So here’s part one of the Boss!Harry thing I’ve been working on recently. I’ve got more parts written for this that I’m working on and I think it’s a pretty great story that I’ve got planned. I hope you like it as much as I’ve liked working on it! Enjoy x
The storm is in full force outside with the rain hammering down against the windows of the loft space you had found weeks ago for the party. It was one of the first assignments Harry had given you, inviting you in to his office on your very first day and telling you that you were going to organise the biggest party the company had ever thrown…or at least this century. After the initial fear and the realisation that nobody was going to help you, you’d gone out of your way to find this place to prove yourself to him; the ceilings are high and the open upstairs looks over the main floor below, with two bars at either end of the room, and plush sofas and cushions around the outside.
The weather man had told you all for days ahead that the storm was coming and your boss had unexpectedly insisted that you brought your clothes in to work today so you could jump in to his car instead of going home beforehand. He was unusually nice to you, in comparison to everybody else, but you put it down to being new, and that maybe after a few months he’d start to treat you with same contempt he does others.
He’s so judgemental and moody all the time at work. Any attempt at a joke from the office gets a sarcastic laugh followed by silence and he never notices when anybody does anything right for him. If they do something wrong, however, they’d be lucky to make it to the end of the week without having one of their big projects taken away and be given to somebody else as punishment for being unable to complete something as simple as a brief for a meeting.
You clean up your face in the bathroom mirrors where your eye make has smudged a little from the downpour between leaving the car and entering the building. He was still a little rude by taking the umbrella for himself but the lift was a shock all on its own; any more and you’d have been asking too much of the world. The bathroom is cold without as many people’s body heat radiating like it is in the main room and you make the trip quick so as to avoid freezing to death, making your way back in to the party, mingling with the other guests.
“Drink?” A smiley Harry hands you an empty glass as he catches up with you heading towards the bar. He’s got an open bottle of champagne in his hand and a ‘you know you want one’ look on his face. You give him a small thanks as he fills the glass before you’ve even say yes, sliding a hand down to the small of your back afterwards, and gently escorting your to the bar. With his fingers lingering on your bare skin, you silently congratulate yourself at wearing the backless number that had been hanging on your bedroom door for a while, unworn until now.
It isn’t a crush - not really. There’s just something about him which makes you long for his attention and want to impress him all the time. Remembering his favourite coffee from the artisan coffee shop next door to the office earns you a smile each morning, making sure you arrange for all his meetings to finish by six each night seems to help in making him less grumpy with you than he is with everyone else, and staying late to help him out when he has too much work on his desk…well, that’s more for your enjoyment than his.
Request: Can you make a ethan x reader where you are a fan of ethan and you live in LA working at a coffee shop. One day ethan comes in and you act like you dont know him but on his cup instead of writing ethan you write blue boi and he notices? you can write what you want after then thanks!
A/N: Im pretty sure I’ve seen a fiction like this before, so full credit to that and I don’t want to be seen as copying, but it made me laugh to think about this now he has brown hair, so I couldn’t resist writing it!
Ethan X Reader
Summary: With the high-end coffee shop across town closed for the week, lots of new faces appear in the coffee shop the reader works at. One of which more familiar than the others.
Warnings: Cursing, Mentions of food/drink
Non Gender Specific pronouns for reader
You’ve been a barista for coming up to eight months now, and you’d never served anyone famous, despite how many celebs live in LA. You gave up hope long ago, knowing they all go to the coffee bar across town that’s twice as expensive. You were happy with your job and you had gotten to know your regular customers and you always felt comfortable at work with how relaxed it was compared to the snobby places people go to when stalking famous people.
You woke up early and fixed up some breakfast, before changing into your black work jeans and shirt, and then getting cosy in your soft blue sweater. You ran a comb through your hair and grabbed your bag as you practically skipped along your driveway. The crispy leaves on the ground made you so happy, you loved fall.
As you got behind the counter you noticed a slightly different crowd, you didn’t recognise all the people who sat down sipping their drinks, and even your co-workers seemed oddly dressed up for a Wednesday morning.
