keeping her mind focused on getting up to her apartment. Harry lingered for a moment, the rumble of his voice saying something to Sully, before he was joining her. 

"C'mon," he murmured, grabbing her hand in his. 

Much like he had at the Gala, Harry directed her through the lobby, her hand in one of his with her shoes in the other. He didn't let her linger on what the doormen could be thinking, seeing her with tear stained cheeks and bare feet with her designer gown. He took her straight to the elevator and input the code to her floor. 

For the first time since landing in the bathroom with panic in her chest, (Y/N) noticed the small detail of elevator music. 

Following after him, Harry took her to her apartment, using the key she'd given him weeks ago to let them in. He let go of her hand once they crossed the threshold as he lingered back to lock the door behind them. Looking around her apartment, the rug under her feet, (Y/N) couldn't pinpoint what triggered her, but the sprinkling of tears leaving her eyes elevated to a full downpour.

Her breathing came out in a stuttered pace, a whimper swirling from her chest. There was that aftershock. 

Oh, how this night was derailed. 

In an instant, Harry is there. His arms looped around her, his instincts taking over as she was pulled to his chest. 

"Hey, hey," he crooned to her, "What's going on, what happened?" 

(Y/N) only shook her head against his black suit-covered shoulder. She didn't have a real answer to that, and wasn't interested in digging through the events of the night to give him a full picture at the moment. 

Instead, she focused on his hold. She could feel the bump of her heels on the small of her back, but that didn't keep him from keeping her in a grounding hold. Though he was touching her in the same places that Barron had—her back, her arms, her leg, her chin—Harry's touch didn't feel the same at all. She didn't recoil or expect a film to be left on her pores. 

She all but melted into him, her muscles liquifying like the tears from her eyes. Harry held her up without a second thought, just as he had the rest of the night. 

A pinch took knitted her brows together at the thought, her eyes squeezing shut as more tears fled from her ducts. 

Never did she picture herself needing him the way she did tonight. He was so calm and strong, keeping her from falling to pieces on the bathroom floor. (Y/N) loved Francesca with her whole heart and knew she owed her a phone call before the night was over, but she didn't think her best friend could have controlled the situation and her breakdown like Harry had. 

He stopped her father from touching her, Barron from talking to her. He knew the precise way to make it out with the least amount of disturbance possible. Even letting Sully know to pick them up as soon as possible wasn't something that had even crossed her mind, but that had to have been one of the first things he did when he realized her state. 

She hugged him tighter, her arms around his middle. 

Drawing away just enough to look down at her, Harry scanned her with sparkling green eyes. "Do y'need to breathe with me again?" he asked her, the suggestion gentle and quiet as if there were people around to overhear. 

"N-No," she said, shaking her head, "I just—... Can you stay with me f-for a second?" 

In response, Harry homed her back into his chest. "I've got you," his voice rumbled his chest under her cheek. 

Though it was more than clumsy with missteps and stilted movements, Harry led her to the staircase that ran up to her room. From there, he sat her on the bottom step, with him following closely after. She huddled up to him, Harry's arms curling around her as she sat with her dress splayed around her. 

She didn't know how long she sat there, one of Harry's hands on her shin with his thumb moving in a soothing circuit over the bone, her face in his neck, but no time seemed long enough. The only reason she even dared to begin to pull back was the itching feeling of her clothes wrapped around her body. 

"What do you need?" he asked instantly, ducking down into her space. From this view, she saw a collection of freckles across his nose, faint. 

Swallowing, (Y/N) felt her hair sticking to her wet cheeks, the chunks of desecrated mascara surely mixing with the strands on her skin. 

"I don't want to be in my dress anymore," she said, her voice as loud as she could manage without breaking. "It's too much." 

"Okay," he murmured, giving a small nod, "Okay. I'll help you up to your room, and then y'can change into your pajamas." 

The idea of him leaving her being in her bedroom had the lump in her throat thickening. She could barely keep her hands steady and he wanted her to be by herself?

"I-I can't do it by myself," she whimpered, too far gone to feel embarrassed about asking her bodyguard for help like this. 

"Y'need my help?" he pressed, looking for verification though his gaze didn't waver from her own. 

(Y/N) simply nodded her head. 

His lips thinned but he gave her a confirming dip of his chin before he started helping her stand. He kept his hand wrapped around hers as he pulled her up the steps, (Y/N) following pliantly into her bedroom. 

With a toss, Harry left her shoes in a heap somewhere in her room, but his attention was firmly laced on her. He kept her bedroom door open, the light from the hallway seeping through. 

"(Y/N)?" he voiced, his voice firm, "Can y'look at me?" 

Turning her gaze, she found him looking directly at her as his hand slipped away from hers. She almost wanted to reach for it back, unwilling to let go of that tether. 

"You're okay with me helping y'undress?" he prodded, reiterating the same question she thought she already answered at the bottom of the stairs, "I need you to tell me if you're sure. I'm not going to help unless y'mean it." 

"I-I can't do it by myself, please," she told him. Not once had she made it in or out of this dress by herself, and she couldn't fathom doing that now when her eyes were swollen with tears and her hands fighting off tremors. "I don't want to wear this anymore." 

he looked at her for a beat longer, gaze matching her own. Whatever he saw in there must have been enough for him to give her a small nod. "Okay. Tell me what to do." 

"Just get the zipper," she told him, facing her back towards him where the scooping line of her dress made it that much harder for her to reach the tiny mechanism. 

Silently, Harry stepped behind her, her hair already up and pulled away when she reached towards her. The hook at the top of the form was the first to go, his fingertips brushing the same swatch of skin Barron had violated. Taking the zipper down, every tooth that was pulled apart allowed her lungs to fill deeper with air. (Y/N)'s eyes fluttered closed at the feeling, her dress loosening around her shoulders. 

Pressing her hands to her chest, she kept the bodice of her dress up once Harry reached the bottom of the line. 

"Can y'breathe better?" Harry murmured behind her, his words fanning across her skin. His breath felt cool against her skin. 

"Uh-huh," she exhaled, her shoulders relaxing into a gentle slope, "Thank you." 

She heard him murmur a good in response though he hesitated where he stood. "Do y'need any more of m'help? Or do y'want to be alone now?" 

The idea of Harry leaving her, setting her to be alone in the dark of her room, the city skyline dusky out the window. She feared his hands were the only things keeping her from falling apart. 

"Help," she answered simply. 

Wordlessly, Harry assisted her in pulling down her dress, her back facing him as it became an ethereal puddle at her feet. Dom was going to kill her when he found out she let the gown touch the floor. 

The nude forms of her shapewear and barely there bra was all that was left on her body as she kicked away her dress, the corset now structureless and folded with pearls a mess around. 

(Y/N) didn't even think before she was pulling down her shapewear, the compression just another layer too much. 

"I—" Harry coughed from behind her, his voice cutting short, "I'm going to get y'some clothes." 

Her skin heated when she realized the way she had so carelessly began undressing in front of him. She was so used to having a team be there when she prepped and redressed from this, the shyness accompanying undressing and pulling layers off her body no longer lingered in moments like these. But, Harry wasn't a member of those teams, and this obviously wasn't the kind of thing he had anticipated when he obliged to stay and help her. She hoped she hadn't scarred him with the way she was almost completely nude in front of him. 

