#Rip Curl locked their Instagram

[coochiequeens]

Rip Curl could just have had three brand ambassadors, one for the men's line, one for the women's line and a trans person for a body inclusive line. But no they did the lazy thing and fired the woman and have a man wearing women's clothes.

By Shay Woulahan January 28, 2024

An Australian brand that specializes in swimwear for surfers has come under fire after bringing on a trans-identified male as one of their “female” brand ambassadors. Rip Curl’s controversial move comes just months after the company dropped Bethany Hamilton, a shark attack victim, for voicing her opposition to trans-identified males competing in female sporting competitions.

Rip Curl cut ties with Hamilton in November 2023, despite her status as one of the most celebrated female surfers in Australia and abroad. The decision came after Hamilton publicly opposed gender ideology policies which permit males to compete against women.

Last February, Hamilton shared two videos to her Instagram account questioning October 2022 guidelines adopted by the World Surf League, in accordance with the International Surfing Association, which granted males who claim a transgender status permission to compete against female athletes.

“Is a hormone level an honest and accurate depiction that someone indeed is a male or female? Is it as simple as this?” she asked. In her follow up video, she questioned the policy again. “Am I just a hormone number? Is it as simple as that?”

In her reaction to the new guidelines, Hamilton had also threatened to boycott the World Surf League, and has been outspoken in support of fairness in women’s sports on social media since.

On January 24, Rip Curl posted a video on their women-focused Instagram page, Rip Curl Women, which featured Sasha Jane Lowerson, a trans-identified male surfer.

In the description of the video, Rip Curl described Lowerson, 44, as “a West Australian waterwoman who loves the freedom found in surfing, disconnecting from the mainstream, and the feeling of dancing on constantly changing waves.”

Seemingly anticipating a flood of negative responses, Rip Curl locked their Instagram comments in an effort to limit discussion on their new ambassador.

Lowerson competed successfully in men’s surfing competitions prior to identifying as a “woman.”

“With a commitment to maintaining a positive space for all, we have disabled our comments. Thank you for your understanding,” the sportswear company added.

Lowerson drew criticism in 2022 after taking first in both the Open Women’s Longboard and Open Women’s Logger events at the West Coast Suspensions state championships. Just three years prior to competing in the women’s category, Lowerson, competing under the name Ryan Egan, had taken a top position in the men’s category.

Lowerson had previously celebrated the updated guidelines by World Surf League in February 2023 which permits men to compete in women’s swimming competitions if they reduce their testosterone below a level known to be much higher than what women naturally produce on average.

In advance of the ruling, Lowerson had already been competing in women’s competitions. In March 2022, Lowerson placed ninth in the Noosa Festival of Surfing, becoming the first “trans woman” to compete in surfing at the professional level. Two months later, he placed first in the Open Women’s and Women’s Logger divisions at the Western Australian State Titles. 

In an interview with THEM, a pro-trans publication, Lowerson said he began surfing many years ago but didn’t begin identifying as a woman until his 40s.

“I’ve been a professional longboard surfer for many years. And in that time, I hid in the closet basically. I tried to transition at 19 and again at 29. And now, in my early 40’s, I’ve been successful.”

Reacting to Lowerson being platformed by Rip Curl, many women online expressed anger that the brand would drop a disabled female surfer, only to then work with a male surfer who competes in female competitions.

Many women called for consumers to boycott the brand.

“Company @ripcurl hired a MAN to advertise their women’s line, rather than an amazing female athlete. Amazing. They hate women don’t they. Don’t buy anything from these people. #BoycottRipCurl,” one critic said on X.

“Imagine dropping an athlete that survived a shark attack and went onto be one of the best surfers in the world for a mentally ill Man competing in women’s surfing? Seriously Ripcurl? #BoycottRipCurl,” wrote another woman.

#BoycottRipCurl has been trending on X for the last two days as women continue to express their outrage.

Lowerson has made his Instagram account private following the backlash. However, Reduxx was able to obtain photos from the page showing Lowerson modeled sexually suggestive outfits with captions that related to his surfing career.

Since news of Lowerson’s partnership with Rip Curl first broke, female athletes have spoken out against the brand and in support of Hamilton.

Swimming Champion and activist for women’s sports Riley Gaines called out Rip Curl on X, encouraging her followers to boycott them.

In a follow-up post, Gaines stated: “Encouraging to see so many people reply that they’re throwing out their Rip Curl apparel and pledging not to buy from them again. I didn’t know people still wore Ripcurl anyways. RIP Rip Curl.”

Gaines has been outspoken against the inclusion of male athletes in female sports after she was forced to compete against Will “Lia” Thomas in the 200 freestyle final at the NCAA Women’s Championships in 2022. Gaines and Hamilton are expected to join forces to host a story hour for children on 2nd February in Springfield, Missouri to celebrate the launch of their new books, “Happy No Snakes Day” by Gaines and “Surfing Past Fear” by Hamilton. Trans activists are expected to protest the family event.

Skateboarder Taylor Silverman also chimed in to condem Rip Curl. Silverman has also been outspoken against males competing in female sports since voicing her own experience being displaced by males participating in women’s skateboarding.

Anyone else thinking that when this guy won his last event in a men's competition he saw a lot of younger competition and knew that his days surfing professionally was coming to an end unless he did something drastic?

"The 25- to 34-year-old age bracket is the largest, with 24 percent of the total surf population.

Surfing is dominated by youth – as 71 percent of the total surfing participants are in the 6- to 34-year-old age range. 

In fact, 87 percent of all surfers are younger than 44 years old. "

A quick Google search confirms that "sasha" is 44.

[writers-potion]

Let's Talk About Pacing Our Fight Scenes.

For Fast-Paced Parts:

Short words with single syllables. Immediately > at once/ endeavour > try/ indicate > point at/ investigate > check out.

Short sentences, the shorter the better.

Partial sentences to blaze through multiple senses and actions within a few lines.

Short paragraphs

Lots of verbs.

Few adjectives and adverbs.

Cut down on -ing form of verbs, as it can make words longer

Use simple past tense

Avoid conjunctions and link words.

