#let me know if you have questions. i thought this up when i ws like
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i saw someone recently say that they preferred sambucky over stevebucky (either platonic or romantic tbh) because they felt bucky was happier not living under the shadow of his former self? suggesting that he intentionally spent most of him time post winter soldier away from steve because he didn't want to be compared to a former version of himself that he couldn't return to? I'm a big lover of stevebucky so the idea that steve wouldn't be able to stop comparing (even if subconsciously) post-ws bucky to pre-ws bucky made me question the ship slightly? or that bucky was actually happier without steve in the readjustment process bc he could become his own person without preconceived ideas of what he should be like hanging over his head. I've read a few fics about this and i kinda wanted to know what u thought - would steve's knowledge of the old bucky affect their relationship so negatively that bucky would be happier alone/with people unfamiliar with who he was before (sorry for the rambling question)
Thank you lovely for the very interesting ask! I love these kind of hypotheticals!
First and foremost, don't ever let anyone convince you that you're only allowed to ship one pairing. A lot of people DO only ship one ship, and kudos to them, but you are not a bad fan if you want to ship Bucky with multiple people. Heck, I got into Stucky via Sambucky, and uh…anyway, here I am.
The idea that "Bucky stayed away from Steve because he didn't want to be compared to old Bucky" is one of my favourite angsty "loss of innocence" tropes to explore -- because yes, that's going to be one of Bucky's major insecurities after the Winter Soldier. He isn't the same person as before and no matter how hard he tries, he's never going to go back to who he was before.
The absolutely fascinating part, then, is how a fanfic writer decides to address this. So yeah, I can see this as the jumping board for a SamBucky story (or any other non Stucky ship).
But this is also a concept that not only fits in well within the Stucky fanon/narrative, it's also crucial to explore in order to bring the two of them back together. How does Steve accept that Bucky has changed, and how does Bucky come to trust that Steve accepts this changed version of him?
The answer is, for me, this is Steve we're talking about. Steve with all his tenacity and empathy and loyalty. This is Steve who's known Bucky since childhood, who probably knows Bucky better than the current Bucky remembers himself. This is also a Steve has fought one of the bloodiest wars in history. He is young, but he's not naive. The people of his time didn't have the right words for it - but he has seen a lot of mental health issues on the field. He's come out on the other end of the war still believing in the goodness of humans (his "I'm willing to bet I'm not" speech), so I have no doubt he will look at Bucky and see that -- yeah, you've changed, you've had terrible things happen to you for well over half a century, but you are also still the same kind soul that I grew up with, and that kindness is what's most important; I can still see him in you, even if you are different, and I believe you deserve all the love I can give you.
And you know what, there IS canon evidence that Steve believes in Bucky, believes in the goodness that couldn't be burned away with 70 years of brainwashing. Sam saying to Steve - (Bucky) isn't the kind you save and he won't know you - and Steve replying without an ounce of doubt in his voice, "He will." Or Steve going after Bucky to save him from the SIT because "he'd have done the same for me".
I think another crux is that recent gif set - the "I'm following the little guy from Brooklyn" speech. That was a vow - it was Bucky saying "I loved you (platonically/romantically/wte) when you were a poor disabled scruffy kid in the dumps, and I will love you just the same even if you're a buff blue-eyed Adonis." Their story, as always, encircles each other's - it is now Steve's turn to say "I loved you when you were a nerdy protective flirt and I will love you just the same even if you're disabled and scruffy and dealing with horrendous PTSD". I think that vow also highlights just how important Steve was, even at that point, to Bucky, which means…their loyalty will always draw them back to each other. Once Bucky sees Steve has faith in him, he will have faith in himself to rebuild his identity in a way that's true to him.
It really depends on the writer, but most versions I’ve seen in which Steve and Bucky separate (over this issue) write Steve as either obtuse, selfish or emotionally immature…which is not how I read him to be. I think he has the emotional maturity to accept that Bucky will have similarities but will also have stark differences to who he once was...but then, time leaves its mark on everyone it touches, not just Bucky (I kinda touched on that concept on my "Learning to Want" fic *self plug*). It's a rough road and on some days there's going to be more setbacks than progress, and yeah on some days Steve is going to get frustrated and upset and maybe even a little defeatist, but I think both he and Bucky have that tenacious survivor streak in them that will pull them through, especially if they're together.
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Tainted Opal (Part 8)
Kaz Brekker x fem!reader
Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7
T/Ws: violence, romantic feelings, blood, mild spice scenes sometimes, fem!reader and she/her pronouns, sexual abuse/trauma (not explicit)
Synopsis: You test your skills in an intense game of poker with the Crows. Kaz gets fed up off and you have to cool him off.
REQUESTS: OPEN✅
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8 - No Strip Poker
"This isn't just a game for fun, Jesper," Kaz grumbled as he separated the cards into seven piles. He kept the remaining cards in a stack by his hip. I guess he decided he was going to be the dealer, and no one interjected. "Everyone has a 'tell', you all know that. We're playing this to observe others' reactions and then call them out at the end of the game."
"So we're gonna point out each others' flaws in order to suppress them during a negotiation or a fight?" I asked, my voice dripping with mockery, the idea seemed smart, yet damaging. Kaz nodded to me, he seemed to want to glare at me, but you could say he suppressed it.
"So this is not strip poker?" Jesper asked with a whine. I laughed a bit as almost everyone objected. Nina seemed pretty on board with the idea though. With all the usual shenanigans out of the way, the game began.
Everyone picked up the deck dealed to them, inspecting their hand. I had a pair of sixes, but that most likely wasn't good enough to win. I knew if I lied during the game my lower lip would quiver, giving me away. I have to say nothing if asked, but I need to seem confident to fool.
"Give two cards, darling," I said to Kaz with a smirk. He passed them to me as I discarded my useless three of clubs and ten of hearts. I now held an additional six and a joker. Holy saints, four of a kind and an ace. That ranks me above a full house and under a straight flush. I suppressed my glee and stared down at my cards blankly. I was aware that everyone was darting glances around the room, attempting to spot an awkward movement of someone else.
Matthias huffed and threw his cards onto the table, "I fold," he said with a boiling rage. Nina gave him a soft kiss on the cheek before looking back at her hand. When Kaz nodded, everyone placed down their luck.
Inej had a three of a kind, of kings. Very good.
Jesper had nothing.... What could have been a royal flush was ruined by a single two of clubs.
Wylan had two of a kind, of threes.
Nina had two sets of two of a kinds.
Finally, my gaze fell off Kaz's hand. A straight flush.
I bottled up my frustration as Kaz reshuffled the cards and Jesper complained. I felt my competitive spirit shoot through my veins. Poker was a weekly event back on the ship, it was the only way my father respected me. Now, I felt the need to win every time. But I also wanted to win to beat Kaz Brekker.
I looked up at the pale boy with scarred lips, he ignored my stare- well, my glare. I finally spewed out words driven by a lust for winning, not testimonial thought,
"Let's make bets," I said, with a sweet undertone in my voice. It was like mixing honey into warm tea. Everyone turned to my direction as I broke the tense silence, I guess we all were competitive. "Information is much more valuable than any coin. Whoever wins each round gets to ask a question -that must be answered—, to anyone here." I spoke with enfaces on each word, a smirk dancing on my plush lips. Jesper and Wylan smiled, and Nina let out an approving giggle. Kaz nodded, but did not show a sliver of opinion.
"Well, let's see how confident you are, Y/n," Kaz rasped, but there was a hint of amusement in his gravely voice. I looked at my hand, just a two of a kind, but it was of Queens. I asked for three cards, and others needs followed in suit. My hand now consisted on two queens and two kings. My bite was going to be underwhelming compared to my bark...
Everyone revealed their hand, darting gazes past the other cards laid out in. Nina won with a royal flush, which caused my body to soften on the inside, at least Kaz did not win after the spectacle I made. My competitive nature often got in the way of my judgement. Nina made a humming sound as she leaned against Matthias before looking directly at Inej.
"What's the weirdest thing you've observed while spying..?" She inquired with deep curiosity igniting in her eyes. Inej laughed softly before thinking for a moment.
"One time I saw a woman singing opera to... maybe 12 chickens sitting on her
couch-," the Waith could barely keep a straight face as she spoke, smirking at just the thought of the sight.
"I would pay to see that, the women could get rich of Kruge," I remarked with a giggle. Inej smiled at me with glittering eyes, and the game resumed.
A few rounds past before I won, but no alarming questions had been asked yet. Everyone seemed to just be dipping their toes in the shallow end of a deep pool of secrets. As I looked at my new hand of cards, I had a perfect full house, but everyone would know my deck was perfect if I didn't draw cards for the first time. I have to risk it. My anxiety spiked slightly, but I had to keep my heart rate steady, Nina would know if it sped up. I asked for one card, and luckily it was a joker. I could replace the card I had just discarded.
"I gotta' fold," Jesper whined, his gambling addiction seemed to be having a low this round. The remaining players placed their cards on the table. Everyone's eyes were glued on my hand; my perfect hand; the winning hand. Kaz didn't show signs of frustration, but I knew he was. He was so close to winning, just like I had been the very first round. My competitive advantage bubbled in my throat, my ego boiling over. I smirked and turned to Kaz,
"Why do you were gloves all the time?" I asked with curiosity lined with amusement. Everyone in the room seemed to tense up, we all most likely knew very little, but we had heard the rumors.
Brekker's hands are stained with blood that can't be washed off.
Dirtyhands has sharp fingers like the devil.
Kaz's hands are scarred beyond belief, the fate of his work.
Kaz clutched his cane tightly and stood up, his tall form towering over my hunched body.
"Choose one of the theories of Ketterdam's voices. They're all true enough," he responded. And with that, he began walking outside, opening the cabin's door. He stopped at the doorway, his strong posture framed by the blistering white outside. "I've learned enough from this game, you all need to improve your sloppy skills, especially Y/n. The quivering of your pretty lips will get your teeth knocked out."
As the door slammed shut, we all sat in silence. The tension from the game lingered as the quiet in the room festered. I couldn't help but feel embarrassed, Kaz was cold and bitter, but he was important. I had to value his feelings, or at the very least, his reactions. My cheeks grew red, but I sighed and attempted to keep face. When in doubt, become seductive; desire trumps all.
"Soooo, now that the party pooper is gone, maybe be could play strip poker-,"
"Please play without me, dolls, I'm going to reason with... the party pooper in question," my voice was a soft purr, one that drew in the most modest of people. I lifted myself with grace, sauntering out the door into the cold, but not before slipping on Kaz's jacket.
✵ ♣ ✵
The bitter boy had not made it far in the short time, he was just a hundred or so paces ahead of me, limping his way into the cold. I wasn't sure why, but I assumed it was to clear his troubled mind.
I finally made my way to his side, and without acknowledging me, he continued his brooding trek.
"Did you just come out here to suffer for fun or did you want to escape my question?" I made my tone extra clear, my honeydew voices melting the cold feelings. Kaz said nothing for a while, his jaw clenching slightly.
He halted and cocked an eyebrow. His head turned and his high stature caused him to crane his neck in order to make eye contact with me.
"We cannot escape our pasts, Y/n, all we can do is carefully cultivate a collection of present actions to allow the world to assume our upbringings," he voice sounded choked, strained, but he still held himself with pride. I noticed how he said 'we', including himself in the population of whom made the decision he described.