At the same time, she couldn't curb the urge to get these pieces off of her body. She wanted to be rid of the night, the touches, the layers of herself that fell victim to her father's pressures to stay perfect at all times. The sooner that could happen, the sooner she would feel like herself again. 

By the time Harry returned from her closet, an oversized shirt and a pair of her pilates shorts in hand, she was down to her thong with her hands holding up the push-up cups of her bra. She almost jumped out of her skin when she saw him move out of the corner of her eye, his steps faltering before he trained his gaze on the ground. 

"I'll leave these here for you," he mumbled, the set of clothing being dropped on the edge of her mattress. He brought his knuckle up to brush against the tip of his nose, "I'll be outside your door. Come find me when you're done." 

When the door shut behind him, (Y/N) was sealed away by herself. Her room became a vacuum, the air sucked out in a way that only felt calm. 

Left in only her underwear, she allowed her bra to drop to the floor as she fell back on her mattress. She stared up at the ceiling, her chest rising and falling with the light of the city filtering through her balcony in hazy beams. 

This is her apartment. She's in her bed. She was in her skin. Her clothing was waiting at the end of her bed. 

(Y/N) eyes fell closed as relief flooded through herself at the mantra. Everything around her was hers. No one could take any of this from her. This peace was hers to hold. 

Tomorrow she would be worried about the stories that would be spun, her father's reaction to everything that had transpired, what consequences would follow this breakdown. But that was for tomorrow. Tonight, she was going to relish the sense of safety, that for a second she worried she would never experience again (that panic in her tummy was rooted deep). 

She needed to text Francesca.

While she would have preferred to give her a call, there wasn't enough energy in her body for something like that. 

Instead, (Y/N) lethargically redressed into her pajamas. Her top slouched around her form, the neckline wide and sleeves draping. Her shorts were well worn and stretchy from the many pilates sessions they accompanied her to. Taking her phone after she was settled into her skin, she typed out a text to Francesca. 

    thank you for helping tonight. harry got me home a little bit ago so I'm alright. I love u so much fran thank you thank you thank you

The second she pressed send, the confirmation that the message was delivered popping up, (Y/N) dropped the device among the folds in her duvet to find Harry. 

Whipping the door open, she found Harry just outside her bedroom door. His suit jacket had been discarded somewhere in her apartment, his tie missing as well. Now he was left with the top couple of buttons undone of his shirt and his shirt sleeves now loose around his forearms. The tattoos she spotted the first day they met were back on display, roses and mermaids and bugs and script. 

That peace she found in her bedroom strengthened at the sight of him. 

"Y'alright?" Harry asked, his posture straightening from where he had leant against the wall. 

"Yeah," she murmured, stepping over the threshold, "I-I can breathe, finally." She swallowed, taking in the state of his messed hair and flush to his cheeks. She knew what the night looked like from her end, but she could only imagine the kind of trouble he went through. "I'm sorry." 

Harry shook his head, lips thinning at her apology. "Don't be sorry," he affirmed, reaching a careful hand out, "C'mon." 

Laying her palm in his, (Y/N) was ready to follow wherever Harry wanted to take her. She padded after him as he escorted her to her bathroom, the space littered with beauty products and a bay window showing off the light of the city through the frosted glass. 

"Let's get your makeup off and hair down, yeah?" he asked her, meeting her eyes through the glass of her mirror as he flicked on the overhead lights. 

"Yes, please," she nodded, her voice heavy with fatigue now that the come down was beginning to settle in. "I'll start with my makeup if you'll get my hair?" 

"Sounds like a plan," Harry murmured, a shadow of a smile touching the corners of his lips. 

A comforting silence settled in the air, Harry concentrating on breaking the hold of the can of hairspray that was used on her styled hair. A furrow appeared in his brow from where she spied him in the mirror. 

"Let me know if I hurt you," he mumbled, picking bobby pins out of her strands. He only worked with gentle hands, fingertips brushing her scalp. 

Now it was her turn to feel a curling grin tease the corners of her mouth. "Okay." 

Pulling her removal balm from her drawer, she spread the oil across her fingertips and began shedding the layers of ruined makeup from her skin. In the back of her mind, she wanted to care about Harry seeing her with raccoon eyes and greasy skin, but she was sure he'd already seen her much worse earlier in the night. Nothing could scare him away at this point, even if she knew it was more for job security than anything that had to do with her. Besides, she didn't mind showing him this part of herself; he was her safety net tonight. 

More and more of her strands broke free while (Y/N) peeled her lashes off, a damp cloth being used to get the removal balm off of her skin. Her pores and blemishes were on display once more, her skin breathing after being caked under powders and rivers of tears. Her scalp felt sore with every bobby pin Harry took out, a pile accruing on the counter. 

"Can I ask what happened back there?" Harry piped up, breaking the silence that had settled like a fog over the room. His usual deadpan tone softened into something malleable and soft, gentle to her ears. 

(Y/N)'s lips thinned at the question. She knew how to answer the question, but it was more of a matter of if she wanted to hear the answer after already living it. She bought herself time as she swiped her face with an extra cleansing water, her reusable cotton pad soft against her skin. 

From her view in the mirror, she saw as he kept his eyes trained on her hair, fingers tracing through the strands comb out the twirled mess made earlier in the night. 

"I know y'might not want to tell me because we aren't... friends, but even as someone who's meant to look after you, it would help to know just so I can protect you better next time," he mused, his voice gentle. 

"Franny didn't tell you?" 

A beat passed. "I want to hear it from you, (Y/N)." 

Harry kept her steady when her weight shifted on her feet. His hands in her hair dropped to settle on her biceps, his eyes returning hers in the mirror. She felt his eyes scanning over her face. Whatever he found there had his jaw hardening, his resolve strengthening from where he stood behind her. "You're not there anymore, (Y/N). It's all over, don't forget." 

She nodded her head, taking in a wavering breath through her nose. "Right, um," she started, her fingers fiddling with the sewn edge of her cotton pad, "It was that guy, at our table. The one sitting on my dad's other side. He found me at the bar when I was getting a drink, and he just didn't really listen. He bought me a drink and kept wanting to talk to me even when I was saying I wanted to go back to Emma and Francesca." 

With his hands resuming in her hair, Harry listened along. "Right," he murmured, his voice now holding an edge that had previously been melted away. She had a feeling he knew bits and pieces of this story, and it only made it that much harder to hear it from her mouth. 

"He kept touching me, and talking to me like I was stupid. It wasn't that bad, it just felt wrong—it made me feel gross." She swallowed around her dry throat, grateful for the lack of makeup on her face, her tears now welling over clean lashes. "I tried to leave, but I knew people were around and my dad would have been so mad if I made a scene. I tried to find you but I think my dad was talking to you so you couldn't see me, and the girls were busy, and there was a camera guy going around and taking photos. I couldn't... I let him keep touching me, but I was getting so nervous and it was all too much." 

With her hair finally down and free from the style it was put in, Harry noticed the shine of her tears falling down her cheeks once more. He didn't hesitate before he was spinning her around, looping his arms around her to collect her to his chest. 

"I know, I know," he murmured to her, her own hands curling in the fabric of his black shirt, "'S over now, though, right?"? 

"Right," she breathed, voice a bit hoarse.