Avoid internal thought - your characters are irrational, ruthless and in the flow of pure action.

For Slow-Paced Parts:

Use medium/long sentences

the paragraphs are longer: three lines minimum

Include longer words with more syllables

Use adjectives and maybe a couple of adverbs.

Insert the thoughts of the PoV character.

Words for Action Scenes

act, alter, attack, avert, back, block, bang, bash, battle, beat, beg, belt, bend, best, bite, blacken, bleed, blind, blister, blow, blunt, boil, bolt, boot, bore, bow, box, brace, brag, brash, brawl, break, breathe, brush, buck, bulgde, burn, burst, cackle, call, can, carry, cart, carve, catch, check, chop, chuck, clack, clank, clap, clash, claw, clear, cleave, click, cliff, cling, clip, close, club, cock, coil, cold, collar, come, con, connect, corner, cost, count, counter, cover, cower, crack, crackle, cram, crash, crawl, creep, crinkle, cross, crouch, rush, cry, cuff, cull, cup, curl, curse, curve, cusp, cut, dart, dash, deepen, dig, deep, dip, ditch, drive, drop, duck, dump, ede, effect, erect, escape, exert, expect, feint, fight, fire fist, fit, flag, flare, flash, flick, fling, flip, flock, force, gash, gasp, get, gore, grab, grasp, grip, grope, group, hack, harden, heat, help, hit, hop, hurl, hurry, impale, jab, jar, jerk, join, jolt, jump, keep, kick, kill, knee, knock, knot, knuckle, leak, leap, let, lever, lick, lift, lock, loop, lop, plunge, mask, nick, nip, open, oppose, pace, pack, pain, pair, pale, palm, pan, pant, parry, part, pass, paste, pat, peak, peck, pelt, pick, pierce, pile, ping, piss, pit, pivot, plot, pluck, plug, plunge, ply, point, pool, pop, pose, pot, pound, pour, powder, pray, preen, prepare, prey, prick, prickle, print, probe, pry, pull, pulp, pulse, pump, punch, pursue, push, quarry, quarter, quest, race, raise, rake, ram, rap, rasp, rear, retreat, rip, riposte, rivert, roar, rock, roll, rope, round, rouse, run, rush, sap, scale, scalp, scan, score,scream, seek, seep, shake, shape, sharpen, shock, shoot, shop, slap, slap, slash, slice, slick, slip, slit, smash, snap, snare, snatch, snipe, sock, space, spar, spark, speed, spike, spill, spin, spit, splash, spoil, spring, spur, spurt, spy, squirm, stand, steert, step, stick, strap, strike, stuff, suck, support, swat, sweat, sweep, swingm tack, tag, take, target, taste, team, tear, tent, test, thrash, throw, thrust, thud, tick, tide, tilt, time, tire, top, toss, tower, toy, trap, trick, trigger, trip, triumph, trouble, trump, try, tuck, tug, twril, twitch, weaken, wet, whip, whirl, whirr, whoop, whoosh, whop, work, zap, zip.

If you like my blog, buy me a coffee☕ and find me on instagram! 📸

[darnell-la]

Wolverine forcing you to squirt for the first time?? Pretty please?

note: if you’d like an older Wolverine, you can request again. we wrote this one too fast and made it the younger Wolverine. it’s still hot!

follow our Instagram @ darnell.la so we can start posting random videos, photos, edits, and memes of the people we write about!

———

“Can’t tell me you’ve never squirted before and expect me to move on with life,” Logan said after placing you on the bathroom counter he had dragged you to during a drinking game.

The party was loud and you could still hear people playing Truth or Shot. After one of the girls asked if a man had made you squirt, and you answered that you hadn’t even done such a thing, Logan knew he had to do something about it.

He had made an excuse, asking if you could come fill up his cup with him. Of course, you came with him. He was a good friend, but you didn’t know he’d throw his cup away and drag you to the nearest bathroom.

“L-Logan -- Calm down,” Y/n gasped as his teeth sunk into her neck. “Ah uh,” he crowled, needing to give her what she deserved. “Can smell you, baby -- Can’t just leave you like this,” the man’s hands ripped at her panties after he pulled her dress up.

The young girl let out a low and shaky moan as his finger pushed inside of her. His eyes glued right on her face, watching her fall apart on his fingers in an instant.

“C’mon, baby, give it to me,” he growled, as he turned and twisted his finger in and out of her. “Too much,” she said whined as her hands fell on his shoulder. “Fuck, there’s no way,”

Logan couldn’t believe it, It seemed like she was a virgin. There’s no way one finger would make her get like this.

“Don’t lie to me, baby — Just tell me another man’s made you cum,” Logan wanted to know, but he knew the answer already. His eyes still locked onto hers, as her eyes drifted away every few seconds. She felt high, but she hadn’t smoked or drank tonight.

“N-No one has, Logan,” y/n took a while to admit, but thankfully for him, she got it out. The young girl's mind was going crazy. Logan hadn't ever shown a lick of affection towards her, yet now he was worried about whether a man had touched her?

She was confused, but he wasn’t. The thought of another man making her squirt first was unacceptable to him. He couldn’t let that happen.

Logan let his ego get the best of him, but so what? He was going to make her squirt tonight, tomorrow, the day after, and then the days after that. He was going to be the first and then last.

��I know you can take another,” the man said as he pulled out, instantly pushing two in next. “Logan!” The girl moaned at the burning feeling of her walls stretching. She was wet, but she still had to get used to the new and unfamiliar feeling.

“Fuck, yes, baby,” Logan couldn’t get over her. She looked so damn pretty. He wished he had done this months ago. He’ll gain those days back. He’ll spend every day licking at her cunt until she drowns him.

“P-P-Please,” y/n stuttered hard, trying to close her legs, but the man used his free hand to push them back open. He gripped her tightly. She wasn't going to stop him. He needed this.

“Keep your fuckin’ legs open, or I’ll fuck this cunt dumb,” the man threatened, wanting nothing to get in the way of feeling her drench his fingers. She has already coated them with slightly white and clear liquid. She never knew a man would like how much she leaked.