I sighed softly and narrowed my eyes, peering through my eyelashes at the Kaz. I didn't apologize for my question, I didn't need to, but I gave Kaz a looking of understanding.
"These personas we create may be true enough, Kaz, but they're simply an escape from the hell we're stuck in." I stepped closer to him, my stare hardening. "You have your tells too, Kaz Brekker, you may have a perfect front you present to the world, I'm guilty of it as well, but you're still just a scared kid."
Kaz stiffened as I inched closer to his face, taunting him. I stood on the tips of my toes, our noses nearly touching. I didn't have to use my Grisha abilities to sense his heartbeat quickening.
"We met before, didn't we?"
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Word Count: 1606
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I wasn't a fan of this chapter, but it was pretty rushed. Sorry for the awkward start to this.
-Valentine
#fanfic#inej ghafa#jesper fahey#kaz brekker#kaz brekker x reader#kaz brekker x y/n#kaz brekker x you#nina zenik#shadow and bone#six of crows#soc#soc inej#soc kaz#poker#strip poker#wylan van eck#fem!reader#fem reader#matthias helvar#books#seductress
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I’ve been curious about the paragraph in chapter 47 about Donnie’s past partners and the description of them being transactional. I guess I’m wondering what he meant by that? What were the other parties involved getting from the experience? What kinds of people were they? What was he looking for? And in what period of his life? Sorry to bombard you with questions btw 人(_ _*) I tend to take things very literal when reading, my initial interpretation was that these past partners were sex workers. That doesn’t sound right though..
Happy new year!!!
Not at all; not bombarding at all! Please, always send any and all questions! I can totally see how it's confusing so let me share the ongoing history!
I know Weak Spot Donnie's sexual history has been a sort of ongoing question that I originally dodged like dodgeballs because, in all honesty, it wasn't something I bothered to plan from the beginning like I planned everything else. Since reader's sexual history was going to be ambiguous (so they can be insertable ((lol))), I thought of leaving Donnie's that way too since we aren't defined by what partners we've had.
That being said, I did eventually give in and decide something only because I was given the right idea! Shout out to @purplish-hue for saying he would fuck for gain and @hijinxensues for playing mad ball trying to piece it together while I was frolicking in the flowers. Using the word transactional totally came from @some-guy-named-dominyk who casually said the banger:
picks up WS Donnie wow you are troumatised and see everything and everyone (including yourself) as transactional pieces because you we brought up in a world that was cruel and unforgiving whne you were a child, but now that you are an adult and you are in the presence of relative safety, you are more afraid of the safety rather than the pain
All of this is to say the following below the cut is what I decided!
Also someday I'm going to take all the drabbles and what not that I've canon stamped for Weak Spot and make a proper post for them!
Donnie's first time is related to a change in his line of production. So like I'm imagining old dude runs a mine for mystic crystals and he has a heart attack and the daughter (maybe a mujina?) steps into the role. Donnie has an ongoing deal with the old man, but the daughter is spoiled rotten ruthless and halts the flow. She won't be moved and she's got too much defense to take out, plus Don needs the crystals and doesn't wanna cut ties with the old man's business because it's such a pain and who wants to get into mining ops. Donnie looks into how he can manipulate her because she supposedly doesn't want anything. She obviously wants to put him in his place, but based on his upbringing (and that being out of the question) there is no one in this world that does not want. He finds out she's basically a pillow princess who loves sex. He does he research, the whole nine yards, he practices with the stroker to make sure he can last, he's EXTRA and then he confronts her and fucks the shit out of her. He doesn't let her cum and makes her agree to continue production before he lets her. She tries to get him back after that, but he refuses and now he's the one dangling the carrot. From that point on, he basically only used sex in that way, aka a means to an end. This would have taken place in his 20s when he needed materials but going back to the Hidden City was especially difficult for him.
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PECULIAR QUESTION
Have you ever read any soulmate fics that have their deepest, darkest thoughts about themselves written on their soulmate's body? And when they finally begin to think differently the writing turns gold?
What do you think Cale's soulmate would have?(I know my boi is traumatized as f u c k-)
Maybe you could make it found family somehow where the thoughts are split up between people and they haven't figured out which set of writing belongs to Cale-
but I really want to know what everyone else would think- like, there would probably be some horrifying crap there.
(would a majority of the writing on Cale be golden already-? [Like obviously not ALL of it but still-])
Sorry, I rambled a bit there 😅
I'VE BEEN THINKING ABOUT THIS SO HARD !!! I DIDN'T FORGET THIS!!
my brain is kinda fried after finishing my finals, but!! I feel like Cale's would end up being smth kinda vague like "it should have been me." Orrrr smth about not deserving everything ??
Like yes... It's p straight forward, but imagine how they'd feel after learning about his past?? IF he opens up??
But also... Imagine the soulmate thing kinda doubles as healing..? If that makes sense? Just think about it... If one person believes something about themselves, but their soulmate is the only person who is able to help them heal themselves??
Nono!!! Keep going !!! I honestly haven't thought too much about the word soulmate aus 🤔 I had a moment where I was obsessed w like found family, and each person unlocking a colour for him (each person bringing a new colour into his world) or red string of fate (I had smth abt ws X Cale but tragedy??)
So ... I am , THIBKING SO HARD!!!
just ?? Imagine the kids?? Them having something seemingly simple like "I'm too weak" or smth about being "unwanted freaks" and then comes Cale...
Who gives them as much love as they need, patiently listening to them and letting them be kids.. ugh!!! Just?? They feel so safe with him and he helps quiet these negative thoughts so easily?
To others it might be obvious, but to them these "small" problems are massive boulders in their way... And the way Cale reassures them... It's so natural. No hesitation. Ugh I love them .
Just imagine if they appear w a searing pain? Or maybe for Cale, it feels the same as papercuts... Imagine the guilt he feels when his thoughts show up on the people he cares about... And it's just a cycle of self loathing.. where he thinks they would have been better off without him and then it shows up-
Uughgh... Just picturing him hating himself for the pain he brought to the kids because of his thoughts ...
NGL I read this wrong the first time BC I am, usually sleep deprived but like I thought it was like a lie. Like imagine someone having "living is best" show up on them but it's because Cale repeated it so much it became like a curse? He lived by those words because if he didn't then he wouldn't be able to keep going maybe?
Idk if I'm making sense anymore fjdkkfdkg
"I should have died" seems .. very likely for my brain
But if it's smth where it turns gold when they stop believing it... Imagine them all telling him he was meant to live and he just smiles and nods .. and it stays??
-
As for recommendations 🤔🤔 there was this one fic that was ogchch, soul mark au, forced cohabitation and I LOVE IT SO MUCH!!! I think I'm gonna go back and read it again
Come back anon 🥺🥺🥺 open Ur brain up n feed me Ur thoughts 🙏💖 I hope you enjoy this a bit 👉👈
#tcf#lcf#lout of the count’s family#trash of the count's family#thank you so mucj for the ask fjdkdkslf it made me so excited to see the notif for this !!!!!
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hi darling! what about…
8 and ws!steve (because that man seriously needs a chill pill i still love him though)
💗💗
thank you bb! uhhhhh idk if this is what you had in mind but I sure as hell enjoyed writing it lol ♡
the t in tw stands for tiddies.
Send me a number and I’ll write a micro story using the word or phrase
8 - Sunbathing
When a tip about Bucky's whereabouts landed in Sam and Steve's proverbial laps they didn't think twice about making use of what little resources they had to cross the Atlantic and head for the south of France. Steve didn't know why Bucky would be there, or even how, but their trail had gone cold for so long he was getting desperate. Sam was pushing him to take this opportunity to unwind a bit. He knew Steve was strung out, and for good reason. But all this stress was killing his seemingly indestructible friend.
"The last time I was in Southern France Nazi's were dropping bombs on our heads."
Sam winced but pushed on.
"Steve it's not 1943 anymore, you gotta relax. We don't even know if this tip is solid yet and we've got two days before our informant can reach us again with more information." Sam claps his buddy on the back and points out towards the ocean and over the sea of swimsuit clad tourists. "Look at what you're missing out on, old man. Y'know if Natasha were here she'd be pushing you to go."
"Miss Bye-Bye Bikini's?"
Steve reluctantly grins at Sam's boisterous laughter and let's his friend tug him toward the water.
Before long Steve's out in the water, splashing Sam and diving under waves. He feels like a kid again, playing at the beach with Bucky. A twinge of guilt settles in his stomach at the thought, strong enough to push him from the waves and onto shore. Sam hasn't noticed, he's off schmoozing some coeds further down the beach by now.
Steve's lost in thought, images of Bucky and the helicarrier and fire and water fill his head and in his haze he trips over something.
Someone, he belatedly realizes when he rights himself on the sand.
"Watch where you're going!"
"Miss, oh god, I'm so sorry. Are you alright?"
Steve looks up from the ankle he tripped over that he was inspecting for injuries and nearly faints at the sight of you. He gasps and turns a shocking beet red as he quickly covers his eyes.
"Miss you're, you-uh...your bathing suit fell off!"
"My what?"
You look from the shy, beautiful man down to your breasts which have been exposed for quite some time before this big oaf fell on you.
"It's a topless beach. They're just tits calm down."
He's floundering like a fish and unable to look at you. Under the glasses and sunblock he looks awfully familiar but you can't quite put your finger on it.
"A topless beach, huh?" The man croaks as he realizes he is surrounded on all sides by women sunbathing their bare chests.
You grab the poor man's pale face and force him to look you in the eye.
"Sweetheart, are you ok?"
Steve nods, suddenly mesmerized by your eyes shining in laughter at his weak constitution. He thought he was getting pretty acclimated to the future, but it sure knew how to throw a good curveball at him.
"I'm, ahem, I'm fine. Thank you. I'm sorry again for tripping over you."
"It's fine, I'm okay. Busy beach."
You introduce yourself and Steve does the same, trying to remember how to be courteous like his ma taught him. You were so stunning it almost didn't register that you had asked him a question.
"I'm sorry, what?"
"I said, I'm here on holiday with my friends. What about you?"
You were still holding his face. Probably could've let go by now but he seemed so relaxed by your touch you didn't have the heart to move.
"Business, mostly. Meeting a...business partner. Haven't spoken to him in, well, in a long time."
"Business, huh? No time for pleasure on your little trip?"
Steve gulped. That look in your eyes. Did you... are you flirting with him? Steve should be used to it by now, it's been a long time since the serum first shot through his veins, but he wasn't. Not by a long shot.
"Steve?"
"Hmm?"
"Do you wanna go get a drink with me? I can put my top back on if you'd like?"
"You don't have to-...I mean, sure."
He laughs and bites his bottom lip, holding back from making more of an idiot of himself.
"How 'bout I put it on now and later you can take it back off for me? Sound good?"
"Mhm."
You pat Steve's cheek and finally let him go so you can redress. He looks away as you do and you're giddy at the thought of him really getting an eyeful of you later.
Your friends are gonna flip when they hear you bagged Captain America with your tits out.
#steve rogers fic#steve rogers x you#steve rogers x reader#steve rogers x y/n#chris evans fic#ws!steve#ws!steve rogers#my fics
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For the 100fo celebration
So I watch moonlight finfic, and the angst give me some ideas.
What if,when Shuri helped Bucky out of the cycro, they found there's others live in Bucky's body.
They didn't expect to Bucky－－the 40s!Bucky is back, and winter soldier still in his mind.