His hand petted her hair, the strands fluffy now that the hairspray was broken but still holding the heat style she was given. She couldn't wait to wash her hair when she had the energy, already missing the natural texture. 

"Y'said it was the man sitting beside your dad? Barron?" 

"Mhm," (Y/N) whimpered at the sound of his name. "I guess my dad had told him I needed to be taken care of, and I think he told him other m-mean things about me." 

Her words dissolved into a string of sobs, Harry going tense against her. She couldn't help herself, sniffling and crying against his chest, her breathing coming in erratic puffs. She felt guilty, feeling him tense around her. She didn't mean to upset him. 

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," she babbled, pulling away to look at him with a crinkling sniffle of her nose, "To-Tonight has been a lot. Thank you for helping me." 

(Y/N) attempted to unravel herself from his hold, only to be stopped by his arms caging around her middle. "It's okay, don't apologize to me," he told her earnestly, matching his gaze to her blurry one, "Thank you for telling me, but I want to make something very clear right now." 

Nodding, she looked up at him, watching as he ducked down into her space, crowding around her with intensity in his eyes. 

"If y'ever feel uncomfortable or like you're in danger, for whatever reason—I don't care if you think it's not that bad, or your father will be upset, or whatever reason you think is good enough to stay in that moment—you are going to leave." His words were a command hiding behind a gentle tone. He was unwavering in his stance, that much she could glean. "I don't care what you have to do, what kind of 'scene' y'have to make, come find me if 'm not right there. Whatever will make you feel safest, that's what I want you to do. Don't ever feel like you have to put up with anything that upsets you for whatever reason.

"You matter more than whatever cover story or photos someone could make up. Okay? Don't ever think it's the other way around." 

(Y/N) couldn't hold back the tears that fell down her cheeks, her skin stained and chin dripping with every drop.  Her father had never said or even made her feel like putting herself first was an option, that she was the one variable in these stories that deserved a bit of protection. There was even a brief period of time when she had a publicist, and he never said anything close to what was coming out of Harry's mouth. 

Everyone else around her had always shared the importance of what those around her thought, what could be said about her, the kind of stories that could be splashed across the pages. Her feelings, her safety, herself was always at the bottom of that list. 

"Okay?" Harry prodded, his hands on her back flexing with fingertips denting the planes of her back, "Do y'understand what 'm saying?" 

"I do," she choked out,  lips quivering. Even blurry through her tears, dressed in all black and exhaustion on his features, Harry was the most gorgeous person she'd ever seen. An angel in the frosty light of her bathroom. "Thank you." 

Harry only tugged her closer to his chest, cupping her back of her head where she snuggled in and allowed tears to run from her eyes. 

(Y/N) clung to him tighter. 

—————

Waking in her bed, duvet in folds around her with her pilates shorts chucked on the floor beside her discarded gown, (Y/N) blinked her stiff eyelids open. She couldn't be sure what time it was when she stalked to her bedroom, only remembering the ache in her muscles and stuffy nose. Harry had stayed with her all night, soothing her through the bouts of tears and being there when all she needed was to not be alone. 

Stretching out of her bed with her feet hitting the floor, she couldn't remember if Harry had stayed after she fell asleep. She was barely aware of her own body when she shed her shorts and flopped into her bed, too exhausted to even crawl under the covers. 

Stepping over her cold floor, (Y/N) crept out into the hallway, peering down the bend. Just barely, she could see a folded suit jacket and the first strands of curling brown hair from where she could spot the end of her couch. The closer she came to the living room, the closer she came to letting a smile settle on her features. 

How he could manage it, she didn't know, but it was very much in his character to sleep with his brows pinched and arms crossed over his chest. He didn't look like he was resting particularly well, his suit jacket acting as his pillow as he threw himself into an odd shape to lay on her couch.

He stayed. 

A heat bubbled under her skin at the thought. Despite the wringer she put him through the night before, he stayed here. Though she wasn't exactly sure how she would navigate the conversation that would have to occur when he woke, how she would handle knowing that he saw those most vulnerable parts of her, at least she knew she wasn't alone. 

Letting him stay where he was, (Y/N) silently moved past him to her kitchen. She could start to say thank you by making him breakfast, she decided. If anything, it might be a good enough distraction to push off the conversation a bit longer when he woke. 

She fell into her element as she pulled out the ingredients, feeling her muscles relax and joints loosen. Trying to be as quiet as she could so as to not disturb the sleeping beauty on her couch, she pulled the dish together as she went. Slices of toast were warming in a butter skimmed pan while she raided her spice rack. From her fridge she pulled eggs and chorizo, cheese and hashbrowns until she came up with a scramble. A rich and lemony hollandaise started on her stove, her apartment filling with toasted spices and the sizzling pop of the chorizo looking. She hoped he would appreciate the extra shred of manchego she stirred in.

With her mind running around the kitchen, timing and anticipating everything, she felt okay. She knew there had to be more than a handful of notifications on her phone, too many articles with her name tagged, and her father scheming her punishment, but, right now, she was content in living in this moment. She could wash her hair later, answer her phone calls, and explain to Dom that she didn't mean to let the Vivienne gown wrinkle on the floor. Before then, she would allow her only consequences to be the ache in her bones and the crust in the corners of her eyes. 

Adding the final seasonings and beginning to plate everything, (Y/N) shifted her attention to the other consequence laying on her couch. She really hoped he liked what she made. 

Adding the hollandaise over the hashbrown bowl, (Y/N) finished up with adding the slices of crusty toast to the rim of the bowl. She placed them on her rarely used dining table, hesitating at the chair beside where she determined Harry would sit before backtracking and placing her own serving in the seat across. 

Now was the hard part. 

Padding over the rug, she made her way to the couch, Harry's restless form still stiff where he laid. With the top buttons of his top undone, the tan skin of his chest was on display, the necklace she had noticed time and time again, the pendants finally on display. The faces of a duo of birds inked on his chest peeked out, matching the dark black of his outfit. He even fell asleep with his shoes on. 

He did all that work to make sure she was comfortable—getting her out of her dress, helping her take her hair down, reminding her to wash her makeup off—only to fall asleep with his suit jacket as a pillow and his event clothes wrapped too tight around him. 

Crouching beside him, she sat on her folded knees. His profile was on display this way, the line of his nose and curl of his lashes highlighted through the sunny window. 

Using a gentle hand, she cautiously settled her palm on his tensed shoulder. "Harry," she murmured. She gave a minute shake to his shoulder. 

Harry woke up with a start, his reaction much quicker and more drastic than she had expected. He sucked in a big breath, his eyes flying open as he sat up, his hands reaching behind to prop himself up. She could see the recognition settle over his features, his eyes frantically searching over her face with his mouth in a soft gape. 

"(Y/N)," he breathed out. 

Having sat back some when he startled, her hands in a bundle in her lap, she blinked up at him. "Sorry," she started, "I just... I made you breakfast, if you were hungry." 

Disoriented, he ran a heavy hand through his hair as he shifted where he sat. The suede cushions fluffed up, the fibers mimicking waves around him. "Yeah?" he asked, moving to sit properly with his feet on the ground and knees wide apart.

Still on her knees, she looked up at him, his hair a mess and chest heaving as he caught his stressed breath. She opened her mouth to say something, but every thought was ripped from her head when her front door was flung open. 