“Logan,” the girl gripped his shoulders tighter with a sob, feeling the knot in her stomach getting harder to control. She was embarrassed, but he wanted all over her whether she wanted to give it to him or not.

“Be a good girl — Make a mess, and I’ll clean that shit right up,” the man told no lie as his two fingers curled. Within seconds, y/n’s mouth parted as her head leaned back. Her eyes crossed as she felt her legs go stiff and her toes curled.

“Augh,” she let out a choked cry as she released on the man’s fingers. “Oh, that’s it, baby — That’s it!” The man finger fucked her cunt a bit harder to get every last drop out of her.

“P-Please,” the girl pushed at his wrists, needing a break, but he wouldn't stop. She gave up after a while and decided to pull the man into a tight hug as she struggled to breathe.

Y/n was still leaking down his hand. She couldn’t stop. He had made the girl go on for almost an hour until she passed out on his chest. breathing lightly from the exhaustion.

Logan couldn’t help but chuckle, knowing he had the girl dumb and cute, all for him. She was his. She marked him, and later when he sweet talks her into taking him as hers, he'll mark her.

[saintkaylaa]

no lube, no protection, all night, all day, from the kitchen floor to the toilet seat, from the dining table to the bedroom, from the bathroom sink to the shower, from the front porch to the balcony, vertically, horizontally, quadratic, exponential, logarithmic, while I gasp for air, scream and see the light, missionary, cowgirl, reverse cowgirl, doggy, backwards, sideways, upside down, on the floor, in the bed, on the couch, on a chair, being carried against the wall, outside, in a train, on a plane, in the car, on a motorcycle, the the bed of a truck, on a trampoline, in a bounce house, in the pool, bent over, in the basement against the window, have the most toe curling, back arching, leg shaking, dick throbbing, fist clenching, earringing, mouth drooling, ass clenching, nose sniffling, eye watering, eye rolling, hip thrusting, earthquaking, sheet gripping, pulling, teeth jitterbug, mind blogging, soul snatching, overstimulating, vile, sloppy, moan inducing, heart wrenching, spine tingling, back breaking, atrocious, gushy, creamy, beastly, lip biting, gravity defying, nail biting, sweaty, feet kicking. mind blowing, body shivering, orgasmic, bone breaking, world ending, black hole creating, universe destroying, devious, scrumptious, amazing, delightful, delectable, unbelievable body numbing, bark worthv, can't walk, head nodding, soul evaporating, volcano erupting, sweat rolling, voice cracking, trembling, sheets soaked, hair drenched, flabbergasting, lip locking, skin peeling eyelash removing, eye widening, pussy popping, nail scratching, back cuts, spectacular, brain cell desolving, hair ripping, show stopping, magnificent, unique, extraordinary, slendid, phenomenal, mouth foaming, heavenly he could give me a nuclear bomb inside and I would still ride.

moonlessoul on instagram

[covenists]

✦ WHEN DID THE CAMERA CLICKED?, L. NORRIS

some things are definitely happened in his time in australia, but does it looks like that or no?

fc: millie alcock

taglist: @queenofmanydreams @muglermami @4limq @avengers-assemble123456 @cabbyhabs @meowtastick @4mula-1 @miarabanana @amel1ee @dinosushilun1 @auggieblogs @namgification @charli123456789 @cherry-piee

₊˚⊹౨ৎ ⋆｡✦˚‎

lando.jpg

liked by pierregasly and 526,330 others

lando.jpg through y/n's camera vs real life

view all 1,029 comments

username BOY GO BACK TO AUSTRALIA

username entire grid: 🇦🇺🦘 lando and y/n: 🇫🇷🥖

username I need the low quality version

username What is he doing in france?

  ⤷ maxfewtrell That's what I thought

username she is the only one who could make him remember the password to this account after an eternity being abandoned

yourusername added a photo to their story 1h

Replied to your story

＠theemilycarey: Go back now hun your boyfriend need to race in your home country

₊˚⊹౨ৎ ⋆｡✦˚‎

TODAY ON INSTAGRAM

lando.jpg

liked by yourusername and 219,807 others

view all 907 comments

maxfewtrell I got done for that, can you come pick me up from the police station pls

yourusername Ooh who's that sexy man?

  ⤷ maxfewtrell Thanks for the compliment, Y/n. Appreciate it

  ⤷ landonorris i love your confidence

username Lando ‘whore’ norris era is like wow

  ⤷ yourusername SEGZY SMEGSY 🫨

  ⤷ username y/n what is thisss

username ＠landonorris WHERE'S Y/N

  ⤷ landonorris hopping on my luggage

  ⤷ yourusername ???

username look how fast he transport from france to australia

username behind all max's thumbnailed post, i know there's a hot lando photo

username no lube, no protection, all night, all day, from the kitchen floor to the toilet seat, from the dining table to the bedroom, from the bathroom sink to the shower, from the front porch to the balcony, vertically, horizontally, quadratic, exponent al, logarithmic, while i gasp for air, scream and see the light, missionary, cowgirl, reverse cow girl, doggy, backwards, forwards, sideways, upside down, on the floor, in the bed, on the couch, on a chair, being carried against the wall, outside, in a train, on a plane, in the car, on a motorcycle, the bed of a truck, on a trampoline, in a bounce house, in the pool, bent over, in the basement, against the window, have the most toe curling, back arching, leg shaking, dick thribbing, first clenching, ear rining, mouth drooling, ass clenching, nose sniffling, eye watering, eye rolling, hip thrusting, earthquaking, sheet gripping, knuckles cracking, jaw dropping, hair pulling. teeth jitterbug, mind blogging, soul snatching, overstimulating, vile, sloppy, moan inducing, heart wrenching, spine tingling, back breaking, atrocious, gushy, creamy, beastly, lip bitting, gravity defying, nail biting, sweaty, feet kicking, mind blowing, body shivering, orgasmic, bone breaking, world ending, black hole creating, universe destroying, devious, scrumptious, amazing, delightful, delectable, unbelievable, body numbing, bark worthy, cant walk, head nodding, soul evaporating, volcano erupting, sweat rolling, voice cracking, trembling, sheets soaked, hair drenched, flabbergasting, lip locking, skin peeling, eyelash removing, eye widening, pussy popping, nail stractching, back cuts, spectacular, brain cell desolving, hair ripping, show stopping, magnificent, unique, extraordinary, slendid, phenomenal, mouth foaming, heavenly, awakening, devils tangos, he could put a nuclear bomb inside me and i'd still ride

