is it too self-indulgent to make violet, the only monster without his own claws, wear a pair of these
The Unsaid Vow (Prologue)
Synopsis- You always knew when you weren't wanted. And the way things are going in your marriage with Jungkook, a divorce is looking more and more likely. While he's getting closer to a woman at work that you're certain he's having an affair with, you're planning your escape with your four-year-old son. However, five years of marriage did not expose you to a certain side of your husband. A side of Jungkook that only gets triggered when you try to leave and break apart your perfect 'family'.
Warnings- Yandere behavior, graphic language, violence/murder, women bashing on other women, heavily implied infidelity, bad parenting, absent father, broken family vibes, very slow buildup bc Jungkook doesn't really snap until you leave him so just give him a min lol, inexperienced author writing for a four-year-old (I never wrote for a kid before pls gimme a break), also I chose my future son's name for this fic but pls feel free to name him whatever you want :)
Slow burn Yandere Husband Jungkook
Word Count; 5.4k
Unlike the vast majority of married couples, neither you nor Jungkook donned wedding rings.
Never in your five years of marriage did you regret this decision, given it was brought upon by you and your husband’s lack of funds for fancy wedding bands at the time of your rushed marriage.
Well, you were never annoyed....until tonight, that is.
The scene before you was exceptionally intimate, so much so that you felt the instinctual need to look away in respect of the two before you.
The woman was gorgeous, effortlessly attracting all the attention the small conference room had to offer. In addition to this natural charisma spurred on by her borderline enchanting looks, her short and skin-tight red dress showed off her pleasantly curvy body. Her long, silky, and jet-black hair was pulled back into an elegant ponytail that provided a simple background for her darling features. Utterly doll-like was her face; petite, creamy in complexion with bright doe eyes and berry-pink lips.
Such a beautiful woman was currently in the arms of an equally, if not more so, attractive man.
He was tall and slender, yet not at all lanky given his sturdy build that was a testament to his strict workout regime. His olive skin was complimented with occasional tattoos, a mix of faded and fresh ink that you knew like the back of your hand despite only the tats on his hand currently showing in his crisp Valentino suit. His mid-length inky black hair was down to frame his sharp face, and indeed it was a very handsome one consisting of full eyebrows, bow-like lips, a fleshy yet impish nose, and two large, yet seemingly bottomless, raven orbs.
This man had his arms encircling the middle of the mysterious woman, her expression lifting into a light-hearted giggle as she leaned forward to whisper something in his ear.
Whatever she said must’ve been amusing to the man, given his usual stoic facade briefly melted away as he allowed a small smile at her words, his pearly round teeth peeking out for a split-second appearance.
If you didn’t know any better, you would have thought that these two were lovers.
But there was only one problem with this scene.
That was your husband, Jungkook.
And that woman in his arms was not you.
As if sensing your distress and wanting to soothe your well-founded suspicion, Jungkook pulled away from the woman and ran his gaze across the room- only stopping when he spotted you. Your spouse then gestured at you, the girl following his line of sight and landing on you and your pitiful spot by the snack table. Her joyful expression briefly dropped for a blink-and-you'll-miss-it second, but she quickly plastered on another grin and nodded. The two then strode their way over to you, barely giving you enough time to steel your nerves and muster a polite purse of the lips.
Before you knew it, the woman was right in front of you with your partner at her side instead of yours. Much to your dismay, she was only more attractive up close, and you narrowly held back a grimace as she held out a hand in introduction. You took it and shook it lifelessly.
“Hello, you must be Mrs. Jeon. I’m Sana, Jungkook’s colleague.” Even her voice was pretty, musical and light to the ears.
“H-Hi, nice to meet you but please call me Y/n.” A brief and awkward pause as Sana briefly sized you up and down. “Um, Jungkook has never mentioned you….” you trailed off, side-eyeing your husband in hopes he would intervene and add context to this random goddess he’s thrust upon you.
Jungkook gracefully took his cue and explained, “Sana transferred from another branch out of the city and has only been with us for five months. I’m her case supervisor and have been taking care of her, showing her the ropes and whatnot.”
Sana didn’t even spare you a glance as she fondly looked up at your husband, coyly biting her lip and saying in a much softer tone that could've been just for his ears only, “And he’s been really good at taking care of me.”
You didn’t consider yourself a jealous stay-at-home wife who obsessed over the tiniest details between her husband and other women, but the double meaning behind her badly-whispered comment was enough to make you splutter in disbelief. However before you could even gather up the courage to ask just what the hell ‘taking care of me’ consisted of, two new faces waltzed up and joined the conversation.
“Are you all enjoying this fabulous Christmas party?” A tall, broad-shouldered but nice-looking man asked in a tone of familiar amicability.
You thankfully smiled up at him, having met him many times before.
His name was Jin, and he was the one who got Jungkook this job.
It occurred about five years ago when you first told Jungkook that you were pregnant. Being the romantic but overall good guy that Jungkook was, he insisted that you two get married so that your child could have parents who were at least husband and wife. In addition it would also lessen the judgment in your two families, which at the time was extremely appealing to you. You had agreed to marry on one condition: after running to the courthouse you two would need to move in together in a decent apartment with a room for the nursery. But getting an apartment would mean month-to-month rent, and Jungkook’s tattooing gigs weren’t stable enough to ensure that.
Jin was originally a friend of Jungkook’s older brother, but when he heard through the grapevine about the issue, he bought Jungkook a couple of suits and offered him a job at the corporation he worked at.
Now Jungkook made more than enough money to support your little family, and it was all because Jin took a chance on a college drop-out and his knocked-up girlfriend.
You opened your mouth to respond but were cut off by the unknown lady beside Jin.
“I’d say a little too much fun if anything. Sana and Jungkook, we get that you're the infamous office couple but maybe tone it down a bit, huh?” She joked while raising her brows at the close proximity between the two.
A long and tortuous silence swept the scene.
Jin glanced at you, pity swimming in his usually carefree eyes.
Not trusting your voice to say anything and desperately wanting to hide your face from the piercing eyes, you distracted yourself by taking calculated sips of watered-down eggnog.
“Daehyun...this is actually Y/n, Jungkook’s wife,” Jin told the lady in an uncomfortable voice.
You didn’t know what stung more, the fact that this stranger thought that there was more chemistry between Sana and your husband than with you, or that it was Jin who corrected this mistake and not Jungkook himself.
“O-Oh, well it’s nice to meet you.” Daehyun awkwardly said to you while avoiding direct eye contact.
You offered a tight smile, “Pleasure.”
Whatever gratitude you could’ve had for Daehyun’s clear embarrassment quickly vanished when the woman went on to continue, “I’m sorry. Jungkook never mentioned being married and he doesn’t wear a ring so I didn’t even know. I bet it must be interesting for his housewife to meet his office wife though, right?”
She laughed, not realizing that she only succeeded in putting a foot in her mouth right before stomping it all over your pesky little heart. The group didn’t seem to share your uneasiness, all three of them politely chuckling along to the lukewarm joke at your expense. Once again, you focused on your dwindling beverage to avoid the burden of speaking or even facing them directly, too scared that your miserable expression would be unanimously inspected.
“Well, we just came over to recruit you all for some karaoke!” Jin cheerfully announced, clearly trying to change the subject, “There’s a machine in the break-out room and it’s more fun to sing with a group.”
“More like you want an audience.” Jungkook wittingly teased, a handsome smirk on his face as Sana playfully scolded him with a push to the chest.
“I’ll take your jabs now Kookie because I know they stem from your insecurity that I can actually upstage you in the vocals department.” Jin rebutted in good nature, even letting your husband’s old nickname slip.
Daehyun and Sana both guffawed at this declaration, exaggerated disbelief present on their faces.
“Jungkook is the best singer in the office. He’ll upstage you without even trying.” Daehyun said in a tenor of utter confidence.
“Only one way to find out!” Jin brushed the comment off, pointing to the direction of the assumed breakout room, “Karaoke anyone?”
The so-called office wife nodded enthusiastically, taking your husband’s arm and looking up at him to plead, “Can we do a duet of that one song we like?”
Jungkook, for the first time in seemingly hours, shot you with a questioning gaze.
Be married to someone for a while and you’ll learn how to decipher what they’re trying to say with just mere looks. Your husband was wordlessly inquiring if you were going to join, if he should go along with the group or if you two should break away and do something else.
The ball was finally in your court.
Not wanting to be rude but needing to get away from these people before you lost your cool, you decided on a subtle excuse.
“I need a refill, but maybe we can meet you all later?” You said, shaking your empty paper cup as if to prove your case.
“Oh, well the drinks are right behind you.” Sana condescendingly pointed out, tightening her hold on your husband and began steering him towards the exit, “We’ll save a seat for you.”
Bewildered, you watched as Jungkook obediently followed her lead with the Daehyun girl trailing behind.
He didn’t even spare you a glance.
You wanted to be angry.
You wanted to storm up to your husband, yank him out of the clutches of his colleagues and practically drag him back home under the premise that he would never speak to Sana ever again.
But instead of a righteous rage fueled by the marital vows you two took, utter exhaustion bestowed upon you and prevented any instigation on your part.
Maybe earlier in your marriage you would’ve fought for his attention, but now you simply just wanted to go home and lick your wounds with the help of a Ben and Jerry’s ice cream while self-obsessing over Sana’s outrageous attractiveness. After all, who could blame any hot-blooded man for choosing that goddess over you? What could you possibly do but lean back and accept that she was the obvious choice?
Other than her being a knockout beauty while you were merely average on your best day, she had other qualities that made her a more appealing catch. She was most likely younger than you, obviously fit, more ambitious and professionally driven than you, and presumably has no kids.
Meanwhile, you were just an old stay-at-home mom who lived off of her husband’s paychecks while he fucked his coworkers behind her oblivious back.
Before you could draw more detailed comparisons between Sana and yourself, you felt a large hand place itself on the middle of your back, successfully guiding your attention to the only person who bothered staying by your side.
Jin smiled sadly at you, sympathy shadowing his expression as he gestured with his other hand to the empty cup still in your hold. “Let’s get you some more eggnog.”
You nodded wordlessly, still speechless from the interaction, and allowed the taller man to guide you towards the snack table. Jin then took your cup and refilled it himself, providing you the opportunity to pick at the catered food in some cheap attempt at stress eating. By the time Jin came back with a full cup, you were halfway done with a sugar cookie and eyeing the meatballs next.
“Here ya go,” Jin said as he handed over the drink to you. You took it and nodded in thanks but kept your eyes glued to the food, not wanting him to see just how defeated and tired your face probably was. But, Jin wasn’t going to let the whole thing go. “Y/n….I know what you saw and heard looks really bad but trust me….nothing is going on between Sana and Jungkook.”
You snorted. “It doesn’t just look bad, Jin. It was like they were practically rubbing it in my face. Him having an affair isn’t the problem, it’s the way they’re not even bothering to keep it down. The least they could do is be discreet.”
Jin’s jaw slightly dropped, “‘Him having an affair isn’t the problem’? Y/n, do you even hear yourself? Of course that would be a problem! Do you not care about your own marriage anymore?”
And there it was.
The big question.
Did you truly even care about this marriage?
Well, let’s look at the facts.
One: The disrespect of his alleged mistress was more offensive to you than the fact that she was a mistress.
Two: Jungkook dragging you along to this office Christmas party was the first time in over a year that he bothered to take you out.
Three: You two had humble beginnings and could barely afford food, much less wedding bands when you first got married, but now he was a very wealthy man and had no excuse for not buying you or himself a ring. Unless, of course, he enjoyed acting single around other women.
Four: And on top of all this, it had to be factored in how distant he has been with overwhelming work hours that prevented any alone time with your husband. Sex with Jungkook has been off the table for almost a year now.
But did any of this really bother you until tonight? The answer was a resounding no. You were willing to take all those burdens in stride but tonight it wasn’t just about the fact that you were the unwanted wife Jungkook got sacked with, it was the fact that you were humiliated and forced to face the type of girl Jungkook should’ve been married to all along. That was all you were truly upset about.
The conclusion that you indeed didn’t care about your marriage and haven’t in some time now hit you in a sudden wave, but in no way were you shocked.
Voice shaky and brittle, you allowed yourself to be vulnerable with Jin and say the one thing you always secretly thought but never dared utter out loud. “I-I guess I always expected it to end like this. When we were younger, he was always the popular one and all the girls wanted him. We were only dating for three months when I got pregnant, and if it weren’t for our son he probably would’ve dumped me eventually and left for another girl. But, he stuck around for his kid because he’s a good father. And I’ve been nothing but a burden to him for a while now.”
Tears began to blur your vision, forcing you to quickly duck down and quietly sip at your drink so as to not embarrass yourself even more.
You heard a shuffle and suddenly Jin was holding you, using both of his lengthy arms to cage you in and rest you against his broad chest. It had been a long time since a man had held you like that, and you practically went boneless at the contact. You closed your eyes and tried to will away the incoming tears, even going so far as to solely focus on the scent of Jin’s cologne as he soothingly said, “Y/n, listen closely to what I’m about to say. You and Hugo were never a burden to Jungkook, and you two never will be. Your marriage was sudden, but it doesn’t make it less valid than any other marriage out there. Jungkook has been with you for so long, he just doesn’t realize when other women are interested in him because he’s been off the market forever. But I promise you, if I knew for even a second that he cheated, I would tell you right away.”
You didn’t say anything.
Although Jin’s words were comforting, they weren’t necessarily true. A marriage that started from a healthy courtship and true love instead of inconvenient circumstances was of course more valid than yours. And even though you were sure of Jin’s honesty and loyalty to you, Jungkook could’ve easily kept his affair secret from Jin as well.
However, you didn’t wish to concern Jin anymore. You already put him through too much awkwardness tonight and didn’t want to keep him by your side as some sort of emotional sponsor any longer than you already have. Jin always loved parties and was the life of any one he was invited to, even if it was just a lame annual office gathering. You then felt guilty for putting Jin in a situation where he would even have to console you when he should be out enjoying karaoke with the rest of his coworkers.
You promptly pulled away from Jin and wiped at your face. He released you and also took a step back, carefully studying you for any signs of further turmoil. Once sure that your face was acceptably dry, you gazed back up at him and offered a thankful smile. “Thanks Jin, I’m sorry I just dumped all of that on you. I really have to use the ladies' room though, can you point me to it?”
“It’s right by the conference room,” Jin informed, pointing out the general direction for you. You nodded and took a few steps toward it before he grasped your wrist to stop you and ask, “Do you want me to wait for you?”
“No, it’s okay. I’ll just find you and Jungkook when I’m out. Go and join the others for karaoke.”
Jin nodded but seemed unsure.
You didn’t look back to see if he actually went to follow the others, instead just advancing to the restrooms, secretly looking forward to some alone time even if it had to come from a public bathroom.
Once you entered the restroom you were relieved to find it completely empty, you weren’t sure if you could handle another run-in with Jungkook’s female colleagues. They all seemed to have a personal vendetta against you.
Instantly, you dashed to the mirror to inspect your makeup, assuming at least the mascara was ruined from your little cry. Thankfully, the damage was minimal and you were able to clean the smudges up with a damp napkin. You focused all your attention on the dreadfully small task, trying not to study your reflection too much given it would just conjure up more mental comparisons to all the other prettier women you encountered that night.
Yet the small task couldn’t last a lifetime, and you had to resort to looking at your phone in search of things to do. You weren’t emotionally ready to go out and search for your husband, so you wanted to prolong your time in the bathroom. Although it hasn’t been that long since you left the house, you decided to text the babysitter for any updates about your son.
To Emily: Hey, is everything okay with Hugo?
It only took about 40 seconds for the teenage neighbor girl to text back an answer, clearly on top of things and overly eager to provide any updates.
Emily: Yes! He ate his dinner, took his bath and we’re about to get ready for bed.
Your motherly instincts were satisfied with that response, but it didn’t do anything to subdue your desire to return back home. Your thumbs briefly hovered over the keypad, somewhat hesitant with the next text you were about to send.
To Emily: Great, thanks again for doing this. Listen, I think we might head back home sooner than we thought. Don’t worry tho, I’ll still give you the pay for the full four hours.
Before you could wait for a response from her, the sound of multiple incoming footsteps interrupted the steady silence in the restroom. Muffled female conversation could also be heard, the slight laughter and bickering amongst a group of women approaching the bathroom. Your fight or flight instinct was triggered, and to avoid any more awkward encounters you rushed to the nearest stall and shut the door- fully prepared to wait out the faceless group of female colleagues.
You heard the restroom door swish open before the women burst in, chatting and giggling with their heels clicking against the tile floor. One of the unknown females made way to the stall beside you, the others presumably hovering by the mirror if the sudden comments about their appearances were anything to go by. You quietly sighed and pulled out your phone again, ready to drown out their office politics talk.
Only for the conversation to somehow steer towards you.
“Did you see her?”
“Of course, I was very confused, to be honest.” One of them replied. “I mean….look at Jungkook and you just assume that whoever he’s with is drop-dead gorgeous, and she was just eh.”
“Yeah, she was pretty plain. What was her name again?”
“Y/n.” A third voice cut in, this one eerily familiar to you.
You glued a hand over your mouth to silence your gasp.
It was Sana.
“Did he ever mention her around you? You are the closest to him in the office Sana, and we didn’t even know he had a wife until tonight.”
“No, I didn’t know until tonight either.”
“What?! That’s insane. Literally all the time he spends with you: getting coffee, buying you lunch, driving you home after late nights, and he conveniently never mentions that he has a wife at home?”
“That’s suspicious. But I guess if I had a dog like that at home, I’d never mention her either.”
Cruel laughter from all of them.
The toilet from the stall next to you flushed, then opened as a new voice entered the discussion while she approached the sinks.
“It’s more than suspicious. He doesn’t even wear a wedding ring. And he’s so close to Sana but never mentioned that he’s married?” A pause as she washed her hands. “It’s obvious what he’s trying to do. Jungkook is trying to have an affair with Sana.”
Although this exchange was extremely hurtful to you, you felt somewhat relieved that you weren’t the only one to see what your husband was doing.
A pause hung in the air as none of the women spoke for a minute, they were willing to gossip but apparently outright declaring the obvious was a step too far for them.
Eventually, one of them chimed in with their own observation.
“Can you blame him? Sana you’re the most beautiful person in the office and you look so good next to him anyway. Much better than that cow Y/n.”
Another round of obnoxious laughter that broke your heart.
“C’mon guys. We gotta head back. Jungkook is gonna get anxious if Sana is away for too long.” Someone teased.
They all murmured in agreement, heading towards the exit as a group before one stopped them with a final question.
“Wait, Sana. If Jungkook does want to have an affair with you, what are you going to do?”
Although you couldn’t physically see Sana, you practically heard the smirk on her face as she said, “Who says we already aren’t having one?”
Needless to say, you ditched the Christmas party almost immediately after the bathroom incident.
You texted Jungkook a white lie about Emily struggling with Hugo, although a good father would’ve known something was up because your son had never given babysitters any trouble before. But luckily, your husband also wasn’t doing so hot in the dad department either.
You would’ve felt bad for not telling the truth if the truth wasn’t so fucking embarrassing.
“Hey, I’m gonna go home to cry like a little girl because I caught your coworkers talking shit about me. Oh, and also your little girlfriend accidentally let it slip that you’ve been fucking her this whole time. K talk to ya later!”
You grimaced at the thought of actually sending that text.
Sure it’s what that cheating bastard deserves, but you just weren’t emotionally ready for that fight yet. Especially after the night you endured, you needed some time to pick yourself up and figure out what to do next.
Divorce was the next logical step, but you were financially dependent on Jungkook. If you moved out and took Hugo with you, where would you two stay? How could you afford to be a single parent? And if Jungkook were to try to fight you for custody or the divorce in general, you would need a damn good lawyer. Unfortunately, lawyers weren’t cheap, especially one that stood a chance against Jungkook and all his wealth.
Your shoulders sagged with the imaginary weight of all these burdens.
When you entered the high-rise penthouse that you called home, you were surprised to see Emily anxiously pacing the foyer in waiting for your arrival.
“Hey, how was Hugo?” You greeted politely, already opening your clutch to pull out the agreed-upon salary.
“M-Mrs. Jeon, I swear I tried to have him in bed by eight like you said but he’s being stubborn and said he won’t go to sleep until you come back and read to him-” The teenager rushed out all at once, clearly nervous that you would scold her.
You held a hand out to stop her rambles, using your other hand to give her the money, and offered her what you hoped was a comforting smile, “It’s okay, Em. Thanks for doing this on such short notice. Why don’t you run home now and try to enjoy your Christmas Eve?”
Emily looked relieved that you weren’t mad, gratefully taking the cash before grabbing her jacket and shoes to make her exit. “Thanks so much for this Mrs. Jeon. Merry Christmas!”
“Merry Christmas.” You farewelled while walking the young girl out, locking the door behind her.
You turned around and proceeded down a long hallway that led to the bedrooms, stopping at the door beside the master room which belonged to your four-year-old son. You opened it to peer inside, the familiar deep blue walls with painted-on sea creatures greeting you back, swiftly reminding you once more of Hugo’s obsession with the ocean.
Your son was bundled up in a twin bed so big that it practically drowned him, his small frame barely being recognizable in the large fish-printed duvet wrapped around his tiny frame, only his small and adorable face peeking out to stare right back at you.
Hugo was essentially a carbon copy of Jungkook. At first you were somewhat resentful about this, how was it possible that you carried a baby for nine months and he came out with absolutely none of your features? But after a while of watching Hugo grow up and come into his own slowly but surely, you were pacified by the conclusion that while he may look exactly like his father, his personality and heart took after you.
“Dumpling, why did Emily say you were giving her a hard time and wouldn’t go to bed?” You asked gently, sitting by his side and petting his black hair.
‘Dumpling’ was a nickname you chose for Hugo since you first found out you were pregnant with him. It stemmed from your sudden pregnancy craving to eat dumplings and nothing else, you once even going two straight weeks surviving off the food. There were many times where Jungkook had to bribe you into eating other things, playing on your guilt for not providing your baby all the nutrition he needed. But even now ‘Dumpling’ still stuck, if Hugo’s chubby cheeks were anything to go by.
“Mommy, I-I’m sorry but-” His big doe eyes looked up at you in teary guilt, “I really needed you here. It was a nece-necess-”
“Necessity, bub.” You finished for him, grinning at his attempt at a big word.
Part of you wanted to scold the boy for being difficult, but you didn’t have the heart to. Lately, Hugo has been more clingy to you than ever before. Yet it was practically impossible to punish him because Hugo has always been a good kid and you knew deep down that he didn’t act out unless there was something else going on. You suspected that it had something to do with the lack of his father’s presence that forced him to hold onto you like his life depended on it.
“Well try not to do it again, okay? Emily is a nice girl and she’s just following my orders when she tells you to go to bed.” You said, ducking down to peck the crown of his head and continue running your fingers through his hair.
Hugo nodded in understanding but ultimately stayed silent, basking in your cuddles.
All was silent for a passing moment, and while Hugo enjoyed his mother’s touch, your mind gradually returned to the turmoil that was your marriage.
A sudden epiphany struck you and bit your lip as you debated an idea.
Should you expose your son to your future plan?
The victim of any divorce has always been the children who were left behind. And the last thing you wanted to do was blindside Hugo. Perhaps you should play the hypothetical game just to see where your son’s head was at? It went without saying that Hugo was closer to you than Jungkook and you were more of a parent than your husband. But still, every kid deserved to have a say in their parents’ divorce.
“Bub, how would you feel if….it was just me and you?” You hesitantly inquired.
“What do you mean mommy?” Hugo titled his head in bewilderment and craned his neck to look back up at you.
“What if me and you went away to live together?” You clarified.
“Like a va-vayca-”
“Vacation? And no. But forever. Just me, you and no one else.” You whispered, as if Jungkook himself would storm in and catch you planning your escape with the toddler.
“Oh.” A pause as you could practically hear the mechanisms in his four-year-old brain trying to work out the logistics of what you just proposed. “Okay.”
The nonchalance in his youthful voice had you taken aback.
“It’s a really big decision, Hugo. You wouldn’t mind...not living with daddy anymore, right? You would hardly ever see him, dumpling.”
The boy shifted to lean more of his body against you, essentially resting against you with his head on your chest as he said, “But it’s like that already, mommy.”
Your heart broke.
You wrapped your arms around him and pulled him closer to you, feeling a maternal instinct to comfort and protect.
“Okay Dumpling. I need you to promise me not to tell daddy what we talked about.”
“”Kay.” Hugo yawned and closed his eyes, inhaling deep breaths of your scent and beginning the process of falling asleep. “When do we leave?”
“It’ll take some time, bub. You start school in a few months, so mommy will try to find a job while you’re there.” You told him, not bothering to try to explain the concept of a lawyer or apartment deposits on top of that. “But we can do this. It has to be a secret but you're my partner in crime.”
You chuckled, “Yeah, like spies. Promise to work with mommy in utter secrecy?”
You held up a pinky, one that Hugo grasped with his own.
Author’s Note: So....A while ago before I took my long ass hiatus, I did a poll for which yandere story I should write next. The Unsaid Vow won but that was around the same time that shit hit the fan in my life. Recently was scrolling through my notes on my phone and found some of the plot points for this story and I needed a lil break from QQ. Plus I know so many ppl were hyped for this concept so....Here ya go lol. This is kinda short but it’s just a set up, Chapter one’s plot line will start a few months after this when Hugo will start kindergarten and Y/n will actually start looking in to jobs, lawyers and apartments. Also I’m sorry but I’m really bad at writing for kids lol, and I absolutely refuse to write that gross ass baby talk so just pretend your son is a lil genius okay? Also srry Once but I needed really pretty girls to be villians in my story so yeah, Twice girls in here aren’t likable but aren’t reflective of how i actually feel about them lol.
Big thanks to @sushireads once again for creating the cover art for this fic. They literally are becoming my go-to for fic art.
And my beta readers @bigbuffjoonie and @mustardpop! They beta’d for QQ and I came to them really early about this fic. They were with me since the beginning and have given me advice with creative choices to just simple grammar. They easily could’ve leaked the first draft of this too but they didn’t and kept it secret for a while. I was really insecure about getting out of my comfort zone with this plot but they really guided me.
A DAY IN THE MARKET
Tommy Shelby x F!Reader
𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 :: 𝐈 — NEXT
𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘;— Tommy Shelby and Grace spend the day in the market. What he doesn’t expect is seeing his first and only love.
𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒;— separation, mentions of suicide, angst, ANGST, did I say angst, yearning and longing, mild age gap, Grace Burgess
𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄𝐒;— this was originally a fanfic of about 15 chapters. Might bring it back? Who knows.
𝐑𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆;— T [teen]
They married when she just turned twenty, he was twenty eight. Oh they were in love. Deeply in love that the stars only shined for them on their wedding day and any day forth. So fiercely in love that the sun grew tired in the day for making such happy rays of sunshine rain down on them. So volatile that the stars and the sun had stopped doing this until the day (Y/n) Shelby walked out of Arrow House with only a small luggage and the necklace he bought her on their first date.
No, she even left her ring right on his desk next to his personalized cigarette case she made for him as a wedding gift.
Their marriage lasted four months total, but their love began when she was eighteen. She moved to town with little to no money as a librarian. She was welcomed with open arms as Polly Gray took the girl under her wing. One drinking contest, one dance, and one slap of the face later — Tommy Shelby was in love. Smitten.
But she left him in the end for reasons he knew were his fault. Secrets, lies, cheating, and… drugs. Those were the four things she was very strict against, and yet he had done all four things. Fed up with all of it, she left without a trace.
Heartbroken and distraught, he fell into bad habits. And he fell into lust with one barmaid. Maybe he would say it was love. But it certainly wasn’t close to what he had to (Y/n). No.
He searched for her endlessly at the bottom of gin bottles, in the smoke of his opium. In his dreams and his nightmares. He even thought she would be at the other end of a bullet in his gun.
No she was gone and out of his life’s
“You look to the past, but you won’t find me there,” Grace whispered and cradled his chin one morning.
He just smiled weakly, “Not looking…. Just remembering.”
Grace had no idea of his first wife. The Blinders knew (Y/n) was a very sore subject for Tommy and never said a word after she left. He went straight back into work after a week. And hasn’t spoken about her in ten years.
He kissed her gently before shrugging on his coat.
“Come, you said you wanted to go to the town market.“
Grace’s eyes lit up and trailed after him. With Grace, he was going through the movements, and every year on their anniversary he secluded into a shell of drugs and alcohol. The Birmingham Farmers market only blossomed in spring with all of the seasonal crops and ￼artisanal￼ goods. Grace had never been and Tommy… well he owned all the stalls.
“I can make a wonderful family dish with these fresh vegetables,” Grace came over to a stall of crops. Tommy just nodded and let her basket what she wanted as the tenders knew who she was.
Maybe he could be happy with her.
She walked through the market under her woven hat with a red ribbon. She had a small smile on her lips as she picked up a silk handkerchief and held it up. Blue. It was a beautiful blue color. She held it up and the person in front of her sighed.
“Mum, really?” The ten year old boy groaned as she matched it to his eyes.
“What! You look great with this! Imagine wearing this to church-“
“I’m already dressing up enough! I’ll look like a total fop.” He pulled away and flushed.
(Y/n) pulled her son close and smirked, “No, you’ll look absolutely handsome. Please make, your dearest and most favorite mother happy with this?”
The boy turned his face into her waist and let out a groan, which in turn made the woman laugh and turn back to the tender with some money in hand.
“Come on. I’ll let you chose what we cook tonight, maybe I’ll even let you make dessert.”
Instantly his eyes looked up at her and smiled, “Fine by me!”
Hand in hand they walked through the stalls as he eagerly picked out some fruits for whatever dessert he wanted for tonight.
Tommy looked up and it was like time stopped. There she was. Just as beautiful, if not more beautiful, than the day he last saw her. She was in a white sundress with a small smile on her lips. She let out a giggle and his heart beat loudly in his chest. His hands felt clammy, his mouth was dry, and every bone in his body ached to run and pull her into a loving hug.
What he didn’t expect was her to catch eyes with him. Her smile fell for just a second before she tore her eyes away and a boy with black hair and blue eyes excitedly ran up to her. It was like the whole world came crashing down on him as he continued looking at the two. She looked up at him and nodded gently, right at the same time Grace came up to him.
“(Y/n)….” He whispered and his eyes watered.
“Tommy?” Grace started.
She turned around, arm around the boy and she left.
She left again.
Tommy stumbled slightly and he shrugged Grace’s arm off of him as he weaved through the bodies.
“(Y/n)!” He yelled.
He wouldn’t let her go again. No. This time it didn’t matter what happened, what mattered was that she was there and she had some child with her.
He turned a corner and sprinted, not caring he was hurting people until he saw her just on the sidewalk laughing with the boy.
“(Y/n) Shelby!” He said with need.
She stopped and looked at him, arm still around him.
Her eyes looked tired and he walked up to them.
“Thomas… it’s nice to see you.”
He looked down at her hand briefly, it was naked without a ring and glanced to her neck.
“You still have the necklace.”
Her hand touched it gently and nodded nervously.
“I do… I couldn’t leave it.”
His eyes darted to the confused boy.
“Mum, who is he?” He said protectively.
“Thomas, this is Byron. Byron-“
“Is he… is he mine?”
Her jaw clenched and her hold on the boy tightened.
“He’s mine. Regardless, this isn’t something we should talk about here.”
“Fine. Come home then.” He had to stay his ground, he needed her back.
“No, I have no place back at Arrow House. You know it, and it seems like she knows it.” (Y/n)‘s eyes fell on the blonde woman who rounded the corner.
He turned and Grace stood with a hard face of confusion.
“Good bye, Thomas.” She turned around and his head snapped to her.
“Don’t you fucking leave me! You’re my wife!” He grabbed her hand with desperate need.
She spun around with eyes of anger.
“I may be your wife on paper. But not by name or anything else. You made that clear when you fucked many women while I was locked up inside that hellhole, now let go-“
“I let go of you once. I’m not leaving you again.” He pleaded as tears came to his eyes.
“Let go of my mom!” Byron pulled at Tommy’s sleeve and continued to punch and kick the man. Immediately he let go. (Y/n) sniffled and pulled her son close.
“You never left me. You just forgot me….” She spat and walked.
The ride back home was quiet. Grace was holding her clutch tightly, thinking of all the things in the world.
“Who was she, Tommy?” She asked gently.
His jaw was clenched.
“Yes now! You openly declared she was your wife, when I’m sitting right fucking here!” She whimpered and faced him in her seat.
He aggressively pulled into his home on Watery Ln., “I’m not talking about this right now.”
“Yes you are. I saw the look in your eyes when she held that boy. Is he yours? She barely looks old enough to be a mother to him, sister maybe… but mother? What is going on.” She pleaded and pulled at his arm.
“Just stop! I have enough to think about as it is! Fuck off!” He pushed her off and stormed inside.
Grace stood there watching him. He was so angry with her. She sniffled and wiped her tears. She looked over to the house a few ways down and she headed over. Her mind was set to find answers about who (Y/n) was. He called her (Y/n) Shelby. Wife. It was like she wasn’t even there and like Grace had never married him.
She knocked twice and Polly opened with a cocked brow.
“Grace? I didn’t know you’re in town.”
“Who is (Y/n) Shelby and what happened.” She didn’t need to beat around the bush. She needed answers.
Polly’s face paled and her eyes went wide.
“How…how do you know that name?”
“Apparently she’s back in town and Thomas was yelling for her to stay. Tell me Polly Gray, he’s my husband.”
Polly stepped aside and sat down at the kitchen table. Grace followed and kept a stern look on her face.
“She came here when she was turning eighteen. Young thing, bright and too good for us. She needed a place to stay so she came here. Said her parents died when she was young and she was sold off to be married. She got away and I set her up to work at the library.” Polly looked fondly at the memories.
“She would come home with a new book every night and finish the thing before the next morning. Thomas and (Y/n) hated each other in the beginning, constantly at each other’s throats.” She laughed and teared up, “For two years they loved each other. For two years they set up a future. They married when she was twenty.”
“Then came the war. We were already on edge because she might be taken. She had gone and done nursing classes with Ada and Tommy was of age. We knew he would be called. They were so happy until he … he would leave and drink, smoke, and get high on whatever shit he came across. She could handle that. But it was the women. She left after so many nights alone, he didn’t even hide it at this point.”
Grace’s look softened.
“She was so young…”
“She was. When she left we all feared he would never make it out of the darkness. Some nights he would search for her in gin or his smoke. But when he was sober he would try his best to forget her.”
“Did you know? When she left that she…”
“She was what?”
Grace’s jaw clenched and gripped her hands tightly, “Pregnant.”
Polly’s eyes widened and she started to sob. She failed her. The girl who was practically her daughter.
“I let her go…. I let my darling go.” She cried and held her face in her hands. Both of the women were interrupted when three of the other Shelby siblings walked in laughing.
Ada had her usual annoyed look as Arthur and John poked fun at her. But stopped the second they saw Grace and Polly sitting before one another with the latter crying, sobbing.
“What fuck is going on? Is Thomas okay!” Ada came over and held Polly.
Grace didn’t want to say anything. But it seemed like Polly wasn’t.
“He’s okay… I’m not sure-“
“What do you mean you’re not sure! Why aren’t you with him!” John came over, obviously nervous now.
“She’s back, John. She wanted answers about her and Grace came to me.”
“She…. You don’t mean-“
“(Y/n) Shelby. She is, with her son.” Grace’s voice was tight and tried not to cry in anger.
“Why does she still carry his name?” She pressed.
Arthur and John sighed, “He couldn’t send papers to divorce her. We couldn’t file her dead because well… she wasn’t. We didn’t know where she was but we would know if she died.”
“Well great. She’s here, they can file the divorce papers!” Grace chuckled with annoyance.
Everyone was silent.
“It’s not like that, Grace. Tommy just… Thomas and (Y/n) we’re two of the same flame. Like that fucking Greek myth about Hades and Persephone. One taste of him and she was forever his.”
“I’m here now. I’ve been here-“
“And so has she. Not physically, but you must know that Tommy has always had something else to him,” Polly said softly and wiped her tears.
The blonde glared and stood up.
“I’ve been here. She can’t just walk back and take him away from me-“
“And what if it’s him that leaves. Hm? Grace, see pity for his soul.” Arthur had only spoken this once. His eyes were hard and his fists were clenched.
“You don’t know what she did to him or what he did to her. I get that you are married now, but did you know your papers aren’t real? He couldn’t file it because he is already married.”
His hands shook as he walked down the street. He had some of his men look about for her once he got home and Grace left. He wasn’t going to let this go easily. Wasn’t going to let her go easily. He stood in front of a door that was hidden in an alley.
Letting out a deep breath he cleared his throat and knocked twice.
The seconds felt like hours before the door opened and (Y/n) stood with a calm face. She was wearing an apron, her hands were dusted with flour and some even managed to get on her face.
“I see you’ve found me…” she sighed and opened the door to let him in.
“We have to discuss this-“
“We don’t. Really. I left, you remarried. What is there to talk about.”
“MUMMY! YOU RUINED MY BATTER!” Byron yelled with annoyance from the kitchen.
Her cheeks went hot and called back out, “ITS NOT RUINED! ITS SUPPOSED TO BE THAT CLUMPY!”
“NO! IT NEEDS TO BE SMOOTH.”
“JUST,” she sighed, “JUSE READ MY MOTHER’s RECIPE.”
Silence took over for a second.
“OH…. OKAY! EVERYTHING IS FINE!”
Tommy tried to hide the growing smile on his face
“That’s what we need to talk about. That boy in the kitchen.”
(Y/n) wiped her hands on her apron and gestured to the couch in front of the fire.
“I’m not going to let you take him away.”
He just shook his head, “That’s not what I’m here for.”
Nervously, she clenched her jaw and bit her lip.
“I was a month pregnant when I left. I was always going to tell you, but you became selfish. I wasn’t going to let any child of mine be around a cheat and a liar.”
He felt his hands grow clammy as he clenched them together.
“No one knew. I never went to Polly that month. She was busy with the betting shop and Ada. Every time I look I look in his eyes, I see you.” She started to cry.
“He doesn’t know it yet, but everything he does is you. The way he talks, the way his eyes roll, his smile.”
She choked back a sob and hugged herself. Tommy knelt before her and held her hands.
“Please let me apologize. I’ll grovel and live my life on my knees if that means I’ll be with you again. I’ve lived life empty without my (Y/n). MY (Y/n).”
“I’ll hurt her. But if that means I can be selfish to get you back, then I’ll do it over and over again. It’s always been you! Can’t you see that?” He firmly held her face to look into her eyes.
“Then what of the other women. If it’s always been me, then what of them!” She pushed her hands away and got up.
“I made a mistake! But it’s only been one person. And you know who it was. YOU KNOW.”
She shook her head with a spiteful chuckle. She did know. But it still hurt more.
“Greta wouldn’t have been happy for how you e broken me.”
Greta and Thomas were a volatile couple. But she was dying and (Y/n) couldn’t leave her best friend, even if she dated her husband. Before she could get the other side of the story, she died and (Y/n) had decided to leave.
“Did you only fuck her because she was dying or because she was your ex?” She said calmly.
She looked him in the eye and spoke, “I’ll never forgive you for breaking my heart. You’ll never take him from me. I’ve established a life for me and if you can’t see that, and you keep coming here to ruin it, I’ll leave again. We’ve made it just fine and we can continue to do so.”
“Please. Give me one more chance-“
“I gave them to you ten years ago. I’m tired now and I have other things on my mind.” She was trying not to cry, but his eyes were making it so hard.
“MUMMY! WHY ARENT YOU HELPING- oh.” Byron walked in, sleeves rolled up and face caked in flour.
Immediately he came to his mother’s side and stood in front of her.
“You again. You’re making my mum upset, I think you should leave.” He held his chin up and Tommy looked at her.
‘Please…. For him.’ He would say.
She placed a hand on his shoulder, “Byron. You remember Thomas. He’s…. He’s-“
“My father. I know. I’m not a kid, I’m actually quite smart.” He scoffed and glared at the man.
“Look, Byron. I’m just here to talk to your mother. She’s been gone for so long and I want her to come back with me.”
“I think no. If she left and she hasn’t come back to you then, that should tell you something.”
He walked over and opened the door.
“Leave! Mummy and I are going to burn the pie!”
(Y/n) was in shock as her ten year old son tried to push Thomas out the door. It put a smile on her face as Byron continued to push and push, but he never moved.
“All I’m asking for is once chance,” he said and winched when Byron kicked his ankle.
“Ask my son. He seems to know what’s best.” She said nonchalantly with a sigh and went into the kitchen.
She was hurt and didn’t want to talk about it any more, but Byron had the choice of knowing his father. Sure their first impressions of one another weren’t the best, but still. If he wanted to make something out of what he had with Thomas, then she couldn’t stop him.
Byron glared at the man and crossed his arms after failing to push him.
“You’re the reason my mummy cries at night.”
Thomas kneeled and looked him in the eyes. She was right. They were his eyes.
“Your mother is the reason why I’ll never be happy again. She stole all of my joy the moment she left me.”
His face softened.
“You aren’t happy?”
Thomas shook his head.
“Mum said it’s not right to steal. She’s not setting a good example if she stole that from you. Come come, bad man.” Byron grabbed Thomas’ jacket and dragged him into the kitchen.
“Byron, your mother isn’t happy with me-“
“MUMMY! You tell me never to steal, but yet this man says you’ve stolen all of his happiness.” Byron rolled his eyes at his mother and (Y/n)‘s cheeks went bright red.
“I don’t like him. But, it’s not right to steal.”
Grace waited at home, their home. His brothers and sister and aunt all said good things about her. They would never say those things about herself, that much she knew. Was their marriage just a fail safe for him? Did he actually care?
She couldn’t get pregnant, he was hardly ever with her and always working. And when they did make love, she could never get him to finish well. Part of her resented (Y/n) for taking her Thomas. But an even larger part of her resented Thomas for hurting someone so bad that she had to raise a child alone without any money or support. She was torn. Very torn.
If Thomas cheated on her repeatedly, perhaps she would have left also. Then again, (Y/n) was an adult by law but mentally… who knows. She raised a child in the years where she was to be having fun on her own.
He loved her.
That much was evident.
That much was clear.
Definitely going to need to write a part two!
It’s Alive! It’s Alive! ⚡️🔧
Sunnydrop/Moondrop x Reader Pt. 2/??
Previous / Next | ⚠️Warnings: None :)
Scattered all around you are countless blue-prints and conceptual designs, various tools, miscellaneous scrap-metals, and fast-food wrappers. While working on this project you’ve adopted the nasty habit of eating the grease-soaked “food” almost daily, seeing as most nights you didn’t even leave the dark and gloomy underbelly of the Pizza Plex. Not that you minded much, seeing as you were currently cramming yet another grease-slick, undercooked fry into your mouth. Golly, you could practically feel your appendix bursting(with joy!) already.
Okay. So the fried foods were absolutely atrocious, but it’s not like you were in position to complain.
You pat your hands down on your work-wear, wiping your hands clear of any residual salt and oil, before then plucking up a screw-driver and tapping the end of it on your chin. Your animatronic is currently sitting hunched forward, deactivated between your bent knees. From this position it was way easier to unscrew the plate protecting the uniquely thin endoskeleton, something you needed access to, to finally, finally, complete your bot. Sure you had to go off script a little, totally scrapping the original concept of creating two day-care attendants. But this could work out too. It has to. And maybe, just maybe, it’d be seen as a creative liberty and special designer’s perspective.
You nod self-assuringly, grasping Sunny’s head by a ray and begin the fragile process of slowly unscrewing each of the four screws. Once done, you gently wiggle the plate off of the endo’s head, setting it aside, and unearthing a delicate green board layered within a maze of wires. You then reach into the front pocket of your coveralls, pinching two little chips between your thumb and forefinger.
These little bad boys were what was going to give your little Frankenstein here life. Everything that they were, are, and will be are compacted into these miraculous cards. Now, you weren’t the best programmer, more of a design and assemble type ‘a person. So you were generously gifted these “personality chips” from an actual professional, the same anonymous individual who had actually made the Glamrock models… but hold on, you of course weren’t just gonna slap in some random bland template for your baby! Hell nah. You had already gone ahead and slightly tweaked the code to your liking, while leaving the general base alone to still function as intended. Nothing major. Just gave them a little more depth, after-all, you wanted to make them feel real. Was it morally dubious? Maybe just a smidge. But this was for you dang it. You could afford to be a little self-indulgent, right?
Resolutely, you swiftly insert the two chips into their respective slots before you could wimp out. It doesn’t matter, if anything went hay-wire you’d be able to fix it later. You’re too close now, it had to be perfect. He would be.
─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───
Sunny’s first ever boot-up process is a long and anxious one. Not for him of course, he wasn’t… him just yet. No, It was nerve-wracking for you; possibly the longest, nail-biting ten minutes of your life. You felt utterly useless just anxiously standing around for the data transfer to finish. Waiting for those white eyes to finally glint with recognition and just, bounce to metaphorical life.
You worriedly bite your lip, fidgeting around where Sunny sat. Gosh, did boot-ups normally take this long? You swore last time you did something like this it wasn’t nearly as long. It was killing you! This- this anticipation! The sound of his internal processors sounded so loud in contrast to the typical ambient noise of your work-shop. It made a twinge of worry slowly eat away at your carefully constructed resolve. Did you do everything right? Wait- Are you sure you’ve connected everything properly? Crap, what if you fucked up and totally corrupted their code? What if- What if-
The ambient hum of buzzing electronics and gentle beeps from your monitors are interrupted by the sudden, near silent creak of metal, and a tiny movement you almost don’t catch in your peripherals.