Whipping around, she almost jumped out of her skin when she saw her father stepping inside. His face was twisted in anger, wearing a suit too nice for this early in the morning, and his eyes as daggers trained right on her. 

He stomped over the threshold, coming towards where she was still folded on the floor. 

"Dad!" 

Ignoring her voice, she saw him finally take in the scene. For the first time he seemed to realize Harry was there. With (Y/N) on her knees in front of him. His clothes were a rumpled mess, the same ones from the night before. His chest rising and falling from his startled good morning, hair a stressed mess. 

(Y/N) could practically see his blood pressure rising through his body, his hair standing on end when he returned his gaze to hers. He was seething, taking his assumptions from the scene before him. 

"Are you fucking kidding me, (Y/N)?" he hissed, his hands practically shaking at his sides. He towered over her, even from where she sat feet away. "What do you think you're trying to do to him!?" 

Scrambling to stand up, she was already shaking her head in denial. This wasn't the kind of scolding she was going to be able to sit through. 

"What? I'm—No, that's not—" 

He shook his head, his jaw stiff. He seemed to bite his own tongue, stopping himself from saying anything more. "We will have to talk about that later," he cemented, "Because you need to tell me what the hell you were thinking last night." 

While she knew this was coming, she honestly expected more of a phone call. She thought he would be too angry to even look at her. He'd never been angry enough to burst into her home and yell at her there. He much preferred his home turf, where he controlled all the power. 

Swallowing, she tried to calm her racing heartbeat. "I know it looks bad, but I promise I didn't mean—" 

"I don't want excuses!" he shouted, cutting her off despite the fact he was the one that invited her to talk in the first place. "I'm tired of you embarrassing me every chance you get! I always knew you'd be crazy like your mother, but I didn't think it would be this fucking bad." 

(Y/N) recoiled at the mention of her mother. He rarely talked about her unless in punishment, but he hadn't said anything so blatantly evil about her. 

She didn't know what to say. This is why he never told her about the racing in her heart and the stress that filled her without permission. She didn't want him to think of her as crazy, something that needed to be medicated and put away. But, she supposed now, he didn't need to know that information to say that about her. 

Her father took a menacing step towards her, his expression that much more angry after her silence. 

In an instant, Harry was sliding between them, his back facing (Y/N) with his height obscuring her view of her father. "Sir," Harry started, a warning to his tone that had to come from years of dealing with pests. 

It was her father's turn to take a step back, (Y/N) just barely catching the way he rolled his eyes. Harry's interference only set him off further, it appeared. 

Speaking around the wall that was Harry, he yelled to (Y/N), "How am I supposed to trust him now, after I saw what you were trying to do to him. What did you do last night that convinced him that you needed protecting from me when you're the problem!" 

Harry took a step towards him, a hand out as if to soothe a vicious animal while barring him from coming any closer should he attempt. "Sir, I think it's best if you step outside for a moment." 

Ignoring Harry's plea, he only craned his neck to ensure (Y/N) could see him when he yelled again. "I always knew you'd end up a whore," her father seethed, "But you only seem to like it best when it's a way to get back at me." 

With that, Harry didn't hesitate before grabbing her father by the arms and twisting him away. He escorted him out the door of her apartment, pushing him over the threshold with a slam of the door behind them. 

Muffled shouts started on the other side of the door, her father's voice the one that was raised. She couldn't pick out individual words, but she figured that was probably for the best. She didn't need to hear any more of what he thought of her. 

Staving off a replay of last night's breakdown, she sunk to the floor, her legs a tangled puddle underneath her. Her hands shook in her lap, matching the cadence of her lungs as she fought to keep her breathing even. 

Suddenly, a loud bang against her door rang through her empty apartment. Tears filled her eyes. 

The blaring noise was compounded with a stretch of silence. The low timber of Harry's voice rose then, though his was layered with the typical composure he always had, even in the face of someone as unreasonable as her father. 

The silence gave too much room for her thoughts to grow, her head bloated and heavy. 

In an odd way, she was grateful he was as angry as he was. He was too upset, his vision too red, to say anything properly damaging. If he had been thinking any clearer, she worried she would have a plane ticket to Sweden in hand and all credit cards in her name shredded. 

While this morning was bad, it definitely could have been worse, she decided. 

She couldn't be sure how long she sat on the floor, waiting for whatever would emerge back into her apartment, but soon enough the doorknob twisted with the hinges gliding open. Harry was the only one to step inside, her father missing from the hallway when she glanced around. 

His cheeks were red, hair in an even sorrier state than before, but he kept that same calculated set to his irises. He didn't hesitate to crouch to her level, his brows pinching as he met (Y/N)'s eyes. 

"Are you okay?" he asked, intensity laced through his voice. 

(Y/N) nodded her head, stray hairs curtaining around her face. "Sorry about everything he said. I-I don't know where he—why he—" 

Harry shook his head, his jaw ticking. He dropped his gaze from hers as he shuttered them in a lingering blink. When he dared to glance up at her once more, he said, "No, don't apologize for him. I jus'... (Y/N), I think 's best if I go home, now." 

Instinctively, she wanted to question him. She wanted to investigate his reasoning and attempt to make him stay. He was her solid pillar, the buoy keeping her afloat. She worried what she would do without him for the first time in twenty-four hours. 

But, she couldn't blame him. Her father just accused her of trying to seduce him to wriggle into his head, with whatever else he shared behind that closed door. She could only imagine just how uncomfortable he was now in her presence, both his employer and client having varying breakdowns in front of him. 

"Okay," she settled, dropping her eyes to her hands. At least the tremor stopped. "Thank you for staying with me last night." 

Giving a curt nod, Harry stood to his full height. He moved silently around him, stoic as ever as he collected his suit jacket and cell phone. His footsteps seemingly echoed in the otherwise silence of her home. 

She wasn't even sure if he looked at her again before he slipped out the front door, leaving her alone. 

—————

Dad

    I have a flight scheduled to take you to Paris in a week. You can't be trusted here to stay out of trouble, even with Harry's help. You will be staying through to the winter, and I hope you take this time to reflect on what you've done and how you plan on fixing your attitude. 

     Harry will be accompanying you, but I expect you to keep your relationship strictly professional with him. Don't squander this time away, (Y/N).

     I will check in soon to ensure things are going well. 

(Y/N) felt heavy reading her father's string of texts. 

Today had been enough of an obstacle already, and now she had to plan to be out of the country well after Summer had ended. 

She didn't bother to type a response, only reacting to the top message with a thumbs up. 

Falling back on her bed, the mattress bouncing under her spine, she stared up at the ceiling. 

She was going to have to call Francesca. 

—————

"Is there anything I can grab for you, Ms. (Y/N)?" 

A pleasant smile curled over (Y/N)'s lips, the bags under her eyes shielded by the heavy pair of sunglasses perched on her nose. "No, thank you." 

The flight attendant scurried away at her dismissal, all too eager to practically sprint away. While this crew wasn't especially friendly with her, always seeming a little too scared of her, there was definitely a difference in how attentive they'd started for this flight. They'd no doubt seen the articles that had been swirling for the last week. 