Now, all of three lived in one body
The silence tender giant, a.k.a ex-assassin Winter Soldier, Bucky gives him a name with Jacob Boris Barnes
The grumpy white wolf James Bucky Barnes
And the flirty ladies' man 40s!James
They fall in love with the same woman,you.
and with three prompts, you can match each them or doing anything
“you look great in my clothes.”
“Let's go home.” “I'm already home.”
“You're my new pillow.”
If you want more specific setting,
I think in this situation, Bucky didn't have nightmares because WS remember the memories. And they still have the list to apologizes and……you know👀👀
Another question, what attitude will reader treat them three？ Is she treats them all the same?
Anyway, I hope this won't be too bothered.
Love you💖💖
So I finally managed to write this! I'm sorry it took me so long, exams came in the way of writing this, and I had a hard time coming up with something that made sense to me and that I liked.
Disclaimer: I haven't watched Moonknight myself and I'm also not well versed in the psychology and science behind multiple personalities. This might be a highly inaccurate depiction of how it is to have multiple personalities. I don't intend to upset or offend anyone with his. This is my - entirely fictional - view on this ask and particular scenario.
The Divider is by the wonderful @/firefly-graphics
This is not beta-read btw
At first, she thought they were all different people. Three strangers with no connection at all. Sure they looked similar to her, there was a certain familiarity with the second and then the third meeting. But she had never been able to pinpoint the feeling, chalking the sensation up to be a weird deja-vu and nothing more.
Then she thought they maybe were related. Brothers, she concluded, shoving down the feeling that something still didn’t fit. It was weird they never mentioned each other, weird that they didn’t talk to her about the situation, and weird she never saw more than one of them.
She’d met Jacob - or Winter as she started to call him in her mind - first. It had been a cold December morning in New York. The sky was a grim, cloudy gray and the wind was harshly tugging at her thick coat and the scarf she had tightly wrapped around her. Most people were wise enough to stay put in their apartments in this weather, not her. She had decided to go out and venture into Grand Central Park. There was something mystic about the emptiness, of the solitude. She was alone with nature. At least until she spotted the lonely figure perched on one of the park benches, almost entirely hidden away by the large Cedars.
He had looked catatonic, unmoving. She had wondered what he did here and after a few moments, she had grown concerned. Slowly walking up to him he still hadn’t moved. He had looked at her out of the corner of his eyes, nothing more. She had asked if he was alright but he hadn’t answered. At last, she had sat down beside him on the park bench, looking out over Cedar Hill. There they had sat for quite some time, in full silence. When her hands - even with her gloves - had started to turn numb and stiff she had stood up. “I’m going to get a hot chocolate, would you like one as well?” She had seen a little stand selling the sweet, warm treat just a little away. He hadn’t reacted again, so she huffed and turned to go. Not before she tugged at the wooly red scarf around her throat. His eyes widened when she wrapped it around him, noticing how could his coat felt. She smiled at him, even if he didn’t reciprocate the gesture. With a small wave, she had said her goodbyes and gone.
The next morning, on her walk, she had seen him again. Her heart had fluttered seeing the red wrapped around his frame and upon coming closer the two steaming cups sitting beside him on the bench.
Bucky had been next. She had run into him on her way to track down a packet for her boss. The mailman that delivered to her work was notorious for losing packets or misplacing them. It had been no surprise to her when one of the packets - a very important one - had been found on the other side of town. The tracking number had failed but the man who had gotten the package falsely had been nice enough to call. So with an address hastily written on a post-it, she had gone to track the place down. Said place had turned out to be an apartment complex. One with a closed-off door only tenants could open with their keys. Conveniently their package hero had forgotten to mention in which apartment he lived. Ringing every single bell down the long line of buttons it had been. Most hadn’t answered, some had sworn at her, and one had finally just buzzed her in. She had run into him on the stairs. Full on, colliding against his chest and nearly tumbling down the stairs she had just tediously climbed up. His reflexes had been faster and he had caught her, saved her from certain doom and at least a fractured rib and major concussion. They were staring at each other, clearly startled, until she noticed the package under his arm. Her package.
In the end, she had left not only with the package but also with his number scribbled directly under his address on the post-it.
James was the last one she met. It was at a small club her friends had dragged her to. A themed one, as her friends had a certain obsessing with past centuries. That’s how she found herself in a bar, looking like she had stepped back into the 40s and feeling entirely out of place. Her clothes were too modern and she was too unfamiliar with the music and the slang of the times long gone. Even with the menu, she had a hard time.
“You need help, Doll?” one voice had asked from beside her. When she had looked over at the man she had gasped quietly. Nearly thinking it was a joke. With Winter and Bucky, she had chalked it up to coincidence, her mind wanting to connect the two men she started to like. But three times the charm? She hadn’t believed her eyes. But it was true. The longer James and she had talked - and danced - the more she had realized the differences between him and the other two. Their personalities were stark contrasts, even if their looks were equally handsome and haughty.
At some point between meeting with all three men, she had realized it. Things had started to match up. Stories, names they mentioned, little details. And of course the apartment. It had truly sunk in the morning she had woken up in their bed, after another date with James. As she woke up the red fabric of her scarf laughed at her, draped over a chair on the other side of the room.
She hadn’t said anything to them at first. She hadn’t really known how to address it, what it was. The longer she pondered about it, the more she realized. Maybe also because she had gotten a rather effective nudge in the right direction by one of his friends. Sam had shown up at her work one day. Over lunch at the corner bistro opposite her work he had told her about it. Some of it at least. He had emphasized only they could tell her the whole story. But he had filled in the gaps for her, connecting the dots enough to realize she in fact had been meeting the same man, she had just independently met up with his three personalities.
It had surprised her a little to have never seen him switch. Sam had told her it could happen quite a lot. A lot of things triggered his mind, forcing him to shut down for a moment and switch personalities. Somehow it had never happened around her.
They didn’t contact her for a while after she found out. She thought they were scared of rejection. It hurt her a lot, but she could also understand why they were so careful. Nevertheless, she ended up in front of the apartment, knocking at the door until it opened. It was Bucky that opened the door. Apprehensive he looked at her, eyeing her and waiting for her to dump him, dump them. She didn’t. She just smiled at him and held up the take-out from his favorite Asian restaurant.
“Won’t you let me in?”, she asked and he complied after a moment. They sat in silence, eating their dinner.
“Doesn't it bother you?”, Bucky asked after a while, putting down his food and looking at her.
“Why would it?”, she asked back.
He had no answer to that.
“I’m okay with it. 100% and I’m in if you - all three of you - are too.”
That seemed to make him relax. He exhaled and leaned back, his head falling back until he was staring at the ceiling.
“Yeah,” was his whispered answer. It was faint but she heard it.
Putting down her food, she crawled over to him where he sat on the floor before the perfectly fine couch he refused to sit on. Confused he looked at her but followed as she pulled him back until she was laying on the couch and he was on her. She encouraged him to lean her head on her chest while she softly combed through the short hair.
“You're my new pillow,” she heard him mumble after a while. It made her laugh before she nodded.
They layed there for a while longer until she started to feel his lips leaving a trail of kisses.
The next morning she woke up in his arms, clad in nothing but the shirt he had worn the day before. His nose softly caressed her neck, and the plates of his metal arm softly hummed and shifted as he traced patterns over her arm.
“You look great in my clothes.”
“I like to wear them too,” she told him, looking but and seeing Winter in his eyes. She smiled softly.
It happened then. That he shifted before her for the first time. He had done it in her presence in the night, but they had both been asleep then. She had fallen asleep in Bucky’s arms and awoken in Winter’s. Now as his eyes went glassy and his vision unfocused she watched Winter retreat and James come up.
His whole body shuddered, his brows turning down as a frown crept up his face.
“Where am I?”, he looked disoriented for a moment. Sam had told her that too, that it could happen sometime. Especially when he switched to James. The one who had never woken up from the war, from the fall into the dark pits of the ravine.
“James,” she softly called out to him, her hands on his cheeks as he looked around the room, clearly confused. His brows could hardly dip further down but he managed to surprise her with how deep they seemed to fall.
“Come back to me,” she softly cooed, trying to coax him back to the here and there. To the moment and the time. She tried to guide him to this world.
“Let’s go home,” she softly mumbled, hoping he would find himself back. He relaxed, eyes closed as his forehead touched hers.
“I’m already home,” he told her and she knew he was back by her, back in this place and this time.
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uh yeah so I wasn't planning on watching the episode until the weekend but my sister woke up super early and started like dancing or swinging from the ceiling fan or something and it woke me up so now I will bring back the guac episode text blocks :')
Hsmtmts: Season 3: Episode 1 Reaction
"And love is an open door. Did I just make that up? It's pretty good."
First new line of the show and I'm smiling like an idiot. So turns out I'm not actually over this show🥸
DAD JOKES ARE LIFE. I will be taking notes as EJ continues to speak.
big red's got work? all the time? why? can't he take two weeks off to enjoy the summer with friends? he's like 16? huh??
and Sebbie's gotta milk so this is how we explain their absence 🧍🏽♀️
oh so Ricky is with Lily after all? icky licky.
Carlos switching his glasses for sunglasses made me laugh a bit too much. maybe I should pull my sister down from the ceiling and go back to sleep...
wait wait wait
I'm not American and I haven't paid much attention to the details yet but like, Utah and California are close, but close enough that these kids' parents let them drive by themselves across states? ISNT CARLOS LIKE CANONICALLY 16? is this normal? I'm sorry
EJ being the son of Cash Caswell 4 and a half minutes into the season. why do rich people need more than 1 home? also yes Gina. she knew about the 2nd home so I'm assuming she's at least seen it (unless EJ just casually mentions his other houses but to me he seems like the kinda guy to forget he has more houses than the average person and just never talk about it) so yeah slay girlie pop marry rich! life is about the material things! go queen!
"you come to camp shallow lake and you leave and someone else" oh no. foreshadowing.
yeah I miss seb too.
the whole phone confiscation thing is awful to me. not because I'm addicted or anything, just that, that's my property and they're storing it in a bucket with other people's nasty phones in a dark room somewhere and idk what's happening to it? no thanks I'll leave it home.
oh I completely forgot the intro song thing *insert harsh whistle*
RICHIE EWE WEQEQ WS
this is funny though. don't mind my disgusted expression as I watch this scene, I'm rather enjoying seeing Ricky turn into a text to speech reader.
the more Lily talks the more I fear for Ricky's life.
Caribbean cruise? uhhh I live in the Caribbean 😥😥😥 imagine just chilling and you see miss Jenn running around buying souvenirs.
also. MR BOWEN? GIRL BENJAMIN MAZZARA IS RIGHT THERE. HE CONFESSED TO YOU AT THE END OF LAST SEASON. THIS WOMAN-
so it's confirmed that this is the same camp that Nini and EJ met at😃
I love Ashlyn. no context needed.
Why is she still with Howie again?
the non-wildcats in the corner. Are they credited as non-wildcats on IMDb?
as Ms Jenn is talking about sparks, remember when she and Mr Mazzara started a fire at the school and just...ran away? why don't we talk about this?
I wrote an alternate 2x12 fanfic where Ricky knows about the harness already so I genuinely thought they all knew already... anyways, yay Tim for bringing back this plotpoint!
Carlos being horrified by these random dudes throwing things is exactly what I expected from this season. that and Ricky coming to his senses but we can't always get what we want.
