burgundy belt

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Dangerously

Shout out to my main bitch @lilli-jo for coming up with this concept and making me type “OMG” into my phone over and over again! This one’s for you! Love you.


“Olivia! Hurry up! I need the Calvin Klein sweaters now!“ the stylist shouted and Olivia hurried to the rack of designer clothing, looking for the grey sweaters.

“Okay, so when is this teenage star coming in?” Philippe, the photographer asked, scrolling through his iPad and Catherine rolled her eyes.

“In twenty minutes. And can you please be a little bit quicker, Olivia? Thank you!”

Olivia was about to lose it as she aggressively looked through the rack until finally finding those damn CK sweaters.

“What’s his shoe size?” the stylist asked and her assistant looked at her notes.

“Um… 11. And he’s 6’3’’. Really tall! He could model with that face and body of his”

Catherine looked at the polaroids her assistant was holding. She frowned, furrowing her perfectly arched eyebrows. “He should stick to singing,” she replied icily and Olivia had to hold back from rolling her eyes.

She knew she needed this internship. She knew this magazine was one of the best ones and she knew it would look good on her CV. But she wanted to quit since day one. And she didn’t know how she would survive the next weeks.

“OLIVIA!”

“Yes?”

“Get me those black Ferragamo shoes. Size 11! NOW!”

“Sure,” Olivia said through gritted teeth, making her way down to the basement to look for the designer shoes that cost more than her rent.

Coming back, shoes in hand, she placed them next to the neatly folded outfit. Black pants, a nice button-down-shirt, a belt.

And then he came in.

And Olivia had to blink. Twice.

Because, well, she just had to stare. Feeling incredibly stupid.

“Hello!” he said and Olivia could feel a shiver running down her spine, his soft voice touching her deep inside and she gulped.

What the actual fuck, Liv?!

Brown curls, chiseled jawline, hazel eyes and a million-dollar-smile, tall and handsome as hell, he walked up to the photographer.

“Hi Shawn,” Philippe said, sounding almost bored, shaking his hand and Olivia disappeared behind her rack.

“Hello, uh… Shawn!” Catherine said, looking at her notes. “Nice to meet you! How are you?”

“I’m fine, thanks. How are you?”

“Good, good. Are you ready for the photoshoot?”

He nodded. “Sure. I’m a bit jetlagged but I’m ready for this.”

“Okay, great,” Catherine cooed and led him to the back of the studio, handing him the clothes.

“Please change into that, okay?”

“Sure,” he replied and Olivia peeked through the clothes, noticing how his back muscles moved and she felt so silly, hiding behind her rack that she closed her eyes.

She wanted to slap herself. There she was, acting like a crazy hormonal fangirl, lusting over some teenage popstar who didn’t even know she existed. Let alone her name.

Olivia looked on as the photoshoot started, crossing her arms in front of her chest. She nibbled on her bottom lip as he started to move in front of the camera. It looked effortlessly and he was told to not to smile.

He was looking at the camera through hooded eyes, tilting his head back a little, plump lips, a nice neck, his adams apple moving slightly and Olivia had to swallow thickly.

Philippe asked him to lay down and Olivia almost jumped as the stylist’s assistant yelled her name across the room.

“WHERE IS SHE? OLIVIA!”

“I’m here,” Olivia said, her voice coming out raspy and hoarse.

“We should roll his sleeves up! Can you do that? I have to take this call!”

Olivia could feel the heat in her cheeks as they turned pink. Fuck.

She walked over to the photographer and knelt down.

And for the first time he saw her. Acknowledging her existence and his eyes widened a little as she got on her knees in front of him.

“Hi,” he whispered.

“Hi,” Olivia rasped back, sounding shy and insecure and she hated herself for it.

“Seems like I need a little help, huh?” he chuckled and Olivia smiled.

“May I?” she asked before touching him and he nodded.

“Of course.”

With trembling fingers, she rolled his sleeves up, exposing his perfect, veiny forearms and he looked at her. Intently.

Intense eye contact, making her look up.

“Are you cold?” he asked, frowning, noticing her ice cold fingers.

“Y-yeah, a bit”

Shawn propped himself up on one elbow.

“Hey! Can we turn the AC off, please? Um… what’s your name?” he breathed against her face and Olivia’s heart forgot how to work properly.

“Olivia”

“Olivia’s cold!”

The photographer huffed a laugh. “Oh, she’s actually just an intern. No one cares how she’s feeling. Sorry, sweetie! The sooner you learn the rules, the better”

Olivia tensed up, anger raising in her chest and Shawn could feel that.

He frowned, furrowing his brows, eyes dark.

“Well, she’s still a part of this team! Where’s the AC? I’ll turn it off”

“Over there,” the photographer replied, sounding annoyed, nodding his head to the back of the room and Shawn got up, strutting through the room, taking long strides.
He turned the AC off with a forceful click, snapping his long fingers at it.

“Better?” he asked with a casual smile, lying down again and Olivia nodded, freezing in place.

“Y-yes… thanks”

He smiled, apparently pleased with himself. 

Philippe looked through the photos and scrunched his nose. “I hate the belt, Liv! Where’s the Balenciaga one? The one with the cool clasp?”

“On the pile over there,” Olivia responded, getting up, reaching for the burgundy belt.

“You need to help him with the belt, Liv, the clasp is tricky,” Catherine chirped from behind her. “Don’t be shy, honey, he doesn’t bite”

Shawn took his belt off and he looked her in the eye, hazel eyes dark. Touching her knuckles he said: “You don’t have to do that,” he whispers.

Olivia could swear that his touch made her skin tickle and she shook her head. “No, it’s okay! The clasp really is tricky”

She handed him the belt and he pulled it through the loops of his pants.

With shaking hands, she closed the clasp, not believing that her hands where this close to his crotch. She could feel him suck his breath in and she avoided eye contact, turning the silver clasp around.

“Thank you,” he said and she felt his breath on her temple.

She looked down and up at him. “You’re welcome. Just doing my job here”

Belt It

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