“Am I missing something here? Is like a big management boss coming?” You ask in confusion to a fellow barista.
“It’s just cause the fancy place across town is shut down for renovation so everyone got all excited thinking a movie star might walk in, but all I’ve served is some snobbish rich people who think they’re better than me. I mean, they probably are, but that’s not the point.” They respond and laugh, before welcoming a customer. You look around at all the upper class families and roll your eyes in disgust. You can do this, you can handle shitty people.
A few hours passed and you were practically praying to see one of the sweet old ladies that come in daily after the crowd of snobs you’d been serving. You were wiping down the counter tops as you notice a group come in, and go to take orders from the man who stepped up first.
“Hi-” You silenced yourself as you met his gaze. You’d forgotten he had brown hair now and so you assumed it was a stranger, but you knew him. It was your idol, your favourite youtuber. You quickly snapped out of it, hating to embarrass yourself. “What can I get you?” You smiled as you listened.
“The name is Ethan by the way.” He smiled as you froze in confusion. The cup!He’s telling you so you can write it on the cup!
“Yes! Sorry! My brain’s a little slow today, I apologise.” You just want to scream and hug him, but you resist, both for his comfort and so you don’t get fired. You walk over the coffee machine and grab the pen, and scribble onto it, making sure to be clear and readable.
You then make the coffee, and smile as you place the lid on top and call his name. He walked over without breaking the conversation he was having, briefly thanking you as he took the cup and headed for a table. You grabbed your cloth and started wiping to seem busy, as you watched out the corner of your eye.
“Did you tell them to write Ethan?” His friend questioned, looking at the cup.
“Yeah, why is this not mine?” He asked as he turned the cup to look for the name.
“Oh its yours for sure.” They giggle as he soon notices the writing and grins.
You find yourself grinning too, before quickly getting back to cleaning as to not seem creepy or stalker-ish. You could tell he was looking at you, which made you both immensely happy as well as a little nervous. You had to do something.
An idea lit up your mind as you found your boss and convinced them this was important as he was within the public eye and so they wanted him to feel good about the coffee shop for publicity, and you soon headed over to his table, a plate in hand. He noticed you approaching and smiled at you, you felt so giddy you nearly dropped the plate, but played it cool.
“I heard your usual shop gives out free cookies with drinks, but I also heard they cant guarantee it to be nut free, so I thought you might like to try some definitely nut free cake as a “this coffee shop wont try and kill you” gift.” You smile as you place the plate down at the edge of the table. His eyes light up at the sight.
“You didn’t have to do that! But I really appreciate it, thank you so much.” Ethan speaks as you can practically feel your heart flipping with joy.
“You’re so welcome! I appreciate you too, Crank.” You wink as you turn and head back to the till. You’re glad its a full 180 turn so he cant see how red you turn as you curse at yourself for calling him crank? and then winking???
You went back to work and caught the occasional smile from Ethan, so he clearly didn’t hate you for being so awkward.
The week went by and you saw him most days, sometimes just flying by to get drinks for the team, sometimes sitting down with friends, and you’d always try to sneak them free cakes and cookies when you could.
Then came Monday. You woke up late with a dry throat and a sneeze. Great. You must have caught a cold from the different crowd of people coming into work. You dragged yourself out of bed and stared at the zombie that looked back at you in the mirror. You washed your face and shoved your hair into a messy knot on top of your head as you rushed to chuck on some clothes and leave for work.
Today the coffee place across town re-opened. You tried to stay positive and be grateful that you wouldn’t have to deal with so many rude snobs, but nothing could cover up how much you were going to miss having Ethan around.
You dived into work, apologising for being late, and your heart was soon warmed by the lovely old lady you’d seen daily for the past 4 months. You enjoyed catching up with your customers, hearing about cats stuck up trees and their relatives getting into college. As you cleaned up a table with ten minutes of your shift to go, your head felt foggy and the cold made you tired. You accidentally launched a napkin off the table, and as you went to retrieve it, someone beat you to it.