Jet is hot but we knew this already. anyways gimme the enemies to lovers with Ricky please, with a bunch of angst with happy ending, all that jazz. gimme the flavour🤌🏽🤌🏽
the way lily's body language is... reminds me of an episode of 911 where this girl murdered her boyfriend on valentine's day because he wanted to leave the date... she literally looked so much like how Lily looks rn... RUN RICHARD
isn't she like 14? like canon... I have a lot of questions for her parents mainly.
so he really just has big red's car this whole time? he's having his mv moment so I'll overlook it. we all need our main character moment at some point. but actually. it's a literal music video in the middle of the episode.
wait have we seen Kourtney and Carlos interactions yet? please someone tell me if we have or have not because this is my favourite. also let's discuss Kourtney's rainbow belt 😁
what kind of life changing 2 week camp is this? why are they all acting like all new people will be brainwashed and their lives will flip upside down by the time it's over
emo boy Jet meets emo boy Ricky they un-emotify together or something idk
"if you fall in no one will hear your screams" "don't go too far into the woods or you'll be gone for good" still not convinced this isn't a murder mystery season.
...
you telling me
Disney plus exists
in the universe of a show
on Disney plus
...
anyways so is this how EJ becomes director-
damn so he's really second choice for this too👩🏽🦯
RICKy? how does this even happen? don't they have to pay for this camp? how did he get so far in and portwell are the first people he sees? I'm so confused 😭
#guac's episode text blocks :)#hsmtmts s3#hsmtmts season 3#hsmtmts#ej caswell#ricky bowen#gina porter#carlos rodriguez#kourtney greene#ashlyn caswell
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On Turning 43 | A Birthday Reflection
By David Himmel
One of, if not the last conversation I had with my paternal grandmother before she died was about the cold war between the head and the heart. Or, rather, the mind and the body.
“In my mind, I’m twenty-nine,” she told me over the phone. “But my body doesn’t agree. It feels much older.” Nonny died three weeks before her ninety-fifth birthday.
That’s aging, innit? At the time of this typing, I am rounding the final bend of completing my forty-third year of life. When the clock strikes midnight, I will be forty-three years old. That feels like an odd age to be. And I imagine every subsequent year will feel just as uncomfortable. How am I forty-three? I think about my dad at forty-three, friends, teachers, bosses I knew when they were forty-three and there’s no way I’m as old as they are. Physically, yes. I understand how time works. But mentally, I feel the same kind of desires, panics, fears, hopes, concerns, etc. as I did when I was twenty-five. Sure, there’s been some amendments, like, now I worry about the actual kid I have rather than worrying about the theoretical kid I might one day have.
That comment about her mind and body not aligning was the most pessimistic thing I ever heard Nonny say. And we were close. So, perhaps I’m better off for having met this realization at a younger age. Or, perhaps that’s how Nonny lived so long—she never crossed the line of contradiction until her mid-nineties. Or, she avoided the darkened weight that comes with it, which I have not.
I also type this out on May 25, the day after the Robb Elementary school shooting, so I can’t help but feel a little pessimistic, furious, sad, and scared. But! If I am to take pages out of Nonny’s book, then I must quote her further: “I must make what happens to me good for me.” So, let’s not focus on our decaying bodies and aching brains, not on the grotesque demise of our miserable American Exceptionalism. No, let’s look back at what I’ve learned in my forty-third year. Let’s see how I’ve grown and made what happened to me good for me. And let’s see if maybe, you learned something, too, and made things good for you as well.
It’s decided, I know who I’ll have dinner with
Dinner with three people? Lizzo. Hunter Thompson. Michael Zigler. Lee Harvey Oswald. Why? Lizzo is keeping good disco alive. Lizzo is funny. She seems like a good time.
Thompson? C’mon… Obviously.
Alek Hidell? I mean Lee Harvey Oswald? I just have so many questions.
My heart breaks and melts with the losses and wins of the people I care about more than my own
I’ve had a good number of friends go through some pretty surprising and/or rough breakups this year. Also had some friends experience some fantastic wins of the heart. The successes lifted me up into a euphoric cloud, the losses put me south of whatever Dante thought he knew. I can rattle off my loved one’s moments but I’d need a minute to recant my Ls and Ws. It’s easier for me to be empathetic and sympathetic to others than it is to myself. I am George Bailey. It is a quality that is equal parts wonderful and pathetically stupid.
10 years later, Call Me Maybe is still a brilliant song
Don’t be surprised. We all knew this was going to happen when we first heard the song in 2012.
I love Chicago for its filth
I love the degenerates, the drunkards, the ones with broken cars in their garages and beer cans littering their backyard patios. That, to me, is a sign of someone fighting that Chicago Fight—working hard against the winter and the Man and gentrification. Those beat down by political machinery that leverages our safety, our kids’ education, our health, and how criminal the cops can be against us—those are the real Chicagoans reping the real Chicago. The glitz, the city pride resembling that of a Big 10 football game found in the Northeast neighborhoods, that ain’t Chicago. Not really. That’s performative self-indulgence. You can find the real Chicago if you go west. Just like the best of our kind always has.
Don Hall is a pit bull with a bone—or a toddler
Between his nephew dying, his divorce, his adventures in employment, Don Hall is truly a survivor on the same level as a Twinkie and a cockroach. Pardon the mixed metaphors… The guy doesn’t quit or slow down for too long. Just enough to adjust his bite on the leg of the toddler that is his life.
The road to calm for me is paved by vacuum tracks
The state of my domicile is directly reflective of my mental health, physical confidence, and general wellbeing. When I was a kid lying in bed at night, I’d bring myself to sleep by closing my eyes and pushing the clutter of my mind front and center into a large white void that existed just inside of my eyelids. Then bit by bit, I would weed through the clutter of the day, of the stress, of the joy, of the hope and concern. And bit by bit, the pile of stuff would clear out until I was left with a spotless white void. At that point, with the clutter cleared away, compartmentalized or deleted entirely, I could calmly drift to sleep. Ahh…
I’m not sure why I stopped this exercise. But I have a theory it’s connected to the ability to drink myself to sleep or fade out with an iPad propped up on my chest. I’m distracted, which is the whole point of younger me’s exercise.
Cleaning things out, bringing sensible, functional order to your spaces brings peace. Cleaning is immediate gratification, which does wonders for one’s confidence. Where there was once a pile of Amazon boxes, now there is a hardwood floor you can vacuum and mop to a brilliant shine. Maintaining basic cleanliness and order doesn’t mean everything has to be perfect and spotless at all times, but it does mean you’re maintaining control of your environment. And routine maintenance/cleaning means the job is easier to do each time around.
An uncluttered home inspires an uncluttered mind. This is a task I’ve struggled with since moving into our new home. With the place in flux as we settled in and made updates, then the two dogs filling it with hair and toys and kibble spills, and the preschooler and wife and myself merely living, the house has become, well, not an ideal place for a person like me. I’d clean it, but what’s the point? The moment I place clean and ironed linens on the bed, the dogs are there to dust it in dander. Cleaning my home has come to feel like I am more like Homer’s Sisyphus than I am the me I’ve always been and want to be. So, I have to figure out a way not to finally get that boulder up the hill but blow the boulder up and raze the hill. Then happily vacuum up all that debris. Ahh…
Logging out of social media has freed me from mindless time-wasting and unnecessary annoyance
But that freedom has imprisoned me to a world where the common unwashed don’t know what I’m up to, which can work against me whenever I get that next damn book published. I want to be wealthy enough that I can hire an intelligent person to operate my social media. But there will be no need for that concern until I get those damn books out. The good news is that without social media to burn time on, I can use those found minutes to write and publish, right?
I’ve finally hit the point where I understand what parents mean when they say they’re exhausted and that parenting is hard
It’s not the physical act of raising a child, it’s the emotional and psychological might required to be a good example, a patient parent and spouse, and generally, not a disconnected zombie of resentment. It’s hard. Challenge accepted under duress despite my very conscious choice to enter this terrible agreement with Domestication.
Yep! Go fuck yourself, Zionists
One thing I learned and wrote about in last year’s birthday post was this: “I’ve become almost perfectly comfortable with my discomfort with my American Judaism. Too much to unpack right here right now. But I’m confident by age forty-three, I’ll have no problem telling American Zionists to fuck themselves in the face with an Uzi with the same passion I’d tell a Trump-supporting, Capitol-storming racist to fuck themselves with their stupid Confederate flags.”
Safe to say, that, yeah, now I’m forty-three and am perfectly fine to tell American Zionists to fuck themselves in the face with an Uzi. Especially if that American Zionist is “class act” Rudy Giuliani. Or my old rabbi.
I can do this shit
Trouble gives us the capacity to handle it. Self-doubt and cross looks from spouses and strangers is mere fuel to a four-plus decade fire burning in me. Fuck off, move, I got shit to do and I’m gonna do it. I’ll try to be nice about it—and mostly, I will be—but if you get in my way too much for too long, I’m going to have to push you aside. The clock is ticking, time is running out. I can do this shit and I’m gonna do it the best way I know how—a slightly adjusted manner in which I’ve been doing it all the while.
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medicine - a close reading
x
HUGE disclaimer for anyone about to read this: i got down to business. no words were embellished, no thoughts were held back. i'm talking about sex. so, if you're too young/not comfortable with unfiltered sex talk, especially relating to your fave, skip this one!
and if you're uncomfortable with the idea of harry "messing around" with more ppl than our trusted "you", then you can also let this one pass you by bc yes we're entertaining those thoughts here <3
LYRIC ANALYSIS
Here to take my medicine
Treat you like a gentleman
right off the bat: deliciously ambiguous
like you're a gentleman
like i'm a gentleman
Give me that adrenalin
Think I'm gonna stick with you
only just met? and already addicted? "you" is the focus of "i"s desires
Here to take my medicine
Rest it on your fingertips
Up to your mouth, feeling it out
this visual was unclear to me until @bluewinnerangel clarified it for me so thank you for your service once again, demy <3
routine of taking actual medicine: take the pill between your fingers and pop it in your mouth
it is loaded with innuendo, of course, bc it's fucking harry, esp with "feeling it out" revealing the true nature of the medicine and how both mouth and fingers are doing the feeling in question yk just spelling it out to be thorough
thx harry for the blowjob manual <3
I had a few, got drunk on you, and now I'm wasted
theme of love as a drug
"give me some morphine" - mmith
"cause there's no antidote for this curse" - esny sorry i did that to fuck with myself mostly
"loving you is the antidote" - golden
"i don't know if i could ever go without, watermelon sugar high"
the substance getting harry drunk = "you"
And when I sleep I'm gonna dream of how you tasted
yeah there's nothing subtle about this, nothing at all. harry had his mouth on "you" and he's still horny yes we know who wrote stockholm syndrome
If you go out tonight, I'm going out 'cause I know you're persuasive
they love to party, so much is obvious
sub undertones (overtones?) bc yes this entire song is about sex this nightlife scene is not innocent
You got that salt, I got me an appetite, and now I can taste it
i'm hungry and you've got the salt, so i need you to make my meal taste good
-- i need you
-- you taste good
salt = semen and harry is hungry for it
"now": is he imagining it so vividly he can taste it, or is he writing this song while there's something in his mouth? probably both
You get me dizzy, oh, you get me dizzy, oh
La la la la la
We're getting dizzy, oh, we're getting dizzy, oh
drunk on sex, drunk on love
dizzy from mouth fucking. from getting his brains fucked out
"we"!!! ～ ws: sex makes us one - ecstasy of sharing physical love, ecstasy of being close, ecstasy of sex - through this act we've become one
Tingle running through my bones, fingers to my toes
Tingle running through my bones
arousal coursing through him
bones or boner, harry?