She couldn't blame them, honestly. Reviewing the articles herself, she was painted as an out of touch socialite, a woman who flipped out after a perceived slight. There were photos of her speaking to Barron, the moment having been described as the final moments before the blowup. The drink clutched in her hand was blown out of proportion, insiders and onlookers dishing out how she'd been drinking the whole night despite those two sips of the gin and tonic being the only alcohol she partook in the entire Gala. 

The men around her were painted as heroes, including Harry. Her father and Barron were trying to talk her down from her drunken antics, urging her to calm and remind her of the cameras watching. Harry was doing the chivalrous thing and helping her out of the event before she stumbled around and humiliated herself more than she already had. Some sources even became so bold as to claim that the reason she snuck away to the bathroom for so long, others checking on her, was because of a drug problem she was hiding behind closed doors. 

All of it was her fault. She was being unreasonable, and rude. Untamable and embarrassing. Crazy, even. 

The webs were spun so well, including the official photographs along with blurry photographs posted by anonymous social media accounts. Every story looked worse than the last. 

Even knowing the truth, seeing those photos gave (Y/N) a deep sense of humiliation she couldn't shake. 

Seeing an outsider's perspective, the way she clung to Harry with messy hair and swollen eyes, crying over him and using him like some kind of shield. She couldn't believe he had stayed with her after the way she acted—and those were only the things that occurred in public. 

If that wasn't bad enough, after the fashion magazine's interview was posted along with the event's photos and stories, Harry was now having articles written about him. People were digging into his private life, hunting down any kind of hint of who he was, what he meant to (Y/N). Most likely, some were even hoping to get into contact with him and earn and exclusive. She couldn't blame him if he took someone up on the offer. 

It was all her fault. 

Maybe that was why this past week, she hadn't heard from him at all. To be fair, she hadn't gone anywhere, preferring to keep out of the public eye while the gossip circulated. Francesca met her at her apartment instead, helping her with everything; they packed a small bag to get her through her traveling, cried, bitched about her dad, and had a two day sleepover before (Y/N)'s exile began. She was the only one (Y/N) told, knowing it would get to the rest of the girls in a matter of time, only after she had disappeared for a good few weeks. 

That left (Y/N) with a small go-bag, a full wardrobe and duplicates of her favorite things already waiting at the French penthouse, sweats on her form and embarrassment too deep to coax Harry into interacting with her. 

She felt stiff where she sat, imagining what the stew crew was whispering about her just out of earshot, imagining what Harry was thinking about her as he refused to even glance at her despite the orientation of their chairs. She couldn't relax in her skin. She was too in her head to manage something like that. 

Though (Y/N) was happy to get out of New York, these circumstances were killing any joy she could tie to the change in scenery. Paris was one of her favorite places in the world, her penthouse securing a special spot in her heart, but her father wanted to turn it into a prison. he wanted to ruin another safe place for her. It sucked. 

And, the one person she was too embarrassed to even properly look at, was the one person accompanying her through it all. Her new roommate was the same guy that she was being accused of sleeping with out of anger at her father, out of her rampant sexual desire that kept her from staying with any one person for too long, or a cute decoration that was placed around her to give her clout. At least that's what the rumors swirling around were.

Heaving a sigh and crossing her legs, (Y/N) wanted to be surprised that Harry didn't even flinch in her direction, instead she felt just a sting of hurt behind her ribs. 

—————

"You know where the house is?" 

"Yes," Harry answered, his response curt as he shifted the car into drive. 

(Y/N) couldn't blame his short reply, she wasn't being particularly warm either. 

Instead, she silently settled into her seat, conflicted on how to feel. She'd never really travelled without a driver. Even if it wasn't Sully since he stayed in the city with his family, there was always someone else that took care of her wherever she went. This time, it appeared Harry would be in charge of that. 

Most likely at her father's request, she figured. Now there was no reason for her to be away from him for even ten minutes. Her babysitter extraordinaire. 

Shifting her gaze out the windscreen, she took in the emerging city. It had been a while since she was away from the lights and the skyscrapers, the crowds of tourists. While Paris wasn't quite as quant as the movies made it out to be, it was definitely different from that of New York. There was more breathing room. 

Her dad always thought it was too slow, too boring, a place to spend a single day in before moving on to something much newer and exciting. Maybe that was why it became one of her favorite places, her first request when she was old enough being that she could find a penthouse in Paris. She knew he wouldn't want to follow her here. 

Harry drove like an expert through the winding streets, a GPS screen hooked up to show him the way to her penthouse, though she doubted he needed it. He kept his gaze shifting through the cycle of peering out the window, checking his mirrors, and glancing in the rearview. He didn't waver in his routine, as if (Y/N) wasn't even there. 

The familiar lead up to the neighbourhood of Saint-Germain had (Y/N) sitting up. She couldn't wait to lock herself away in that top floor penthouse. 

Taking advantage of the free space not too far from the entrance to the building, Harry pulled in in one smooth motion. The click of the gear shifter settled them into park. He pulled the key after a beat, finally shooting her a fleeing glance. 

"I'll grab the bags and follow you," he directed, not waiting before he was pushing open his door and stepping out onto the street. 

She followed suit, pushing her sunglasses to the top of her head. 

Upon her first deep breath in, (Y/N) wondered if she had been away for long enough to convince herself the air really did smell like butter and wine the way poets always described.

There were still a good amount of tourists given the neighborhood's proximity to various landmarks, but this place was worlds different in comparison to the city. She hoped her father knew she was enjoying her punishment. 

Harry, with their bags in hand, waited for her to take the lead. She gave him a careful smile before she breezed past him, leading them to the entrance of her building. This place was much different than that in the city, no doorpeople around and only a small bank of two elevators beside the various mailboxes. 

Once in the lift, she entered them in to be taken to the top floor. Harry was a silent pillar beside her, his luggage and her duffle bag in hand. She swallowed around the silence. 

The top floor was all for her, the space being bought by her father by the time she was twenty. Knocking down the walls, the three separate apartments were turned into one big space that was gutted and turned into an immaculate penthouse. (Y/N) fought to keep as many of the original features as she could. 

Stepping inside the space, her efforts were rewarded with the sight of the off-white walls, texture embedded in the slabs. Wrought-iron fixtures were littered throughout, the original doors and biggest kitchen left as it was. Everything held the air of romance, the space a lot more intimate than small than what she had in New York. A trio of different balconies were stationed on the outside, those terraces offering views of the Eiffel Tower. 

It was lovely. That was the only way she could describe it. The kind of place that deserved to be draped in roses and lit exclusively in candlelight. Late nights and Burgundy wine with silk dresses. 

Harry followed her as she stepped towards a plane of French doors, the glass frosted to keep prying eyes out. "This is my room," she told him, voice detached, "But down that hall are a couple of spare bedrooms and bathrooms, so you can pick whatever one you want." 

Dropping her duffle on the floor, he gave her a single nod. "Okay." 

With that, he turned on his heel. She watched as he started down the hall, leaving her with a single syllable. 

She needed to say something. As distant as she was acting because of her embarrassment, she couldn't not acknowledge what happened. Every time she looked at him, she saw  those photos of her clinging and crying on him, her mascara a mess while he looked at her with sympathy. She saw the way he tended to her hair in the mirror, using his fingers to break the hold of the hairspray and gently pick out the bobby pins holding the style in. She saw him defending her against her father. 

"Harry?" she peeped, eyes fixed to his back. 

