#I did this job interview today for a seasonal next summer and it went well | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

littlemisslipbalm · 4 years ago

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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?

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

“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

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broadstbroskis · 3 years ago

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no better company than you | nathan mackinnon

a/n: alright, i’m rolling in late for @antoineroussel oussel summer exchange (thank you love, for running such a lovely exchange again, it was wonderful and i’m glad i was able to particiapte) and i’m very sorry for the lateness! i had the pleasure of writing for the lovely @ghstandpucks 💜 again, i am SO sorry about the wait but i hope you enjoy this!

word count: 3.2k

-----

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry I’m late!” You slide into the booth and throw your bag down next to you, hoping to god you don’t look as frazzled as you feel; this restaurant is far too nice.

Nate just smiles at your words, too familiar with your family by now to know that you’re always running 5-10 minutes behind. He’s ordered a bottle of wine- a nice rosé, fitting for the beautiful end of summer day- and had already started pouring a matching glass for you the second you started sitting down. “How’d the interview go?”

You bite your lip. “Eh.”

“I’m sure it went better than you think.” Nate says encouragingly. “You’re too hard on yourself. All three of you are.”

And well, that’s not a lie. Your siblings were just as critical of themselves as you were. Sid was famously known for it and Taylor, your twin, was as bad as you. But…

“Listen to you!” You laugh at him. Nate’s just as bad as the three of you. A mini-Sid in many ways, to many people in your hometown.

But that was in Canada. This was Denver. And here, Nate was cool. Laid-back. Lowkey. Everything a professional athlete should be. Nobody knew about what a dork he really was, except his teammates.

And now, maybe you too, if all went well with this job interview.

“Don’t know what you’re talking about.” Nate says, looking at his menu to feign ignorance.

You giggle, pulling your own up toward your face. “Sure, buddy.”

It’s not often that you and Nate spend time one on one like this, even if you see him all the time over the summer. He’s usually with your brother when you see him, politely trying to decline your mom’s invites to dinner or already hanging at Sid’s house when you invite yourself over to your brother’s house for pool or lake time. Usually time one on one with Nate like this is brief, usually like in passing while he’s waiting for Sid in the kitchen while you’re eating.

It’s nice. Nate’s funnier than people give him credit for and it’s easy to relax into dinner and conversation, to forget about the anxiety from your interview as you chat about what’s new for both of you and gossip about people you both know.

By the time he drops you off at your hotel, it’s late and you’re too tired (and maybe just on the right side of tipsy) to even worry about the interview. You just barely change into pajamas, run through your nightly routine, and climb into bed, before shutting the lights off. It feels like you’re asleep before your head even hits the pillow.

In the morning, you’re awoken by the sound of your phone ringing, and it takes a second for you to place the sound, but when you do you pounce on it, recognizing the local area code immediately. “Good morning.” You say, trying your hardest not to sound like you woke up literally thirty seconds ago.

It’s human resources, from the job you interviewed for yesterday.

You got it.

-----

“Ew, no!” Your dad holds his hands up innocently, when you rush over to stop him from unpacking a box. “Why would you put that there?”

“Hey, sweetie, maybe it’s time for a break.” Your mom says gently, exchanging a look with your dad, who nods his agreement enthusiastically.

Which is fair. You’d just about almost taken his fingers off just because you didn’t like where he was unpacking colanders.

“Dinner!’” Your dad latches onto immediately. “Nate offered to take us all out tonight, I’ll let him know we’re ready.”

“Ready?” You frown, looking down at your workout shorts and baggy t-shirt.

“We’ll be ready in an hour.” He amends, already texting Nate.

Nate knocks on the door to the new condo you’re renting an hour and fifteen minutes later, sheepishly grinning when your dad tells him that you and your mom still need a few minutes. “Thought I had my timing perfect.”

Your dad snorts. “Oh buddy. Keep dreaming.”

He’s not too off on his timing, but unfortunately for Nate, you don’t have too much else going for you in your condo yet. Your dad had gotten your TV all set up, but in addition to the TV and living room furniture, you haven’t gotten much else, and that includes food and beverages. So the two of them sit in mostly silence while they wait another few minutes for you and your mom to finish getting ready.

“I told you that you should have just met us there.” You tell Nate, as he trips on a box on his way out the door.

“Oh, so this wasn’t deliberate sabotage?” He deadpans.

“You caught me. Just trying to keep you around the city full time until I have time to make better friends.”

Nate laughs, as the two of you follow your parents out the door. “Be nicer to me or I won’t introduce you to my friends.”

“Who said I want to be friends with your friends?”

“Children.” Your mom turns to look back at you and Nate smiles at her innocently, but it’s been a while since that’s fooled her. “Do we need to stay home?”

It serves to get the two of you moving, even as you laugh at her joke. Nate drives you to another one of his favorite restaurants, and dinner flies by, with Nate insisting on picking up the tab, even when your dad tries to fight him on it.

It’s started to cool down a little by the time you’re walking back toward the car, Nate and your dad still fake-fighting about paying for dinner, and you find yourself not realizing you’re smiling at the two of them as you walk behind them until your mom bumps your shoulder. “A few hours off for dinner with some good company was just what you needed.” She says.

And even though the smile on her face seems too knowing, you’re too tired to ask about it right now, so you just nod in agreement. “Yeah, this was nice.” You smile back at her.

-----

Mel Landeskog pokes her head around the corner and you wave at her, trying to catch her attention. “Jesus Christ.” She shakes her head. “I didn’t think he was serious.”

“I mean.” You bite your lip. “I did have to work today.”

“I would have picked you up!” She shakes her head, muttering under her breath, and you know Nate’s going to get an earful from her later. “But no, no. That dumbass just let you come all the way over here by yourself. Sends me a text to come meet you by the door. All casual.”

“I mean.” You send her a look. “Did you expect anything different from Nate?”

It’s the way she looks at you and sets her face that almost has you nervous for Nate. You’ve known Mel for a long time now, but really, you don’t know her from more than just years of NHL events. “I do now.” She says.

You hope Nate knew what he was getting himself into sending Mel a text to come find you earlier.

Once she leads you up into the box with some of the wives and kids, she’s back to smiling and laughing, making introductions all around. The mood all around is light and easy, everyone excited for the home opener of the season, and happy to be back with everyone again.

It’s fun to be back in this atmosphere. Hockey’s been a part of your life for so long and there’s truly nothing like the energy of the first game of the season. You feed off the energy, catching up with some familiar faces and chatting with all the other girls, probably too excited when they invite you to a girl’s night later in the week, but it feels good to have plans that don’t involve trying to invite yourself to Nate’s when you’re bored.

“Hey, good job tonight.” You nudge him afterwards, catching up with him in the family room.

He laughs, pulling you in for a hug. “A little different than what you were used to?”

“It lived up to the hype, I guess.”

“I’ll turn you from a Pens fan.” Nate promises.

It’s your turn to laugh. “Feel Sid’s wrath.”

“What’s he going to do? Check me into the boards? Bring it.”

Nate’s been hanging out with your brother and your family for years now, so he should really know better by now. “Okay, buddy.” You pat his shoulder patronizingly. “Sure.”

“I could take him.” Nate insists.

“Throw hands. Next game. I dare you.”

He side-eyes you, because you both know that’s not going to happen and it’s only a minute before you’re both laughing.

“I better see you on Friday!” Ashley Kadri shouts out to you as she’s walking past with Naz and Naylah, interrupting your laughter. “No excuses!”

“I’ll be there!” You call back. “Promise!”

When you look back, Nate’s pouting-exaggerated, albeit, but pouting. “Are you ditching me this Friday?”

“Yup. Found better company.”

“How dare you?” He cries. “There is no better company.”

“Well.” You shrug. “I’ll know for sure after happy hour on Friday.”

“Find your own ride home.” Nate says and then he starts speed walking away from you at an absurd speed.

“Nate!” You protest, jogging to catch up and he finally slows down enough for you to catch up when you round the corner, bumping your shoulder right back when you purposely bump into him in retaliation.

-----

No one lets loose like a group of moms when they’ve got a night without their kids.

Someone has mentioned this to you before, at a bachelorette party or a wedding or something, but you don’t think you’ve ever seen it really in action before until this happy hour.

“If the waitress comes back, order me another drink!” Kerry calls, before running off to the bathroom.

The waitress nods at her, before addressing the rest of you. “Another round?”

“Oh, please!” Mel nods quickly and repeatedly.

“Can we get a few more orders of mozzarella sticks too, please?” You look down at the empty plates in front of you. “And maybe some nachos too?”

“Yes!” Jackie lights up across from you. “Great call!”

It pretty much only goes downhill from there and by the end of the night, both Mel and Ashley are crying for reasons no one is sure of entirely and you’re pretty grateful to see Nate among the group of husbands and boyfriends to come to pick up all their girlfriends.

So grateful you scream his name the second you see him. “Nate!”

He winces, trying to pull his ear away from you, but he’s laughing. “Guess you had a good time, huh?”

“Uh huh!” You nod enthusiastically, not realizing how loud you are until he winces again.

Nate laughs. “Alright, I think it’s time to go home.”

You gasp loudly. “I can’t leave my new friends!”

“Your new friends are all leaving you!”

You frown, but look around and realize he’s right. Naz has already sneakily pulled Ashley out of the bar and Gabe and Erik were collecting Mel and Jackie’s things. “Oh.”

“Oh?” Nate parrots. “Come on, get your stuff, crazy girl.”

“Hey!” You protest, grabbing your purse. “I am the least crazy person in my family.”

“I hate to break it to you.” Nate says, as he guides you into standing. “But that’s not saying much.”

He’s right, but you bump him with your shoulder anyway as you walk past. That’s about sibling honor and shit.

Nate parked too far away and by the time you reach his car, you’re leaning on him, the adrenaline from hanging out with friends wearing off quickly. Nate’s nice about it, guiding you to his car and then helping you into his front seat before heading around to the driver’s side.

“You guys had a fun time then?” Nate says, once he’s started driving and you’re half asleep leaning against the window. “Looks like it at least.”

“Yeah.” You nod sleepily. “But you were right.”

He chuckles. “About what?”

“There’s no better company than you.”

-----

Nate becomes pretty clingy after that night, texting and facetiming whenever he’s out of town, and stopping by pretty much anytime he’s got a free minute. It quickly becomes something you look forward to, missing his visits when he’s out of town and looking forward to his calls, smiling when his texts come in and breaking up your work day. And it isn’t long before you realize that you’re being just the same. Sending him messages before and after games. Inviting yourself over for dinner and making Nate cheat on his diet.

In a blessed move from the NHL scheduling department, Sid and the rest of the Pens are scheduled to arrive in town on a Friday morning and aren’t leaving until the end of the weekend.

They have a practice scheduled for early afternoon, which is perfect for you to wrap up your work day before heading over to watch the end.

Geno lights up when he sees you watching from the glass, the first person to acknowledge you, and skating over in the middle of the drill, leaving behind two shocked linemates. “Mini!” He shouts cheerfully, even as you roll your eyes at your least favorite nickname. All because you happen to be the shortest of your siblings. “Great to see you.”

“You too, Geno.” You smile warmly at him, a little annoyed that you can’t get a giant bear hug from your favorite pseudo-older brother right away. “But I don’t think a few other people feel the same right now.” You jerk your chin back over his shoulder.

He turns his head quickly but then looks back. “Psh. They’ll get over it.”

You bust out laughing, which is right about when your brother comes over, and in classic Sid fashion, is all about hockey. “Stop being a distraction.”

“I was minding my own business until Geno came over here!” You protest, even as Geno starts laughing and Sid eyes you skeptically.

“Why don’t I believe that one?” Sid says dryly and sure, maybe you were making faces at some of the guys you knew well as they were passing you, but you weren’t actively being a distraction.

“That’s your prerogative.” You tell Sid, who shakes his head and pulls Geno back for the remainder of practice.

Practice doesn’t last for too much longer and you spend a few minutes chatting with the coaching staff while you wait for Sid to change. But he and Geno finally come out of the locker room and you stop mid-sentence to throw yourself at your brother.

Sid’s laughing and so are you, but both of you start laughing even harder when Geno pulls you both into his arms. “Two of my favorite people!”

“Taylor’s going to be so offended.” Kris grins, watching the three of you amused.

“Taylor?” You grin back at him, going for a hug once Geno releases you. “How about his wife and kid?”

“Those are my other favorite people.” Geno reasons.

“Now I’m offended.” Kappy deadpans.

“You’re not even close.” Geno grins, roughing his hair.

Kappy tries to get him right back, but Geno just swats his hand away and then Sid’s shaking his head, like this is just the same shit, different day. “Look what you did.”

You grin, leaning against him. “Not sorry. I’ve missed this entertainment.”

Sid shakes his head. “Then you can round them up for dinner.”

You do. Easily.

Nate had suggested one of the team’s favorite restaurants and you’re happy to see that he’d accepted your invitation to join everyone, even if he rolls in a little late. You’re deep into Kris’ camera roll, looking at pictures of his kids and catching up on stories that you haven’t heard about them recently, so you don’t even notice he’s arrived and said hello already until he blows on the back of your neck.

You jump. “What the hell?”

Nate’s grinning. “Hey.”

You shake your head at him and bump your shoulders against him. “Hey.” You mimic and then turn right back to Kris.

But your shoulder stays leaning on Nate, and it remains there comfortably all night.

-----

Sid’s a little cranky when you first meet him for breakfast the morning after the game and you’re sure it has everything to do with the last minute turnover that cost them the game (and bragging rights over Nate this summer, which is really what he’s probably cranky about).

He gets over it pretty quickly though, and soon the two of you are laughing and talking, catching up about your family and your lives.

“-and I even love my office, the vibes are just great!”

Sid shakes his head. “Vibes.”

You grin. You know he hates that word. “Good vibes.” You confirm.

“So you’re liking Denver?”

“Love it.” You confirm, smiling.

“Meeting good people?”

You eye him skeptically. “Yes dad. I already said my coworkers are great and I’ve been hanging out with Nate and his friends a lot too. It’s good”

“Geno thinks there’s something going on between you and Nate.” Sid says casually.

The jump of your heart is far from casual. “Oh yeah?”

Sid eyes you but his response to that is surprising. “You know if there was something going on between you and Nate that would be okay?” He pauses, watching you again, but your face is completely neutral, purposely not moving. “Right?”

“You know if there was something going on between me and Nate that your opinion wouldn’t matter at all, right?”

He grins, laughing as he nods, but after he takes a bite of pancakes he says, “To you, yeah. To him, it does.”

“Why?” You blurt out, giving yourself away before you can stop yourself.

But Sid doesn’t say anything to that. He grins again and then changes the subject entirely.

-----

You only make it about a day before you’re knocking on Nate’s door, pretty forcefully.

“What’s up?” He swings the door open, with a frown. “You okay?”

“Does what my brother thinks really matter to you that much?” You blurt out. It’s been bothering you ever since Sid mentioned it at breakfast. That you lasted this long was probably a miracle.

Nate blushes and your jaw drops. “It-”

“Oh my god.” You grin delightedly. “Come on, really?”

“That’s not-” He blows out a frustrated sigh. “You’re really going to make me say it?”

You nod, but you’re pretty sure he’s not going to get far into what he’s going to say.

He sighs again. “It’s not about, like, his approval, or shit. It’s just- he’s important to you. So obviously he’s important to me-”

You kiss him.

“You know that you don’t even have to worry about that, right?” At some point, you’d slid one hand to his hip and the other arm around his neck, and the hand there plays with the hair at the nape of his neck.

“I’ll argue about that with you later.” Nate says impatiently and so you’re laughing when he kisses you again.

#nathan mackinnon fanfiction #hockey fanfiction #hockey fanfic #hockey imagines #nhl fanfiction #nhl fanfic #nhl imagines #my hockey fics

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7wanderingpaws · 4 years ago

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Always, Yours (1)

(gif not mine) - fluff Baek ㅠ

Pairing: Baekhyun x reader

AU: professor Baekhyun, domestic AU, family AU, triplet craze AU

Genre: FLUFF

Warnings: none

This is a sequel to Simply, Yours! You do not need to read it first, but it will give you better understanding of the situation in the story.

Enjoy!

Masterlist / story masterlist

Next -->

<3 <3 <3

“Ta-da!” Sukyeong held out two coupons in front of your face, her excited smile not dazzling enough for you to mimic it. “Let's start working out!”

You were unsure right away for many reasons. First one was the squirming infants on you and on her. Juna was the eldest triplet but she had nothing on the middle one, Junhee, who was currently tapping away on the play mat made out of pastel coloured puzzles in front of the big couch in the spacious living room. Jun was the only boy triplet and the youngest. He was peacefully sitting on your lap, your palms flat on his cute baby tummy while he was looking up at Sukyeong with huge eyes that, the more he grew, the more they resembled his father's. The issue was, where would you put your munchkins while you'd be working out?

Second one was more personal and one that you felt guilty for thinking about, but you couldn't help it. Would you have enough energy to go through sixty minutes of work-out? You were still breastfeeding and pumping, by now completely accustomed to it. It made up a huge part of your day; if you didn't have the infants pressed to your breast, it was the pump attached to you, hidden under your shirt while you were running around the house, trying to get chores done while the babies would nap. Being exhausted was a given, but squeezing in more exhaustion? Doubtful.

Third one was the one that always gave you a slight headache. Travelling through busy Seoul was difficult to do by yourself with triplets. Despite living in a very good apartment at the moment, which was a kind present from the government as a thank you gift for bringing triplets to the aging society, it didn't mean your financial issues disappeared with it. Keeping up the apartment was a huge responsibility; the energies, the water, the common fees, lots of management with the apartments' committee that your husband became part of - it all required money and the lottery ticket you received and made you a billionaire quickly dispersed in your bank account. Another issue were the triplets themselves. Keeping up with them, buying diapers, clothes that they seemed to outgrow in a speed of light - it all required lots of income but there was only one source - Baekhyun, your husband.

As much as you always told him you would find a job to keep the financial stability, you could hardly find a time to sit down and go through job offers, let alone actually prepare for an interview. You knew many companies would refuse you if you as much as mentioned you were a mother.

“Oh, no, I can practically see the turning gears in your brain, mumma friend,” groaned Sukyeong and leaned in to press a loud kiss to Jun's face which in turn made him surprised. That surprise quickly morphed into a huge, toothless grin and you were fast to follow him, too. Jun was the weakest of the triplets and was prone to get more sick. He had a terrible season of harsh refluxes which made you and Baekhyun extremely worried and unhappy. Jun wouldn't be able to accept your milk, vomiting it out right after swallowing. His smiling face meant more to you than anything else in that moment.

“Auntie Sukyeong is being silly, hmm,” you cooed lovingly and you also leaned down to press a kiss to the top of his head. He had dark baby hair growing, and it always made you realize just how fragile these babies were. “I don't know Sukyeong,” you finally answered her. “I would love to work on my body and gain back my old one but I just can't see it happening.”

She quickly held up her hand. “Before you get into all the details - they have a little baby corner where you can leave the munchkins while we work out! And-and I would come with you! We have a car with Chen, so I'd pick you up and then we don't have to worry about travelling in an over-packed bus.”