  ⤷ username omg i-

yourusername

liked by mclaren and 709,328 others

yourusername Hiding in the planesight ✈️

view all 1,226 comments

harrycollett Good pun, but not good enough.

username they've been separated for 9 hours now and she's preparing to meet him via making pun

username mastering in making a dad pun is she?

phoebe_campbell13 Ooo don't forget to alert me if you made it! I'm also in Melbourne now

⤷ yourusername Got it 🫡🫡

  ⤷ username i thought she's here for him

  ⤷ landonorris she is but she's hard to admit

lando.jpg

liked by georgerussell63 and 459,205 others

lando.jpg who am i if i'm not my girlfriend's fan?

view all 824 comments

fabienfrankel 🤩

  ⤷ username deep inside i know fabien is still regretting the fact that he fell WAY too late for her when she's with this chap

username Useless -Max

  ⤷ maxfewtrell For real

username ew since whn did u evn bcome this luvsick ovr sum ugly grl u js met in a gala?

  ⤷ username First of all, fix your typing then comment

lilymhe Oh since when did girlfriend effect hit you this badly, son? 🤨

livkatecooke ＠yourusername I think he's your fan but not sure though...

lando.jpg

liked by oscarpiastri and 535,729 others

lando.jpg girl in blue

view all 617 comments

theemilycarey Girl in red's solid competitor

phiasaban The switch between ‘our sweet child, Y/n’ to ‘Uncle Fred from the suburban farm’ is too violent

username “TENNESEE WHISKEYYY”

username i love how the hat is just magical appear out of nowhere

emmadarcy I'm going to be very surprised if you can handle that

  ⤷ yourusername Welllll, I could actually

  ⤷ landonorris could be passed out

  ⤷ yourusername That's a lie. don't listen to him.

  ⤷ username don't lie y/n, we knew what happened the last time you take a negroni with liv

  ⤷ livkatecooke Oh yeaaahh.... What a fun experience

₊˚⊹౨ৎ ⋆｡✦˚‎

TWITTER, NOT LONG AGO

₊˚⊹౨ৎ ⋆｡✦˚‎

yourusername

liked by lnfour and 892,766 others

yourusername Helllloooooooo

view all 920 comments

username Lando you better give the phone back at her

mclaren Who's that handsome fella? 😌

username Is this his world domination on Instagram time?

username whatever it is i'm thankful that she gave us this because if not imma be starved for the rest of my 20 years of living

landonorris Awww 🥺🫶🏻

  ⤷ yourusername ♥️😍

  ⤷ username OH SO IT'S NOT HIM????

username omg it's her simping time

username sorry for the misunderstanding, king

INSTAGRAM, BUT 2 DAYS AFTER THE LAST POST:

lando.jpg

liked by carlossainz55 and 628,903 others

lando.jpg we're on a battle. pls vote who's gonna win

view all 1,103 comments

username ALL OF THE FUCKING SUDDEN?????

username I don't understand with y'all, what's going on now?????

alex_albon Y/n. Without any second thought

  ⤷ yourusername Welcome to my fanclub, Alex

username what battle? am i missing something?

username HAHAHAH PLEASE THE PIC😭😭

username two days ago we got lando's photo from y/n and seeing lando's lovey dovey comments beneath, AND NOW??

georgerussell63 What's going on in here actually

  ⤷ yourusername It's actually because he said that if he's losing the bet, he'll not going to get close to me for at least a day or so

  ⤷ georgerussell63 The hell is that stupid bet

  ⤷ landonorris we played... mario kart 😔😔

  ⤷ georgerussell63 Oh my god that is the stupidest bet I've ever heard or seen

  ⤷ username yall shock me for a sec

username i remember you two are still lovesick as a lovebirds, but look what yall did now

username Nobody is serious here

yourusername

liked by landonorris and 760,435 others

yourusername SHUT IT YALL I WON

view all 581 comments

username Congratulations, Alex's saying is proven true once again

username i mean ok but YOU SLAYEDDD

landonorris yeah because i switched to princess peach

  ⤷ yourusername NOBODY disrespect her like that

  ⤷ oscarpiastri You guys forgetting Donkey Kong

  ⤷ yourusername Well definitely not me 😏😌

  ⤷ landonorris WHAT IS THIS BETRAYAL

username i think we'll never got their content after this like damn mario kart

username who could stand being away from each other? she literally flew from france ALONE just to see him after 16 hours being separated

  ⤷ username Wait you got a point...

maxfewtrell

liked by team_quadrant and 541,200 others

maxfewtrell Trust the click of my camera

view all 5 comments

yourusername Since when did the camera clicked? And why didn't I hear it?

  ⤷ landonorris he got the silent shooter

username SEE WHAT DID I SAY

username how did you get this? i thought that they promised after the bet yesterday?