"Hm?" He stopped, looking at her over his shoulder. 

Taking a step towards him, her hands a fumbling mess behind her back, she swallowed. "I wanted to say thank you again for last week. Especially after everything. And for defending me," she started, her gaze dropping to the middle of his back, "I'm sorry I acted that way, and how I have been acting. I know I can be unreasonable, so it means a lot that you stayed with me and still came here with me. I hope this isn't too bad of a place to be exiled." 

She tried to go lighthearted, ending with a breathy laugh that didn't quite reach her eyes. 

Harry only looked at her with a pinched brow, his arm dropping the bag he had slung over his shoulder. "I... I don't think I understand." 

Clamming up, (Y/N) felt too exposed. She waved him off, shaking her head in hopes of dismissing all that she shared. "Don't worry about it," she said, "Just thank you for looking out for me, and I promise I'm going to make your job as easy as possible while we're here. Hopefully, I'll be able to get you home before the holidays." 

A silence settled between them. Harry didn't offer any kind of response, only his eyes following her. She shifted her weight where she stood, her fingers knotting behind her back. 

She inched towards her room, the space feeling too heavy as her words hung in the air. 

"I think I'm going to unpack and take a nap," she murmured, offering a barely there smile, "We can order food later if you want, but I don't plan on doing anything, so the rest of the day is yours." 

With that, she slipped between her open French doors, the warmth of her room enveloping her once she sealed the rest of the penthouse out. She didn't want to see if Harry was still standing there, watching her with eyes that were too observant. 

She took in a deep breath, shifting her gaze through her bedroom. Her eyes landed on the open drapes to her balcony. Outside, the Eiffel Tower shimmered.

—————

ephemere is the French words for a fleeting beauty; a summer love, a shooting star, greatness gone too soon

this part is def one of the longer ones of the series so thank you so much for getting through it! sorry for any mistakes and if you have any ideas or thoughts please send them in!

[sapphic-gardn]

About me

To all my new friends! I thought it would be nice to let you all get to know me a bit better.

Hello! My name is Jenna—Jen is my nickname that close friends call me but I don’t have a preference. You can call me whatever you want.

I am 23 and my pronouns are she/her.

I just recently joined the Pedro Pascal train in February of this year (when I started watching tlou). I was really drawn to this fandom not only because of Pedro. I’ve discovered that this community is extremely welcoming and open-minded which I have witnessed first hand.

I was a huge Directioner and 5sos fan back in my day (about 11-12 years ago) and was super involved in the fandom.

My big girl job is working as an esthetician! I know all things beauty and you will never catch me skipping out on my skincare routine. I am also a makeup artist and lash tech which is sort of under the umbrella of esthetician.

I love music. All kinds of music (not so much country but I can warm up to it). Classic rock and indie folk are by far my favorite genres. I am also a Whore for Lana Del Rey.

Nature is a place where I can feel at peace. I adore watching little animals scurry around and birds fly across the sky. Cloud watching is also very fun (don’t knock it ‘til you try it).

My favorite colors are green and yellow, and no, I will not choose just one.

I am American (oof) but I don’t celebrate the 4th of July unless it’s Joel Miller’s BBQ party. Also not to get political (but yes, I am going there) I am pro-choice, supporter of BLM, part of the LGBTQ+ community (lesbian), I love pronouns and will respect whichever ones you go by, and TRANS LIVES MATTER. This is a safe space and I want to make that abundantly clear.

I can’t think of any more facts without spilling my guts on this post so I am going to leave it at that. I would love to get to know my followers so drop a fun fact about yourself in the comments! It can be anything! I love getting to know people :)

Here is a silly little picture of me absolutely geeking at Harry Potter World 🤓

Also I want to tag a few moots who I adore/want to get to know better! Love you -jenna

@cool-iguana @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin @breakfastatjoels @bastardmandennis @alejaa-a @planet-marz1 @dilfspitdrinker @mondaychildsworld @chaotic-mystery

[seasurfacefullofclouds1]

i’m a licensed esthetician and skincare professional and i think louis looks wonderful lmao - he’s not going to have the same amount of collagen in his skin and facial fat that he had in his 20s or as a teenager, because that’s just how aging works (unless you get fillers like other celebrities).

he’s in his 30s so he’s absolutely not “graying prematurely”. premature graying with white people is gray hair by the time someone is in their 20s. it could be genetics, but he’s been in a high stress environment since he was 18 years old and dealt with traumatizing, life altering circumstances and tragedies back to back. my own father is the most resilient person i know, but he had an almost completely full head of white/gray hair by the time he was 30 for the same reasons.

they need to focus on their fav’s receding hairline that’s been making headlines and been the subject of numerous gossip columns since 2015 and stay out louis’ sexy asf silver fox business

lol agree!

Also? It’s weird that L/Harries interpret “bad skin” or “gray hair” as some sort of immoral trait?

I don’t think I’ve looked at photos of Harry for more than two minutes TOTAL for the last year, but Harries and Larries are going over Louis’ pictures with a magnifying glass to find nonexistent flaws.

But then again, Anne Twist had to scurry to social media & beg strangers not to tease her ADULT son about his hairline, so I guess these fans have been trained to focus on looks instead of actual personality.

Thanks for the ask! I had a good laugh.

[freakylilnutjob]

Thank you for tagging me @asxitxis!!

Nickname: I have about five for my “real name” and then Sam so six total I guess

Sign: Gemini

Height: 5’10”

Last thing I googled: how to make holey jeans

Song stuck in my head: it’s not even released or announced, it’s literally just a snippet, but I think it’s gonna be called Afterthought by The Band CAMINO, its on their tiktok and it’s been stuck in my head for DAYS l, but for an actual released song that’s stuck in my head it’s Lightning by Josie Dunne

Number of followers: ~340 last time I checked

Amount of sleep: about 7hrs last night but the quality was shit

Dream job: something music related/adjacent like sound engineer, concert production, concert photographer and also maybe writing on the side

Wearing: my “I want more berries and that funny feeling” teddy bear knock off Gucci shirt from Etsy and some jeans from H&M

Movies/books that summarize me: I Was Born For This, The Perks of Being A Wallflower, Solitaire, Empire Records, Pretty In Pink, The Breakfast Club

Favorite Song: oh god… I’m putting four: Lights Up by Harry Styles l, Home by cavetown, Haunted by The Band CAMINO, Mr. Bojangles by Nitty Gritty Dirt Band

Favorite instrument: hmm probably guitar, I wish I knew how to play it

Aesthetic: Whimsigoth with a bit of cottage core and grunge

Favorite author: Alice Oseman

Random fun fact: I have an estheticians license

No pressure tags: @simplyjustsimping @potato-jem @charliespringsleftconverse @idealism-sits-in-prison @lokiawriter @songonthewind @rainbow-ace @that-monochrome-rainbow @yesterdayorcenturiesbefore and anyone else who wants to do it!