You pursed your lips, thinking. “What time is the training?”

“I think it starts at seven in the evening!” she exclaimed and quickly took out her phone to search. “It's lots of cardio and core strengthening so it's very beneficial for you!”

“Hmm, I would have to discuss with Baekhyun,” you murmured. “He comes home late these days but I just want to know his opinion.”

“Make sure you don't get squeezed down by your hubby,” Sukyeong noted and leaned down again to look at Jun. “I know you guys are basically inseparable but he's been working so much since he became a professor. Make sure you don't become second to him over his work.”

“Well, he is the youngest ever, so I understand he wants to try his best.” You wanted to question her words - Baekhyun never prioritized his work over you or your children. He was just about to be thirty and you were just in the middle of your twenties, you didn't think you would reach that kind of crisis in your relationship yet.

“Yeah, but he doesn't have to do the hapkido training in the evening, yet he decided to do it,” she reminded gently, and touched Jun's cheek, “so you can do just the same, right? You are always with the babies and spend lots of time by yourself. You deserve to have a little time dedicated to you and, of course, me!”

You smiled but it didn't quite reach your eyes. Sukyeong wasn't wrong but you knew Baekhyun was only trying to start off his professor career as good as he could. He upped his game as a cool professor by always wearing outstanding suits - dark red, striped, the list went on. He looked very, very handsome and it sometimes even pained you to let him go to school like that. He told you it was to make sure people remembered him in the department and for his students to think he was cool; a trust-worthy professor to whom they could always turn to; a cool professor with whom they could have a good workout session in the evening and try to defeat him in hapkido. It was all great, but his work brought you back a tired husband.

“Maybe you're right. I will talk to him tonight. When do the classes start?”

“Next week! Tuesday and Thursday! I think it's the perfect timing!”

“Okay, okay,” you laughed. Your best friend could always make you giggle when you needed it. “I'll talk to him and let you know, hm?” Just as you finished the sentence, you jumped to your feet, trying to prevent Junhee from climbing over the small coffee table. “Aren't you a little wild girl? You must be after your father,” you breathed and Sukyeong laughed.

Baekhyun returned to a quiet apartment that evening. It was past eight and it meant triplets must have been asleep by then. He felt guilty right away, because he missed their bedtime. It wasn't like it was set - they woke up enough times during the night for Baekhyun to be by their side, but he still wanted to be part of the evening routine like bathing them, being next to you when you fed them, changing their nappies and their clothes. It was all the little things, but he was missing out on them.

You were lying on the couch, your eyes closed, your arm over your eyes to block the light out.

He crouched next to you, taking your hand in his. “Honey, I'm home,” he murmured gently, watching you remove your arm and smiling down at him tiredly.

“Hey, baby. Let me heat up the dinner,” you said, sitting up right away, but Baekhyun stopped you from standing up.

“Sorry I came home late again,” he said guiltitly. He brought your hand to his lips, kissing it a few times while looking intently into your eyes.

“It's fine,” you sighed and cradled his cheek. He leaned into the touch and eventually pulled on your hand to move closer to him, which you did. He met you half-way, pressing his lips to yours. He prolonged the kiss by puckering his lips several times, making little kissy noises that made you pull away and smile widely. Baekhyun immediately grinned.

“How was your day, princess? You look very tired,” he noted, slight worry etched in his features.

You shook your head and pressed another kiss to his lips. “The usual, you know it. Sukyeong was over and we talked,” you told him, and you wanted to bring up the topic of you attending workout classes when he said:

“Good, good, I’m glad she kept you company. I am in charge of some doctoral students now, so I need to lecture them over the summer break, but otherwise I made it clear that I want a full summer holiday so I can be with you more,” he informed you and nuzzled your nose.

You sighed in content. “Do whatever you think is the best, Baekhyun,” you whispered, your breath hitting his lips. Your hand reached out and tucked on his tie. “I just want you to enjoy your work.”

“I know you do but you and the babies always come first. Always,” he emphasized and this time brought both of his hands up to your cheeks and kissed you again, more eagerly. “I missed you,” he murmured and dived back in, nibbling on your bottom lip.

Humming in pleasure, you shimmied yourself closer to the edge of the sofa so that Baekhyun was crouching between your legs, your hand untying his tie. “I always miss you,” you murmured between the kisses.

He kissed you one last time and smiled. “I don’t want dinner. Let’s just cuddle, hm?” He flickered his eyes up to yours, his thumb running over your cheek. “I had a light dinner in school anyway.”

You nodded. You felt like your body weighed another twenty kilograms so you didn’t take much to convince.

After all, finishing the day a little earlier with Baekhyun by your side in the bed was always the best way to wind off. You found yourself in his embrace under the sheets, his black shirt hiked up as your arm rested around his middle.

He smooched your temple. “Was Jun okay today?” he asked quietly into the darkness of the room.

Baekhyun had texted you many times during the day to double check on his son but he still had to ask to make sure nothing happened in the short time he wasn't in touch with you.

You looked up at him. “He was okay, thank god. I hope that reflux is finally over.”

“I hope so too,” he sighed and kissed you again. “It’s so heartbreaking to know he is struggling to receive food.”

Hiding your face in his neck, you pouted against it. Everything about babies was scary. Both of you got used to them and to the crazy lifestyle but anything that would go wrong would throw you off the boat. Jun always needed special attention. “It will be all fine, right?” you murmured against his skin and as a reply, he tightened his embrace around you.

“It must be. Jun is a healthy and sturdy boy just like me, hm?” he joked.

You breathed a small laugh. “Yes, you're absolutely right.” Pushing yourself up, Baekhyun's arm loosened and he looked at you with questioning eyes when you faced him. “Actually, I wanted to ask you - Sukyeong has a coupon for these workout classes. They start next week at 7pm. I'd be away on Tuesday and Thursday for a couple of hours. Would you mind if I go for it with her?”

Baekhyun's eyes kept flickering to your lips as you spoke and you felt your heart swell whenever he looked at you like that. He finally met your eyes and brought his hand up to brush your hair out of your face. “You should totally do it if you feel like it, sweetheart. It's your body and I know you don't get to move around much when you're at home a lot. What kind of workout is it?”

You pulled a thinking face. “She mentioned core strengthening and cardio.”

“That's very good. You should definitely work on those to keep your body strong,” he advised in a gentle tone. “But just know that if it will be too hard, you don't have to keep doing it, alright? Your body is perfect and as long as you're healthy, nothing else matters.”

Baekhyun always made sure to provide reassurance even when you didn't ask for it. You smiled widely and leaned in, hugging him. You were literally splattered all over him and he brought his leg over yours to accomodate you better. “Thank you.”

He hummed and kept playing with your hair that managed to grow quite a lot in the meantime. Even though it was falling out like crazy after giving birth and your hair brush gave you a heart attack whenever you made a single swipe with it, you didn't pay it much attention. Being so busy with the kids, you hardly took notice of how you actually looked.

“What about the munchkins? I'll try to make sure I'll be home early but if I can't make it where will you put them?” he asked again.

“Sukyeong said there is a baby corner where mothers can put their kids for the time being.”

“Is it three-month-old-baby safe though?”

“I will try to contact them to double-check, alright?”

He hummed again in reply.

“You trust me with them, right?”

His hand stopped brushing your hair. “What kind of question is that? Of course I trust you with them, baby,” he replied quickly. “You're their mother. If there is anyone who knows them well, it's you.” He paused and you snuggled yourself even closer, making Baekhyun chuckle. “But you know what?” He leaned into your ear. “You'll always be my baby. My little lady.”

His breath tickled you on the ear and you laughed, even his words tickling your heart. He laughed along and he rolled you over so that he was on top. He started dropping sweet butterfly kisses all over your face and you scrunched your eyes close, emotions of love, joy, contentment making you feel like a millionaire thanks to your husband.

“You don't have anything to reply to oppa?” teased Baekhyun and smooched you under your ear. “Tell oppa you love him.” Another kiss on your neck. “Tell oppa he is the best.”

You kept giggling. “Baekhyun c'mon! Stop!”

“Not until you say what I want to hear,” he refused with a cheeky smile, kissing your lips loudly.

You gasped when you felt his hand under your shirt, tickling you on your side. You squirmed under him, trying to suppress the laughter that was making your muscles hurt. He was being a big tease and you knew he wouldn't stop until he had it his way.

“Oppa, I love you,” you told him through laughter and he stopped tickling you right away, suddenly very attentive to your words, “oppa, you are the best,” you said breathlessly, reciprocating the eye contact. “I'm oppa's baby,” you added and felt your cheeks heat up.

Baekhyun observed you with a smile. “That's right,” he murmured eventually and leaned in, kissing you on the lips. “You're oppa's baby girl,” he said in a low tone, his lips moving against yours. He captured your lower lip in a slow, sensual manner that had your insides ignite with passion. You closed your eyes and followed his lead, his kiss purely there for the sake of showing you love rather than leading to something more.

It was only nine in the evening, but it was by far the nicest time you had in a while; your triplets sleeping, your husband home and only yours until work would steal him away from you, and he did his best to make you feel loved, appreciated, beautiful and wanted.

Morning came much earlier for you. Junhee was up at three which you found quite good since they slept ever since you put them to sleep the night before and therefore enabling you and Baekyhun to have some alone time.

Quickly grabbing the intercom so that Baekhyun wouldn't wake, you went to their room, the three baby cribs and a small dimmed light welcoming you. Junhee was crying, rolling in her place which was her new favourite pastime to do since she learned how to keep her back up and straight.

“Shh, shh, sweetie, don't cry.” You took her in your hands and rocked her in your arms while you checked the remaining two infants. Jun was wide awake, his eyes looking back at you with interest which you found funny, because he didn't make a single peep, while Juna was about to follow her younger sister, her small face already scrunching up at the sight of you.

Just when you were about to reach for her while you were balancing Junhee in your other arm, you felt a pair of familiar ones on your waist, stopping you. “Let me,” Baekhyun rasped into your ear, sleepily kissing your cheek. He walked up to Juna and brought her out of her crib, the baby looking tiny on his broad chest. She started to wail just in time, and you and Baekhyun exchanged looks that spoke volumes - you would be up for a while.

There was a small corner in their room with two rocking chairs that Baekhyun insisted on buying for feeding time. While you sat down in one, Baekhyun went out to heat up some breast milk you pumped earlier, so that Juna could feed.

You adjusted your shirt and within seconds Junhee attached her tiny mouth to your breast, her eyes closing in delight as she sucked on your milk. Smiling, you made yourself comfortable and closed your eyes too, sleep quickly chasing you down.

Baekhyun appeared next to you with a bottle that contained the heated up milk and had Juna eat. Just like Junhee, Juna closed her eyes as she diligently drank, making Baekhyun's features soften with affection. He had her lying on his thighs, her tiny feet resting against his stomach while he held up the bottle for her. Occasionally, her small hand would tap against Baekhyun's long fingers which you found endearing. His index finger was bigger than her whole hand. “Jun doesn't seem to be hungry,” he commented quietly as he looked at Junhee in your arms. “Did he eat last night?”

“Yeah, he ate well,” you replied in a low voice. “I think he just isn't a crybaby,” you said with a chuckle. “These two sisters keep pushing him aside all the time.”

Baekhyun looked down at Juna. “Well, they better not. You will have to take care of your younger siblings, miss Byun Juna,” he told his daughter in a cooing voice. “So you better be a good older sister.”

You shook your head at his words and he laughed, sending you a wink. “You should go and rest, babe,” you told him after a while, “you have to get up early.”

“I'm not leaving all the work to you. We are in this together, right?” he said just as he always did. That was his iconic sentence that always made you effectively shut up. He was right, and you shouldn't have been taking away his father duties, but you knew he had a lot of work. Eventually, he would be nearing his limit and you didn't want that.

“That's more like it,” Baekhyun commented when you didn't reply.

You only managed to smile, closing your eyes again. Despite getting used to this lifestyle, it still made you feel uncomfortable how the babies would bite down on your nipple or the small cramps you'd get in your abdomen while feeding. Also-

Wetness was what made you open your eyes to look at the unoccupied breast. Before you could say something, Baekhyun spoke up: “Should I bring Jun? Or the pump?” His worried eyes were looking at the leaking milk, your shirt quickly becoming drenched.

You sighed, feeling helpless. If some mothers weren't able to produce milk, you were the exact opposite. There were times where you had to let out milk even though you already fed, even though you already had enough milk in storage for later. It kept pouring out of you and you didn't have other choice but to release it. The entire family could easily feed off of you at that rate.

It would have been okay, but the pain of dried up milk in your breasts was something you were scared of, so making sure you could let the milk flow was important.

“Can you please bring me the pump?” you told your husband absent-mindedly and Baekhyun was fast to cooperate while keeping Juna in his arms so she wouldn't be disturbed.

And just like that, you stayed up till early morning until the triplets fell back asleep - you waited for Jun to be hungry, and finally lied down when Baekhyun was getting ready for work. He even made sure the babies' nappies were fresh.

With swollen eyes, you watched as he dressed into one of his striped suits, looking like a Burberry model. He turned to look at you as he buttoned up his white shirt, his hair smoothed back, revealing his forehead. “How are you feeling?” he asked you gently, walking over to your side.

You smiled. “I'm good, don't worry, babe. Your lunch box is in the fridge, don't forget it.”

“You didn't have to prepare it,” he clicked his tongue, “just make sure you eat your food, alright, sweetheart?”

Nodding, you sighed and Baekhyun turned to put on his cardigan. “I'll be off. I'll try to come home early, hm?”

“Okay,” you mumbled, bewitched at the sight of him. “Kiss me before you go, handsome professor Byun.”

He gave a half-smile and walked over to you, leaning down so his face was hovering above yours. “Of course I would kiss you before I go. I can't leave my precious princess without a kiss,” he whispered, making you smile amorously. He pressed a sweet kiss to your puckered lips, making sure to prolong it. “Rest, okay?”

You nodded. “Another one,” you demanded and Baekhyun laughed, though complied. “Mm, I'll miss you.”

“I'll miss you too,” he sighed and pecked your forehead as a final kiss. “Text me, hm? I'll go say bye to the munchkins, too. Gotta go now,” he straightened up and gave you a smile before turning and leaving the bedroom.

You heard him shuffle around the apartment before he left for his long day at work.

Deciding to sleep until the babies would need you, you turned around and nuzzled your face into Baekhyun’s pillow, his gentle scent mixed with faint baby detergent pulling you into a fluffy cloud of dreams. That was Baekhyun to you.

A/N: Hi, welcome back to the first chapter. It will slowly all start to roll, but if you read Simply Yours, it is anything but drama after drama. Expect a similar concept too, hope you enjoyed the FAMILY in this chapter!

Thanks for reading!

Please try to comment! I appreacite likes, but a word or two never hurt! ^^

#baekhyung fanfiction #baekhyun fluff #baekhyun scenario #exo fluff #exo fanfiction #byun baekhyun #baekhyun imagine #kpop fluff #kpop imagine #kpop fanfiction #baekhyun fic #baekhyun angst #baekhyun smut #Always Yours #mywritings

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sadachmesarthim · 3 years ago

Photo

yes this is a rewrite, feel free to fry my ass on anon about it.

content: starker being mean to each other, peter parker has Supportive Friends™, tony has daddy and mommy issues, quentin beck is a Mean Boss™, smoking, secondhand smoke.

word count: 3.0k

square filled: coffee shop au -> link to playlist here

part two is here!

a little vocab lesson before continuing: mobster = really high up in the chain of command for this group of coffee shops. they go around training new hirees, and often decide who gets to move up the line of command. they get to travel on company money, and are very well respected in the workplace. mobsters usually come in groups - siblings, hires from the same groups, etc.

Tony didn't like Richland.

Sure, okay, it was a serious step up from Federal Way. He was free from his parents, he could do whatever he wanted in a house all to himself, no one knew who he was - it was a refreshing change, one he definitely needed now that he was graduated, all grown up.

He'd moved back east about two months ago. He'd wanted to get as far away from home as possible, stretch his legs - he went under the guise of missing his grandma, wanting to go to school. He wasn't a terrible liar, either. Howard and Maria'd eaten it up, encouraging him to go as soon as he could.

"If you go now, you could get there in time for summer classes. Maybe even get a job before they stop hiring seasonally. You never know, but you might as well try!"

So here he was. Still jobless, still not yet enrolled in school. Enjoying his time in the (now autumn) sunshine, biding his time before he ran out of money. He'd planned well - he had enough cash to keep him covered for a while, as long as he didn't go blowing it.

He'd blown it.

He was a sucker for good coffee, though, and he missed Outback. He'd worked at one back home for almost a year before he left, and now... now, it was like an itch he couldn't scratch - he needed the interaction, needed to go make friends. He was too much of a social butterfly.

Yet again, he found himself in his truck, on the way to the nearest stand. He was pathetic, really. Here he was, wasting more money on coffee, when he could be out hiking or climbing or... literally doing anything else.

He knew it was worth it the second he pulled in. The cutest kid was running lines that day - shorts hugging his tight ass deliciously, in a way Tony knew his operator would get in trouble for if a Mobster or Coach saw. Christ, they lettin' just anyone work here now, that it?

He had to keep his thoughts to himself, though - the kid had just finished the cars in front of him, and was headed straight for Tony, iPad in hand. He took a breath, putting on his best poker face. He needed a fucking cigarette.

"Hey handsome! Welcome to Outback, what're we drinkin' today?" Shit, he's cute. All bright and cheery - it might be fake, sure, customer service voice and all - but boy, did he play the part well. All big eyes and wide smile. He looked up at Tony expectantly, right hand hovering over the screen of the runner iPad. Shit, he still has to order something.

"Hi, just a small iced white vanilla breve please." Tony watched as the kid pressed a few spaces on the tablet, shocked at how fluidly he moved. Tony'd never seen him at this location before, but he obviously knew what he was doing. Location transfer, maybe? Mobster? He wasn't sure.

"Perfect! I've got you in - anything else, love?" God, he was too much. There's no way this was just the sickly facade Outback enforced - no, this was all him. "Nah, I'm okay. I'm paying card today, too." He reached his hand out for the tablet, wanting to tip this kid specifically.

"Oh, I'm so sorry, this card reader's broken. The one up at the window's working though! My girl Maia'll be up there waiting for you!" He turned with a smile, skipping off to the next car.

Jesus, who was this kid? And what did Tony have to do to see him again?

•|||•

Return an application, apparently.

Maia, the girl at the window, had let him know that they were hiring. He didn't have to feign interest - he had relevant experience, could work his way up if he needed to - and he'd get to see the mystery boy again. She'd ran and grabbed a small stack of papers for him, which he dutifully filled out and brought back a couple of hours later.

The closing shift lead had briefly interviewed him, practically giving him the job on the spot. Apparently she'd met his sister on a Mob trip, before - it paid to have connections, but damn... someone in town already knew who he was. Oh well. Not a big deal. These were still new people, fresh faces - he could make a clean reputation for himself, a fresh start...