  ⤷ maxfewtrell I've had enough about their bets actually

comments on this post has been limited

[joostklein83]

no lube, no protection, all night, all day, from the kitchen floor to the toilet seat, from the dining table to the bedroom, from the bathroom sink to the shower, from the front porch to the balcony, vertically, horizontally, quadratic, exponential, logarithmic, while I gasp for air, scream and see the light, missionary, cowgirl, reverse cowgirl, doggy, backwards, sideways, upside down, on the floor, in the bed, on the couch, on a chair, being carried against the wall, outside, in a train, on a plane, in the car, on a motorcycle, the the bed of a truck, on a trampoline, in a bounce house, in the pool, bent over, in the basement, against the window, have the most toe curling, back arching, leg shaking, dick throbbing, fist clenching, ear ringing, mouth drooling, ass clenching, nose sniffling, eye watering, eye rolling, hip thrusting, earthquaking, sheet gripping, knuckles cracking, jaw dropping, hair pulling, teeth jitterbug, mind blogging, soul snatching, overstimulating, vile, sloppy,moan inducing, heart wrenching, spine tingling, back breaking, atrocious,gushy, creamy, beastly, lip biting, gravity defying, nail biting, sweaty, feet kicking, mind blowing, body shivering, orgasmic, bone breaking, world ending, black hole creating, universe destroying, devious, scrumptious, amazing, delightful, delectable, unbelievable, body numbing, bark worthy, can't walk, head nodding, soul evaporating, volcano erupting, sweat rolling, voice cracking, trembling, sheets soaked, hair drenched, flabbergasting, lip locking, skin peeling, eyelash removing, eye widening, pussy popping, nail scratching, back cuts, spectacular, brain cell desolving, hair ripping, show stopping, magnificent, unique, extraordinary, slendid, phenomenal, mouth foaming, heavenly, awakening, devils tango ever bro could cause a nuclear bomb inside me and I'd still ride.

full video on @/gjnos_universe on instagram

[happyk44]

Jasico prompt for @butt-puncher based off this tweet

---

Leo peered over Jason's head. "Who's XghostkingX?" His chin came to rest on Jason's shoulder. "Sounds likely a freaky dude."

Jason swiped away the notification and kept watching the dog training video Piper sent with the caption "You" and a pink heart emoji. "Just this guy who sends me recipes." Jason frowned as the video ended and typed a quick rebuttal back at Piper that just because the dog was a golden retriever did not mean it was him. "I don't know him."

Leo's breath went hot against his cheek. "Then why," Leo said, drawing out the "I" sound for as long as his breath lasted. He rolled over, locking his head backwards over Jason's shoulder, face to the curling and finally inhaled. Coughing briefly, he continued, "is he DMing you?" Leo flicked his cheek. "What, he is a potential booty call?"

Jason scowled. "I don't do that, Leo."

"You should," Leo huffed. "I got pegged on Tuesday by a hottie boom-booty and her boyfriend. All with the sweet send of a "You down to clown?" meme."

Rolling his eyes, Jason shifted ever so slightly and grinned when Leo slid off his shoulder and crashed to the ground. "You give all aroace people a bad name."

From the ground, Leo swatted at Jason's ankles. "Just because I don't get the attraction part doesn't mean I don't know what good feels like. And there are some angles only the thick fingers of a college football player can hit, alright?'"

Jason snorted and opened up Instagram. He switched to the messages section and clicked the top one. A link to a recipe popped up. Above it were a thousand other recipe links. No messages, no words, no comments.

Just other people's posts.

Jason didn't know who this Nico guy was. It was spring break in his sophomore year of high school. His step-mom dragged them all out to some meditative retreat that banned all use of electronics. It was supposed to be some kind of spiritual cleanse. All Jason remembered was doing yoga, eating really bland meals, and Thalia sneaking out of their room through the window in the middle of the night and coming back six hours later smelling like weed and wearing someone else's bra.

She had a lot more fun than he did.

But when he finally got his phone back, he had twenty-three messages from XghostkingX, all recipe posts from different accounts. He checked out the account, trying to figure out who "Nico" was. But the account was private. He checked out the recipes too. They weren't weird. Seemed like completely normal recipes. Bread, pasta, Mexican dishes, Indian dishes, pastries, keto, high protein, vegeterian. Pretty much everything except Italian.

Which Jason found interesting. He wanted to ask about it but...

He turned and flashed a sprawled out Leo the messages. "They're just recipes. He started sending them to me when I was on that no-phones thing with my family."

Leo snatched the phone from him and begin scrolling at top speed. "Wasn't that, like, five years ago?" Jason shrugged. Leo stared at him unamused. "Seriously, man? And you haven't said anything?" He shook the phone. "You don't even know this guy!"

Jason reached for his phone but Leo rolled away, spring up to his feet. "Leo, give me my phone."

"Just one second," Leo said, very clearly typing something.

"Do not talk to him, Leo!" Jason shouted, shooting out of his chair and towards his best friend.

"I'm just gonna hit him up!" Leo yelled as he scrambled away on his gangly twig legs. "See what's up!"

Jason grabbed a pillow off his bed and hurled it at Leo through the doorway. Leo squawked loud, without dignity, as it beamed him in the back of the head and knocked him down. Darting through the doorway, Jason threw himself over Leo. All the air fwooshed out of his lungs.

Grunts and grounds filled the air as they wrestled for the phone. Leo curled inwards of himself. Jason rolled him over onto his back. Leo kicked at him. Grabbing at his legs, Jason pinned him down and started tugging at his arms. He ripped the phone of Leo's hands and sat on his chest in retaliation.

Leo spread his hands behind his head and fluttered his eyelashes, before wheezing, "Why, why Mr. Grace, you're so forward."

Jason shoved his foot in Leo's face. Leo shouted and slapped it away with spluttering indignation. "Fuck off and suffocate, Valdez." He turned to his phone. His heart exploded in his chest. Panic induced upwards his throat. "Oh my fucking gods, Leo." He shoved both his feet into Leo's face again, kicking at his jaw.

Ignoring Leo's protesting yells, Jason scanned the string of messages in the chat. The first one started off okay. Yo, who is this? Then they slowly began to deteriorate into complete nonsense. Probably as Jason and Leo were fighting over the phone.

Crap, crap, crap, he thought, as he began typing out apologies.

Sorry for that, it was my friend, he was wondering why you keep DMing me even though we don't know each other. He sent the text and closed out of the app before planting both feet beside Leos face and flaring down at him.

Jason bonked him again then twitched as his phone buzzed. The notification read XghostkingX sent you a message. Leo squirmed under Jason's weight. "Did he respond? Is he telling you why he keeps sending you messages? Is he hot?"

Leo batted his eyelashes Sweetly. Jason bonked him on the head with his phone. "I am going to eat you one day, Leo."

"I don't care what you do to me, so long as I get to come first," Leo said.

Jason swatted at him as he opened up the text.