Like a deer in head-lights, you freeze mid-pace, whipping your head around and staring, laser-focused on your bot’s hand… which rests innocently beside itself, as it always had. You eye it suspiciously, swearing it just moved. Disbelieving, you trudge closer to your animatronic, before crouching low to the ground and cradling the comparatively much larger hand in your own two for inspection. You then manipulate the fingers, watching them move as fluidly as expected.
You grunt, confused and frustrated, before then abruptly shrieking as the deceptively motionless steel creation rockets forward and sends you both sprawling against the concrete floor. It all happens so fast, you don’t have the time to process or even fully comprehend what’s happening as two thin, hard-shelled arms are snaking around you in a constrictive grasp.
“Hello Hello Hello~! It’s So Nice To Finally Meet You!” The voice-box enthusiastically booms, tone uniquely popping every few words. You flutter your lids, watching on in stunned silence as it- he- Sunny, sits atop your abdomen, squirrelly shifting in what might be a malfunction- already!?
Just then, your brain finally scrambles it’s scattered cells back together and catches up with the current situation.
“Holy shit, You- You’re alive!” You exclaim the obvious, before then getting promptly reprimanded for the foul language. Which in turn, just has you positively beaming.
“And your behavior protocols are working just flawlessly! As expected!” You don’t even try to hide your obvious pride as you nod, why should you? All of your hard work is coming to fruition right before your very own eyes!
Sunny spins his head clock-wise, a motion that comes so naturally to him he doesn’t even think to question it, as he then continues to commit all the tiny details of your face to his memory. His creator, his human, you.
You chuckle, so happy and relieved with this outcome, before then tensing realizing that Sunny is still sitting on you… and robots aren’t exactly the most comfortable or light-weight things to be using as a cuddle-companion. A little remorseful, you manage to worm your arms out and away from Sunny, before then using them to gently nudge him off of you… which does absolutely nothing to deter his stubborn affections. Which isn’t too surprising. He was literally just “born”, heeeellooo, social etiquette? What’s that?
You huff, still amused, before snapping your fingers where you know his auditory receptors to be lay hidden. The result has him jerking unexpectedly, before limberly twisting off and away from your form. Not out of hand’s reach though, you notice. He then cusps his hands beneath his jutting rays, where he no doubt was overstimulated by the first ever loud noise he’s heard; and then proceeding to rub the “affected” area. Which was bullshit, because there was no way it actually physically hurt, the guy literally didn’t have a nervous system.
“Mx. Creator! You- What Was That For!?” He all but whines, tone fuzzing by the pitch alone, as he bodily cowered like a kicked puppy.
You raise your hands in mock surrender, not expecting him to have reacted so intensely. You didn’t mean to… to scare him? No, that’s not right, he shouldn’t- couldn’t be genuinely scared. It was just an appropriated reaction constructed by highly intelligent, adaptive AI. And yet... you can’t shake the feeling of trepidation, the tiny yet rational part of yourself advising caution. But again, that portion of you is small for a reason, and you are quick to ignore it. Anyhow, your guilty conscious is louder, demanding that you apologize. There isn’t a real need to, because again, he isn’t real. Yet you find yourself continuing anyhow.
“Ah- I’m sorry! Honest, I didn’t mean for that to happen. I promise, I won’t ever do it again.” You attempt to appease, even donning what you hope looks like an apologetic smile.
He cocks his head to the side skeptically (and fuck you dearly hope you didn’t give it trust-issues within it’s first few minutes of consciousness), just further proving your earlier comparison to a puppy. There’s a momentary pause, where neither one of your breaks eye contact… If it were anyone else, you’re sure they would’ve found the entire situation very off-putting. Sitting in near complete darkness with nothing but the company of an inexpressive robot. Well, facially inexpressive. Everything else about your precious animatronic thus far has all been proven very emotional.
The silence is then broken with the sound of shuffling fabric, which turns out to be Sunny wordlessly scooting across the floor on his ass, before settling a few inches before you criss-cross applesauce style in all of his jester-esque glory.
“Pinky Promise?” He proposes, reaching out with with an offered hand, extended pinky and all. You can’t help but inwardly chuckle, before reaching out with your own pinky and sealing the pact.
“Pinky promise.” You affirm. You both shake on it, fingers entwined, one arm slack, and the other noticeably shaking with more excitable vigor.
... and keeps shaking, even after the initial moment’s passed. You cough into the junction of your shoulder and neck, a universal social cue of awkwardness recognizable to anyone. ...Anyone not literally just created within the hour. In your mind’s eye you could envision yourself groaning and repeatedly banging your head against a wall; but since you’re in the presence of an extremely impressionable robot, you manage to refrain.
“Sunny.” You call, which has him humming questionably, oblivious. Sweet boy, not a single thought behind those eyes. “You can let go now.”
“Oh.” Hesitantly, his finger slowly releases, and he sheepishly hangs his head low with a mechanical click. You watch the reaction with fascination, the technology of those chips was revolutionary, and a wonder to examine in action. However, you can’t just ignore this behavior, as it was your job to let him learn and adapt from your own, so that he may be fitfully equipped for social interactions in the near future. Sure he had the gist of everything such as rules, protocols, schedules, etcetera. All the pre-programmed stuff. The “magic” of these chips, however, proved most efficient if it learned and adapted from others. That’s where you came in. There to guide and teach the poor fellow all of the social intricacies and nuances of humans.
With a suffering sigh, knowing your work is cut out for you, you reach out with a steady hand to tap your index finger meaningfully where Sunny’s chin would be if he were human.
“Chin up sunshine, we’ve got work to do.”
─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───
// Ugh, for those of ya’ll who actually like my sucky-ass writing and waited patiently, I sincerely thank you. I’ve got horrible motivational and procrastination issues. It really means alot when I see some of you guys enjoying the story. Also, I won’t be using the font anymore for this fic, it’s an eyesore and pain to write with lmao //
maybe, she can drive his car; mechanic!yoongi
➺ pairing; mechanic!yoongi x spoiledbrat!y/n
➺ genre; mechanic!yoongiverse!! sfw!! honk honk humour!! some suggestive behaviour because this is mechanic!yoongi and his y/n we're talking about!! the green-eyed monster inside of y/n is awoken after being dormant for so long and she's ready to bite some heads off
➺ wordcount; 11.6k
➺ summary; yoongi's ex is back in town for a visit and you'd be lying if you said you weren't slightly envious of a) how knowledgeable she is about stupid cars and b) how well she gets along with literally everyone.
➺ what to expect; "right, about that- i know i was supposed to come over for dinner tonight but- listen, i don't know what lisa did but obviously she's got a lot of connections now and the shop has literally never been this busy before... you understand, don't you?"
➺ currently spinning on the record player; mustang sally (originally by wilson pickett, covered by andrew strong)
(unfortunately i wasn’t able to track down the original maker of this gif but this is where i sourced it from! all credits go to the original creator of course :-))
»»————- 🛠️ ————-««
namjoon usually doesn't pay too much attention to you whenever you're hanging out at the workshop with everyone because of how often you're here, but there's something about the way you're acting today that even he has to admit is oddly very...
and it's not that you're not cute all the time (because you totally are!!) but it's just that the version of you today in particular is suddenly making him want to go off and find a y/n of his own
namjoon jolts in surprise when a grimy hand suddenly burrows itself into the warm bag of freshly-popped popcorn that he has cradled to his chest and he scowls before turning his body away slightly
"hey, you're contaminating the popcorn, man-" he huffs, quickly grabbing the mega-sized pack of hand wipes from the desk before plopping it down on the countertop for jungkook, "at least have the decency to wipe your hands before digging into my popcorn- also, i'm watching. duh."
"watching?" jungkook frowns as he sloppily wipes his hands on the front of his shirt, turning to look out the open door, "watching what?"
"yoongi and y/n." namjoon hums, popping a couple of kernels into his mouth with a crunch, "she's been following him around like a little duckling all day."
"mm." jungkook props an elbow up on the counter as he looks towards the two of you before clicking his tongue, "...he must've really given it to her good last night if she's acting like that-"
"okay, now you've ruined the moment-" namjoon frowns, his shoulders dropping slightly before he gestures to you guys, "it's sweet! this is obviously a wholesome thing-"
"call it what you want, but all i'm trying to say is that good sex makes you do crazy things-" jungkook snorts before aggressively shoving a handful of popcorn into his mouth, "cravy phings."
"i'd like to argue that good sex forms a strong emotional bond which explains why there are cartoon hearts currently floating around y/n's head-" namjoon perks up when he notices the way your eyes light up at something yoongi says, "look at her! look at the way she's looking at him!"
"oh, please." jungkook tuts, "that dopey look on her face is telling me that the only thing on her mind is yoongi bending her over the hood of that car and just ramming-"
"namjoon and jungkook are arguing again." you point out, turning to look towards the office just in time to see namjoon throw a handful of popcorn at jungkook only for him to open his mouth and chomp wildly at the air to get some into his mouth
"jungkook probably said something stupid, as per usual." yoongi snorts, leaning over to lock the hood of the car into place before pulling away and taking a look at the situation, "now, let's see what we have going on here..."
when namjoon told him that this was a brake master cylinder repair he immediately felt all the excitement leave his body
he hates doing brake master cylinder repairs
all the parts are so small and the handiwork is super tedious anD the last time he did one of these he took like four hours to get it done
overall it's a pretty boring repair job and as much as he wants to pass it off to one of the others to do, he knows that he's the most skilled with the internal mechanics of a car compared to everyone else which he usually likes to brag about but today he wishes that that wasn't the case
"so what do you have to do?" you frown, stepping over so that you're standing by the side of the car and you're not in yoongi's way, "all the thingies look fine to me."
"well, i actually need to replace the brake master cylinder thingy." yoongi teases, smiling lightly as he points at some kind of container, "there's a leak in the seals, which is pretty common since they wear out after a few years. it should be an easy fix! it'll just take a while, that's all."
luckily, taehyung already took care of the messy part and emptied the fluid from the reservoir for him so now it's time to start the actual repair process
"so does beeper have one of these cylinders in him?" you ask, tilting your head in curiosity
you've never actually taken a look at beeper's under the hood situation before so you wouldn't know
(it feels like he's all naked and exposed whenever yoongi lifts his hood up and you just want to give beeper some privacy, that's all.)
"if beeper didn't have one of these cylinders in him, you wouldn't be able to brake, silly." yoongi snorts, reaching down to unclip the sensor from the reservoir, "see, when you push down on the brake, it pushes a piston through the cylinder and forces hydraulic fluid through the brake lines, which goes to the slave cylinders of each wheel, and then-" he pauses when he notices you've gone all quiet and he turns to see you staring directly at him with a dopey little smile on your face "-what? what'd i say?"
"i like it when you talk shop to me." you giggle quietly, "i mean, i don't understand 98% of the words that come out of your mouth when you do, but i still like it a lot-"
"yeah?" yoongi teases, taking a hand off the edge of the car so he can gesture for you to come closer (and you do, obviously), "you like it when i talk to you about... hm, i don't know..." he feigns cluelessness as he stands up to slink an arm around your waist and bring you towards him while your arms automatically hang loosely around his neck, "how the rubbing of the brake pad against the brake disc generates friction..." he lowers his voice as he sits lightly on the edge of the car and gives your hips a squeeze
"mm, tell me more..." you play along, letting yoongi pull you closer so that you're settled nicely in between his legs
"i don't know, maybe i should save all the good stuff for the bedroom..."
you resist the urge to immediately start whining when you lean in only for yoongi to dodge your kiss, "hey, i like you in these baggy overalls, by the way." he suddenly changes the subject and you feel your cheeks flush when both his hands slide in through the gaps until he's able to grip your bum, "big, big fan of them-"
"you- namjoon and jungkook are right there-" you gawk, "at least have the decency to turn me around so they don't see you fully groping me-"
"they can always just close their eyes or something-"
"okay, you two, break it up-!" you hear namjoon's claps echoing from the office as he tries to get your attention and you immediately turn to look at him with a grin, "god, it's like you sick freaks want to rub it in our faces-"
"okay, i have to get to work so why don't you go and hang out with namjoon in the office?" yoongi stands up, being careful not to hit the top of his head on the hood, "he'll let you play chess on the computer if you ask nicely."
"i thought i was helping you out today!" you frown, grabbing onto his hand before waving it back and forth, "you said i did a good job handing you the tools and stuff. i'm getting better at not mixing all the different types of screwdrivers up!"
yoongi can't help but laugh at how needy you're being and he reaches up with his free hand to adjust his bandana
"i know you wanna help, but i promise you there's nothing exciting about repairing a master cylinder." he hums, reaching up to pinch your cheek playfully, "plus, don't you still have a huge research paper to work on?"
"yeah, but i'd much rather hang out with you..." you pout, yoongi cooing before leaning in to give your pushed-out bottom lip a little kiss
"we can hang out when we're both done with work."
"okay..." you purse your lips before letting go of his hand, "it's your loss. i'm a fantastic helper."
"mhm, you certainly are-" yoongi spins you around before pushing his palm against your lower back to get you to move, "now go and bug namjoon!"
you turn back to glance at yoongi one last time and he sweeps his hands at you to tell you to gO
it was getting hot in the garage anyway and namjoon always has the aircon blasting in the office
"sorry! only sad, single people are allowed in this area-" namjoon jokes as soon as you step in, gesturing to the office space with a grin, "leave or i'll have security escort you out."
"oh, stop it." you giggle, folding your arms up on the counter and leaning forward, "i keep telling you i'd be more than happy to set you up with one of my friends!!"
"i know, and that's very nice of you to offer, but i just want to find someone organically, you know?" namjoon sighs, leaning back against his chair before looking up at the ceiling wistfully, "being set up with someone doesn't feel like a natural process."
"namjoon thinks he's the main character of a shitty netflix romantic comedy." jungkook mutters, the two of you exchanging low giggles with each other
"well, if no one comes into your life organically you can always let me know and i'll- woah-" you jump in surprise when the sound of a roaring engine suddenly shatters the peaceful atmosphere and you turn around just in time to see a sleek car veering into the shop
you wince and raise a hand to shield your eyes from the bright headlights and you don't get a chance to make the first comment because jungkook beats you to it
(for the record, you were going to talk about how dramatic of an entrance whatever that was)
"oh my god. that is the sexiest car i've ever seen in my entire life." he breathes out, stepping away from the counter so he can stand by the door and get a closer look, "a 1965 mustang. nice."
"fun fact: i was actually thinking about getting a vintage mustang! i wanted an olive green one because i could've named her 'olive' which is super cute-" you nod enthusiastically, looking back and forth between namjoon and jungkook only for them to.,., completely ignore you and continue staring at the glossy mustang sitting out front
"okay, you guys, it's just a car-" you roll your eyes and let out a little snort of disbelief, "this isn't going to change your life or anything-"
a high-heel clad foot steps out of the car and onto the pavement and you immediately recognize the classic red-bottom louboutins
you actually own a pair of them as well but you rarely wear them out because you're always paranoid that you're going to topple over and snap an ankle and that would be completely mortifying
they're six inches tall!!!!
for the record, they look very nice sitting (collecting dust) on your shelf but now you're starting to think that it might be a good idea to wear them out again because this stranger makes it look like walking in them is easy breezy beautiful
"holy shit. is that lisa?" namjoon murmurs, reaching up to push his glasses up the bridge of his nose, "oh, wow. she..."
"i don't remember her looking like that the last time we saw her." jungkook whistles lowly, "hello, miss manoban."
"lisa- who's lisa?" you frown, tilting your head in curiosity as you watch this mysterious lisa toss her oversized sunglasses into the front seat of the car before slamming the door shut
"uh, she's just one of yoongi's exes- she actually used to work here but-" namjoon reaches over the counter so he can nudge you aside gently to get a better look, "when did she get a vintage mustang?!"
lisa leans down to look at herself in the side mirror, smearing some red lipstick over her pillowy bottom lip before rubbing her lips together and nodding satisfactorily
"guess her car-wrapping business really took off." jungkook hums, his eyes glued to the car
she seems to be moving in slow motion as she takes her hair down and shakes her head back and forth, the three of you tilting your heads at the same time as you watch her in awe
"car-wrapping?" you ask curiously, "she must spend a fortune on wrapping paper and giant bows-"
"no, obviously it's not actual wrapping- like-" jungkook huffs and you resist the urge to bop him over the head at how snappy he's being with you when he already knows you're clueless when it comes to this kind of stuff, "okay, you know how you said that if you ever got a g-wagon for yourself one day that you wanted to make it baby blue just like beeper and also matte? lisa could do that for you."
"oh! in that case, it might be nice to get a business card from her or something-" you make a mental note before shaking your head and turning back around to face namjoon, "hey, so, super casual, can we round back to the whole 'yoongi's ex' thing real quickly because i-"
"yoohoo, boys!" lisa whistles, grinning excitedly when she's suddenly joined by everyone outside one by one, "what, no one thought to roll out the red carpet for me?"
"c'mon, namjoon! let's go say hi to lisa and her vintage 'stang!!" jungkook grins, gesturing for namjoon to hurry before he's darting out the door, "lisa, hey!"
"yeah, okay!!" namjoon gets up from his seat so quickly that he sends his chair rolling back and smacking against the file cabinets, "oh, y/n-! if anyone calls, just send them straight to voicemail-"
"but i-" you don't get a chance to say anything before namjoon's brushing past you and dashing out the door as well
you don't know too much about lisa but obviously she's a pretty big deal around here
it'd probably be good for you to go and introduce yourself instead of awkwardly hanging out in the office by yourself
"hello, lisa. it's very nice to meet you. firm handshake." you mutter to yourself as you step out of the office and head towards the bustling group of boys, "hey, lisa! so great to meet you. firm handshake. hi, girlie-! nope, don't like that one-"
"-in town for business so i thought it'd be nice to swing by and visit my boys." you manage to catch the end of lisa's sentences as you join the boys, trying not to make any sudden movements to catch her attention
"you should've texted one of us or something!" namjoon pulls his phone out of his back pocket, "we could've ordered a pizza for lunch-"
you reach over to give the back of yoongi's jumpsuit a little tug just to get his attention and he glances over his shoulder at you before offering you a teasing smile and reaching back to wiggle his fingers against your stomach
you giggle lightly before swatting his hand away and he turns back to look at lisa
"well, i wanted to surprise you guys!" lisa chirps, tucking her clutch underneath her armpit before clapping her hands together, "i see nothing's changed around here... except for..." you feel your heart drop when she suddenly leans over and looks directly at you, "hello! i don't think we've ever met."
"oh, shoot- sorry, i should've introduced you sooner-" yoongi steps aside so that he isn't blocking you, "lisa, this is y/n! y/n, this is lisa." he smiles, gesturing towards lisa, "my girlfriend." he pauses and quickly shakes his head at his little flub-up, "i mean- lisa, this is y/n, my girlfriend-"
"he's definitely gonna pay for that later." jimin mutters, jungkook snickering before nudging at his side to get him to shut up
"it's super nice to meet you, y/n!" lisa doesn't acknowledge yoongi's error and she steps forward to get closer to you
she's practically towering over you but it's really just because of the stilettos
she turns her head to look at the boys and a second of silence goes by before they realize what she's asking of them and they all scatter in different directions
you give yoongi a look that basically screams S.O.S. and you resist the urge to burst into tears when he gives you a cheery thumbs up in return and trots off to go and do something else
you'll be fine
you have nothing to be nervous about!
this is just yoongi's very hot ex who looks like a million bucks while you'e currently dressed like a giant toddler
it doesn't help that you're wearing what's commonly known as a 'baby tee' under these overalls
"you- yeah, you too-" you chuckle uneasily, giving her a weak handshake before pulling away with a smile, "i'm sorry, i'm a little underdressed-" you pause to gesture to the grubby overalls you have on, "i promise i look better than this most of the time..."
"oh, don't be silly. i just grabbed the first outfit i saw out of my suitcase and threw it on-" she sighs, reaching up to pick some lint off her blazer that you're pretty sure you saw in the most recent YSL spring catalog (in fact, you're pretty sure it's on your to-buy list), "so, what do you do?"
"me? i- uh, well, nothing, at the moment- i'm still studying for my undergraduate degree, so..." you shrug sheepishly, reaching up to scratch the back of your neck
for some reason you can't seem to maintain eye contact with her for more than three seconds at a time
"oh! you're still in school?"
"yeah, i- well, i'm graduating this year, so i'm almost out of school if you think about it that way- but yes. yes, i... am currently a university student, so that's what i'm doing."
"mm, cute! what are you studying?"
"history! i'm a history major and a marine biology minor." you nod, "so... the cold war and... like, sharks. something like that."
"ah, very cool."
to be honest you're not entirely sure if lisa's being sincere or not but you'll take the compliment either way
you can tell she's trying to scope you out - which is fair, because this is the first time you two are meeting and you're currently involved with someone she used to be involved with
"i'm sorry. i'm probably, like, freaking you out right now, aren't i?" lisa snorts, reaching out and placing her hand on your forearm for a split second, "i promise i'm just genuinely curious and i'm not trying to, like, interrogate you or anything. it's super nice to meet you! and honestly- i love the overalls. the little knee patches are adorable."
"oh, thank you..." you smile nervously, reaching down to glance at the mismatched patches of fabric sewn onto the knees of your overalls, "yoongi actually sewed 'em on for me! i usually wear this whenever i'm here because i'm okay with getting it dirty- i, um, i like your blazer! and your heels. and your purse- a chanel clutch is a classic!"
"ooh, someone has an eye for fashion..." lisa winks, raising her clutch and waving it slightly, "maybe after i'm done talking business with yoongi we can talk about gucci's new multicolour line-"
"oh, i have so many thoughts on gucci's new multicolour line!" you gasp, suddenly reignited with a spurt of energy, "honestly the colour scheme is very stabilo highlighters to me but we can talk about it later- i'll just be hanging out in the office, so you can find me there whenever you're ready-"
"perfect!" lisa gives you a thumbs up before pointing over to where yoongi is, "if you'll excuse me, i have to go and talk about boring things with yoongi-"
"mhm!" you watch with a smile as lisa click-clacks off towards yoongi before you spin around on your heels, giving yourself a mental pat on the back for how well you handled that interaction
lisa's actually nicer than you thought she'd be!
obviously the saying don't judge a book by its cover is very applicable here
"so... what'd you think of lisa?" namjoon joins your side before nudging you gently, "she's nice, right?"
"i like her! she seems really cool." you nod enthusiastically, pausing to glance over your shoulder to look at her from behind, "i need to ask her for tips on walking in those louboutins and how not to fall over."
"you know, i must say i'm pleasantly surprised at how you're handling this." namjoon snorts, holding back for a second to let you into the office first before he steps in behind you, "colour me impressed!"
"thank you!" you reach over to pull the lollipop jar towards you before suddenly pausing and looking back over at namjoon with a frown, "hold on a sec, what's that supposed to mean?"
"hm? oh, it's nothing." namjoon scrunches his nose, dismissing you with a flick of his wrist as he takes his seat behind the counter, "i just know that if i was in your shoes and my significant other's very attractive and very successful ex came back i would be a little antsy about it-" namjoon glances up from the computer and his eyes widen in panic when he notices that your eyes have widened in panic, "i- i mean- not that you're not very attractive and very successful- what i'm trying to say is that you have nothing to worry- you and yoongi seem like a very stable couple so-"
"do you think maybe you could tell me a bit about yoongi and lisa?" you interrupt his spiral and you feel yourself starting to get a little fidgety, "because i- i actually don't know anything about that situation-"
namjoon has a point, now that you think about it
lisa is very successful and very attractive and can walk in high heels very elegantly
and what about you?
yesterday you submitted a paper one minute before the deadline because of how much procrastinating you had done
and you haven't worn heels in forever because they just hurt so much
but lisa wouldn't complain about her feet hurting in high heels
lisa could have a hundred blisters and still walk into the room with a beautiful, red-lipped smile
"has he never told you about her?" namjoon frowns, "i feel like every couple should at least have one conversation about their past relationships."
"i think he tried to one time, but i- i dunno, you can't blame me for not wanting to sit there and listen to yoongi talking about all the girls he's been with, so i just changed the subject..." you mutter, pushing the jar away from you after pulling a strawberry lollipop out, "kind of regretting that decision now."
it's not like you have a reason to be insecure or anything, right?
your relationship with yoongi is very solid and there are certainly no trust issues or communication issues or anything of the sort
but he is your first boyfriend...,., and this is your first serious relationship which means you've had no prior experiences to learn from which means you're just going with the flow most of the time.,., so is it possible that you're being a little naïve right now?
"still, i don't think me telling you all the details of their relationship is a good idea because i feel like this is a conversation you should be having with yoongi-" namjoon chuckles nervously, leaning back against his chair before tucking a pencil behind his ear, "sorry, kiddo. i'm not trying to stir the pot here."
"i- oh, c'mon, joon- what's it gonna take, huh?" you reach into the front pocket of your overalls before subtly flashing a folded up hundred dollar bill, pursing your lips slightly as your eyes flicker back and forth between namjoon and your chest-money, "hm??"
"first of all, it's very concerning to me that you stash loose cash in your pocket like that. second of all, are you really trying to bribe me into telling you about yoongi and lisa?" namjoon asks incredulously
"what?! no!" you scoff, tucking the bill back into your pocket before pausing and raising an eyebrow, "...is it working?"
"no! in fact, i find it offensive that you think i'd be so easily swayed-"
"the next time i bring sushi for lunch, i'll get you your own mango shrimp tempura roll." you offer, namjoon staring at you blankly before he suddenly springs into action
"so, they used to sleep together, obviously." he clears his throat, "when lisa started working here, i kind of expected her to get involved with one of us and unsurprisingly it was yoongi, because... well, it's yoongi- i'm pretty sure it was a friends with benefits kind of thing because i remember asking him about it and he said they didn't want to put a label on it? and then at one point jimin asked lisa about it because all of us were super curious and she called it a 'situationship'... which, personally, i think is a pretty cheesy label- i dunno, they'd go out to dinners sometimes and occasionally they'd come into work together in the morning because- well, you know- uh, they were in this 'situationship' for... maybe, like, eight months? and then lisa got an opportunity to work elsewhere and she took it and they decided to call it off and fast forward to now... here we are!" namjoon claps his hands together before pressing his palm over his heart, "and i promise you that's all the information i have- well, maybe this piece of information might be useful to you: they were, like, super horny for each other all the time. like, almost outrageously horny, which i think is one of the downfalls of the relationship because you can't base a solid relationship off of animalistic sex, right? ooh, there was one time i caught them in yoongi's office and lisa was-"
"okay, i think that's enough-!" you hold a hand out to shut namjoon up and he shrugs before leaning back against his chair, "more than enough, actually-"
you weren't expecting to learn about the raw, animalistic sex yoongi had with lisa, but then again, you weren't expecting to even meet lisa at all
should you be nervous??
you shouldn't be nervous, right??
...yeah, you're being ridiculous!
yoongi has been with other girls before and that shouldn't bother you because you didn't exist then
this has nothing to do with you!
so what if he bent her over the office table and-
okay, maybe it's time to stop thinking about this because the point is: you're fine. don't worry. everything is normal. yoongi is your boyfriend. lisa is his ex. everything is great!
"by the way, i want you to know that you honestly have nothing to worry about." namjoon suddenly chimes in as if he can read your mind, "lisa was yoongi's past but you are his present and most likely his future as well, so- seriously, don't even worry about it."
"yeah, you're right. it'd be silly of me to be upset about yoongi being with someone else when i wasn't even in the picture yet." you snort, reaching up to smack your own forehead gently, "okay! i'm feeling a little better. it would've been nice to not be informed about how horny they were for each other, but thank you for that detail-"
"yo, where are the snap ring pliers from my toolbox?" you turn just in time to see yoongi pop his head in, "i can't find them anywhere... i swear to god, everyone keeps borrowing my tools and 'forgetting' to put them back-" he rolls his eyes before looking over at you with a smile, "hi, baby-"
"hi yoongi-" you giggle, all your doubts and insecurities immediately fluttering away
see? nothing to worry about!
it feels like a weight's been lifted off your shoulders
"i think hoseok might've been using them earlier this morning." namjoon hums, "what do you need them for?"
"oh, lisa offered to help me out with the master cylinder repair and she needs 'em." yoongi points back over his shoulder, "you know how great she is with her hands-"
"woah, i thought-" your voice cracks slightly and you clear your throat, "i thought, uh- you were working on it yourself? like, i thought you didn't need any help and that's why i'm in here-"
"oh, i don't, but- well, lisa's good with fine-tuning so i might as well take advantage of her expertise while she's here." yoongi snorts before looking back over at namjoon, "you said hoseok had them?"
you bite down on your tongue to keep yourself from commenting any further
as we've already established, you have nothing to worry about.
»»————- 🛠️ ————-««
"and... voilà!" you smile satisfactorily to yourself after you set the scented candle down on the coffee table
the living room is going to smell like warm brown sugar and cinnamon in a few minutes and you can't wait
this is yoongi's favourite candle so you hope he'll be excited about that when he gets here :'))
you've been preparing the apartment for his arrival and lighting the candle was one of the last things on your to-do list
you still have to order dinner for tonight and you've always been awful at making decisions so you figured it'd be best to let yoongi choose instead
you haven't seen him for about a week and a half because of finals (and, being perfectly honest, you were the one who implemented this distancing rule in the first place because you know you won't be able to focus on studying when yoongi's in the apartment with you) so you're pretty pumped for tonight!!
you hum to yourself as you click on yoongi's phone number in your contacts, flopping back on the couch with a fwump! while your legs swing lazily over the arm
the phone picks up after a couple of rings and it takes you a second to realize that the voice on the other end certainly does not belong to your boyfriend
"he-" you pause, pulling your phone away from your ear and frowning at the unfamiliar voice before bringing it back, "um, hello?"
"hi! who's this?"
"who's this?" you point to yourself before scoffing lightly, "what do you mean who- who's this?"
"oh- oh, y/n! hey, it's lisa!" lisa greets enthusiastically and you relax a little knowing that it's just lisa, "sorry, i didn't look at the contact name before picking up- what's up?"
"well, i-" you pause again to recollect your thoughts, "um, sorry, i guess i was just expecting yoongi to pick up his own phone so i'm a little lost right now-"
"oh my gosh, don't even worry about it! yoongi's hands are super gross right now so i offered to take his call for him which is why i picked up the phone. is there something you wanted me to pass along to him?"
"yeah, you could pass his phone right along to him-" you joke before reminding yourself to keep the unnecessary cattiness to a minimum, "yeah, um- can you ask him what time he's coming over? so that i know what time to order our food and stuff? i want the food to still be nice and hot by the time he gets here, so i just need a time from him, that's all-"
"yeah, about that... i actually don't think yoongi's going to make it for dinner."
"i-" you frown, pushing yourself up so that you're leaning back against an elbow, "what? why not?"
"the thing is, i hooked him up with a bunch of clients so the poor thing's been working like a dog all day and it looks like he's going to be stuck here for a while... if you're worried about him skipping dinner, i can totally go and get some food for him if you want! there's this sandwich place a block away and i know what he likes-"
your eyes widen slightly at how... happy? lisa sounds about the fact that yoongi potentially won't be joining you for dinner and you nod to yourself as you clench your jaw
"that's- that's very kind of you, lisa-" your voice is a little pitchier than usual at this point and you clear your throat obnoxiously, "i'm sorry, i just really have to talk to yoongi for a second so if you could just, like, hold the phone up to his ear that would be okay too-"
"okay! gimme a sec." there's a bit of shuffling on the other end and you press your lips together as you wait (im)patiently, "yoongs! it's y/n... dinner... hot food... her place... clients... pretty busy tonight..."
and she even has a nickname for him
that's just downright adorable, isn't it?
"god, just give him the damn phone." you mutter under your breath, raising your other hand to inspect your cuticles as you lie back down on the couch
you should probably schedule another manicure soon
"-it's okay, i can hold the phone myself- y/n?" you perk up when you hear yoongi on the other end and you can't help but kick your legs in excitement
you can't help it!!!
you haven't heard his voice in a whole week and a half!!!
"greetings, yoongs." you tease, "what time are you going to be here?" you bypass lisa's whole monologue about yoongi probably not being able to come over tonight in hopes that she'll be wrong about him ditching you to continue working, "i wanna order the food so it'll get here a little before you arrive. also, i haven't chosen what we're going to eat tonight so you're going to have to choose for us-"
"right, about that-" yoongi clears his throat, "i know i was supposed to come over for dinner tonight but- listen, i don't know what lisa did but obviously she's got a lot of connections now and the shop has literally never been this busy before..." he pauses and you hear the sound of loud clanging in the background, "you understand, don't you?"
it takes you a couple of seconds to process the fact that yoongi really won't be coming over tonight and you puff your cheeks out to keep yourself from immediately whining in protest
to say the least, you are.,.,,. very disappointed,.., but!! it won't be the end of the world, right?
you hate that lisa was right, but that's a conversation you can have with yourself another time
and if yoongi won't be here, that means you can hog all the garlic cheesy bread to yourself so maybe this is a blessing in disguise >:-)
"no, yeah, i- yeah, get it!" you nod, "i love that business is booming, i just don't love that you didn't text me or call me earlier to let me know you weren't going to come over tonight," you frown, turning your head to look at the flickering candle, "a heads up would've been nice, that's all..."
"i asked lisa to text you earlier when my hands were full... sorry, she must've forgot..."
"oh. yeah, i guess it could've slipped her mind." you respond dryly, "it would've taken, like, five seconds to text me-"
"okay, i-" you hear yoongi let out a small sigh before he speaks up again, "i'm sorry, baby, i really am- do you- i can come over now if you want me t-"
"no, it's okay! i'm sorry, i'm just-" you shake your head quickly before chuckling uneasily, "i just haven't seen you in a while so i miss you, that's all- but i'll let you get back to work now and i'll see you later?"
"yes! you are the best, you really are- look, i promise i'll be all yours as soon as i-"
"yoongi! these tires aren't going to change themselves, silly-"
"oh, c'mon-" you grumble, your teeth grinding slightly at the interruption of lisa's peppy voice in the background
"uh- yeah, in a sec-! i gotta go, doll- i'll call you later-"
"okay, b-" you don't get a chance to even say goodbye before the line goes dead and the only thing you can hear is an obnoxious beeeeeeeeeeeeeeeep- "-ye."
»»————- 🛠️ ————-««
one of your goals for the new year was to try your best to not hold a grudge
admittedly, holding grudges is one of your specialties so it's been a little bit difficult but you think you've been doing an okay job so far!
like that time jungkook accidentally drowned you with dirty car water because he didn't see you and also he had headphones on so he couldn't hear you
you were ready to strangle him right then and there but you just took a deep breath and reminded yourself that *~deep-cleaning services exist~*
and sure, you were a little upset that yoongi couldn't make it for dinner the other night and that the two of you haven't really had a chance to have a moment alone because of how swamped he's been with work, but... well, the past is in the past and challenges like this are good for your personal growth!
plus, it's the start of a new week so you're just going to focus on the present
you try your best to keep your footsteps as quiet as possible as you approach a preoccupied yoongi from behind
he's currently sorting out all the things to do on his giant whiteboard (you bought this for the boys because you thought it'd be a good way to organize all their tasks and unsurprisingly, namjoon was the most excited about it)
"guess who?" you hold your hands over yoongi's eyes with a giddy smile and he immediately spins around to face you
"hey, what are you doing here?" yoongi asks, leaning down to give you a quick kiss before pulling away to check the time on his watch, "aren't you supposed to be in class right now?"
"my history seminar was cancelled because my professor had some kind of an emergency so i thought i'd come and have lunch with you guys!" you hum, reaching over to fix the thin silver chain hanging around yoongi's neck, "i was going to pick the food up before coming here but i didn't want to just choose for everyone so i thought it'd be better to get everyone's orders first-"
"oh, you don't have to do that, baby-" yoongi shakes his head, capping the marker and dropping it back into the wire holder, "lisa actually offered to treat us to lunch- apparently there's some bagel place that has, like, a hundred different fillings-"
"lisa's here?" you interrupt, suddenly straightening your back before looking around quickly, "i... was not aware that lisa was... still here! i thought she was only here for a little while-"
"mm, she ended up extending her stay! one of her clients pushed their appointment to thursday so she came over to help out for the day."
"oh, cool." you nod, pressing your lips together as you take a second to sort through your thoughts
your nose scrunches slightly as you weigh the pros and cons of saying what you're about to say to yoongi
it won't kill you to ask, right?
"hey, i don't wanna, um-" you pause, "you know, i don't wanna... be that girlfriend, but... do you think that there's a slight possibility that lisa might still have feelings for you?"
a moment of silence goes by before yoongi practically barks out a laugh of disbelief
"what? lisa? no, no- that- no, don't be ridiculous." he snorts, shaking his head before turning back around to face the whiteboard, "lisa most certainly does not still have feelings for me- and, by the way, she was the one who broke things off with me, so if anything, i should be the one who still has feelings for-" he stops himself midway and presses his lips together before turning to glance at you over his shoulder, "you know, i'm hearing the words coming out of my mouth and i... am going to shut up now."
"mm, good choice." you raise a brow before shrugging, "alright, well, i just- you know, it's a possibility but if you say that lisa doesn't still have feelings for you, then i believe you-"
"alright, boys! it's chow time!"
you turn your head to see lisa waltzing into the shop carrying two large paper bags and the rest of the boys immediately rush over to her like moths to a flame
she brought bagels for lunch?
you're not trying to be biased or anything sandwiches are easier to eat, in your personal opinion
you basically have to unhinge your jaw to get a good bite of a bagel
"y/n!" lisa looks more than surprised at your presence when you and yoongi walk over the join the group, "i wasn't aware you were going to be here today- yoongi told me that you had class so i-" she pauses to set the bags down on the table, "oh my goodness, i am so sorry but i really didn't know you'd be joining us for lunch... yoongi, you could've texted me or something-"
"she just got here!" yoongi shrugs as he takes a seat at the table, "don't pin this on me-"
"ah, i probably look like such a jerk right now..." lisa winces, scratching the back of her head before reaching down to grab a bagel out of one of the paper bags, "here! you can take my bagel-"
"no, no, it's alright!" you hold your hands out before shaking them, "don't be silly, you don't have to do that- it's very nice of you to offer but i- it's alright, you go ahead and enjoy yourself!"
"oh, stop- take the bagel, y/n." lisa scoffs playfully, practically shoving the bagel into your arms before rummaging through the bags again, "i'll just share a bagel with yoongi! you don't mind, right, yoongs?"
"yeah, i had a snack earlier so i'm not, like, starving or anything-" yoongi nods, "what kind of filling is it?"
"this one is..." lisa pauses to look at the sticker on the top, "smoked salmon and dill cream cheese with capers."
"yoongi doesn't like capers." you chime in, suddenly feeling the need to prove to everyone that you know your boyfriend very well, "i remember they were sprinkled in a salad one time and he said they were too salty-"
"eh, i'll survive. i can always just pick 'em out." yoongi shrugs nonchalantly and you can't help but purse your lips in mild frustration at his response
"'atta boy! luckily, they're already sliced in half otherwise we'd have to take turns taking bites which would be weird-"
"agreed." you mutter, peeling the label off your bagel and sticking it onto the side instead
"oh, lisa! i was wondering if maybe you could help me out with some custom headlights i'm working on?" hoseok perks up, "i'm having some trouble getting the halo lights to work and i need your magic hands-"
"mhm! i can definitely check them out after lunch-" lisa grins, taking a seat next to yoongi, "anyone need a napkin?"
"i need one too-"
"pass one over here-"
you know it's silly of you to be feeling jealous over this because god knows the only thing you know about cars is that key go in and car go vroom so obviously the boys would never ask you to help them out with anything like how they're asking lisa to help out
and you're trying very hard to noT throw a self-pity party but it's getting harder and harder to not to that
(and it certainly doesn't help that there aren't any more seats left at the table)
you just can't help but feel so!!!!! inferior!!!!! compared to lisa
she's so cool and pretty and witty and obviously very knowledgable about cars
and what are you bringing to the table??
ham and cheese sandwiches??? fancy sushi rolls????
obviously not anymore because they've been replaced by these stupid bagels
this is the first time you haven't been able to throw money at a problem and you're not,.., sure.,., how you feel about it,..,
"i, uh, have to work on a paper, so i think i'm going to go and eat this in the office if anyone wants to come with?" you clear your throat quietly as you start to back away from the table slowly, "...or i can just go fuck myself, which is fine too."
you're not entirely surprised when your comment isn't acknowledged by anyone and you nod to yourself before swiftly turning on your heel and trying your best not to storm towards the office
you force your fists to uncurl and your shoulders to relax slightly but you can't help but make a face when you hear the boys laughing obnoxiously at one of lisa's jokes
of course she has to be funny as well
because the woman literally has zero flaws
you've been trying to find a reason to hate her and so far you haven't found anything negative to say
hating someone for having perfectly styled hair is a little odd
the legs of the chair screech against the floor as you pull it out and plop down
you like eating alone anyway
you unwrap the parchment paper and pick up the bagel before taking an overly aggressive bite of it, your cheeks practically bursting from how much food is currently in your mouth
you wipe your mouth with the back of your hand as you chew, tossing the bagel back onto the wrapper with a thunk!
this is the best goddamn bagel you've ever had in your entire life!!
"phtupid phriggin' bavhel." you grumble, reaching up to wipe the sauce off the corner of your mouth before swallowing roughly, "even the mayo is delicious! god, what is this? some kind of garlic mayo-"
"oh my god. i think she's finally lost it." you jolt upon hearing jungkook's voice and you turn to see him and jimin standing at the door
"what's your problem?" jimin asks, the two of them walking over to join you at your sad, lonely table
"what? nothing. i don't have a problem." you shake your head stubbornly, "i just- i just wanted to be alone, that doesn't mean something's wrong-"
"is that why you're in here basically yelling at a bagel?" jungkook points out as he pulls out a chair and sits on your right
"i'm- i'm just stressed about- my paper. or whatever. it's whatever, i'm fine-"
"you can talk to us, you know." you frown when jungkook suddenly reaches over and in an uncharacteristic move, places both hands over yours
"is it about lisa?" jimin asks, crinkling his nose as he sits down as well, "it's about lisa, isn't it?"
"no, it's not-" you press your lips together before letting out a light laugh, "you know, i don't even have a reason to be upset about lisa, right? she's super cool and very nice and knows a lot about cars and is yoongi's age and namjoon blessed me with the knowledge that she, apparently, was a very passionate lover- so i have nothing to be upset about!" you snap, slapping your palm down on the table before wincing and cradling your hand to your chest, "...everything is fine."
"i have to say, i really don't think jealousy is a good look on you." jungkook clicks his tongue before glancing down at your feet, "i also don't know if those shoes are a good look on you- jeez, it's like the people at gucci are just pulling design elements out of a hat-"
"you are not making me feel any better, jungkook- these shoes are new!"
"ooh, you should make him jealous!" jungkook suddenly lights up and the fluorescent light hanging above you guys flickers for a second
"we're going to have to round back to my shoes later because i really don't think they're that bad-"
"you should make him jealous and give him a taste of his own medicine..." jungkook trails off, ignoring your previous comments once again, "it's what you deserve."
"i'm not- i'm not doing that." you chuckle uneasily, "are you serious? this isn't high school and getting him back would just be petty of me-"
"but it'd feel so nice to be petty, don't you think?" jungkook encourages, scooting a little closer to you with a devilish grin, "think about it, y/n. don't you wanna see yoongi get all hot and possessive over you-"
"i don't think it's a good idea." jimin chimes in, shaking his head quickly as he moves in closer as well, "because if yoongi finds out you orchestrated something just to get him back, that might create an issue of trust in the relationship, and that would be very, very bad-"
"oh, but it feels so good to be bad..." jungkook coos, poking your arm with his pointer finger, "so, so good..."
"uh, i don't think so! i'd like to argue that it feels bad to be bad-"
"don't listen to jimin, he's a wuss-"
"don't listen to jungkook, he's an idiot-!"
"okay, cut it out!" you snap, shoving your hands into both their chests to keep them from coming any closer, "i... must admit, i do want to do something to piss yoongi off because of how much he's pissed me off, but... i'm not like that, you know? and i don't want to come off as some crazy girlfriend because-" you pause when you notice jungkook's finger creeping closer and closer to your bagel and you immediately deflate as soon as you realize what's going on here, "oh my god. you guys only came in here because you wanted to try my bagel, didn't you?"
jungkook and jimin exchange knowing glances before looking up at you sheepishly
"yeah, that makes more sense-" you snort, rolling your eyes before pushing the bagel away from you, "have at it, you animals."
you lean back against your chair, stroking your chin in thought as the sound of jungkook and jimin bickering over who gets the bigger half of the bagel starts to fade out
to be petty or not to be petty, that is the question...
»»————- 🛠️ ————-««
(spoiler alert: the answer to the previous question is to be petty. very, very petty.)
»»————- 🛠️ ————-««
"namjoon! where did you put my keys??" yoongi calls out, yanking open another drawer to rifle through its contents, "i'm supposed to pick y/n up from campus and i can't find them anywhere... i don't want her to just stand there waiting for me..."
"looking for these?"
yoongi looks up to see lisa standing by the door with his keys in her hand before she tosses them to him
"yes! you're a lifesaver, thanks-" he catches them with one hand before stepping out from behind the counter, "i thought you were leaving today? we already said goodbye to you this morning-"
"yeah, i know-" lisa chuckles as she steps into the office, "it's just that... well, i was going to just leave but i actually had something i needed to talk to you about before i left. i felt it wouldn't be fair to either one of us if i didn't say anything."
"mm. what's up?" yoongi hums, sticking his hand into the lollipop jar to pull a cherry flavoured one out
he pulls another one out before tucking it into his pocket (one for you when he picks you up!)