It was exactly what he needed. And if he needed to use a bit of his influence with his sister to get it... so be it.

•|||•

"Emma, please, just... don't be a dick when he calls you. I need this job, it'll be good for m-"

"Save it, Tony. I don't want your excuses. If I say I'll do it, will you leave me alone?" She was being unusually short with him. Fuck. She and Rhodey were fighting again.

"Yes, yes, anything. Thank you so much." He was met with a bored sigh.

"Whatever, dude. I'll put in a good word. Talk to you later." She hung up before he could say anything else. Whatever - it wasn't the worst conversation he'd had with his sister, but it left a lot to be desired.

They hadn't been doing well since she & Rhodey got together. It was on-again-off-again... and they were honestly both to blame. Neither one of them was good at commitment, and it showed.

It put strain on both of their relationships with Tony, and didn't do much to help keep him in Federal Way. He sought comfort in the isolation of a new town, but it didn't seem to be helping anything.

Leaving never did, but it was really all he knew how to do.

•|||•

Peter hadn’t been at Outback long, but he’d enjoyed every minute of it.

He’d gotten hired almost immediately after graduation, not wanting to waste a second of his summer not making money. It was a bit of a difficult transition - he wasn’t a big fan of Beck, his boss, and training was really overwhelming. But after he’d hit that twelve week mark... it’s like something just clicked.

He was a whiz on bar, he was making friends right and left. He and Maia’d even gone to get tattoos together a couple weeks ago during a flash sale. He was getting faster and faster at running cars, he knew almost all of his regular customers. He genuinely felt like part of the family.

That didn’t really change when Beck hired a new group, either. There weren’t too many of them, helping keep their group small. They’d been spending a bit of time in the stand here and there, going over the rules, the ins and outs of making coffee, taking their menu test.

The three he was introducing today seemed okay enough. He just barely caught the tail end of Beck's “congrats on becoming a full employee” monologue before the man set the fresh meat loose. Not that they could really go far - it was maybe a good spit's distance from corner to corner. But, if it helped them get their bearings...

He was pulled from his thoughts before they could take off too far. “Hey, Parker! Come say hi to the green beans!”

•|||•

The red haired girl was nice enough. They'd introduced themselves, exchanged snap usernames, gushed over Peter's tattoos, and bonded over the typical new job anxiety. He'd forged a sweet new friendship with Bri, and was hopeful she'd stick around. He'd seen people like her get chewed up and spit out in this industry, and he liked her.

The tall guy... was pretty boring, actually. He stayed on his phone for the majority of the introduction, opting to ignore Peter entirely. It was fine - he'd probably be gone by the end of the month. Not like they’d miss him - he barely passed his menu test, from what Peter’d overheard.

Then came Mr. Short, Dark, and Brooding - Tony, apparently - Peter remembered him from a few weeks ago. He’d given Peter a poorly concealed once-over, tried to take the runner iPad from right out of his hands... if he wasn’t so attractive, Peter’d pin him for a fuckboy.

Despite how much he looked like he’d wanted to back then, when given the opportunity, he didn’t really engage with Peter. He apparently wasn’t the type to keep eye contact, go in for a hug, make small talk. 0 for 2. Disappointing. Oh well. That’s fine - Peter was perfectly content as the only guy at this location (sans Beck, of couse). Too much testosterone didn’t foster a healthy working environment, and they all knew it.

The girls, especially. They all gushed over Peter - apparently being the token gay guy in the stand somehow made him exempt from the targetted harassment. Nearly every guy they’d hired had left within 9 months - coffee was definitely a female-dominated field.

Peter was excited to see how these two fared.

•|||•

The tall guy was gone within a week. Didn’t even leave notice, just up and stopped showing up to his shifts. Not that it was the end of the world - he was still in his probationary period, so he wasn’t even making tips. No sweat off Peter’s back.

Bri did really well, in comparison. Beck was unusually strict with her - lashing out during her initial first shifts, generally being a hardass. It was unnecessary, and everyone knew it - Peter often found himself having fridge or bathroom meetings with her to help calm her down. But she kept showing up, kept trying, and after a few weeks she was doing just as well as Peter and the rest of them.

Tony was even better. Peter’d heard through the grapevine that he’d worked at a different location when he was still in school. Why he had to go through training again was lost on Peter - Beck tended to be thorough when it came to these kinds of things, but Tony was arguably more experienced than some of Peter’s coworkers...

Apparently, it’s because he wasn’t one to play nice.

•|||•

It took them quite a while to work together. Peter’d found himself getting the shit end of the schedule, working 7-1s religiously. It was by far his least favorite shift - dealing with the morning and lunch rushes were nothing, if not exhausting. But he pushed through, and finally got a say in what he worked - a very comfortable 5 - close.

Tony seemed to fill the between-shift gap - 2-8 was his jam. He liked working later, but still getting home before dark. Apparently being a newbie meant drawing the short straw sometimes -

And the short straw just so happened to be barring with the twink from a few weeks ago.

He hadn’t been... avoiding him. Tony just... didn’t like the way he worked. Peter was flighty, always moving. It irked him... he was just so much, it made Tony’s head hurt. If he wasn’t so engaging he might actually piss Tony off - but he knew the kid had nothing but good intentions, and that made it bearable.

It didn’t translate to the bar, though.

It seemed nearly impossible for them to work well together. Tony’d been assigned the milk station for the last three hours of his shift - a long stretch, but nothing he hadn’t done before. Peter was on shots almost the entire time. Poor kid.

Tony’s sympathy ran dry when they actually began working. They were almost always on top of each other - Peter crowding his space and trying to do too much. It grated on Tony’s every nerve, made it difficult to function. Peter didn’t seem to notice at all - or if he did, he didn’t care.

It came to a head when Peter went for the fridge.

It was a pretty well-known rule that the person on shots doesn’t reach for the fridge. Not only was it too far away from their position on machine, it requires them to go behind their bar partner, which is dangerous in a shop this small. Hot liquids, ice, sugar... they can cause spills, burns, falls...

So of course this dumbass goes for the fridge. Opens the door. Grabs a can of cold brew with his bare hands before turning back around.

And running into Tony face first.

This would have been fine if it were literally anything other than a cold brew. This would have been fine if Tony wasn’t holding a fresh drink! But no - the universe lined things up just right, laid out the most well-planned disaster.

As they made contact, Peter’s hands flew up in shock, dropping the very pressurized can. It exploded as it hit the concrete, spraying nitrogen and foam-y coffee all over them. This caused Tony to let go of the drink in his hand, coating both of their lower halves in hot, sticky milk.

It was picturesque, the mess they made.

Tony looked up at Peter in absolute shock. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?! Why were you in the fridge?!”

“I was just trying to help! You were busy, I figured I could-” Tony cut him off before he filled the stand with more hot air. Not in the mood for his bullshit excuses.

“I don’t care how busy you think I am - you ask before doing something outside of your station. Do you understand me?” The look in his eye was one Peter’d never seen before - it probably should have scared him, but frankly, it just made him angrier.

“Who do you think you are to be giving me orders?” He was huffy, he could feel his cheeks burning red. He was an angry crier, and knew he was struggling to control his face.

“My sister’s a Mobster. I think I know what I’m doing.” Oh. That explained it - his experience, his proficiency on bar... why he was such a dick. Peter’d never met a Mobster he liked, and if this guy was related to one... shit just made sense.

•|||•

He spent the remaining few hours of Tony’s shift hiding in the back. They were better off separated, and neither complained. Tony could handle himself up front, and Peter was productive enough. He had chores to do, dishes to finish, the closing list to start... Getting an early start benefitted everyone.

By the time 8 rolled around, the atmosphere in the stand had relaxed. They’d both had a chance to clean up, the girls on window had helped ease the tension with casual conversation. Bri had been running, and Peter spent plenty of time in the back with her, hushed enough to avoid the ears a few feet away.

“I don’t see why he gets to walk all over us. You’ve been here longer, and the attitude isn’t necessary.” She was sitting on the edge of the sink, goldfish making their way to her mouth between words. “You know I don’t like him. I don’t see why you keep trying to be nice.”

Peter sighed. He knew she was right. “I just... I don’t want anyone here to feel left out, or like I did at the beginning. Beck can be mean... I want all of you to feel welcome.” It wasn’t a lie, either - he’d made a point to make everyone feel at home, to make this stand a family. Until Tony showed up, he’d been doing a great job.

“I know buttercup. Just... don’t go bending over backward for someone that won’t even look you in the eye.” With that she hopped down, ready to clock out.

Tony shuffled past them both, excited to do the same. Maia’d taken over the bar for him, alleviating him just before the four minute window was up. He didn’t even excuse himself, just inserting himself in their personal space without concern.

Bri shot Peter a look before she left. Talk to him!

He opted for bravery. He deserved an apology for Tony’s harsh words earlier today, and he was going to get it.

He checked the cameras before walking back, making sure Maia wasn’t gonna wind up swamped if this took longer than necessary. Tony was collecting his things - he had to do this fast.

“Hey, listen.” Tony looked up, unamused. “I know we didn’t exactly have a good shift, and yeah I’m partly to blame for that... but Beck doesn’t really vibe with hostility, and the girls...”

Tony cut him off halfway through. “What, it makes them uncomfortable? They don’t like it when a man takes charge, has a little outburst? Sheesh, y’all really are a mess.” What the fuck?

“Okay, seriously. I tried to be nice. You owe me, and the rest of us, a serious apology for today, or I’m going to Quentin about it. It’s not that hard to say you’re sorry, Tony.” Good job Parker, firm boundaries.

“I’m sorry? Sorry for what, doing my job? Fuck that, man. I’m out of here.” He opened the door and left, skipping past an oncoming car and heading toward his own.

Peter followed him. It was stupid, sure - but he needed to assert himself here. This was his stand, his home - and he was damned if he was going to let some... some asshole trample all over his home like this.

He caught up to Tony quickly, stopping him before he could open the driver’s door. “Why are you such an asshole? The girls are obsessed with you, you clearly have a leg up against everyone else in your group. There’s no reason for you to be acting like this, dude. You’ve been here all of what, a month?”

Tony took a long drag from his cigarette before answering. “I don’t have to explain myself to you. Now be a good little closer, and run inside. Finish your shift.” He exhaled the smoke into Peter’s face, getting into his car and driving away without another word.

What a douchebag.

#sorry i just flat out didn't like this #sfsummerbingo21 #starkerfestivalsevents #starker #peter parker/tony stark #peter parker x tony stark #coffee shop au #.mine #i'm so sorry mads #i know i'm a pain in the ass

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soyouthinkucanwrite · 4 years ago

Text

Chapter 4 – A new day

Synopsys: The name of the series is super random, don't mind me. Reader is a postgraduate student at NYU, made a docuseries on her research, and the show got picked up by Netflix. She goes on a press tour and meets Tom on a ‘chat show’. They get together and she decides to stay for a few days in London with him. This could be an amazing few days or more? It’s been interesting writing how they’ll deal with distance and tight schedules once ‘honeymoon’ is over...

Heads up: my first language is Portuguese, so that might explain some things here - of course, I wrote thinking about myself hahaha

Warnings for the series: mention of illicit drugs, angst caused by distance, smut (next chapters, very explicit), anxiety caused by paparazzi, and rude random people taking photos.

Other than that, this is just my guilty pleasure writing so lots of caring sweet Tom and fluffiness.

Chapter 1 - A new city

Chapter 2 - Show time

Chapter 3 - Unexpected texts

Chapter 4 - A new day

This is 1.8k words (approximately)

A while after overthinking it you closed your eyes and next thing you knew you were opening them at the sound of your alarm clock. Shit. ‘Should’ve sleept more’ was your first thought but then you remembered why you didn’t. You checked your phone. There was one text from “Tom Holland”, you just loved the quotation markes there, they reminded you of the mess it was your first interaction.

Did he really just Google-translated ‘beautiful’? And are you really swooning over that?

You got up from bed smiling like an idiot and went to get ready for the day. You were getting breakfast with David at the hotel so you had to hurry cause the Breakfast show begins at 7. It was supposed to be a bright sunny (and hot) summer day, which you knew was rare in London. But it was still a work commitment, so you decided on pants and maybe you could change before going to wherever you were going with Tom. Tom! Should you reply to him?

Ok. Play it cool. Now, focus on why you’re here in the first place, will you? You wore capri pants, a t-shirt tucked in with a belt and some stylish shoes. It looked cool, you were comfortable and that’s the best we can expect in a situation like this. No one’s expecting you to show up ready for a red carpet or anything like that anyway. You texted David and he was already downstairs getting some food, so you just went to meet him.

“Good morning” You greeted David at the buffet.

“Someone’s in a good mood. Good morning” He was in a good mood too, probably cause you’ll be going home today. Your good mood had nothing to do with that. If you’re honest, that was a reason for ruining your spirit.

“Uh-hum” You agreed.

“So, I was looking and I think I can change our tickets. You know, for earlier.” He told you as you were sitting in a table at the corner and you couldn’t help but look at him like he was saying something absurd. “Ok, you don’t look so happy about it.”

“No, I was just hoping to see the city today. You know, enjoy it a little bit before going back.” As you said that your phone lit up on the table, it was a text from Tom.

“The city. Right” David smirked at you.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” You laughed at him and smiled when you saw the texts.

“Is that ok?” You heard David talking.

“Hum? Sorry?” You were smiling.

“Gosh I can’t with you. I said I might just change my own ticket, would that be ok with you?”

“Oh yeah! Go ahead. I’ll be fine. I have all my flight info.” He looked at you suspiciously.

“Just…please be in New York next week? The meeting is on Friday afternoon”

“What?” You laughed. “Of course I’ll be there. Why wouldn’t I?” He just shook his head and laughed at you.

You finished your breakfast and went back to the room to brush your teeth and get your stuff. 15 minutes later, you were in a cab with David going to the Radio One studios. On the way, you snapped a pic to send him, you know, keep the conversation going.

You rolled your eyes at him but still couldn’t help but agree.

The breakfast show was from 7 to 10 am, but your interview was not until 8 am. So you and David just hang out in the studio in the meantime. “The first hour is mainly for music”, the girl that welcomed you guys explained. Soon after, Greg James walked out to the little reception and greeted you and David. “Hey guys! Thank you for coming! I’m Greg, nice to meet you.” He offered.

“Hi! Thank you for having us! I’m (y/n), this is David.” You replied and gave him a quick hug.

“Hey! How’s it going?” David said and gave him a man’s hug/handshake. Boys.

“So this is basically standard, since it’s a live interview, I like to ask if there’s any topic you want to avoid or something you’d like to talk specially about?” He asked you.

“Oh…I don’t know. No? Just…let’s talk about how great the show is so people want to watch it and we can keep making more” You laughed.

“And it IS great! I’ve seen it, really loved. Congrats!”

“That’s kind of you. Thank you!”

“No problem, so…I guess I’ll just direct it towards the interviews you did, you can tell me some funny stories? Awkward ones preferably.”

“You got it! I’ll give you my worst embarrassment stories, you know, for the good of entertainment” You laughed.

A little while later you were sitting in the studio with Greg on the other side of the table. You told him about the show and some embarrassing stories as well.

“So, what are the plans now? Will we be seeing more seasons of the show? Maybe in other cities, London perhaps?”

“Well, I can’t say”

“Oh come on! Is Netflix the next Marvel on terms of keeping secrets?”

“No, I mean, I don’t know. I literally can’t say because I don’t know what the future looks like for us. It’s been so great to go out and talk about the show, and see how much people liked it but I’m kind of just enjoying while I can.”

“No! Don’t say that! They won’t let you get away like that!”

“I hope not! If they want us, I’m all in! I’d love to make 10 more seasons and in other cities, even! Can you imagine?"

“Now that’s more like it! Let’s make a deal, if Netflix don’t renew with you, BBC will take it!”

“Ok! Sure! Are you in charge of it?”

“No really, but that’s just a technicality” He laughed. “Alright, so we’ll play some music and when we come back we’re going to hear some unpopular opinions! Are you ready for it Ana?”

“Sure, yeah! I love the theme song, let’s do it!”

“Do you really? You listen to the show?”

“Yes! I really do, I’m a fan since when I was learning English! I genuinely love Radio 1”

“No way! Just for that, I’ll let you choose the next song"

When the song died over it was time for the game.

“Hey! If you need a job, you can just come work here with us as international music sommelier, what you think about it?”

“Oh don’t even joke. That’s my dream job, honestly!”

“It’s settled them” The interview was going really well, and it was almost ending. “Alright, so our time is almost over. Shall we hear some unpopular opinions and send you all to the weekend with a pinch of wrath?”

“Yes please! Let’s hear them” The theme song started to play and you sang along. “Come and give us your unpopular opinion, something up to know you’ve been scared to say”

“That was great! And in the first try! You really are a listener!”

“Told you!”

“Ok so, first on the line we have Maya. Hello Maya? What’s your unpopular opinion?”

“Calling people bestie is cringe” The girl on the line said.

“Uh agreed” You said.

“You agree with her?” Greg asked you.

“Yeah. If it’s not ironically, it’s very cringe. Like calling your husband hubby”

“To be fair, most pet names are cringe” Greg offered.

“True, very true. Hey, love is cheesy. Nothing wrong with that. People in love are just not cool, have you ever met a couple that was genuinely cool?”

“No, I have not. Well, I mean…the Beckhams are cool.”

“Uh good one. I stand corrected. But can you imagine Victoria calling Dave ‘hubby’ or the other spice girls ‘bestie’?”

“Definitely not.” You guys laughed together, you were just being silly. “Good one Maya! Alright, next call is Kyle. Hello Kyle?”

“Hi! Flat watered down soda tastes good.”

“What?” You yelped. “Are you ok, Kyle?”

“And that’s why we call this segment ‘unpopular opinions’” Greg laughed. “Do you want to defend yourself there Kyle?”

“Not really, I just prefer it like that.” Kyle said and you and Greg laughed.

“You know what Kyle? You keep doing you. You might want to try some juice or iced tea, though. But you do you man.” You joked and Greg cracked up.

“That was great, I love it!” Greg said. “That will be all for today, don’t forget to check (y/n)'s new show this weekend and spam Netflix about how much we need more seasons!! And bring (y/n) to London Netflix!”

“Oh my god I loved it! Thank you so much for having me, I had the best time!” You thanked him. Music started to play and you took off your headphones. “Thank you, really. I was great!” You said directly to Greg.

“Oh don’t thank me! I really hope we’ll see you more! Come back always to promote the next seasons and projects!” He offered.

You got out of the studio and greeted David. “That was so much fun!” You told him.

“You’re killing it there ! Mission accomplished, finally! Are you coming back to the hotel or are you meeting with ‘the city’ from here?” He asked you using air quotes for ‘the city’ and smirking.

“I’m coming back to the hotel, thank you very much.” You rolled your eyes, but you knew he was just teasing you.

Chapter 5 it's fluffly london date and it was so much fun writing it, can't wait for you to read!