Haha, no problem. I was wondering when you were going to say something. I'm Nico. Sorry for all the recipes. I was sick with the flu and couldn't remember how to save them to my notes app. I meant to send them to my sister, but I messed up on her username. I'm dyslexic. Powered through it but it does get worse when I can't think straight. Actually using speech to text right now. Filling in the punctuations after the fact. Anyway, you never said anything so I just kept saving there here to refer back to. Kind of easier than opening my notes app all the time to be honest.

Another text popped up. A picture this time. Followed by a series of more pictures. All of food. Jason recognized some of them from the recipes he'd clicked through out of curiosity. The plating was different. A little less professional, but they looked just as good as they had in the videos.

Some of the photos had a cute boy in the background. He presented the plates with a shy look on his face. His dark shaggy hair was pulled back in a few photos.

Some of my successes, the next message read.

Quickly Jason texted back, Is that you?

Yeah, Nico's reply read. My sister took them to send to my grandma in Venice. I usually just photograph the food. I have other pictures on my page. You can follow if you want.

Jason didn't hesitate before replying, Okay.

He clicked Nico's username and hit the follow button before waiting patiently. A second later the page opened up for him. Nico had a lot of pictures of food, dogs, paintings. There were few pictures of him as Jason scrolled mindlessly through his accounts. The ones that did feature him were always flocked by two other girls - one white and tall, with a braid tucked over her shoulder and fierce eyes, the other short and black with a wide smile, typically tucked under one of their arms.

Jason clicked on a picture of what looked to lasagna roll-up but much fancier and sent it to the chat. That looks good. I don't remember seeing a post for it.

That's my grandma's recipe, Nico typed back. It's a chicken cannelloni. Trade secret though. Can't give it to you. There was a brief lull before another message popped up. But I could make it for you, if you're interested. Make up for spamming you these last five years. Laughing face emoji.

Jason paused. Then, Does it travel well? Who knows if the USPS will keep it fresh.

My dad lives in the Bay Area, Nico replied with a laughing face emoji. And I'm here for the next couple months. Another brief pause while Jason's mind caught up with the air in his lungs. If you didn't want people to know where you lived, you shouldn't post pictures of yourself at university. Congrats on your win by the way.

A deep heat crossed Jason's face. So Nico had checked out his page? What did he think of the personality Jason exhibited through carefully selected photographs and captions? Did he think he was cool?

Beneath him Leo was still struggling and wheezing. Jason ignored him as he typed. I'd be creeped out, but that cannoli thing looks too good, so yeah, why not?

Nico's reply was a cute smiley emoji. Here's my number, he wrote. Call me when you wanna come over. Takes a while to make the pasta from scratch but I'm sure I can keep you entertained. Another smiling emoji.

Jason swallowed around his rising emotions. Sounds good. I'll let you know when I'm free.

A thumbs up and another smiley face.

Finally, he slid off of Leo's chest and landed on the hardwood floors. Leo inhaled dramatically then coughed rapidly before flipping over to his stomach. He groaned as he pushed himself up to his knees. Jason exited the chat.

"So, you getting that dick or what?" Leo drawled. Jason shoved him back as he laughed deliriously.

"Shut up." He pushed up to a stand and dragged Leo off the floor. "He's gonna make me one of his recipes."

"Ahh, dinner date."

Jason cuffed Leo's shoulder before wrapping him in a headlock. Leo laughed boisterously and didn't fight back. Instead he licked a long line down Jason's arm. Jason rolled his eyes and pinched his ear before letting him go.

"It's not a date." He smoothed down his shirt and began looking through his calendar. "He's just trying to make up for spamming me these last five years."

"Uh huh," Leo said, with a twinkle in his eyes that Jason sometimes loved and sometimes hated.

"Yeah, uh huh," Jason muttered back.

Another notification popped up. Without a second thought, Jason clicked it. A picture of a small cake with elaborate icing work and chocolate drips. Nico was in the background, crouched low so all you could see was his face, flour in his hair, a little bit of icing smeared on his cheek. He was smiling wide, eyes glancing up at the person taking the picture. Underneath the photo were the words, For dessert?

Jason hearted the photo immediately and wrote, Sounds good. It looks delicious.

Leo leaned over his shoulder. "He does look pretty delicious."

Jason swatted him away, cheeks burning. "Fuck off, Valdez." Leo cackled behind him before jogging back into Jason's bedroom. Jason turned back to the photo. Nico did look really nice. Messy in a cute way.

Maybe if Jason played his cards right, he could score more than a free dinner and a cute dessert.

[pinkykats-place]

BakuDeku ft. The Beach

AO3 FanFic Recommendations

Disclaimers!

None of the stories linked are mine.

Some contain mature content.

Art not mine - @BKK.SEUN

Note: If you read any of these stories and like them please let the author know with a kudos and/or comment!

here comes a thought by fallensummer

Summary: Deku is right behind him, popping off his board like a pro. Their eyes lock and Deku’s eyes downright sparkle. Katsuki’s board twists and he falls into the water.

When he resurfaces, Deku zooms past him with a wink, jumping off the surfboard when he's close to shore. Katsuki doesn’t mean to think it. It just enters his mind, very unwillingly.

Shit, he’s even hotter with ocean-drenched curls falling over his eyes like that.

One Shot | SFW | No Quirks au

Summer Lovin' by Firebugdukes

Summary: All Katsuki and Izuku had wanted was a peaceful, quiet day on the beach. The former wanted to escape from the extras, naturally. Izuku hoped to soothe the burn of both their discoveries during their fight at Ground Beta by showing Kacchan the place he trained with All Might.

But, as things often went, life wasn’t that easy.

One Shot | SFW

Beach Bums by sister_elric

Summary: "You know, isn’t Ketsubutsu Academy going too? Isn’t that where Yo Shindo goes?”

“You’re right, Kaminari. Izuku says Shindo is going,” Todoroki started, looking at Katsuki’s frustrated stare.  “Midoriya told me that they’ve been talking a lot online lately.  He even puts those fire emojis under his photos on Instagram.  Sometimes even that purple devil with the smirking face.  I think one time I saw an eggplant, but I still haven’t figured out what that one mea-“

“A WHAT?!” Katsuki blew up. “FUCK THAT GUY, I’LL SHOW HIM A FUCKING EGGPLANT!”