"well, i guess i should just go ahead and say it- just gotta rip the bandaid off-" lisa straightens her blazer before clearing her throat, "yes."
"...yes?" yoongi frowns, unwrapping his lollipop before popping it into his mouth and scrunching up the wrapper, "i'm not following. yes to what?"
"oh, don't play dumb-" lisa snorts, flicking her wrist at him, "yes, as in: i would love to rekindle our friends with benefits situationship-"
"woah, what?!" yoongi immediately chokes and he yanks the lollipop out of his mouth before patting his chest roughly, "what are you- what the hell are you talking about??"
"what do you mean what the hell am i talking about??" lisa stares at him incredulously before shaking her head, "you're the one who's been giving me secret signals all week-"
"signals-" yoongi's gawks, "what signals??"
"you know, like, how you cancelled dinner plans with her so you could be with me..." lisa croons, taking a step closer towards him
"i cancelled dinner plans with y/n so i could be with twenty cars-" yoongi inches to the side so he can make a quick getaway to run behind the counter in case lisa pounces, "which, i'm realizing doesn't make me sound like the best boyfriend but- i most certainly didn't cancel just to spend private time with you, no offence-"
"what about when we shared a bagel and you didn't complain about the capers??" lisa snaps, lunging towards yoongi only for him to quickly spin out of the way and hurry to get behind the counter
"uh, we shared a bagel because i wasn't hungry for a full bagel and i thought you weren't either, and also-" yoongi grabs namjoon's wheely chair as a makeshift barrier between him and lisa, "i'm a grown man, i'm not going to throw a fit over some friggin' capers-"
"how about when i squeezed your arm and asked you if you'd been working out and you totally flexed your arm for me??" lisa grabs the arms of the chair before yanking and aggressively rolling it behind her, yoongi's eyes widening in panic at the sudden empty space in between the two of them
"i flexed it to prove to you that i have indeed been working out-!" yoongi hops up onto the counter as soon as lisa darts towards him and he hurries to jump off so he's on the other side of it, knocking the phone and namjoon's pen holder down onto the ground in the process, "friends can ask each other if they've been hitting the gym!! i squeeze namjoon's arms all the time because his biceps are literally boulders-"
"i just feel like we have unfinished business, you know?" lisa whines, pausing for a second before bringing a hand up to bite down on the tip of her pointer finger teasingly, "plus, you have to admit that our sex was super hot-"
"are you- hello, i'm dating y/n!" yoongi gasps, "our business is finished! we have no more- we're out of business, lisa!"
"oh, c'mon." lisa raises a brow, clearly unimpressed with his reaction, "it's not going to hurt anyone to keep me as your sexy little secret- it's perfect! i only come into town, like, once or twice a year, so she won't even suspect anythi-"
"what are you- are you insane?! i'm not going to cheat on y/n-" yoongi chokes before raising his hands in defence, "lisa, you're a very beautiful woman and we do have a history, but- look, i'm sorry if i sent you mixed signals this week, that was certainly not my intention- please understand that i am very much not trying to cheat on someone who i love very much and who i'm pretty sure loves me back, so-"
"then who's that person she's so obviously flirting with right now?" lisa points over his shoulder, "also, she's barely visited you this week. what kind of girlfriend doesn't want to always be with her boyfriend??"
"first of all, space can be healthy, and second of all, she- hold on, you said flirting?" yoongi turns to look over his shoulder and out the door, tilting his head slightly when he sees you standing at the front of the garage laughing with... someone he certainly doesn't recognize...
"you can leave all of this behind and come and work for me, yoongi-" yoongi jumps when he suddenly feels hands grasping at the collar of his jumpsuit and he turns back to see lisa standing right in front of him (how did she move so quickly and quietly?!), "we can be happy together, i swear-"
"yeah, cool, just give me a second-" yoongi gently yanks lisa's hands off of him before hurrying out of the office and making a beeline right for you and this mysterious stranger
"oop- okay, he's coming this way-" baekhyun mutters, glancing over your shoulder before looking back at you, "it's show time. you ready?" he hums, reaching over to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear
"what do you think? do we look convincing?" you reach down to unbutton another button on your blouse before adjusting the collar
it's taking everything within you noT to whip around to see if yoongi's just walking towards you or if he's storming towards you... because there's definitely a difference and you definitely want it to be the latter
the plan you came up with had a pretty simple formula: one handsome stranger + one flirty, oblivious y/n = one jealous yoongi
jungkook had a point about how nice it'd be to get yoongi all riled up and possessive and frankly you think you deserve it considering how dismissive he's been with you all week... which is why you were more than happy to recruit your very handsome friend baekhyun (he's very sweet / you met last semester in one of your history courses / he was more than willing to help out with your plan because he's a theatre major and this is good practice for him) to help you out with your plan!
"you're laughing like a robot." baekhyun lowers his voice, "i told you to act natural-"
"i'm being natural! ha, ha! ha! ha-ha. you're so funny, baek-" you giggle obnoxiously, reaching over to slap his chest gently, "you are absolutely the funniest person i've ever met-"
"y/n!" yoongi clears his throat loudly and you bite back a grin at the hint of annoyance you can detect in his voice, "i... thought i was picking you up from class today? i wasn't aware you hired a chauffeur!"
"oh, yoongi!" you spin around, feigning surprise as if you totally weren't expecting to see him at all, "oh, this is actually my friend- i know you've been busy so he offered to give me a ride!" you hum, stepping aside to let baekhyun step up onto the sidewalk, "baekhyun, this is yoongi-" you gesture to yoongi, "yoongi, this is baekhyun! ...my boyfriend."
you're hoping your accidental on-purpose flub-up triggers yoongi's memory of how he accidentally introduced lisa to you as his girlfriend and you're delighted to see the way yoongi's jaw drops slightly, "oh, my bad! i'm sorry, i don't know how that happened- what i meant to say was baekhyun, this is yoongi, my boyfriend. there we go."
"baekhyun..." yoongi repeats, his eyes narrowing slightly when baekhyun suddenly wraps an arm around your shoulder and gives you a squeeze "well, that's very nice of you to drive y/n all the way here. thanks for doing that, man."
"oh, it's no problem at all!" baekhyun hums, reaching over to pinch your cheek, "y/n's the sweetest and i didn't want to abandon her on campus-"
"okay, she wasn't abandoned, i was literally about to leave to pick her up-" yoongi points out, lifting his keys with a jingle before abruptly shoving them into his back pocket, "you know, y/n's never mentioned a baekhyun before. you two seem... close!"
"oh, baek and i go way back." you snort, digging your elbow into his side with a grin, "isn't that right, baek?"
yoongi pokes his tongue against the inside of his cheek at the fact that baekhyun still has his arm wrapped around your shoulder and you haven't made a move to shoVE it off
how can you not see that his intentions with you aren't just chummy??
he wouldn't have driven you all the way here if he didn't want to get his grubby hands under your skirt-
"we most certainly do! we made some great memories in that lecture hall- i have to say, i was, uh, pretty disappointed when i found out she was already in a relationship..." baekhyun sighs dramatically, shaking his head before looking back at you, "i would treat you right and never cancel dinner plans with you-"
"okay, i think it's time for you to go, bacon-" yoongi forces a smile on his face before reaching over to gently pull you towards him, "thank you for dropping my girlfriend off. have a good one."
"oh, no problem!" baekhyun points towards you, "hey, lemme know if you need a ride to campus on monday because i'd be happy to swing by your apartment and-"
"no, i can take her!" yoongi manoeuvres you so that you're standing behind him and basically blocked from baekhyun's sight, "i've got it from here, thanks."
"bye, baek!" you wave at baekhyun as gets into his car and he salutes at you before his right eye drops in a cheeky wink and it's at that point that yoongi really thinks he's about to lose it
what the hell was that?!
he spins around to face you as soon as baekhyun zooms off and you keep yourself from asking him why his ears have suddenly turned super red
"why are you wearing lowbuttons to class?" yoongi crosses his arms over his chest, "i thought you said you were going to use them as, like, apartment decoration."
"louboutins, yoongi." you correct, looking down at your slick stilettos, "and why can't i wear louboutins to class?"
"you wore them out to dinner one time and i ended up having to carry you back to the car because your feet were aching-" yoongi reminds you with a pointed tone, "are you telling me that you walked up and down and all around campus in those things?"
"maybe i did." you shrug, turning to stick your nose up in the air a little, "i can wear stilettos to class if i so please."
"and the miniskirt?"
"what, you don't like it?" you pout, reaching down to pick a piece of fluff off the surface, "it's new!"
it's a plain black skirt but it has a little slit on the side and you purposely bought this specific piece knowing that yoongi has expressed how much he likes you in black
"of course i like it, and obviously i'm a big fan of the heels but-" yoongi huffs, "all i'm saying is that it's a little odd- the timing is weird for your miniskirts and heels to make a sudden comeback now that you're all buddy-buddy with this backyawn-"
"that's what i said!"
"you know, i don't know what you're implying here but i haven't done anything wrong-" you shrug, "are you feeling okay? maybe you need to take a nap-"
"stop being stubborn, y/n. just tell me what's going on!"
"nothing's going on!" you insist, raising your hands in defense before flicking a strand of hair over your shoulder, "everything is perfectly fine and nothing is-"
"are you leaving me for baekhyun?" yoongi interrupts, his eyes suddenly softening, "because if this is how you're telling me we're over, it's a pretty shitty-"
"what- what?? no!" you shake your head quickly, "no, of course i'm not- why would you even- okay, fine! fine, i-" you let out a breath and your shoulders drop a little, "it's just that... i don't know, it kind of feels like i've been fighting to get your attention for the whole week and i... i feel like i shouldn't have to do that as your girlfriend, you know? and i'm not... i guess i just felt like i wasn't stacking up to lisa and how cool and smart she is and- this whole week it's just felt like you're in a relationship with lisa and not me, so i... wanted to make you jealous to see if you still cared. or whatever."
"are you serious?" yoongi's eyes flutter shut and he reaches up to pinch the bridge of his nose in frustration, "fuck, i'm sorry, ah- i'm sorry, y/n, i really am-" his brows knit together in remorse as he looks at you, "i think i just got swept up in all the new clients she was bringing in so i was focusing more on that than on noticing what was going on with you... i'm sorry. why didn't you just come and talk to me about it?"
"i didn't know how." you mutter, reaching up to scratch the side of your head, "i've never had to deal with something like this before, so... i know it was silly of me to come up with this whole thing-"
"you are my girlfriend, y/n." yoongi reminds you, his voice softening, "not lisa. it's you." he reaches over to hook a finger under your chin so he can get you to look at him, "i promise i only have eyes for you, pretty girl. you still love me?"
"god, yoongi-" you feel your cheeks flush at the nickname and you roll your eyes playfully before turning your head, "yeah. duh."
"oh, you silly thing..." he tuts, pulling you in for a hug and propping his chin up on the top of your head, "i'm sorry, baby. i really didn't mean to make you feel like that..." he pulls away and reaches down to glide his finger down the bridge of your nose before poking the tip, "i hope you can forgive me for being a shitty boyfriend."
"i'll forgive you if you forgive me for pretending to flirt with someone else." you smile sheepishly, yoongi grinning before nodding in agreement
"deal." he wraps an arm around your shoulder as the two of you head back towards the direction of the office, "so you really went through all that trouble just to make me a little jealous?" yoongi grins, "just for a little bit of attention? as if i'm not already all over you when we're alone-"
"well, it worked, didn't it?" you take your bottom lip in between your teeth as you squish your cheek against yoongi's shoulder and look up at him, "my acting skills are not half bad, if i do say so myself-"
"oh, shit, uh-" yoongi suddenly stops in his tracks when he sees lisa step out of the office and he spins around so that his back is facing her, "not to make you worry, but you should probably know that lisa's somehow convinced that i've been secretly flirting with her all week because i want to become friends with benefits again and she almost, like, body-slammed me in the office- also, if namjoon asks, tell him a raccoon snuck in and that's why his desk is a mess and his pens are all over the floor-"
"wait, what?!" your brows knit together and you're about to lean over to look at lisa but yoongi quickly reaches out and grabs onto your shoulders to keep you in place
"-yeah, so i'm going to lay you down on the hood of that car now because doing something extreme is probably the only thing that'll prove to her that she's wrong and i am very desperate to show her that she's wrong-"
"lay me down on the- and do what?! yoongi-!" you don't get much of a chance to say anything else before yoongi's suddenly bending down to pick you up off the ground in one swift movement, his fingers digging underneath your thighs as he lays you down on the hood of the nearest car, "yoongi-! you can't just-"
"shush!" yoongi hisses, pressing his lips against yours to shut you up promptly
it doesn't take you very long to melt into the kiss once you realize you haven't kissed yoongi like this in like a week and a half and you can't help but smile at the familiar faint taste of cherry you're getting from him
yoongi's warm hand slides down from your waist so he can hitch your left leg up against his hip, one of your heels slipping from your foot and clattering onto the floor
your senses are so clouded with yoongi cherry yoongi cherry that you nearly forget the two of you aren't alone (and also, all of this is definitely being recorded on the security cameras right now)
"hey, so- i- i'm gonna get going-" lisa announces loudly as she stands at a good distance away from the two of you, her eyes looking up towards the ceiling so that she doesn't have to watch the way yoongi's kissing down your neck, "i have to check out of my hotel, so-"
"yeah, sounds good!" yoongi pulls away for a second and shoots a quick thumbs up over his shoulder, "see you later, pal!"
"bye, lisa!" you chime in, giving her a wave even though she isn't looking at you and is really trying to double-time it to her car, "it was so nice meeting you!"
the two of you watch silently as lisa practically leaps into her mustang, the sound of the engine revving before she quickly speeds off like she just remembered she left the oven on at home
you turn your head to look up at yoongi before scoffing lightly, hooking a finger against his chain to pull him back down towards you, "you're ridiculous, you know that?"
"yeah, i know-" yoongi's nose crinkles before he offers you a boyish smirk and a half-hearted shrug, "you love it, though."
🎙️help me help you make your wishes come true (send me a request!)
✨why don’t you explore the rest of the library while you’re here? (full fics!)
💫or perhaps you want something shorter to read? (drabbles like this one!)
🌟or something even shorter? (teeny tidbits!)
Left Waiting at The Three Broomsticks (Fred Weasley x Read)
Pairing: Fred Weasley x Reader
Request: Hi! I was wondering if I could have a Fred Weasley imagine where he pisses off his gf somehow and so she gives him the silent treatment and only talks to literally everyone (including George) but him so he gets all jealous and pouty lol. Eventually he gets her to start talking to him again and then it’s all fluff etc. Hopefully this wasn’t a confusing request! Thank you!! :)
Warning: Tiny bit of sexual content towards the end, little bit of swearing, kinda angst at the beginning ?? and a lil towards the end ?? I think that's all, a lot of fluff scattered about
Word Count: 9.5k (I am so sorry I got carried away)
Two hours. Y/n had spent two hours waiting for him. Two stupid hours on a Saturday night that she could have spent elsewhere making something productive of her day but no. The last two hours Y/n had been seated in a small booth in the corner of The Three Broomsticks waiting patiently for her boyfriend, Fred Weasley.
The thing that infuriated her the most was that it was his idea in the first place! Originally, the couple had planned a stay-in date in her dorm room for the night before, Friday, but other plans came up. Fred got tangled up in a prank with George that had landed him in detention with Snape for the night. Yes, it annoyed her but what could she do? It wasn’t like Snape would excuse Fred because she tells him they have a date. If anything, Snape would hold him back longer.
When Fred and George were finally dismissed, it was nearly eleven at night and Fred was sprinting down through the dungeons to the common room. Their arrangement was for eight and he was praying to anyone listening above that she was still awake, but not furious at him.
Skipping up the transporting stairs, Fred basically shouted the secret password at the Fat Lady making her narrow her eyes at him. She swung open, not without muttering about how rude he was, and Fred jumped inside. Ten or so students were scattered around the common room, chatting amongst themselves. Hermione, Ron and Harry sat around the couch near the grand fireplace. They sent Fred a wave, which he frantically returned. The golden trio watched in curiosity as Fred darted up the stairs of the girl’s dormitory.
Hermione looked back to the group and asked,
“Wonder what that’s about- he seemed in a hurry.”
“Heard him and George got detention. They put stink-bombs in the Slytherin common room! Heard it stained some of the furniture maroon!” Ron chuckled at his brother’s antics then resumed his debate with Harry over their thoughts on the Quidditch World Cup happening every four years. Harry tried to explain the concept of the Olympics to Ron, but Ron was too focused on how amazing it would be for the World Cup to happen each year. Hermione went back to her studies, blocking out the mindless bickering of the boys.
Above the common room, Fred Weasley was scurrying to his girlfriend’s dorm room. He hoped Angelina and Alicia were out so he could be alone with her. Their time spent together had been oddly less than usual the last few weeks. Fred had no change of heart- actually, he found himself falling more in love with her every day, but their final year at Hogwarts was creeping up from the woods and he was working on a dream career behind the scenes with George that was eating up his time with her. He had shared this idea with her before- but it was just an idea then. Fred and George planned on putting their dreams to action once they finished up the next year. He wanted her to come- George did as well, but he didn’t want to mention it until it was a reality.
Reaching his destination Fred took a second to compose himself. A thin line of sweat was forming near his forehead. This was the first chance he had to take a breather since detention ended. Fixing his dark robes Fred knocked against the door, quiet enough not to startle her but loud enough to hear.
“Y/n… Y/n… love, are you awake? It’s Fred-“
Abruptly, the heavy wooden door cracked open and a weary looking girl poked her head out into the quietness.
“Darling, did I wake you up? I’m so sorry.” Fred stepped forward and wrapped the girl in a tight embrace. Y/n’s head fell against his chest out of instincts. His arms fastened around her waist as he invited himself in the room, slowly walking her back.
“Here, go back to bed, love. You look exhausted.” Fred led the sluggish girl to her familiar bed. Throwing back the covers, he readjusted her pillows so there would be room for him to fit as well. Fred then walked back to Y/n and took her hand softly. Kissing the back of her hand, Fred helped Y/n get into bed then slipped in beside her. His arms snaked around her body without thought. The naturalness of holding her in his arms made Fred feel confident in his dreams of starting a future with her. All the tension in his body collapsed when she leaned into his frame. Fred held her close and kissed the side of her cheek lovingly.
“I’m sorry about detention tonight but I promise I’ll take you out Saturday, alright? We can have a date at Hogsmeade and spend the night together, does that sound nice?”
The sleepy witch gave a tired mumble and nodded her head. She was cuddled under a stack of blankets, wearing Fred’s sweatshirt which made him smile. He’d usually crack a joke at this and tease her but, she was already asleep when he looked back to her. Fred couldn’t help but stare at her for a while. There was never a moment that went by where Fred didn’t think of Y/n as anything other than beautiful but in these moments, she looked ethereal.
Moonlight poured in from the open window and splashed across her s/c cheeks. Her hair was sprawled against the white pillowcase. Fred smiled at the sound of her light snores. Fred wouldn’t leave until he was sure she was deep asleep. It was their thing. She hated going to bed without him there.
“Okay, I love you, Y/n. Get some sleep, angel.” Fred whispered.
He pecked her forehead, then kissed her lips gently. Removing the covers, Fred tucked them back into Y/n so she could keep warm. He closed the open window then tip toed out of the room. Instead of rejoining his friends, Fred decided to head to his room. He felt too guilty for missing out on their plans to go have his own fun. Anyways he did have a Potions paper coming up and if he was going to spend the day with you Saturday, he surely wouldn’t be doing any homework.
So, the plan was confirmed the next morning, Friday. Y/n ran into Fred on her way to breakfast and they discussed where they’d meet and a time. They ate breakfast together, walked to class, then headed in different directions when six rolled around. Fred had a Quidditch match and she had a group project, so they didn’t cross paths for the rest of the night. Even though he refused to admit it, Fred absolutely hated when Y/n missed one of his games. His favorite thing to do was search for her in the stands during each game and it made him sad not to see her smiling face standing out in the crowd. Y/n entered the common room around midnight and went straight for her bed. Gryffindor had lost so there wasn’t a single housemate sitting in the common room. She could only imagine how upset Fred must be, she’d be hearing about it tomorrow. Y/n giggled to herself at the recollection of Fred’s angry rants about his teammates to you in private. She basically crawled to her bed, dreaming about the handsome, goofy, witty twin that had captured her heart.
Which would bring us to Saturday night. Fred and Y/n had made specific plans; they were to meet at The Three Broomsticks at seven then hangout for a while and spend the rest of their night sneaking around the castle with the help of The Marauder’s Map. Fred had practice at six so he was planning on meeting up with the girl at the pub. Y/n expected him to be running late- it wouldn’t be Fred if he didn’t show up a good twenty minutes late.
Only Fred never showed up at seven thirty, not at eight, and by the time nine neared, he was still nowhere in sight. The Three Broomsticks would stay open for a few more hours but the thought of sitting there alone for any longer, jumping at the sound of the door every time it opened, it made Y/n feel less than sane.
Throwing a handful of coins on the table, Y/n thanked her server then exited through the front doors. The walk back to the castle wasn’t long but being with Fred made it a lot more amusing. He’d pick her flowers, give her piggy back rides, play games, race, and hold her hand the whole walk back.
This time, Y/n walked alone hugging the material of her raincoat to her chest. A light drizzle had been pouring on and off for most of the day. Earlier, it was perfectly bearable- hardly noticeable. Although the weather had only worsened as the night grew darker. Hard rain drops crashed against Y/n coat, cascading down her covered arms and bouncing to the wet ground. Her black boots were soaked. She could feel the water rising to her socks, one of her biggest hatreds. Wet socks.
The hood of her jacket only helped so much before the pelting raindrops started to seep to her hair. Typically, Y/n loved the rain. If Fred was here, they’d be dancing right now. But he wasn’t, she had no clue where he was and that was exactly what Y/n was headed to find out.
By the time Y/n made it back to the castle and up to the Gryffindor common room, it was past ten.
Much as Y/n had expected, the common room was lively with energy and conversations. Katie, Alicia, and Angelina were all sitting in a circle with Fred, George, Lee Jordan, Seamus, and Dean. A dark bottle of Dragon Barrel brandy and Daisyroot Draught were being passed amongst them. Y/n watched as Fred leaned into his brother’s side, obviously tipsy and slurring his words while he practically shouted to their friends who were only sitting feet away.
His frame twitched with every small hiccup he let out. The whole group was smiling, they were happy. Y/n wondered to herself if Fred even noticed that she wasn’t there. She wondered if he liked it more when she wasn’t there, they were having fun and although the group was also her friends, no one was interested enough to invite her. Biting on the tender skin of her bottom lip, Y/n bundled her fist to her sides. The anger refused to simmer, only continued to boil. Her dripping clothes weren’t helpful to her sour mood.
It wasn’t the fault of her friends, no, but they were bound to get caught in the crossfires. Fred was the one who left her waiting for hours on end. Her chest was tight- livid yet sad all at once. It was an aggravating feel, unfamiliar. Y/n hated the suffocation entering her drying throat. More than anything she longed to handle situations like these in an aloof fashion. The last thing wanted was to wear her emotions on her sleeve, but she couldn’t help it. Her head screamed ‘just go to bed, ignore him’ but her heart wanted to scream at him and let him know just how bad he had hurt her. Her breathing quickened, each inhale received a choppy exhale.
For the first time, Y/n decided not to join her friends or to even say a word to Fred about how he stood her up. She was sick of it- completely exhausted and drained from his lack of care and presences in their relationship the last few weeks. If he wanted her as bad as he claimed, he’d find a way to show it. And leaving her sitting alone in a noisy pub while he partied and drank with their friends, showed her the exact opposite of his words.
Diverting her leer from the inebriated group and studied the rest of the room, hearing voices near the sitting area. Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Neville were all staring at Y/n in mixed judgement. Harry, Ron and Neville looked concerned by the appearance of Y/n. Hermione on the other hand, she was absolutely flabbergasted, Y/n could see the pity written on her face. You had mentioned having a date night with Fred in Hogsmeade to the four the night before. Harry had invited Y/n to hangout with them and visit Hagrid, but she politely declined and informed them about the special night Fred had planned for them.
Harry and Hermione stood up at the same time ready to comfort the teary-eyed girl. They motioned her over but just as she started towards them, Angelina Johnson noticed her friend who had been absent for most of the night. Setting the bottle of brandy down, Angelina wobbled up to her feet and smiled giddily,
“Y/n! Come- come drink with us! I was wondering where you- why… why’re you all wet?”
As the words fell from her mouth, a crowd of eyes planted on Y/n. Her fists clenched, bone white knuckles visible, at her sides. Angelina scurried over to her friend and wrapped her in a tender hug. If the scenario had been different, she’d gladly join in the fun but there wasn’t an ounce in her body that desired a drink.
Y/n’s eyes found their way to the boy she had been longing for all night. Her lips quivered, the anger and sadness reaching it’s overpour. He looked so handsome, so happy, but it meant nothing to her.
Pulling back, Angelina squinted in confusion at Y/n. The lack of embrace given back had thrown her off. The group had been awaiting her arrival, no one was quite sure where she’d gone off to. Angelina scanned Y/n’s reddening face, noticing the emotions bubbling under the surface.
Moving away, the dark-skinned girl turned to her friends. No one else seemed to notice the offset of Y/n’s attitude.
“Angel, where have you been? I missed you!” Fred’s face lit up like a Christmas tree. Quickly standing up, he held his hand out to his girlfriend. Y/n shot a dangerous look to his outreach, then up to his face. Usually she’d find his toothy grin and childlike state loveable but for obvious reasons, it made her irate.
Stepping back, Y/n sternly scowled at Fred,
“Missed me? You’re the one who left me waiting all goddamn night, Fred Weasley.”
A part of Y/n felt guilty for forcing her friends to witness their unpleasant exchange. George was now to his feet standing behind Fred, just as lost as the group he had been sitting with. Despite the alcohol running in his veins, George could sense an argument budding by the second.
“Not like any of you really seemed to care where I was.” Y/n kicked herself for this cold statement.
Her friends weren’t at fault- not in the slightest. But everyone was at risk of becoming a victim to her fiery wrath. In actuality, it did hurt her a little that no one had gone searching for her. It had been hours! Tears welled in her eyes as she took in the reactions of the group. George took his arm off Alicia and nudged his twin.
“What- I don’t know what you’re talking ‘bout, love. I think you should have a drink and loosen up-“
Y/n couldn’t take it. She just couldn’t take it anymore. Scrunching her face, she used every bit of strength to force her salty tears to hide at bay. Although her emotions screamed to be heard and saw right through her façade. Sweeping her hand across her cheek, Y/n caught the stray tears that rolled down her rosy cheeks. Huffing all her emotions out at once, Y/n shook Fred away from her and hurried towards her room.
Fred stood appearing dumbfounded. He could only gawk in perplexity. Blame it on the alcohol, but Fred’s mind was drawing a blank when surveying her words. For most of the night, he was the one thinking she was leaving him waiting. No one else had a clue as to where she’d gone off to, so he assumed she was in the library or wanted some space.
“You’re an idiot, Fred.” Hermione’s sharp voice cut through the thick air. The happiness and drunken laughter was extinct. The girl’s shared an exchange, all confused as to what just happened. The glass bottles didn’t help clear their judgement. Dean and Seamus took small sips from the Daisyroot Draught. The tension was unbearable, it felt wrong for their friends to be a part of it.
George set a hand on Fred’s shoulder, pulling him back slightly. Leaning forward, George whispered to his twin,
“I reckon it’s best if we turn it in for the night.” Fred gave a tug of protest. His intoxicated fought against him though he knew he did something wrong and needed to find Y/n. In spite of his desire to chase after the girl, George couldn’t let him do that. It was obvious Fred had forgotten something and Y/n was more than upset. Sending his brother up to drunkenly apologize to his hurting girlfriend for a reason he can’t even recall, that was a recipe for disaster and would only cause a bigger mess.
“Fred, you’re going to bed. You’re too drunk to talk to Y/n right now, okay? We’re going up the boy’s stairs, not the girls, okay? You two can talk in the morning, maybe you’ll remember where you fucked up tonight by then.”
Suddenly, Fred stop moving and let out a low groan,
“Oh shit… merlin’s sake, I fucked up, George. Oh my god- Hogsmeade… shit! I told her we’d meet at Hogsmeade and I forgot-“Fred whipped around in his discombobulated state. Everything clicked at once. Fred had been so concentrated on Quidditch that once practice had wrapped up, his exhausted body dragged him back to the common room out of muscle memory. It was his typical routine; Quidditch practice, head back to his dorm, shower, change, eat, work on some possible products with George, then hangout with his friends. How could he be so neglectful?
George sent his brother a comforting look then grabbed him by the shoulders, helping aid him up the winding staircase. It came as a shock to him that Fred had forgotten about their date. All he spoke about was Y/n, it was a rare occurrence for the couple to
“So that’s where she’s been all night?” George pushed open the door to their room, looking to his twin sternly. Fred had most of his weight piled on George, trying his hardest to remain upright. Lee had decided to stay back, allowing the brothers a chance to talk.
George helped his frantic twin in the dark room, then gave him a light push towards his bed. Fred plopped down, burying his face in the fluffy pillow. Pulling off his jumper, George threw the large maroon comforter over Fred’s tall frame while he wailed,
“I’m a terrible boyfriend. I planned the bloody date too! I left her-“
“How ‘bout you get some rest? You can find her in the morning and apologize to her and… hope for the best. It’ll give you more time to think of a way to make it up to her. You’re just a rambling mess right now.” The alcohol was not wearing George down. He had been on an adrenaline high since his second shot. This was the first moment of the night where he had stepped back. His tiresome hands rubbed against his face as he made his way to his bed and collapsed on it.
Fred was still moaning on, the sound of his drunken voice making it harder for George to fight back the urge to sleep,
“She’s gonna dump my sorry ass-“
“Go to bed, Fred. It’ll be okay.”
George let out a sigh of exhaustion. The twins had been best friends with Y/n since they were just children, new to Hogwarts and unfamiliar with the power of magic. It pained him to see his brother hurt, but it also hurt to see Y/n upset. He was stuck between a rock and a hard place.
Turning his head, George let out a breathy chuckle at the sight of his twin passed out cold. The worry that dripped from his voice was now gone as he eased into his dreamland.
George wanted to scold him, knock him upside the head for skipping out on Y/n again. He cared a lot about her, she was basically a sister, a triplet to him. If Fred was gonna win her back, it wasn’t going to be easy, George knew this. Y/n was stubborn, and the twins had witnessed this first hand for years, it was a trait they loved, when not directed towards either of them.
As George’s head hit the pillow, all he could do was pray to Godrick that the morning would bring good news.
Sunday morning arrived much faster than Y/n had hoped. A bright, loud, light interrupted her sleep as the gears in her head started to turn. Her mind was groggy, the events of last night were foggy. Warm sunlight broke through the glass stained windows. Y/n wiped her eyes and slowly sat up. Her mouth was dry, screaming for a drink of water.
For a minute, she felt calm- happy almost. The room was half empty; Angelina’s bed was bare and Alicia laid in a star-fish position, a snore sounding from her mouth. The image made Y/n laugh.
Standing up, Y/n’s hands flew above her head as she stretched. She cracked her back, a morning ritual for the girl. Just as she reached for the knob of her dresser, a wave of recollection nearly knocked her off her feet.
Fred had stood her up, of course, how could she forget? The irritated skin under her eyes and nose suddenly made sense. Leaning against the wooden cabinet, Y/n huffed. It was times like these she wished she could crawl into bed and stay there for eternity. Nothing would get better though if she didn’t at least try to fix it.
As quick as the thought came, it had evaporated once more. Why did she have to be the one to put forth the effort to fix things? There was no use in fixing their relationship if Fred wasn’t willing to try too. More than try, Y/n thought. It took a piece of her when she came back to the castle just to see him drinking with their friends, not thinking a thought of her. She needed to see that he cared. His words held no value to her anymore, not until he could prove he meant what he said.
Y/n went through her morning routine like a snail, wanting to drag out her time. Eventually, she was fully dressed and ready for the day. She liked to take advantage of the days her school robes weren’t required. The cooling weather led her to a fuzzy black sweater, and light washed jeans. Sliding her delicate wand into her back pocket, Y/n exited the room and took the stairs down to the common room.
Approaching the bottom of the steps, Y/n could hear familiar voices exchanging hush words. She stepped into the room and was surprised to see the lack of students. The only ones present were sat one the long leather couch on the left half of the massive room. All of their gazes fell on Y/n.
Fred, George, Ron, Angelina, Harry and Hermione were all relaxing- well all of them except Fred. He on the other hand was frantic- disheveled. His knee bounced in anticipation. The clock was sneaking
“Oh, uh, hey Y/n!” Ron Weasley moved his hand side to side, waving to Y/n. The temptation to admire the handsome boy at his side leaped into her heart. Using every ounce of strength, Y/n trained her eyes on Ron, not allowing a single peek at Fred.
“Hey, Y/n/n!” The voice of Angelina brought a perk to Y/n’s head.
“Hi.” She greeted the younger Weasley and her close friend back, then headed for the portrait. Before she could make it half the distance, the tall figure of her boyfriend appeared.
“Angel, how did you sleep?” Fred was by her side in an instant. He was desperately trying to read her expression, testing the waters to see her mood. He had hardly slept, he spent most of the night thinking about this exact moment, when he’d have the chance to apologize and make it up to the girl he loved. “Can we please talk? I’m really sorry for last night, honestly, I am so so sorry, darling.”
Y/n stared at him, or rather, through him. It was like she didn’t see the tall wizard in front of her.
“I’m gonna go study, I’ll meet you with you guys later.”
“Y/n, love-“ His warm hand took hold of her of her own, an action she’d typically love. The familiar grasp sent a burst of comfort in her stomach, but she ignored it.
Wiggling out of his grip, the girl shot him a look of displeasure then rushed off. Hermione chased after her, no one else brave enough to step in. Besides, Hermione was one of her closest friends. Watching the younger girl follow after her roommate, Angelina walked after them. Fred stomped like a toddler having a tantrum as the portrait swung open then closed. He knew he had to do something- anything to get her to talk to him again, and that was his plan.
For a Sunday evening, the school library was relatively empty. A majority of the students occupying the tables were studying away for their O.W.L.S. The exams weren’t for another two months but hardly anyone dared to procrastinate until the last week before opening their books. The stress of the exams was enormous, but the students still had other classes to keep in mind.
Y/n Y/n/l and George Weasley were sitting across from on another at a study table. Three hefty textbooks were open as the two discussed their Potions paper. Y/n had been stuck on hers and George had yet to start so they decided to head to the library together and get it done.
Fred was usually right by their side, his hand wrapped around Y/n’s shoulders, but she neglected an invite for him. About an hour after their exchange in the common room, Y/n had apologized to each friend she had snapped on the night prior. They were understanding, clearly seeing where her frustrations had come for. They also felt bad as she was right, no one had even checked to see where she’d gone, and George especially felt terrible for not searching for his friend.
At least three hours had passed since the two Gryffindors started their study session. Y/n was sneaking up on her last two pages while George still had three left. They collaborated every few minutes, then returned to tranquil silence, scribbling away.
Y/n was in the middle of sharing her idea for the last section of her paper when George’s eyes brighten and he interrupted her,
“Fred, how nice of you to join us.”
Turning in her chair, Y/n found her boyfriend standing behind her with a nervous smile. She hated how perfect he looked, even in the poor lighting of the library. He still managed to make her breath hitch in the back of her throat.
“Hi, Y/n. You look beautiful as always.” Fred announced himself softly. George scoffed teasingly, muttering a ‘hello’ to himself to make up for his brother ignoring him. Freds words were genuine though didn’t make much of a difference. Y/n was still hurt and a compliment wasn’t going to mend that. She needed to feel it, to see him truly show that he cared- that she meant something to him. That she was deserving of his time. Sweet comments didn’t not add up to that feeling.
George closed his textbook, then glanced up at his twin,
“Should I leave?”
Before Fred could answer, Y/n slammed her hand on top of George’s Potions book. Wide eyed and frightened, the boy gaped in shock. Even Fred was taken aback by her unexpecting movement. Leering at her friend Y/n replied,
“No. I want you to stay, we were in the middle of a conversation.”
Fred’s heart dropped at her words. It was heartbreaking to have the girl of his dreams now shunning him- brushing him off with ease. It was driving him mad. All he wanted was for her to acknowledge him, give him a little hope that he can earn his way back in her heart. He loved her, every bit of him loved her.
All he wanted was to make it up to her for his mistakes the night before. He couldn’t stop thinking about the look on her face when she saw him sitting with their friends. She was miles exceeded hurt- more devastated at his negligence than hurt alone.
Maybe it was the fear of meeting the reality that losing Y/n was a possibility, but Fred experienced a new sort of emotion when his girlfriend asked for his brother to stay. Yes, they’re friends, all three of them are. Fred had to remind himself of this like a record on repeat. He couldn’t fight the envy off though.
It made his heart twist as she stared at George. Never did he think he’d be jealous of his own twin, but Fred was livid. The seething stream of covetousness overtook his veins. Fred wanted to be the one you ran to for comfort, not his brother. His entire life he had shared everything with George, Y/n was far too meaningful to Fred for her to be shared.
Now it does take two for a turn of events like that to happen. Fred knew, clear as day, that George had no romantic feelings for Y/n and she had none for George. This was true, but for some reason, it didn’t help tame Fred’s envy.
He knew causing a jealous scene would do no good for anyone, so Fred realigned his train of thought and asked,
“Could I steal you from that conversation, please love? I really need to apologize to you.”
Fred allowed his hands to reveal themselves from their previous position hiding behind his back. When he moved them, a full bouquet of colorful flowers and small green plants of different shapes and sizes. The flowers were a display of fuchsia, pink, orange, red, and yellow. They were beautiful, so beautiful, Y/n thought to herself. She couldn’t help the gasp that slipped past her lips.
Fred had gotten her flowers their first-year dating but since the last month or so, she hadn’t received many of his heartwarming gifts. It wasn’t the monocle value of a present but the thought and attention to care that captured Y/n’s heart. Fred had always been the best at creating meaningful gifts on a tight budget. Whether it was flowers he stole from school grounds, or necklaces he made out of stones she found around the Great Lake. He’d make her perfume- proving rather excellent in the Potions department. He also asked Molly to teach him how to knit in order to make Y/n a sweater. This of course delighted Molly over the moon.
George bit on the skin of his knuckles to keep for laughing at his brother. He recognized the flowers, as did Y/n. Fred had picked them from the garden outside the castle- something that had earned him a detention before. George decided not to comment on his observation, Fred was sure to murder him in his sleep if he put his apology in any jeopardy.
Fred extended the bouquet to his flustered girlfriend. He felt a sense of accomplishment while watching her reaction. It was small to most, but for as stubborn as she was, it was big in his eyes. The girl reached forward, accepting the gift with a tiny smile rising to her lips, one she didn’t force down.
For the first time since the night before, Y/n fully saw Fred. She peered directly at him silently. George glanced between the two, stuck between a dual. Without speaking, Fred took some steps forward and pulled the chair next to Y/n out. He slipped into the seat, the couple still staring at each other. Y/n studied his demeanor, he didn’t push her anymore, but he wouldn’t leave her side. Not that she would tell him but, she was happy he joined in. She didn’t want him to leave, she had missed being around him. Tearing herself away, Y/n focused herself back on the other twin.
“As I was saying, George…”
Fred drowned out the words but accepted the fact that Y/n didn’t reject him from sitting down. She also didn’t set the flowers down for the rest of their study session. The remained clutched in her hands, resting in her lap the whole time.
Monday night came in the blink of an eye. Classes had resumed and the castle was bustling in stress. When the end of the year neared, the time spent sitting through lectures was an eternity, while the weekends flew by. Fred had always hated summer break, actually, that’s not entirely true. His dismissive of break budded around the same time his relationship with Y/n became official.
Their first two years, she would spend the holiday back home in London with her family. She loved her family but once she experienced her first holiday at the Burrow, she never wanted to miss another. Her family was a bit distant, not the warm and welcoming pure-bloods like the Weasley’s, but not as cold as the Malfoy’s. Y/n’s family had no issues with her spending breaks at the Burrow, as long as she had Molly and Arthur Weasley’s approval. Molly insisted each time that there was no need for her to even ask to stay. They accepted her with open arms, ecstatic to see Fred had found such a lovely girl.
The end of the school term was coming up and Fred needed to fix things with Y/n before that happened. She planned to spend the break at his family’s home and he feared she’d take her agreement back if things weren’t improved between them. Spending almost two days stuck in the anger of his love was two days too many. Fred was going to fix this and he planned the best idea he could think of, good thing he had their friends happily available to help.
Unbeknownst to Y/n, while she was resting up from her illness Harry, Ron, Lee and George were helping Fred create his masterplan. Hermione helped in her own way by remaining near Y/n’s dorm, sitting in as the lookout. It gave her an excuse to get her school work done so she didn’t protest.
Alicia and Angelina stayed in the room. Once Y/n started to feel better, thanks to Madam Pomfrey, the girl’s altered Hermione who passed the news along to Harry as the chain continued until it reached Fred. At the confirmation, his plan was set into action. Ron was sent to retrieve the girl after Alicia and Angelina convinced her to get some food from the dining hall.
She walked through the common room then down the moving staircase, when her redheaded friend popped up. Ron scared the girl, making her stumble back, her hand placed over her chest.
“Y/n! I’m so glad I ran into you! No one has seen you all day- Angelina said you were feeling ill this morning.” Ron rambled at a fast pace. Y/n, still surprised by his sudden arrival, took a deep inhale, nodding to the boy,
“Yeah, I saw Madam Pomfrey this morning when classes started. I just had a stomach bug and she said I’d have to wait it out but the medicine she gave me seems to be doing the trick.” Y/n gave Ron a kind smile. Ron was two years younger than her but they had always been great friends. Y/n would travel to the Burrow as a guest of the twins during the holiday breaks, so Ron and her had spent a lot of time hanging out together. It was sweet of him to ask how she was doing, but he didn’t seem that her health was the reason for their conversation.
“That’s good to hear. You wouldn’t happen to be heading anywhere, are you?”
“Just to get some food. I’m starving-“ Ron nodded eagerly, cutting his friend off in the process.
“That’s great! I mean, not great, just… well… uh, follow me please!” Scrambling like a mess, Ron clasped his hand over Y/n’s wrist and abruptly dragged her down the stone corridor. She couldn’t find the words to question him and allowed Ron to lead the way. Her curiosity was far too big to ignore his odd request.
Ron carried on for another five minutes then took a sharp turn, heading for the courtyard. Two figures ran off around the side of the castle in the darkness. Y/n swore she recognized the pair as George and Lee. What were they up to? Snapping her head to the younger boy, Y/n waited for him to fill her in on why he had dragged her halfway across the castle to the freezing courtyard.
“Okay! We’re here- I’m just gonna… head out. See ya, Y/n!” Ron rushed his farewell then ran off towards the direction George and Lee had escaped to. What in the world is going on? Left by herself without any explanation, Y/n threw her hand up in annoyance.
Alone in the cold, Y/n wrapped the opening of her fuzzy cardigan against her body, attempting to keep warm. Although warmth entered her vein as a pair of arms snaked around her waist, snatching her backwards into a firm surface. She gasped, thrown off by her attacker and tried to turn in retaliation, but their grasp was far too firm. The familiarity of the hold made her body ease up. As much time as the spent together, she could recognize his touch anywhere. Fred.
His touch released a swarm of butterflies through the girl. She could feel the anger washing away as she leaned her body into his chest, having pined for his arms for two too many days than she was accustomed to.
The tall Gryffindor held her tightly. Moving forward, Fred pressed his lips against the shell of Y/n’s ear. The heat of his breath causing her to shudder as he whispered,
“I’m so happy you came, darling.”
Y/n smirked, looking up at him. The concurrent willfulness of her nature could only carry on for so long until her headstrong demeanor crumbled. A pang of chagrin still grumbled in her stomach but the sight in front of her certainly was a runner in her change of heart.
Soaking in her surroundings, Y/n realized they were just a few hundred feet outside Hargid’s hut. This explained the garden full of massive orange pumpkins. In the middle of the path was a small gazebo decorated in fairy lights and sunflowers. A small table set for two was tucked inside. Small teacup white candles line the path, creating a runway of sorts. Another candle, larger and purple, sat flickering in the breeze in the center of the neat table.
Y/n stood motionless absorbing the creation her boyfriend made- all for her. Speechlessness was not common for Y/n so Fred undoubtably began to second guess if his efforts were good enough. His fears were stomped in a matter of moments when Y/n harshly yanked at the material of his collar and placed a brisk, short kiss to his lips. Fred was startled, losing the opportunity to kiss her back but Y/n didn’t want him to. It gave her a sense of control- they still had issues they needed to work out, but she loved him nonetheless. Besides, avoiding and staying mad at Fred forever? Impossible. In two days, Y/n had to stop herself a million different times from approaching Fred and sharing a laugh with him, or kissing him, or holding his hand and giving him a hug. She didn’t want to fight off the urge anymore- and Fred couldn’t handle the distance spaced between them. Thus, being the motivation for his grand, heartfelt, date.
“I’ll assume that means you like it. I won’t take all the credit- it was my idea, but our friends are the main reason I was able to pull this off. I feel really bad and… I need to do something special for you- I don’t do that enough lately. I forget sometimes to remind you how important you are in my life and how much I love you.” Fred sheepishly smiled, nervously awaiting her reaction.
The small table was set, a new bundle of crimson red roses placed on her seat. To the side of her plate was a small box with a beautifully wrapped ribbon tied to the top. Fred had a special way of showing his love and adoration for his girlfriend, but even this was new to her. Never before had he gone so over the top to prove his feelings to her.