“Looking awake as ever! You know coffee is pretty good at waking you up. You should try it sometime.” They spoke, sarcastically.
You wanted to scream and leap into his arms at the sight of your blue boi, but you had to stop yourself from getting too excited. You took the napkin and smiled.
“You know your usual place is back open, right? It was only a week long renovation.” You ask, confused as to why he returned.
“Yeah I know. But its cosy here, and they overcharged at that place anyway. Plus where else can I get free food that wont kill me? As well as said free food being delivered by pretty staff members who call me Crank to piss me off?” He said with a smile. He thinks you’re pretty?
“Not looking too great today” you say as you twist your mess of a bun between your fingers as a curl comes loose.
“Looking pretty cranky I’d say.” He winked as he lifted the tray and emptied it into the trash for you. You blushed as you walked over to the counter.
“What will it be, blue boi?” You ask he decides on a drink, your co-worker offers to make it, reminding you that you’re off the clock. Ethan picks up on it.
“As you’re done for the day can I get a side of company with my beverage?” He smirks, gesturing at a table for two.
“Sure. It’s an extra twenty dollars though is that okay?” You smirk back, his face soon sinks thinking you’ve rejected him.
“Kidding. Take a seat, I’ll bring them out.” You giggled as you got to making his drink. By company standards you usually paint a leaf onto the foam with chocolate, but you decided to have some fun and carefully crafted a gizmo into the foam. You removed your apron and pulled on a fluffy sweater, then grabbed two slices of chocolate fudge cake and headed over to the table.
“Care for some fudge cake with your cranky coffee?” You smile as you placed the tray, Ethan’s face lighting up at the sight.
“Oh my god! Its Gizmo! and he’s adORABLE!” He smiled like a kid in a candy shop, before pulling out his phone to take a photo. You giggled as you watched him and sipped your drink, before asking his opinion on the cake as you’d heard its a new recipe (and of course, nut free.) The two of you talked as if you’d been friends for a lifetime, and to top it all off, the cake was delicious.
I am collecting a handful of my favourite
YOI fics in one list so I can keep track and maybe you’ll find something to
read. Due to my lack of planning and my growing to-read list, this post will be
Most of these are very well known as is but
I’ll feature them anyway.
Otabek Altin/Yuri Plisetsky Rating: T Tags: Slow Burn, Post-Canon, Mutual Pining,
Aged-Up Character(s), Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, canon until grand
prix 2016 Continuing
*throws rose petals on this fic* Soldier
Boy is my favourite canon-verse Otayuri fic and I am comfortable admitting it.
Renée is a wonderful wonderful writer, the characterization in this story is so
beautifully done and I cannot wait to see the next chapter when it’s complete.
Otabek Altin/Yuri Plisetsky Rating: Mature Tags: Pool Hustler AU, Pool & Billiards,
gender fluid Yuri Plisetsky, Homophobic Language, Underage Drinking, Yuri is 20,
Otabek is 23, Established Relationship, Childhood Friends, high school
sweethearts, smoking mention, Blow Jobs, Hair Pulling, Anal Sex, Crying During
Sex, Valentines Day Fic Complete
If you haven’t read HBB; crawl out of your
cave, grab yourself a glass of wine and make yourself comfortable. Sarah always
floors me with her way with words but this fic is my favourite of all her fics.
It’s raw, emotional, gritty, heart breaking and sexy. I love the way she fits
side characters into the story, I love the way the story sucks you in and makes
you stalk the characters around instead of just watching them. Every tiny
detail works so well and I can’t say enough good things about it. (It also made
me read The Hustler which is a decision I do not regret.)