#tom holland #tom holland fic #tom holland x reader #tom holland one shot #tom holland series #tom holland social media au #tom holland fanfiction

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stufftippywrote · 4 years ago

Text

not my type, chapter 5

Read it from the beginning--

"First off," Shitty says, holding Jack by the shoulders, "you're not killing anybody."

"What was he thinking?" Jack hates this feeling, hates when the shakes seem to be reverberating through his blood. It's like every cell in his body is wobbly, like he won't be able to hold himself together. "How can he make all that up?"

Lardo's over at the computer, frowning as she reads the story through. "Actually," she says, "he did kind of a good job."

"What?" Jack takes in a gulp of breath, exhales it out in a whoosh.

"He did okay," Lardo says, turning. "Not too many details, but enough of a story to keep 'em interested. Easy for you to memorize," she adds, meeting Jack's gaze.

"Calm down, brah." Shitty's still got a hand on Jack's shirt. "It's all gonna be okay."

Jack lets them lead him to the sofa and sit him down, but he's still quavering. "He didn't have to say anything," he says. "He didn't have to go to the press."

"Sounds like the press came to him."

"And he couldn't say 'no comment'?" Jack drops his head into his hands. How could they have screwed this up so completely? How could Lardo think this guy was the perfect fake date? He went way overboard from the beginnning, with that stupid kiss hello. Jack should have walked right out. He should have never agreed in the first place. "So stupid," he mutters.

"Look, Jack, blame us if you have to," Shitty says. "We didn't think this cunning plan through. We should have realized it wouldn't be over and done in a single night."

"And I should have realized Bitty would talk," Lardo says. "You met him, you know how he is."

"I've never met him myself," Shitty says, "but yeah, bro, I hear he's that type. We shoulda known."

Jack can't stand to hear his friends blaming themselves. The desire to comfort them breaks through the web of anxiety, and he finds a bit of sanity to cling to. "Right," he says, "okay. Doesn't matter whose fault. What are we going to do now?"

"Well, for one, we should probably talk to him." Lardo has her phone out already.

"And by 'we,' we mean you," Shitty says, slapping a hand on Jack's back.

This very nearly brings the panic back. "W-what should I say? Wait..."

But Lardo's already entered the phone number. When it starts to ring, she thrusts the phone in Jack's direction.

"Lardo, Shits, come on--"

"Hello?" A soft high tenor voice comes from the phone's speaker. "Hello? Is someone there?"

Lardo gives him a look that might as well be a dagger. Jack takes the phone tentatively in one hand.

"Um," he manages, "yes, hello. Eric?"

"Who is this?" Hearing Bitty's voice near his ear stirs something in Jack, a strange vibrating in his chest.

"This is Jack Zimmermann."

Silence on the line.

Jack tries again. "Hello?"

"I... yes, sorry, I'm just surprised." Bitty's tone becomes cheery. "Mr. Zimmermann. What can I do for you?"

What can he do? Jack's flying blind. He's been shanghaied into this conversation. "I saw you talked to some reporters."

A gasp on the line. "Did I actually end up... in the news?"

Sounds like he's as horrified as Jack was. But what did he expect? "Yes."

Bitty gives an audible sigh. "Oh, lord. Well, of course you'd want to ask me about it. I really did my best to not tell them anything. I'm just not so great at keeping my mouth shut, especially not when they're customers in my shop. I hope I haven't inconvenienced you..."

Bitty is still going on, and Jack is still searching for the next words, when Shitty stage-whispers at him, "Invite him over!"

Jack answers him silently with wild, panicked eyes.

"What? You need to talk in person."

It's not Jack's apartment, but he abruptly has a better idea. "Eric," he says, "is your shop still open?"

---

The three of them take the short walk a few blocks down to Bittle's Bakeshop, and although it's evening, the lights are still on inside. When they come in, there's only one table occupied, a couple of kids that look college-age to Jack. Bitty is there, behind the counter, and Jack's heartbeat goes unsteady and weak for a second. He's not sure whether he's infuriated or delighted to see him again.

At the sight of Larissa, Bitty comes out from behind the counter and gives her a hug. Then he turns to Jack to give him a nod and a smile. "Mr. Zimmermann."

Jack looks him over. He's wearing a baker's apron, but it hasn't protected him very well from what looks like it must have been a hurricane of flour. It's smeared all over his shirt, and there's a light dusting over his face as well. Jack's thumb itches to pass over his cheek, just to clean him up.

But along with the flour, there are the bright brown eyes and careless smile Jack remembers, and for just a moment he's back at that gala, dancing with him, wondering idly what it would be like to reach out and touch him. His thumb itches even more. Jack curls his hand into a fist.

"So you know Jack," Lardo is saying, "and this is my boyfriend, Shitty."

Bitty blinks. "I'm sorry. Your boyfriend what now?"

"It's a long story," Shitty says.

A few minutes later, they're all congregated at a round table toward the back of the shop. Bitty has provided everyone with decaf, and once he's finished passing out pastries ("sorry, they are leftovers from today, I would of COURSE have baked some fresh if I knew y'all were coming"), Shitty stands up and raises his mug of coffee. "So! Friends, acquaintances, unfairly good-looking NHL players. We are gathered here today to figure out what we should do about Jack and Bitty's predicament in re: the press. Now that we know that the vultures won't leave these two poor gentlemen alone, we should think of solutions for how to handle the situation."

"You could stage a messy breakup," Lardo says, picking at the strawberry atop her tart. "Big public fight."

The thought makes Jack recoil. He and Bitty say "No" at the same moment, then turn to look at each other.

"It's just," Bitty hastens to explain, "I don't think I'm as good an actor as all that? I'm plenty good at pretending to be close to people, but I don't think I could play mean or angry."

"An unobtrusive breakup, then," Shitty suggests. "When the press comes after you, you just say you're not dating anymore, and when people ask why you just say GIMME PRIVACY YOU FUCKING VULTURES." He pounds the table as he says it, and Jack wonders if this is really decaf they're drinking.

"Will that work, though?" Lardo wonders. "I mean, Bitty's just given this interview where he sounds head over heels."

Bitty clears his throat. "Um... we could also keep pretending."

Jack's gaze flies to him. Why would Bitty suggest that? Isn't he the one who wanted out of this after a night?

"I mean. Just to keep everyone satisfied." For the first time since Jack's met him, Bitty looks a little shy. "Just for a while. Then have a fake breakup."

"How long is a while?" Jack's voice comes out hoarse.

"Until the press loses interest," Shitty fills in. "Problem is, that could last a week, it could be months. They could still be on your doorstep next season asking what you did together over the summer."

Bitty visibly shudders. "I don't know if I can keep pretending for a year."

"Then let's make it a week," Jack says. He turns to Bitty. "If you're willing to do a week. I can get someone from PR on our team in on it, and they can probably help with the details." He pauses. "What do you think?"

He's not sure what kind of answer he wants, what kind he's afraid of. And for a moment Bitty keeps him guessing, surveying him like he's sizing up an opponent before a fight. Finally, he nods. "I suppose that wouldn't be too much trouble, if it's only for a week. What would we have to do?"

"Go on dates," Lardo says.

"Be seen going on dates," Shitty clarifies. "Doesn't matter if you actually go on them."

Jack addresses Shitty and Lardo. "He should probably come to a practice, and then if he doesn't mind meeting the other -- the wives -- he should come to a game."

"Good opportunities for the cameras to catch him," Shitty notes, drumming his fingers on the table. "And you all don't actually have to spend any time together if you don't want to."

"I don't mind." The words tumble out of Jack in a rush, and he blinks, as surprised to hear them as anybody. Bitty is staring at him, those brown eyes wide, and Jack feels a flush creeping up his cheeks as he turns to face him. "I mean. If you don't mind."

Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Shitty and Lardo exchange a look, but he doesn't pay much attention to it.

Bitty seems to have lost his everpresent words. He blinks right back up at Jack, mouth open. God, his eyes are just so wide, like Jack could dive right into them. Is it possible that for just a moment he's considering -- but no, he knows Bitty isn't attracted to him. He'd just be building false hope, thinking of something like this. All he needs is for Bitty to tolerate him. That's as much as he can reasonably ask for.

Shitty quickly rushes in to fill in the silence. "It probably is a smart idea to actually be seen together. Even if it means going on some dates."

Lardo coughs. "Fake dates."

"Right. Fake dates." Shitty reaches across the table and slaps Jack on the shoulder. "There ya go. Just be seen together a couple of times this week and then say adieu. When the press asks what happens, you just say it didn't work out. The end, finito, take a bow."

Bitty finds his voice, as well as a disarming smile. "Well, now," he says, "that's no trouble at all. We can survive a few evenings together without killing each other, right?" He winks at Jack, a movement that makes Jack's heartbeat skip. "I'll just take a couple of days off from the bakery, let Ransom and Holster take care of the place. I've been meaning to take a little break for a while now! Been working day and night between this and the catering." He rolls his shoulders back. "Gosh, this could actually be fun. I've always meant to go to a hockey game!"

Jack finds himself smiling, too. It's hard not to when Bitty's going on like he is. There's something contagious about his cheer, and even Shitty and Lardo seem affected by it. They're both smiling as well.

"I'll talk to Georgia -- that's the PR person from the team -- and we'll make a schedule," Jack says. "And if you need any pocket money for when you're not working, I can take care of that."

"As if!" Bitty turns up his nose. "I may be your escort for the week, but I am not an escort for hire, Mr. Zimmermann."

"You can call me Jack." Again, Jack is surprised to hear his own words.

But Bitty just smiles again. "Well, of course," he says, crossing his arms over his chest like he's in a huff. "We're dating, after all."

Lardo makes a small sound that sounds almost like a squeak. Jack and Bitty both turn to her. "Sorry," she says, covering her mouth.

They finish their coffee and treats, and Bitty walks the three of them to the door. "Well, I suppose you'll be in touch?" he asks, and Jack nods. "I feel like we ought to shake hands on it. Looking forward to working with you, Jack." Bitty holds out a hand.

"I appreciate your doing this," Jack answers. He takes Bitty's hand to shake.

Oh no. That hand in his feels far too perfect. One more time, Jack's taken back to their dancing at the gala. Bitty's hands felt good then too, on his waist and in his palm, and Jack finds himself mourning that they won't be able to end tonight with a kiss as well. Even a fake kiss.

His heart sinks. He actually likes this boy. Wants him, even. And now he'll have to spend a week with him, all the while pretending he cares (for the camera) and also pretending he doesn't.

He also can't wait to get started.

Shit. This could be the most miserable week of his life.

#zimbits #zimbits fic #not my type #fake dating #fake dating au #who likes some pining? i do!#check please #check please fic #omgcp #omgcp fic #stuff tippy wrote

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puckngrind · 4 years ago

Text

What’s In a Name: 1 - J Toews

Summary: Bekah heads to the 2015 All-Star game in Columbus where she meets Jon.

Warnings: mentions of break up, swearing, smut

Word count: 3205

Series masterlist ) Puck ‘n Grind’s masterlist

Numb.

Numb was the word Rebekah finally landed on to describe her state of being. She knew it wasn’t grief. She felt that emotion rip through her soul in waves when thinking of her grandfather who passed away two years prior. This wasn’t that or pain and she knew it.

Her boyfriend of the last four years walked into their shared apartment two days after Christmas in 2014 as she was cleaning up the holiday decorations dancing to the N’Sync Christmas album. He announced he was done with their relationship and moving in with his coworker that night. Rebekah had convinced herself that this man was the one she would marry and spend the rest of her life with. Now the cold, numb feeling she felt said maybe that she willed herself to the feelings of wanting to be married and the thoughts of marriage was not due to the actual love she thought they shared.

“You need to eat Bekah.” Brynn shoved eggs and bacon in front of her face. “And we are going back to your place today to remove the asshole’s presence from it. Got it, Bekah?” Her best friend’s hand landed on Bekah’s in that mom kind of way. To be honest, Brynn was kind of like a second mom. She was older but the two hit it off from the moment they met. Brynn was in accounting and Bekah in marketing at a same firm in Columbus, Ohio. They were work wives if you asked those who interacted with them the most.

“Thanks Rin.” Bekah was the only person to call her a nickname which was a running joke since Brynn’s name was chosen specifically because it did not have nicknames. Of course, Bekah found one and Brynn secretly loved watching her mother flinch when she heard it used.

The two headed over to the Bekah’s apartment after breakfast. “Maybe I should just move? Break the lease?” The realization that she would never feel at home again started settling in as she watched Brynn pack up the pictures from over the fireplace and moved towards bedroom.

“You can come live with us until you find a new place. Derek mentioned it in bed last night.” Brynn and Derek were the cutest married couple Bekah knew. “Plus the team is on a roadie so we can have the house to ourselves to burn things if ya want, drink wine, and of course, eat Jeni’s.”

Derek was a trainer for the Columbus Blue Jackets. He traveled with the team which Brynn sort of loved because she could host nights in when he was out of town but hated that he was gone so much. Bekah knew she hated to be alone but would never admit to it. There was a perk Bekah enjoyed from being friends with Brynn and Derek. She was always the one who went to games with her bestie. While Bekah wouldn’t call herself a die hard fan, she loved the atmosphere of the arena. Hockey was something that amazed her for a multitude of reasons. For starters, the way these giant men skated so gracefully while all 5’7” of herself somewhat athletic self could hardly stand on ice skates. Then they hit pucks and opponents so impressive to watch.

“You just need to get back out there.” Brynn handed Bekah a glass of wine while settling into the couch to watch the last game of 2014.

“I don’t know Rin. I kinda think I need to be alone for awhile. Find myself or whatever.” Bekah sipped her wine and took in the game.

“I’m sure Derek could introduce you to one of the single guys on the team.” Brynn nods to the television. “No strings attached there. You know most of them go home for the summer.” Brynn giggled as she watched her best friend’s face contort.

“Holy shit Brynn! No. NO! Talk about awkward. And they are either married or way young, right?” Bekah barked out.

“Well the ones I’m thinking of are all 21 or older...and maybe you just need to get under someone new, that’s all I’m saying.”

“And a pro hockey player is your solution? Like they would even give me the time of day.” Bekah pulled at her french braid then shoved her empty hand deep into her hoodie attempting hide her insecurities. “I’ve been single for what, five days, friend. I don’t need anyone new right now.”

“Well you should see the way some of the boys look at you. Boone comes to mind.” The gasp out of Bekah’s mouth was enough for Brynn. “When you are ready, just let me know.” She eyed her best friend then dropped the topic for now.

January brought a new chapter. Bekah found a place she loved and swore off men for the near future.

“You are coming to the All Star things with me. Derek already got you an all access pass so you cannot say no. He only gets two.” Brynn announced the week before the All-Star break. She tried to convince Bekah to go with them on vacation but Bekah was already feeling like the third wheel in the few weeks since the breakup and said no.

“That sounds fun.” Brynn’s mouth dropped open when Bekah didn’t fight the announcement.

The city was buzzing and finally felt like a hockey town. Bekah picked Brynn up and the two fluttered around the arena district before taking in the activities on the concourse then headed below to go see Derek. The amount of people in the tunnels was crazy but soon the two found Derek. Bekah pointed to a place to meet and wandered off while the couple spoke.

“So are you related to a Jackets player?” A deep voice boomed above Bekah’s head.

“Huh?” Bekah turns and looks up at the tall, handsome man decked out in All-Star gear. She noticed a 19 on his sweatshirt meaning he was a player.

“Your shirt makes me think you are a Columbus fan and since you are down here...I’m assuming you are a relative. Am I wrong?” His serious face cracks into a slight smile.

“Oh! I’m friends with the trainer.” Bekah replies finally pointing into the sea of people.

“Nice. I’m Jon. And you are?” Jon places his hand out to shake Bekah’s hand. She places her hand in his.

“Rebekah. Bekah to most. Nice to meet you.”‘ she looks up into his dark brown eyes. “So, which team do you play for?” She moves her hand out of his and flicks her finger up towards the number.

“Blackhawks.” Their conversation quickly turning into Chicago and how each enjoyed the city. “Well, Beks, I have to go. Can I find you later?” Jon winks while touching her forearm slightly and she nods feeling her cheeks turning pink before he walks off towards the locker room.

“Oh. My...GIRL!” Bekah hears Brynn almost at squeal level as she turns around. “You were just talking to Jonathan...eekkkk!” Brynn does a little dance and her words become incomprehensible.

“He’s nice.” Bekah smiles looking around to see if he’s in view.

“And single!” Brynn coos.

“Don’t Rin.” She gives Brynn a death glare and that just stop look.

“I’m not...just stating a fact. Let’s go find our seats.” Brynn grabs Bekah’s hand and leads her back up to their glass seats.

The skills competition went on and Bekah noticed every chance Jon got he skated towards where she was sitting. He’d wink or nod and then skated back. Just a little “Hey, I see you” before returning to his captain duties.

“I’m not saying anything but I see you two.” Brynn leans into her best friend. Bekah can feel the heat in her cheeks spreading and with his next stop in front of her she tightened her thighs together trying to will away the way he made her entire body tingle in just how he looked over at her. “Let’s head down before the crowd gets up!” Brynn announced at the last commercial break. The two got up and headed down to meet up with Derek.

“So is there a good place to get a drink around here besides my hotel’s bar?” Jonathan leans down into Bekah’s ear making her heart skip a beat and her body jump. “Sorry, did I startle you?” Brynn’s glowing recommendation of him as well as the way he spoke to her caused Bekah to say yes to drinks at a bar around the corner.

Drinks led to standing outside his hotel room. “Jon.” Bekah grabbed his wrist with a confidence she didn’t think she possessed. His gaze moved from the door to her hazel green eyes. “What are you expecting when we go through that door?” His lips pressed together then curled into a smirk.

“No expectations. Promise. Just come in.” He easily broke her grip and wrapped his hand in hers leading them through the door. Bekah wasn’t sure she knew hotel rooms this large even existed in Columbus and she takes in the space and including the large window where she can see the city lights dancing off the Scioto River.

“I’m pretty sure this is larger than my apartment.” She finally slinks out of her jacket and looks over to where Jon has disappeared in the bedroom.

“You live alone?” He comes out pulling on a t-shirt and Bekah catches the gasp is her throat with the glimpse of his abs.

“Uh, yeah. Fuck. Yes. Sorry. Recently dumped.” She fiddles with her hair and looks for the closest chair before her legs give out.

“I’d say I’m sorry about the break up but I’m not.” Jon places his arms on either side of the chair Bekah just sat in flexing while leaning in. “His loss...my gain.” He presses his lips on her forehead before retreating to the couch across the sitting room. “So what do you do for a living?”

“Marketing. I’d ask you but...” Bekah giggles feeling herself relax while looking up at Jon’s serious face. “I do have some questions about your job.”

“Open book.” Jon opens his hands to a motion her to continue.

“How long have you played in the NHL? Same team? Like your captain?” The line of questions made Jon crack a smile.

“Started in 2007. Always with the Blackhawks. And his nickname is Captain Serious.” Jon pulls his lips together like he does in interviews and looks over at the gorgeous woman who seems to be processing the information.

“Captain Serious huh? Sounds fun.” Bekah crosses her legs cursing her body for the feelings pulsing throughout. “How often are you in Columbus?”