Y/n lifted her hand and intertwined it with Fred’s, smiling up at him,
“It’s gorgeous, Freddie.” The bashful smile made Fred’s heart melt on sight. He had prepared himself for the repetitive rejection she had been sending, so when she whispered those sweet words, his chest tightened, and his pace stopped.
Fred almost fainted in shock at the sound of her voice. He squeezed her light hand and drew it back, forcing her body into his own. Y/n couldn’t help the laugh that fell from her lips. She missed his playful ways. With the foreheads pressed against each other, Fred grinned,
“I’ve missed your voice, love.”
Although his words made her heart take flight, the reality of her hurt was still roaming. Y/n detached herself from his grasp and rested her hand on the black metal table. Her fingertips fumbled with the white cloth, it served as a distraction only for a short period of time. Fred sent her a sorrowful look. Her shift in moods was confusing to him, he only wanted to make things better.
Y/n sighed and ran her hand through her h/c locks. Closing her eyes, she inhaled deeply then asked,
“Why don’t you have time for me anymore, Fred?” The question of the night- or rather month. His date was beautiful, absolutely stunning. As riveting as it was, it couldn’t erase the hurt she had been experiencing.
Fred shook his head frantically, dismissing the accusation. He knew why she would think that way, he understood. It wasn’t true, though. Actions speak louder than words and Fred despised the fact that recently, his feelings for Y/n weren’t lining up with his actions. His words could only do so much. But he also knew soon, things would be different. Missing the Hogsmeade date was his fault, and he paid for it. Two days might seem minute to most, but when you spend essentially everyday attached to someone’s hip, two days of them purposely ignoring you and speaking to every soul expect you, it can feel like a lifetime. He realized a few things in this time.
Fred remembered how fun it was to act as if he was still trying to win her over. Gifts, no matter their cost, always brought a gleam to her face which never failed to make Fred grin. However, it was much more entertaining when she wasn’t upset with him and would throw the flirtatious comments right back at him. He was also reminded of how lucky he was to be with Y/n. While she ignored him, Fred found himself envious of every living being Y/n spoke to, as they were not him. When he started engulfing himself in his plans for the joke shop, his effort in his relationship had decreased and this was something he vowed to never let happen again.
“I’ll always have time for you, darling. And if I don’t, I’ll make some. I truly am sorry about this weekend- you don’t deserve that.”
“It just seems like you’re distracted, like you don’t care anymore.” Y/n batted her reddening eyes, finally throwing her worries to the air.
“No, no, Y/n, not at all. I’m so sorry I made you feel that way, love. I’m a terrible excuse of a boyfriend, I never meant to create this mess. I love you so much.” Fred’s head bowed down. It tore him up to know the way his actions made her feel, the only girl he loved.
“I love you too, Freddie. I really do but I can’t feel alone in this relationship. I let our date Friday slide, even though I was annoyed, but Saturday night? I feel like it broke me. Just knowing you forgot about me-“ Y/n fought back the burning sensation in her eyes as the tears began to brim.
The anxiety blooming inside her was clear to Fred. Suppose that was the downside to dating your best friend, they can always tell when somethings wrong. Before a tear could hit the floor, he whisked her to the iron garden chair, then kneels before her, his hands holding her face as if it was a priceless, dainty piece of china.
“I didn’t forget about you, darling, that’s impossible to do. I’ve been… well I’ve been working on something with George for when we leave school next year. It’s real important to me and I wanted to share it with you but I was scared that it might not happen but… if I have your support and you with us, I know it’ll happen.”
“What’re you rambling on about, Fred?”
“Remember how I told you that George and I wanted to open a joke shop? Well, it’s happening… I think. We’re really close, we just gotta make it through next year then we’re free! We’ll have our own joke shop and get to sell our own products and start our future.”
A silence overtook the atmosphere. Y/n’s lips were stuck open in a small ‘o’ shape, eyes glued to the floor. Was he really going to leave her all alone next year? Would they have to break up? Surely, he wouldn’t want to be in a long-distance relationship.
She was snapped from her own mind when her skin registered the touch of Fred’s lips as they traced her knuckles, kissing each finger as he did. His eyes then peered up to meet her own. She could tell he was serious by the feeling of his stare. Then he continued, making Y/n perk up,
“But none of that can happen without you… Y/n I want you to come with me. Move in with George and I, start a future with me. We want you to be a part of the shop. I want you there. You’re the only girl I want, for the rest of my life.”
Her once open mouth clamped shut in a swift motion. Ever since she met the twins, Y/n wanted a future with Fred. Everyone saw it as a childhood crush, but she always knew it was more. She never stopped loving him- never could. Even when his pranks took a step too far over the line. They always found their way back to each other and would work through it. Fights such as the most recent were rare- but Fred’s admission filled in a lot of empty spaces that had left Y/n sleepless for days. Finally, the crushing weight was lifted from her chest as she choked out a shaky breath.
Leaping forward from the chair, Y/n threw her body into her boyfriend’s body and clamped him in a koloa like hold. Fred chuckled in amusement, falling onto the near ground at her jump.
“Why do you have to be so lovable? I hate it. I should be angry with you, but I just love you too much. Besides, I think you did enough suffering.” She giggled as she pinched his round cheeks in her hands. Fred poked his tongue out at her and grabbed at her sides. Y/n swatted his hands away, giving him a stern glare saying, ‘don’t push it’.
Slowly, she leaned down and brushed her lips against Fred’s, smirking down at him. It was a change in roles. In their more adult situations, Fred was typically the one on top with Y/n pinned below him, but that’s a story for another time.
A small, almost whimper, sound came from Fred. He hated being teased- that was his job. Dragging out the moment, Y/n tugged on the skin of his bottom lip with her teeth, earning a groan of approval from Fred. She grazed over his mouth one last time before dipping her head down to meet his and interlocking their lips, still straddling his waist. Fred’s hips pushed towards her core out of instinct. Not ready to give in quite yet, Y/n lifted her body and shifted forward, entrapping Fred even more so in the heated kiss.
They parted for seconds to sneak a bit of air, then continued their needed make out. It had been a while since they proved their love to each other in this way. For the last month, it had been small kisses here and there when the couple had a chance to see each other. Y/n needed his touch- she needed him. Fred longed to have under him, pleasuring her. He desperately wanted to sink his head between her legs and really show her just how much he loved her.
The coldness of his fingertips hit Y/n’s skin as his fingers dug into the sides of her waist. As much as she longed to keep the exchange going, the last thing either of them needed was a detention.
Y/n plucked herself away, a small pout lining Fred’s lips. His hands remained tied up in her own, lying them on his stomach. The weight of his question seeped in like molasses. Opportunities like this presented themselves once in a lifetime, there was no way Y/n was going to let it slip by.
Rolling off his lap, Y/n plopped down on the ground to the side of Fred. Their heads turned simultaneously towards each other, Fred winking to Y/n.
This is what she wanted. To see him care for her, show his love. His attention. It was the one thing she had been striving for but now that the cat, or rather joke shop, was out of the bag, Fred didn’t feel the need to hide anything from her anymore and keep his work to himself. He was over the moon with excitement to have her join George and himself. It was everything he could hope for.
Coyly averting her peer, Y/n asked,
“Do you really mean it, Fred? You really want me to come with you and George?”
Kindly, Fred swiped his thumb under her chin and raised her head up so their eyes were level.
“I wouldn’t want you anywhere else in the world then with me.” The serenity in his voice didn’t go unnoticed. Y/n propped herself up to her elbows and brought Fred in a bone crushing hug. Heavy chuckles croaked from Fred as she smothered him lovingly. He managed to sneak in a tiny peck to her check and she hugged him. Placing her head on his shoulder, Y/n poked the side of Fred’s cheek, commenting,
“You’re gonna be stuck with me forever, Fred, I love it!”
Throwing his arm around the elated girl, Fred just smirked.
“Duh, that’s kind the whole point of you moving in with me.” He replied in a matter-of-fact tone. The night was growing darker and the steady wind was escalating. In an hour, two if they were lucky, Filch would be surveying the grounds in search of students, mainly Fred and George, out past curfew. It was a sport to him, catching students breaking rules and getting to turn them in. It was part of his job, yes, but Y/n hated that he never took it easy on anything for the Gryffindors like he did the Slytherins. Fred looked at the scenery around them and remarked,
“Y’know, angel, as much as I’d love to spend the rest of the night laying with you in my arms, we can do that in my dorm room tonight… in an actual bed instead of dirt. I mean, we didn’t set up this whole thing for nothing! If I knew laying in the dirt would win you back, you should’ve told me!” His sarcastic words were received with a light slap.
“Smart ass.” Y/n rolled her eyes teasingly and started to sit up. Before she could get to her feet, a pair of hands planted themselves at her waist and lifted her. Fred had his moments, but he was always a gentleman to her. His teasing ways were comforting to Y/n, reminding her that they were good now, in comparison to the recent downfalls.
Fred helped Y/n to her seat, then jogged over to his own. He presented the girl with a cake he made for her. Hermione brought him to the kitchens and taught him how to make one. It took about three hours, he burnt the first, put too many eggs in the second, then forgot to add eggs to the third. Finally, on the fourth attempt, Fred created a passable cake. Hermione had no desire to spend any more time in the kitchen, so she quickly frosted it for him, not wanting him to ruin it this far in, then covered it and locked it in the fridge. Much to Y/n’s surprise, it was one of the best homemade cakes she’d ever had. Her teeth were practically chattering from the intense amount of sugar, but she had to keep in mind it was Fred who baked it.
After eating, Fred and Y/n took their sweet time strolling around the castle. Fred swung his hand back and forth, causing the same effect to Y/n’s. They laughed feverishly as Fred chased Y/n up the moving stairs as they raced to the common room. When they entered the room, they sprinted straight for Fred’s, still in a chase. Hermione, Ron, Harry, George, Angelina, and Lee all watched in amusement as the couple seemed to be reunited.
“Wonder if they’re back together. You guys think the date worked?”
Everyone shared glances at the obliviousness of Ron. There were times when social cues and context clues just didn’t exist to Ron. George scoffed at his little brother and shook his head. The rest of the group roared with laughter as Ron’s face scrunched in irritation.
“Not sure, Ron. Why don’t you go out to our room and ask them?” George smirked mischievously causing Ron to turn white as a ghost in realization. A faint ‘oh’, tumbled out of his lips and his eyes went wide.
Despite their assumption, up in the top room in the Gryffindor boy’s dormitory, Fred Weasley laid snoring in his large mattress, still in his school robes. Squished against his chest by his arms, Y/n was sound asleep, similarly dressed. The two didn’t care what they looked like or who came in, as long as they were together, that’s all that mattered.
I fully understand where everyone is coming from, but I like to address a few things.
One: Some people stated that Karl Heisenberg is named after a German Scientist who worked with the Nazis. False. The scientist name was Werner Heisenberg. On top of that, you can't call everyone German a Nazi because many German citizens were hiding Jewish people in their homes. Many did NOT support the Nazi movement, and they were HEAVILY against it. In addition, some scientists were forced to work with the Nazis because their life was on the line. That's also why Albert Einstein moved to the US before the Nazi invasion. Upon doing a little more research, there are some accounts that he did make the atomic bomb, but he hid that information from the Nazis. A HAND FULL of people worked on the project, but J. Robert Oppenheimer is known as the "father of the atomic bomb."
Two: The village is located in the Eastern European mountain range. The range extends through the following countries: Romania, Ukraine, Poland, Hungary, Czech Republic, Slovakia, and Serbia. If you were to look up those countries, they were taken over by the Nazis. So I can understand the idea of Nazi soldiers passing through and trying to take over. However, when Miranda took Karl, he was a child. My guess is between 9 to 12 years old because of how much he can remember from the experiments and his long-term resentment towards Miranda.
Three: Really? Just because his last name is Heisenberg, automatically everyone is assuming he has to be a Nazi. This goes back to my first point, don't assume everyone is a Nazi. If that's the case, why can't you think the same about Albert Einstein? Einstein is a German last name. You can look up the origin of the last name, and yes, it is a common last name in Germany. But two theories come into play. One: he has a German background from his father's side. Two, if you were to look up the last name, some surrounding countries have traces of the Heisenberg name.
Four: So the dog tags. I understand we're used to the American style, two square with rounded edge dog tags, but every country has its unique OWN design. These dog tags range from squares, circles, ovals, rectangles, etc. The thing is, Germany and Romania have SIMILIAR shapes. So this is where my theory comes in, Karl comes back home to find out that someone he idolized as a child is no longer there, which is why he resents Miranda. Maybe a brother, uncle, or even his father. The only thing that he has is those dog tags. So he wears them to remember that person. If you want to get technical, men are required to go to war during that time. So SOMEONE in his family was a soldier.
Five: I'm going to drift away from Karl for a bit, but this will line up. Miranda lost her daughter during the Spanish Flu, which happened between February 1918 to April 1920. World War 1 was from July 28, 1914 – November 11, 1918. Eva passed away in August 1919 when the Spanish Flu passed through the village. She didn't start experimenting on the other FOUR HOUSES until after returning to the village. But much later on down the road. Initially, she was going to commit suicide to be reunited with her daughter but discovered a fungal super-organism: the Fungus Root, also known as the Megamycete, which infected her. All this information is in her diary.
Six: If you were to read Karl's diary, he uses the word 'shmucks,' a Yiddish word. In other words, it's Jewish slang to describe someone stupid or foolish. Going back, I feel like his mother could've been Jewish, and his father could've been German, and they left Germany before the invasion.
In conclusion, this was fun to type up because I love history, but this is a video game. I don't understand why people can't separate the two. Yes, Capcom loves to integrate real history in their Resident Evil games to have the story flow. But I don't believe they will purposely make a character into a Nazi without an explanation. The thing is, Karl Heisenberg is based on two classic horror characters, The Wolfman and Doctor Victor Frankenstein. I might add more to this, but I feel pretty content with what I wrote.
Hi!! I again u.u I hope it's okay I sprout again but I wanted to ask for a reaction from Philza, Techno, Sam, Jschlatt and Wilbur seeing the reader having to deal with a person from the toxic past who was the reason for the reader (god) lose memories (I would even quote from the boys: Tommy, Tubbo, Ranboo and fundy. but I think it would be too long so pretend that the boys were busy :v)
(I wouldn't show up anytime soon because I don't want to be a nuisance but I'm having a really bad time at home so I'm really looking forward to hearing from someone that it's not my fault for something)
aww, I hope you feel better soon! You can always message me directly if you need to rant/talk! You’re not a nuisance, at all
Pt1 for reference
Warnings: mentions of panic attacks, blood and cursing
. . .
It has been a couple months since you met the actual parents, and father figures, of the boys. They continued to live with you, the older men stopping by to check in or help frequently. You appreciate the help and the opportunity to live with your unofficially adopted sons longer. Although, you haven’t found out how or why you lost your memories, you are still quite content without them. Making new memories with the family you’ve found becoming more important.
Philza and Technoblade offer to try and help you regain your memories, the bird hybrid knowing more than he lets on. You don’t mind their attempts, feeling quite sheepish when the attempts turn out as failures. You are working on the garden peacefully, the forest sparkling with life. The boys aren’t home today, all going on some adventure together a few days ago. Ranboo found a map for a woodland mansion, so naturally the others wanted to tag along. You expressed your worries, telling them to stay safe while handing off some supplies for the journey.
Surprisingly, the fathers and father figures showed up at your door a day later. You assume the boys must have said something to them, since they don’t normally visit together. The house is a little packed, having so many people staying with you but you are managing. They decided to stop by to help and spend some time together. Philza, Schlatt and Techno were still inside, not being fans of the heat. Sam and Wilbur are outside with you, helping around the garden.
You are kneeling on the ground, dirt and mud stuck to your clothes. A basket of freshly picked vegetables lies next to you, sinking into the ground. Your hands and forearms are covered in dirt while you push aside the wet soil to plant new seeds. The harvest looks great this year, you beam proudly. Nothing really runs through your mind besides the idea of what you could make with all the fresh produce.
A pair of boots crunch loudly on leaves near your figure, stepping haphazardly on whatever lies in its path. Assuming that it must be Sam, you don’t look up merely scolding the man for not being mindful of his walking. He doesn’t respond back, staying oddly silent. You freeze, feeling a chill from the wind push up against your skin warily. The forest is quiet. A white feather falls in front of your face, gracefully landing on the ground below.
Slowly, you raise your head to look at the intruder, shivering at the sight. A man stands before you, his wear elegant and bright. A blueish-green cloak lays on his shoulders, held together by long strands of silk fabric. He hides his face behind a porcelain white mask, with two large symbols etched into the front. A gasp escapes your throat at his hybrid features. Four long wings hang off his back, spread out dramatically.
“So, this is where you’ve been hiding.” He scoffs, taking in view of the dirt on your body. You stand up abruptly, backing away slightly from the being. A bad feeling fills your stomach at the man’s appearance. Even though you don’t recognize him, you sense that he isn’t a good person. He chuckles at your frantic movements, inching closer to follow your step back.
“I know you like humans, but to lower yourself to this? That is just disgusting.” His words drip with malice, the feathers on his wings puffing up.
“I don’t understand. Who are you?” You try to hold your voice strong, but it wavers slightly. He laughs loudly, his body shaking with the action. Although, he mellows up quickly when he realizes that you are being genuine.
“You don’t remember me?” He is hushed and with fast steps he is by your side. His frame looms over you, his height abnormally large. Hands scatter across your body, tugging at your limbs messily. “You are a human now.” He tilts his head, shaking it rapidly in confusion. He is quiet, his head facing the ground. You debate calling for Sam or Wilbur but hold your tongue afraid of this man’s attitude to that.
He laughs again, this time dryly. He turns to you, his cloak fluttering behind him. “This is your fault.” He stalks closer, ignoring your confusion to place his hands harshly on your shoulders. Nails dig past the fabric and into your skin, drawing blood. Red crescents rise to the top of the skin when it breaks. You flinch, but don’t pull away too scared to react.
“I told you that hanging out with humans was a bad idea, but you didn’t listen to me.” He puts more weight on your shoulders. “You wanted to spend time with those mortals. And now, you’re a human! You don’t even remember anything!” He wheezes hysterically, his head tucking down.
“If you weren’t such an idiot, this wouldn’t be happening!” He looks as if he is about to continue, when a harsh voice rings out from nearby. Sam stands feet away, his trident drawn and pointing at the being. The other men have emerged from the house from the commotion, each holding out a weapon in response. Philza looks the most worried, his eyes frantically moving between the two. Letting out a snort, the man backs away letting go of your shoulders harshly.
He inspects each of the humans, then turns his attention back to you. “Why am I surprised that you are hanging out with these rats. You don’t learn shit.” He sighs loudly.
“Once, you realize how stupid you’ve been, you’ll come crawling back to me. I mean, this is all your fault. What did you expect to happen? You brought this onto yourself.” He pauses. Clears his throat, then finishes his monologue. “If you want your memories back then I suggest you learn your place before finding me.”
Like an enderman escaping the rain, he leaves immediately in a flash of colorful particles. The other men rush over to you, catching your figure when you collapse. Your breath quickens, lungs painfully constricting. Tears collect in your eyes, tempting to fall while the rest bring you back inside.
All of this is my fault? I did this to myself? What did I do?
A flurry of negative thoughts fill your mind as you are led to the couch. A soft hand lands on your shoulder, pulling back when you tense up. Moving around, Techno kneels in front of you, his hands reaching for your own. He encourages you to breathe along with him, in an attempt to calm you down. Your breathing stutters and hitches but eventually slows back to normal.
Schlatt joins you on the couch, his arm wrapping around your shoulder once you calm down. He tugs you into his side, offering a strange form of a hug to try and help. When your vision clears you can see the rest of the men resting around the living room. They each appear worried and stressed. Wilbur hands you a glass of water, nervously hovering nearby when he sees how your hands shake.
“Do you know him?”
“No, but he seems to know me.” You mumble, watching the water in the glass slosh around.
“We may not know him,” Wilbur starts, “But we know that nothing is your fault.” The others nod along with him, obviously agreeing with the statement.
“Don’t you dare think that you are the problem, you are a good person.” Techno’s first comment comes out as a demand but the following is soft-toned. A soft ‘hey’ comes from Sam to your side.
“It isn’t your fault for losing your memories either, okay? We’re here for you.” You smile at their words, nodding happily. Schlatt ruffles your hair roughly, glad to see you in a better mood. You pull the rest of the group into a group hug, grateful for their kindness.
He didn’t expect himself to be so worried for you
He recognized the man grabbing you as a god, the multiple wings and etching in the mask giving away his status
But he felt so helpless watching as the god began to harass you
When he saw the god being to blame you for everything, he never felt so furious
His wings were stretching out as he stared down the being
Seeing how they left you in shambles, had his mind running
Philza has never been so tempted to beat up a god
He wants to do more for you in the future, not wanting to see you like this again
In the following days he will try to boost your morale, hoping you won’t ever blame yourself for something that you can’t control
If you ever need anything, he will try to help
Phil will also spend the following time researching as much as he can about gods
If he can help you regain your memories without you needing to seek out the other god, well that’ll be a great day for everyone
The voices were screaming at him so loudly
He didn’t care who that was
He just knew that he needed to get that creature away from you
Techno originally planned to dive into a fight but was held back by Jschlatt, surprisingly
When he saw you fall into a panic attack, he couldn’t think of many ways to help
The voices were still loudly speaking over each other, so it took some time for him to compose himself
He saw your confusion and how you reacted to the man’s words and he couldn’t stop the pain it send to his gut
He isn’t the best with words, relying on actions instead
So expect more reassurance through affection than statements
He will probably stay the longest out of the group, scared to leave you alone
Oh how he wants to impale the trident right through the intruder’s head
Not only did that bastard interrupt the peaceful day, but they also overwhelmed you
Sam doesn’t know the situation or why the man was blaming you
But even he knows that it was not the right way to handle things
He has seen Tommy go into panic attacks before, when talking about Dream
So, he knows a little more on how to help
He will be the best at calming you down and pushing back any negative thoughts
Sam will reiterate as many times it is needed: that you are not the problem and that everything will be alright
He is more focused on making sure you are feeling better, before focusing on the future
If you do decide to seek out the god, he will want to be by your side the entire time as protection and a grounding mind
He has never been good at comforting others
He too, is a man of actions instead of words
When he saw your feverish breathing, he decided to pull you into a hug
Trying to comfort you that way
His worries increasing when he felt your body shiver anxiously
He wanted nothing more than to punch the guy off of you, even if they’re some sort of god
He will try to make you feel better through jokes
While Schlatt might not say it out-loud, he does care for you and he thinks you’re too important to lose
At first he didn’t understand his son’s interest in you
Until he became attached
He actually didn’t realize how attached he was to you, until he saw you in the grasp of the god
Wilbur could tell you were freaking out and he could see the bruising hold the being had on you
Normally, he is level-headed compared to his brothers, but in that moment he could see himself shedding blood
Wilbur is the best at offering advice, having done it so often for his family
His reassurance is the most truthful too, he won’t sugarcoat anything
He wants what is best for you, even if the truth is a bit hurtful at first
pairing: eren x jean x fem!reader
warnings: nsfw, established relationship, mean dom eren, soft dom jean, oral sex (m and f receiving/giving), slight dub con, daddy kink, face fucking, degradation, spanking, slapping, overstimulation, brat taming, a lot of spit, use of ‘bitch’ a lot, fair warning that jean is used slightly as a plot point, anything else i forgot please lmk !!
summary: eren’s willing to share you, but only with jean.
You were about to go a month without seeing Eren, which had been the longest amount of time you’d both been separated from each other since your relationship had started a few years back.
He was leaving you with the best parting gift he could think of; four orgasms that made you a bubbling mess in his lap. He promised more for when he returned . Mumbled a ‘gonna miss this pretty pussy’ as long, calculated fingers slid between your slick folds. He savored the moment as long as he could, even took his phone out to quickly snap a video of you in his lap, pussy swollen and filled with his cum as he used his index and middle fingers to shove the thick, whiteness of his seed back into your cunt. “ ‘m fucking myself every night to this.” he promised, and the visual he gave you had your eyes rolling back into your head as you thought about how much he needed you sometimes, even if he didn’t always admit it.
“Y-you p-perv …” you whined, back arching as he continued his movements. Your words made him pause and you squirmed at the lack of friction. Only to let out a light gasp a second later when he slapped you --- “Don’t forget who you’re talking to.”
You whined and moaned and cried after he punished you thoroughly, “It’s not fair.” you cried, and he kissed the tears that rolled down your cheeks as he made you cum for the fourth time. His thick cock sliding out of you for what would be the last time for a month, and just for good measure, he smacked the pink, wet tip of it against your pussy once, twice, then three times. “I’ll talk to this pussy every night.” He promised again, this time pressing a kiss to your folds. “She won’t forget about me --- little fuckin’ whore.”
He kept his promise. Called you every night and reminded you that he’d take care of everything when he got back. You’d taken to humping your pillow most nights, Eren’s voice guiding you and bringing you to exactly where you needed.
But a month was a long time and you got lonely, so you answered the text. Just once.
“She’s not gonna answer.” Jean deadpanned, as he gave into the peer pressure coming from Reiner and Connie to text you, glancing over to Eren who seemed unbothered by the whole situation.
“Why the fuck not?” Connie questioned, laughing as he pressed the joint back to his lips, inhaling and exhaling --- passing it to Jean a second later. “She won’t stop flirting with him.”
“She doesn’t.” Jean assured, looking to Eren as if he was on his side. As if he wasn’t harboring a sadistic crush on his friend’s girl. “Flirt with me… I mean.”
No --- this had gone too far. Jean had let Connie and Reiner’s imagination run a little too wild. He knew they were just hyping him up, but there were clear lines that shouldn’t be crossed. Surely, talking about fucking Eren’s girl was one of them. Besides --- Eren’s girlfriend was just … friendly. That was what he’d tell himself. It wasn’t her fault that every laugh that pushed past her perfect lips went straight through him. Made him shiver with how amazing the sound was. It wasn’t her fault that he’d think about her at night, hand wrapped around his cock as he pumped up and down, up and down, tightening and loosening his grip to mimic what he thought her pussy would feel like as it came around him.
“I mean, maybe it’s not direct flirting...” came Reiner’s voice, “ but isn’t it suspicious that she helps you with laundry every week.”
“We just do laundry at the same time.” Jean defended, and a quick glance over at Eren urged him to keep going. He didn’t seem bothered, face blank and expressionless as ever as he let the three of them ramble on about his girlfriend. Despite this, Jean was sure (well he never really was sure about anything when it came to Eren) that he definitely didn’t want to hear this.
“We live in the same building. D’you want her to go to some other laundromat out of town to do it just so she avoids me?”
“Yeah!” Connie’s animated voice rings throughout the room, making Jean cringe. He wishes they’d shut the fuck up about it but knows that once the two of those bastards start, there was no stopping them.
“Look Eren ---- no offense,” Connie starts, looking over at him before continuing, “but she’s always wearing these short ass outfits and bending over in ‘em in front of Jean.” He pauses, almost as if he’s hesitant to say what Jean knows he’s about to say, but for whatever reason; decides to continue. “And who the fuck does a load of laundry that’s only bras and panties anyway? Shit is fuckin’ weird if you ask me.”
The room goes still and quiet as Connie’s declaration settles. Deep down, Jean doesn’t want to even take a glance over at Eren, but the sick and twisted part of him causes him to look over, a stupid feeble smile smeared across Jean’s face, as he just shrugs ---- like it’s some sort of dumb joke.
“So, what do you want me to do about it? She wears and does what she wants.”
Eren’s reply was simple and straightforward enough that Connie and Reiner should have known not to push it any further. He had given the three of them the perfect opportunity to drop the whole thing, and Eren would forget about it. He’d forgive them too if they stopped now, wouldn’t ever bring it up again and would give them a pass for thinking about his girl this much.
Reiner had to ruin it.
“I think she just… should be more careful.” He concedes, adding a shrug to his words as if he didn’t try to come up with the most pitiful solution that no one really asked for.
“Nah, nah … ‘m saying … if you texted her right now to come see you, she would.” Connie’s words, which are usually said in jest, seem more like a challenge as he looks over at Jean.
“That’s the dumbest shit I’ve heard come out of your mouth.” Jean shakes his head, fingers to his temples as if he’s had just about enough of this.
“Besides, ‘s not like I ever text her in general. Why would I just do it all of a sudden.” Jean inquiries, almost as if he’s trying to reassure Eren that … no, Jean and his girlfriend do not contact each other, and the idea is... frankly, absurd.
“Do it,” Eren’s detached voice rings in Jean’s ears and the room grows silent once again. The three other males look slightly dumbfounded at Eren’s compliance to what originally had been somewhat of a joke. “Let’s see what happens.”
“Eren --- I…” Jean starts, but Eren cuts him off before he can even get a proper word out.
“I said do it.” Eren repeats, voice much harsher this time as he glances at Jean --- emerald eyes boring into him, as if it to caution him ‘do it and see what the fuck will happen to you.’
“Clearly you like her or these two wouldn’t be riding your dick so hard.” Eren finally says, gesturing to Connie and Reiner. “Send it.”
“Eren, it was just a joke.” Reiner defends, but Eren wasn’t having it. They had pushed too much, and this was the result of it.
“You two can get the fuck out.” Eren barks. They don’t even so much as argue as they saunter out of the room, giving Jean apologetic glances on their way out.
And then Jean’s doing the unthinkable and sending a text that probably should’ve never been sent.
• Jean sent his location
• ‘ Come see me.’
The sound of your phone buzzing had distracted you from the previous task you were doing. Manicured brows lifted when you saw the name flash across your screen. You thought it was going to be Eren, who had kept his promise and contacted you every night the past few weeks.
He would be back in four days, you thought to yourself.
What was surprising was the way you felt when you saw Jean’s name light up your screen. It wasn’t a feeling of disgust, knowing some other man besides your boyfriend (who you loved) was texting you late at night (which would be your usual reaction.)
You felt a bubble of curiosity float into your belly as you bit your lip, opening up the message. He wasn’t too far from you and really … what would be the harm in going to see a friend? Jean would keep you company, would distract you from feeling the sadness you felt without Eren around. He always made you laugh when you saw him, and that would be sufficient enough to raise your spirits for now, you thought.
But really, you were mostly just convincing yourself to do something you were almost ninety-five percent sure Eren would get a little jealous over. Maybe he wouldn’t admit his jealousy, but he’d show it.
Or maybe … maybe he wouldn’t care at all … he definitely didn’t need to know, that was for sure and ... you didn’t need to tell him.
• i’’ll be there soon !! 😇🥰
Soon was about an hour later, as you pressed your skirt down nervously and walked up the steps of the house where Jean was waiting for you.
He pulls you into a soft, warm hug as a greeting and you sink into it. You missed being held, even if these weren’t necessarily the arms you usually found yourself sinking into, it was still nice to be reminded of it.
He’s pulling you into the house, and you’re greeting everyone you see as Jean hands you a drink which you lazily sip at, wincing at the sting of the alcohol sliding down your throat.
You see familiar faces… Connie and Reiner huddled in a corner, and other faces that you vaguely recognize. You finish your drink and discard it rather quickly. It had warmed you up nicely, made you feel more at ease.
Jean’s strong hand slides into yours suddenly, and his touch causes you to look up at him. He nods his head in the opposite direction and pulls you there, into a dark room. You feel slightly panicked, this wasn’t what you had come here for, you briefly thought to yourself. Yet the way the summer breeze floats into the room calms you, or maybe you had some form of contact high thanks to all the smoke wafting around the house. It could have also been Jean’s presence; comforting and gentle… familiar and strong.
The only thing missing was Eren, and that thought shook you from whatever comfort you had once felt.
“Jean, wait... I don’t think we should ---” you start protesting, finally able to form something coherent but you’re cut off quickly, before you can even really fully argue your way out. Not even sure if you want to.
“What a surprise.”
You’d know that voice from anywhere, and you’re stunned for a quick second. Unmoving, eyes wide as your brain urges your body to move. It’s not working, legs like jello, heart beating far too fast to be considered healthy. Yet somehow, your body finally works with you, and you’re turning and stumbling over to the voice and you’re practically in tears as you wrap your arms around the man you’ve gone far too long without.
“Eren, eren, eren.” You can barely think straight, your hands moving to cup his cheeks as you press quick and urgent kisses to every part of his face. “I missed you so much, I’m so happy … I ... I didn’t know you were back… how could you not come see me first? I missed you, I missed you, I-”
Eren lifts his two hands up to your shoulders, pausing for a second before pushing you back softly, no longer able to pepper his face in the kisses you craved to give him, not able to feel his body against yours anymore, and suddenly you remember where you were and how you got there.
“What’s wrong?” You ask, eyes searching his own, despite already knowing his answer. He doesn’t immediately respond, lets a silence settle, making you slightly uncomfortable as his gaze never leaves yours.
“You dressed like this for, Jean huh?” He asks, fingering the end of your skirt, thumb lightly brushing your thigh, almost as if to measure just how short it was. “Stand up and bend over --- wanna see just how short it is.”
“Eren … I didn’t ---”
“I said bend over.” He demands sharply. You fumble to crawl off his lap and shuffle backwards a bit, obeying him and bending over, knowing the skirt you chose to wear would do very little to conceal what was underneath.
You hear his dry chuckle and you’re standing up as straight as you possibly could manage, frantically pulling your skirt down to try and make it look slightly more modest, as if the damage already hadn’t been done.
“C’mere.” He says, patting his lap. You do as he tells you, straddling him as his hands gently move to your upper thighs, rubbing the skin there for a minute, before one hand moves up to push a strand of your hair out of your eyes.
He leans in, lips hovering beside your ear as he speaks ---- “Who taught you how to behave like this? ‘Cus, I know it wasn’t me.”
You shake your head, about to protest, say something to reassure him that it was nothing, that you just missed him and that was all there was to it. There was no real explanation for why you were there though, you were just bored and curious and now you were going to get punished for it.
But Eren’s faster than you, manhandling you to the point where you're turned so that your sprawled across his lap, ass up as he lifts your skirt and roughly pushes your panties down your thighs.
“Jean --- come look at this.” Eren beckons the other over, and you realize that you had almost forgotten that he’d been watching this entire time, and that he was the reason you were now in this mess.
“E-eren --- please.” You plead, looking up at him, your hand moving to try and touch him. He smacks it away, only to lift your ass higher as if to put it on display for Jean.
“See this?” Eren’s fingers move to your already dripping pussy, fingers spreading your folds to show Jean the glistening hole that Eren had promised for him.
“S-she’s soaked.” Jean muses, and you can hear him moan as he reaches to feel between your slick folds. You kick your leg in a show of defiance, despite the bubble of heat in your abdomen growing hotter, your juices dripping down your inner thighs.
This warrants a hard and brutal smack to your ass from Eren, causing you to cry out in a mixture of both pain and pleasure.
“Don’t be a bitch.” He warns, rubbing the spot that is surely red now, fingertips pressing against the flesh of your ass. He smacks the plump cheek once more, a bit harder this time, a chuckle pushing past his lips as you cry and writhe underneath him.
“We’re gonna show Jean just how good this pussy is, gonna make it up to him for all the times you’ve teased him, knowing you’re never gonna let him get a taste.”
It finally clicks as you make sense of it all. They had planned this all out, had lured you here somehow with only one thing on their mind. It was humiliating, and it had you clenching your thighs together, whining and squirming in Eren’s lap as you tried desperately to hide your arousal, despite knowing your body would betray you over and over again.
“Sound good to you, baby?” Eren asks, continuing to rub the flesh of your bare ass cheeks.
“N-no… no I just want to… I just want you.” It’s a feeble attempt to get Eren to come to his senses, and you don’t stop writhing beneath him, trying to free yourself even the tiniest bit so that you could at least touch him.
This just manages to make him even angrier, “Stop,” another hard smack to your ass “moving,” two, then three more smacks, “and behave.” He finishes, his strong hand coming down and smacking your now beat and bruised flesh.
“Eren ---” Jean’s voice calls out, causing you to slightly pause your wailing and whip your head in his direction. He bends down, calloused thumb reaching to wipe away your tears. “Maybe you should go a little softer on her.”
Eren laughs, and you feel another hard and angry slap sting your poor ass, making you whine and cry out even more. “What’d we talk about Jean?” Eren reminds him, voice harsh as he massages the plush of your ass, allowing you to feel a bit of relief.
“Whores need to learn their lesson.” Jean answers, his eyes never leaving yours as his thumb moves to your bottom lip. You search within his gaze, see a bit of guilt in them as he traces your lip with his thumb, his gaze lingering there for a moment before turning back to Eren.
“That’s right.” Eren’s smiling now, his hands moving across your ass to give some attention to your neglected pussy. Fingers spreading your folds out once more.
“Look at it clench around nothing.” Eren thinks aloud, and Jean looks down at it, watching your cunt throb and flutter, as if it was pleading to be filled.
“‘S so pretty.” Jean says, voice cracking slightly, showing just how aroused he is without even having touched you yet.
“It’s begging to get fucked. Such a fuckin’ cock slut. Doesn’t know what to do with herself when there’s not a cock around. Let alone two.”
“D-daddyy…” you moan, wriggling a bit more when finally, you feel lips against your inner thigh. You know they’re not Eren’s lips, slightly less plump, but a bit bigger … and the fact you moan in pleasure at the feeling is what surprises you the most. “D-don’t, wait… it’s not right.” You cry, not being able to hold yourself back, the idea of staying still unfathomable to you.
Eren grasps your waist, holding you completely still by force. “Give her tight little pussy what it wants, Jean.”
Ignoring your cries of protest, you can hear Eren messily spit a dollop of saliva right onto your cunt, feeling it drip between your folds. A second later, Jean’s breath is hovering right above your clit. You can feel it, hot, heavy and wanting before he leans in and circles his tongue around the sensitive numb. You moan, the sound loud and ringing through the empty room and Jean pulls back to admire it. “It’s fuckin… throbbing.” He notes, before diving back in and sucking on your clit, moving to your hole and delving his tongue inside, as if you were a full course meal.
Your involuntarily grinding back to push yourself deeper onto Jean’s face, and the sounds he’s making as he licks, and sucks are obscene. Your pussy squelching and Jean slurping up all of your arousal.
“R-right there, Jean.” You whine, and Eren reaches a hand into your hair, pulling roughly to lift your head back so that he could look you in your eyes.
“Want you to look at me when you cum.” He tells you and you nod silently in understanding, as Jean moves his mouth all over your cunt, spreading your juices out and licking every part of you, almost as if he’d practiced just for this moment.
“G-gonna ... g-gonna cum. I’m really gonna cum.” You moan out, and just a second later you feel your orgasm, intense as it rips through you. The whole time, Eren’s eyes are on you, watching your movements carefully as your cunt spasms against Jean’s mouth.
Jean continues sucking, his face moving side to side as he continues to lap up your juices. Humming against you, the vibrations causing a shiver to run through your spine.
“Good girl.” Eren praises, pushing your hair back from your face as you try to control your breathing.
“Wanna get a few more of those out of you before the night is over.” Jean admits, pulling back from your pussy finally, his chin covered in your juices. “How much d’you think she can take?” He inquires, looking up at Eren.
“Enough to have her crying like a bitch.” He confidently answers and your eyes widen as it finally starts to hit you that you’re really in for it.
Eren finally lifts you so that you’re straddling him once again. You sigh in relief now that you can see what’s going on more clearly, and you lean in to press your lips against his, after missing them for so long.
He indulges you, deepens the kiss with a hand around the back of your neck to push you harder against him. His tongue enters your mouth --- licks into it and kisses you as if he’ll never be able to kiss you again.
His hands grab your ass, appreciating the plumpness. You wince due to the soreness you’re feeling, and so he moves to wrap his arms around your waist and hold you closer to him. You can feel in the kiss that he missed you, and it was like a huge weight had been lifted from your shoulders. He missed you, that was all you needed to know.
He’s pulling away from you sooner than you would have liked, and he’s lifting you up from his lap and placing you on your knees.
“You can have her for now.” Eren tells Jean. Your eyes don’t leave Eren, as you watch him carefully undo the buttons of his pants, shifting to free his cock from its confines. It bounces out, hard and leaking as it hits his stomach, pre-cum dripping from the pink, swollen tip.
You resist the urge to take Eren into your mouth right then and there, instead watching as his eyes stay trained on you and Jean, his hand covering his own cock, fist thrusting up and then down slowly.
You finally tear your gaze from Eren and look upwards at Jean, who’s eyeing you carefully. He falls to the floor with you, and quickly pulls you into a kiss. It’s so different from Eren. Where Eren was needy, desperate to tell you without words how much he missed you. Jean is more careful, his lips mold against yours with fervor, not too soft and not too rough and you pull back in surprise; attempting to catch your breath.
“It’s okay.” Jean reassures you, moving to press his thumb against your lip once more. This time, you lean in and take his thumb into your mouth, sucking and holding eye contact with him.
“That’s my good girl.” Eren moans, spreading his pre-cum along his thick cock, watching the two of you carefully.
“So pretty when you suck my fingers.” Jean adds, licking his bottom lip as he watches you suck on his thumb, letting it go a second later with a pop before taking his index finger into your mouth.
Their praise motivates you to do a good job, and you’re just now admitting to yourself that being with Jean was maybe something you had thought about a time or two. Something forbidden. Which was why the initial shock of it all had you spiraling slightly, no longer taboo; something you could dip your toes into.
Your hands mindlessly move to unfasten Jean’s belt, frantic movements as you let his fingers fall from your mouth, a string of saliva following in the wake of it, making him grunt out a stifled moan. Once you’ve got his belt undone, it takes only a matter of seconds for you to push his pants and boxers down his thighs, his cock springing out and hitting his stomach with a smack, much similar to what Eren’s had done.
Pre-cum glistens at the tip as you admire it for a second, taking in the length of it in with your eyes. It was different in comparison to Eren’s, but not in a bad way. Longer maybe, slightly hooked and nothing like you’d ever seen.
You lean in and wrap your fingers around the girth of his length and spit onto it, your hand working his cock up and down at first in slow movements. You move your head downwards and kitten lick the tip of his cock, you side eye Eren who’s watching and pumping his own with his fist. You gain more confidence by watching him, and it spurs you on to kiss your way down Jean’s cock, only to move back up with a long lick of your tongue up his length.
“F-fuckkk…” Jean groans, head thrown back slightly in appreciation. You use this as motivation to take him fully into your mouth. His moans encourage you, wrapping your lips against the tip of his cock at first before moving further down and taking him deeper into your throat.
His hand reaches out into your hair, and he clutches harder than you expected. You gather more saliva onto your tongue and bob your head up and down. Making sure to keep his cock nice and slick as you move your tongue against him.
“Your mouth feels so fucking good, princess.”
You smile against him at the sound of the pet name leaving his lips. You were Eren’s good girl and Jean’s princess, making the pool of arousal between your legs build up even more at the realization of this.
You take him deeper in your mouth, making sure he hits the back of your throat once, twice, then three times before you pull back with a deep breath, swallowing the excess saliva. Everything was sloppy and wet as you bent back down to take Jean’s balls in your mouth, noticing how big and heavy they were. You suck on them and twirl your tongue against the flesh of his balls, wanting to make him feel as good as possible.
He’s grunting loudly, making you feel even more turned on than you ever thought possible. This coupled with Eren’s direct gaze on the two of you as he worked himself with his own hand had you feeling slightly overwhelmed, and suddenly you knew that if you didn’t get some relief, you were going to start crying.
You drop Jean’s ball out of your mouth with a pop, moving to give attention to the other, licking and sucking and listening to his moans ring out across the room. His hand on your hair tightens, and he grinds his hips forward involuntarily, and a power rushes through you knowing that you can make a man feel like this just by using your mouth.
You put his cock back into your mouth a minute later, humming against it as you twirl your tongue in circular motions.
“Fuck that’s so fuckin’ good.” He moans, and you hear Eren stifle a grunt as well.
“Bitch loves taking that fuckin’ cock in her throat.” He groans, his hand moving up and down his length a bit faster now.
The sight of the two of them getting off to you and only you has you overwhelmed, and you can’t hold back anymore as you reach between your own legs to try and get even the tiniest bit of relief.
Just as your middle finger touches your clit, you’re being pulled back by Eren roughly, Jean’s cock popping out of your mouth as you let out a strangled cry of refusal.
The sound of your betrayal is cut off by Eren’s hand smacking you across the face, leaving you speechless, doe eyes filling to the brim with tears as you look up at him, waiting for his explanation, your arousal growing more than you ever thought possible.
“You know not to touch yourself when I’m around.” He explains, gentle fingers brushing the area of flesh he had just abused. “What’s going on with you? ‘M gone a month and you’re acting like an untrained little bitch.”
“‘S not fair…” You cry, tears falling from your cheeks … and Jean’s there a second later, kissing them away. “It’s really really not fair.”
“Y’gotta listen to Eren, princess.” Jean coos, pressing a wet kiss to your mouth.
“D-don’t wanna…” You argue, shaking your head as your tears continue rolling down your cheeks, only for Jean to brush them away softly. Your eyes search Jeans, begging him to give you some relief when you know Eren won’t, but his hands just continue to brush your tears away as he gives you a soft smile.
“Be a good girl.” He reminds you gently, pushing your hair out of your face, strands sticking to your damp skin, a sheen of sweat covering you due to how much you’ve been through in the matter of however many minutes. “You gotta behave.”
“Doesn’t know how. Filthy little whore’s forgot everything I’ve taught her all of a sudden.” Eren groans, pulling you to your feet roughly. You refuse to look at him, eyes everywhere but on his. You look at Jean and he shakes his head in disapproval, causing you to move your gaze to the floor, anywhere but Eren. You’re being petty. You know it, and so does Eren, and so he grabs your chin, forcing you to look up at him.