Yuri Okisetsky/Jean-Jacques Leroy Rating: Explicit Tags: Porn with Feelings, Dirty Talk, Skype, Sexting, Feelings Realization, Anal
Sex, Anal Fingering, Long-Distance Relationship, Rimming, Future Fic, Fuckboy
with a Heart of Gold, Spanking Complete
This fic introduced me to @machinewithoutfeelings so I am
thankful for it but it also features the most frustrating sexting attempt of
all time so do yourselves a favour and read it. It’s so hot and so funny, I absolutely
love Pliroy and I’ll hear nothing against it. Characterization is so damn good,
I’ve waited every chapter of this with bated breath and it did not disappoint
Otabek Altin/Yuri Plisetsky Rating: T Tags: Marriage, Angst Complete
Fuck you Ronnie. This is Proper Angst, read it at your own risk. It is so good but maybe it would not do you
good if you are feeling fragile, because it broke my heart in all the good ways
and I am still sad about it. Ronnie is a fantastic writer, it’s a shame we
cannot make her sit down and hand us devastating fic over devastating fic while
we invested in Kleenex.
Jean-Jacques Leroy/Otabek Altin/Yuri
Plisetsky Rating: Explicit Tags: bad morals, Bad Friends, Comedy, Porn
Watching, Non-Consensual Voyeurism, Crack, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot Complete
This is a recent favourite but I have
strong feelings for it. Someone help JJ. If there is a winner combo, it is otapliroy
to me, establishing of it in this fic is hysterical and exactly the situation I
can imagine JJ being in. Otabek is hot, Yuri is a boss, JJ is hot and bothered,
it is so freaking good.
Yuri Plisetsky/Otabek Altin Rating: Explicit Tags: Alternate Universe – Escorts, Alternate
Universe – Prostitution, Escort Service, Aged-Up Character(s), POV Otabek, showering
together, Anal Sex, Otabek is a bit of a voyeur, Voyeurism, Yuri is referred to
by a different name for most of the first chapter, Blow Jobs, Anal Fingering, Spanking,
Flexibility, Hair-pulling, Unsafe Sex, (and many more) Continuing
Escort!Yuri-AU was something I have been
purposefully looking for when I found this fic and it was a good discovery. 6
chapters in and more to come, I am loving the big boss businessman Otabek and
The inspiration for this story comes from two of Shawn’s songs I am currently very obsessed with. Based upon Roses and Treat You Better, this is the story of a 24 year old journalist encountering 19 year old pop sensation Shawn Mendes. Super awesome shoutout to @nothingholdinmeback for helping me better focus my thoughts. This is going to be a series so I am excited to see where this goes. Please enjoy and I gladly welcome all feedback, good and bad!
“We always long for the forbidden things, and desire what is denied us.”- Francois Rabelais
“…and this kid is going to be fucking huge and you are the one who gets the honor of writing the story for the cover!” My boss exclaims, throwing his hands up in some semblance of jazz hands to convey the excitement I am supposed to be feeling at being told such “amazing” news.
Instead, eyes narrowing and twisting a strand of magenta tipped hair around my finger, I ask him flat out, “What the fuck is wrong with the kid?” I bite my lip, searching for the give away about why I was given the story and not a more senior writing. As far as writers go at the music magazine I work for, I am at the fucking bottom. Most of the time I am writing blurbs about albums no one else wants to listen to or fetching coffee. There is no way I am getting such an honor without there being a big catch.
My boss clears his throat, hands lowering to his side as he lets out a long sigh. “He’s just… well, we have heard he likes to have some fun with the ladies so we thought it–”
I hold up a finger. “Stop the fuck right there, Brice. Shut your mouth before I do it for you. You cannot actually be telling me you are giving me the story because this kid wants to look at a pair of tits while I am supposed to be asking him interview questions. Because that would be sexist as fuck, and I know no one here is about that. I would rather pass on doing a cover story if it means I am getting it based on what’s between my legs. Fuck that.”
Brice laughs. “And that is why we want you to write the story. The sass and wit you possess. There is no one else who can go toe to toe with this Mendes kid the way you would be able to. When we landed the chance to score him for the cover, yours was the only name I would utter because I knew you were going to be the best one for the job. Because you are a goddamn amazing writer, and you won’t deal with this kid’s shit.”
I chuckle. “So you want me to write a story about some popular pop musician but do it with sass?” I raise my eyebrows, not sure I am hearing him correctly. I am still twisting my hair around my finger, heart pounding in my chest. Holy shit. I am going to be finally writing a real piece of writing… it’s exactly what I have been waiting for.