“Once a season. We only play them twice. Played them in December and then they play in Chicago in March I think.”

“Nice. Well, I think I’ve sobered up enough and you have an All-Star game tomorrow.” Bekah abruptly states and starts for the door. Jon quickly catches her hips and stops her dead in her tracks.

“What just happened there? We were talking and then your shoulders wiggled and you announced you are suddenly leaving.” Jon holds Bekah firm in his grasp. His gaze moves from her soft dark golden brown locks framing her face to her eyes which told him her actions and her desire were fighting. Lightly pushing Bekah’s loose hair behind her ear he looks deep in her eyes. She blinks trying to stay focused on her thoughts that she was leaving.

“I don’t know. My heart tells me one thing and my body is telling me another. And my mind says I should kill Rin for even taking me tonight.” Bekah looks down and notices how close their bodies are.

“Who’s Rin?” Jon pulls her body even closer.

“My best friend. Redhead I was sitting with. Her husband is the trainer, Derek.” Bekah breathes out.

“So that’s who I have to thank?” Jon runs his fingers over Bekah’s arm and across her collarbone pulling her chin up to look back at him. “I won’t make you stay but I also don’t want you to leave. No expectations is true. We also can do whatever here tonight and then you don’t have to see me again if you don’t want to.”

“One night stands aren’t my thing...well...actually I’ve never had one before but I’m assuming they aren’t.” Bekah’s admission makes Jon laugh which she feels throughout her entire body.

“Well, it doesn’t have to be a one night thing...and I’m not a one night stand person either Beks. Can I kiss you and start from there?” Jon’s thumb runs across her cheek and he feels the twitch pulsating from his briefs.

“Yes.” Bekah hardly spoke before Jon’s lips were on her’s and she deepens it as she stepped into him placing her hands in his chest clutching at his shirt. His hands coming up and holding the small of her back and the cradling her neck. She felt him growing between their bodies. Breaking for air Bekah huffs out, “How do I turn you on?” The admission was self doubt about how average looking she felt and how damn sexy he was.

“Beks, you are fucking gorgeous!” Jon kisses her again and she shakes him off. “No really. Distracting as hell when I was trying to be a captain of the team tonight. Please tell me you aren’t sitting that close tomorrow. My team needs to win this thing.”

“You think I’m gorgeous?” Bekah fumbles on the words before Jon’s lips were on her again.

“Yes, and I’d like to show you how gorgeous you are if you just stay.” He starts shuffling their attached bodies towards the bedroom.

“I’m not doing the walk to shame tomorrow.” She starts moving her feet with his.

“You can borrow sweats so I’m guaranteed to see you again.” With that Jon placed her body on the bed. “Now can we get rid of some of these clothes?” His finger tips run along the inside of the hem of her sweatshirt. The slight nod she gave him was enough for him to discard both of their shirts. He made his way down to his knees pulling her jeans off slowly leaving Bekah in her light blue matching bra and panties. The sight made him jump into action. “Fuck you are even more beautiful.” She bats her eyelashes at the compliment.

“You are very...very....fit.” She runs her hands down his abs and he chuckles. “Handsome. Well both. Damnit I’m bad at this. I’m sorry.”

“You aren’t and don’t be.” Jon pulls her leg up and kisses down to her knee pulling his sweats off with the other hand. Her eyes widen when she sees how stained his boxer briefs are. “See. Definitely doing something right.” He nips at the meaty part of her thigh and she flops her body on the bed. “Does that mean I can continue Beks?”

“Yes.” She places her hands over her face as Jon’s fingers pull at her panties moving them down her legs exposing her core to him. He kisses back up and lands on her clit. Bekah moans out of the relief and Jon laughs while moving his tongue to elicit more noises out of her. His fingers slide in and curl causing Bekah’s hand to fly up into his hair.

“Tell me if you don’t like something, m’kay?” He pulls up to move her legs onto his shoulders and her body further into him.

“It feels amazing. It’s just been awhile.” She admits as he continues his pumping in and out while scissoring his fingers to stretch her out.

“We’ll go as slow as you want. Promise.” He kisses her clit again and sucks causing an orgasm to rip through Bekah’s body. She moans out his name and he moves away.

“Don’t stop. Fuck. Don’t stop.” She lifts up to look down at him. Face glistening and a look of accomplishment from how quickly he was able to make her come unglued.

“So maybe not that slow.” Jon returns to licking through her folds and is stopped by Bekah’s hand tightening in his hair.

“Can you...I don’t know how to...never mind.”

“No, talk to me. Sex is better when you talk. Where to you want me?”

“Inside of me. I want you up here.” Bekah feels the heat returning to her face as she made her request. “Unless you want me to...” she eyed his briefs again as Jon stands.

“No, I definitely want to fuck you now.” He climbs onto the bed and pushes both of their bodies up the bed freeing himself of the last piece of clothing. “May I?” He pulls at the strap of her bra and Bekah arches her back to allow him to pull it off with easy. Kissing her breasts and then her lips Jon grunts. “Ready?” He leans up as she nods for him to inch into her core. Bekah’s back arches as Jon lowers himself inside. She would never admit to anyone how long it’s been since she’s had sex and it felt so good to have his weight on top of her. Bekah wraps her legs around him and Jon finds a rhythm that makes both of them moan with each thrust. Then it happened. Both reaching their highs in unison. A slew of swears mixed with praises drop out of Jon’s lips then he collapses on top of Bekah.

“Wow. How did that happen?” Bekah huffs out while her fingers run across Jon’s sweaty shoulders and across his lips.

“How did what happen?” Jon’s chest moves in and out trying to even his breathing.

“We...together...” she breathes out.

“You’ve never climaxed with someone? Together?” Jon pulls up and takes in Bekah’s blissed out yet confused look.

“I’m just gonna shut up now.” Bekah’s hand flies over her eyes.

“No. Remember, sex is better when you talk. And we aren’t done.” Jon moves her hand and flexes his abdomen sending shock waves through Bekah’s body.

“So, no.” Bekah whispers. “I’ve never orgasmed at the same time as my partner. That was amazing feeling. You are amazing.”

“You are too. Trust me. Fucking amazing.” His lips ghost her skin as he rolls off of her. “Beks, so good.”

“You are the only person who has ever called me that which is funny.” She kisses the top of his head as he rests on her chest.

“Yeah. Why is it funny?” His fingers walk down her hip.

“Because I do the same thing. Make up nicknames for people.” He laughs at her admission. “Rin for example is Brynn. I’m the only person who calls her Rin. Not even her husband calls her anything besides pet names and Brynn.” Jon feels Bekah’s body relax and he smiles.

“And do I get a nickname then?” He kisses her stomach.

“Maybe. It’s more of an organic thing. With time.”

“More time. I see. Then can you come back here tomorrow too? After the game?” He looks up at Bekah.

“Yeah I guess that would make this not a one night stand, huh?” Bekah’s lips turn up and Jon laughs loudly.

“Yeah.” He rolls her over on top of him. “Definitely not one at all.”

#what’s in a name fic #WIAN #tazer me 19 #j toews fic #jonathan toews fic #jonathan toews

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trashfor-imagines · 5 years ago

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The Music Series: Haikyū Edition! | 2

21 ft. Oikawa x Reader

Summary: You were always on and off with Oikawa in high school, but it was clear you were in love. However, it was hard knowing you would barely make the top three in his life. Warnings: None, really. A seasoning of angst, for taste. Spoilers: If you’re only caught up on the anime, this story mentions what happens to the characters in the manga after high school and their professional lives.

“Toru! There’s a difference between putting volleyball first and just not calling me to say you needed to cancel our date. You straight up didn’t show!” you yelled, tears welling in your eyes. You willed them not to fall. “I know I’m not your number one priority, no one is, but for once can you at least act like you mean it when you say I’m - a - priority?”

He stood there silently in the living room of his apartment feeling small and terrible. He left you waiting in the rain for a date that he wasn’t going to show up to. Again. The coach had extended practice and it didn’t cross his mind to tell you, simply excited to play more. This was the same old fight since high school and he knew he should have known better by now. He had always made volleyball a priority and you honestly didn’t mind - he knew that, but being young and dumb and incapable of communication, he’d always tell everyone you broke up with him because you thought he was obsessed with the sport and not because he was incapable of thinking of others’ needs. Iwaizumi had always told him he was a fool when it came to you and honestly he wished his best friend was there to remind him of what to do to fix this.

“You’ve had so many chances. You don’t respect me and I can’t do this. Call me when you figure out how to dial my number. Or don’t. You probably won’t.”

You slammed the door shut and it absolutely destroyed you to go home alone that night.

“‘Hit it until it breaks.’ Huh. Just like your relationship,” Takeru snickered at you as he looked at an old sports magazine in the dessert cafe you were at. He found an old interview of Toru in it. “My uncle’s an idiot. I’m sure he’ll call you soon, big sis.”

It’d been two weeks since you broke up with Toru and you’ve heard nothing. Not even a blip on social media. Feeling bad about yourself, combined with the fact it was summer break, you went home to Miyagi for some R&R. You had a few things for Toru’s mom that you’d been collecting so you stopped by to drop it off. Takeru just happened to be staying there for the week and asked if you’d take him out to do something. Now you were sitting at a cafe having kakigori and honestly his company was incredible, despite being almost 11 years younger than you.

“I can’t believe my only friend right now is Toru’s 9 year old nephew,” you sighed softly. Your college friends were busy with their jobs, internships, and extra curricular activities that they hardly had time to sit on a phone call let alone come over to watch you cry over Oikawa Toru for the hundredth time. You weren’t even going to try calling Iwaizumi about it. Last time you asked his childhood best friend to knock some sense into the man, he simply replied back with an upside down smiley face emoji. What the hell did that even mean?

Takeru’s cheeks puffed up and he crossed his arms over his chest. “Hey! I’m almost 10! And I can leave if you’re going to be like that. I swear, you’re just as bad as uncle.”

“Hey. No swearing of anything,” you reprimanded him. “And don’t go.”

“Fine, but only because I like you.”

“So... got a girlfriend yet?” you teased, changing the topic.

“Big sis, I know we Oikawas are good looking, but aren’t you a little old for me?” he deadpanned.

Your face lit up red. “You little brat! I wasn’t asking for me!”

School was starting up next week so you went back after a couple of days home. The Oikawa family actually cried when you told them you were going back, having missed seeing you almost every day like when you were in high school. They were an incredible family with their own quirks who loved each other so much. It was similar to your own.

It was Sunday afternoon and you were cleaning your apartment when you got a phone call from Toru’s mom, asking if you’d talked to her son today.

“No, I’m afraid we still haven’t spoken. Is something wrong? Do I need to get to him?” you asked, panic levels rising in your voice.

“No, no, my sweet daughter. Nothing like that,” she sighed softly. “He should really be the one to tell you this, but Takeru said not a chance. He was drafted as a setter for Club Atlético San Juan today. My son’s going to Argentina.”

You dropped your phone in shock, the noise of it clattering to the floor interrupting your short meltdown. Quickly picking up the phone, you apologized before asking questions. “When is he going? W-what about school? And you and the family?”

‘And me?’ you wanted to ask.

Carefully, you listened to every detail she could give you. Your heart was so heavy you were sure you’d sink to the bottom of the ocean.

Time passed painfully. Days turned to months. Soon it was a new year. Then it was graduation. You started a job as a graphic designer that allowed you to work remotely and you did freelance photography, often shooting for travel magazines. You moved home to Miyagi to live with your parents when you weren’t traveling, cutting out unnecessary expenses. It wasn’t smart to have your own place when you weren’t going to use it for 3/4 of the year. The truth was, life was lonely without Toru around. Sometimes you found your vision blurring with tears whenever your phone pinged as a new article featuring the setter was published, or when you let your mind wander to old memories.

You were in Australia when June came around. Life had been pretty exciting for you since April, picking up a photo journalism job for National Geographic touring Southeast Asia and Australia. You’d briefly gotten away from thoughts of Toru when you received a photo late one night from Iwaizumi of Toru and that cute little tangerine from Karasuno on the beach by a volleyball net. Apparently they ran into each other in Rio

(Y/N): Thanks Iwa. Iwaizumi: Np.

After Australia, you went home for a few weeks before you were on a flight to Bolivia to capture the Uyuni Salt Flat. It didn’t take too long to complete the job and you found yourself sitting in your hotel room and scrolling through Toru’s social media. Selfies on him throwing up peace signs, his teammates, sunsets, food, nothing out of the ordinary filled his feed. You didn’t scroll for long though; photos of the two of you would start appearing.

A notification pinged on your phone and your brows furrowed. It was his birthday tomorrow. Setting down your phone, you packed your bag. You were going home in a few hours.

While waiting for your flight, you wondered if that notification was a sign to call him. You stared at his number, unsure. Was it even his number still? You probably locked and unlocked your phone thirty times before setting it to airplane mode. It was time to board. The almost the entire flight home was sleepless as the need to call him grew and grew.

By the time you made it to Japan with over a day and a half of flying due to inconveniently timed layovers, his birthday was over. You wanted to look at his Instastory to see what he did. It was his 21st birthday. He’d been excited for that one because it meant he could “drink anywhere in the world.”

When you got home you unpacked and went about your day. It was midnight when you went to the rooftop terrace of your parents’ house and sat on one of the couches. You called stared at Toru’s contact photo for thirty minutes before you called, pressing the phone to your ear and waiting.

“(Y/N)?” You bit your lip, words suddenly leaving you. “(Y/N), are you there?”

“Yes! Yes, I’m here. Happy birthday, Toru. Sorry I’m a day late.”

“That’s okay, and thank you. It’s good to hear your voice.” His sounded sweet and gentle. There was a hint of a sleep as well, making you laugh quietly. Definitely partied. Definitely just woke up.

“It’s good to hear yours as well. So how was it? Turning 21.” You pinched your thigh out of nervousness.

“It was nice. My teammates took me out to a club. Definitely drank too much and stayed up later than I should have. Iwa would have been pissed.” There was a playfulness in his tone.

“Wow, wish I had been there.”

“Me too, (Y/N). I’m sure you would have done something cooler though. You’re really good at that stuff.”

You laughed lightly, “Well, you know me. I definitely already had a plan for your 21st when you turned 20.”

He laughed as well, boyish and familiar. “Really? What was your plan then?”

“I’d have thrown you a surprise party; invited Iwaizumi and your old teammates, our friends from college. The theme would have been Around the World. I would have set up a photo booth. We’d have drinks from different countries to try, play different drinking games, and dress like tourists.” Your vision began to blur and your voice wavered. “We’d stay up so late that-” You stopped mid sentence, covering your mouth with your hand as you tried to swallow your sobs.

“(Y/N)? Are you okay?” He sounded so concerned it killed you.

Sniffling, you wiped at your eyes furiously. “No. I miss you so much.”

“I miss you too. My whole family’s been on me since we... You know. They call me all the time to tell me what you’re up to and where you’re going next. They really love your postcards and little souvenirs. Seriously... Thanks for looking over them.”

“Of course. I mean, your mom calls me daughter,” you laughed sadly.

“Yeah, she does, doesn’t she.” He paused and the conversation lulled for a moment. Clearing his throat, he spoke up again, “I’ll be home next week if you’re in Miyagi. It’s just a quick visit.”

“I’ll be here.”

“Great. I’ll see you then.”

“Okay.” You had so much more you wanted to say, but you wished him good night instead.

“Good night.”

Days passed and you wondered when he’d be home. You hadn’t heard from him since that phone call and you weren’t going to bother the Oikawas over this. His original plan was probably to come home and see his family. You only became a part of it because you called him. You had to be patient. If you fit into his plans, then you fit into them. You couldn’t force it.

It was Saturday morning when the doorbell rang. You were still in your pajamas when you answered the door, speechless to see Toru standing there with your favorite flowers in his hand. He smiled wide. “Let’s go out, (Y/N).”

Letting him in, you told him to make himself at home while you got ready. It didn’t take you long as you put together a cute new outfit you’d gotten the other day in town. Applying light make up, you checked your hair before heading downstairs.

The two of you walked into town, going to a cafe that you both often frequented throughout high school. He ordered your usual and it was a small crumb of relief to know that he still remembered something as trivial as a drink order. The two of you sat quietly, hands cradling cups, observing each other and taking your appearances. You'd both evolved in over a year. Toru had always been capable of being serious if need be, but his default settings were usually stuck at high school drama queen levels. He was definitely more mature and he’d always been attractive, but he oozed sex appeal right now and you wondered if it was because you were already biased towards him. No, you knew what it was. He had more confidence.

“I guess I should explain what happened. I called Iwaizumi that night after you left. He was pissed it was so late. He called me an idiot, told me stop wasting your time and grow up. I hadn’t told you about it, but I was struggling with a few things. Remember Jose Blanco?”

You nodded, sipping from your cup. He and Toru connected in high school when Toru wasn’t sure about what to do with volleyball anymore. He’d helped so much and was a great mentor.

“I was talking to him about a few things that were on my mind. Then you and I broke up. He ended up talking to some people and I got a call that I was going to play for San Juan. I got swept up with interviews and press statements and moving. The next thing I knew, I was half way across the world with no idea how to tell you I was starting my overseas career earlier than planned. I decided it was best I didn’t call you. I mean, we broke up because I didn’t know how to include you in my life the way you deserve.”

Sliding your hand across the table, you let your finger tips brush against his hand. Instantly he held your hand, running his thumb over your knuckles lovingly. Tears welled in your eyes. You’d waited for so long for Toru to finally see you completely and acknowledge what it was that he spent so many years of your youth apologizing for.

“Not having you there with me this past year was so hard. It felt like not breathing. I still love you, (Y/N), and if you can forgive me, I’d really like to make it work this time.”

Nodding your head, you sniffed, a teary but happy smile on you face as you wiped the corners of your eyes. “I love you, Toru. Let’s make it work.”

tag list: @hihiq

#oikawa toru #oikawa x reader #oikawa tooru #haikyuu!!#haikyū!!#haikyu #volleyboys #the music series #fanfic #reader insert #one shot #imagine #21

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zankivich · 5 years ago

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The Arrangement: CEO’s Son/Dom!Shawn x Black Sub Reader Chapter 8

a/n: I hope you didn’t think I’d make it quite so easy. A little pull and tug is worth it sometimes ya know? idk how much longer I’ll be around. Most people don’t engage with the fics anymore and Shawn isn’t really the Shawn I fell in love with anymore. Life just kind of sucks at the moment. But I’ve got this chapter already written so I thought I’d post it. If you liked it and actually want it to continue? I might recommend letting me know tbh. Bye.

Shawn’s point of view

The problem with taking a woman to Rome on the first date is that anything after that just seems silly. What exactly was he to do now? Invite her over to his apartment for sushi? Even he would walk out on that date! It didn’t help that the second they got back to New York, after a very long winded kiss goodbye, that she’d jumped right into preparation for the VMAs. That essentially meant he wasn’t going to see her for days, maybe weeks. VMA season sparked award season in general for the music industry. It might not exactly give an indication of Grammys, but with the award show always arriving right as the ellibility period for the more prestigious honor was ending, it meant that the VMAS was the beginning of the long haul to get your artist at the top of the charts and fucking keep them there. Which also meant that just like she was busy, so was he. The difference was she actually liked her job. And he had...oh how he hated his.