“How many times do I have to tell you to stop acting like this.” He tuts, stroking your cheek softly, having you feel slightly dumbfounded with how quickly he’s able to show compassion --- while his words show the opposite. “Is it ‘cause Jean’s here, huh? You acting like a bitch to prove something?”
“You’re being mean, daddy.” You whine, affixing your gaze anywhere but towards him.
Your words make him chuckle, eyes rolling at your brattiness. “I see…” he laughs dryly, letting go of your chin. Instead, he looks over at Jean. “She wants a show, so we’ll give her a show.”
You swallow, still refusing to look at Eren who’s grabbing you by the wrist and pulling you forcefully against him. He pushes you roughly to the floor, and youj fall to your knees in front of him. He’s grabbing his thick cock moments later and pressing it to your lips. When you don’t immediately open your mouth to allow him access, he forcefully pushes it open with the tip of his leaking cock. Making you promises that almost sound like threats coming from him.
“Gonna fill all your holes with our cum. Gonna have you leaking out cum like the dirty whore you are.”
You try to push back against him, but he’s faster than you and holds your head in place with his two familiar strong hands. He grunts as he pushes past your lips, fucks into your mouth and briefly motions to Jean, who’s coming over and holding your hands secure behind your back, whispering how well you’re doing in your ear. “Take it so good.” Jean moans, kissing behind your ear as Eren thrusts and thrusts into your throat, barely giving you any mercy to breathe.
“Gonna make me cum just by your throat.” Eren groans, his hand holding the base of his cock as he pulls out of your mouth, allowing you to have a moment to breathe before pushing his cock back in forcefully yet again. Continuing to do this over and over, saliva dripping from your mouth and his cock, all the way down your throat.
You muffle a moan against him and feel his cock twitch inside of your mouth, and he pulls out a second later, hot, wet white spurts of Eren’s seed hitting your face.
“Shit...” Jean groans, palming his now neglected cock as he watches the scene unfold.
“Lick it all up.” Eren demands, pulling away from you to watch you lick around your mouth, using your fingers to get to spots your tongue can’t reach. You suck on your fingers, looking at Eren as he breathes heavily away from you. You suck and swallow up all of his cum, your eyes not leaving his. “You gonna be a good girl now, huh? Or should I show you how mean I can really be?”
You pull your fingers from your mouth, smiling up at him. “Is he gonna fuck me?” You ask, referring to Jean.
This was the wrong thing to say, and in the back of your mind, you knew this. But you said it anyway, a sick part of you wanting Eren to show you what he was promising.
He grabs you forcefully again, this time placing you on your hands and knees. He elicits a smack to your pussy immediately, making you hiss and jerk forwards at the impact of it. “D-daddyyy, p-please.”
He ignores you, pushing your face down to the ground and roughly pressing you against the floor. “You’re gonna take this cock and shut the fuck up.”
You swallow roughly and you can feel that he’s already hard again, pressing against your bare thigh, rutting against you desperately. “I-I can’t take it.” You whimper, pussy clenching around nothing again as you wait in anticipation for something, anything to fill you up.
“‘So fuckin’ tight, might not even fit.” Eren muses, pressing the tip of his cock between your folds, forcing the tip into your cunt roughly.
Jean’s watching now, carefully pumping himself with his fist. “Gotta make it fit.” He says to Eren, who laughs in response.
They both watch carefully as Eren’s cock slides inside of you, disappearing as it enters you fully. Eren lets out a loud grunt and you moan and writhe beneath him, whimpering an “Oh m-my goddddd.”
“Thatta girl.” He says with a smile, and the first few thrusts are slow and gentle as he gets accustomed to the feeling of your tight walls around him. “Fuck --- I missed this pussy.”
You moan loudly, spreading your ass cheeks to give Jean a better view of Eren fucking inside of your cunt.
“Missed this cock, didn’t you?” Eren groans again, rutting against you more harshly now. His movement slightly ragged as he fucks you, balls slapping against your pussy.
“‘M gonna cummmm.” you cry out, walls tightening around him only after a few minutes. He’s laughing as your cumming around his cock, shaking his head.
“So pathetic... cumming after just a few thrusts. Such a little slut, aren’t you baby?”
You can barely respond, your second orgasm hitting you too hard to form a coherent response. You can feel Eren continue to fuck into you, his thrusts never slowing as he holds your thighs in an attempt to balance you, your legs quivering as you continue to come down from your high.
“Look at this bitch’s pussy swallow my cock …” Eren says to Jean, “‘s like it belongs there.”
You whine loudly, overwhelmed from not being able to rest from your orgasm, Eren refusing to give in and splitting your pussy open with his cock, swearing you can feel him hit your cervix over and over again. “Right there, right there, right there….” You moan, Eren hitting every spot you need.
“Promised I’d fill this pussy up with cum.” He reminds you, his cock sliding in and out as the sounds of your squelching pussy ring throughout the room. You’re literally dripping, juices sliding down your thighs and soon, Jean’s there again, this time in front of you and pushing his cock into your mouth once again.
“Fuckin… jesus christttt.” Jean moans, watching you take Eren’s cock in your pussy as Jean begins to slide his own in your mouth and down your throat.
With two of your holes filled, you’re slightly dizzy, and you can feel yet another orgasm beginning to form in what feels like just a minute after your second one. You struggle under them slightly, moaning and whining, a mess underneath them. Eren’s hand moves to hold your waist, forcing you to fuck back onto his cock while Jean’s hand moves into your hair, clutching it roughly as he fucks into your throat.
It’s all far too much and your third orgasm hits you hard, your entire body shaking as bursts of white cloud your vision.
“That’s it princess. Cum for us.” Jean praises, petting you as he pulls his cock out of your mouth. Tears well up in your eyes, knowing that they must have more in store for you.
“E-eren…” you cry … “I-I can’t”
“F-fuck baby.” He moans, “Feels so good, ‘m gonna cum soon. You can take it.” He assures you, continuing to thrust into you. You still feel the aftershocks of your third orgasm and your walls tighten around Eren’s cock, clenching and unclenching as you come down from your high.
“That’s my good girl. That’s right… right... right there… Fuck… ” He moans, his thrusts becoming even more sporadic as you feel his cock twitch inside of you, white, thick spurts of his cum filling you up.
He doesn’t pull out of you until he’s sure that you’ve milked him of everything and the two of them watch as his seed spills slowly out of you. “Such a pretty little pussy…” Eren praises.
“Took it so fuckin’ well.” Jean says aloud, his fingers moving to push Eren’s seed back inside of you, making sure you stay full of his cum.
“Your turn.” Eren says to Jean, as tears fall down your face, realizing how unprepared you were for Jean’s cock, then Eren’s cock to fill you up at the same time in just the one tight hole.
They make you cum again and again, have you crying and pleading with them to have mercy on your poor pussy. But they have to fill you up just as Eren promised they would, and they do, over and over again until you can’t possibly hold any more of their cum. Panting beneath them as their cum leaks out of your cunt, the two of them praising you the entire time, peppering kisses across your entire body and wrapping you up between them when they’re finished, as your eyes shut from the pure exhaustion of it all.
OK but imagine a Crazy Rich Asian type story for the Immortal Husbands.
Nicky is a professor at NYU (Medieval History anyone? Religious Studies? Take your pick) And he meets and immediately falls head over pommel for Joe, another professor (Languages? Art History?) .
They date, Nicky introduces Joe to his mom, a Italian immigrant who took Nicky with her when she came to the States when he was only four. I like to imagine she has a restaurant in Little Italy and saved money for Nicky to attend college. She teaches Joe how to cook Nicky's favorite foods, risotto with an absurd amount of cheese even thought Nicky is lactose intolerant, and while it is a very sweet little interlude, it does force Nicky to question why exactly Joe has yet to introduce him to his parents.
He has been introduced via FaceTime to Joe's sister Fatima and her fiance, but Joe is very evasive and Nicky doesn't want to pry. But it's been two years and Nicky loves Joe and when he invites Nicky to come home to Tunis to meet his family for his sister's wedding, it seems like it is all coming together.
Except the pilot of their flight knows Joe's family and the stewardesses are all giving him honeymoon eyes and while that's not exactly a new development, there is something in their knowing looks to him that sets his Poor Person Sense tingling. Nicky knows money when he sees it and while he knew Joe was better off then him, he didn't quite realize how much better off until he is shown to the valet.
But Fatima and her fiance seem nice, down to earth and kind. They show him around a market and haggle in a blend of Arabic and a pidgin language used down at the docks which sounds like someone took Abrabic and English and put it in a blender. The food is wonderful and Nicky feels a bit better about the trip. He even gets to go see his best friend from undergrad, Quynh.
Her and her Wife Andy are staying in Tunis for Andy's graduate work. She finds it almost fate that Sweet Nicky from college managed to snag the biggest catch this side of the Mediterranean.
I'm torn on exactly how the party would go. On one hand, it would be funny for Nicky to walk in with his white boy clothes and realize everyone is wearing outfits which cost the equivalent to an entire paycheck, on the other hand Quynh wouldn't let that happen so let's imagine he walks in and Joe has to excuse himself from a Saudi prince to kiss his boyfriend wearing the hell out of a suit.
Nicky, the man who thought that his and Joe's rumba was the hight of luxury, is awed by Joe's house. It is full of beautiful golden spires and sun warmed tiles and pocketed with small gardens with blooming flowers and handpainted murals and rich tileworks along the walls. The walls hold masterpieces and the library has original works from the Arab world's greatest poets. There are small western inspired sitting rooms and a kitchen which puts his mom's restaurant to shame.
I imagine Joe's mom as being a hard working, well respected woman who was pushed by her parents to marry Joe's father instead of following her father into his business. Maryam loves her son fiercely and hopes that one day he would do what she never could and compile both her family and her husband's family business. No matter that the only thing Joe has seemed interested in during the last few years has been some Italian tart.
The story is more interesting if Joe is characterized by the women in his life, so let's say that he is the favorite of his grandmother who took over the shares of her husband's business after he died and seems set on leaving them to Joe. This is perfect for his mother but not for Joe who is torn between love and duty. He tries to pull his mother away from that idea for years, and even went to school in the states instead of Cambrage like her and Joe's father.
Basically, all of this culminates in Joe's mother needing someone to blame and in walks Nicky. It becomes pretty clear that Joe's mother sees Nicky as a small set back she will be able to rectify to set her son up for the life she always dreamed for him.
Needless to say the party is mostly a disaster. Nicky makes a few faux pas, shaking with the wrong hand or calling someone by the wrong name, and by the end of the night he is exhausted and wondering about how exactly he can fit into this world. The biggest mistake was asking Joe's mother about her engagement ring. As Maryam so coldly put it, it had been passed down from the first wife to her daughter in law for almost four hundred years, and wouldn't be a shame to put a stop to that?
The original movie didn't really touch on it, but Joe, for his part, has to code switch. He has to wear the right clothes and talk with the right people in the right way and every conversation reminds him how fake the world of his parents feels. Nicky sees Joe being so boisterous and in his element that Nicky feels clumsy by comparison. What use is he if not even as arm candy? He can't imagine Joe seeing him as the lifeline, tugging him back to shore. It is only when he and Nicky crash onto their hotel room bed that he feels like himself again, mostly because Nicky pokes at his dimpled cheek and asks if he is rich enough to raid the hotel mini bar.
There is a reason this is not a full story on my AO3 and bout a third of those reasons are I don't know a lot of the middle bits but do have an idea of where we would end.
Nicky never learned why his mother left Italy, she said it was for better chances for him, but Maryam has done a bit of digging. Nicky's mother was married, nasty fellow, beat her until she'd had enough and turned state's evidence agasint him. She left to make sure Nicky's father could never hurt him. Mother's love, moving to a country where they spoke a different language and where she knew none of the customs, but, as Maryam so keenly points out, Nicky's father was involved with some shady characters, and she just worries that if they did get married, might Nicky's family become an issue to Joe? Did Nicky really want to sabotage Joe's whole family? This would be the metaphorical climax, where Nicky has decided to leave, not just for himself but also for Joe, and Joe is able to put aside the image he was trying so hard to keep to notice what exactly it is he is loosing.
We would get a faceoff between Nicky and Maryam, and I love the idea of it being over a chess board. It worked better in the film, but chess is a universal game of strategy, symbol for intelligence and wisdom for almost as long as it has been a game. Maryam is a woman in a world dominated by men, any power she has is mostly through her husband or father, so she has a strong opening gambit. Nicky is calm. He avoids the center of the board, utilizes his pawns far more than Maryam, and somewhere in the middlegame, Maryam sees the King Hunt being set up for her. But here is the important bit, Nicky won't take it. Nicky will have her in check, his knight a single move away. And then instead he moves his king one space forward to be taken by an enemy rook. Because Nicky didn't need to win, he just proved he was more than enough simply by showing her what he didn't do.
Maryam wouldn't allow an outsider to Mary her son, not because she disliked Nicky, no she actually found him quite intelligent, but because Joe marrying Nicky would be detrimental to the future she imagined for him. The drama comes when Joe and his mother argue, and we get the *it's not my dream, mom, it's yours!* moment and Maryam understands she will lose her son either way and must decide which choice comes with the least number of casualties. Maryam is very good at chess, and moves her pieces accordingly.
Joe misses the plane, that's the important bit, Nicky is flying away and no amount of yelling can bring him back until he gets a polite call from his mother reminding them that their company employs a rather nice private jet and wouldn't you know it, it is taxiing on the runway waiting for him. His mother may not approve but she understands and shows her support in the way she can. Maybe Andy is the pilot, idk.
Nicky has to see his mom, we get one of those big Italian hugs and Nicky and his mother talk in the back of her kitchen, sitting on buckets of pickles, softly back and forth in muttered Italian because it hurt Nicky to say it in Engish.
The bell over the door rings, which is strange because they both know the dinner crowd locked up after they left, then comes the little ding of the front counter bell and when they both walk out armed with an old baguette and a roll of frozen sausage, they see a soaking wet Joe looking forlornly at the back-most booth where Joe and Nicky sat and rolled silverware when the restaurant was especially busy.
Joe is quiet, uncharacteristically, and then he asks for a minute, sliding into his side of the booth and smiling softly when Nicky does the same. Nicky's mother goes to pop a bottle of the good wine, used both for weddings or funerals.
Joe explained how hard it was, feeling himself slipping away as he pretended to be whoever his parent's needed him to be, and Nicky explains that he won't be the reason Joe is forced away from his family. Joe just smiles, quietly opening a ring box to show his mother's engagement ring between the red velvet cushions. Maryam played chess very well indeed and while she might not have picked those particular moves for her son, she is a pragmatist and some losses are acceptable to have her win the game. She loves her son, and for that she will take these casualties.
Nicky says yes. There will have to be discussions about his father and Joe's companies, and the tension between his grandmother and Maryam, but for now they are in love and sitting at their booth sipping a truly wonderful bottle of wine and so they toast, heads bend together, bodies curved like parentheses, enclosing the other, celebrating.
Basic Guide to Clone Trooper Armour
I don’t know about you guys, but I have a hard time keeping the terms for various parts of clone armour straight in my mind. So, I decided to make this Guide To Armour, to make my life easier for those times I’m drawing or writing stuff and need to reference what this, that or the other piece is called, how it’s put on or taken off. (I’ve also tried to include/come up with some casual or slang terms for some parts because you cannot seriously expect these guys to use the Right Proper Terminology for everything all of the time.)
This is based on the Clone Wars cartoons, because that’s what I know best. Also, this is just the standard armour of regular troopers; if y’all want something about the possible additions/variations that you could have then lmk and I’ll see what I can put together I guess?
Note: a lot of this terminology is taken from medieval knights’ armour. Many terms are originally French; alternative names provided where possible. I did do a bit of research on medieval plate armour, which is the closest thing I can think of to clone armour, but I am by no means an expert so if you have any input or corrections feel free to @ me. Likewise, if you’ve cosplayed as a clone trooper or stormtrooper, I’d very much like to hear about your experience wearing this stuff, how it moves and how it might be similar or different to the “real thing” so to speak.
Figure 1: Clone trooper armour, front view. Kix got chosen for this because he’s a vain little bastard and loves to be painted. (ETA: this diagram now comes with a second, funnier version.)
(long post under cut)
Figure 2: Back view of armour.
According to Wookieepedia: The armour is produced on Kamino and has UV spectrum markings visible to Kaminoans. It is made of plastoid-alloy composite, and the plates are attached to the bodysuit via magnatomic gription panels. In general, Phase II armour is lighter, stronger and more ergonomic than Phase I, which has been described as heavy and uncomfortable (Wookieepedia also says that it weighs ‘just under forty kilograms’ which sounds like way too much but eh, I’ll roll with it.)
Body glove/bodysuit – the stuff worn under the armour. Provides thermoregulation, some level of protection from things like blasterfire, vacuum, etc. AKA: blacks.
Helmet – The Bucket. Stuffed full of various tech: tracking device, display screen, comlink… Phase I helmets also have life support capabilities, while Phase II helmets do not, requiring an external oxygen supply*. Helmet crest contains comlink antenna. AKA: bucket, I think Rex once called them sun-bonnets, etc… this is the piece likely to have the most slang terms associated with it. Go wild.
* this is according to Wookieepedia; I’m a bit sceptical but I haven’t yet seen the episode it refers to. I headcanon that Phase II is capable of limited life support for emergency situations, but extended missions require external respirators.
Cuirass – there is some conflicting information on whether this refers to just the front chest armour or both front and back. If both, it consists of breastplate and backplate, joined at the sides and shoulders. Shoulder connections appear to be different for Phase I and Phase II: Phase I has a separate piece covering the shoulder seam, implying that it can be opened, whereas Phase II looks like it has an integrated flexible band; it may or may not be possible to disconnect. Either way, the front and back pieces must be able to separate in order to get the whole thing on.
Plackart – belly piece, wraps around the back to protect kidneys as well. Probably flexible to some extent, has been seen to slide down under belt, as demonstrated by Jesse in Figure 3. Might also have to have at least one open-able seam in it in order for troopers to get into it efficiently.
Figure 3: I have no idea how the lower edge of this isn’t stabbing him in the crotch, but *shrug*.
Spaulder/shoulder bell – also known as pauldrons irl, but that term refers to a different item this context (the pauldrons that commanders, captains and ARC troopers wear), so I feel like it might be better to differentiate between them with different terms to avoid confusion. That’s just my opinion though, you feel free to do as you wish.
Rerebrace – bicep plate. Phase I has cutouts in the back to fit pointy elbows (see below); Phase II does not.
Couter – elbow plate. Pointy elbows in Phase I, unpointy elbows in Phase II, as shown on Figure 4. In Phase I appear to be attached to vambraces in the animated version, Phase II is more mobile. I admit, I’m not a huge fan of this word, I kinda prefer elbow plates.
Figure 4: Phase I and II elbows. Am I getting way too into this that it’s gotten to the point of studying clone elbows? *shrug* who knows.
Vambrace – forearm armour. Has wrist-mounted comlink (see below).
Gauntlet plate – covers back of hand. The 212th absolutely calls these “droid-punchers”, no you cannot convince me otherwise. I think I’ve seen fanon that some troopers sharpen the front edge of this plate to do more damage when punching. Decide for yourself if plastoid alloy would do more damage to the metal of a droid’s chassis if sharpened or unsharpened (and therefore sturdier).
Codpiece/crotch plate – covers the front hip and crotch area. Possible slang term, courtesy of @mockingjay34: cockblock
Skidplate – covers butt and back hip. A lot of troopers probably just call this piece their shebs, and once again you cannot convince me otherwise. Note that in the clone wars cartoon, Phase I armour is triangular in the back and has a sort of erm… diaper shape, in that the codpiece and skidplate are connected in the crotch (I cannot imagine that being comfortable in any situation, but then again, I have Thicc™ Thighs. Do clones have thigh gaps? Also, I would not want to get pinched by the armour joint between crotch and thigh plates).
Figure 5: Sniper Butts! (Featuring Echo and Fives in quite possibly the only comfortable position in this armour.)
In Phase II the crotch and butt pieces are separated, which sounds a lot more sensible, as well as having better butt coverage – think cheeky panties vs full briefs.
Figure 6: Hardcase kindly demonstrating the new crotch plate alongside some significant gaps in his armour… please get yourself some bigger shoulder bells my dude!
I’d imagine that, given the amount of time these guys spend fully armoured, there should be some way of conveniently opening some of this up or removing individual plates for practical reasons (and if any particular trooper wanted to use this feature for… other things, well, that’s their own business).
Cuisse/Thigh plate – covers thighs. Phase I and II have different shapes in the back to account for skidplate shape, with Phase II having significantly less coverage in the upper thigh/butt area, but I guess better range of motion.
Figure 7: Troopers Hardcase and Dogma demonstrating the Butt Cutouts, or Buttouts.
Poleyn/knee plate/knee pad – important for maintaining kneecap integrity. Like elbow plates, appears to be integrated into greaves in Phase I, but moving freely in Phase II.
Greaves – cover shins, nothing fancy.
Boots – boots. Do not appear to be armoured, are soft enough to bend your toes for walking/kneeling/whatever you need bendy toes for.
Belt pouches/boxes/compartments – A place to keep your stuff when out & about. I’m assuming this is a Pocket Substitute. Clones deserve pockets too!
Comlink – Generally four large square buttons and one smaller one (live action has more buttons). They also have comlinks in their helmets. Wookieepedia mentioned that they used wrist comms in the show so that the audience could clearly see when characters were talking to each other. Possibly used for long-range communication, whereas the ones in the buckets could be for shorter range?
Life support/those box things on their back – I have no idea what they’re actually called but these also have different designs for Phase I and II. On stormtroopers they contain a power pack and a small oxygen supply, and I guess it’s reasonable to assume that they have the same life support function for clone troopers. Also read somewhere that they have comlink scanner for long-range communication?
Thermal detonator – why would they all have bombs on their back? Seems unsafe. Also I don’t think I’ve ever seen one used? Idk. These things confuse me.
community bits that deserve more love 🥰
Asian population studies when Annie is like change the subject and Chang goes CHANG the subject !!!!!!! And u realise he has been up there the Entire time
Jeff singing the song from ghost from outside the pottery class
The weird noise the Dean makes when Shirley is giving birth
Brittas dorky Halloween costumes like babe I love u
The continual shut up Leonard run
The bit where Chang is like to britta don’t wear as much lipstick as you did on Valentine’s Day it makes your mouth look like a coin purse then when it’s all tense because britta has just declared she loves Jeff and Chang is like brittas hey britta ur lipstick looks better
In dungeons and dragons when Jeff is like i can fix this,I’ll find a fatter neal
Abed whole build up of a story about going to cougar town and they way he ends it so solemnly with I pooped my pants
Abeds face when him and Jeff have “ a real conversation” and he realises oh no Jeff is mentally unstable
Th Dean walking up to Annie and handing her the orange and she is like what’s this and he goes scene four
Troy and abed having a pierces mom memorial tunnel in their blanket fort
Abeds hair flick when he was dressed as Jesus at the study group table
The way the professor professorson was like just talk to your father Craig
Pierce giving Gilbert a gun in the video game episode to kill their father
The whole bare naked ladies fight in early 21st century romanticism
The hobgoblin interrogation scene in the second dungeons and dragon episode
Abed giving Troy all the cups and blankets in the ass crack bandit episode
The deans map in the kfc spaceship episode where he has like rated or recorded in some way his hookups idk what exactly it was but it was funny
Baby boomer Santa song I honestly think that was the best original song to come out of community but that’s just me
The way britta was like OMG I know what we need to do you need to bang that kids mom and the way her and Jeff got so excited for it
Abed and Annie’s weird cow handshake coz they’re adorable
When annie is like minuses are made up and neal pushes the book trolley over and like how fuckin QUICKLY they descended into a riot like green dale is always one breath away from going absolutely batshit insane and I love them for it
When Chang kidnaps those kids and is like I am NUTS Jeff get with the program
The s5 finale when brittas is like hey Chang become a bad guy again and he attempts to rip his face off and he is like I guess it’s not more complicated than that and he is like I think I’m just mentally ill
it's messy inside, let me take your coat
Summary: “I can make you a drink,” you offer, leaning against the doorframe to your bedroom with your arms crossed over your chest, staring at him, “or I can come over there and you can kiss me drunk instead, ‘cause I’m already halfway there.”
Characters: Bucky Barnes/Plus-sized (f)Reader
Warnings: 18+ (mentions of smut, female nudity), strong language, alcohol consumption, copious amounts of fluff, soft and nervous Bucky Barnes, original female character friends, one-night stand, body insecurity, anxiety
Word Count: 8723
A/N: This story was written for @eurynome827 and her 2k follower challenge with the prompt "Mimosas and Bloody Marys at brunch." Thank you for hosting and congrats again on your milestone!
main masterlist | AO3
The flutes clink together, orange juice sloshing and spilling and dripping down the glasses and onto the table as your giggles fade into the background noise of the café’s patio. You tip your head back as you drink, mimosas bubbly in your throat like your own happiness, threatening to pour out of you and dribble onto your shirt, already tipsy.
“God,” Carissa says, throwing herself back into the metal chair, “I cannot wait to have his babies.”
Beside her, Kora claps. “I can’t wait to be an aunt! I’m going to spoil them all so rotten you’re going to want to throttle me by the end of it.”
“Spoil them all you want, I’m having eight of ‘em.”
At that, you go ahead and polish off your drink, carbonation stinging your throat, and while you set the empty glass down your hand goes up in the air, signaling the waiter for another.
Sara points at you. “I’m with her.” She makes a face at Carissa. “If you have eight kids I will make like your dad and bounce.”
Kora slaps her on the knee but the four of you descend into laughter anyway, and it’s easy and light and beautiful, like always. Washington D.C. can be pretty in this way—iron-wrought fencing and fancy metal tables and red patio tiling. Good food, better mimosas, best friends. There’s a breeze in the air that’s calling for autumn, scattering cloth napkins sitting in laps and spreading the scent of fresh baked bread.
The bags at your feet carrying your new shoes for the winter wedding that’s approaching rustle. That feeling isn’t just D.C. It’s excitement and love and adoration, too.
Carissa, bride to be, catches you in her gaze. “When are you going to finally settle down, huh?” She gestures across the table at you with her half-filled mimosa. Everyone else looks at you too, waiting for your response.
You shrug. “You’re having plenty of babies, I don’t need any.”
“I don’t mean babies,” she says. “I mean a human, a connection, something that isn’t an empty apartment.”
“You need—no, you deserve—someone to take care of you!” Kora adds. “You’re always taking care of everyone. Don’t you want someone to, y’know, take care of you?”
“I have plenty of vibrators in my empty apartment.”
Sara snorts, covering her mouth. The waiter delivers another round, thank god.
“What do you want me to say?” you ask, sighing. “You’re just bothering me ‘cause it’s wedding season and you want to set me up with your weird—”
“He’s not weird,” Carissa interrupts. “He’s tall and he’s mysterious which is exactly your type.”
“She’ll find someone when the time is right,” Sara says. “Just ‘cause we’re happy with our boyfriends doesn’t mean she needs one to be happy.”
“Thank you, Sara, my one-true-best-friend-in-the-whole-wide-world.” You force your glass against hers in a loud clank, turning the heads of all the patrons on the café’s patio before taking a gulp. Your face is already getting a little hot, the alcohol hitting you. This is why you aren’t allowed to pregame before you go to brunch anymore.
“We’re not trying to force you,” Kora starts, but her mouth is pulled into a concerned frown. “We really do just want you to be as happy as we are, that’s all.”
You smile at her. “I know.”
And you do know. You understand. It’s been years now since you’ve had anything real—anything worthwhile, to be specific. At some point, the relationships slowed down. Boyfriends became friends with benefits when you were working on your masters. Friends with benefits became ignored booty calls at two in the morning when you started your dissertation, on the road to get your doctorate. Now, you’re lucky to go home with someone from the bar, and they never, ever, come home with you.
It’s okay. You aren’t lonely. The right person just hasn’t landed in your lap, and maybe that’s kind of because it’s not open, but it’s just ‘cause you’re busy. You’re busy. Passionate. Need to change the world.
Love can wait.
The next mimosa is finished and you’re feeling a little fuzzy.
“I’m happy for you,” you tell Carissa. “I’m happy for all of you, and I’m happy with my life, and I’m happy that we’re all together and we’re celebrating and I’m happy that you all care about me enough to worry but I’m perfectly fine with how things are.”
Carissa smiles, but it’s got too much teeth. “I could set you up with Kie—”
“No, no setting me up with Kieran or Harry or Josh or anyone. But especially not Kieran.”
You’d already fucked him once and it wasn’t worth the experience.
“Fine! Fine.” Carissa busies herself with her drink. “No setting you up with Kieran.”
“Good. Now let’s talk about the reception!” You pull out your phone and open the planning spreadsheet, smiling. “So I called the venue for you about the tables…”
This is easier. Planning Carissa’s wedding, helping support her, being excited for her—that’s easier than talking about your love life. If anything, this is your love life. Taking care of the people you love, your best friends, having fun and being together and romanticizing the time you spend with them. It’s not just mimosas over brunch and a green spreadsheet for wedding planning. With them, it’s the wind in your hair and the sun making your eyes sparkle and the alcohol making all your insides feel effervescent.
It’s love. It’s perfection. It’s your own brand of happiness.
And sure, maybe it’s a little defensive, but this is easier than loving someone and trying to make them love you. It’s easier.
“Whose dress are we still waiting on?” Carissa asks a little later, mouth full of avocado and bacon and looking very un-bridely.
“Mine,” Kora says, a little guiltily. “It’s at the tailor getting taken in—again.”
“I have mine,” you pipe up, wiping your mouth of jam. “And god, do I look like a full course Michelin star meal in that piece. Like, we’re talking ass for days, legs for days, tits for—”
“Excuse me, ma’am, excuse me.” A man, towering over the café table makes himself known, dressed in dark clothes and wearing a look on his visage that you can’t name.
“—days,” you finish, swallowing hard.
“Excuse me, I don’t mean to interrupt,” he says with a smile, “but I’m raising money for uh, breast cancer awareness, and I was hoping you would donate and sign up for uh, a marathon we’re doing.”
You blink. “Sorry,” you tell him, “but we don’t carry cash on us.” With a small smile, you nod at him, your eyes passing over your friends and looking around the café to see if any of the other patrons have noticed what’s going on. None of them look bothered.
“Not even for breast cancer awareness? C’mon, girl.”
“We don’t carry cash,” Sara repeats with a deadpan, but her eyes don’t meet his.
He doesn’t look at her either, content to stare at you, and your skin crawls.
“What about signing up for the marathon?”
“Fine,” you snap. Anything to get him to leave you all alone. “How do I sign up?”
“You give me your phone number and I’ll text you the details.” His grin is a little wider now, edging a little closer to where you sit at the table. You’re regretting that third mimosa. You aren’t on your game. The panic running through you is covered in a champagne haze.
You scoff. “No way.” Immediately you grab your purse, digging through it, and you slam a handful of loose change onto the table in front of him. “Here—a donation. Now please leave.”
His face twists into a scowl, but he scoops the money off the table and pockets it.
“You don’t have to be such a bitch,” he suddenly says, and anger courses through you until you shoot up from your seat, chair skidding behind you. He’s tall—much taller than your short stature. But, fuck it, the alcohol’s dimming the fear and fueling the need for you to protect your friends.
When you glance over, Carissa is already gathering the bags, eyes wide. Kora has her arms wrapped around her middle, trying to make herself smaller, ready to run. Sara’s phone is in her hand, 9-1-1 already dialed.
And still, no one in the café is doing a goddamn thing.
“Excuse me?” You glare up at the man.
“I just wanted your number, you fat bitch.” He sneers. “No wonder you’ve got an attitude, you obviously don’t get laid.”
Really, you can sit there and say it isn’t the fat comment. It’s not the insult. You’re used to that, with your overly-generous curves and your soft jawline and the fact that you’re wearing a skirt showing off the cellulite running through your thighs like a creek and a crop top that lets everyone peek at your stretch marks. You’re used to it.
And, really, you could handle this better. You certainly have before ‘cause this isn’t the first time you’ve been hustled or the first time some creep has hit on you. Old men have been slapping your ass in public since you were sixteen. You’re hot, you get it. If you saw yourself on the street you’d want a piece of your own goddamn ass, too. It comes with the territory, but it’s gross. And it’s sad but you’re used to it. So it’s not him calling you a fat bitch.
It’s the comment about getting laid. It’s sore as fuck.
You grab your would-be fourth mimosa and drench him in it, the glass slipping from your fingers and shattering upon the patio’s tiled floor in an instant.
“Slut!” The man lunges for you and you jump away, bumping into the table and losing your footing. You fall to the ground as glass comes crashing down around you, spilling sweet-smelling alcohol all over you. Ouch. Your friends scream, but you can’t take your eyes off him.
And then a gleam of black and gold blurs past you and grabs the creep by his neck, throwing him down. Now, a tall, wide body dressed in a dark hoodie is blocking you, guarding you, sheltering you.
“Try it,” Mystery Savior says.
“Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit,” Carissa chants, calling your name.
Your hand is sticky when you wave her away. “Get out of here, I’m fine. Just go. I’ll meet you—meet you at Kora’s.”
“We’re not leaving you!” Sara shouts, but something, maybe adrenaline or fear or fucking champagne, is running through your blood vessels at high speed.
“Just go!” you scream back at her. “I’m not fucking kidding, go!”
Because if there is one redeemable thing about you, it’s the length you’ll go to keep the people you love safe. And Mystery Savior might have just choked a creep out for you, but he also choked a creep out for you, and that’s enough to get your heart pounding in your ears. You don’t know who the good guy is—if there even is a good guy here.
“Fuck,” the creep curses, but it comes out raspy as he grasps at his quickly bruising neck. “You’re a—” he wheezes, “—you’re a murderer!”
Mystery Savior holds up his hands, and that’s when you see it. The black and gold of a vibranium arm just peeking out of the sleeve of his hoodie.
This isn’t a murderer. Not a Mystery Savior either. This is James Bucky Barnes, the Avenger, holy shit. Definitely good guy. Probably. He’s reformed, the news talks about it.
“Caught me,” he says, voice monotone. “What are you gonna do about it?”
If you weren’t currently sprawled on the ground, covered in mimosa, and panicking wildly about whatever is unfolding right in front of you, the very buzzed part of your brain would really appreciate the smoothness of Bucky’s voice when he said that, the cool, calm, collected delivery.
You’ll file it in the back of your mind for when you go back to your empty apartment.
“That fat ass ain’t worth it,” the creep chokes out, scrambling to get up. As soon as he’s on his feet, poised to take off, Bucky moves faster than you could have imagined and grabs the guy by his shirt.
“I don’t think so, buddy.” You can’t see his face, but you think Bucky might be smiling.
A portly man, a little shorter than Bucky, pushes through the gathering crowd, eyes wide and panicked, face red, already sweating. When you glance at his golden nametag, it reads: Jason, Manager. Cool that the manager showed up this late. If Bucky hadn’t stepped in, you’d probably be in a pile of limbs on the ground by now. Also—is he going to comp your bill? ‘Cause at this point, you’re starting to think you deserve it.
Okay, not a good time to be distracted.
“Thank you for getting him, sir,” the manager says, a little breathless. “Winter Soldier, sir.”
“It’s Bucky,” he says, and then he shoves the creep toward the manager. “Not sure why you didn’t step in before he got violent.”
Exactly! Why did everyone just stand around and do nothing as some six-foot man hustled the four women sitting beside the street? You glance around again, seeing your friends have disappeared and now, both the wait staff and other café patrons, are crowded around your table. It’s a little unsettling how no one cared to even look at you until everything escalated.
As the manager grabs the creep and hauls him off toward the street to wait for the cops, Bucky Barnes relaxes his shoulders and turns toward you slowly, and it’s—well, for lack of a better word—it’s beautiful. He’s beautiful.
He looks nothing like the superhero in the pictures. Here, with the D.C. sun hitting him unabashedly, his slate eyes like glass marbles, the lines surrounding them wrinkled in concern, his tongue darting between his lips to wet the skin where his teeth bite down, a habitual sore, his short locks ruffled by the breeze or maybe the fight or maybe he just wakes up perfectly rumpled, here he looks like a man.
“You okay?” he asks, somehow nonchalant and still worried, and he holds out a calloused hand to you.
Or, well, maybe Bucky had been watching. And maybe that’s enough.
God, you don’t even know this man outside of his Avenger persona, the headlines you read on the news, the pictures you see on social media, but there’s just something about him that makes you want to trust him. Like he guarantees safety, and you know that no one, least of all an Avenger, can guarantee safety. Even if that’s their job.
Stop feeling safe around him.
But you take his hand anyway, his long, thick fingers folding over your own like he means to swallow them, and Bucky pulls you up as though you weigh nothing. In fact, he does it so easily that you crash straight into him with a yelp and his arms instantly slide around your waist to catch you as your knees go weak, buckling beneath you.
When you look up at him, your hands trying to find purchase in the material of his hoodie, he’s staring down at you with the hint of a smile.
“Thanks,” you say, quiet and a little stunned.
His lips crack a little wider. “No problem.”
For a few seconds longer than deemed socially appropriate, you stare at Bucky, captured by the changing color of his blue-gray eyes. And then, as if god is slapping you on the back of your head, you blink and remember that you are covered in alcohol and currently pressed against the chest of a superhero, and your eyes go wide as you quickly push away from him.
“Oh god, I’m so sorry,” you tell him. “I’m disgusting—you probably have orange juice all over you now, fuck.”
“Hey,” he says, his flesh hand wrapping around your upper arm to steady you, “it’s okay. Seriously though, are you alright?”
You open your mouth to say something and then shut it again when you realize nothing sounds like the right answer. Bucky waits patiently though, peering down at you, his grip a little more grounding than you wish it was.
“Yes?” you say, but it sounds like a question. “I mean, maybe? I’m—It’s not like I’m not used to this happening. I’ll be fine.”
Bucky frowns. “Used to it?”
You shrug. “Not all men are superheroes. Most don’t have good intentions. And I’m not even that pretty, can you imagine what other women deal with?”
It slips out before you realize it, the self-hatred you keep at bay.
“Not pretty?” Bucky’s face twists into something confused. “That guy assaulted you just to get your number. I’m not saying it’s right, but if you think you aren’t pretty, well that’s just wrong.”
Oh god, what are you supposed to say now? So stupid. If you had just kept your mouth shut, you wouldn’t have forced an Avenger—a really fucking hot Avenger—to give you an awkward compliment and now you have to scramble to figure out what to say. If you deny the compliment, you’ll look ungrateful. If you accept the compliment, that’s too egotistical. Too into yourself.
You’ve backed yourself into a corner here, and Bucky’s on the other side of the ring.
“Look,” he interrupts your inner monologuing, running a hand through his hair and glancing away, “if you don’t mind me saying it, you’re—well—you’re gorgeous. I hope you know that.”
Your mouth falls open and you stare at him, nervous energy radiating off him, and when his eyes shift back to yours he coughs.
“I mean, don’t take that the wrong way. I’m not—I’m not trying to hit on you after what just happened, I promise.” His eyes go wide, then, and he throws his hands out in front of him in a placating gesture. “That’s not to say I’m not! Not hitting on you. I mean, shit, I just think you’ve gotta be the most beautiful dame—woman, sorry—that I’ve seen in years.”
There’s something soft about it, something sweetly suffocating, like buttercream frosting in the back of your throat, about his nervousness. The gentle panic, the way his eyes go back and forth from the ground at your feet to your eyes like he’s checking to make sure he hasn’t said the wrong thing, but he just keeps putting his foot in his mouth like it’s a magnet to metal. It’s endearing. It’s real.
“Do you want to get a drink with me?” you blurt out, and Bucky blanches. “I know it’s only, like, noon but I need a drink. And I owe you. For saving me.”
He relaxes at this, another one of those small smiles easing its way onto his face, and his shoves his hands into his pockets like he wasn’t just panicking two seconds ago about calling you a dame, which if anyone else had done, you would have socked them in the mouth, but he’s like one-hundred-and-six or something and you kinda get it.
“The drinks you’re wearing ain’t enough, doll?”
A laugh breaks from your mouth and he lights up, grinning.
“Oh, that’s how it’s gonna be?” You can’t help the smile splitting your own lips. “Sure, make fun of the girl who just got hustled, easy prey.”
The way he looks at you is burning.
“I’m Bucky,” he says. “James Bucky Barnes.”
“I know,” you say with a laugh. When you give him your name, he almost looks like he wants to try it out, but he keeps it on his tongue like he’s tasting it instead.
“So, a drink?” he asks, a little cautiously.
“I’d like that.” Then, you look down and curse. “But I’m gross. I really need to go home and change.”
Bucky nods, but a look of disappointment crosses his face, there and then gone again, just enough to make your heart tighten into a painful brick weight atop your chest. Everything in your brain is saying no, don’t do it, don’t do it. But your heart hurts and it hurts for him, a man you’ve only met in news articles and awkward interviews until now, when he’s saved you from being slapped around by some creep or worse, and god, you have such a soft heart sometimes and it’s gotten you in trouble before but you can’t just ignore it.
“Do you like Bloody Marys?”
His eyes meet yours again and you’re drawn into the storm that swirls in his irises once again.
“Never had one,” he admits. “They don’t look much like a drink.”
“Well, if you’re interested, I have the stuff to make a really good one at home. And then I could change and clean up a little and still y’know, thank you for saving my life? I mean it’s not much, but—”
“Yes,” he says, his voice as sure and steady as it was earlier when he was in hero mode. “That sounds great.”
Oh, you’re fucked. You’re so fucked.
The walk back to your apartment isn’t uncomfortable, but it’s not easy. Bucky walks beside you like a forcefield, using his body to guide you through the throng of people walking along the streets without even touching you. He reminds you of a sheepdog. The thought almost makes you laugh more than a few times during your stroll.
He walks with his hands in his pockets most of the way, especially his metal one. And he isn’t much of a talker, not that you mind as long as he keeps answering the questions you’re asking him, like what kind of food he likes and what he thinks about sphynx cats and if he likes memes—of which his answers consist of anything, what the hell is that and why is it naked, and a resounding yes.
Bucky asks some of his own questions, though they are few and far between and a lot more cohesive and meaningful than your own. He asks about how long you’ve lived in Washington D.C., about what you do for a living, and about your friends.
“Why did they leave you there?” He’s staring at you when he asks, brows sharp and furrowed.
“Because I told them to,” you answer. “I didn’t want them to get hurt or anything. And I’m kind of the person that if I’m yelling, you better listen ‘cause I’m usually yelling for a good reason.”
He nods like he understands, but his lips are pressed flat. “They shouldn’t have left you.”
You shrug. “I wanted them to. I would’ve been more pissed if they hadn’t run off and gotten tangled up in the middle of everything.”
“You’re a good person,” he says, still looking at you. His face is softer, that hint of a curve in his mouth the only sign that anything’s changed.
You give him your own smile. “Maybe.”
It’s only once you get to the front door of your apartment that things shift and your stomach rolls, heavy and fluttering light all at once, a not-so-familiar-anymore anxiety chilling your skin. The keys in your hand jingle and you aren’t sure if it's because your fingers are shaking or not.
“It’s not much,” you say, beckoning him inside, “but y’know, it’s enough for me.”
Bucky steps through the door with a reverence, a caution, a carefulness that strikes you right in the heart. He looks out of place for a minute, like he’s never entered an apartment before. And then, as you kick off your shoes, losing the extra inch of height, smiling and gesturing for him to do the same, there’s something in him that snaps and bends and his shoulders fall, relaxed.
He toes off his boots, leaving them by the door, and suddenly there’s a different air in the apartment. Almost intimate. Comfortable.
Stop it. You don’t even know him.
“Make yourself at home. Can I get you anything? A glass of water or something?”
Bucky shakes his head as he follows behind you, slowly, his eyes roaming over your space. It’s really not much, you know that. A little more than a box with a bathroom and a bedroom attached, what with the living room and the kitchen being “open-concept,” a word you’re pretty sure was invented to sell tiny apartments for more money. You don’t even have a table to sit at—just a couch to plunk down on while you’re eating.
“I’m alright, doll,” he says, running a hand over the soft cushions of said couch. “You go change, I’m fine.”
As soon as you disappear into your bedroom, the door locked behind you, you lean against the wood and let out a sigh. This is awkward. What the fuck were you thinking? Asking an Avenger—Bucky Barnes—back to your apartment for a drink? A bloody mary? Who are you trying to kid?
It’s been years, literal years since you’ve invited anyone back to your apartment. In fact, you don’t think anyone besides your friends has even stepped foot inside. Maybe they haven’t even made it to the door.
Why would you invite him here?
In frustration, you strip your dirty shirt off and throw it onto the floor, shimmy-ing out of your skirt and kicking it toward the hamper just as well. You sort through your drawers, looking for something comfortable to throw on. Or maybe you should wear something nice? Something that looks similar to what you wore to brunch. But Bucky’s dressed in jeans and a hoodie. But he also looks like a modern god in just that.
Fuck. You are fucked. Why did you ask him back to your place for a drink? What did you think would happen?
You throw an old band t-shirt over your head and pull a black pair of loose shorts up over your hips, cursing when you realize they don’t even hit mid-thigh. Does that seem suggestive? Is Bucky going to think you want to fuck him if you walk out in these?
Do you want to fuck Bucky?
No. No. This is not what this is about. You invited him over because you owed him a drink and because you needed to change and because he seemed so damn sad when you said you couldn’t go out for a drink. So you asked him to come home with you. Oh, god, that’s so complicated. What have you gotten yourself into?
Stop. Just stop thinking.
But—you have to admit it to yourself—you want it. You want him.