The boys and the girls are in
I mess around with him/them
And I'm okay with it
multiple interpretations:
boys as well as girls are into giving blowjobs and he's more than okay with it - fuck yeah we don't subscribe to heteronormativity
boys as well as girls are out with "you" and "i", "i" messes around with all of them and he's okay with it
boys as well as girls are out and "i" messes around with "him" and he's okay with it
they're out, having a good time, messing around. in terms of the pronoun used: is it "him"? is it "them"? - it's clear harry has sung both and has purposely left it ambiguous. he likes that the song is muddy, dirty. for everyone.
"him" or "them" could then definitely refer back to "you", but that's not set in stone
i literally picture a sex party here so i mean i don't wanna put ideas in your head and also pls don't hate me but. they like sex
I'm coming down, I figured out I kinda like it
And when I sleep, I'm gonna dream of how you ride it
comedown from sex
"kinda" - understatement of the century - first time experiencing that? experiencing what? some kind of orgy?
"how you ride it": they're generous to each other <3
SYNTHESIS
Right, so! I'm turned on.
I hope all the kids have been scared off by the crude language by now.
This song is about sucking dick, we know this. There are interpretations that like to entertain the thought of it being about oral sex in general, but I think it's now clear that the only thing that's entering mouths in this song is dicks.
Just like many songs Harry's written, its lyrics are wonderfully ambiguous, offering the listener the opportunity to interpret it in many ways.
Do you want to think of it as purely homoerotic, as Harry makes "you" feel like a gentleman before going down on him, to then let him ride him, go for it, babe. And we know Harry, we know he's sung "him" more than anything in the live versions, and "gentleman" is not there for nothing, so I do think a safe assumption to be made is that the focus of the song is men, and that "you" is definitely one.
Do you want to think it's a bi anthem, since the boys and the girls are in, getting their daily portion of salt? Live your best life.
Is the song a dream, with all the references to sleeping and dreaming? Did Harry meet "you" and proceed to have the wettest dreams of his life? Is the scene with the boys and girls simply conjured up in his sleep? All possible.
Does it describe an orgy at a sex party, where "you" dragged "i" off to, because he's oh so persuasive? Where all genders were present, all eager to mess around, all simply "okay with it"? Also a very valid interpretation.
The song could be about the very beginnings of when harry met "you", since he decides to stick with them and still has to dream about how "you" rides it. Or it could describe how harry decides to stick with "you" once and for all, since he's addicted now anyway and "you" is too persuasive to resist.
Honestly, through all the horniness and sex in this song, there is still that element of "you", someone he's always coming back to. The one who makes him dizzy, the one who makes him feel the best. He's "okay" with the random messing around, but it's "you" who's got him out of his mind, who he follows blindly.
At the base of the song, though, before i get carried away by my romanticism, is sex. Desire. Being horny as fuck. Oral sex. Anal sex. Becoming one by having sex. The ecstasy of sex with the right person. Having fun with sex.
Whatever interpretation you think is the most correct one, this point can't be forgotten. It's just easy, mindless, physical, intuitive.
I just think it's important to note with this song that it's easy to get hung up on the possible meanings and implications of lyrics. It's just a fun sex song, and analysing the lyrics doesn't mean we know about harry's bedroom or nightclub habits.
Okay? Okay, good.
#medicine#lyric analysis#i hope ppl take the disclaimer seriously#bc i don't want any reactions about.........................#eh whatever i'll brave the storm#hope there isn't one tho#aren't we all on the same page about this dirty ass song?#anyway tonight seems like a good night to share sexy stories so why don't we do that#in honor of medicine <3#also DO NOT send me a message about how they fuck i will not interact
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“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?
or
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)
part 2
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“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.
“H?”
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.
“Ow!”
“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.
“What’s wrong?”
“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.
“Seriously, H?”
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.
“Thank you.”
Mitch opened his mouth to say something else, but Heidi Gardener, another SNL member interrupted.
“Y/N, right!?”
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.
“I wasn’t!”
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.
“Lipstick?”
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?”
“I’m sorry?”
“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?”
“Yes!”
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
Seriously?
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.
-
part 2
#harry styles fanfiction#harry styles x reader#harry styles#harry styles x you#harry styles x y/n#harry styles fluff#harry styles angst#harry styles smut#harry styles fan fic#harry styles fanfic#harry styles oneshot#harry styles one shot#harry styles imagine#smut soon#part 1#harrys stylist right?#agh pls enjoy im so nervous#feedback is needed or ill be sad#hopefully you enjoy#lmk!!
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Hey, hello, hi! So, I've been thinking about some things, and I've decided to just ask and get it out of my head to calm down xd
So, if I understand correctly, you try to write reader in WS as neutral as possible, but some things are still based on your own experience. And if I understood correctly, in WS reader already been in a relationship before, right?
The thing I've been wondering, is how would the relationship go in WS if it was reader's first relationship? Like, they never had partners before and so they're inexperienced. Would their first night with Donnie be any different? How would they react on B.E.D.F.A.S.T.? And maybe any other thoughts you have on this question.
Sorry, I'm a weirdo xdd And thank you in advance!
Howdy and might I start with a 'proud of you!' Look at you reaching out; you did amazing!! I'm here for any and all questions and this is not weird at all!
In fact, I'd say this is fun one! 🤭
You've got it exactly. I try to make reader as every man as possible, but as a creative (I believe this is universal) you are always putting a little piece of yourself into your work no matter how outside the realm of your world you're depicting. Everything you see is through your own honed perspective, unlike any other and no matter what that will come through!
So reader is meant to be about 32/33 and thus it seemed typical to me that they had been in a relationship before and had had sex prior. Obviously, there are people who have never sex by that age or what have you!
Never had a relationship before and it seems like you might also be insinuating that they've never had sex before in that case, but I will write this two scenarios differently because I do love a writing exercise:
No Prior Romantic Relationships + Has Had Sex
I feel like largely this would play out the same from a sexual standpoint. They would be attracted to each other in the same way and would follow the same line of escalation due to that experience. Where it would change would def be in how much reader is able to handle and communication. Obviously we're still talking in a broad sense, so it could go one of two ways. One would be that reader doesn't put up with as much and fails certain cues due to inexperience. This would come hard into play especially around the time when he starts putting down all his rules in how he's struggling to put reader into his life (chapter 7 and revelations like him holding back). Since it is Donnie's first relationship, the learning curve would be WAY steeper. You have two people who have no experience it is difficult to become that patient and understanding of a partner with no experience. That isn't to say it's impossible, you'd have other types of relationships, friends, family, ect, that you would have learned to navigate, but this would be something far more raw. Even for someone with previous relationship experience, you need to remember that Donnie is a damaged person. He has deep and painful unhealed trauma, he's autistic, and he has only just, for the first time in his life, been able to live as himself which is not something he knows how to do. I am by no means saying that it couldn't work out, but holy hell talk about starting relationships on hard mode. It's hard to think that they would have weathered all the lies. Each time Donnie pushed reader closer and closer to a breaking point, I believe someone with no relationship experience might buckle more quickly at those points.
Let's take it another way though, being new to a relationship gives you a level a naivety. What does this mean to the story? Let's reset to what I said about them following the same line of sexual escalation. Now, if we were to take the naive route, this affects the story because then reader puts up with too much. When you're naive in a new relationship, you're often willing to put up with way more than you realistically should. You try so hard because you're blinded by love, you don't know better, and it's so very difficult to prioritize yourself when those feelings of affection and running wildly rampant. This changes the story because reader wouldn't be obviously hitting those push back points. They'd probably roll over more and think thing were okay when in reality they were tearing reader apart. Down this scenario, Donnie is affected negatively too. Where they'd probably break up in the first go at this, in this one, they'd stay in an unhealthy place where their relationship isn't a partnership. Donnie wouldn't reveal his backstory as early and I can see reader ultimately having a severe breakdown with Donnie being devastated because he had no idea it was getting so bad.
Again, this is just conjecture. There's no reason to say these won't work, but when I play the exercises out, you see I've come to two bad end scenarios. It's sort of like a dating sim (which might be a good place to mention I'm addicted to these sorts of games). Another thing to keep in mind is this is just the case if we stick to the plot of Weak Spot, which I don't think would happen in either of these cases. That's the beauty of writing; you change one thing and it cascades into a hundred others. I bet you I could take both the previous scenarios and turn them into the same positive and loving relationship, but the story itself would play out very, very differently.
But I have another scenario to run through!
No Prior Romantic Relationships + Has NEVER Had Sex
Now this one falls heavily on Donnie which he will struggle with immensely. He barely has time to take care of himself, let alone another person with where he is currently at mentally. Reader needed to press him for things he needed and he's still the hard giver in the relationship despite everything he's going through so I bet he'd be further taxed in this scenario. I have a harder time seeing them having the same sexual escalation so I imagine they would have had sex much further down the line. Sure, you can be a flirty savant having neither had a romantic partner nor sex, but it's not the norm and would depend heavily on your situation. When they did finally get to a sex step, it would have been reached methodically with more time spent at each base. I see their first date ending at heavy petting and Don excusing himself since he's losing control. He would force himself to learn control before he'd get anywhere near taking reader to bed. The arousal scent bomb that set Donnie feral would never have happened. i can't imagine getting placed naked in front of him while he's trying to explain what's going to happen and a person with zero experience wanting to interrupt that. Instead it would have been a slow and loving first time and since they would have hit the bases, reader would have been slowly stretched out to be able to take him along the way. Wild sex in this scenario would come much, much later down the line because Donnie would never chance this. I feel like he would struggle a lot with this one, not for control (he struggles way more with that), but he would have been closed off much longer. I don't think this reader would have pressed him on his holding back as much and he would be cold and callous for months and months, maybe even the first year of their relationship. For B.E.D.F.A.S.T. I can't see them even initiating at where they are currently (closer toward the second year of their relationship). Again, another scenario where I feel like within the restraints of the Weak Spot plot we are getting a bad ending, but if I actually wrote this out, I would probably take the story in a new direction!
Ah that was a blast! I'm sorry these weren't all good, but it was a lovely exercise.
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With a roll of the ice
pairing: Wheein x f!reader
c & ws: smut; ice play; sensory deprivation; mentions of alcohol; a lil swearing.
wc: 2k~
requested by anon
Round ice cube molds. You could have just gone for a regular plastic ice tray, the cheaper option at the store. But if it can serve a sexual purpose, why not? The process of moving to a new place with your girlfriend had you overanalyzing the simplest home utensils you needed. It was good to have that kind of freedom to choose.
Wheein just had the simpler intentions for it, though. One night, you came home to find her drinking alone at the still empty living room, lights all turned off. The lighted up fireplace was the sole reason you could see her, sitting with legs crossed and a glass in hand. A bunch of bottles, a second glass and her sketchbook, as well as her drawing materials, were all scattered around the floor.
"Whee, what are you doing...?" you asked while taking your shoes off. "I thought your group photoshoot was tomorrow," you worried about her drinking; better to not have to deal with a headache on the next day.
"I'm just having some coke. The alcohol is for you," she explained. "Can you get the ice for us?"