He’s sitting in a marketing meeting for Sarah Leone. Sarah Leone is his dad’s bid for best new artist of the year. Forget the fact that y/n had her secret weapon of Normani and Khalid on one management team, and that he sort of had a feeling she was going to do a solo album release directly before the grammy consideration deadline just to keep the industry on its toes, his dad was thoroughly convinced Sarah was his ticket. And in a lot of ways she was. Small town girl turned mega popstar in a little over a year, her debut album was set to make beautiful numbers. Unfortunately that wasn’t enough. His dad had a very direct line of vision and that vision was complete and total domination. So it wasn’t enough to have your music sell, he wanted his artists to be inescapable from the public eye. Enter this season’s publicity stunt: The MC.

His dad thought it was a clever way to reference Miley Cyrus. Back in the day he’d orchestrated Miley’s dating of a 20 year old when she was 16 to address her rebellious teen phase. What most people saw as a kid going off the rails, was actually a perfectly manipulated moment in pop history. Except the dick cake that lost her the walmart branding deal, that was all her unfortunately.

Sarah was supposed to be seen out and about with mysterious new “it” british singer, Ty Summers. He was 21. She turned 18 just months prior. The two had begun with a close knit friendship, and were now being guided through the early stage of good, whole-hearted, perfectly constructed, “love”. He peers down at one of the new stills for her headline of V magazine, and simply can’t believe she’s 18. The cover makes him uncomfortable, makes him feel icky. No one at the table notices. And his dad isn’t even there, because this is too low level for the kind of work he does anymore.

“Next, I want her in London for the UK press tour. We’ll have her position at Summers’ hotel for half of her stay. I want pap shots at dinner every night out of the week, and I want a prompt at the BBC interview to hint at their connection. We’ll take it from there.” Jaret, one of the senior managers rattled off. “Any questions?”

He twirled boredly in his chair far from interested in the inner workings of career management if none of it meant jack shit about what the artist actually wanted for their career. It felt like such a waste of his time.

“Quick question?” He sighed popping his pen slightly into the air.

“Yes, Mendes?”

“When does she sing?” He shrugged.

The room goes still. It’s a well known fact that Jaret runs the room. He runs the meetings, runs the decisions. He’s top dog on this particular client, and Shawn is merely there under his father’s orders as an informant and nothing more. He was there to make sure things ran smoothly, but he certainly wasn’t there to offer critique. Woops.

“And what exactly does that mean?” Jaret challenged.

Shawn simply shrugged. “Just seems like if we have a musical artist who we signed on the basis of her being able to sing, that we might at some point want that to be the focal point of her career. But you know, I could be wrong.”

“There’s just one thing wrong here Shawn...we did not sign anyone. I did. We don’t make decisions on the intricacies of her career. I do. You are simply a glorified intern. Nothing more, nothing less. And if you’re father wasn’t afraid you’d run off every two seconds I wouldn’t have to babysit your ass right now. So, why don’t you let the professionals determine next steps and play on the computer daddy bought you, or whatever it is you do?”

Ouch.

The room shifted from Jaret back to Shawn. No one went against Jaret. And yet Shawn was perhaps the most unpredictable thing about his father’s company at that point. Needless to say unpredictably was a hell of a thing.

“It must really upset you that I get paid more than you do doesn’t it?” He hummed.

Jaret’s face began to redden, his nerves tighter than his balls that Shawn had such a precarious grip on at the moment.

“Or does it upset you more that I could do your job better than you right now, today, without even the ability to hear the tonedeaf artists you sign that are just pretty enough and just old enough not to get your ass arrested?” He tilted his head in contemplation. “Perhaps it’s even that one time at the company Christmas party where your wife caught you screwing your secretary in your office and stopped crying long enough for me to make her cum before signing the divorce papers? But you’re right Jaret, I simply should just get back to daddy’s computer. My bad.”

“You little son of--”

“Big.” Shawn interrupted sliding smoothly from his chair and packing his shit up from the horrible meeting he’d had no interest in attending in the first place. “I’m big son of a bitch, Jaret. Just ask Sarah.”

Sarah of course being his wife. Ex wife of course. Ex wife number three if we’re being specific.

The door shuts close behind him to Jaret screaming and lurching across the table towards his empty chair. He’d probably hear about it from his dad later. But honestly who cared. Jaret was a creepy asshole, and he was always gonna be a creepy asshole. Sorry not sorry.

***

He’d be a little embarrassed at how aggressively he yanked at the door were it not for the hopeful look in her big brown eyes when he sees her for the first time. He can tell she’s had a long day because her hair is down out of its bun already, tiny spirals falling all around her face and cheeks. But, the way she falls into his arms is enough to make his whole entire day. Because it means that after all the shit she’d been through that day, she wanted to be with him. And that’s the only thing he cared about in the whole world.

“I missed you.” He sighed already capturing her lips in a kiss.

She hummed softly against him, fingers squeezing at his shoulders.

“Missed you too.”

He pushed the door shut with his foot, arms keeping her tucked tightly against him. He’s sure he’s smiling like a complete and total idiot but he can’t help it. It’s this new exciting thing where he no longer has to be afraid of how close he is to her, no longer has to hope he doesn’t stare too long. She knows. And not only does she know, but somehow she feels the same way. It felt like a dream.

He tugged her back towards his kitchen and helped her into a seat before he pulled out the leftovers from his own dinner where he “accidently” ordered for two.

“Tiana said you didn’t eat dinner.” He shrugged at her questioning gaze. “And this little italian place up the block always gives me more than I need.”

She bit her lip and peered from the container of chicken parm to him and back to the parm. He thought for a second she just might fight him on it. And then he remembered how much she liked to eat.

“You and Tiana conspiring against me must stop!” She snorted grabbing the fork clean from his hand to dig in.

He leaned against the granite counter with his chin propped on his hand. She was wonderful. And silly. And a little ridiculous. He kind of loved it.

“Yes, because making sure you consume more than coffee in a twelve hour period is definitely a conspiracy.”

She rolled her eyes. “Maybe so.”

“Maybe so.” He mimicked. “I missed the way you argue with me about everything. Feel like I haven’t seen you in weeks.”

Her eyes got wide and bright and she turned a grin towards him that he practically ached to lick off. She was gorgeous.

“You missed me huh? The Shawn Mendes has fallen head first into a little monogamy moment has he?”

Sometimes he liked to think that her favorite past time was taking the piss out of him. It sure seemed that way.

He rolled his eyes back at her and butted his head softly into her neck.

“And what if I have?” He whispered softly. “You have too. Right?”

His nose skimmed along her neck and she shivered. He smiled against her skin. She’d fallen just as hard alright.

“Yea I guess so.” She mumbled.

He pulled back and pressed a kiss to her cheek before grabbing her glass to refill with water.

“You should eat up. You’re gonna need your strength.”

“Excuse me?”

He refilled her glass from the refrigerator and placed in front of her before leaning against the countertop again.

“Oh. I just meant that I plan to fuck you until the birds sing. I don’t want you getting tired on me before I’m done with you.”

His favorite past time was saying the wildest things he could come up with to her in the simplest voice possible and then watching the way it made her eyes bulge in her sockets. God he loved it.

This time she simply stuffed a breadstick in her mouth and hopped out of her seat to start taking her jacket off. It seemed she might be just as needy as he was.

“Yep! Okay. You can come get it now!”

“I’m comin’, baby.” He grinned lifting her up into his arms.

“Goddammit. Carbs and dick. It’s like my birthday or something!”

His bedroom is way too far away. They’ve gotta figure out a way to get there quicker. But he chuckles into her cleavage as he knocks them against walls to stop and kiss her. Her thighs mold to his waist, ass full in his hands. He’s stuck on her completely. And the worst part is that she knows it.

He lets her legs back down to the floor only to press her against the wall of his bedroom, lips, teeth, and tongue beginning a trail along her neck.

“You make me never wanna go back to go work ever again.” She whined, fingers tangling in his hair.

“I’d happily quit if we could stay in bed for the rest of forever.” He murmured.

“Don’t tempt me!”

Maybe he would.

“Mmmm speaking of work, how hard you gonna make my job for me this fall?” He hummed biting down on her lip to solicit a yelp that drove him crazy.

“What do you mean?” She asked, fingers already tugging at his belt.

“I’m supposed to believe Normani’s not releasing an album before awards season?”

Her fingers came to a stuttering stop, and he recognized that her kisses weren’t really kisses anymore. His eyes opened to meet hers and instead of the lust from just moments prior, there was...anger?

“What the fuck, Shawn?”

“W--What? What?” He mumbled reaching for her as she quickly stepped out of his arms.

“Why would you ask me that? Since when the hell do you care when my artists release music?”

He’s a little flustered and his dick is hard and her yelling at him when his dick is hard is only just adding to the complex array of emotions that his brain would surely need more blood to process.

“I--I don’t know! I thought that’s what couples did right? Like they--they ask each other about work and shit. What did I do?”

“Couples?” She paused, all of the steam leaving her like a deflated balloon. “Are we--we’re a couple?”

At this point he’s pretty sure she’s gonna give him a heart attack.

“I….Aren’t we?”

“I--I don’t know. I don’t know, we’ve only been on one fucking date, Shawn. And just because it was wonderful and beautiful and romantic doesn’t mean that you get to ask me questions like that. I just… Shit. I need space.”

“Space?”

His heart leapt a little in his chest. He’d said that word before. “Space”. When people said they needed space it always meant permanent. It meant separation. It meant losing her. And the effect that her words have on him is a little surprising, even though he’s not processing nearly fast enough to catch on. All he can hear, feel, think, breathe is her not wanting him. And in this moment of fragility for him he’s not quite sure how to cope.

“Wait. Just wait a second. I don’t even know what’s happening right now!” He cried his hands held up in surrender. “Let’s just talk. Let’s just talk for a second okay? Tell me what I did wrong and I’ll fix it.”

“No. I don’t want to talk to you right now. I’m going home. I--I’lll call you later.”

She sweeps right past him, her fingers re-buttoning the same buttons she had giggled when he’d undone just seconds ago. He’s so floored by what’s taking place and he’s got no idea how to fix it. How to make her happy. He just wants to make her happy. And he doesn’t want her to go.

“Y/n. Y/n, please? Alright, just talk to me.”

Her fingers slip through his when he reaches for her and just like that she’s gone. And it hurts. It hurts far more than he knows what to do with. What the fuck?

***

*Three days later*

*y/n’s point of view*

A foul mood did not begin to describe what you were in. Everyone had been steering completely clear of you and rightfully so. Anyone who dare breathe wrong in your direction would get an earful. It wasn’t your fault. You hadn’t exactly been sleeping well. Your stomach was in knots. You were stressed as hell. But, none of that was allowed to matter. You had work to do. So, everything else got placed on the backburner.

You’re in your office taking a twenty minute “get your shit together bitch” break when a knock sounds itself on your door. Tiana had been the only one with balls to knock on the door in days, so you had no doubt who it could be.

“Come in, Ti.” You sighed still leaning pathetically across your desk.

The door slides open and unless Tiana grew several feet and turned into a white man over night, it was certainly not your assistant standing there.

“Hi.” Shawn mumbled waving awkwardly in your direction.

He was in a suit again. But not one of the ones from the red carpet that would make your thighs tremble. This must be one of his work ones. It looks too restrictive on his body. He’s wearing a tie, and your fingers itch to remove it, to dishevel him back into the man that you knew. The worst part is that even in discomfort he doesn’t look real. He looks like an ad standing there at your doorway. An absolute vision to behold. You had to remind yourself that you were angry at him.

“How did you--What are you doing here? Shawn?”

He quickly closed the door and strode over to you, at least having the good grace to keep his distance to the chair in front of your desk.

“You didn’t answer any of my calls. Which is fine I guess. I get that maybe you need space but...I really hate what’s going on between us right now.” He mumbled.

His knee is bouncing. You only recognize this because it shakes your desk in a gentle hum. His fingers twist and turn anxiously on your desk as if he’s fighting the urge to reach out and touch your hand. His lips are stress bitten and his hair looks like it’s been the victim of an attack as well.

“Really?” You asked, leaning back slighting your chair in confusion.

He raised an eyebrow. “Yes, really. What did you think I was just out living my best life since you stormed out of my apartment at one am without a word and ignored me for three days?”

“No, I just...I just didn’t realize it would have this great of an effect on you. I guess I--I didn’t know you cared that much.”

“You didn’t know that I care that much? What the hell, y/n?” He groaned. “Why are you doing this right now?”

“Doing what?! What am I doing?”

“You’re pulling away. We sat there in Rome and you asked me to promise you that I was all in. And I am. And now you’re scared, is that it? You don’t know what it might look like for us to be together in the real world, so you’re pulling away from me.”

Well that was certainly a read. You were flustered. Your lips opened and shut around nothing but air as you sat there at a loss for words. It wasn’t conscious, or maybe on some level it was, but Shawn scared the hell out of you. Rome was a beautiful, beautiful bubble, but a bubble nonetheless. The second you got back to New York you couldn’t help but wonder if it would actually work a tall. You were still so different. And much as you liked him, and shit you really fucking liked him, it was terrifying to place yourself into new charted territory. You were scared of him. Of the two of you together. Of what it could mean. And he never even needed you to say it, he just knew it about you instantly.

“Look,” He sighed. “I still don’t really know what I did wrong. I know I probably sound like I’m being a little bitch right now but...shit y/n I just got you and I feel like I’m losing you already. Like you’re not even gonna give me a chance to try to make you happy. Is that how it’s gonna be? Cause if it is just tell me okay? Tell me what you want.”

“I don’t...I don’t know. Okay? I don’t know.” You mumbled

The look that he gives you tells you that this hurts him. That you not being a hundred percent in is painful. Everything was just moving so incredibly fast. One second you couldn’t fathom the idea that Shawn would even want to do more than fuck you, let alone be leading the charge your relationship. It was fast. All of it. And you? You were scared.

“Okay. Well I guess just call me when you figure it out.”

He got out of his seat and headed for the door only throwing you further off your game. You didn’t know much about what you wanted. You just knew that you didn’t want him mad at you, and you didn’t want him to leave. It didn’t help that a part of you felt like you should be leading this matter. You were older, you were the woman. Never had anyone cornered you in the manner that Shawn was in this moment. It was completely different than anything you’d ever experienced.

“Wait--shit. Shawn don’t leave.”

He shook his head. “It’s fine. You’re not ready, and I was. Just…Call when you figure things out. Maybe I’ll talk to you later.”

And just like that he’s gone. Fuck.

***

It’s another long night. You’re tired. You’re heart is heavy. Your ponytail is too tight. And you wanna go to bed. But you have no interest in sleeping alone, and therefore are stuck at your desk again. There’s three different contracts waiting your signature on your desk, but the words have begun to blur. You tell yourself it’s not because you’re crying because you definitely aren’t. It’s just cause you’re tired. Yes.

“Hey, it’s late I’m gonna---oh lord. I haven’t seen you cry since Michelle Obama smiled at you on a red carpet.” Tianna gasped.

You sniffled. “Bitch I am not crying. Go home.”

She rolled her eyes. “Denial or delusion. Your favorite pastimes. Come tell Titi what’s wrong while I’m still awake.”

She plopped herself in the chair opposite your desk and reached for the tissues on your desk to hand to you. You take one begrudgingly.

“You haven’t let me call you Titi since college.”

“Of course I haven’t, “She giggled. “What kind of grown ass woman walks around goin’ by Titi. Now stop deflecting.”

Best friends are no good. They know you too well. It makes it way too hard to hide.

“I….I think I fucked things up.”

“With Shawn you mean?”

You nod slowly.

“Yea, I saw him come out of your office lookin’ like a kicked puppy. I couldn't even get him to laugh for me before he left. You never really said what happened though.” She nudged gently.

A sigh passes through your lips that feels bone deep. Your fingers twitch anxiously against the desk. There’s nowhere to hide here. You just have to be truthful. It’s the worst.

“We...We decided to give it a go. And he took me to Rome, as your meddling ass knows, and it was the most amazing thing I could experience. It was everything I ever thought it would be but...he made it more. And I kept thinking that he was going to stop at some point. I don’t know I thought surely it was gonna work, because how could it you know?”

“No, not quite sis. I don’t know. Maybe you can explain it to me.”

You bite your lip and twitch anxiously.

“I asked him in Rome one of our last nights there if he was gonna be all in. We talked about race and white supremacy and I told him that I needed someone who could stand with me in all of it, not just when it is convenient.”

“And he said…?”

“Well the fucker said yes.” You huffed. “He promised it even.”

“Shit.” Tiana mumbled taking a pause herself. “I would’ve never called Shawn Mendes to be a social justice warrior.”

You rolled your eyes. “He’s far from it, now. He’s still a white boy. But he wanted to try. He was willing to try for me.”

“So you can see how maybe I’m missing the part where you fucked up. This sounds a little like a black girl’s love story come true.”

“I went over to his place and he offered me breadsticks and dick, in that order. But then when we were getting to it, he asked me about Normani, Ti. He asked if I was going to ‘make his job harder for him’ by having her release her album before award season.”

“Oh lord, that poor bastard didn’t even know what hit him.” She sighed.

“I’m serious Ti!” You groaned. “I’ve been here before. I’ve had the music exec who wanted to get into my pants just to know what we were doing in this building. I--I can’t go back there. You and I both know that there’s nothing Manny Mendes would love to see more than one his little white girls on top and my people failing on the bottom of the totem pole. We work too goddamn hard for me to lose it.”

Tiana paused for a minute and stared at you. Her eyes were soul searching, the way they tended to be. She was as lovely and amazing as she was terrifying. She knew you better than you knew yourself, and she never hesitated to call you on your bullshit. Even if you didn’t know it was bullshit. Especially when you didn’t know it was bullshit.

“Girl, I love you more than anyone I’ve ever met in my life, but you are truly exhausting.” She sighed and held her hand up as a means to silence you before you even spoke. “Now if you’re not ready for someone to potentially love and take care of you that’s one thing. But if you are intentionally sabotaging yourself because you’re scared you gotta knock it the fuck off.”

“But Ti--”

“No, ma’am. If that boy wanted to know when Normani’s album was dropping he did not need to take your ass to Rome to do it. You have been scorned by this industry more than most will ever recognize, and I know that, and I validate that. But you ain’t in a relationship with Manny Mendes. You’re not in a relationship with the industry. It’s Shawn. And that man hates his dad and his dad’s company more than you do. I love you, but you’re being a bit ridiculous.”

“...Fuck.”

“Fuck, indeed.” She hummed. “You keep doing this. You keep letting outside factors affect everything, and that’s not sustainable. You have to trust him. He has to trust you. That’s the only way it works.”

You peered at her with tired eyes. The kind of eyes that a woman who’d been scorned one time too many might have.

“But what if he hurts me?”