Your friends’ earlier words repeat in your head. A human, a connection, something that isn’t an empty apartment. They aren’t wrong for thinking that it’s something you want. For most of your life, you’ve lived thinking that you shouldn’t need someone. But isn’t it okay to want someone? You’re tired of being alone. Bucky Barnes is the first man that’s been in your empty apartment since you moved in, and maybe it’s a bold move, but you know what?
You throw yourself out of your bedroom, probably looking a little too frazzled, and you quickly comb your fingers through your hair as nonchalantly as possible to fix the flyaways. Bucky’s sitting on your couch, looking lonely, his hands rigid on his spread knees.
He looks like he fits there, on your sofa, in your empty apartment.
“Look,” you say in a breath, catching his attention. When he looks at you, his eyes sweep over your body like he’s never seen a woman before; shy, timid, a little nervous, but there’s something else there. It’s the same thing that’s heating your insides right now.
“I can make you a drink,” you offer, leaning against the doorframe to your bedroom with your arms crossed over your chest, staring at him, “or I can come over there and you can kiss me drunk instead, ‘cause I’m already halfway there.”
Bucky’s eyes widen for a fraction of a second, and then a cocky grin is curling his lips up, his face brightening the entire apartment. You don’t know if your body is warm because you’re embarrassed at your own daring or because Bucky Barnes is so beautiful it’s criminal, but you know that there’s static and stretch in your limbs and desire pooling in your belly. Liquor and lust are chasing away whatever fears you had before.
“Really?” he asks, but there’s a teasing lilt to his voice that reminds you of what a fucking flirt he is, or that he can be, and you think butterflies might be taking up residence in your tummy.
“Really,” you mimic, wearing your own charmed smile. Bucky lets his head fall to the side as he looks over you, then crooks one metal finger at you, beckoning you to join him on the couch. With as much confidence as you can muster, you stride toward him, putting a little swing in your steps. Maybe you look crazy doing it, but it’s enough that his eyes flicker down to watch your hips, and it sends a thrill through you.
“This isn’t like me,” you tell him as you sink down beside him, as close as possible while still giving him space to bolt if he needs to. “I don’t invite strangers over to my house like this.”
He smiles and it’s warm and big and easy. “I’m glad you did,” he says.
God, his eyes are pretty. “Me too.”
With Bucky’s thigh pressed against yours, his hand resting dangerously close to one of your bare knees, knuckles brushing your skin every time he shifts, you’re melting into his touch and you don’t care. It’s intoxicating—not the alcohol, which you swear should be wearing off by now, but him.
“I don’t do this often,” you say again, like you need to defend your bold behavior.
“Does that mean I’m special?”
“I think so,” you murmur, only loud enough for him to hear being this close.
Kinder than you thought possible, somehow simultaneously suave but still a little nervous, and yet authentic to a fault, Bucky Barnes is a thousand and one contradictions. Nothing like you ever thought he’d be. And maybe that’s what gives you the courage, the thought that someone so hardened could be so soft. That someone who looks like him, chiseled and striking and like a charcoal sketching on stark paper, could turn red at your innuendos and your charmed quips. That there’s a chance he could be attracted to you.
This—This is the connection you’ve been waiting for. The person who makes you feel like this. Tipsy when you shouldn’t be tipsy anymore.
“I know we barely know each other, but I really, really want you, Bucky.”
Your shoulder is pressed to his shoulder, your chest nearing his chest, your chin tipped up to stare at his eyes, his nose, his parted lips. Bucky stares down at you, his Adam’s apple dipping and bobbing as he swallows hard. Your lips curl, threatening to giggle. He’s so damn cute. How can someone like him, an Avenger, a super soldier, look so cute?
But the hand at your knee finally creeps up your skin, his hot palm glossing over your bare thigh, resting a little higher than a friendly touch would go. He presses indents—not too hard, but not too soft—into your plush, silken flesh.
“You do?” he asks, tongue darting out to wet his lip and you want to follow it back into his mouth with your own.
To answer, you push closer, your hand coming up to drape across his neck, a little off-balance as you sit up on your knees.
“Mhm,” you hum, and that’s all he needs to grasp your thigh roughly and drag you over him, seating you upon his lap as a squeak of surprise flies from your lips. His hands fall to your hips as if your body was made for him to hold and suddenly you’re looking down at him and he’s looking up at you instead, and god, he’s staring at you like you’re heaven and earth and everything he ever needed to be saved.
“I want you too,” he says, exhaling as if you’ve stolen all the air in his lungs.
“Then will you finally kiss me?” Your nose brushes his and his breath ghosts over your mouth.
Bucky’s lips surge up to meet yours, swallowing the last sounds of your words like it’s the first drink of water he’s had in years, cool and refreshing and tinged with smoke, something uniquely him.
As your hands thread through his short locks, desperate to hold onto him in any way, his fingers begin to curve over your ass. You rock into him, pressing against him harder, sucking at his plush lips as his tongue skims over your top lip until you grant him entry. Bucky kisses like he’s trying to taste every single part of you and it sends waves of pleasure through your belly and to your core, where you grind down until you feel his hardening length beneath you.
Immediately, you start to strip him of his hoodie, divesting him of that layer to feel the soft shirt beneath—but only barely because it’s hell trying to pull his hands away from where they’re touching you.
And he’s touching you everywhere. His fingers roam over every generous piece of your body. The silken planes of your thighs where he’s pushed your shorts up, the wide canyons of your hips, the bumpy hills of your waist where your stomach is too big and too soft and where he slips his mismatched hands under your shirt to trace the lines of your stretch marks. It isn’t long until he brushes by the band of your bra and then he’s tugging at the hem of the shirt, pulling away from your lips long enough to rid you of it.
You take the moment to rid him of his too, and then you’re both topless, still sitting atop his lap and panting from lack of air. No words are shared between you before Bucky is capturing your mouth again. It’s only passion, frenzied and hot and wanting.
His fingers fumble with the hooks of your bra blindly as your teeth sink into his bottom lip, nipping and giggling and tangling your tongue around his. As soon as you hear the snap, you lean back and Bucky pulls it off you, flinging the offending garment somewhere else in the apartment.
Now, with your naked chest completely bared to him, you wait for it to happen. For his eyes to dart away, for the apprehension to cross his features, for the disgust to set it. The real reason that it’s been so long since you’ve invited someone into your empty apartment—into your empty life.
Like you’re expecting the blow, you close your eyes and brace yourself, but you don’t cover up. You’ve learned not to cover up. You refuse to make yourself smaller, or prettier, or more tolerable for people. It’s why you don’t get entangled with one-night stands anymore, why you don’t ask strangers to come home with you, why you don’t let your girlfriends set you up with anyone. Because you refuse to make yourself something you’re not just to fit in, and that’s what always, always ends up happening.
Bucky touches you and it makes you flinch, his vibranium fingers a little chilly against the soft, warm skin of your stomach. He touches you and it’s electric, but you don’t open your eyes.
You’re too afraid to look and see the disappointment in his gorgeous blues.
His hands skim over your rib cage, sliding around the sides of your waist, his thumbs grazing the undersides of your breasts. You shiver at the contact. He continues his trail upwards, but then he lays his palms on your shoulders and caresses over your neck, his fingers finally finding the edge of your soft jaw to cradle your face. A shaky breath leaves you.
“Look at me,” he whispers, closer than you thought.
And no matter how much you’ll berate yourself over it later, there is something so safe about Bucky Barnes that your lashes flutter and your eyes open, and he’s right there, right there in front of you, staring at you with those stormy sea eyes half-lidded and glazed over with lust, his pink lips parted in awe, and you gasp at the intensity that strikes right through the center of you.
“You’re…” he trails off, swallowing nervously again. “Doll, I don’t think I know a word in English that describes you.”
Bucky presses forward, his chest brushing against your hardened nipples, stealing your breath and then sealing your lips with a kiss that isn’t like before. This kiss isn’t needy or wanting or filled with teeth and tongue and desperation. This time, his mouth moves with yours as if he’s trying to spell out a thousand words in twenty different languages to tell you how he feels, his lips leading yours in a dance that isn’t worried about an audience or the music or if you step on his toes.
When he pulls away, you wonder if your mouth is as swollen as his.
“You’re perfect,” he says with a finality in his tone that almost makes you collapse into his arms.
Then, Bucky wastes no time and captures a nipple in between those swollen lips, causing you to let out an embarrassingly loud noise in surprise. His metal hand finds your other breast, thumb stroking over the bud until you’re arching further into him. As his tongue traces patterns around one nipple, his fingers tweak and twist and pull its sister, and your hands grasp his broad shoulders in an attempt to hold on.
Finally, he presses gentle kisses over your rosy buds, all worn out by his touches, and then circles your breasts with more kitten licks and grazes of his teeth. Bucky’s hands settle at your hips again, fingers grasping your skin like he can’t get enough of the feel of you. He’s trying to imprint your body on his palms.
“I need to have you, doll,” he says all breathy as if he isn’t the one absolutely drenched right now. “Please. Please,” he asks so softly that you wonder if this is the man who even came to your rescue today, all tall and brooding. When you grind down on his lap again, feeling his hard cock beneath his jeans as he lets out a groan and tightens his grip on your waist, you realize you’re not the only one feeling the tension.
Still, there’s something cheeky left in you and you reach out to swipe your finger across his nose, effectively booping it cutely. A grin splits your lips.
“You need me?” you ask teasingly. “What if I need you instead?”
It’s like it sets something ablaze in him or something, ‘cause as soon as you go in for another kiss, Bucky stands up from the couch, his hands cradling your ass as you shriek and wrap your legs around him in reflex.
“Oh my god—”
“Now you’ve done it,” he grunts, burying his face in your neck to pepper kisses all over the stretch of skin that encompasses your shoulder, your jawline, even up into your hairline by your ear.
“Oh my god, put me down Bucky, I’m—you’re gonna drop me, I’m too heavy!”
“Heavy?” He chuckles against your throat and the vibrations almost make you shudder in pleasure. God, what is this man doing to you? “Darlin’, I don’t think you know the meaning of heavy.”
Bucky flashes you a wide, almost predatory grin, and you wonder where that soft, nervous boy went.
“If I wanted to,” he says, his voice low and steady, “I could fuck you right here, in the middle of the room, for hours.” He must feel the shiver that goes through your entire body because he’s laughing again. “But I want to fuck you into your mattress if that’s okay. Can I do that?”
Your throat feels dry when you whisper, “Yes. Please.”
He punctuates your plea with a heated kiss to your lips, his tongue tasting the citrus and bubble from your mimosas, the alcohol long since worn off. It’s all him that you feel, all him that intoxicates you, and all him around you as he walks you into your bedroom, not even straining under your weight, and dumps you onto the middle of your sheets.
There, he cages you, hovering above you to kiss down your body, already intent on tearing your shorts off.
“Bucky,” you whine. In the afternoon light streaming through the single window in your room, his eyes are a startling color you wish you could name, all clear and confident and crystal and god, god, his fingers are already exploring the slit of your core so lightly it makes you flush and want to hide, your inner thighs sticky and coated in your own slick from how hot he’s made you with such simple touches.
“You want me?” he asks as if he doesn’t know.
“Yes,” you hiss in pleasure, body writhing beneath him. Bucky leans down to kiss the shell of your ear, his tongue blazing a hot trail that makes you moan and buck your hips up to meet his, but he won’t have any of that.
“Good,” he says, “‘cause I need to have you, and I don’t plan on letting you go ‘till I’ve gotten everything you’ve got to give, doll.”
That nervous Bucky, all awkward smiles and panicked glances and sweet lines, he’s gone. In his place is this Bucky, assured and charming and suave and smooth and making your eyes roll back into your head until a scream is threatening to burst from your lips unless he swallows it with his own kiss, which he does, over and over again.
“I’m gonna ravage you, darlin’.”
You aren’t sure which one you like better—but is it greedy to say both?
As the light of a new day spreads through your apartment, you awaken easily, softly, but painfully. Someone’s pulled the blankets up to your chin and tucked them around you, and the thought leaves an empty feeling inside of you. When you stretch, every part of you burns deliciously, a memory from the hours spent in bed, on the couch, on the fucking counter after you’d eaten and he still wasn’t satisfied, and then again in bed.
And now, looking over at the space beside you, he’s gone. His clothes are gone from the floor. There’s no sound echoing in the building. He even left you tucked in, for god’s sake.
Your apartment is just as it always has been—empty.
With a groan, you kick the covers off and plant your feet on the floor, willing yourself to get up. The ache in your muscles is nothing more than a pleasant memory, an unpleasant reminder of the marks he left on you, his absence.
Stop it. You shouldn’t have even gotten attached to him in the first place. You knew what this was, and he did too, and it’s no wonder he’s gone this morning.
Get over it.
You swipe an oversized shirt from your dresser and throw it over your head as you stride out toward the kitchen, content to go pantyless for the day after the abuse you put it through last night. Yawning, your eyes screwed shut in another big stretch to warm up your overused muscles, you hear him before you see him.
Like that, your eyes snap open and he’s there, standing in your tiny kitchen in nothing but last night’s boxers, looking fucking glorious in the spotlight of the warm sun that’s streaming through the room and highlighting the counters.
“Bucky?” you ask, but it’s a little loud and a little shrieking, something you don’t intend. But all he does is smile at you, metal fingers tapping the plastic countertop, so at ease he just looks like he belongs there.
“I thought I’d make you breakfast but you have nothing in your fridge,” he jokes, leaning back against the drawers and crossing his arms over his bare chest.
You shift, embarrassed, looking anywhere but at him. “Yeah, I need to go shopping.”
A long stretch of silence fills your apartment and you’re unsure of what to say in order to break it. Bucky’s clearly watching you, drinking in the sight of your love-marked body, bruises peeking out of the hem of your shirt that barely skims past the tops of your thighs, and you remember you’re wearing nothing underneath.
And he’s here, right here, and you really aren’t sure why. It seems the two of you have almost switched places. Where Bucky was nervous and shy at first, he’s now confident and comfortable and you’re left with heated cheeks and a tongue-tied in knots. Whatever boldness that came over you all yesterday has fled.
It’s left a deep pocket of insecurity inside of you.
“Why are you still here?” you ask, trying to sound as nonchalant as possible, like you don’t care, but your voice shakes a little. He’s too far away to really tell, but you think a flash of hurt passes over Bucky’s brow.
“‘Cause you still owe me a drink,” he says as if it's obvious, a small smile still sitting so prettily on his mouth.
You blink, a little confused, but shuffle closer. “Bloody Mary?”
“Yeah,” he says with a deep breath, his grin growing bigger the closer that you come toward him. “Will you still make me one?”
You nod, toes finally crossing into the kitchen, and then you and Bucky are staring at each other. There are scratches left like the bones of a graveyard on his arms, and you’re almost sure if he turned around they’d cover his neck and back just as well. Seeing those reddened marks, similar to the bruises he’s left on you, makes you relax your shoulders just a little.
“Do you need help?” he asks, eyes sweeping over your barely covered form.
“No,” you say, heading to the kitchen which is little more than a countertop, a stove, and a fridge. “But you can keep me company.”
So this is what happens in the morning after. Bucky leans against the counter next to you, watching you with a burning intensity that nearly matches last night’s, and you pull all the ingredients out and line them up next to two glasses and try not to falter under his gaze. He looks at you like you’re this fascinating thing he needs to study and it bothers you, but only in the best of ways.
“Do you always stare this hard at your dates?” A smile plays at your lips as you crack open the tomato juice.
He doesn’t look away. “No,” he says, but he sounds unsure. “Is this a date, doll?” There’s something in his voice that you can’t figure out, faintly hopeful, fairly confused. Vaguely surprised, even.
You shrug. “Maybe.” Especially after all of yesterday, you would hope he thought so.
But Bucky shakes his head. “No.”
That hurt more than you were expecting it to. Calling yourself his date had only been a joke meant to lighten the mood, ease him up a little, cure the tension swirling in the room. You guess you should have expected it, though. You owed him a drink—he didn’t owe you a date. It wasn’t supposed to be a date, anyway.
All you had done was sleep together, for fuck’s sake. This is why you hate morning afters. This is why you would have preferred it if he had been gone when you woke.
But was that even true? Because the relief you felt when you found him waiting for you in the kitchen was immense and hard to understand.
You open the bottle of vodka a little more forcefully than you intended.
“When we go out on a real date,” he continues, and your eyes meet, “I’ll be taking you out and treating you.” A slow grin crawls over his face that reminds you of his wicked mouth and what it can do and the sight makes your heart beat and beat and beat, faster and faster, like the wings of a hummingbird, quick quick quick.
“When,” he affirms.
“That’s bold of you,” you say, popping ice cubes from a tray into the glasses.
“Maybe,” he says, “but I know what I want now.” Bucky shifts a little closer to you, his vibranium arm brushing by the bare skin of your soft one as you try and focus on not spilling the juice, but you can smell him and he smells like cedar and bergamot and smoke and clove. A smell that consumed you whole last night, surrounded you, drowned you in it.
He’s so close you can feel him inhale.
“I’ve lived a long time not knowing—not getting to decide—what I want,” he admits, his voice low and quiet and soothing your nervous heart. “So you can call it bold, but I call it right.”
The sincerity in his voice makes your hands still and you look up at him, eyes wide. In the soft white lights of your tiny kitchen, sharing the tight space with him so close, Bucky’s eyes are thunder and rain and lightning all at once, peace and chaos both, promising release and the sweet scent of earth and oil afterward.
“You don’t even know me,” you whisper.
Bucky leans closer. “But I want to.”
He’s so close, too close, close enough that he can surely hear the rhythm of your heart, unsteady and racing just for him. You could surge forward and kiss him, stake your claim once again on those pinkened lips that have held your attention from the first time you saw them, feel the stubble of his jaw rub against the soft peach fuzz of your own, let it remind you of how it felt against the apex of your thighs as he made you cry out over and over again, breaking on his tongue over and over again.
It makes you feel dizzier than any alcohol ever could.
But Bucky reaches over, past you, and takes one of the glasses from your hand, warm fingers brushing over your cooler ones. He holds it up, toward you, gesturing for a toast. With a swallow, hardly glancing away from his slate eyes to grab the other glass, you tap your Bloody Mary against his with a soft clink.
He watches you over the rim as he takes his first sip and you think he might be smirking. Then, he darts toward you and takes your lips in his own, tasting of spice and tomato juice and perfection, all Bucky, all for you.
When he pulls away, too quickly, he rests his forehead against your and looks down at you, staring into your hazy eyes.
“Will you let me stay?” he asks, like he doesn’t know what you’ll say. The soft, nervous Bucky is peeking out from behind his confident visage once again, his voice hopeful and frightened and the hand that’s gliding beneath your shirt and over your waist more timid than it was last night.
There’s a million things you can say. You can tell him to take you out to brunch instead. You can tell him you’re too busy. You can tell him that this was a one-night stand, it was only ever meant to be a one night stand, and that it was fun but you can’t afford to get attached to him and god, you know you’re going to get attached to him if he stays and that scares the ever-living fuck out of you. You can tell him that it’s messy here, inside your empty apartment, inside your empty heart. You can tell him that he could take up residence here. You can tell him so, so many things.
“Yes,” you say instead, and Bucky laughs against your mouth when he kisses you hard once more.
Pretty in Pink - Blurb
Summary: Spencer gets a wardrobe change after being a brat in the office
Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader
Warnings: 18+, degradation, slapping, sub!spencer wearing panties, handjob, edging, public sex, mommy kink
Word Count: 828
A/N: I just can't get enough of Spencer in panties. Like I seriously can't get enough, here's part 2!
Before the elevator doors opened you gave Spencer very explicit instructions. “Listen to me, baby. I have a lot of paperwork to do so I need you to be good today and leave me to do my work. Can you do that for me?”
He nodded yes, sipping on the sugary coffee you made him that morning. Smiling, you smoothed out a wrinkle in his cardigan. “That’s my sweet boy. Keep being good and I might have a reward for you tonight”
He perked up at that. “I’ll be so good. I promise”
It took Spencer less than 30 minutes to break his promise. He had finished his paperwork at lightning speed, getting through his stack of files before you were even halfway through one expense report. But the boredom set in immediately.
He tried to be good but nothing seemed to be able to distract him. He spun around in his chair, played chess against himself, made three cups of coffee (none as good as yours) but his eyes kept wandering over to you. You shot him a pointed look every time you caught him staring, not able to work with his eyes on you. He knew better than to ask if you needed help, knowing that you would send him away with a glare but surely he could sneak a few files off your desk. He was a magician after all.
And it almost worked. He had four files stashed in his cardigan when you cleared your throat. “Spencer Walter Reid. Put those files back where they were before I make you.”
He had never run faster in his life, scrambling to return the papers to their original spot and string together an apology. “I’m sorry. I just - I wanted to help”
“Oh really?” You took hold of his arm and dragged him down the hall and into an empty file room, thankful that Derek and Emily were too preoccupied with playing a prank on Anderson to witness this. “You know what I think? I think that you’re so desperate to get fucked that you’ll do absolutely anything, even something as stupid as trying to steal my files right in front of me. Did you really think I wouldn’t notice?”
“No! I-I thought - I don’t know -” he stammered wildly, swallowing hard when the door swung shut behind you.
“That’s the problem, baby. You’ve got too much going on in that pretty little head of yours. You can’t even follow simple directions. But don’t worry, I know exactly what to do.” You took a step towards him, smiling wickedly. “I’m gonna fuck you dumb. You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”
Spencer sucked in a sharp breath, automatically nodding in agreement. He loved it when you got like this - anger settling into a calm façade. You hadn’t even touched him and he was already close. You gestured to his pants. “Take these off”
He pushed his pants and underwear down without hesitation and you tugged them all the way off, pushing him onto a vacant desk. He gasped softly at the cold wooden surface and tried not to think of its bacterial content. Not that he could think of anything when you wrapped a hand around his cock. You stroked him slowly, running the pad of your thumb over his aching tip until he was a whimpering mess. “Mommy, please. I’m going to -”
You pulled away sharply and his pleading dissolved into a whine. His hips thrusted forward of their own accord and you took a step back to watch him, frustrated and needy. You snapped him out of the haze brought on by his denied release by trailing your hands up and under your skirt, hooking your fingers into your panties and sliding them off. Spencer couldn’t conceal his excitement, beaming up at you in anticipation. Sometimes being a brat paid off.
However, much to his chagrin, you made no move to join him on the desk. Instead, you bent down slightly and pulled the panties up his legs, signaling him to lift his hips with an impatient look and stretching them into place. They were light pink and trimmed with lace, constraining his cock in the most delightfully excruciating manner. He shifted about in search of a comfortable position but he only made it worse, centering the dampness of your arousal along the underside of his length and stimulating the sensitive flesh. You shuffled away, fixing your hair and adjusting your skirt back into place. “Look how pretty you are”
He could see but he could barely comprehend. All he seemed to be able to do was beg. “Please, don’t leave me like this. I’ll do anything, Mommy. I’ll be good forever, I swear”
Your response was immediate, giving his cock a swift slap over the thin fabric and eliciting a surprised yelp. “Don’t make promises you can’t keep” you hissed. “Now get dressed. You don’t even want to know what I’m gonna do to you tonight”
Wanda Maximoff x Reader
Word Count: 3121
Anon asked: Hi! I don’t know if you’re taking requests, but I love your Wanda fan fictions and I was wondering if you could write a fan fiction were the reader is an Avenger and best friends with the Maximoff twins. She and Wanda start secretly dating and Pietro often covers for them. The rest of the team sees that the three of them are acting weird and start to think that Pietro and reader are dating. I thought it would be a cute idea, but feel free to ignore this if this isn’t your style❤️
Warnings: Mentions of sex but nothing too explicit; a couple sexual innuendos…?
A/N: Not me over here ignoring my other WIPs in favor of this fluff. Also I may or may not have deviated from the original prompt buttt it’s close enough. Sorry
Taglist: @mionemymind, @supersourlemon13, @olsensnpm
“Whose underwear is this?”
Those are four commonly spoken words when multiple people living within the same space do their laundry together. Four commonly spoken words when you all took turns sorting through everyone’s clothes for your own things. But those were not four common words to be spoken on a late Saturday afternoon when no one has done laundry in over two weeks.
Wanda feels her cheeks burn when she recognizes your panties hanging from the tip of the ruler being held out by Steve. The supersoldier had a puzzled look on his face, unable to deduce why such a thing would be crammed between two seat cushions of the couch.
Memories quickly flashed through her mind. Memories of the team leaving for a mission, you and Wanda being the only two left behind. Memories of the mischievous look in your eyes as you did a strip-tease for her in the living room. Memories of you grinding yourself off on her thigh before sliding to your knees and making her see stars. Needless to say, she nearly yanked your arm off dragging you back to her room after that.
In your hurries to get there, the two of you must have accidentally missed the piece of clothing.
Pietro notices his sister’s sudden stillness and instantly connects the dots. He wants to snort. Of course the two of you couldn’t keep it in your pants. Ever since the moment he walked in on you two going at it in the gym nearly four months ago, he knew you guys had no qualms about doing the deed whenever and wherever you felt like it.
In a sense he was in awe of that ability. The ability to be so confident about doing such a scandalous thing in the open like that, while still not being able to work up enough courage to tell the rest of the team that you guys were together.
Pietro wanted to watch Wanda squirm some more, but what kind of brother would he be if he didn’t help keep her secret relationship a secret? Faking a look of shock, he takes a step towards Steve. “Oh sorry, my bad. I was looking for that.”
Steve looks taken aback at Pietro’s words. “You’re telling me that you wear black lacy panties?”
The Sokovian rolls his eyes. “Don’t be weird. It’s obviously not mine mine.”
It takes a second for his words to sink in and at once a groan could be heard by Bruce, who instantly jumps up from where he was lounging on the couch.
“Oh god, really, Pietro?” A look of disgust written plainly across his face. “We watch movies on this thing.”
Pietro shrugs, giving Bruce his best ‘sorry dude’ look.
Steve watches the exchange, confusion still present on his face. “Am I missing something?”
Bruce shakes his head, muttering an explanation to Steve as he walks past. “The underwear comes from our good boy here doing some extracurricular activities in the living room.”
“I…” Steve’s brows furrow, still having trouble keeping up with the conversation. “That still doesn’t explain why Pietro was wearing lady clothes.”
Wanda stifles a laugh behind her hands as Pietro sends her a dirty look. She can hear an annoyed Steve thinks I get off wearing feminine undergarments, you perv, ringing through her head, which only spurs on the giggles.
Thankfully Sam also takes offense to Steve’s line of thinking, but for a totally different reason. “Geez, Cap, how old are you? Bruce is saying that Pietro was knocking boots with a missus on the couch.”
“How do you lose clothing from kicking someone else’s shoes?”
“That’s not--” Sam blinks, not believing what he was hearing. “Stuffing the taco?”
“Um, again, making food doesn’t equate los--”
“The horizontal hustle.”
“Is that some sort of new dance move the kids are doing these days?”
“Sex, Steve. We’re talking about sex,” Sam finally says, throwing up his hands in defeat.
Steve’s face instantly turns red and the room bursts into laughter. “Why are there so many different ways to say that? And you,” he turns back to Pietro. “You are disgusting.”
Pietro simply shrugs again. “A guy has needs.”
“That’s no excuse for doing it on the couch! You have a room for a reason!” Sighing, Steve pinches the bridge of his nose, already regretting starting this conversation. “Just… take this and please don’t defile any more of our shared furniture.”
Pietro snatches the piece of clothing from Steve, quickly throwing a wink at his sister before speeding out of the room.
The second he was out of sight, Wanda breathed out a sigh of relief. It was getting harder to hide your relationship from everyone. It wasn’t that she was ashamed of being with you. If anything, she would love nothing more than to yell out her love for you at the top of her lungs. It was just that after her last relationship with Vision ended, the two of you decided it would probably be better to keep your relationship on the downlow and away from prying eyes. Thankfully, she had such a caring brother who was willing to cover for the two of you.
As everyone went back to whatever they were doing before Steve had asked his question, Wanda let her mind drift back off to you, waiting for the moment that she could leave the room without rousing anyone’s suspicion.
However, unbeknown to the siblings, a certain assassin sat on the kitchen stool, a smirk half-hidden behind her book. Natasha had recognized the black lace and knew exactly who it belonged to. After all, she was there with you when you bought the lingerie set.
It’s a couple days later when she makes her move.
You were in the kitchen getting some breakfast with Wanda when Natasha strolled in, a smug look on her face when she spotted you. The redhead brushes past you, eyeing you up and down. You raise an eyebrow at her, unimpressed.
Natasha simply shrugs, feigning a look of innocence. “Nothing. Just didn’t know you had a thing for guys with premature silver hair.”
You pause, your drink already pressed against your lips. You bring it down before narrowing your eyes in confusion. “I don’t…?”
Wanda looks equally as confused, although she was more intrigued than not. There was only one person with silver hair, so it wasn’t hard to deduce who the redhead was talking about.
“Does Pietro’s speed come in handy in bed? Or does he… you know,” Natasha continues, making a lewd exploding gesture, “quickly, too?”
At once, you’re choking on nothing. From across the counter you see that Wanda’s not doing much better, nearly spilling the carton of milk in her hand. She hastily puts it down, eyes tracking Natasha’s every move.
The redhead smirks, taking your reaction as a confirmation. “Okay, noted. Don’t bring up your boy before you’re properly caffeinated.”
You clear your throat, not knowing where this was coming from. “Nat, I love you to death, but I don’t know what you’re talking about. Why do you think I’m sleeping with Pietro?”
She chuckles, ignoring your complaints when she swipes your coffee from your hands. “Nice try, but Pietro claiming your underwear as his in front of the entire team isn’t as subtle as you’d think it’d be.”
Your eyes widen at that. When Pietro had dropped by your room the other day with your underwear and a grumbled out “you’re welcome” under his breath, you had assumed he grabbed it from the couch before anyone else saw it. Now you were starting to think you should have asked him why he had them.
“Pietro and I, we’re not together,” you quickly spit out, hoping to sway Natasha’s seemingly already made up mind.
“Uh huh, sure.” She sips at your stolen coffee, a sparkle of glee in her eyes.
You wrack your mind with ideas of how to get yourself out of this mess. Once Natasha got an idea in her head, it was hard to talk her out of it. Usually it would be Steve or Tony getting the short end of the stick, but this time it was you, and you already hated it.
You send Wanda a ‘help me’ look over Natasha’s shoulder, but the brunette simply purses her lips at you, finding this more amusing than not. She crosses her arms and leans against the fridge, watching the exchange go down.
Suddenly realizing that the sister of the man in question was standing in the room with the two of you, Natasha turns to Wanda. “Did you know that your brother was dating your best friend?”
Wanda pulls off a faux look of surprise. “No, and I’m hurt. How could you do this to me?”
You bite down your urge to roll your eyes at her mock cry of outrage. You are the worst girlfriend ever, you think in your head. You get another amused grin as a response.
Natasha gasps, looking back at you. “Not telling me, I’d understand. But not telling Wanda? Have you no shame? What happened to the girl code?”
“That’s not-- oh my god, I’m not--”
Thankfully, a phone goes off before you have a chance to dig yourself down deeper into this hole.
Natasha looks down at her phone. She frowns at first, but then it quickly morphs back into devilish smirk. “Oh would you look at that, I have to go do some training things with your boyfriend. I’ll let him know you say hi!”
You’re left gaping after her, unable to say a thing before Natasha’s gone, disappearing as quickly as she appeared.
The second she’s gone you turn to your girlfriend. She’s doing her best to hold in her laughter and you groan. “You were no help.”
“Sorry, it was too funny to say anything.”
You round the counter, quickly dropping your head onto her shoulder. Wanda lets out a small giggle and wraps her arms around your waist.
“Nat thinks I’m dating your brother.”
A light kiss is pressed to the crown of your head as you feel a light chuckle rumble through her chest. “Eh, you could do worse.”
“You know that she’s definitely not going to keep that theory to herself, right?”
Wanda scrunches her nose up at you. “No she wouldn’t…” she trails off before looking back down at you, her humor quickly bleeding into a look of alarm. “Oh shit.”
You were right.
By the end of the day it seemed like Natasha had told everyone.
When you went to the gym to train, Sam wiggled his eyebrows at you and gave you a high five (that you begrudgingly accepted).
When you went to the lab to test a new weapon Tony had made for you, Bruce had passively aggressively teased you the whole time, muttering in the background something about you ruining his favorite couch.
Even Peter, who had been visiting, didn’t hesitate to congratulate you on your “newfound relationship.” You had simply raised an eyebrow at him before he turned red, sputtered out an excuse, and ran out of the room.
And it got worse as the week went on. Whenever you were in the vicinity of the speedster one of your teammates would make a crude sexual joke or ask when the two of you were getting married. Every time it would happen you’d shoot Pietro an apologetic look. He took it in good stride, always laughing along but also making sure to respect your relationship with his sister.
Despite the annoying comments it actually made it easier for you to sneak around with Wanda. With all the attention placed on you and her brother, they didn’t question it when you would disappear for hours at a time. Oftentimes Pietro would make himself scarce too, knowing that you wanted to spend time with his sister. And during times when the team knew that you were with Wanda, they’d just think that it was some “sisterly” bonding happening between the two of you. Every time the team cooed at Pietro (“look how well your girlfriend and sister are getting along”) the three of you would simply roll your eyes and laugh. If only they knew.
Two weeks had passed since the “underwear incident” and nothing could bring down your mood. The team was still actively haranguing you and Pietro, but none of the things they said were getting to you.
It was steadily approaching your’s and Wanda’s one year anniversary, and the two of you had made reservations at Wanda’s favorite restaurant. You were excited. Because of the whole “secret relationship” thing, it was hard for the two of you to get dressed up and to go to fancy places together without getting the attention of your team or the public.
But today the two of you didn’t care. You spent the whole day together, only parting ways an hour before your reservation, deciding to surprise the other with your outfits. You put on your favorite navy blue dress, the one that you knew Wanda loved, before applying a layer of smoky eyeshadow and some lipstick. You glance at yourself in the mirror. Damn, you looked good.
Slipping on a set of killer heels, you leave your room, eager to see Wanda.
But like all things, the peace surrounding you doesn’t last.
You were headed towards the living room to wait for your girlfriend when Sam caught sight of you. He instantly wolf whistles when he takes in your appearance. He nudges the other Sokovian who happened to be standing beside him. “Damn, Pietro, your girl looks smokin’. Where are you guys going tonight?”
Pietro, who was dressed in sweats and an old hoodie, opened his mouth to give an excuse before realizing he didn’t know what to say. He was most definitely not dressed to go out.
Shaking your head at Sam, you sigh. “Sam, I swear--”
A squeak escapes you when your foot slips. Your heart lurches in your chest, arms instinctively coming forward to brace yourself for the fall. However, before you could even move an inch, Pietro’s there, hands grabbing your hips to steady you.
Looking up at Pietro, you give him a soft smile. “Thanks, Piet.”
You drop your voice, prepared to whisper an excuse for Pietro to tell the others when you’re interrupted by a flash. The two of you turn, startled, to see Tony holding up a camera with a grin on his face. “Aww, y’all are just too cute!”
Your eyes narrow in annoyance and you’re about to tell them off when the clicking of heels catch your attention.
Your breath is taken away when you spot Wanda coming over to where a small gathering was starting to form around you. You felt your mouth going dry as you took her in. She was wearing a black dress with a leg slit that showed a lot of leg, her hair was falling over her shoulders in light waves, and some dark eyeliner was applied, making her green eyes pop.
As you stood like an idiot, gaping at your girlfriend, Wanda was getting closer, fuming with every step she took. Unbeknown to you, Wanda had heard the entire conversation. In the beginning Wanda had found the teasing remarks about you and her brother humorous. But the longer it went on, the more it ate away at her. It should be her that Natasha unrelentlessly teased. It should be her that Steve was giving the “protective brother” talk to. It should be her, not Pietro. That feeling of jealousy kept growing and growing until she couldn’t keep it in anymore.
Spotting Wanda, Sam grins at her, oblivious to the stormy expression on her face. “Hey Wanda, what do you think about your future sister-in-law? A catch, right?”
“What do I think about my what?” If she clenched her jaw any harder, you’re sure that she would break it.
“I mean, Pietro and (Y/N) just seem so smitten with each other, don’t you think?”
Her eyes travel down to where Pietro’s hands were still resting on your hips. There’s a very fake smile on the witch’s face and you can feel Pietro gulp next to you. At once he lets go, instantly fearful of what his sister’s about to do. Every step forward taken by one Maximoff, the other one moves slightly back. Eventually Wanda was by your side, close enough that your arms were brushing.
“Hmm let me see. What do I think about (Y/N)?” Wanda turns to face you and you instantly see the gleam in her eyes. You don’t have a chance to question her, because in the next moment Wanda’s got your face cupped in her hands and is pulling you in for a heated kiss.
You gasp, not expecting the action, and she takes the opportunity to slip her tongue into your mouth. Your eyes slip closed, lost in the feeling of Wanda’s lips, forgetting for a second that you’re not alone.
It’s when someone (probably Pietro) awkwardly coughs that you remember that you have an audience.
You move to jerk back, but Wanda’s hands, still holding your face, don’t let you go. She slows down the kiss, but doesn’t immediately end it.
By the time it’s over, you’re already dizzy. Whether it was from the lack of oxygen or just because of the haze of being kissed, you couldn’t be sure. When you open your eyes, Wanda’s already looking back with a look of pure adoration. “Hi.” You shyly whisper.
“Hi.” She grins back, quickly pressing another light kiss to your lips before running her thumb along the bottom of your lip to clean up some of your smudged up lipstick. Dropping her hand from your face, she intertwines your fingers, not letting go quite yet.
“Uh, are you guys seeing what I’m seeing?”
“I think I need to bleach my eyes.”
“Is it a Sokovian thing to share girlfriends?”
“Wait, wait, wait.” Natasha exclaims. Her brows are scrunched up in confusion, eyes quickly darting between your faces and linked hands. “(Y/N), aren’t you with--”
“The only person (Y/N)’s with is me,” Wanda interrupts, eyebrow raised in a silent dare for someone else to question her. Everyone stays silent, half out of fear of retaliation, half out of pure befuddlement. Wanda smiles. “Great. Now, if you’ll excuse us, my girlfriend and I are going to go on our date now.”
Everyone’s left with confused looks on their faces as she drags you towards the elevator. Well, everyone but Pietro. There’s a smirk on his face as the elevator door begins closing.
“Don’t forget to use protection!”
other musings: what is megumi's collection of oversized clothing made out of? boyfriend material. aha //gets shot//
sooo,,, this was supposed to be a messy thing but i might've gotten too carried away,,, kinda proud of this one, even if it’s not the most original,,, lowkey want to make a pt. 2 just to make them cuddle teehee
...wearing one of fushiguro megumi's oversized clothes.
Fushiguro Megumi has a crush.
For the most part, he's well adapted in the art of not giving away signs; a skill worth mastering, considering the fact that the people he hung out around most include two incessantly loud idiots from the countryside, and a nosy, all powerful man-child.
He guessed—no, he knew his little secret wouldn't last a day in their hands.
Just the thought of you finding out because one of them decided to open their mouths for too long sent shivers down his spine.
They'd already begun to tease the both of you about the amount of time one spent with the other. Not to mention the uncharacteristic way his demeanor would soften for you and you only, though, any feelings from either party has yet to be confirmed.
And so his plan to keep these people out of his love life was working tremendously—
Fushiguro curses at the way his heartbeat speeds up at the mere mention of the dreaded nickname. The things you do to the poor guy.
Ignoring the teasing nudges from the two boneheads next to him (who have also started making obnoxious kissy faces, much to the raven-haired teen's dismay), he lets out an irritated sigh, turning to look at you—a decision he’ll come to regret later. “What is—”
His mind went blank the moment he spots you. Specifically, the familiar piece of sewed fabric engulfing your form, the tips of your fingers being the only thing visible at the end of each sleeve.
You're going to be the absolute death of him one of these days.
Any words he wanted to say after that never came out.
That's the effect you have on him. All sixteen years of literacy, thrown out the window, just like that.
The tip of his ears burn, which doesn't go unnoticed by his companions. Yūji and Nobara share a knowing look, grin, then nod.
They start to build a sentence, but each word is alternated between one person and the other.
Itadori sucks in a breath, then lets out a gasp, one that is definitely more dramatic than necessary. “Is—”
Kugisaki follows suit. “the—”
They finish in sync.
“Shut up. No, I'm not.” Fuck, fuck, fuck, he thinks. He definitely is. He can feel it—the rush of his own blood, and the heat that follows suit.
It’s bad enough he’s behaving this way in front of you. But to slip up while Yūji and Nobara are less than six feet away?
He internally groans. He's in for hell later.
“’Gumi?” you try again, concerned at the prolonged silence.
Fushiguro takes a deep breath. “Why—” with one hand over his mouth, he clears his throat, looking off to one side, trying to regain whatever composure he has left, which, really, isn't much, “—why are you wearing that?”
You blink once, twice, look down, then up at him again. That's what's bothering him? “Gojō-sensei lent it to me— it's colder than usual and I didn't bring extra insulation, so he offered it to me.” Eyebrows furrowing, a sudden wave of self-consciousness washes over you, hands moving to cover your front. “Is there... something wrong?”
Of course. Of fucking course it was the blindfolded bastard of a teacher.
He had wondered where it went; one might think he wouldn't notice because it was one among many others, but whoever did must not know him very well. Megumi is detail-oriented, and he will know if one of his clothes is gone.
Exhaling harshly, he pinches the bridge of his nose, seafoam irises locked to the greys below his feet. “Remember...” he doesn't think he can finish the sentence. It's clear that you're clueless to the fact that it's his. "...remember when I told you one of my sweatshirts went missing?”
Quietness befalls the four of you. The calm before the storm, as they say.
Ten seconds in, and your brain finally puts two and two together.
Another three is how long it takes for your face to explode into a deep, deep scarlet. Fushiguro isn't faring any better, the burning that was originally at the tip his ears has now spread to the entirety of his head—not that either of you noticed, too busy drowning in embarrassment.
As for Itadori and Kugisaki, they're in absolute hysterics, phones in hand to relay this wonderful piece of information to the other most obnoxious man on the planet through the groupchat—as if there isn't enough blackmail material to go by already.
Another beat of silence. (Or at least, between you and Megumi. The other two are too preoccupied with squeals, screams, and laughter.)
You snap out of it, not even realizing you've been staring and playing with the hem of the sweatshirt— Megumi’s sweatshirt. “Right, guess I should take this off—”
Your head snaps up. “W-what?”
“You can take it off later, when it's not as cold, or when you find something else to warm up.” You open your mouth to protest, only to hesitate when he adds, “I'm guessing you didn't have other options, which was why you didn't hesitate to wear that, right?”
You bite your lip. His words ring true, but...
“I just don't want you to feel uncomfortable, ‘Gumi.” you confess, once again lowering your gaze.
Fushiguro winces at your guilty expression. If only he isn't this much of a coward when it came to his feelings. He rubs the back of his neck, closing his eyes, sighing. “It’s fine. I'm not that bothered by it. Besides...”
You look up at him, curious to see what he utters next.
He takes a quick glance at you. He's mostly recovered, but there's still a hint of fuchsia on the apple of his cheeks. “...your well-being is more important than the idiots’ teasing.”
His words cause your eyes to widen, then soften, lips upturned to a fond smile.
The sweatshirt feels a little bit warmer, and so does your heart.
©reverees. all rights reserved.
Night Changes: PART TWO
Jeon Jungkook has spent the last twenty years alone. Single. Solo.
And that’s just the way he likes it. That is, until he meets the supposed love of his life. Suddenly he’s falling over himself at the chance of a real relationship with someone.
The only thing getting in his way? You.
genre: fuckboy!jungkookie, college!jungkookie, romcom, e2l (kinda)
AN: I am so fuckin soft for college Kook you wouldn’t even belieeeeeve
Within days of their ‘truce’, Jungkook realises what a huge dickhead he truly is for not remembering Y/N’s name.
She shares his timetable almost entirely.
“I’m the worst.” He bemoans after a particularly stressful lecture on American poetry, “You weren’t kidding when you said you were in all my classes.”
“Almost all your classes.” She laughs a little at the look on his face and shrugs, “I did tell you.”
“It makes perfect sense now why you hate me.”
Y/N nudges him playfully and shakes her head, “I don’t hate you.”
“Yes you do.” He sniffles dramatically, “And you should. I’m an asshole.”
She pulls a face, “Now what am I meant to do here? Tell you that you’re not an asshole? That would be lying.”
Jungkook reaches for his heart theatrically and frowns.
“I deserve that.”
She scoffs playfully, “Shut up, Jungkook.”
It’s been exactly four days since Jungkook and Y/N began to hatch their plan to try and get their respective soulmates to fall in love with them.
And though Y/N’s original idea was to host some kind of movie night at her apartment Jungkook has been slowly persuading her into throwing a full blown party. Park Jimin is an absolute animal, Jungkook promises her (that’s a huge stretch, but what college student doesn’t like alcohol and loud music?) and throwing a party is a surefire way to get him to agree to coming.
But Y/N isn’t so easily swayed.
“I’m going to make it up to you,” Jungkook tells her confidently, “I’m going to make sure that you and Jimin get together, and then when you have beautiful babies together you’ll be thanking me. And we’ll forget all about the incredibly unfortunate way we met each other.”
Y/N’s smile is soft, but Jungkook sees it.
“I know you will,” She says, “I have faith in your matchmaking abilities, Jeon Jungkook.”
“Which reminds me….Did you think about what I said, Y/N?”
Jungkook has to admit - he really likes having her around. Try as he might at first to have seen the worst in her, he has to admit Y/N’s not half bad.
“About the party?”
He winks, “Bingo!”