Not wanting to ruin the mood she set up, you used your phone flashlight to walk to the kitchen. There, you grabbed an ice bucket and emptied the silicone trays inside, shaking it a little to prevent the round cubes from sticking together.
"I would have picked it up before, but I didn't want it to melt before you arrived," Wheein said when you came back and placed the bucket on the floor.
"It's okay, babe," you assured, kissing her cheek tenderly after sitting by the fireplace with her. "Anxious because of work?"
She let out a sigh. You knew her really well.
"Getting better already, actually. It's good to have you here." Wheein smiled at you, stroking your knee with her hand. "I just needed to relax a little. Tomorrow is going to be a full day."
You nodded, reaching for a glass and the bottle of flavored vodka. Being so close to the fireplace, you reconsidered the idea of picking a drink that would burn you up even more. The current warmth was nice and it felt cozy, but it could be too much if you added more heat to it.
"Settling for the coke too? What a saint you've become," Wheein teased. A soft drink could be nice too, you thought, leaving your now full glass on the floor to look at her. She held a round ice cube between her thumb and index finger, rolling it slightly by moving both fingers in opposite directions. Well, now that brought you some thoughts back.
"This kind of... feels good," Wheein said, puppy-like eyes entertained with the water now dripping from her thumb, "it doesn't get sticky when it melts a little. And it rolls."
Right. It rolls. You pictured something like that, back at the store, wondering if it really would have this effect against her skin. Not simply dragging the ice across, but rolling it, gave a different perspective to everything. You bit your lip in excitement, now knowing your fantasy was real.
And well, why not feel this for yourself? One hand went to the bucket, but you needed both to get the ice out — it got stuck together. You appreciated the round shape inside of your mouth, rolling it around with your tongue, feeling your warmth slowly melting it. You sucked on the ice a little bit, stopping when Wheein's eyes met yours.
"You look really sexy doing this," she remarked. A side smirk allowed one of her dimples to show up, which turned into a laugh after you touched your own cheek, feeling the small ball formed by the ice. "So pretty."
You admired Wheein for a moment. Weak shadows danced around her figure, following the movement of the flames; hair recently dyed red held up in a neat bun, leaving her neck fully exposed. Around it she wore a bandeau, neatly positioned so that it didn't cover her Caddo tattoo. You found that detail particularly inviting, and added to the fact that she clearly wasn't wearing a bra...
"Why don't you try this too?" you suggested. The ice had melted already, but the cold sensation it left in your mouth, somehow, had you feeling hotter between your legs. "You'll find the temperature contrast sexier than me."
Wheein's gaze went down to your mouth, filled with desire for your humid lips.
"Can I try it from your source?"
"Please do."
Wheein really did move first. The coolness of your mouth warmed up in hers, as she simply stole that from you by chasing the kiss with all her greed. You felt like the flames from the fireplace itself had engulfed you when her legs wrapped around your waist, pulling you to the floor with her. Although when your lips parted, she was the one craving to cool it down.
"Oh my," she was able to say while gasping for air. Holding you by the back of your neck with both hands, she placed a few more quick presses against your lips before speaking again, "Hmmmm. I liked that it was... unexpected. Your mouth felt so soft from the cold."
You smiled when her fingers delicately caressed your cheek, tucking a strand of loose hair behind your ear. Wheein had her eyes on something else while doing it, though. Still holding your weight over her body with your elbows, you looked over your shoulder to discover that she eyed the ice bucket.
"Wanna try that again? With more than a kiss?" you asked, full of a smug satisfaction because the question wasn't even necessary — Wheein's pleading face spoke for itself.
_____
"Love, you really trust me a lot for this, huh," you said while tying the bandeau to the back of her head to use it as a blindfold. Depriving her from the sense of sight was part of your original fantasy, a way to allow her to have a better focus on the hot and cold feeling.
Wheein sat between your spread legs, backing herself into your lap after you moved closer to the fireplace. The orange light of the fire was now able to fully glow on her naked body. The air felt thick and hot when you breathed in, and a little sweat started building up on your back.
"I trust you more than I probably should," she whispered, leaning on your shoulder to place a few kisses along your jawline, "but you always repay it well."
"Right," you agreed, gently undoing Wheein's bun and letting the hair fall on her shoulders, making contact with your bare chest. One hand gave it a gentle tug, while you stretched the other arm to reach for the ice bucket, taking a round ice out. It quickly started wetting your palm, being just perfect for what you wanted to do. You got her hair out of the way with a harsh pull, pressing the ice against her neck. "I always make you feel so good."
Wheein's first reaction was to recoil at the sudden cold feeling, gasping loudly, but you held the ice in place with a strong grip on her neck.
"Shhhh, Wheeinie," you whispered on her ear as her gasping slowly turned into moaning, pleased with you using your palm to roll the ice against her skin, "this is just a massage. We haven't even started yet."
When it melted into a piece too small to be rolled, you simply dragged it across her chest, stopping at an already hardened nipple. The sensation of her skin under your cooled fingers felt softer than usual, the increased sensitivity having you muttering a curse against the back of her neck. Your other hand fetched for more round ice while you still held her boob, squeezing her nipple. Water dripped from your fingers and rolled down her stomach.
"More. Please," Wheein begged impatiently. Her hands were on your thighs, which were reddening from her burying her nails on them every time you did something right. You hoped to see a mark there by the end of the night.
"If you keep hurrying me up, I won't be gentle," you warned, shoving the ice against the boob you had neglected before and holding it strongly. Wheein's scream at the sudden shock ended up in a loud cry, her back arching at you circling the cube around her nipple. "Is that what you want, huh?"
"Uh-huh," she was able to shout out in agreement between her delicious moans, head now dropped backwards onto your shoulder. You moved your body to the side so you could whisper directly at her ear.
"What a slut you are."
Wheein lustfully mumbled a few yes yes yes I am when you stressed that word, like she had done many times before. She gasped in surprise when you stopped rolling the ice on her nipple, and gasped even harder when you took that same nipple in your mouth. Sucking the cold out of it. What was left of that cube you used to roll down her body, leaving behind a trail of water and stopping just before her pussy.
"Did you make a mess on the floor, Wheein...?" you asked.
You had inclined your head forward to look at the space between her legs. With all the action, Wheein had her knees up and under her chin, throbbing cunt fully exposed to the hot air. She was dripping on the floor, so much was the arousal.
"Hmmmmm, no. There's a lot of ice melting here," she lied. You smirked while thinking of how you would punish Wheein for that, one hand drowned in the bucket and getting really cold. The round cubes were now slowly turning into water altogether, coming out already humid — which meant that you didn't need to wait before using it on her.
"I would've been way nicer to you, Whee," you said, "but you don't deserve it."
Ring and middle finger squeezed her labia on each side, making the hole wider for the ice. Her reaction to the intimate contact with the cold immediately showed that she wanted you to put it in, her nails definitely leaving your thigh scratched this time. Instead, you simply stimulated her entrance, rolling and rubbing the round ice against it, even letting just a tip in. Wheein moaned sweetly, whispering your name, almost begging you to fuck her.
You took the ice into your mouth before it fully melted, wanting to taste her liquid even if the water was mixed in. Wheein grunted in annoyance from that, but there wasn't time to take her protests further — the same fingers which squeezed her open before now slid with ease inside of her, producing sweet wet sounds with each pump in. Part of you wanted to grab more ice, to roll it on her skin, to do anything, but you couldn't do much when her moans and then screams of pleasure filled your ears. Your hand was soaked with her climax in almost no time.
"Mmmmhm... Can't believe you didn't..."
You laughed when her words kept trailing off — Wheein was absolutely spent. She tiredly dropped into your arms after her orgasm, trying but failing to sound her complaints. Now any warmth was welcome, yours or from the fireplace, her hands pressing yours against her body to hug her tighter.
"What? You really wanna complain when I left you in this state?" you scoffed while gently removing the bandeau she wore as a blindfold.
Wheein sat up to face you, narrowing her eyes and pouting her mouth. She trembled a bit, still lacking the necessary balance, but kept her posture.
"I... I... Fuck." She gulped and shook her head, recollecting herself. "I just wanted you to roll the ice inside of me!"
ao3 link
#mamamoo fanfic#mamamoo imagines#mamamoo smut#wheein imagines#wheein smut#gg fanfic#rounded ice is the best really#didnt proofread so hope this is fine#wheein x reader#mamamoo x reader
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I have a question for you because you are SO GOOD at analyzing awtwb. Can you explain the “is this what people do?” Thinking that Simon is going through? Most of the things he goes through I see reflected in myself or people I know, but I haven’t seen that before. I would love to know all your thoughts on that?
Hi, Anon! Thanks for sending this ask and for your kind words about my analysis. ❤️
I would love to talk about "is this what people do"!
I'm going to give you my take, and then I'm going to include some thoughts from a friend who isn't on tumblr. Let’s dive in!
Simon asks "is this what people do" because he truly doesn't know what people do. He knows how to be a Chosen One, but he doesn't know how to be a person. He's spent the bulk of his life up until this point as a weapon. He understands how to fight, how to protect those around him, how to sacrifice himself, but he doesn't really understand living for the sake of living. In my answer to another ask, I talked about how Simon doesn't know how to be at peace. I think that's applicable here, too.
Part of what Simon struggles with so much in the time between the end of CO and the beginning of WS is how to live without having a defined purpose, a "mission". He's lost a lot of things that he allowed to define his sense of self, and now he has to sort out who he is without all of that. We see him start to make progress with living for the sake of living in WS: going on a roadtrip to a place he's always wanted to see; being silly and flirting at the Renaissance Faire and walking around with his wings out; flying over Utah, getting to feel the wind in his face and under his wings. But most of the time, he's still struggling with being at peace—living without a mission. Living for himself.
The WS epilogue tells us: "This is what happens if you try to hang on after the end…the pages go blank...Simon Snow's [story] is over." There's no established arc for a hero post-final battle—there's no set narrative or expectations for this point in Simon's life and he's struggling in the uncertainty of it all. He's also struggling with the lingering trauma from years of neglect, exploitation, and violence.
There's a reason the gang literally goes off the map in WS—there is no guide for this part of their journey, and, at least for Simon, doing the "normal" expected thing at this time (getting a flat, going to university, making new friends) isn't working for him. He doesn't have any idea what to do with his life now—this part was never planned out for him. As a child in care and then a boy soldier, Simon never had agency over himself. He was responsible for the fate of the World of Mages and saving all of magic, but he wasn't ever allowed to be responsible for himself. I don't mean that Simon doesn't know how to take care of himself—I'd argue he's the most self-sufficient and practically-minded of the gang because of all the time he was left to fend for himself. But Simon is going out into the world as an adult and there isn't someone else to tell him what to do anymore. (This is something we all face at some point growing up, but it's definitely more extreme in his case!) Don't get me wrong. Being in control of his own life is a really good thing for Simon, but it also leaves him without any idea of how to navigate through life. Someone else has always been there to give him orders or to give him a plan, but we see all of the plans in WS fall apart.
In AWTWB, Simon tries move forward with a new plan—one he thinks is best for everyone—fracturing his relationships with the two most important people in his life while also attempting to make a clean break from magic. It's the wrong thing to do, even if it's something that needs to happen. From the end of CO to the start of AWTWB, Simon chooses to do nothing, because he's afraid. Then he does the wrong thing, also out of fear.