“Than we pick up the pieces. We work at it until your healed. But you don’t get the love without faith. You’ve got to put yourself out there, babe.”

And that is of course how you end up at his place at midnight on Friday nonetheless. Ti had practically ushered you off, offering to close up shop for the night if it meant you would finally leave the office. You’re still in your work jumpsuit with the too tight ponytail and the makeup that you couldn’t wait to take off. The code lets you easily without having to let him know that you’re there. Perhaps that’s why you finally get to hear him this time.

The doors of his fancy apparently are surely made of thicker wood, so he must be sitting right inside the living room. Regardless you hear it in this soft, muted kind of way. It’s an acoustic guitar, the plucking of his fingers just as rounded and full. It’s beautiful and rhythmic and it makes you pause, your fingers still resting on the door knob because then the mother fucker starts to sing.

Maybe I had too many drinks, but that's just what I needed

I hope that you don't think that what I'm saying sounds conceited

When I look across the room and you're staring right back at me

Like somebody told a joke and we're the only ones laughin'

You’re fingers grip tight at the door knob, you’re mind both seemingly filled with a million thoughts and yet too overwhelmed to process any of it. His door is unlocked though and when you stumble inside the vision in your head comes to life. He’s sat on his floor by the fireplace with a guitar you’ve never seen upon his lap. He’s wearing a white tanktop and black sweats. The rosary against his neck nestles against what looks like perfectly tamed chest hair. He is as unreal as ever. And yet somehow, somehow that is not the most astonishing part of everything around you in this moment.

He pops his head up towards you. His fingers don’t still on the guitar at all as he seems to pluck out the melody he’d sung just moments prior.

“Took you long enough. Almost like you were outside eavesdropping or something.” He hummed.

“I...How did you even know I was outside?” You stuttered.

“I get an alert every time someone enters my code. I don’t just wait around for you all the time ya know.”

Rude.

“You...You sing.”

He peered at you, fingers still moving, his head tilted just slightly to the side as if you were as confusing to him as he was to you.

“I sing.” He affirmed. “Is that okay?”

“How come--I mean you never said anything.” You frowned. “That--That song. You wrote that?”

He nodded slowly. “I’ve been given a bit of inspiration lately. Is that what you came here for? To bust me in my hobby?”

This changes things. And surely it wouldn’t have mattered because Ti’ had already convinced you to suck it the fuck up and come over, but the fact that he’s got music in him and never said anything matters. Because there’s a lot he could have asked for. A lot he could have tried to get from you, and he hadn’t. It really didn’t matter to him at all. You were just a fucking asshole.

It occurred to you that you were still standing in the middle of his doorway, so you closed the door and moved slowly near him. He set his guitar off to the side as you plopped one of his decorative pillows in the spot beside him and sat down. Without his guitar, Shawn was a lot more fidgety. He took to playing with his rings on his fingers again, eyes soft and vulnerable pointed in your direction.

“So...Is this it? You come here to end it?” He asked.

You took a deep breath. “No. I came here to apologize.”

His eyes flickered up to your face, a hint of hesitance to them.

“I’ve never heard you apologize in my life.”

You rolled your eyes and punched playfully at his arm, the chiseled muscle probably hurting you more than it hurt him. He wasn’t wrong.

“The truth is...When you asked me about Normani’s release I didn’t think of it as you wanting to know about my day. I didn’t think about it as you wanting to be kind to me at all. I sort of, maybe thought you were snooping trying to figure out a way that you could hurt me.” You admitted softly. “Because--well because that’s what I’ve experienced in the past. And that’s not an excuse but it just is...it’s what I was feeling.”

He squinted his nose up and it would’ve been cute had you not been so flustered.

“Wait, you thought I was gonna hurt you? How?” He asked turning more in your direction.

You winced. “Like...by maybe taking it to your dad. Knowing whether or not Normani’s gonna release would be really beneficial to him.”

There’s a range of emotions that cover his face. First confusion. Then acceptance. And then anger.

“Why would I ever do that to you? What have I ever said or done to make you think that I would choose allegiance to my dad of all people over you. I hate my job, y/n. I hate that company. You know that better than just about anyone.”

“I know! I know that. I just--fuck. You scare me okay!” You whined. “I haven’t been in a healthy relationship in years. I’ve been fucked over in my job, in my relationships, in life constantly. And I didn’t exactly walking into our arrangement expecting to find a relationship. I don’t know how to do this, Shawn. I don’t--I’m not sure I truly deserve it.”

You glanced down at the floor in worry and fear. You wanted it. God, you really wanted it. But, shit if you weren’t terrified to try.

When he crawls into your lap, you’re a little taken aback. For how tall that fucker is, he certainly could use an extra meal or two. But, there’s something about the reversal of his thighs bracketing your hips the way that yours would usually do to his. There’s something about the way his thumb soothes at your pulse point as his fingers rest on either side of your neck. There’s something about the way that he looks at you with tenderness and kindness. It’s a little unlike anything you’d ever quite felt before. And it makes you soften beneath him with ease, all the fire running out of you at once.

“You are...the most hard headed woman I’ve ever met.” He mumbled softly.

You smiled sheepishly. “That’s what my momma’s been telling me since I was born.”

“Well she’s right. But I’m kind of crazy about you. And I don’t like fighting with you. And I don’t like being mad at you, or you being mad at me. I just want to make you happy. This is the first time in my life where I feel like I can make some good out of anything. You feel...right. I like you, and I want to take care of you, and I’d like to have something where we can both give each other that. I’m just as scared as you are, okay? I don’t fucking know what I’m doing either. But I wanna try. Do you?”

Was it really that simple? Could it be that simple?

“I do. I really do.” You whispered.

“Good. That’s all I needed to hear. C’mere.”

For him, it could be.

His fingers knot in your ponytail and he tugs your lips to his with zero hesitation. After a shitty week of back and forth it feels good to not have to think for a while, to let his lips work over yours. He’s dominant even here with his tongue and his hands and his hips. He could’ve made it soft and gentle, but that’s not really what the two of you were about. Or was it?

“I’ve got leftovers in my fridge.” He murmured running his thumb along your bottom lip. “Did you eat dinner?”

You shake your head softly and he quickly climbs off your lap to tug you towards the kitchen. It doesn’t go unnoticed to you that his guitar stays behind in the living room.

“Are we ever gonna talk about the singing thing?”

“Maybe let’s do one heavy thing at a time, aye? I’ll tell you sometime. I promise. For now, do you want egg drop soup or pasta?”

You climbed into your seat at his kitchen counter and quickly tugged at your jacket and ponytail holder.

“Pasta. And one of these days I’m gonna teach your pasty ass how to cook.”

“Sure thing, babe.” He snorted. “I look forward to it.”

***

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suitofvibraniumarmor · 4 years ago

Text

Yours Truly [Part Eleven]

Summary: Chris and Layla return from Minnesota. Pairing: Chris Pratt x OFC, Chris Evans x OFC Word Count: 1810 Warnings: FLUFF. A/N: This fic was previously posted on my multi-fandom account; in honor of OC Appreciation Day, I figured I would queue it all up for your reading pleasure throughout the day! This was a collab with @captain-s-rogers , and I will link her chapters at the end of all of my posts! Some GIFs were difficult to find again, so if there’s no credit, they’re from Google Image Search or from the original post.

July 13

Caroline,

I skipped a few days of letters, waiting for Chris to head to Minnesota. I dropped him at the Kansas City airport this morning, and in a couple of days, I’ll pick him and Layla up and bring them home.

I have an interview this afternoon with the elementary school that Layla will be going to. I’m excited, especially after having met a few of Layla’s friends at her party. They seem like good kids, and would be so fun to teach. I like the town, and staying close would be good.

How are things with Chris? Ugh, I’m so torn between wanting you to be able to keep your job and not have to deal with the media, but also wanting you two to be together! He’s just so perfect for you, and even seeing you on stage next to him – you’re adorable together. I hope you haven’t completely given up on him.

See how I’m avoiding talking about my Chris? I can’t even write the words, but I guess I have to since we have sworn off the phone again. The date was pure perfection. He made me dinner and we ate outside on the patio with the first sunflower blooms of the season in a vase on the table. We danced to that Billy Currington song I’ve always been obsessed with, and then it started to rain. We ran inside and he kissed me and then – don’t you DARE say I told you so! – told me that he loves me.

Caroline. Why does that terrify me? Chris is amazing. He makes me laugh – like really laugh, not the polite way like when something is kind of funny, but the kind of laugh that comes out when you don’t expect it.

I know why it terrifies me. It’s because he also told me that I filled a hole in their home. What if he only thinks that he loves me because I’m filling whatever void Emily left behind? Honestly though, I think that’s what worries me the most, and it’s because – am I really about to say this? – because I love him, too.

What the hell is going on with us, C?

Yours truly,

Sadie

After donning the same outfit she had worn for her date with Chris, Sadie tucked the letter into her bag to mail out later, and headed for the elementary school.

Mr. McCaffree, the elementary school principal, greeted Sadie cheerfully when she arrived, and welcomed her right into his office. He asked all the usual interview questions, and seemed very impressed with Sadie overall.

“I do have a couple of other interviews, one today and one tomorrow, but I have to tell you, Ms. Coleman, they’ll be hard-pressed to do better than you,” Mr. McCaffree told her with a smile. “But you didn’t hear that from me.”

Sadie smiled back. “Thank you, sir. I appreciate that.”

He nodded. “I’ll call you by Friday.”

“Sounds great,” Sadie replied, shaking hands with the man. “Thank you.”

She left the school, stopped at the post office, and then headed back to the farm. She changed into a tank top and shorts, and decided to take a walk around the property. With the distraction of the interview over, there was only one thing on her mind.

The last few days with Chris had been wonderful. He had apologized immediately after blurting out that he loved her, assured her that he wasn’t out to rush her and there was no agenda behind his spontaneous confession.

“You’ve stolen my heart,” he sighed before kissing her knuckles. “I don’t expect things to happen so quickly for you, but, please, tell me I haven’t ruined what we’ve started.”

Sadie had assured him that nothing was ruined. Though she knew she felt the same way, she didn’t let on to that fact — simply told Chris that rushing things would likely ruin the connection between them, and she didn’t want that.

“It’s more and more clear the longer I’m here, there’s a reason this job posting came to my attention. There’s a reason it all worked out so well, losing my job back home but finding an opportunity here with you and Layla. But, I don’t want to lose this, either.”

They had spent the rest of the evening talking on the couch, once they changed into dry clothes. Sadie avoided going to bed, knowing the storm would keep her awake; Chris wasn’t in any hurry to leave her while she was frightened. They fell asleep together on the couch, comfortable and warm.

The next couple of days after that, Chris gave her her space to process his confession. He was always open when she approached him, but wasn’t in her presence more often or for longer than need be. The night before he left for Minnesota, Chris took her out to dinner in town. Their interactions were easy and comfortable, despite the confusion and uncertainty Sadie was experiencing about their feelings for each other.

At the airport that morning, Chris had kissed her sweetly and promised to call when he could. It was a short flight to Minneapolis, but there would be a couple hours’ drive to the town where his parents lived. Sadie had a lot to think about, but so did Chris. After all, he hadn’t planned on saying what he said; he hadn’t planned on falling in love with the woman he hired to teach and care for his daughter over the summer – and certainly not so quickly.

No closer to reconciling her mixed-up feelings on the matter, Sadie wandered into the shed. She had been in this building only once before, and that was to retrieve Layla who had gone out under the pretense of asking her father a question, then stuck around to bug him.

She looked around at the tools in the shed, recognizing some and wondering about the purpose of others. Finally, she came to Chris’s workbench, smiling at the pictures of Layla from over the short years of her life. Finally, she found a copy of the picture of Sadie and Layla from Layla’s birthday party. Sadie remembered making an extra copy for Chris, but never thought he would put it up anywhere. She took the photo down from where it was taped to the inside of a tool box lid, studying the image for a few moments before flipping it over.

“My girls at Layla’s fifth birthday party,” Sadie read on the back of the photo. As a smile spread across her face, she repeated, “My girls.”

With those two words, every bit of confusion was erased from Sadie’s mind – and her heart.

When the day came for Sadie to pick up Chris and Layla from the Kansas City airport, she was so excited, she left the farm a full hour sooner than necessary. The house had been too quiet without Layla, and just plain lonely over the few days that Chris was gone.

While she waited for their flight to arrive, she sat and read a book, although she was so excited, she had to read several of the pages two or three times. Focusing on the content of the book was not her mind’s priority.

“Adie!”

Sadie dropped her book just in time for Layla to launch herself into Sadie’s arms. Sadie squeezed the little girl tight, feeling relieved at having her charge home once more.

“Did you have so much fun with Grandma and Grandpa?” Sadie asked.

Layla nodded earnestly. “I did! I have something for you, but you have to have it at home Daddy said because it’s in my suitcase.”

“Fair enough,” Sadie chuckled, tucking her book back into her bag and handing the keys over to Chris. “Glad you’re home.”

“Me too,” he smiled, as Layla ran ahead to the baggage claim. “I haven’t told her about us yet. I thought I’d let you decide when you’re ready for that.”

“Soon,” Sadie promised. “Layla, sweetie, stay where we can see you, please!”

Chris’s and Layla’s suitcases showed up about ten minutes later. Once the car was loaded up, they were headed back home. Another rainstorm had set in on the last twenty minutes of the drive, which meant Layla and Sadie made a mad rush for the house when they arrived, while Chris grabbed the luggage and ran in behind them.

“Daddy, now can I give Adie her present?” Layla pleaded.

“Take your bag to your room, let Sadie help you unpack. You can give her your present while you’re in there.”

The two girls made way for the bedroom. Sadie retrieved Layla’s dirty clothes for the laundry, while Layla dug for an envelope. Adiewas scrawled across the front of the photo envelope in Layla’s handwriting; Sadie smiled and took out the paper folded inside.

“Is this us?” Sadie asked, her heart swelling with love.

Layla nodded. “That’s me an’ you an’ Daddy! With the sunflowers. See?”

Sadie looked at the picture, unable to stop her smile. In the picture, the three of them were holding hands, and each one had a red heart on their shirt.

“It’s ‘cause we all love each other,” Layla said, pointing at the hearts.

Sadie held the picture to her chest. “I’ll treasure it always, Layla. Thank you, so much.”

Together they finished unpacking the suitcase, then Sadie tucked the picture safely away in the nightstand in the guest room, under Layla’s close supervision.

“I thought you two went to bed!” Chris teased. “Who wants to watch a movie?”

“Me!” Layla replied, jumping up and down. “Can we have popcorn? And get pizza?”

Chris exchanged a look with Sadie, who shrugged. “I suppose coming back from vacation is a good time for a movie night. You got it.”

“Yay!” Layla cheered, dancing around.

With a little more convincing by the five-year-old, every pillow and blanket in the house was constructed into a fort-type structure for them to watch movies. While Chris went into town to get the pizza, Sadie helped Layla with her bath, got her into pajamas, and braided her hair. Sadie braided her hair as well, got into a pair of sweats and a tank top, and kept Layla busy until Chris returned.

They only made it through a portion of the first movie before Layla was asleep between the two of them. Chris picked her up and tucked her into bed, returning a few minutes later. He put his arm around Sadie’s shoulders; she tucked her head against his chest.

“Missed you while you were gone,” she told him.

“Missed you, too,” Chris said, laying a soft kiss on her lips. “Up for another movie?”

In truth, Sadie was feeling tired, but to be there cuddled with Chris in a pillow and blanket fort – she would never be tired enough to turn that down.

Part Twelve

#chris pratt #chris evans #fanfiction #oc appreciation day 2020 #new to this blog

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carmenlire · 4 years ago

Text

Meet Me in the Stacks Ch. 3

read from beginning

read on ao3

As soon as Yoongi hears the overhead announcement that the library is officially closed, he’s shutting down his computer at the reference desk and heading towards the back to grab his things. It’s one of the last Sundays of the season that they’re open and he’s eager to enjoy the end of his weekend before coming back to work for another six straight days.

He passes by Taehyung who’d been assigned to the computer area for today’s shift and winces a little as he sees his coworker helping three different people print while trying to hurry them along as quickly and subtly as possible.

When Yoongi gets to their workroom, Jin and Jimin are already packed up and ready to head out.

“Is Namjoon at the restaurant already?”

Jimin laughs as he types something on his phone. “Of course. He rode his bike there and already put in his name for a table. We should be seated as soon as we get there. Hobi-hyung just drove straight to the restaurant on his way back into town so he'll be there, too.”

Groaning, Yoongi makes sure he has his wallet and keys before shuffling over to the door. “Thank God. I’m hungry and need to vent.”

“Ah, Yoongi-chi, what pissed you off today?”

Grumbling as he opens the door and still sees Taehyung helping the last patron, Yoongi just mutters, “I’ll tell everyone later.”

Jin and Jimin hum in understanding, knowing that they never talk shit about patrons when they’re at work and can be overheard.

The three of them leave through the staff entrance at the back, Jimin making eye contact with Tae to make sure he knows where they’ll be waiting, and Yoongi squints at the bright early evening sunshine.

It’s a little past five o’clock but it’s still warm. Yoongi feels a little like a bat or a particularly grubby mole as his eyes literally burn at the brightness.

Jimin sees his suffering and has the audacity to laugh. “Hyung, you should get out more, enjoy the fresh air. You look like a baby vampire.”

Yoongi snorts. “Fuck off, Jimin,” he retorts absently.

Thankfully, it’s not too much more before Taehyung comes tumbling out of the staff entrance.

“Oh my God,” he whispers, looking like he’d just stared death in the face. “I didn’t think I’d ever make it out of there.”

Everyone laughs in commiseration at their friend’s dramatics. “We were losing hope too,” Jin snickers before patting him on the shoulder. “But you’re free now and Yoongi’s about to start eating his foot so let's get to the restaurant.”

They decide to walk since it’s such a nice day and not for the first time, Yoongi begrudgingly admits that he really does love living in a small town where everything is within walking distance. The library is just a few blocks from Main Street, closer to the school, and Main Street is chock full of small businesses-- everything from a coffee shop to the soap store that he spends way too much at every time he visits to a world-famous toy store that makes their little corner of the world especially hectic during the Holidays.

There are a dozen restaurants, each with their own specialty, and Yoongi is glad that Namjoon had chosen the barbeque place for his week’s pick. The six of them go out every Sunday evening for what they’ve taken to calling family dinners and while he’ll never admit it aloud, Yoongi loves this little tradition of theirs.

It’s a pleasant walk, less than fifteen minutes, and Namjoon’s bike is clearly visible near the front. When everyone walks in, they see Hoseok and Namjoon at their favorite table in the corner. A messy few minutes later as everyone settles, and Yoongi breathes a sigh of relief at sitting down and being off the clock and away from hell, at least for the next fifteen hours.

“So,” Taehyung starts, skimming over a menu he could probably recite at this point. “How was your weekend, Hoseok-hyung?”

Hoseok grins, taking a sip of his coke that he must’ve ordered before everyone else arrived. “It was wonderful, Tae-ah. I’m glad I put in for this weekend off. Going back home was fun, especially since the weather was so nice, and my mom sent me back with enough food to feed an army.”