“It’s a bad idea.”
“Oh my god-”
“No, because I’m such a wallflower,” She insists, shaking her head firmly, “Jimin will just think I’m boring.”
“I’ll help you come out of your shell. I’ve told you that already. It will be like a life lesson for you - a chance to shine in the spotlight.”
“I don’t shine,” Y/N is whining now, “It’s stupid to even try.”
“No it’s not,” Jungkook insists, “Everybody shines. In their own way. Everybody.”
He feels kind of awful for her.
How can she even think that way about herself?
“You don’t - it’s not. C’mon Jungkook I can’t-”
“What about the night we met?” Jungkook interrupts, as the two round the corner of Jungkook’s street, “You were partying then, weren’t you? You were shining then?”
She flushes, “That’s different.”
She shuts her eyes for a moment. Jungkook worries he might have pushed her too far. He slips his bottom lip between his teeth and just as he opens his mouth to apologise she sighs heavily.
He brushes a hand over her shoulder, “It’s not.”
Her eyes open and he’s taken aback by the softness there.
He wants to reach out and maybe pat her cheek but he decides against it. Fuckboy or not, Jungkook is not the kind of guy to do that. Is he? No. He isn’t.
“Okay. Okay. I’ll throw the damn party. But you’re helping me with everything, okay?”
Jungkook feels something like electricity shoot up his ass. (He won’t ever tell anyone else he thought that.)
“Yes! This is going to be perfect Y/N I swear. Jimin will love it. So will you,” He grins like he’s hit the jackpot, “It’s the last day of semester in three weeks time. We’ll use that as a reason okay? And we’ll plan everything together. It will be amazing.”
Y/N’s eyes dart across Jungkook’s face nervously.
She seems to be looking for something - what he’s not sure - but after a moment she nods.
“Fine. Okay. End of semester,” Her lips fall into a small smile, “Do you think this will work?”
They stop at the entrance of Jungkook’s building.
“It’s perfect Y/N. I swear. Just perfect.”
When her smile widens Jungkook thinks he’s never seen her look better.
“I’m trusting you Jungkook.” She narrows her eyes playfully, “Don’t fuck it up.”
He crosses his index finger across his chest and nods determinedly.
“Trust me, Y/N. We’ll have Park Jimin eating out of your hand before you know it.”
And he really believes it, too.
The next day Jungkook runs into Y/N at lunchtime. He hasn’t seen her in any of his classes today and when he texts her to tell her this, she reminds him that Friday is the only day they don’t share a timetable.
He has to admit he’s kind of bummed.
So when he finds himself wandering into the campus garden with Hoseok trailing less than enthusiastically behind him, his eyes zero in on her immediately.
She’s eating some kind of burrito - probably extra spicy as she’s told him that’s the only way to eat Mexican food - and reading a book. Of course she’s reading a book.
“Hey Hobi let’s go sit over there.” He points her out to his friend and Hoseok raises a brow.
“Y/N?” His brow raises even higher if possible, “Y/N as in the girl you slept with who’s name you can’t remember and who’s roommate you are in love with? And who you’ve promised to help set up with Park Jimin? That Y/N.”
Jungkook frowns, “Well when you say it like that…” He rolls his eyes, “Shut up. Let’s just go.”
Hoseok shrugs and follows his friend - what good will it do him to argue anyway? - and when Jungkook reaches his destination he clears his throat noisily. Y/N looks up and Jungkook notices she’s wearing a pair of thick-framed glasses. He has to admit… She looks kind of adorable in them.
The moment recognition dawns on her face, Y/N’s lips lift.
“Hi.” Jungkook’s smile widens when she grins up at him.
“Hi.” She shifts slightly, “What are you uh - doing here?”
“Stalking you obviously,” Jungkook takes a seat beside her on the blanket she’s set up to eat on, and gestures for Hoseok to do the same, “This is my friend Hoseok. The one I said dances with your boyfriend.”
She wrinkles her nose and flushes, “Jungkook! He’s not my boyfriend.” She turns to Hoseok and smiles softly, “Hi.”
Hoseok - to his credit - doesn’t seem to mind the Jimin comment. He smiles back at her.
Jungkook unwraps the dismal lunch he’s made himself - a sweetcorn and tuna salad - and gestures to the book sitting in Y/N’s lap.
She looks down and then up, “Oh. It’s uh - god. It’s stupid.”
Jungkook quirks a brow, “C’mon tell me. What is it.”
She hesitates for a second and then rolls her eyes, seemingly accepting her fate.
Jungkook almost wants to remind her that they’re friends - she shouldn’t be embarrassed in front of him - but he stays quiet.
She lifts the book to show him the cover.
“It’s a book on gaining confidence.” Her shoulders shrug, “I thought it might help. Y’know… With the whole…” Her eyes flit over to Hoseok briefly, “Jimin thing.”
Hoseok chuckles and it catches Jungkook off guard.
He’d almost forgotten his friend was there.
“That’s adorable,” Hoseok comments, “Man if a girl did that for me I’d be beyond flattered.”
Y/N’s cheeks flush and she shakes her head, “No - I mean. I don’t know. It’s not just for him…”
She bites her bottom lip and shrugs, “I mean I guess. Yeah. He should be flattered.”
Hoseok laughs again and Jungkook has a sneaking suspicion his friend might be flirting.
He doesn’t like that.
Y/N is not for Hoseok. Not at all.
“Well she’s not reading the book for you,” Jungkook tells him, trying to control his anger, “She’s reading it for Jimin.”
Hoseok raises a brow. He takes a moment and then smiles again.
Jungkook spends the rest of the lunch break trying to stop whatever weird energy Hoseok and Y/N have going on.
There is absolutely no way in hell that Jung Hoseok thinks he can just swoop in and ruin all his plans, right? Y/N needs to fall in love with Jimin. Park Jimin needs to be the one laughing with her and smiling at her and flirting with her.
He’s absolutely livid by the time Y/N scurries off to class.
“What the fuck was that?”
Hoseok pulls a face, “What?”
“That. That… Flirting. What was that?” Jungkook has barely even touched his lunch (and it’s got nothing to do with the absolute miserable state of it, he swears.)
Hoseok seems confused for only a moment later. Then his face opens up.
“Oh, right.” He shakes his head, “I wasn’t flirting, Jungkook.”
Jungkook hates the look on his friend’s face. Like he knows something Jungkook doesn’t.
“What’s that look for Hoseok?”
Hobi chuckles and shakes his head, “Nothing Jungkook. Absolutely nothing.”
Jungkook spends the rest of the day thinking about that godforsaken look.
Jungkook wakes up the next morning (which thank god happens to be a Saturday,) to a text message from Y/N. He’s been trying to convince her to use more emojis - but she refuses.
Secretly, he finds her texting kind of cute.
But he’ll never tell her that.
Y/N: Are you free today?
Jungkook: as a bird. what did you have in mind?? :)
Y/N: It’s my birthday. Soomi is taking me out bowling. Wanna come?
Jungkook feels his heart swim all the way up to his throat.
Soomi? And wait what - it’s Y/N’s birthday?
He’s sort of offended she only brought it up now.
Jungkook: uhhh… what?? happy fuckin birthday y/n!!! ur naughty!!! birthday ??? why didnt you tell me yesterday???
Y/N: You’re an English Lit student. Use proper vocabulary and grammar please. And I don’t know I didn’t think it was a big deal.
Jungkook: u cant change me boo… u just text like a granny. its your birthday stupid ofc its a big deal. mind if i invite some of my friends??
It’s a few minutes before Y/N finally replies.
Y/N: Yeah. Sure. Meet us at Blue Pins in an hour?
Jungkook: c u there… birthday girl!!!!!
Jungkook smiles at the way she still acts like she hates him even though he knows she doesn’t really.
It really is the start of a beautiful friendship.
An hour later Jungkook finds himself sat in a booth with Hoseok, Taehyung and Namjoon, nervously tapping his fingers against the surface of the table.
Hoseok clicks his tongue loudly and grabs his friend's hand from across the booth. His eyes are narrowed a little.
“Will you calm down?”
“Are you kidding?” Jungkook’s eyes are as wide as a pair of saucers, “I’m about to meet the woman I’m going to marry.”
Hoseok scoffs at that and Taehyung scrolls through his phone, bored as always.
After a moment, Taehyung clears his throat, “He said yes.”
Jungkook feels like his heart has just fallen out of his asshole.
“Jimin said yes,” Taehyung rolls his eyes, almost as if he’s annoyed at this spectacular outcome, “He’ll come to Y/N’s party at the end of the semester..”
“Oh fuck YES!” Jungkook fist pumps the air in joy as Hoseok chuckles in delight.
“You’re overreacting,” Namjoon tells his friend seriously, “Jimin coming does not equal Jimin falling in love with Y/N.”
“It gets me one step closer though,” Jungkook feels lighter already, “And one step closer to that means one step closer to Soomi falling in love with me.”
Namjoon snorts out a laugh, “Stop it.”
“What?” Jungkook takes a swig from the cappuccino he insisted on ordering as soon as they arrived, “It’s true.”
“You’re not seriously thinking you’re in love with this girl Jungkook?” Hoseok’s eyes dance with mirth, “I know you man.”
“What do you mean?”
Hoseok raises a dubious brow, “You’re the ultimate fuckboy.”
“I am not.”
“Yes. You are.” Taehyung tacks on helpfully, “Notoriously so, actually.”
Jungkook doesn’t want to admit it but he knows his friends are kind of right. Sue him - he’s young and handsome and he’s in college. Everybody fucks around in college.
“And anyway I don’t actively pursue girls unless I have the intention of taking it somewhere.” Jungkook crosses his arms, “A fuckboy I may be, but a dickhead I am not.”
“Says the guy who forgot Y/N’s name after a vigorous night of lovemaking.” Namjoon grins like the cat who got the cream and Jungkook wants to smack him.
“You can thank your dear friend Kim Taehyung for that.” Jungkook replies sharply, narrowing his eyes at his so-called childhood best friend.
Taehyung gasps like he can’t believe what Jungkook’s just said.
“Seven tequilas on an empty stomach is never a good idea Tae,” Jungkook rolls his eyes, “You kept insisting.”
Taehyung answers with a flippant wave of his hand, eyes finally moving away from his phone, “Whatever. You’re an adult, right? You could’ve said no.”
“Not when free alcohol is involved.”
“Anyway Kookie, the point is you can’t be in love.” Hoseok leans back like he’s just discovered the meaning to life. Always so smug.
Jungkook can’t help but find it a little annoying.
“And how, oh wise one, are you coming to this conclusion?” Jungkook’s tone is dripping with sarcasm. He raises a brow at his friend and gives him the most pointed look he can manage.
It’s still Hoseok and Jungkook has to admit he respects his opinion the most.
“Because you’re you. And you barely know this girl.” Hoseok rolls his eyes, “That’s how.”
“I find that offensive,” Jungkook retorts, “People are allowed to change and grow. Now I’ve met Soomi I’m different.”
Namjoon shakes his head, “There’s no point, Hobi. We all tried, believe me. But he’s decided that he’s in love with her. Just get on board with it.”
Jungkook sends Hoseok a toothy grin once he swallows the last of the cappuccino and nods emphatically.
He knows what his friends think of him.
That he’s slutty and careless. That commitment scares the shit out of him. That he’s incapable of monogamy. A combination of all of the above.
But Jungkook knows the truth. He didn’t want a girlfriend before this because he hadn’t met someone that made sense to him.
And what’s the point of being with someone unless you’re all in?
“Anyway when you’re guests at our wedding it’ll all make sense,” Jungkook pushes his empty coffee cup to the side, “We’re meant to be.”
Taehyung laughs at this - despite himself - and Hoseok and Namjoon chuckle too.
The sound of someone calling his name causes him to turn quickly, eyes widening when he sees who it is. Y/N. She’s smiling at him of course - but that’s not what causes Jungkook to almost go into cardiac arrest.
No. Of course not.
It’s the beautiful angel standing beside Y/N that causes him to almost forget how to breathe.
“Hi,” He squeezes out despite himself, eyes riveted to Soomi’s beautiful face, “Hi.”
Soomi smiles and Jungkook is immediately breathless.
“Jungkook right? Y/N’s… Friend.” The suggestive tone annoys Jungkook - he can’t have Soomi thinking he belongs to anyone else but her - and he nods.
“But just a friend now,” Y/N pipes up helpfully, “We… Uh… Worked through our differences. And now we’re friends. Just friends. Totally platonic.”
Jungkook thinks she’s kind of overkilling the whole thing but he doesn’t say anything. Instead he smiles at Soomi and watches as her face puts two and two together.
Jungkook wants her - no he needs her to know that he’s single.
Totally single and available and hers.
Namjoon clears his throat somewhere from Jungkook’s left. He turns to his friends and nods quickly.
“Right. Yes of course. My friends - these are my friends. Taehyung and Namjoon, and Y/N you’ve already met Hoseok.”
The two share a small wave. Jungkook ignores the stab of annoyance that sends to his gut.
“Hi,” Soomi smiles in a way Jungkook is sure is almost too heavenly to be real, “I’m Soomi.”
God. He really is a goner.
Jungkook doesn’t want to brag, but he is pretty good at bowling.
Okay. Who’s he kidding?
He totally wants to brag.
The moment Y/N splits them up into two teams - Soomi, Jungkook and her versus Namjoon, Hoseok and Taehyung - he’s determined to win.
He has to win.
He has to show Soomi one of his many, many, many talents.
“You’re pretty good at this,” Soomi remarks as he throws his first strike, “Or is that just beginner’s luck?”
Jungkook shakes his head and shrugs, “I’d say I’m pretty good.”
Her giggle is music to his ears.
“That’s impressive. What kind of girl doesn’t want a man who can throw a strike?”
Jungkook smirks, “That’s what I always say.”
Her eyes crinkle at the side when she smiles and though it's not quite as adorable as Y/N’s - he’ll never admit this out loud - she still looks so sweet his heart constricts almost painfully in his chest. He forgets for a moment where he is, laying on the charm thick.
“Is that how you seduce poor unsuspecting women then? With your bowling skills?”
He winks in that way that usually works and his smirk widens, “You know it!”
Soomi giggles again and Jungkook is surprised at how smoothly this all seems to be going - when the sound of somebody throwing a gutter grabs his attention.
His eyes lift - thinking it has to be the other team - and he furrows his brow when he sees Y/N standing at the very top of the bowling lane, staring at the full set of pins in front of her.
Jungkook momentarily forgets about Soomi - his competitive nature kicked into overdrive - as he shoots up from his seat and rushes towards Y/N.
“Oh my god,” He’s right beside her in an instant, “Was that you?”
Y/N looks up at him - cheeks flushed - and nods, “Yeah. I’m terrible at bowling.”
“So why would you choose to come here? On your birthday?”
Jungkook is somewhere between disbelief and pure horror. But he has to admit, the look on her face is sort of funny. She’s mortified.
“Soomi suggested it. She said it might be fun,” She looks away for a moment, “For her maybe.”
The sound of someone scoring a strike blares to Jungkook’s left and when he sees Taehyung performing some kind of ridiculous victory dance, he decides enough is enough.
“No. No.” Jungkook sets his jaw, “I’m going to help you.”
Y/N’s brow lifts, “What?”
“I’m going to help you. You’re going to score a strike.”
She snorts out a laugh.
“I don’t think you realise how truly terrible I am at this.”
“And I don’t think you realise how truly competitive I am,” He gestures to the balls, “Grab the lime green. That’s the lightest.”
Y/N watches him for a moment longer. She looks behind him and moves her hand in the general direction of Soomi.
“What about Soomi?”
He flares his nostrils, “She’ll still be there after I finish helping you.”
Y/N stares at him, and when Jungkook cocks his head towards the row of balls lining the back of the bowling alley, she shrugs and follows his command.
Jungkook takes this as a moment to teach Y/N how to shine.
After all, what better way to fell good about yourself than being good at something you always thought you sucked at?
When Y/N comes back with the lime green ball, he grabs her free arm and positions her to stand with her back to his chest, wordlessly.
“Woah.” Y/N breathes, “What are you doing?”
Jungkook’s mouth is right beside her ear, “Just follow me okay? I’m helping you, I swear.”
He slides his hand down to the ball and grips her fingers carefully.
“Don’t hold too much tension in your wrist,” He tells her sternly, “You’re too tense. You’re always too tense. Relax.”
Something strange passes between them. Y/N takes a long, deep breath, and Jungkook tries to concentrate on the task at hand.
“Now slowly, slowly, bring the ball back,” Y/N follows Jungkook’s movements, “And… Release.”
He helps her flick it onto the lane, and they watch in suspense as the ball spins towards the pins. There is almost a moment where everything is suspended in time - before the ball crashes with the pins and nine of them fall down.
Y/N squeals in happiness and turns around sharply, throwing her arm around Jungkook’s neck and pressing herself against him in a hug.
“Thank you Jungkook!” She is smiling so widely, his heart turns, “You’re the best.”
“You’re welcome.” Jungkook finds he’s grinning too, “You deserve it. Happy birthday Y/N.”
He pushes some hair out of her face - practical purposes of course, it was getting in her eyes - and she seems to catch her breath at the gesture.
They stare at each other for a moment, before someone clears their throat from behind them and they break apart. Soomi is standing between them, holding a bubble gum pink bowling ball.
Jungkook wonders almost flippantly if she only picked it up for it’s colour.
“It’s my turn, right?” She turns her smile on Jungkook and he melts.
“Right.” Jungkook smiles back, “Your turn.”
When he turns to move back to their booth he notices Y/N watching their interaction carefully. Her eyes flit away the moment she’s caught, but Jungkook knows what he saw.
Very strange indeed.
Later on that evening, after they’ve all shared a pizza, and Jungkook has spent the rest of the night watching Soomi with hearts in his eyes, Hoseok clears his throat with purpose.
They’re sat in their living room - Hoseok has decided to crash over because, why not? - and playing a midnight mario kart match, when Jungkook’s friend seems to have something to say.
Jungkook pauses the game. He turns to Hoseok.
There is a brief moment of silence. Taehyung is forever scrolling through his phone, and Namjoon has long ago gone to bed. Hoseok clicks his tongue.
“Are you sure you like Soomi?”
The question completely throws Jungkook off.
He raises a questioning brow, “What?”
“I’m just - asking. I’m just…” Hoseok turns to Taehyung for support. When his friend doesn’t notice, he smacks him across the shoulder, “Tae.”
Jungkook narrows his eyes, “Have you guys talked about this?”
Taehyung seems to realise where the conversation has just come from. He actually locks his phone and sets it to one side.
“Yeah.” Taehyung answers honestly, “We have.”
“I’ve told you guys a million times. I know I barely know her but -”
“That’s not it.” Hoseok licks his bottom lip, “I mean it’s crazy you think you fell in love at first sight but… Stranger things have happened.”
Jungkook scoffs, “So? Why have you asked then?”
Taehyung sighed heavily, “Because we think you like Y/N.”
“What the fuck?” Jungkook snorts out a laugh because really - what else can he do?, “Why the fuck would you think that?”
His friends share another look and Jungkook hates that.
He hates that they think they know him better than he knows himself.
Hoseok shakes his head, “Just a feeling.”
“A feeling that’s wrong.” Jungkook states firmly, “Dead wrong.”
Taehyung nods and picks up his phone, “Fine. Alright. We’re wrong then.”
Hoseok seems like he wants to say more but he doesn’t opting instead for something that sounds sort of like a grunt.
Jungkook watches his friends for a moment longer.
“Yeah. So wrong.”
That night, when Jungkook’s just about to go to bed he receives a text message. He opens his phone, expecting Y/N and finding, instead, an unrecognised number staring back at him.
Soomi: hiiiii jungkook :) it's soomi… y/n gave me ur number. hope u dont mind.
Jungkook pushes his friends’s ridiculous theory to the back of his head, and focuses instead on the fact that Soomi has just texted him. His thumbs move to answer her but he pauses, moving instead to open Y/N’s chat history.
Jungkook: hey. happy bday again champ. u da bomb!! also thanks for giving soomi my number. u a real one for that, chief!!! :) :) :)
Y/N’s reply comes only a few minutes later.
Y/N: Thank you Jungkook. I appreciate it. And no worries… She seemed to really be into you after tonight. So well done, yeah? :)
Jungkook smiles at the emoji that he imagines Y/N forced herself to add, and almost misses the part when she says Soomi was into him.
Right. Yeah. Perfect.
He opens up Soomi’s chat and starts to write out a reply.
This is exactly what he wanted.
@cuddleboo @veronawrites @minluvly @severetimetravelnerd @moonchild1 @bunnyjeonjk @multicolourunicorn @somewhereinthestarss @jwlmnbt @jojo-suga @zera10 @ggukkieland @thesugatoyourtae @dxlbts @wxndi
“Harry’s stylist, right?”
Summary: Harry and his personal stylist are great collaborators, on screen and off. She helps his visions come to life and in turn they’ve become close friends. As she helps him to bring his fashion dreams come to life during the Fine Line era, will some other dreams come to life as well?
Harry and his stylist go from colleagues to friends to lovers because they’ve been in love with each other from the jump
this fit is very important to this part lmaooo - I literally have no idea what to call this lol, anyway I've been sitting on this for forever and I wanted to get something out for yall and i love this story there will be a part 2 when i get to a writing mood. I love this story bc its my literal dream - anyway!! pls enjoy and reblog and lmk what you think :)
Word Count: 14k | Warnings: swearing, drinking, tame for now, should be smut eventually - aka slow burn (what else would you expect from me at this point i guess)
“Hey, H, I just had a question about one of the SNL outfits? Do you have a sec?”
Harry looked up from his phone and raised his brows at his stylist, Y/N.
Y/N had worked with Harry previously. In photoshoots for Another Man magazine and his most recent Gucci campaign. As well as some other random times, such as one-off award show looks and specific appearances. However, this past summer Harry had hired Y/N to work fulltime for him, exclusively. He had told her that he was planning on releasing his second album in the winter and he wanted someone there to help him plan his clothes for music videos, award season, interview appearances, as well as tour outfits.
Y/N stood just inside the doorway of the room, leaning her back against the wall, looking expectantly at him. Her eyes were wide and her lips were pursed. She was dressed simply in a white satin skirt and a matching cropped button-up, they both had cream flowers embroidered on, paired with horsebit slim Gucci mules. Her style was eclectic, but she had definitely noticed an increase of Gucci in her wardrobe since starting her employment with Harry.
Y/N’s passion in life was fashion and clothes and she constantly worried that one of Harry’s outfits wouldn’t deliver as much as she wanted it to. He was quick to tell her not to worry so much though, as long as they both were happy with it, how could anyone else not love it. Plus, he’d always add, it didn’t really matter what anyone else thought. But as more and more events began to crop up, Y/N’s worry over her work grew. She had only been the head stylist for Harry on projects that were still underwraps - except for Lights Up which had been released a couple weeks ago now.
The first project she ever worked on with Harry as his full-time personal stylist was the Lights Up music video. She had never worked so closely with one person for so long on just one project. Harry was insistent in vision and came in the first day filled with ideas, what he imagined for the video's concept and how he wanted to incorporate clothes. She had been happy to make his dreams become reality.
The two of them spent hours at his house for weeks, pouring over every detail of every outfit he planned to wear. They both wanted it to be perfect. And eventually, it all came together, exactly how they had planned. All of the garments for the video took up two entire garment racks. Y/N had made Harry pose in every single outfit for polaroids that she dated and then put into a lookbook she started for him. She had told him she planned to document every outfit she styled for him and Harry had been so excited. The outfits he wore in the video were received with praise when it was finally released, and Harry and Y/N were overjoyed. There was already a party for its release, but they both were especially happy that night. Throughout the evening, Harry and Y/N would gravitate to one another and fall into side conversations about the outfits and what people had been saying. Even if Harry said it didn’t matter, he and Y/N both knew, at the end of the day, they loved when people were happy with their work.
“Sure,” he bounced to his feet, but Y/N made a hand motion telling him that he could stay seated. He settled back down as she crossed over and sat beside him on his couch.
She was at his house in London today planning his next few appearances that were promotion for the upcoming album, Saturday Night Live was next. Harry had been taking a break from their work until she had come in.
It wasn’t unusual for Y/N to be at his house, they had been working together for months now. First, it had been for his outfits in his music videos that were filmed in late summer and early fall, like Lights up, but also a few other ones. Now, it was clothing for promo appearances, interviews, and listening parties. Next, it would be tour outfits, which she had already started planning, but officially, they hadn’t started discussions yet. Harry had helped her to get a flat closer to his house in London just for her to be able to head over and help with the planning or fitting of his outfits more easily. She also was constantly traveling with him to his appearances, making sure outfits were perfect right before whatever show it was or making last minute adjustments in case either of them decided something wasn’t right.
While Harry was a big guy, his waist was far trimmer than a usual man built to his size, this meant she had to take in a lot of his trousers at the waist. As well, with his shirts and coats, she’d have to take them in or out depending on how Harry wanted the fit to be - either perfectly tight or perfectly oversized. He was particular, but she appreciated his drive for fashion and how he cared for his appearance. Before performances, she often had to take things in or out based on any body fluctuation that had occurred since the initial fitting.
She was looking at her sketchpad that held all of her notes on his clothes - which was different from the lookbook of polaroids - including patches of the actual colors and little Harry figures dressed in what he was going to wear. Right now, she had the pad opened to a page titled “SNL Opener - November 16, 2019”.
“So I was thinking with your opening monologue outfit, it might look better to have a different colored blazer? A matching yellow would be great, but if you did more of a toned down - maybe light tan or beige - blazer with gold embellishments, you’d elevate it to look sophisticated and stylish, rather than just stylish. It’d be exactly like the runway look - which I know you sometimes don’t like, but I think it’s what looks best.”
She ran her finger between two swatches of what she thought would be the better blazer color and the one Harry had originally wanted. He wet his lips and gazed at the page as he thought about what she said. Normally, she liked monochrome on him, but she thought the deep blue underneath a completely yellow suit might wash him out on the stage.
“Yeah,” he pointed to the top beige swatch, “I think I do like this better.” He paused and turned his head to Y/N, looking in her eyes before asking, “Is that all?”
“Er...no,” Y/N ran a hand over her unstyled hair, slightly fluffed by her constant musing of it. She often fiddled with it while she worked, better than biting nails she always said when confronted about her tick. After a sigh Y/N continued, “I was just on the phone with Jane from Gucci and she said that for Look 57 they could only send your technical size, for some reason they can’t custom make it. Meaning, I’ll have to tailor the whole thing to you when it arrives. Is that alright? Or do you want to choose something else?”
She flipped to a page that said “SNL WS.” Harry followed her hands and nodded realizing she was talking about the Gucci suit he wanted to wear for Watermelon Sugar. It was a watermelon’s inside red. When he had found out the suit came in that color, he had danced around the dining table for what Y/N had felt like was an hour, humming the tune of Watermelon Sugar excitedly. Finally, she had coaxed him to sit back down and get back to their other work, which was still picking out clothes.
“No, that’s fine,” Harry shook his head and used his thumb to scratch under his lips absentmindedly, “It really needs to be that color.”
She nodded, she knew what his answer was going to be, but she also knew he still liked to make the final decision.
“Alright, we’ll just have to meet for longer when everything arrives, to tailor that one. Then the rest of them should just be making sure the fit is perfect.”
She rose up from her seat and patted Harry’s shoulder, leaving him to his thoughts, as she went back to finish up the calls with Jane and the designers.
He caught her hand in his before she completely walked away, “Thank you, Y/N.” He was so grateful he had hired someone who was as driven as he was and understood his fashion sense and wanted to help enhance what he was thinking, rather than someone trying to control him or just going along with whatever he said. Neither would be productive or helpful, thankfully Y/N loved her job and cared to do things right.
She grinned before exiting, “H, you’re going to be this century’s style icon if it’s the last thing I do.” He laughed as she walked out of the room, leaning back on the couch to continue his lurking on Instagram.
One week later
“I’m here, H! I come bearing Gucci and more!” Y/N said as she shuffled through Harry’s front door, she held a deconstructed rack and a garment bag filled with heavy suits and things. Inside were Harry’s four most important outfits for SNL, some other garments for SNL, and some clothes they had talked about for his upcoming listening sessions later in the month. Y/N needed to check the fit on all of them and begin tailoring the Watermelon Sugar suit. The key Harry had given to Y/N, previously, had let her in, but she assumed he was home. He said he’d be.
When Y/N rounded the corner she found another empty room. Confused, she set down her large items and went to search for Harry. Y/N literally needed him to be here for this part. It was the only real time she actually needed to see him in person - but that was beside the point.
She wandered through the different rooms of his home. Normally, Y/N didn’t go into the other rooms, she was always mainly in his lounge area, the dining room, and a little casual office room he had - sometimes the kitchen for water, his bedroom once. Still not finding him, she decided to venture to the furthest door, Harry’s bedroom, she remembered.
Harry groaned at the sound of a knock on his door, he rolled over in his bed. After a few moments of hearing nothing else than his groan, Y/N felt like she had to go in and check on him.
“H, it’s 12:30 and we agreed we’d meet at noon. Are you feeling alright?”
Y/N moved into the room and found a shirtless Harry surrounded by rumpled sheets, clutching at a pillow. He groaned into his pillow again in response. Her legs bent at the edge of the bed and she reached out to smooth some of his chestnut hair out of his face, “What’s wrong?”
He moved his head to allow his eyes to look at her, “‘M so tired, don’t know why. My stomach kind of hurts too…” Y/N looked at him quizzically, before running her hand over his tan forehead once more, this time checking for a fever. “You don’t have a fever. When did you go to sleep? Have you eaten anything today?” With her help, Harry moved into a seated position, head tilted back against the bedpost. He sat silent for a moment before blowing air out of his mouth. “Went to sleep kind of late for me, I guess...Haven’t eaten.”
“Ok, you’re just tired from staying up late, you old man, and you might be a little dehydrated and hungry. Listen, I’ll go make you some food if you get up and prepare yourself for the day. We need to get all your clothes fitted so that I can fix anything before next week.” Y/N was always good at getting Harry back on track when he got distracted - or even out of the station, when he wasn’t in the mood to work on something. She slid from her perch on the bed and walked to almost the edge of the room before Harry called her back.
“Can you pick out my clothes for me?” His soft, tired voice whined. “So hard...and you’ve got the best eye. Pleaseeee,” he pleaded softly.
Rolling her eyes, Y/N sighed and made her way back into his room. Crossing to the door that led to his walk-in closet, she set to work. As silly as he was being, she could never pass up on a chance to pick out an outfit for Harry.
“You’re literally going to be changing the entire time, H, you could have just thrown on sweats,” she called back to him once inside the smaller room. He repeated how she always picked the right thing, even for just around the house. Again, Y/N rolled her eyes at Harry, but she also couldn’t hide the warm smile on her face that was due to his compliment.
She couldn’t believe how dramatic Harry could be sometimes. Right now, he was a lesser form of hungover and he was acting like his life was ending. Y/N had made a note a while ago to never agree to a meeting on the day after any partying. She learned the hard way one particularly terrible Sunday. She had come round his house at a similar time, noon-ish and found Harry dead asleep, backwards in his bed. When she had roused him, his only responses were grumbles and groans. She had to not only pick out his clothes, but also help dress him. Then, after providing water and aspirin, she moved all their work into his bedroom so they could work from there. Harry had proved to be a baby when it came to hangovers. But, she hadn’t realized he could get like this even without being truly hungover.
After settling on his live aid t-shirt, that Y/N was eternally jealous of, located at the front of his drawer and his favorite corduroy trousers, she walked out and threw them in the direction of his toned, but slumped body. “I will not get you boxers, that is most definitely not in my job description, Boss.” Y/N sent a pointed look in his direction, moving to finally leave the room. While he was technically her boss as her employer, their work relationship was extremely collaborative and it never felt like he was in control of her, she just liked to give him shit for being a drama queen.
“Guess I’ll be going commando. How’s that going to work with me changing in front of you a bunch of times?” He teased right back, taking the clothes you had thrown at him and giving them a onceover. His teasing signalled that he was already feeling better.
Y/N shook her head and walked out of the room, “For the love of God, Harry, please put on underwear before you come out and continuously strip in front of me!”
The words he shouted after that were muffled, but they were something along the lines of how the human body is beautiful and shouldn’t be covered up. Unbelievable. As she set to work on making both of them some lunch, she finally heard Harry begin moving around. They had a lot of work to do as it was and whenever Harry was in a mood, whether it be a good mood or a bad mood, they always seemed to have a hard time focusing.
One night, that could be seen as the poster child for Harry and Y/N’s procrastination, was during the planning for the Adore You music video. Harry was in a super good mood that day and he had brought that energy to their meeting at his house. Y/N was supposed to be fitting him for the various outfits, but Harry, in his mania, ordered an overzealous amount of Chinese food. It took her and Harry hours to even make a dent in the food. And while they passed the time with eating, Harry and Y/N got further and further from their tasks, opting for conversations that included more fun topics than work. They had gossipped about some of the other people they worked with, Harry had begged for “the tea” about some of his other staffers and Y/N was happy to oblige. As much as Y/N would hate to admit it, she loved when they got off of work subjects and talked about how their day’s had been and what has been on their nerves lately. It was a nice way to decompress, it was like hanging out with a friend, except it wasn’t, not really.
Harry shuffled into the kitchen wearing what Y/N had picked out for him. Her smile grew knowing that he hadn’t changed what she’d picked. His confidence in her and her abilities never failed to feel like the biggest compliment.
“Go sit at the dining table, I’ve made us some little sandwiches and then we can decide the order we want to go through the outfits in.”
Before following Y/N’s orders, Harry continued his shuffling around, first to the cabinet for a glass, then to the fridge for water. At the end of the table, she set the plates between the head of the table’s spot and the one to its left. Harry took the side spot, so Y/N was on the end. After a bite of his food, Harry moaned loudly in contentment. This caused an amused look on Y/N’s face, there had been nothing special in his house so she had just made what was possible. This meant that Harry’s satisfaction was a little over the top.
“You’re acting like you haven’t eaten in a week. What did you do last night that got you in such a twist?” Y/N asked as she took a sip of her own glass of water. Harry nibbled at his lower lip after swallowing, trying to understand why he was particularly tired today.
“I guess I forgot to eat properly yesterday and then I went out running. And I stayed up late on the phone with,” he paused, eyes flashing to Y/N and then away again, “someone for SNL.”
Y/N hummed at his words before going back to her own eating. She didn’t understand why he hesitated about telling her he’d been on the phone last night, it especially irked her that he wouldn’t even say with whom. Professionally, it wasn’t really her business, but Harry was never secretive with her. Plus, it seemed to be work related so why was he being so flighty about it.
Moving forward, Harry peppier from eating and simply moving around, the pair set to work. They decided on trying on everything else first and then saving the Watermelon Sugar suit to the end. The other three main pieces for the night fit perfectly, Y/N had to only do minor reworks of certain areas.
“H, I need you to hold still…” Y/N interrupted Harry’s ramblings as she was crouched beside him.
She had to take up the hem on the pant legs so right now she was trying to pin them in the place she and Harry had agreed upon, without messing with the pleats.
“Sorry,” He mumbled, straightening out his back to stand taller.
He stayed quiet for a bit until Y/N popped back up, she looked at her notebook for reference on what she still had to tailor.
“Okay, next, the pants crotch is looking pretty fitted, so I assume you want it taken down a bit,” Y/N said as she got back into her crouching position. “Look in the mirror and tell me where you think letting it out looks best, I don’t have the best vantage point when I’m up this close…” she trailed off, placing her measuring tape directly on top of Harry’s crotch and running it down his leg a ways.
Once done with her first attempt at where she thought was best to let the pants out, she turned her eyes to the mirror that showed Harry in his suit with Y/N on her knees before him. Harry cleared his throat as he looked in the mirror, seeing Y/N with her eyes wide in anticipation in the position she was in made him want to run and hide. Her hands were extremely close to his dick, but it was literally her job, he knew he had to shake the thoughts that were running through his mind.
“Maybe just a bit further up actually, as much as I like the high waist with dropped crotch, I want this suit to have that specifically tailored look,” his hands motioned for Y/N to bring the drop up a ways.
Her hands then brought the measuring tape up, once again grazing over his area. Again, Y/N looked at Harry through the mirror for approval, and this time he gave it and she placed a single pin in the place where the pants would be let out to.
Standing up, Y/N hoped Harry didn’t notice the blush gracing her face. She was a stylist and used to being around naked bodies as well as touching around a man’s crotch when working. But Harry in this suit must have been magic, because she had felt extremely vulnerable on her knees in front of him in it. She had felt flushed the minute he hadn’t liked what she had done initially and she hated that she felt that way for some reason. Beginning to work on the sleeves of the suit set her at ease, Y/N was thankful to no longer be kneeling or in such close proximity to what was under Harry’s pants.
“Anything on your mind of late?” Harry broke the silence.
Y/N hummed with a pin stuck between her lips, folding up the suit jacket’s right sleeve. Plucking it from her mouth after a few silent moments, she said, “Not really, haven’t had time to do much else lately. Always thinking about you,” Y/N flushed as she realized what she had just said. “I mean, thinking about you like about your clothes and when they’re going to arrive and what I need to do about them, not you personally, sorry that came out wrong,” her blush intensified as she rapidly fumbled through her last sentence.
“Oh my god!”
While Y/N had gotten flustered with her words, she managed to stick the pin she was using straight into Harry’s flesh. She immediately removed the pin from where it had stuck him.
“Oh god, I’m so sorry, H, we’ve got to get this off. I need to make sure you’re not bleeding onto the suit.”
Y/N rushed around to Harry's backside and began slipping off his suit jacket as Harry chuckled and began to unbutton the shirt as carefully as possible.
“‘S alright, Y/N, if there’s any blood on the shirt it’ll blend in, blood is practically the same color.” She glared at him through the mirror and Harry continued to laugh, “That is not funny, H, I shouldn’t have stuck you in the first place.”
“No, no,” Harry hushed Y/N as she began to slip off his shirt from one side to the other, taking off the sleeve on the side she hadn’t poked, “you’ve got so much on your plate with all the planning for the upcoming events. Then you worked yourself up over a little slip.” As Y/N carefully unbuttoned the cuff of the sleeve to try and slip off the shirt with the least amount of blood on it as possible, Harry finished with, “I wouldn’t mind if you were just thinking about me, though, an’ not the clothes.”
This time, Y/N was very in control, not willing to let herself slip up a second time today. She didn’t know how to respond to what Harry had just admitted. It wasn’t like this hasn't happened before. Both of them were guilty of making little comments that made it sound like they were interested in each other in a way that was a little different than professional or friendly. But every time the other person always had the responsibility to shut the idea down or completely blow past what their counter had just said.
“Harry…” She began, it was soft and pleading, like she was saying she couldn’t entertain that idea. Examining his forearm, after pulling the shirt completely away and resting it on a nearby chair, she saw a little spot of blood protruding from the pin prick she had caused. “Where do you keep your bandages?” Y/N decided that it was best to brush past Harry’s words this time and went off to find his first aid kit. Harry stood there, shirtless, staring at the blood on his arm. It really wasn’t a lot and it wouldn’t have done anything to the suit, but Y/N was always so careful and never wanted to ruin any of Harry’s clothes.
On her return, Y/N came upon a shirtless Harry perched on the edge of the table, with one arm crossed and his other - that was bleeding - being held slightly away from his body, as if Harry was afraid to touch it. His posture was slumped so Y/N could see his spine curving beneath his tanned honey-soft skin and his shoulder blades slightly flexed. While most of Harry’s body was covered in tattoos, she noticed how the closest tattoo to his back was the small line drawing of a guitar on the back of his left shoulder. Other than that his smooth back was bare. Y/N found it interesting that Harry had never chosen to ink his back. She jogged lightly back into the room and Harry’s head turned to watch her approach. His bottom lip was caught between his teeth as he regarded her. She noticed he was being particularly quiet, but she had no idea why. Maybe he was still tired.
Y/N set to work on finding the correct tissue, neosporin, and bandage for Harry’s small wound. As she worked on fixing up her mistake, Harry’s eyes followed her movements. Green eyes flickering between her hands on his arm and her own eyes focusing on her task.
“After this, I actually can just head home and finish the rest of the work,” Y/N said as she unpackaged the bandage, “I already know where I need to take in the suit sleeves and the shirt’s sleeves were looking fine. So, I can get out of your hair and you can get to sleep early tonight.” She placed the nude toned bandage over Harry’s arm, she was a little sad to find he didn’t own fun bandages. That was something that she expected from Harry, but she resigned that maybe she didn’t know everything about Harry.
Before Harry could speak, Y/N continued, “Don’t rehearsals for the show start tomorrow? When are you flying to New York?” She ran her hand over the bandage, smoothing it in place. Her hand lingered there as her eyes looked up and met Harry’s. Harry twitched his arm away from Y/N’s touch and scratched his nose slightly.
“Yeah, I’m flying out tomorrow morning. When are you set to fly out?”
“Friday. I’ll get in before the final dress rehearsal and then I’ll be there for the show.” Y/N stepped back and began to rehang the suit jacket and shirt that they had discarded in her haste to not get blood on them.
Then Y/N stood there staring at Harry. He looked at her slightly confused by her doing nothing when she said she was leaving. “Pants, H.” She said finally when she realized he had forgotten he was still wearing the suit pants. “Oh! Sorry,” Harry exclaimed as he began to unbutton and remove the pants he was wearing. He handed her the pants and she exchanged them with his live-aid t shirt. He took it graciously before slipping it on and disguising his toned body beneath it. Then he took his pants from earlier and fully redressed himself.
“Damn!” Y/N said and Harry’s head flipped to watch her as she began to put all of the clothing back in their garment bags and take down the rack.
“I just pinched myself with the rack, I’m all left feet today.”
“Here,” Harry chuckled as he walked over to help Y/N, “let me help you with all this. Just in the boot of your car, yeah?” Y/N nodded and smiled in appreciation for Harry. He grabbed her keys laying on the table and then took the rack and a garment bag. Even if things sometimes got tense between them, for whatever reason, he was always quick to move past it and be thoughtful and kind in the best ways for Y/N. After shaking her hand out, she grabbed the last garment bags and followed Harry out to her car. Harry shut the back of her car softly and turned to face Y/N, she stood beside her car door, ever so slightly leaning against it. He walked to her side and smiled.
“I’ll see you in a week,” he said before wrapping his arms around Y/N’s much smaller frame. His body was radiating heat and it felt good against Y/N in the crisp night air of London. She pressed into his hold and wrapped her arms around his waist and squeezed him hard. “Less than...Can’t wait to see you make an absolute fool of yourself out there.” Harry protested her tease with a small, “Hey!” but mostly focused on his hands on her back and the way her hair felt especially soft under his chin. Finally, Y/N pulled away, “Kidding! You’ll be amazing and you’ll look killer while doing it.” She winked before opening her car door and driving off. Harry was left with the lingering scent of her perfume and shampoo mingling in his nose.
It was the Saturday night, November 16th, 2019.
Harry and Y/N were in his dressing room before the show started. His outfits for the night were lined up, except for his opener one that Y/N had just dressed him in. His first change would be for Light’s Up, then a couple skit outfits that had to be moved elsewhere for quick changes, then the Watermelon Sugar suit, and then finally his end of the show casual look. The opener looked incredible, it’s fit was impeccable and Y/N knew people were going to love it.
She stepped back from Harry to give his whole body a once over, the SNL hairstylist had just blown out his hair and given him a sort of middle part. It definitely looked good and paired with the suit - Y/N could already tell it was going to be a hit by all accounts. Harry grinned back at her, doing a little dance to show just how much he was loving his clothes and how excited he was.
Grabbing the lint roller, Y/N gave the lapels of his suit jacket a once over and then moved it slightly out of the way to roll the big collar of Harry’s shirt and the bits of the body of the shirt that were showing underneath the jacket. Basically, Y/N was lint rolling over Harry’s clothed abs. Apparently, that was a ticklish area for Harry because he began to squirm and giggle under the tool’s touch.
She smiled as she said it, so excited for Harry that she couldn’t be mad at his relestness.
“Can’t help it. ‘M so giddy. Plus, I’m a wee bit ticklish.”
Y/N gave him a single laugh before removing the lint roller and smoothing over the shirt against his stomach and then over the lapels when she put the jacket back in place. She adjusted the Gucci reader’s she was wearing today, that were more for decoration than anything, but she liked to pretend they made her see better.
“You look smashing, Mr. Styles. Absolutely gorgeous, if I do say so myself.”
“Are you talking to me or the suit?” Harry asked as he flipped to look in the full length mirror in the dressing room.
“Can’t it be both?”
“Sure,” Harry said, he noticed the clock and realized it was his time to get in places. He leaned down and placed a small kiss on Y/N’s cheek, “It’s my time, thank you, Y/N.” She blushed at his words and actions. As he walked out the door, she called after him, “Break a leg, H!” He sent a final air kiss in her direction before completely disappearing.
She looked at the clothes hanging on the rack in the room and palmed over the fabric. Checking the lapels and brushing the lint roller over the, she finally stepped back and was happy with how they looked. When the show was just about to start, she flitted to the part of backstage where she could watch Harry perform. She giggled along to his monologue and grinned whole-heartedly when the crowd would roar with approval. Y/N had heard all of the jokes already because of the dress rehearsal yesterday, but it didn’t matter. Harry was killing it. She also took time to appreciate how good Harry looked in his suit on stage. In front of the lights and all the people, his suit shined brightly with the pops of blue and yellow and the oversized grey-iege jacket. His soft chestnut hair billowed perfectly to frame his forehead as he sipped from the faux martini. Y/N bit her lip to stifle her laugh. The fact that Harry, her boss and friend, was up on the Saturday Night Live stage with pink and blue nails sipping from a faux martini, it was perfect.