“I don’t think that came out how you wanted it to, man.“ Kirishima laughed.

“Shut up! What the hell do I need to take on this damn trip!?  And I’m sitting next to Deku on the fucking bus.  There AND back, got it?!” 

Bakugou stormed off, his back turned to the four friends who were smiling amongst themselves.

One Shot | SFW | UA Students

Square root equations and promises by the sea by sof

Summary: “I want to go to that place and look at the clear horizon together with you, Kacchan”

The boys keep walking side to side towards their future. Midoriya feels the need to make promises and Bakugou starts understanding his feelings a bit better.

One Shot | SFW

Cheers! by fires_blade

Summary: Time for our favourite boys to kick back and enjoys some hot summer air by the beachside. Deku wants to build a sandcastle and forces Kacchan to help him. Will the two end up making the BEST sandcastle ever or end up getting each other drenched in the sea?

One Shot | SFW

the sky is more blue, next to you by yabakuboi

Summary: Beach day and an impromptu proposal.

One Shot | ProHero au | SFW

Tolerance by Valainistima

Summary: Izuku is lactose intolerant and Katsuki is the best.

One Shot | ProHero au | SFW

Beach Episode by RandomFandoms65000

Summary: Class 1-A have a beach day and things get spicy between Bakugou and Midoriya.

One Shot | Contains Smut

How NOT To Cool Down on a Hot Day by chloeoodles

Summary: Bakugou and Deku go to the beach. A couple popsicles later, blowjobs happen.

One Shot | Aged Up | Contains Smut

Summer Daze in a Violet Haze by depressioncafe

Summary: its a beach episode babeyyyyyyyyy

One Shot | SFW

There's Nothing Nicer Than a Good Pair of Legs by Pop_Rocks (v_love)

Summary: So Midoriya — of course — loves when Bakugou wears shorts that are a little shorter than normal, or when they’re lose and during quirk training or workout sessions they slide up and reveal more of his thighs. Hell, he even likes it when Bakugou wears those tight ass jeans that makes Midoriya dream of ripping them off. If anything, Midoriya kisses the ground that Bakugou walks on just to see him walk.

He also loves when the muscles are being used and you can see just how far the limits of them are being pushed. He loves when during intimate sessions Bakugou’s legs shake out of sensitivity. And more importantly, Midoriya always wants to wear those thighs as earmuffs.

One Shot | Contains Smut

i just wanted you to watch me dissolve (slowly in a pool full of your love) by mimocha

Summary: Having a job as a lifeguard isn't as exciting as movies say it is. It's usually just standing around and looking out for kids who went too far toward the deep end of the ocean, but even that wasn't nearly as fun as it sounds. 

Sure, saving people is honorable and having a job that requires you to do so is a respectable profession, but god is Katsuki bored out of his mind. 

It's a Monday, so not a lot of people are on the beach, meaning not a lot of things for the blond lifeguard to do. He leans against a palm tree, clad in a white tank top and red swimming shorts that extends to his knees, as he watches the waves crash against the seashore. 

He sighs and stretches his arms, his muscles tense from being idle for so long. The blond groans. He needs to do this or else he wouldn't be able to pay his goddamned rent, so he relents through the boredom. He decides to walk along the shore, feeling the sea tickle his feet before retreating and then coming back again. 

It's peaceful and quiet, Katsuki admits. 

Until he hears the screams of a young man. 

One Shot | SFW | No Quirks au

Summer Daze by erza_mikazuki

Summary: After Izuku moved away as kids, he and Katsuki reconnect and soon find themselves inseparable on social media. As summer hits, Katsuki finds himself bored on vacation with his parents at a beach town far from home. However, a twist of fate leaves Katsuki in a daze.

Complete | 7 Chapters

SFW | No Quirks au

[bewitchingbooktours]

Storm and Shadow

Demon Storm 

Book Two

Valerie Storm

Genre: YA Fantasy

Publisher: Shadow Spark Publishing

Date of Publication: 11/13/2022

ISBN: 978-1-956883-06-0 

ASIN: B0BHYWJNKD 

Number of pages: 317

Word Count: 88352

Cover Artist: Ginka Jack

Tagline: The shadows call.  Will the lightning answer? 

Book Description:

Kari was dead—and then, she wasn't.

But for the wolf-demon with lightning in her fists, resurrection is no reprieve from exile. After old witch Zina revives her, Kari must conceal her true nature better than ever before, lest her slayers find her breathing and put her down for good. And since she can no longer return to what she once knew, Kari finds herself adrift—in search of purpose.

She gets it when Zina entrusts her with the Lapis Anima, a gem imprisoning the soul of wicked woman, Raven. This brings Kari into conflict with Raven herself, who's still very much a threat without her soul…and has devious plans in mind for Kari's destructive abilities.

Will the wolf-demon succumb to Raven's cruel temptations?

Or will Kari turn to an unlikely ally for help—the very man who killed her, one year ago?

Book Trailer: https://youtu.be/BEjKE5xr61I 

Amazon

Excerpt

Before she could answer, Raven’s words filled her mind. Such needless fear and indecision. There is nothing wrong with wanting to survive, Kari. The only ones who will blame you are the ones who deserve to die.

Kari staggered to a stop and ripped the necklace off. She held the gem in a hand, fingers wrapped so tight the jagged edges cut her palm.

Kari’s vision swam. She recalled the redheaded woman leaning closer, her eyes glowing embers, her smile long and large. I’ve thought of the most wonderful plan.

“You!” Kari shouted.

“Oh,” the Fire Witch said. “And I thought my day would be dull and dreary.”

“You!” Kari yelled again. Her legs were numbly locked in place, but her chest was aflame. Lightning crackled to life at her fingertips. She mouthed exclamations, insults, but her voice failed. The woman was here, the one who had ruined everything!

She extended a shaking hand. Zina dropped the gem into her palm, where it flashed as it touched her skin.