[princess-xeon]

parisocial relationships & rebirth

damn guys it took me forever to process this post!1!!!!111!!!

pain!!!! but it's okay lets catch up.

as per usual i am merging all of my interests and somehow colliding them simultaneously. esthetician school has been good thankfully. im used to the trails and tribulations of capitalism and the beauty industry. me used to it lol. aside from that; i saw Frost Children for the third time in concert as well as atlgrandma and Dorian Electra for the second time. granted it was phenomenal as to be expected but the short lived conversation that i ended up having with Lulu and Angel was semi heart breaking. but i wont let my favorite artists becoming more mainstream affect my live for them again. i have learned to distance myself from expectations and unhealthy parisocial relationships and instead just continue to love people unconditionally. because people like frost children work so hard to make a name for themselves and their art and i will always deeply respect and appreciate that. i told Lulu that i had a very intense depressive episode recently and that their art got me out of that. they were a little startled to hear that (i should've expected that) but they were so kind as always reassuring me that they're happy that im doing better but that what they do isn't even all that serious. but thats the point. i love not taking life seriously. it makes life so much more fun and enjoyable not only for myself but for others as well. regardless i will always love Angel and Lulu. i will always respect the fact that they're such genuine and kind souls while also having fun and encouraging others to stick a middle finger up to the predictable.

i am blessed that i am somewhat out of that rut again. i just had to listen to those who love me. i love my friends more than anything. when i went to that show last night i went with my best friend Lex. i love her more than anything because she keeps me grounded and reminds me that my existence is important and valid. and that you can be a fan of artists such as JPEGMAFIA and remain to be queer as fuck. she's so fucking awesome and i will always appreciate that about her. she treasures me that aside from my traumas of narcissists i will never have the ill intent (hopefully) to end up like someone of that sorts.

i will never forgive thou that shall not be named for how they made me feel. cutting narcissists out of my life was one of the best decisions that i have ever made in my entire life. unfortunately not everyone appreciates and savors unconditional love. i wish i could love every being the same, but some people just refuse to let me in. that is their issues and nothing of my concern.

ive been watching a lot of Drew Monson's youtube videos. he reminds me of the people in my life that i love. and he basically saved my life. his quick witted humor and loveable personality keeps a warmth in my heart. when i was going through my episode, he understood me and helped me out of it through humor, love for pop culture, and overall relatable qualities that i find hard to find from others.

anyways. im going to take a break from chronically online to try to write a poem for my grandma. in conclusion. i will always love Dorian Electra, for reminding me that irony can be sexy and fantastic in queer artistry. that disappointment is okay, and that swaggery always oozes out of me as well as you. no matter how you choose to express it.

much love. 5 ever 👁‍🗨🙏🏻🕊 ~ princess xeon

PIC CREDITS 4 THOSE WHO CARE

1. Dorian Electra performing ‘Puppet’ live recorded from my camcorder

2. An infrared selfie I took from my camcorder

3. My coworker and friend drag legend Banshee Rose performing at Oil Can Harry’s

4. A whisper that I made

5. A photoshoot with Angel and Lulu from Frost Children

6. A cool pic that I found from Pinterest

7. The icon Shaye St John

8. A collage by yours truly

9. My new favorite shirt that I got from the Frost Children concert last night

10. My favorite book at the moment

11. Chloe Cherry :3

12. A cool pic I found from tik tok 🙄

13. Alice Longyu Gao DJing and being iconic

14. Bunny girl :D

[fallingsunflower]

Lmaooooooo i finally asked my friend- the master esthetician- what she thought of the serum. Apparently it is not actually a serum for skincare it’s a “shimmer primer serum.” So it’s a shimmery primer you put on before foundation, it’s not even skincare. She was like “it doesn’t replace serums”. Good job being bad at everything you do Pleasing, I hate you so much.

Friendly reminder that hating Pleasing does not mean hating Harry since I know people will take it as that 🫶

[chmpgne-coast]

Well, hey there! My names Nicole, and I am just obsessed with skincare. I have worked in luxury skincare for over three years now, causing my passion and hunger for it to absolutely skyrocketed. Every month my job does speciality training, and I myself go off and learn about the new and tried and trues of skincare from the ingredients, applications, and dupes. I've decided since I do this for my friends all the time, that I will be trying my best to make a side hustle out of it! So with that being said, I'm here to share my wealth of skincare knowledge with you!

*Disclaimer, I am not a licensed dermatologist, I am a skincare specialist. These skincare routines are here to help you make sure you are using what works best with your skin*

By answering just a few simple questions, I am able to curate the best skincare routine for you! This includes a thoroughly researched list of products, whether that be natural, vegan, cruelty free, or any other preference you may have, and a detailed how-to on how to properly use each item in your routine to ensure you get the best results from your skincare! I can cover dry skin, oily skin, dehydrated skin, enlarged pores, combo skin, aging skin, textured skin, sensitive, and mild acne skin. For over 3 years I have been a skincare specialist in luxury skincare. Every month, my company assigns skincare training on products and the skin it self to keep our brains fresh and knowledgeable so we can deliver the best services. Not only do I work in skincare, I have a crazy passion and hunger for the skincare world that needs to be fed daily. I am constantly keeping myself updated with what's new, (and tried and true old,) in the skincare world, and I want to share my wealth of knowledge with you! 

I’m running this through fiverr.com, so here is the link! https://www.fiverr.com/share/2p40b4

[spidermaninlove]

Tomdaya Timeline vol. 4

whLinks to vol. 1, vol. 2, vol. 3, vol. 5, and vol. 6

December 26, 2021 - January 1, 2022 (approximate dates)

Tom and Z on a baecation along with Noon at The Madison Club in La Quinta, California.  link link2 link3 link4 link5

January Euphoria Interviews

Z stated numerous times that Tom was very supportive during the filming of Euphoria season two.  link link1 link2

January 3, 2022

Tom and Z once again spotted by fans at Matsuhisa in Beverly Hills.  link

January 4, 2022

Tom in Las Vegas at CES 2022 for Uncharted promo.

January 5, 2022

Tom departed Las Vegas.  link

January 6, 2022

During Euphoria press, Z said, “He (Tom) supported me through the whole season.”  link

January 9, 2022

Z reposted to her story, a set photo with Tom in it.  link

January 11, 2022

Tom was spotted at In-N-Out in LA.  link

January 12, 2022

Tom spotted in Beverly Hills.  link

January 13, 2022

Tom and Z went out to dinner with friends.  link

January 14, 2022

If they were able to portal, Tom and Z would visit one another more often.  link

Z gave Tom’s Prada post 5 😍!  link

Z’s dad posted to his story the video clip of Tom and Z’s response about using portals to see one another more often.  link

January 18, 2022

According to Dom, Tom is in London.

Kingston

January 18 - 23, 2022

There are numerous confirmed and unconfirmed sightings of Z with Tom in Kingston and London with friends and family, as well as just the two of them.