Instead of fighting, which is what he's always done before, Simon allows fear to keep him from acting, allows fear to drive him away from what's important. Simon didn't fear dying as a child in the course of his heroic deeds, but he does fear a future spent with the people he loves (it's "frightening"). He fears it because it’s “uncertain” and he doesn't think he can hold onto it (“I never believed I’d get to keep you”). He doesn't think he has a right to try.
"Is this what people do" is Simon trying. It's him trying with Baz, specifically. Simon is scared because he and Baz are in unknown territory, and he cares so much about making things work between them. He knows how much there is to lose. He just doesn’t know what he needs to do to hold on to Baz. He doesn’t really have any idea what a healthy relationship looks like. I know I’ve seen discussions about how Simon never had proper relationship modeling. (@mostlymaudlin has addressed this and other aspects of Simon’s previous relationship experience with Agatha in this post that is highly relevant and I also just recommend it.) Yes, Simon has prior experience with Agatha, but he didn’t know what he was doing in that relationship either and he tells Baz that his experience with her doesn’t come anywhere close to his feelings for Baz. With Agatha, Simon saw a nebulous “happy ending” without knowing what that happy ending was going to look like, nor how he was going to get there. He has no idea of the reality of a healthy relationship or how to do the hard work to maintain it. This is what both Simon and Baz are learning in AWTWB.
When the refrain comes up, it's always in response to a milestone that Simon and Baz have crossed in their relationship, from (practically) moving in together to being intimate.
Simon is mentally taking a step back and looking at his relationship with Baz. He's looking at the things they're doing, as a couple. Things they've not managed to do before, or things they have done that he hasn't given himself the space to process—something he admits he never did with Agatha. Simon asking the question "is this what people do" encapsulates so much: Is this what life and love looks like for other people? For us? Is this what I'm supposed to be doing? What we're supposed to be doing? How do I feel about what’s happening now? What do I want to happen? Is this how two people love each other?
The ways in which the refrain shifts over the course of the book show us how Simon's thinking shifts as his relationship with Baz progresses. And at the end, the refrain has changed from a question into a statement. Seeing the first and last occurrences next to each other tells so much of the story of Simon's growth.
Chapter 38:
Is this what people do when they're in love? Do they just keep touching and talking? And then what? Like what is it all leading to? I don't mean sex, I mean…
If I knew what I meant, it wouldn't be so frightening.
I'm living second by second.
Chapter 82:
This is what people do.
They get close and try to stay there.
They stay.
They keep trying to hold on to each other...this is what they do. They keep trying.
…This is what people do. This is what we'll do. Baz and me.
…"Stay with me."
"I will."
This shift in confidence is subtle, but it is such a big deal! Simon has gone from not being able to think about the future at all to promising Baz that he will stay with him and keep trying in their relationship. He's answered the question for himself!!! He’s figured out how to try for Baz. The thing is, in the end, it really doesn’t matter what “people” do. It matters what Simon and Baz do, because they’re the ones who are doing this together, for each other. They have plenty of time to figure out how “what people do” is going to look for them.
Now I want to add some thoughts shared by RooBadley in the conversations we've had about "is this what people do". I always appreciate getting Roo's take on things, and I completely agree with them on this. (Do yourself a favor and check out Roo's AO3 if you haven't already.)
"the subtlety of [is this what people do is] a reflection of [Simon’s] queerness/a touchstone universal queer youth experience (is this what it's supposed to be like? I dunno, I've never seen A Person Like Me get to have a happy/healthy/normal relationship). Is this what (queer) people do? Am I doing it right?"
and...
"I've ruminated more on that statement as reference to the queer experience and I feel like there's more evidence to support that reading. we know he's had sex with Agatha (and he's woke/attentive enough to know about peeing to prevent UTI's, so clearly he knows what straight, penetrative sex is) and there's that lovely line at the start about Dr Wellbelove giving him the birds & bees talk, but leaving some things out (I love that bit) And he's so confident when he's talking with Baz about having had sex with Agatha, like, he knows what they did. It's just with Baz that he's suddenly in self-doubt "is this..." Land"
Reading this take from Roo about a universal queer youth experience definitely hit home for me. I think Rainbow did a superb job of speaking to multiple experiences with Simon’s journey and in treating that journey with so much care. I think it’s amazing that we get to see this part of the story, this aftermath and healing, because it really isn’t part of the established story arc we’re used to and it really should be. Like you said in your ask, Anon, we’ve all had lived experiences that help us see ourselves in these characters, and to watch them struggle and persevere and succeed is incredibly important.
If anyone has anything they’d like to add on, or another question to ask, as always, please feel free to do so! I will never get enough of talking about this book! ❤️
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Slumber Party
Original idea from here
Summary: Janus doesn’t cuddle. Well, maybe a little...
Warnings: None. Maybe some suggestive stuff, but it’s Remus so.
Taglist: @hannahdra-ws @royalty-of-all-things-snuggly
Janus was invited to movie night with the light sides again. He was thrilled of course. The third movie night he’s been invited to with everyone and Thomas.
Well, almost everyone.
Remus still wasn’t getting invited.
Janus always missed Remus during these nights. No one made dark jokes, no one picked movies that made Janus jump and grimace, no one wrapped him in their arms around him and kept him comfortably warm against an uncomfortably naked body.
However, they have tried their best.
Not naked thankfully, but Patton sure did try bringing him into the big, movie night, cuddle pile they have. Janus just sat by the end of the couch as everyone sat together, even Logan participated in the big cuddle pile by sitting beside Virgil on the end.
But this time, Janus decided it would be different. He’ll be bringing Remus with.
When he told his plan to his beloved little monster his plan, he was singing with excitement. Literally. He sang a whole little ditty about how excited he was.
“Do you think they’ll let me pick the movie? Have they let you pick a movie yet?” Remus stumbled out of his room the night of the event wearing nothing but the boxers he agreed to wear for tonight. Janus waited for him by the stairwell with his own silky pajamas on.
“Roman wasn’t going to let me pick the movie, but Patton forced him to after he stole my hat when they watched Frozen,” Janus said. He smiled when he saw the large stuffed Cthulhu Remus was currently hugging against his chest. “I’m sure they’ll play your movie if you asked.”
Remus snorted at the mere idea and shoved Janus towards the door. Janus smirked, though he was awfully nervous about bringing Remus along. He didn’t wish for any of the sides to exclude him again or— heaven forbid— distrust him again because he wanted to bring his beloved friend (and family, night he add) along.
As he and Remus arrived, the mood considerably dampened. Patton even let out a little “oh my goodness” at the sight of the infamous duke. Janus paid no mind to them as he took his usual spot at the end and Remus happily sat at his side.
They all waited in some… expected silence that both Janus and Remus reveled in. Janus more than Remus, really. As much as Remus loved making them squirm, he wasn’t the biggest fan of silence.
“Remus…” Patton was the first to say anything. He laughed nervously. “Uh, hi there… sorry I wasn’t aware you were coming—”
“Yeah, why is the skunk head here!?” Roman shouted, a whine carrying in his voice that made Remus giggle.
“Why not!” He retorted. Roman glared at him and pointed to all of him.
“And not respecting our rules!”
“Or himself.” Virgil muttered. Janus rolled his eyes. They’ve all seen Remus naked before, it wasn’t like there was anything new beside a few scars.
“And where in the name Poseidon, did he get that /adorable/ plushie of the Gods!?” Remus hugged his Cthulhu tighter at the mention of him.
“I got that for him,” Janus said, pointedly ignoring Roman’s original question. He challenged him to say otherwise with a look. Judging by Roman’s sputtering and pouting, he had won. “What are we watching tonight, hm?”
“Well, we were just about to vote—”
“Cinderella! Cinderella!” Remus shouted, practically vibrating in his seat and startling Logan into shutting up and moving closer to Patton. Remus didn’t seem to care though. “I want to watch Cinderella! Please, please, please!”
“Cinderella?” Patton and Roman sounded surprised by the plea, pleasantly and utterly confused respectfully.
“It’s his favorite.” Virgil sighed, rubbing his forehead. Remus has bugged them all about why Cinderella is his favorite many times before.
“Especially the live action one.” Janus added, watching with guarded fondness as Remus bounced and clapped his hands, nodding enthusiastically with excitement.
“Well… that sounds like a perfectly… reasonable movie to watch?” Patton ended his sentence like a question, looking at the others around him for any reason not to do it. Roman still shook his head and frowned deeply. He pointed at Remus again.
“I don’t trust his excitement,” he announced. “He’s going to try and ruin this movie for us, I know it.”
“Please, Roman, when has Remus ever ruined anything?” Janus says as innocently as he could, bringing a wine glass that he had just summoned up to his lips.
“Oh, oh!” Remus wiggles in his seat, excitedly slapping Janus’ knee. “What about that time I ruined Christmas for—”
“Let’s start the movie, shall we?” Janus interrupted Remus quickly. He cleared his throat and waved for the tv to turn on to the movie they had all— in theory— agreed upon. Remus was quickly distracted with a squeal as the classic Disney theme started playing.
They’ve all settled now that the movie started. There was the added unease as they continued to glance apprehensively in their direction. Janus continued to sip on his wine as Remus’ eyes stayed intently on the screen.
“So— if I may ask—” Logan started, keeping his eyes on the screen as well as everyone else as he talked. “Why is this your favorite movie, Remus? It seems uncharacteristic.”
“Cinderella is about being hated by her only family left and unable to leave her confinement, forced to act a certain way because of her step-mother’s favoritism,” Remus explained without a thought on if his honesty would make the others uncomfortable, and it certainly did. “Also in the original story, birds scratch out the step-families eyes as karma for being so cruel and I always thought that was neat.”
They all shuffled farther away.
As the movie continued and Janus got steadily tipsier, they’ve started to relax and enjoy the movie. Remus and Janus have started to lean against each other, Remus’ chin on his shoulder and Janus’ head against his. It was always better to drink a little when watching a movie with Remus, makes all the shouting in his ear easier to deal with and all his jokes and facts a little funnier. However, because of the wine, his guard was down around the others and he actually moved to sit on Remus’ lap without thinking about his image, settling Cthulhu in his own lap while Remus wrapped his arms around him.
He didn’t even remember they were still there until Patton had spoken up about it.
“I figured you didn’t like hugs, Janus?” He said, startling Janus out of his relaxed state. He tried putting his guard up again, but it was hard when he was a little drunk and also Remus was so warm and comfortable.
“Doesn’t like hugs? Ha!” Remus let out a loud, incredibly false laugh that made Janus smile and duck his head at the sound. “DJ Anus here loves hugs! Especially when he’s hammered! He’s extra affectionate when drunk, huh sexy?”
Remus squeezes him closer as he teases him and Janus rolls his eyes. He couldn’t help his smile though as he leaned into the touch. He holds up his glass.
“I’m not hammered, as you say,” he turned his head to look at Remus, nose brushing against his cheek. “I’m… just a little buzzed. Totally different.”
Remus giggled and rocked them back, pulled Janus completely on his lap. Janus looked like a little child as Remus curled around him like a protective shield, Cthulhu abandoned beside them.
“This is weird…” Virgil muttered, looking mildly uncomfortable with the public affection. “I don’t remember you two being so… close.”
“You never came to our movie nights.”
“Because you made us watch The Purge and then terrorized us for months about it after.”