When Harry came back for his first performance change Y/N was right there waiting for him.
“Hi, that was really good,” she smiled up at him as he began to take off his coat.
He smiled brightly back at her as he exhaled a hefty breath, “You think so?”
“Yes! C’mon, everyone loved it. You delivered it all perfectly…” she took over undoing the buttons on the shirt because Harry was moving too slowly. “I’m in a man band now…” Y/N mumbled under her breath before chuckling.
“Did you just imitate my accent?” Harry said, now pulling off his sleeves.
Y/N moved around his back to take the shirt to hang and grab his Lights Up outfit. They worked like a well-oiled machine together, constantly taking over roles to get things done more efficiently, but never stepping on each other’s toes.
“Nope,” she winked before handing him the black sequin jumpsuit and exchanging it for his yellow pants. After rehanging the pants and bringing over Harry’s different set of boots, Y/N said, “Y’know, I’d have to say that your hair is giving your suit a run for its money.” She placed the shoes on the table beside Harry and began to fix into the place different parts of the jumpsuit, moving to zip up the back and then coming to the front to smooth it.
“What do you mean?” Harry looked in the mirror and delicately touched the edges of his hair, considering Y/N’s statement.
“No one ever really sees it how it is, nicely blown out but not too much product so it falls to frame your face. What’d you tell the hair person you wanted?” Y/N stepped back to allow Harry to change his boots from one Gucci pair to another, like he did with most of his wardrobe.
“Just told them to make me look mature. You think it looks good?” He looked up at Y/N when he asked the question.
“Think it looks sexy, that’s what I’m saying, no one’s gonna be able to focus on your clothes with how good your hair looks.”
“Ah,” he deftly runs his hands down his suit as he looks in the mirror.
Y/N just stares at Harry, checking him over one more time. She wasn’t lying about his hair, it was sexy and she wanted to run her hands through it to feel how soft it was. In a complete friend way of course.
“I like it…”
“It looks like you just rolled out of bed, but the bed was made of angel feathers.”
Harry laughed at Y/N’s description. He shifted his body to face her more and moved closer to her in the process.
“Alright, you should probably get back out there,” Y/N closes the gap between them and adjusts the chain of his jade and silver crosses and brushes over his broad shoulders.
They’re professional touches, but her movements hold an undercurrent of intimacy that neither of them realize. If anyone had been looking on, they would see how Y/N’s fingers delicately caressed Harry’s skin right before she cradled the pendants to move them in place. They would also see Harry instinctively lean forward into her touch and breathe slightly deeper to take in her scent. When she brushes over his shoulders, he straightens up at the touch and shows he’s ready to get back out there. It’s as if she prepared him to go.
Harry sings Lights Up and the crowd loves it. Sarah kills her drumming and Mitch eats up lead guitar. The backup singers bring out a different tone to the song. It is all around an amazing performance.
As Y/N clapped along with the crowd from backstage, Aidy Bryant approaches her.
“You’re Harry’s stylist, right?”
Y/N turns her head at the woman next to her, “Yeah?”
Aidy smiles, eyes slightly gleaming, “Well, you’re wonderful at your job.” As Y/N is about to thank her, Aidy continues, “And Harry knows that too, he talked about you all week. We all thought you were his girlfriend at first.”
Y/N laughed lightly and had to keep herself from letting her jaw drop at Aidy’s words. She even choked a bit on her own spit and had to cough slightly before even being able to think of a response, “Well, um, yeah...no, H, Harry is just my employer and...friend. No dating, we just get along well. Which is important since we spend a lot of time together - for work of course!”
Aidy smiled sweetly at Y/N, “Yeah, Harry explained that when Beck asked him how long you’d been together. At first he had said a couple months and then said ‘wait, Y/N is just my stylist, we’ve been working together for a couple months’ and then we all felt really dumb.”
“Don’t feel dumb,” Y/N reassured her, unsure why she was actually continuing this conversation, “He loves to talk about clothes and that’s where I fit in to his life, so I’m sure my name would come up a fair bit. Was that it?”
“Yeah I guess, but-” Aidy began to say more, but Y/N cut her off.
“Oh gosh, I’m sorry, but Harry’s finished and I’ve got to go help him change for his next song.”
Aidy was left in Y/N’s wake, chuckling to herself, fully reassured about the reason that they had all thought Harry had been dating Y/N. Because they already acted like a couple. And they were both helplessly in love with one another and neither of them knew.
The rest of the show went off without a hitch. Harry continued to wow the crowd and Y/N sent him off from his dressing room always looking fabulous. Just as he was about to walk back on stage for his final farewell, Y/N noticed a tiny string on his trousers zipper. Unable to stop Harry and unable to grab at the string without looking odd, she had to let him walk on stage with it. It wasn’t actually a big deal, but Y/N sighed in annoyance because she knew that string was going to bug her for the rest of the night.
“Treat People With Kindness!” Harry finishes off his farewell.
Applause begins to sound and the cast is out front hugging and chatting, while Y/N is watching from the side still fixated on the string on Harry’s pants, now simply dangling. Finally, they begin to clear the stage because it’s time for the after party. Y/N knew there was no stealing Harry away to fix the problem that was now fixated in her mind. Every cast and crew member was trying to talk to him, congratulating him, hugging him, anything to spend time with the incredible man. Y/N couldn’t blame them, but she also wanted to be able to go some place quiet and debrief with Harry about his outfits. She wanted to look up what people were saying about his clothes and discuss the critiques with Harry. She also wanted to start discussing what was coming next with Harry. But most of all, she just wanted to hang out with Harry.
What Y/N wanted wasn’t going to happen anytime soon, which she knew, but it still only grew her annoyance with that string. If only she could get it off of him, maybe then her mind would be able to relax a little.
She meandered backstage, resigned she wouldn’t be talking to Harry for a while. There she went to find the band’s dressing room, knowing she would find Mitch or Sarah who she’d be happy to talk to. They weren’t ones for the spotlight and no one ever really seemed to want to brownnose with them at events like this. Y/N had met them a few times.
The first was when Harry had asked Y/N to meet him in the studio in mid July, Mitch and Sarah had both been there helping Harry finish up something for the album. Y/N never asked what, she liked music quite a bit, but when it came to the technical part of it, it went completely over her head. Harry had introduced them both and they seemed lovely. After that, she had seen them around for an event or two of Harry’s. It wasn’t much, but it was more than any of the other people around right now.
Just as she was about to knock on the door it swung open, revealing Harry’s entire backing band. “Hey,” Y/N said sheepishly, “Harry’s being fawned over by the masses and I don’t actually know anyone else here. Is it alright if I hang out with you all at this after party? I doubt there’s going to be anyone really dying to meet the stylist.”
She smoothed her own clothes as she spoke. Y/N wanted to look professional tonight because sometimes when she was dressed in more fun or “young” clothes she got mistaken for someone who had snuck in. The only thing that got people to not question her authority to be where she was, was a card that read ‘staff’ that she would clip onto whatever she was wearing at places like this. Tonight, she chose a pair of purple plaid pants, a sleek lilac tank underneath a cream knit shawl, and cream Gucci mules. Ever since Harry took an interest in Y/N’s pearl necklace, she had largely stopped wearing hers because she hoped never to be photographed matching with him. However, she had known the pearls would have completed the look, even putting them on in her hotel room, twisting a pearl in her hand as she looked in the mirror, and then taking the necklace off again and settling on a different silver necklace instead. The ‘staff’ card was clipped to her pants pocket tonight.
“Of course!” Sarah said as the band began to file out of the room, “You might want to take your tag off now, though, you’re done working for the night.”
Her laughter rang sweetly through Y/N’s ears and she smiled back before removing her identifying card. She hated the piece of plastic and was glad to take it off, it never went with her outfits, but she had gotten tired of taking out her business card every time someone asked what she was doing. Y/N was sure that during the tour she’d be fine without it, but as Harry’s show appearances were beginning to ramp up she knew it would be helpful to have.
“Thanks...you all were amazing out there tonight. Second time on the SNL stage right?”
The group of you began to walk in the direction of where the after party was being held. Mitch piped up, “Thanks. Yeah, I love their box stage setup, it’s pretty cool.” Y/N was happy that she had people who were easy to talk to so that she wouldn’t be alone tonight.
Arriving in the room of the party, they were all quick to grab the alcohol that was being provided at the pop up bar. Y/N wasn’t normally a fan of drinking at events like these, mainly because she was not usually invited to this part of the night and when she was she wanted to be alert. But she figured there wasn’t much else to do so she took a hearty sip of the champagne. It was a little sweet, her face scrunched.
“Too sweet?” Mitch questioned when he saw Y/N’s face.
“Just a little for my taste.”
“Harry’s not going to be drinking tonight then. So particular about his alcohol,” Mitch continued.
Y/N laughed, “Well I’m glad, then I don’t have to deal with him being a baby about his hangover tomorrow.”
Mitch quirked an eyebrow at Y/N’s statement. Sarah and the others in the band had dispersed to mingle with the SNL party goers, leaving Mitch and Y/N to their conversation.
Realizing what she said could be seen as slightly weird out of context, Y/N quickly started again, “because I’m supposed to go shopping with Harry tomorrow. He wanted to go to Gucci and a couple other stores here before flying to LA. I’m going back to London until the listening parties, so we need to figure out the finishing touches for those and..” Y/N trailed off trying to remember which looks weren’t completed yet for the next few shows, Mitch waited patiently, “a few of the suits for the Late Late Show. He’s not happy with one of them so we might switch it. But anyway, you know how he is with a hangover. Proper child.”
Mitch threw his head back in laughter at Y/N’s serious look that she gave him. “Yeah, he can be...a lot. I meant to tell you, Harry looked great tonight. All of the clothes were fantastic,” Mitch added.
He was kind and Y/N appreciated him sticking with her. The two of them had rested themselves against a wall near the bar, sipping their champagne and enjoying each other’s company.
Mitch opened his mouth to say something else, but Heidi Gardener, another SNL member interrupted.
Y/N and Mitch both turn to her, equally taken aback by the sudden burst of energy from this person they didn’t really know. Y/N nodded.
“Oh my gosh! You have to tell me where you got the jacket Harry is wearing!”
Heidi even goes as far to point in Harry’s direction. Y/N knows what she’s talking about, but her eyes still wander to where she pointed. Harry stood in a clump of people, surrounded by Ben Winston, James Corden, and the Gerbers who had all come to watch. She sighed as she watched his eyes shine as he laughed with a smile on his face. She hoped that by now the string had fallen off his pants by now, if not she was going to kick herself later.
“Oh, it’s Bode,” Y/N’s eyes coming back to meet Heidi’s happy face, “but it’s custom made from a vintage blanket. There’s only two that exist.”
Y/N and Mitch watched as Heidi’s face dropped.
“And I’m pretty sure the designer owns the other one,” Y/N added, “Sorry.”
Heidi smiles and jokes, “Know any ways I could possibly get Harry to give me his?”
“He loves that coat. I have no idea what you could possibly do to convince him he didn’t need it anymore.”
“Sex, probably,” Mitch says under his breath.
Heidi doesn’t catch it as she walks back off and Y/N turns to swat him with her free hand.
“What? He always gives away his clothes to girl’s he has crushes on.” Y/N rolls her eyes at Mitch’s words.
“Probably best if you don’t inform the masses about that,” a new voice says.
Unbeknownst to Mitch and Y/N, Harry had broken away from his entourage to steal a few minutes with his two friends, his best friends if he was being honest. They laugh together as he wraps his arms around their shoulders and pulls them both into his chest. Y/N feels the warmth radiating from Harry’s body as she snuggles into his side. Her hand wraps under his jacket and around his waist to squeeze right about his hip bone. His face is gleaming with a small sheen of sweat, but his smile is so big she barely notices his perspiration as he looks down at her.
“Heard you were talkin’ shit?”
Mitch quips, “Us? Never.”
Harry scoffs, “Come off it!”
When he releases Y/N and Mitch from his grasp, Mitch straightens up while Y/N’s eyes immediately go down to Harry’s crotch. She’s not paying attention to their conversation as she tries to make out in the dim light whether the string is gone or not. The men realize she’s not listening and they both follow her gaze.
Confused, Harry asks, “Y/N, any particular reason you’re staring at my dick?”
Her head shoots up, eyes wide and cheeks flushed from embarrassment.
Mitch laughs and decides he wants another glass of champagne right then, mumbling something about how that was his cue. Harry smiles, knowing she wasn’t doing what he had said, but still intrigued to know what was going on in her mind.
“You had a string right on your zipper and it’s been bugging me since you went out for your outro. This is the first time I’ve seen you on your own and I couldn't exactly go up to you in a random crowd and grab at your crotch. But now I can’t see in this light…” Y/N bit at her lower lip and furrowed her brow still trying to see if the string was there.
“Have you really been thinking about it this whole time?” Harry asked, slightly concerned.
“Yes...I know it doesn’t matter, but I just want your clothes to look perfect.”
Harry takes a deep breath as he makes a small smile at Y/N. Then he brushes over the front of his pants, hoping he removes the string if it's still attached to him. “There, I’m sure it’s gone now. I’m sorry you had to worry about that. Just know everyone I’ve talked to has been raving about the clothes.” He placed his ring-clad hand on Y/N’s upper arm and squeezed it.
“You did an amazing job,” Y/N said.
Harry pulls her into his chest one more time. This time without Mitch so both of Harry’s arms go around her shoulders and both of hers go around his slender waist. Again her hands disappear under his coat and thumb over his warm white t-shirt, her face resting on his chest right next to the word ‘Sex’. His arms tighten around her back as they rest there for a while. Y/N always has to make herself pull away, knowing that Harry will stay there for as long as he can - in anyone’s embrace - and remembering they’re in a public setting, she didn’t want anyone to assume things, even if she had already been made aware that people had.
“We’ll debrief more later tonight, yeah? The champagne is terrible so I won’t be drinking,” Harry said.
Y/N laughed under her breath as she smiled at his words. Mitch and her knew Harry too well. She nodded about getting together later, “Alright. Get back to your fan club.” Harry narrowed her eyes at her words, not sure if she was trying to sound sarcastic or not.
Hey, I’m back at the hotel. Just let me know when you want to debrief :) x
Y/N texted Harry the minute she got back to the hotel, she had no idea if he had left before her or was still at the after party. All she knew was that it was late and she was starting to get tired. Still, it was important for them to talk about their plans for tomorrow and she also really wanted to just be with him alone. Whenever they would debrief after big events Harry and Y/N would laugh at all the outrageous stuff they had seen go on throughout the night.
When she was still a freelance stylist she had helped Harry to plan his Camp outfit at the Met Gala. That night, they never even went to bed and had to debrief about the clothes the next afternoon over tea at the Palace. Both her and Harry were recovering from their exhaustion and nursing equally terrible hangovers. But there they were, sitting in the center of the dining area of the hotel, being served some of the nicest tea and sandwiches Y/N had ever had. It was amazing. Y/N had never felt that rich in her life before and Harry had told her the craziest stories about the most famous people in attendance. It was almost unbelievable what these people would reveal to Harry and Y/N was happy to listen to all of it, promising to never tell anyone else. That outing was probably the first time Harry realized he really liked Y/N and wanted to work more closely with her.
While tonight wasn’t quite as wild as the Met Gala had been, Y/N was still excited to hear any funny stories Harry might have in addition to their clothing talk. They really hadn’t had much time to chat since she had gotten to New York yesterday so it would be nice to just be alone together. Even if Y/N chalked their debriefs up to ‘shop talk’, she was always very excited for them.
As she reached her hotel room door, her phone buzzed with a message from Harry.
I’m still out, but should be heading back soon. Up to you if you want to wait up or we can just debrief in the morning while we shop. x H
Y/N sighed at the message, she wanted to wait up and debrief before tomorrow, if not for alone time with Harry but professionally for being able to plan out their shopping tomorrow. Where Harry was carefree, Y/N was meticulous and planned out. She liked to have fun, but she knew when she had to get her work done, even when Harry was off in his own mind. Their work styles mostly coincided, Harry could be serious and focused, too, but often when he was surrounded by all his famous friends he had a hard time saying ‘no’ to whatever came up. So Y/N knew that Harry’s definition of ‘soon’ could range from actually soon to almost dawn. She really hoped he actually meant soon, so she shot him a text saying:
Just knock on my room and if I open it we can debrief lol x
Harry smiled down at his phone when Y/N’s text came through, slightly chuckling before double tapping and placing a heart reaction of her text. Then he was pulled into the limo that one of his friend’s had gotten them and was handed a flute of champagne.
Back at the hotel, Y/N threw her phone on the bed and decided to change and simply settle in for the night. If Harry made it back, he made it back and if he didn’t she’d wake up well rested.
Maybe thirty minutes into scrolling on her phone, Y/N heard a rough knock on her door. She was actually quite surprised that Harry had indeed been back soon. Rising from her snuggled place in the bed, she shifted around her night clothes and padded to her door. There stood, rather hung, a slightly disheveled Harry. His hair was whipped into disaster, something was smudged on his face, and she noticed a stain on his t-shirt that hadn’t been there the last time she’d been with him.
He slurred her name as he stumbled through the doorway. Y/N closed her eyes and sighed in exasperation. She was in awe that somehow Harry hadn’t gotten off his ass in the past hour and a half.
“What happened to not drinking tonight?”
She walked beside him and helped shove him into a sitting position on her bed. He flapped his arms, chaotically trying to get his plaid jacket off. Throwing her phone in the direction of her pillow, she moved to help Harry with his jacket. After quite a bit of strugglings, Y/N finally got the Bode jacket off of him successfully and threw it onto the nearby chair. Sighing, she settled beside him.
“So, Harry, care to explain?”
“Hi, Y/N…” He swayed slightly, attempting to face Y/N more. She threw out a hand to his shoulder, gripping him tightly to try and steady him.
“We went in this limousine, and they had champagne - good champagne - and I drank a bottle or so pretty quickly.”
“Or so? Oh Harry...I mean you’re free to make your own choices, but I don’t know if this was one of your best.”
“Wasn’t...wasn’t my idea. I was planning on just going back to the hotel. Then James convinced me to come out for a bit. Then the champagne was looking good so I went for it.”
“Like I said, you can make your own choices,” she patted his arm and went to the en suite bathroom to wet a washcloth to clean off his face.
“So, is it champagne on your shirt or am I going to have to go through hell to get the stain out?” She called.
Harry groaned and leaned back on the bed, fingering at the crisp white sheets. “Champagne,” he finally muttered as Y/N reappeared into the dim room, only the outside world and the light in the bathroom lighting this area.
“And on the face?”
She climbed onto the bed and kneeled beside Harry’s prone body, beginning to swipe at the smudge on his face. He tilted his head to face her, bringing the cheek with the dirt to lay facing perfectly up. His jawline showed perfectly and she felt the strength that laid beneath the skin she was washing.
His eyes flitted up to her face, trying to stop the spins he was currently experiencing. He hadn’t thought he was that drunk until he had been required to find his way up to their floor on his own.
She sighed, running the washcloth over his cheek once more, and tried to push the image of some woman (or man who wore lipstick, she guessed) with her lips all over Harry’s face. She didn’t want to know who it was or why it was. It was too hard, especially after the day of people asking her about Harry and her relationship and insinuating things about him and his romantic life. She just liked to keep the words Harry and romance apart as much as possible, it made her life easier that way.
“It was only from-”
“It’s ok, Harry, I don’t need to know who you were…” She stopped herself, not even wanting to say ‘kissing’ or ‘snogging’ or even worse ‘shagging’. Adults were human beings and they could do a lot in an hour and a half. And again, she didn’t want to know.
“You keep doing that. Are you mad at me?”
“Calling me Harry, not ‘H’. Is it because you’re mad at me?”
“No,” she sighed, shifting to sit more casually, “No, I’m not mad at you. I just wasn’t expecting you to show up at my door like this. I try not to worry about you, but then when you show up like this, it kind of affirms I had reason to be concerned.”
She took a hand and smoothed over Harry’s tousled hair, he rolled his head back to face the ceiling. “Like I said, you’re an adult, capable of making his own decisions. And, I am just your stylist. I’m just glad you made it up here and knocked on my door. Probably would have given someone else a fright.”
He laughed, starting to sober up as the spinning in the room stopped. Her hands on his face and hair were soothing and sobering.
“Thank you for caring about me, love. And going beyond being just my stylist, you’re my friend Y/N.”
His eyes flickered shut and Y/N stared at his soothed features. His words were still slurred and she was sure the use of love was just his britishness slipping through his drunken state. The part about being more than a stylist, she tried to push it away, telling herself not to read more into it than her heart would like to. Even though he said she was a friend as well as a stylist and not anything more, it still sent so much joy through her body. He didn’t just see her as a work colleague and he had said it. But in his inebriated state, Y/N didn’t want to take everything he said as gospel.
She moved him up the bed with a little bit of his sleepy self’s help into a more comfortable position. It was pretty late now and she wasn’t going to kick him out. It would have been rude and unkind and that were two things Y/N rarely was. She went and grabbed the extra blanket from the cabinet and draped it over Harry’s large body for extra warmth since he refused to get under the covers. She also slipped off his boots and stained shirt per his request before getting into the other side of the bed and falling asleep.
She awoke to a shifting body beside her and she sat up confused as to who it could be. Quickly, Harry showing up drunk at her door came flooding back and she turned to look at the groaning Harry beside her. His arm was thrown over his face as he moaned, just waking up as well and experiencing the first bits of his hangover. This was going to be a long day.
“Hullo,” his voice was especially low, groggy and hoarse from the night before. He peaked over at her from behind the crook of his elbow. His eyelids barely open and his eyelashes weighing them down so much so that she could barely see his sleepy jade eyes.
“Good morning, H. Have a nice rest?” Y/N sat up and began to ready herself for the day, rummaging through her suitcase for an outfit and moving about the room.
Harry’s arms went to his sides as he worked to sit up, eyes following her figure as she moved around, seemingly not groggy very much unlike him. “Erm...I’m sorry for showing up pissed.”
“S’fine, H. Just glad you didn’t end up in a ditch or someone’s bed - someone’s that you might regret…” She barely regards him, throwing a single glance his way before shuffling to the bathroom to change. She knows they’ll be photographed today, it’s almost inevitable right now. Everyone knows Harry is in New York and people are buzzing to see him after his performance last night. She slips on the 70s inspired dress, the v-neck and long sleeves settling perfectly on her frame, it hugs her curves and lands around mid-thigh. Rolling on the bold mustard yellow tights and strapping up the brown leather mary jane heels, she looks herself over in the mirror. She then tries to tame her hair and do the rest of her routine, knowing she needed to get on with the day, shopping first and flying home second. Making sure Harry was okay was also on that list, but she couldn’t pretend like she wasn’t a little disappointed in him after last night.
When she returns, Harry is sitting with his legs hanging off the edge of the bed, head hanging as he’s hunched over himself. “C’mon, you gotta get going, kid. Lots to do today.” She’s pacing over to Harry’s deflated figure to pick him up and prompt him to get moving. When she arrives by his side his head lifts and his now more awake eyes stare up at her.
“I’m sorry for yesterday, really. I mean it.”
“I told you already. It’s fine.”
“It’s not - or it wasn’t. You called me ‘Harry’ last night. I don’t think I’ve heard you call me that to my face since we started working together. I took your answer last night because I was swimming in it, but now, thinking about it. I know you were upset.”
She huffs, taking a seat beside Harry on the bed, choosing to not look at him, slightly confused why she had been so upset and why he was pushing it. “Ok, yeah I was annoyed, but I was also genuinely worried. I didn’t know you could physically get that drunk in that small amount of time. And then you show up at my door with somebody else’s…” Y/N falters, catching her slip up and deciding to fix her gaze on her shoes and their intricate design built into the leather.
“You’re upset that I had lipstick on me?” He’s trying to meet Y/N’s gaze, but her eyes are really interested in her shoes. His tone is confused, he’s trying to understand what’s going on in her mind.
She scoffs, risking a glance to Harry but then returns quickly back to her dress this time. “Please...it was just inconvenient for me, okay? Thought we were going to debrief and stayed up late for you. Then I had to take care of you after you hung out with your famous pals and I had barely even seen you all day. Felt a bit used.”
Harry shifted in the bed, turning to face her by tucking one leg beneath him. He places a hand on hers that was placed on the end of her dress. Her eyes finally meet with his and she feels her breath slightly catch in her throat. His eyes are piercing, his gaze intense, maybe even a tinge of anger. “Y/N, I would never have come to your room if I even had an inkling that this would be how you’d interpret it . Even though I was drunk, I wanted to see you, that’s why I came up here, because I wanted to be with my friend, one of my best friends, not because I just needed some pushover to care for me.”
She sighs, feeling icky still about the whole situation. She sometimes found herself in fights that she never intended, she wished she hadn’t said anything at all. But she also knew that wasn’t healthy either. Flipping her hand, she intertwines her fingers with Harry’s and smiles for the first time that morning. His expression softens at it. “Look, I’m sorry too, H. It honestly wasn’t that big of a deal, but I appreciate that you’re such a great guy and boss to want to truly apologize and make sure I’m comfortable and happy… Oh, and I promise I’ll never call you anything but H from here on out - unless you tell me otherwise.”
He cackles unabashedly at her words, before suddenly clutching at his temple with his free hand. “Fuckin’ hangover,” he mumbles. She smiles and stands up, beginning to throw his shirt and shoes from the end of the bed at him, “You need to get ready. Go pop some advil or whatever. My flights at 5 so we haven’t got all day, H.”
“There she is,” Harry grins, beginning to put back on the stained ‘Sex’ shirt.
As he hustles out of the room, shoes in hand, she calls to him one last request, “When you’re in fresh clothes make sure you bring me that stained shirt. Gonna have to spot clean it when I’m back in London!”
“Of course! And we’ll debrief as we shop, yeah?”
The two of them were shouting to each other as the door continued to close on them. Chuckling to herself, she begins to pack up her room, knowing she had to check out before they left. Her spirits already lifted, she doesn’t even notice as she throws Harry’s forgotten Bode jacket into her suitcase with some other items that had been on her chair. She wouldn’t notice it until she was back in London unpacking from the trip.
Shutting the case, she springs back up from her crouched position and walks to look in the full length mirror again. Her fingers run the length of her dress, leafing over the slightly darker brown embroidered flowers that were woven into the tan fabric. She squints as she turns sideways and pops a heel up behind her. It looks good, but something is missing. Rummaging through her carry-on she pulls out her old butterfly bandana she used as a head scarf and begins to fix it into place on her head. Placing large sunglasses on the bridge of her nose, she feels like the look is complete and gives herself some poses in the mirror; a peace sign, an air kiss, a Marilyn Monroe. She laughs at herself.
A knock on the door shakes her from her childish fun. Straightening up, Y/N saunters over to the door, swinging it open with ease. “H?”
“You ready?” Harry stands in a fresh pair of Marni trousers paired with a striped orange and mauve Marni sweater. He, like Y/N, had this thing about wearing the brand you planned to shop at. He didn’t always stick to his rule, but he usually didn’t like to wear Gucci when he shopped at Gucci.
“Yeah, just need to check out and drop my baggage at the front to be held for later.” Y/N slips through the door and notes how his outfit compliments hers. She wouldn’t mention it, but it's something to think about since he had known what she was wearing. She wasn’t sure why she noticed things like that, if asked, her answer would probably be that it was the stylist in her, just her job.
Stepping out of a black town car on the side street next to Gucci to go in the side entrance would never get old for Y/N. She had never really enjoyed the idea of fame, but from a young age she had known she wanted to be able to afford the finer things in life. Going into the Gucci store now, especially with Harry, was like going to the candy store once you’re a grown up and can buy whatever you want rather than what your parents will allow you to.
Today, Harry and Y/N didn’t have as much time as they would usually like to spend in the store, but they were just happy to be doing what they loved. Y/N had been ecstatic to find out Harry found shopping to be an essential part of his life and that he liked to do his outfit shopping in person rather than online. Trying on clothes and picking out things you liked just was so much more fulfilling when you were in the physical store. Then make that all happen with Harry Styles as the buyer, then it was a real party. The stores liked to pull out their Champagne and clear the store to allow him privacy, specifically when it was for clothes for projects under wraps. In the beginning of her employment, it was only ever Harry who would do the trying on of clothes, but as the two of them got acquainted and comfortable with each other, she found herself trying things Harry would pick out for her. At first, she would veto some items saying they were too expensive for her, but eventually she learned that her new salary covered whatever it was. She had always enjoyed designer labels and choosing to be a stylist meant she had nice clothes, but only working for Harry had caused her closet to double in size and triple in value.
“So we are looking for some trousers today,” she tells the worker at the store, reminding them of what she had already called ahead about. The employee nods and proceeds to lead them into the room where they had laid out an assortment of pants for Harry to pick from.
“What do you think of these?” Harry walks out and strikes a pose, popping one of his hips to the side and his hands on his hips. The pants strain around his thighs, but fit practically perfectly everywhere else. His slim waist is perfectly encircled by the fabric and he’s decided the sweater he was wearing didn’t match them and he’d rather go shirtless. This choice technically should allow her to solely focus on the pants, but it actually makes her focus that much more diverted. She makes a spinning motion with her pointer finger as she purses her lips. He takes a quick spin and the boot cut slightly flares with his movement. The pants are a dark brown with a single plaid crossing in a lighter brown. They are only lightly flared, which she prefered to the extreme flare that some of Harry’s suits had. She narrows her eyes at the pants to keep her gaze from shifting to the taut muscles of Harry’s arms and torso or the dark ink that licked over his skin in the beautiful designs of his choice.
“They’re nice,” she pulls up a picture of the top part of the outfit he was planning on wearing, “Do you think they match with this though?” Harry walks over to her seated position and bends to look at her phone. His skin radiates heat and the smell of his cologne and she sniffles slightly with her sensitive nose. His eyes flicker to her face when he notices her little noise, but returns to looking at the phone when she doesn’t spare him a glance. She felt his gaze on her, but couldn’t bring herself to look from the phone. She knew his proximity would make it even harder for her to keep her eyes off his naked torso. The expensive smell of Harry mixed with the expensive smell of the store was a lot to handle.
“Yeah...no. You think they’re not right,” she widens her eyes at Harry’s words when he pulls away. He turns to the mirror in the open dressing room and fiddles with the waistline of the pants. “I agree,” he finishes before stalking back into the room and shutting the heavy velvet curtain that worked as the door to it.
He tries on five more pairs of trousers and finally settles on two pairs for the two different listening parties. A heavier, wool-tweed pair that was dark brown and then a lighter brown tweed pair. He was still in the lighter pants as he stared into the mirror. He beckoned to Y/N, and she quickly set down the flute of Champagne she had been sipping at lazily as he admired himself.
“Is it possible for you to take it in a bit more,” he says in a hushed tone to her, not wanting the workers to overhear. They were helpful but if they overheard they would wait for the store to tailor the trousers and he preferred for Y/N to do it. He rubs at the waistline again and she moves closer, her hands going to his sides. Her fingertips graze the naked skin above the trousers and Harry shivers at the coldness of the new touch. She ghosts softly over the waistline herself and smooths the fabric until she’s pinching a small amount on each side. She hums, pulling back from Harry and looking at the fit of them now, examining whether that makes them look better.
Then she nods and smiles up at Harry, “Ever the slender waist,” he grins right back as she admires him. She knew how much he liked praise and she was happy to give it to him, especially when he was so deserving. “I’d say size down, but then your thighs and bum might strain the fabric too much.” His face turns to a smirk as she blushes at her words. She releases the fabric and takes a hand to pat Harry’s smooth chest before walking back to her seat on the lovely couch.
“You sure you don’t want to try anything on, Y/N? Saw some killer boots when we walked in that screamed you.” Harry calls from behind the curtain, presumably getting redressed. Her laugh comes through the curtain slightly muffled, yet still a sweet melody in Harry’s ears.
“Definitely not now, we’re leaving any minute. Plus, I’ve got plenty of Gucci boots, don’t even show me them or I’ll be tempted.”
His laughter rings through the curtains, loud and unrestrained. She smiles to herself, unable to discourage the pleasure that weaves through her at the sound. His presence in all the different ways she experienced it was instantly comforting.
When she arrives back to her London flat, she practically flops on her couch once she’s inside the door. Her luggage forgotten at the door, as she shrugs off her coat. It was around 7 am because she had chosen to take the red eye for some reason. She groaned as she thought about the day ahead of her. Even though Harry was halfway across the globe, she still had plenty of work to do. She had to finalize the outfits for the listening parties now that they had the pants to complete the looks. Then she had to start thinking about Harry’s December appearances. She had sent ahead his Late Late outfits that he had needed in Los Angeles for the pre-filming, but she still had to deal with the outfits for the live part of the show.
Today, she was set to go pick up the other pieces needed for the listening parties as well as items for the Graham Norton Show and Jingle Ball. She was most excited for her travels because that meant looking at brand new clothes that were perfect and gorgeous. She also knew she needed to spot clean Harry’s shirt, which didn’t spark as much joy in her tired mind.
The idea of the shirt staining with alcohol was what brought her out of her snuggling with her comfy couch. Sure, it couldn’t get that bad, but still she was a worrier and it would pain her if the iconic shirt got ruined. She padded back over to her luggage, now without her jacket or shoes. Her major suitcase got flipped on its side and she began to unzip it. It came open easily seeing as it was stuffed with her clothes and various items. She had to rummage a minute for Harry’s shirt that seemed to have run away inside the bag. Finally, the large white shirt made itself known and she grasped it happily.
As she looked over the stain near the collar of the shirt, her eyes traveled to a piece of fabric peeking out of her suitcase. It was a familiar blue, cream and white. A specific fabric she would never misplace, would never not recognize. Harry’s plaid Bode jacket. It was iconic and she loved it, but why did she have it in her suitcase. She definitely didn’t mean to have it, it’s genuinely just one of Harry’s jackets so it wouldn’t make sense for her to bring it back with the show's wardrobe. She tries to think back to yesterday, when she was still in New York. Thinking about why she would have it, she places the memories of Harry coming to her room, taking off his coat, and accidentally leaving it in her room all fit together. She must have just absentmindedly placed it in her suitcase without even realizing. She’s sure Harry wouldn’t mind, she’d shoot him a text, though, to tell him she had it. So he wouldn’t worry about whether he’d lost it or not.
When she gets ready for the day, she finds herself being drawn to blue and cream. Her outfit is understated and she just knows the jacket would finish the look. She loved that jacket and now that she had it, would it be a big deal if she wore it out. She figured it was fine. After she grabbed her purse, keys, and other essentials, she slipped on the coat. Harry was very broad shouldered and it hung oversized on her. She loved the look and snapped a selfie in the mirror before she headed out. While it felt a little narcissistic to constantly take photos of herself, she felt like as a stylist it was important to document her looks just as much as she documented her clients.
What she didn’t think about is just how much the rest of the world liked to document her client and those who were seen with her client. She didn’t think about how she had just been seen with Harry yesterday. That thought didn’t even cross her mind as she walked around the streets of London picking up her work. As she saw some photographers out and about (whom she assumed were for famous celebrities, not her). How it might seem with her wearing the Bode jacket Harry had worn on SNL two nights ago. The Bode jacket that there were only two of.
None of it crossed her mind. Not until it was the end of the day and she had a whole slew of texts from Harry’s manager. A few from Harry, and others but the other fifteen were solely from Jeff. She was a bad texter so as she walked into her flat and finally looked at her phone after putting down all of her garment bags her eyes went wide.
Please tell me you’re not out in London right now!
What are you wearing??
That cannot be Harry’s jacket Y/N
Please call me.
CALL ME. NOW.
- All from Jeff.
She grimaced. The others from her friends including Harry would have to be ignored right now. Even if Harry was her boss, Jeff was who she had to deal with when it came to public appearances and it didn’t seem like she could get around this one. Normally, she never had to deal with him, but it seems today wasn’t normal.
The Originals Masterlist
This is a new masterlist, made in the new post editor.
Link to TVD Masterlist here
*I had to made two separate masterlists, not sure why but I think it had to do with a link limit.
*I've never actually watched The Originals; but I sometimes base oneshots in New Orleans in my own sort of AU
If you find any incorrect or missing links please let me know!
Here is the link to my Main Masterlist
- - - - - - - - - - -
All Imagines - - All Oneshots - - All Headcanons - - General Tag
- - - - -
Birthday Scenario Game (male and female characters)
- - - - - - - - - - -
Headcanons: Being the youngest Mikaelson sister
Headcanons: Characters as Scents
Prank - Reader and Elijah prank his siblings
Reader is the youngest Mikaelson/Protective Siblings
- - - - -
Being in a relationship with Klaus but you fall for Elijah
Having a similar personality to Klaus and it drives Elijah crazy
Failing History and Elijah agrees to help you
Elijah gets you a kitten/puppy because he noticed you’ve been lonely
Elijah comforting you when you feel like you are too childish
Wearing a couples costume with Elijah
The way Elijah looks at you when you cuddle
Klaus & Rebekah catching you and Elijah in the act of PDA
Elijahs face when he sees you after thinking you were dead
The way Elijah kisses you
Walking around with a hickey without realizing
Elijah’s reaction when seeing you after a long time apart
Being in a relationship with Elijah
The ways Elijah says ‘I love you’
Let it Go (angst)
Sharing a bed/I could get use to waking up next to you (fluff)
You said my name in your sleep/You’re my soulmate? (cute/fluff)
You’re hot when your angry/are you jealous? (cute)
You’re a bloody idiot you know that?/You love me (humor)
Quit it or I’ll bite (humor)
Fake Date Jealousy/We would make a pretty good couple (cute)
Rock My DNA (NSFW)
I think my fangs are coming loose (humor)
Fake Boyfriend (cute)
Reader is feeling blue/Elijah cheers them up (comfort)
Sick Reader - Nurse Elijah (cute/comfort)
First Meeting; Christmas Party (cute)
Ship Drabble (Reader Insert) - Friends to Lovers (cute/comfort)
‘Hello Again’ (angst/reunion)
*Part two coming soon
'A Christmas Kiss' (romantic/fluff)
Split Heart: (angst/romance)
Part One - Part Two - Part Three - Part Four - Part Five (end)
- - - - -
Klaus finding your glasses and trying them on
Being in a relationship with Klaus but you fall for Elijah
Having a similar personality to Klaus and it drives Elijah crazy
Being an old friend of Klaus and seeing him for the first time in years
Neglected sister of Elena makes a deal with the devil
Klaus teaching you how to dance
Being sired to Klaus (Salvatore!Sibling)
Being Stefan and Damon’s sister and Klaus liking you
Klaus & Rebekah catching you and Elijah in the act of PDA
Being Hopes twin sister/Relationship with your father Klaus
Klaus reacts to the reader getting hurt
Dating Klaus Mikaelson
Being plus-sized and dating Klaus
Being a teenager and being “baby sat” by Klaus
Being Henrick’s twin and your relationship with Klaus
First Meeting with Siblings + First Kiss (cute/fluff)
Spending Quarantine with your boyfriend Klaus
Being a Winchester and dating Klaus (Crossover AU)
Klaus Fic - Part One - Pipe the fuck down asshole (humor)
Klaus Fic - Part Two - Final - Zero fucks given, next please (humor)
Why Me? (angst/romance)
Klaus teaches the reader how to dance (cute)
In a relationship and sired to Klaus (Salvatore!Reader)
Married to Klaus (Salvatore!Reader)
If your going to dress like that, I’m not going to let you out of my sight (suggestive)
“I’m not the only one with blood on their hands”… (angst/humor)
- - - - -
Being a Falconer and showing Rebekah your Falcons
Being friends with Rebekah
Klaus & Rebekah catching you and Elijah in the act of PDA
Dating Rebekah Mikaelson
- - - - -
Headcanons: Dating Kol Mikaelson
Imagine: Trying to help Kol with a problem
Jealousy/I’m sorry, I can’t hear you… (humor)
I keep telling them we’re not dating… (humor/cute)
The reader tries to avenge Kols death (angst)
New Years Kiss (cute/romantic)
- - - - -
Headcanons: Dating Finn Mikaelson
Hi, I discovered your blog an hour ago and I fell in love with it. Your writing is amazing! I love the idea of 'Reader Impact', it's very original and it would be an amazing series. Also, I can't stop thinking about either Aether or Lumine playing Genshin Impact (yes, I'm a simp for the twins) and simping for the reader through all the playthrough.
reader impact || first meeting: traveler edition
characters: aether, lumine
summary: a game has been released entitled genshin impact, consisting of otherworldly abilities relying on the basic elements of nature. the game follows the story of an interdimensional traveling twin in search of their other half. along this journey, they meet different characters that live in this world. including you.
notes: the twins are amazing and that’s that <3
aether's playthrough -
i like to think he's the softer one of the twins.
like, lumine is the one to beat someone up while aether wants to talk things out.
aether and lumine definitely stream together.
catch them playing little nightmares 2 together and lumine being the one to play most of the time.
fit checks at the beginning of the stream.
please he needs validation :((
anyway since genshin is primarily a single-player game, the twins can't really play together for the first part of the game.
they'd still play together, though!
they will start the game together and end the game together.
they're super excited to see that there are twins as the mc.
aether is not prepared for the start of the game.
please he jumps when he sees the main god appear.
now comes the fateful decision of which twin to choose.
aether picks you automatically because he just really likes you.
your scarf is so cute and your wings are so cute and--
he feels guilty when your twin is taken away :((
he really can't imagine the feeling where you lose your other half right in front of your very eyes.
he's rooting for you when you attack the god but he knows you won't beat her because there wouldn't be a game if you did.
"wait! don't go! give my (brother/sister) back! please!"
he will cry, don't test him.
he really likes your voice.
it's just really soothing for him to listen to.
when the game starts, he'll just jump around the beach for a few minutes.
"look! look at their scarf!"
he likes the physics of the clothes whenever your character moves.
he's just so giddy!!
lumine is teasing him but he doesn't care.
his chat really wants to know why he likes you so much.
and honestly? he just does.
you're cute and that's that.
he's sad he doesn't get to hear you talk that often though :((
he's like a little puppy please talk!
his chat doesn't like to see him sad so whenever they can, they tell him about the voicelines in your character profile.
honestly, they don't expect him to get that excited.
but he is and now he's obsessed.
he can and will make your voicelines a daily part of his life.
anyway, back to the actual storyline.
he gets scared by dvalin because he doesn't want you to get hurt.
"aren't they, like... professional adventurers?"
"yeah, but... i don't want them to get hurt."
LET HIM LOVE YOU
anytime there is a long silence during the stream, aether will cut in and just compliment you out of the blue.
like it's dead quiet except for the game.
you can hear aether's character (you) running through the grass.
"they're really cute."
aND HIS CHAT IS GOING WILD
anyway, he gets further into the game and him and lumine have top-tier characters.
even though he has a bunch of new four and five star characters...
hE JUST CAN'T LEAVE YOU BEHIND.
you will always be in his party, no questions asked.
and then he learns you can have different elements.
he doesn't care which one you have because you'll look cool with any one of them!
he soon gets used to your silence whenever something happens.
he appreciates the noises you make every so often when you're traveling because that's all he gets.
until the end of the liyue mission.
"name your price. you deserve that much."
"we still need to find our twin..."
you guys are in sync at this point istg--
"well... could you help me put up some missing person posters...?"
you've done it.
you've killed aether.
now his chat and lumine are laughing at him.
lumine's playthrough -
like i said before, lumine's the "tougher" of the twins.
it's not like she's a tomboy type, she just is more... confrontational.
she likes to stand up for herself.
we love a strong woman.
she and aether tend to do more story-based games because they like the banter that comes with it.
her viewers are... different compared to her brothers, but she doesn't let that stop her!
the chat's exactly what you'd expect from a strong female streamer... unfortunately.
once again, lumine and aether stream the game together but with different playthroughs.
while aether chooses your sibling, lumine chooses you!
she really likes your outfit, ngl.
you. are. adorable. any other opinion is invalid to lumine.
YOUR SIBLING LOOKS SO SAD STOP--
and they're gone.
she's actually yelling at you to defeat the god, but obviously, it doesn't work.
"stop! give my (brother/sister) back!"
as much as she loves to tease her brother, she'd feel devastated if she were in your position.
if you have flowers just like lumine, she will purposely get matching ones and wear them for genshin streams.
WHY ARE YOU SO CUTE
anyway, she loves your fighting style.
if it's graceful and calculated, she loves watching your scarf flow behind you while you fight hilichurls.
if it's reckless and wild, she'd admire you for being so tough :0
lumine still teases aether for being so smitten over his twin, but she'd be just as guilty.
they'd rant on and on after ending the game about how cute and cool you are.
surprisingly, she'd be the one to point out the slight difference in the twins.
once lumine and aether can play together in the same world, she'd have them stand side by side and attack just to explain the differences.
like how your twin uses the opposite hand in every attack.
or how your elemental skills are animated differently along with different voicelines.
also, she'd argue with aether about which twin is better.
her side of the stream would definitely start with some of your voicelines.
she wouldn't go as far as to use your lines for alarms in her daily life but she'd definitely use them for her stream.
she loves gliding around teyvat with you.
"look at how cute they are when they're flying!!"
you are her main dps, no questions asked.
her sub dps wouldn't get as much attention,,,
and once you unlock the other elements, she is prepared.
any character she has that matches your element, you get their artifacts.
she will buff you no matter what element you use.
just like aether, she wished you would talk more but she wouldn't be devastated.
her chat would tell her not to worry because you'll talk soon.
she's kind of annoyed they told her but she can't help but feel really excited for that special moment.
"name your price. you deserve that much."
"well... could you help me put up some missing person posters?"
"please tell me someone's already clipped that."
even if she wants you to talk more, she can't help but feel like these scenes are special when they pop up. <3