Confirmed:  

They were holding hands while shopping on Wednesday, January 19.  On Friday, January 21, they were very cuddly at a pub, and Z rested her head on Tom’s shoulder while they were there.  link link2 link3 link4 link5

Tom and Z saw Harry Potter and the Cursed Child in London on Saturday, January 22.  link4

Tom and Z were papped at his parents’ house on Saturday, January 22.  link link2 link3 link4 link5

Tom and Z, along with Paddy, Nikki, Harry, and Latisha, arriving at the Palace Theater to see Harry Potter and the Cursed Child on Saturday, January 22.  link

February 5, 2022

Z’s grandmother, Daphne, allegedly told an esthetician she’s always on Facetime with Z and Tom.  link

February 9, 2022

Z allegedly spotted Facetiming Tom at Safeway in the Bay Area.  Tom called Z “babe”.  link link2 link3

February 10, 2022

Tessa likes Z and Tom agreed when Z was called his other half on the BBC Radio 1 morning show.  link

February 15, 2022

Tom and Z were papped holding hands and going out to dinner in NY.  Tom was holding Z’s coat.  link link2

February 16, 2022

Tom and Z papped out and about and shopping at Prada with Harry, Darnell, and Jack in NY.  link link2 link3 link4

Tom and Z at their hotel in NY.  link

Tom and Z departing their hotel to attend the Uncharted event at the AMC Lincoln Square 13 theater in NY.  link link2 link3 link4 link5 link6

Tom and Z leaving the Uncharted event.  link

February 17, 2022

It appears Z purchased a Bulgari B.Zero1 ring for Tom.  link

Tom and Z attended the Rangers vs Red Wings NHL game at Madison Square Garden in NY.  link  While at the game, they bought Rangers jerseys.   link2 link3 link4 link5 They were photographed holding hands during the game.  link6 

Tom was wearing a “Zendaya” Rangers jersey and Z wore a “Holland” jersey.  link link2 

February 21 - 22, 2022

Tom surprised Z by by flying from NY to Rome.  Note:  He had a connecting flight in London.  link link2 link3 link4

February 23, 2022

Tom and Z dined at Antica Pesa, a restaurant where Tom ate while he was in Rome for Uncharted.  link link2 link3 link4 link5

February 23 and 24, 2022

Tom and Z arriving at the back entrance of her hotel in Rome.  link

February 25, 2022

Tom and Z departed Rome -- Tom flew back to NY and Z returned to LA.

Tiktoker urfavesophiiaa, the girl who sat next to Tom on the flight from Rome to London, confirmed Tom’s lockscreen is a photo of him and Z.  link link2

February 28, 2022

Z posted her Uncharted theater ticket to her story.  link

March 11, 2022

Tom and Z were spotted at a hotel gym, Brooklyn Bridge Park, and DUMBO House.  link link2 link3

March 20, 2022

Tom with Z in Boston.  link link2 link3 link4 link5 link6 link7 link8 link9 link10 link11 link12

March 22, 2022

Tom and Z’s stylist, Law Roach, confirmed they are a couple.  link

March 27, 2022

Z’s grandmother, Daphne, allegedly has a framed photo of Tom and Z on her table.  link

April 2, 2022

Numerous sightings of Tom and Z in Hudson Yards near the Edge.  They were also spotted at a nearby Starbucks.  link link2 link3

April 9, 2022

Z had her nails done in NY.  link  Tom and Z spotted at Whipped Urban Dessert in NY and at RDJ’s birthday dinner.  link link2

April 10, 2022

Tom and Z had dinner together.  link

April 15-18, 2022

Z in NY.  link  Confirmed and unconfirmed sightings of Tom and Z dining at various NY establishments (Confirmed sightings:  Planta Queen and Hawksmoor).  link link2 link3

April 23-24, 2022

Tom and Z spotted dining out, strolling, holding hands, and having a pottery painting date in Boston.  link link2 link3 link4 link5 link6 link7 link8 link9 link10 link11 link12

May 7, 2022

Tom and Z dined at Angela’s in Boston.  link link2  They were spotted at a movie theater in Boston as well.  link link2 link3 link4

May 28, 2022

Z with Tom at Soho House in NYC and at Times Square (near Broadway).  link link2 link3  

Confirmed sighting of Tom and Z at the Broadway play Come From Away.  link link2

June 1, 2022

Z wishing Tom the happiest of birthdays

June 4, 2022

Tom and Z celebrated his and Darnell’s birthdays at Moxy in NY East Village.  link link2 link3

June 11, 2022

Tom with Z at a Yvonne’s restaurant in Boston.  link link2

June 12, 2022

Tom and Z in Massachusetts today.  link

June 18-19, 2022

Z spotted with Tom in NY.

June 26, 2022

Tom with Z at Melba’s in NY.  link link2 link3 link4 link5

July 2022

It appears Tom and Z fostered a dog named Pistachio.  link

Tom and Z allegedly were with Beyonce and Jay-Z on a boat in Sag Harbor.  link

July 1, 2022

Tom and Z leaving Terra restaurant and at a nail salon in NYC.  link link2

July 2, 2022

Tom and Z at Savant Studios in Brooklyn.  link

July 3, 2022

Tom and Z stopped by HYPEGOLF Clubhouse, and were spotted by a fan in SoHo.  link link2 link3  They were spotted by another fan while eating at a restaurant.  link4

July 5, 2022

Tom and Z leaving Radio City Music Hall in Rockefeller Center where Tom was filming TCR.  link link2 link3

July 6, 2022

Z spotted on the TCR set today coming out of Tom’s trailer.  link link2 link3 link4

July 13, 2022

Z required stitches on her finger that she cut while cooking dinner for Tom.  link

July 14, 2022

Tom and Z stopped by Ruby’s Cafe.  link  

Z on the set of TCR in Hastings-on-Hudson, NY.  link link2 link3 link4 link5

July 15, 2022

Tom and Z had breakfast at Maman in Tribeca.  link link2

August 4, 2022

Tom was knitting (Z knits) while en route to Budapest.  link link2 link3

August 6, 2022

Tom in Budapest with Z.  link 

August 25, 2022

Tom departed JFK for Budapest.  link

August 26, 2022

Tom in Budapest with Z.  link link2 link3

August 27, 2022

Z and Tom rode scooters along the Danube River in Budapest.  They also chartered a boat to cruise the Danube and enjoyed a fireworks display while on the river.  link link2 link3 link4 link5 link6

August 28, 2022

Tom returned to NY.  En route to NY, he stopped in London for a brief visit with his family.  link

August 29, 2022

Z arrived in NY.  link

September 1, 2022

Tom and Z celebrated her birthday at MAMO.  link link2

September 2, 2022

Tom and Z were holding hands after grabbing coffee in NY.  link link2 link3

September 8, 2022

Tom filmed TCR on location at Snug Harbor on Staten Island.  Z was photographed at a nearby coffee shop where she was accompanied by Harry Holland .  She was also spotted on set with Tom.  link link2

September 10, 2022

Z departed NY.

September 12, 2022

Z texted Tom after winning her Emmy!  link  She also called Tom part of her loved ones.  link2

September 13, 2022

Z returned to Budapest.

October 6, 2022

Tom took the Eurostar from London to Paris to see Z.  link link2

October 7, 2022

Tom and Z at the Louvre in Paris.  link link2 link3 link4 link5 link6 link7 link8 link9 link10

October 8, 2022

Tom and Z out tonight in Paris. link link2

October 6-9, 2022

Tom and Z stayed in the penthouse at the Bulgari Hotel in Paris.  link

October 29, 2022

Alleged sighting of Tom visiting Z in Jordan.  link

November 3, 2022

Law confirmed Tom and Z are a couple and have been secretly in love forever.  link

[mouseval-blog]

[wellthatwasaletdown]

Omg I looked at that harry and lizzo new selfie and yes omg he is already using botox I work with two ladies who are estheticians and he definitely has cause you see he is raising his eyebrows but his forehead didn't move 💀💀

.