“Well, we know where to stop by for dinner this week, don’t we,” Jimin asks and Hoseok groans good-naturedly.

“I’m glad you had a good time, even if you left the rest of us to suffer in your stead,” Taehyung says solemnly and Namjoon snorts.

“What happened this afternoon, Tae? I know Yoongi texted me last night about how awful things were at closing yesterday but you look, no offense, a little wrung out.”

Yoongi interjects before Taehyung can reply. “You act like you don’t remember how Saturdays used to be. If we’re not dead then it’s Bedlam. Just because you’re management now doesn’t mean you should be so impervious to the plights of your staff. After all, if it weren’t for us common librarians--”

Everyone, including Namjoon, groans at the familiar spiel. “Stop bullshitting, hyung. Did I not cover the desk all week with you last month when Jin took off and we were short staffed in the evenings? And did I not have to calm down Cerano when he almost went nuclear at the prospect of, God forbid, having to pay for his 132 single-sided color prints?”

Grumbling, Yoongi just rolls his eyes. “At least you didn’t get hit on by a woman looking old enough to be your grandmother yesterday. And I couldn’t very well offend her delicate sensibilities and tell her I was gay as fuck, so I just had to smile as she had the audacity to pinch my cheeks and call me a goddamn dumpling. When I tell you that I’m entitled to financial compensation--”

“The union pays a fair wage, you know,” Jimin breaks in mildly and Yoongi just glares at the flagrant disrespect.

Before things can get any more out of hand, though, Namjoon calms everyone down. “Well, it’s good to know that the building’s still standing and that my department is making me proud even when I’m not there.”

Everyone scoffs and as the topic turns to talking about potential plans for the group to go on a weekend trip together over the summer, Yoongi reflects that he’s really quite glad he took this job in a small town a few years ago.

Yoongi hadn’t always known what he wanted to do. He’d majored in history in college-- minoring in a few other areas that caught his interest-- but knew he didn’t have the patience to pursue his Ph.D. and become a professor. He’d always had fond memories of his own library back home, though, of reading any book he could get his hands on, of his mom taking him every week when he was still young enough to participate in children’s programs.

As graduation had started looming, Yoongi had applied for an internship at a research library and had fallen in love. He loved learning and helping others find what they wanted made him feel good, like he was making a difference, even if it was such a small one. As soon as his last semester had began and his internship had wrapped up for the summer, he’d started applying for Masters programs in Library Science and had learned very quickly that there is a lot that goes into making libraries run smoothly and stay relevant to the masses.

He’d been roommates with Seokjin and Namjoon during college and while he’d wandered from library to library for a few years, trying different types of institutions to see what fit and what didn't, his old roommates had started as entry level librarians in a small town a couple of hours away from university.

The three of them had stayed in touch and Yoongi had treated them to a celebratory dinner whenever Namjoon was promoted to first assistant manager and then manager of the adult services department. Seokjin, for his part, was content enough in his role, tending to his collections and away from the pressure of dealing with the director directly and having to make all those big grand strategic plans for their department and library at large.

Namjoon thrived in his new role and when he’d reached out to Yoongi, let him know that someone was retiring and they’d have a spot open, Yoongi hadn’t hesitated to apply.

His best friend hadn’t been part of the interview committee and all around, that made things easier. He’d been offered the job the next day, started within a month, and had quickly found himself surrounded by idiots.

He loved it.

Yoongi’s been at the library for a few years now and while the whole department is full of dumbasses, they have the highest circulation of any neighboring library and Namjoon keeps them all in line with firm but fluid leadership.

Moving to a new town is always nerve wracking but Yoongi likes to think that he’s settled into things. He had Namjoon and Seokjin but his other coworkers in the department became fast friends, welcoming him with open arms. Of course, he’d heard stories about Hobi and Jimin and Taehyung-- but they had heard stories too and they had seemed to be friends almost before he even started his new position.

All in all, things were good. Yoongi didn’t absolutely hate his job, he had good friends, and he lived in a quiet neighbourhood with a bustling town life that he rarely participated in but knew he could if he did.

Yoongi’s thoughts break off as he hears Jimin’s peel of laughter. Tuning back into the conversation, he hears Hoseok exclaim, “You should see the way Yoongi turns red whenever he comes up to the desk. I thought his ears were gonna catch fire the last time he helped him.”

Glaring, Yoongi demands, “What the hell are you cretins talking about now?”

It’s Namjoon who laughs. “Everyone was filling me in on your admirer. I can’t believe you’ve had to tell him where the computers are six times and you haven’t lost your patience yet. It must be love,” he teases with a grin and Yoongi plots murder.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Joon-ah,” he says stiffly and resolutely ignores the fact that it’s getting a little warm in the restaurant.

Thankfully, everyone simmers down as the waitress comes by with drinks-- Hoseok and Namjoon ordered for everyone while they were waiting-- and it’s time to order food.

That only eats up so much time though and soon enough, Yoongi’s back in the hot seat and cursing his existence for moving here and landing himself with a bunch of idiots.

“So hyung,” Taehyung starts with a wide smile. “Have you gotten Jungkook’s number yet?”

Yoongi just narrows his eyes. “How do you know his name?”

Taehyung waves the question away. “Oh, we’re getting to be friends,” he answers airily.

Jimin giggles and it’s a little concerning how devious it sounds. “Sometimes he comes in and you’re not there so we got to talking one day when Taehyungie and I were at the desk together. He really is cute, isn’t he?”

Feeling like he’s chewing glass, Yoongi grits out, “I guess if you’re into that kind of thing.”

“And are you into that,” Hoseok asks with an infuriating smirk. “You know, tall and toned and with those tattoos--”

“The way his hair falls into his eyes,” Jin adds dreamily. “The way he dresses like he wants to tell you to fuck off but then he speaks and he’s the cutest, most polite thing you ever saw--”

Yoongi tries to keep from smiling but sees from the way Namjoon’s eyes sharpen as he watches him and knows he’s not being as subtle as he’d like. Knowing that he has to say something, all Yoongi can manage is, “So maybe I think he’s attractive. That doesn’t mean anything’s going to happen.”

“And why not,” Jimin asks, genuinely curious. “You like him, he likes you--”

“How on earth can you know that,” Yoongi cuts in flatly. “He’s never done anything to show he’s interested in me as more than the librarian who knows where the copier is.”

He’s stunned when the entire table groans in unison.

“You have got to be kidding me,” Hoseok asks, looking a little put-out. “As if Jungkook doesn’t make a beeline towards you whenever he comes to the library.”

“Like he doesn’t know exactly where everything is by now and like he isn’t a reasonably well-adjusted adult who could figure things out by himself but still asks you for help just so he can bask in your grumpy little gremlin presence for a few minutes--”

“Wait what,” Yoongi breaks in, shocked. “What do you mean he knows where everything is? Every time he comes in, he needs directions.”

“Yeah, from you,” Seokjin says pointedly.

“If he doesn’t see you at the reference desk, he doesn’t even look at us,” Taehyung adds. “At least before I introduced myself and pulled him into a conversation. The most we ever got from him was a wave and a little smile.”

From his periphery, Yoongi sees Namjoon open his mouth and he closes his eyes in defeat, knows that his friend is about to put the final nail in the coffin that has been Yoongi’s frankly impressive ability to downplay his feelings and any hope that they might be reciprocated.

He’s right.

Namjoon looks sheepish as he adds his two cents. “If this is who I think we’re talking about, I’ve seen him around.”

Looking intrigued, Hoseok prompts, “Do tell.”

With a wary glance in Yoongi’s direction, like Namjoon is afraid he’ll just lunge across the table to shut him up, Namjoon explains, “I was walking back from a managers meeting and saw someone in the New Nonfiction section? He was a little distracted looking at the cover of a book and someone bumped into him. He was admittedly pretty hot so I wasn’t running back to my office like I usually am--”

Jin snorts but Namjoon merely plods on, neck a little warm, “Anyway, I heard the patron who bumped into him ask if he knew where the scanner was and Jungkook told them. I was ready to step in but he had it handled. A few minutes later after I talked to Jimin-ah at the computer desk, I looked up and he was actually helping the old woman scan her papers.”

Nodding along like it confirms everything they’ve been saying, Hoseok looks smug. “He’s not only a gentlemen but he knows how to use technology.”

Jin stabs into his starter salad that's just been placed in front of him before pointing his fork with a cherry tomato hanging off the end at Yoongi. “Snap him up before someone else does, Yoongi-chi.”

Taeyhung laughs. “Yeah, you know Jimin and I are always looking--”

“Shut up,” Yoongi pleads quietly as he brings a hand up to his temple. “What the fuck,” he mutters to himself, wondering what Jungkook’s aim is here.

“Isn’t it obvious, hyung,” Namjoon asks, making Yoongi realize he must’ve spoken aloud. “He’s trying to woo you.”

With an unattractive snort, Jin tacks on, “I know it might be hard to believe, but some people think you’re cute.”

Yoongi blinks but Jin doesn’t let him say anything before his tone turns philosophically wry and he’s continuing, “Some people really like the grump look. Admittedly, I didn’t think odds were on that you’d find someone at work when all you do is glare at your computer screen mutinously and whisper under your breath about running away to a fishing village in Florida but here we are and Jungkook seems like a nice enough guy, albeit one who makes me worry about his taste in men, if he likes them so prickly--”

“Oh but hyung,” Taehyung breaks in mischievously, “Have you really seen Yoongi with Jungkook? He turns into a little kitten, I swear--”

“Yah, I’m still your hyung, you brat,” Yoongi interrupts darkly. “Would it kill you to show a little respect?”

“But he’s right, Yoongi.” Jimin would almost look apologetic if it wasn’t for the devilish gleam in his eye. “I’ve seen you stutter when Jungkook asks you a question and as soon as you see him, your whole face lights up. Granted, I don’t think most people would be able to notice but your dourness is only, like at a one out of ten instead of off the charts. He even makes you smile when he’s being adorably awkward, too.”

“Too,” Yoongi repeats, squinting a little.

Taehyung nods solemnly. “You’re a mess around him, Yoongi-hyung.”

“A match made in heaven then,” Hoseok crows and the rest of the table laughs.

Yoongi’s just trying to stop his thoughts from spinning out of control at the fount of information that just dumped all over him. Deciding he needs a quick break to get himself under control, he moves his chair back, merely offering, "I need to go to the restroom," when Jimin looks at him in question.

The group waves him on, having a merry time, and Yoongi rolls his eyes even as he huffs out a fond laugh at their antics, even if they're at his expense.

They come to this restaurant at least once a month-- they all love barbecue a little too much-- and Yoongi's sliding around tables and heading towards the restrooms near the front of the building. He spends a few minutes at the sink, and when he looks at himself in the mirror, he winces seeing that his face definitely didn't hide his reactions to all the ribbing about Jungkook.

He collects himself and feels better as he washes his hands and goes to head back to the table. Swinging open the door, he's passing the hostess stand when he hears someone call out his name. "Yoongi?"

Looking over, Yoongi freezes when he meets Jungkook's eyes. Out of everyone in town, Yoongi despairs, he just just had to run into his crush when he'd just gotten himself back under control. He only hopes that none of his friends are looking over or he'll never hear the end of it.

"Hi, Jungkook," He greets warmly. Not seeing anyone obviously with him, Yoongi asks, "Are you eating alone?"

He's all set to ask Jungkook if he'd like to join him and his friends-- and he knows, he knows, that his friends will have way too much to say if he brings him back to his table but there's a little voice in his head that points out that Jungkook seems pretty new in town and if he's eating out at a restaurant alone, he might like some company and apparently, Jungkook is already friends or at least friendly with the devil twins and it might not even be so bad to eat with Jungkook, to see how he acts with the most important people in Yoongi's life, that he'd love to spend more time with him outside of the library-- but all of his rambling internal wishes are for naught when Jungkook just smiles sheepishly and nods towards where the hostess is walking towards them with a bag.

"I'm just picking up takeout, don't worry."

Yoongi nods, thinking of what he can say to add to the conversation before the silence grows too long and awkward between them. "This is one of the best restaurants in town. Even their takeout is amazing."

Jungkook grins and reaches out for the bag the hostess holds, murmuring his thanks before he turns fully to Yoongi. "I might have a serious weakness for their lamb skewers. I come here like, twice a week at least," he admits with a little laugh and Yoongi doesn't know why, but he's endeared.

"That's what I usually get," Yoongi says and watches Jungkook's eyes light up.

"Really, Yoongi-ssi?" Yoongi nods, feels his face get warmer which is infuriating since he had just cooled down but Jungkook suddenly looks a little nervous as he bites his lip. Finally, looking at Yoongi a little shyly, Jungkook says, "Maybe one of these days we could get lamb skewers together?"

Before Yoongi even has a chance to respond, Jungkook's eyes are widening and he's almost backtracking. "I know that we don't really talk outside of the library and that even when we do, you're always helping me but I thought it might be nice to talk-- outside of your work, sometime. If you wanted to, of course! I don't mean to put you on the spot and I know it must be awkward to have to tell someone who sees you at your work no but please feel free to if you don't want to--"

"Jungkook-ah," Yoongi finally breaks in just for Jungkook to obviously cut himself off and take a deep breath. "I'd like that."

"Yeah," Jungkook asks, hopeful, eyes wide and the hint of a smile curling on his mouth.

Yoongi had mostly talked before he'd let himself think but it's not like this isn't what his friends were just hinting at. He's still loathe to get his hopes up but if this is Jungkook making a move or trying to be friends, then Yoongi definitely doesn't want to discourage that. And while he knows he's a flustered mess, he'd really like to hang out with Jungkook more, especially outside of work. "Yeah," he confirms with a smile of his own, tentative and small, just to watch Jungkook grin.

It's almost blinding. Yoongi loves it.

"Great," Jungkook says. "We'll definitely do that then."

Yoongi can't think of anything to say besides repeating Jungkook again. "Great," he says, abashed and drops his eyes to stare at Jungkook's combat boots.

Looking down, he doesn't see the way Jungkook's gaze softens, turns into something gentler and unforgivably enamored.

It's silent between them for a moment and Yoongi's used up all of his brainpower to get this far so it's a little startling when Jungkook suddenly shifts and lifts his bag a little, apologetic. "It was really great running into you, Yoongi-ssi but I should probably get going before my food gets cold. I'll see you soon?"

Nodding along to whatever Jungkook was saying, Yoongi blinks a little before offering, "Hyung."

Jungkook tilts his head a little, confused, and Yoongi takes a breath. "You can call me hyung. If you want."

This time it's Jungkook's turn to look away, flustered and happy, but he's meeting Yoongi's eyes again a split second later. "Okay, then. Hyung. I'll see you later?"

"Okay, Jungkook-ah. I'll see you later. It was nice running into you like this."

Jungkook waves with his free hand, smile bright as he steps toward the door. "Bye, hyung!"

Yoongi watches him stride past the big window and sighs a little to himself. He doesn't really know what the last five minutes were but he's happy and a little nervous but definitely feeling good.

Knowing that his friends will probably start looking for him soon, he take a deep breath, wills the blush he just knows is high on his cheeks to fade, and walks back to their table.

Everyone smiles at his return and he takes his seat quietly, listening to Hoseok update everyone on how his parents are and what he did this weekend back in his hometown. He's not really paying attention to the conversation though, too wrapped up in what just happened with Jungkook and if it means what he really wants it to mean and how it might connect to what his friends had been telling him before he'd left the table.

There's a pause in the conversation as the waitress brings their meals out and Yoongi debates with himself on bringing Jungkook back up but he wants to be sure, can’t quite stop the hope from sparking but before it starts raging out of control. He just needs one last bit of reassurance.

Taking a deep breath, his quiet voice breaks through the pandemonium that’s his friends making fun of him.

“So he really doesn’t need help,” he asks, out of nowhere, trying to pretend the answer isn’t important to him, like he’s not hinging on his friends’ next words. “He only singles me out?”

Jin’s eyes soften as he looks at him and Yoongi feels both put on the spot but comforted as one of his oldest friends just nods softly. “I’m telling you, Yoongi-yah, Jungkook is at least interested in you.”

“Definitely,” Jimin confirms nodding earnestly. “Did you know that he’s had his office printer set-up for weeks now but still comes to the library to work sometimes? But hyung, if he doesn’t see you then he just wanders in the books for a little while before grabbing one and checking out. He really is just coming to the library for you.”

“Maybe you should give him a chance, hyung,” Taehyung encourages and Yoongi smiles despite himself.

His friends really do mean well even if they’re a pain in his ass most of the time.

“I don’t know,” he says, unsure and not bothering to hide it. “What if I do something, or let myself think something means something, and it turns out he’s just a nice guy who’s polite and I read way too much into things?”

It looks like Hoseok is praying for patience but his voice is soft and nothing but supportive and understanding as he replies, “Then you still put yourself out there and that’s something to be proud of. Plus, you’re both so awkward and nice that it wouldn’t ruin anything. You could at least be friends.”

“As your manager,” Namjoon breaks in and Yoongi stiffens a little wondering if this is going to be one of the times when his friend has to be the bad guy. “I don’t see anything wrong with talking to him outside of the library or even asking him on a date. You’re never presumptuous or pushy, hyung. If he even hinted that he wasn’t into you like that, you’d back up and remain professional. I don’t see any issue with you crushing on a patron.”

The rest of the table cheers now that they have their boss’ approval and Yoongi pretends like he doesn’t feel the same relief.

“Whatever,” he finally says when the expectant looks of his friends starts to be a bit much and he feels like he has to speak. “We’ll see what happens but I’m not in any rush to make a fool of myself.”

“Ah hyung,” Jimin says, wrapping an arm around Yoongi’s shoulders, “You’ll be fine. It’s not like Jungkook doesn’t look ready to bookmark your ass as soon as you give the okay.”

Yoongi chokes, reaching for his water, and all of his friends laugh at his flustered face, rapidly turning red. He hates them, he really does.

But then Seokjin pats his shoulder and deftly turns the topic back to work and how he’d almost gotten into a fight with a group of teenagers who’d called him an ancient hag when he’d merely told them to lower their voices a little, and Namjoon looks like he’s seeing his department demerits flash in front of his eyes and everyone’s laughing as the heat is taken off of Yoongi and he decides that this isn’t so bad, after all.

He doesn’t know if anything will come from his conversation with Jungkook tonight, so he decides not to say anything, doesn’t want to give anyone any more fodder against him-- really doesn’t want his friends to get so excited that it makes him hope, too. He’ll see what happens and maybe he won’t try so hard to hide his feelings.

Ignoring a voice that sounds suspiciously like Jimin telling him that he’s already shit at hiding his feelings, Yoongi forgets about crushes and guys who can be both hot and adorable at the same time and enjoys the rest of his family dinner with his friends, thinking about how his life is made up of small moments like these that all string together to make a pretty good existence, all in all.

#my writing #meet me in the stacks #mmits #idk if i've actually posted this on here yet but here we go #better late than never i guess lol #yoonkook fic #yoonkook au

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