“Eh, that movie was shit anyways,” Janus waved him off, eyes back on the movie. Cinderella had just found out about the ball. It was only a matter of time before Remus noticed and made any jokes about it, Janus needed to focus on not snorting at any of them to make sure he still had some dignity left after tonight. “Seriously, there are millions of things you can do during these crime free days instead of wearing a mask and murdering innocents.”
“Where’s the fun in that?” Remus said. Virgil made a face.
“I’m still reeling at the fact that anyone would willingly be that close to Remus,” Roman’s expression was sour as he watched them spoon out of the corner of his eye. “Are you not worried he might get too excited like this?”
“Oh, it’s happened before, but it’s nothing to worry about,” Janus clarifies, though he did feel a sting of annoyance at Roman’s disapproval. “And for your information, Remus is a fantastic cuddler. He only smells a little putrid and you get used to it.”
Remus giggles and hugs Janus tighter for a moment, the deceitful side practically drowning in his arms. He let out an excited shout and pointed wildly at the screen, leaning over Janus.
“Oh! Oh! This is my favorite scene!” He shouted, referring to Cinderella being trapped in her attic and the added backstory to the step-mother.
With the distraction in place, they all settled in and watched the end of the movie. Janus thought this night was rather successful. He might think differently tomorrow when he wasn’t drunk, but he did get to spend at least one of these movie nights safe and warm in his favorite side’s arms.
#sanders sides#remus sanders#janus sanders#patton sanders#roman sanders#logan sanders#virgil sanders#fic#dukeceit#it speaks
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Forgotten Love - part three: lions and tigers and secrets, oh my
series summary: You’re new to the Avengers. In joining the team, there’s a lot that no one yet knows about you. And there’s some unusual tension between you and a certain brunet. Under a pseudonym and with completely fresh start, and background, you hope for a chance at a new life. A better life. But how long will it last before someone figures out the life you’ve hidden away?
chapter summary: Quite some first mission. And some close calls, too.
pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader
words: 1.9k
warnings: only killing those hydra goons
A/N: Ooooh I’m actually really happy with this chapter. Hope you all like! As always, likes, comments and reblogs are much appreciated☺️
series masterlist
The jet speeds off to an unknown location. FRIDAY is left in charge, of course. Everyone else either sits at the sides or is preparing for when you land. You get up from your seat and walk to the middle of the jet, where Tony, Steve and Nat are all looking at a hologram of some sort of concrete building.
“Hydra base.” Nat states.
“We’ve gained intel to a specific experiment they’ve got going on. They’ve been trying to recreate more of the supersoldier serum. We can’t let that happen.” Steve informs you, in his patriotic, ‘I’m Captain America’ voice he likes to use.
“Right.”
“Fury’s informed us that they may be closer to recreating it than we thought. He’s picked up some new radiation that’s coming from this building.” Your gaze falls from Steve back down to the hologram. With a flick of his fingers it spins, giving you a 360 view of the place. The sight makes you feel uneasy, in a way unknown to the team.
“If you haven’t guessed already, our job is to get rid of whoever and whatever is causing this.” Tony adds. “We take out the bad guys, steal their shit, and boom. Avengers win.”
“Always so serious.” Nat jokes. You smile at her and head to the weapons area, grabbing a few knives and a handgun, and slotting them into various places on your suit. Bucky is also there, picking a few similar knives but a much larger gun.
“This is your first mission, right?” He asks, not even glancing at you. You think for a moment, not quite sure how to answer.
“Yeah. It’s my first.”
“Don’t sweat it. We’ll be in and out in no time. It usually goes according to plan.” He finally looks at you, smirking, and gives you a wink as he walks away, leaving you with more conflicting feelings.
“5 minutes to landing.” FRIDAY announces.
“We’ll head down now to scope out the area.” Rhodey says. The back of the jet opens and he heads off in his War Machine suit, followed by Sam, followed by Tony using his nanotech and jumping out before he’s fully suited.
“Looks like you’re rubbing off on him.” You hear Bucky say to Steve.
The jet lands in the clearing of a nearby forest, leaving the rest of you to venture through it to the base, undetected under the cover of the night.
“Ready?” Steve asks as you head out.
“So ready.” You reply.
You, Nat, Steve and Bucky all head through the trees and it’s not long before you reach the large, grey building. As you approach the facility, you would have guessed it was abandoned by now if it wasn’t for what Fury had reported.
“Emily, we’ll head through the front and you boys can go around the back.” Nat orders.
“Yes ma’am.” Steve salutes her with a smirk and you head off in your different directions.
You and Nat find a small side door where the front of the building is and to your surprise, it’s unlocked. Both of your guns are up at the ready as you sneak down the eerie corridor. Only dim ceiling lights cast any glow amidst the darkness, the kind that are always flickering in horror movies. You come up to a split in the corridor and push Nat up against the wall with you when you sense an unwanted presence.
You close your eyes, concentrating on the way this person is moving. Though the footsteps are inaudible, you can feel it: the vibrations through the floor, of a male, walking with the rhythm of a robot. Patrolling the grounds. The vibrations get stronger as he nears. When he reaches the corner is when you pounce, catching him in a headlock and choking him silently unconscious, until he falls limp in your arms. You snap his neck. One swift motion and you lay him down on the ground, letting the logo on his uniform get to you more than it should have.
“Damn, Quinn, you sure have some surprising moves up your sleeve, don’t you?” Nat comments, stepping over the agent’s body. “A force to be reckoned with.”
“Buck, come on.” Steve picks up a jog as the pair head through from the opposite side of the premises, but Bucky is still looking over his shoulder every 2 seconds.
“Sorry.” He mumbles, and picks up his pace to match Steve’s.
They head further into the maze and, after taking out a few HYDRA heads, they find themselves in a corridor with a single door on the left hand side, reading ‘WS room 1’
“Winter Soldier.” Bucky speaks softly. “That’s what it stands for. Winter Soldier.” He takes a stammered breath. “This is one of the places they tortured me.”
Steve pays his friend a sympathetic glance. Bucky halfheartedly smiles but resolves to staring at the floor. He walks up to the door and takes a look through the small square window. Through it, there’s a small room, encased by glass, with computers and other equipment as such. Ready to make notes. Observations. Beyond that is a larger room with a stand consisting of various panels and buttons and a lever, which is attached to the large-framed chair beside it. The mere sight of it causes Bucky’s skin to crawl with the pain of the past. It almost makes him jump when Steve places a hand on his shoulder, signalling the time to head off again.
“Uh, guys, you might wanna check this out.” Tony’s voice crackles through the coms. “Get to where I am right the fuck now.”
You and Nat start running down the halls now, checking Tony’s location using the new tracking device he installed into everyone’s suits. Taking out numerous faceless HYDRA agents on the way, you make it to a door, a huge metal door, where two agents lay dead either side. Bucky and Steve arrive just as you do.
Steve opens the door.
With a loud creak, a blue glow emits from within the room, and standing in the middle is Tony, surrounded by viles and viles and bottles and machines. Paperwork is piled up messily throughout the place. You all head inside, slowly making your way around, taking notice of all the colours in various glass beakers, tubes and containers, some smoking, some not. Glancing at all the scribbles on the paper scattered around, and on the walls, it’s clear that this is the testing room for their serum. And by the look of the fridge in the corner, filled with bright blue viles, they succeeded.
“Wait, have they already figured it out?” Steve questions.
“No!” Bucky slams his fist on the table, angered by the despairing truth.
“They did it. They actually did it. And God knows how long they’ve had this. For all we know, there could be dozens of newly created supersoldiers walking among us.” Tony says, taking out a vile and holding it up to the light. You take a sharp inhale and turn away from the rest of the group, suddenly feeling light-headed. As you focus your breath and lean against the workspace, you also focus on the paperwork in front of you. It’s a file. Your soul leaves your body as you stare at the black folder, a blood red HYDRA logo stamped to the front. Underneath, some writing:
‘CONFIDENTIAL - SS test subjects 1-12’
SS. Supersoldier.
You hesitantly open it. Nameless faces are enclosed, reduced to nothing but numbers. All have red stamps over their files, labelling ‘FAILED’ in red. Every one is the same; a face, a name, ‘FAILED’.
Until you reach number 12.
You slam the file shut and jolt back upright.
“Emily? You okay?” Nat asks. You spin to face everyone, who now looks slightly concerned by your sudden outburst. You release the breath you were holding in.
“Yeah. Sorry. Seeing this just makes me so angry, you know? How they just want to create monsters with this stuff. No matter the cost.”
“Tell me about it.” Bucky comments. Everyone gets back to what they were doing before.
You sigh in relief, as if you were expecting them not to believe you. You discreetly slide page 9 out of the folder and fold it up small enough to fit into a pocket in your suit.
“This seems too easy.” Bucky says, as he looks over a page of scribbled formulae. You all gather round and look through what seems to be the final renditions of their recreated serum. As you read through, trying to make sense of the cacography, an overwhelming sense washes over you. You shut your eyes, trying to focus the feeling, pinpoint the source of it.
“Guys,” You open your eyes wide. “we need to get out of here. Right now. It’s everywhere. Let’s go, come on!” You yell at everyone as you feel the heat rise beneath you. You run, and the others follow. Nat grabs a load of HYDRA’s work, taking whatever looks important enough, and heads out with the rest of you.
You make it out of the building and keep running towards the forest. Rhodey and Sam meet you from where they were on lookout outside.
“Get down!” You shout, and everyone covers.
The facility is blown to smithereens, the sound of it erupting through the dawn’s serenity. Bright orange fills the sky, melting into the sunrise.
“Let’s get the hell out of here.” Sam urges, to which everyone gets up and heads back, exhausted, to the quinjet.
You let yourself fall onto a seat, leaning your head back against the wall and releasing a long-awaited breath.
“Thank God we have you on our team, Quinn, otherwise we would have been barbecued.”
“Glad to be here, Stark.” You manage to push yourself up, gathering with everyone around the table, where the team is examining what Nat managed to pick up. You scan what’s in front, and your heart falters.
“Where did you get that?”
“Grabbed it on the way out.” She replies. “Looked important.”
“Well, yeah, files with huge capitals that say ‘CONFIDENTIAL’ usually are.” Sam remarks.
You’re tense the whole flight back, biting your nails and lip as you all go through the papers. And when you land, you’re the first one off the jet.
“How did it go?” Wanda asks when you’re back in the compound.
“You want the good news or bad news first?” Tony pours himself a drink.
“Tony, it’s like 7AM.” Steve states.
“Well done, Cap. You can tell the time.” Tony carries on pouring and takes a large swig, holding his glass up to Steve as he swallows.
You rush to your room in silence before anyone starts recounting the mission and passing round that file.
You shut and lock your door, sliding down it and letting your face fall into your hands. You reach for the piece of paper you took and unfold it. You can hardly bear to look at it, feeling sick to your stomach. You barely recognise yourself.
~~~
“Did they all make it out?”
“Unfortunately.”
“And her?”
“She’s with them now.”
“We will have her back. She can’t hide from us. Number 12 will be back with us soon.”
#bucky barnes#bucky barnes fic#bucky barnes x reader#bucky x reader#bucky x you#bucky barnes x you#bucky x y/n#sebastian stan#fatws#tfatws#the winter soldier#avengers#avengers x reader#avengers fic#marvel fic#steve rogers#black widow#natasha romanoff#sam wilson#tony stark#iron man#rhodey#forgotten love#forgotten love series
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