Brice leans on the edge of my desk, crossing his arms against his chest. “Play your cards right with this one, and you could be looking at assistant editor before you are even twenty five.” He holds up a hand before I can respond, adding, “Do not fuck this up though, or you’ll lose your entire writing career.”
No pressure, right?
Being escorted into a hotel room by a security guard shouldn’t feel weird. I have been around famous people before. This kid should be no different. Albeit I had to jump on a plane to do this interview because he is travelling, but I don’t mind. It is all part of my exciting job as a writer. I went to school for this. I have worked my ass off. I have earned this completely. But I still can’t explain why I have the nervous flutters in my stomach. Could be because this is such a big deal…but the more experienced writers I work with say it should be akin to breathing. But right now I can’t breathe, and I wonder if I made a mistake to just throw on a simple black dress with a grey cardigan. Maybe I should have dressed sexier… but that isn’t me.
I look over at he’s just sitting there, watching me with these deep hazel eyes. A smirk plays at the edge of his round lips. And he has this mess of curls. Like he just runs his hands through them constantly and doesn’t care about how haphazard they exist upon his head. His phone is in his hand and he taps it against his knee, clearly waiting for me to speak.
I glance to my side, realizing the security personnel now stands by the door and not next to me. I got so lost in my thoughts for a moment and… no. This is work. He is just some fucking musician. He is younger than for me, for fucks sake. I need to stop being so damn nervous.
“Please sit down,” he says gesturing at the leather couch across from the one he is perched on. He is still smirking at me, watching my every move and I can feel the fluttering still running rampant in my stomach. Probably should have skipped the wine on the plane…
I walk over and extend my hand, introducing myself to him. My face remains neutral, the epitome of professionalism. Then I sit down, taking my bag off my shoulder and placing it next to me.
“I’m Shawn…” he says, waiting until I take my digital recorder and iPad out of my bag. He is staring at me with curiosity, I can just sense it. He reminds of the boys from high school who would stare at me just because I was “pretty” suddenly. They used to make fun of me, and then when I grew into my looks, I was suddenly worth their time. It is sad to see the male species never changes.
I hate how he affects me. It is like he knows how good he looks. I can appreciate someone’s aesthetics, and Shawn is just dripping with them from every being of his existence. He has this sharp jaw line, these taut muscles, and he is probably really good. In short, he looks fucking good for only being nineteen. But he is a kid, and he is fucking cocky about his looks. I can just tell by the way he smirks, like he expects me to fall at his feet. But that is going to happen when hell freezes over.
I just need to get the start of this interview done because I am going to be doing a whole story on him so I get to interview him multiple times before putting together the final piece. Not to mention, I am sure there is going to follow ups since he is going to be the next big thing or whatever Brice said about him. None of that matters, I am here for a job. The end.
His phone buzzes and he responds to a text, fingers flying across the screen before he puts the phone face down and looks at me. “So you are the one who is going to be writing the story about me. I thought they were going to send someone more…”he rolls his wrist, trying to search for the right words. “More male, I guess. I thought they wouldn’t want to send a woman after what happened during the last interview I had.”
I almost drop my iPad, not wanting to know what he is talking about. I was warned vaguely about Shawn, but I didn’t think he was going to talk about it to me. I am going to be recording and writing about him. You would think he would want to make a good impression. “Excuse me?” I demanded, daring him to elaborate as I turn on the digital recorder.
Those hazel eyes twinkle, watching my hands turn on the recorder and place it on the table between us. He raises an eyebrow and leans in closer, “You heard me just fine.”
“I am here to do my job, not listen to you tell me about unimportant moments in your life,” I say, opening up my iPad to the app I use for all of my note taking so I can create a cohesive piece after I listen to the audio as well. I notice there is a little bit of edge in my voice, more than I was anticipating so quickly.
“Isn’t your job to hear all about my life though?”
“Yes, but I have a purpose when I am going to be asking. I don’t need like some random commentary about things no one else gives a fuck about related to you. I am interviewing you for a music magazine so I am going to ask you about music. I don’t think it is that hard to understand,” I snap, my eyes meeting his with a challenging look.
“I can talk about music just fine,” he states, chuckling. “I was just telling you I was surprised about their choice. Of course, I am not going to complain at all. I am grateful they sent-”
“Stop,” I cut him off, not wanting to hear a bunch of bullshit lines. “Let’s just do this preliminary interview so I go back to my own hotel room and eat some fucking food because I am hungry and tired, and I am wasting my time right now listening to you change the subject over and over.”
He bites his lip, looking at me with those eyes and he smiles. It isn’t a sardonic smile either. It is a genuine smile, like he finally understands I am doing my job. It as though he sees me finally, and it causes all of the air to escape from my lungs. Those fucking eyes.
“Sorry,” he says, holding up his hands in surrender.
“Thank you,” I acquiesce, feeling calmer and wishing the air would return to my lungs. I hate the way a kid can make it so I am not able to breathe. He is younger than me, and this is my job. No more, no less.
“Usually everyone they send to interview me is old enough to almost be my parent… how old are you anyway?” Shawn questions me, leaning back against the couch and letting his mouth let go of the smirk I thought was going to be etched into his marble like face the whole time.
I blush, knowing he is going to think I am old once I tell him my age. “Um. I am twenty four. So…uh…not old enough to be your parent haha,” I force out a fake laugh, feeling my palms start to go sweaty. What the fuck is going on right now.
He raises an eyebrow. “You’re young.”
I sigh. “Not compared to you, Shawn.”
He shakes his head at me, looking at me as though I am crazy. “No, you are young. And I know you must be talented to be doing a story on me. Not to sound conceited, but I know your magazine is very well known and the cover story isn’t just handed to someone without good reason.”
Is Shawn Mendes complimenting me? Is this happening?. Fuck. There goes the air in my lungs again and my palms aren’t faring much better.
“I am okay, I guess,” I say, not wanting to talk about myself.
“You must have some type of talent to be working for such a good magazine and doing this interview. You should try and give yourself more credit sometimes. It can be good for the soul to admit you have talent.”
“Can we just do this interview so I can go eat? This is about you, not me,” I say, scanning my notes for the questions I have ready to ask him. “So… what makes this album different than the others?” I keep my eyes on my words, refusing to look at him so this can end sooner.
He is silent for a moment, eyes flickering as he wonders why I won’t elaborate anymore. Then he shrugs, not saying a word.
Shawn looks at me with the most intense gaze, knowing he is getting on my last nerve. There is something about him which gets under my skin.
I don’t need this in my life. I just wanted to do my job and be done. I had to get on a flight right after work, and I am so tired because I did not sleep last night. I don’t need Shawn Mendes to test my patience anymore. I just want this over.
“Can you answer the question?” I prompt, tapping my fingers on the edge of my iPad. Waiting.
Shawn shrugs again, the smirk returning in all of its glory.
“What about inspirations for this album… are there any particular ones you want to talk about?” I ask, sighing for a moment and wishing I was eating a pizza and soaking in a hot bath alone.
“I am always inspired by those around me..” he trails off, leaning closer with his elbows resting against his knees. The couches are close enough he could reach out and…
“Inspired by those around you..” I echo, taking quick notes and noticing how dry my mouth is. I lick my lips nervously and keep my eyes away from him. He can’t know what he does to me or this is never going to end.
Shawn nods, taking the time to let me write down some more thoughts before he decides to elaborate more on his answers. “In the past year, I have learned a lot more about who I am as a person. As in, how I am no longer a kid. I am growing up, and I think my music reflects who I am becoming and shows where I have been. It is a journey, as I am sure you know. You’re a writer too…we grow and develop. We learn who we are…what we like…what we want..” he looks at me as he speaks, hazel eyes intensely gazing at me.
“I want to be happy,” he says with a shrug, his words heavier than he will detail. “Just like everyone else.”