“Since you have taken it of your own will, you and the gem are now Bound.” As she said the word, the air around Kari stiffened. Magic. “Should you die an unnatural death, the gem will shatter, destroying the soul within.”

The palm-sized crystal tumbled to the ground and began to bounce. Kari watched, her eyes widening. Dark smoke issued from the gem, curling over the ground, swirling until it took the form of a kneeling woman. Her features coalesced: long, dark hair to match her wintry robes and contrast her ivory skin. The woman lifted her head, looking about with eyes cut from obsidian.

Her pale-pink lips were uplifted in a sneer, betraying little surprise.

The woman spared Kari no attention as she stood to her full height and looked around. She faced the nearest patch of darkness and raised a hand, curling her fingers into a fist. The shadows stretched away from the trees, bending toward the woman in lazy snake-like wisps. They lifted off the ground and twisted around her fingers.

About the Author:

Valerie Storm was raised in Tucson, Arizona. Growing up, she fell in love with everything fantasy. When she wasn’t playing video games, she was writing. By age ten, she began to write her own stories as a way to escape reality. When these stories became a full-length series, she considered the path to sharing with other children and children-at/heart looking for a place to call home.

Twitter https://twitter.com/valerie_storm

Blog https://rantsofawriter.home.blog/

Pinterest https://www.pinterest.com/valeriestorm3135/    

Instagram https://www.instagram.com/valeriestorm_author/

Facebook https://www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=100082414584775 

a Rafflecopter giveaway

[moonlit-jeno]

friends (m.)

pairing: lee jeno x fem reader

genre: explicit sexual content | omegaverse | heat sex | unprotected sex | some name calling

words: 3.6k

don’t like don’t read :)

“Your heat’s coming up.” Jeno says, point blank in between bites of his apple. You just nod, taking a break from your notes to side eye him. It’s not odd for him to know intimate details of your life- you do make sure to keep him updated on your cycle just so that he can send you the notes for the days you miss - but it’s not exactly a common subject for the two of you. “Who are you spending it with?”

There are still 13 powerpoint slides for you to grind through, but you figure a small break won’t hurt. Might as well use the conversation topic for something good, aka a reason to slam your laptop shut. You turn to Jeno, giving your best friend your full attention, and take the iced coffee right out of his hand. He doesn’t protest. “No idea. Would call Jaemin but he’s ‘found the one’ or something, so I’ll probably just spend it by myself.”

“By yourself?” Jeno’s eyebrows shoot up to his hairline as if you’ve just admitted to committing a sin. It’s not like the concept isn’t unheard of, there’s a market full of toys to help you through it. “Isn’t that dangerous?” You shrug and take a sip of the coffee, offering him your smoothie in exchange. He takes a sip and then bites down on your straw. His entire face scrunches and he yanks his face away from the beverage. He pulls the straw up, inspecting the now soggy and dented object with disgust. “Fuck, what is this made out of?”

“Paper.” You huff a laugh out through your nose, taking your smoothie back. “And I mean, it’s not any more dangerous than spending your heat with the wrong person. Plus, my heats get kind of… intense.” If Jaemin sleeping for three days straight and limping after is anything to go by, both parties take the short end of the stick. You’d felt so bad after and apologized to him profusely, but he had just thrown you his signature dazzling grin and told you that drowning in pussy was exactly the way he envisioned himself dying. He definitely didn’t complain about the brownies you’d baked him as a ‘thank you’, though.

“Spend your heat with me.” The bold request has your brain malfunctioning, at a loss for where to even start reacting to his statement. You just stare at him, mouth opening and closing repeatedly while he returns the gaze earnestly. “Look, it makes sense, right? I know you better than anyone, and you already trust me. Plus if they’re as intense as I’ve heard they are, you need someone there.”

You frown, opening your laptop up and staring blankly at the screen just to avoid having to look at Jeno. It does make sense to have him there with you, and it’s not like he’s the worst person to have sex with. Plenty of people around campus have delighted in talking about their nights with Jeno, dreamily telling you how lucky you are to have him and falling deaf to your insistence that the two of you aren’t like that. Plus, you’re not blind and even if you’re not the cute couple everyone thinks you are, you can admit that he’s hot.

“Wait, hang on. What do you mean ‘heard’ about? What shit is Na Jaemin saying?” Jeno’s shoulders shake with his laughter at your sudden concern. “I mean, he didn’t say anything, but that was kind of the problem. He didn’t show up to practice for like a week and when he finally did, he looked like he’d been mauled. Coach had to bench him.”

Your heart drops slightly at hearing that Jaemin’s soccer had been affected. He hadn’t told you that. “Oh.” The guilt must show on your face because Jeno is quickly soothing you, making sure to tell you that they all found Jaemin’s state funny. “Okay, wait. Wouldn’t you have the same problem if you help me?”

“It’s off-season. So, what do you say?” Jeno waits for your response expectantly, eyes soft, curious. “You can say no, y/n. I don’t want to pressure you at all, I’m just letting you know that it’s an option.” “I’ll think about it.” And you do. A concerning amount.

You spend that night tossing and turning, trying and failing to shut your brain off. Worries about ruining your friendship and about hurting Jeno bounce around your brain no matter how much you try to stop thinking about it. What if something bad happens during it? What if you never talk again? And worst of all is your brain telling you that he doesn’t actually want you specifically, he just wants to be with an omega in heat. You’re just convenient. 

That thought actually makes you cry and you wrap your blankets even tighter around yourself, sobbing weakly into your pillows. In an effort to distract your wandering mind you grab for your phone, opening instagram to find an influx of dm’s from Jeno. It calms you a bit, the messages ranging from cute dogs to absolutely cursed memes, and you smile softly at the reminder that he’s your best friend, and that he definitely cares about you. Biting your lip, you hesitate for only a few moments before typing out a “you can help”, hitting send before you can second guess it. You lock your phone and set it face down on the dresser, thankfully finding sleep as soon as your head hits the pillow.

It’s hot when you wake up, clothes clinging to your skin uncomfortably. Peeling your shirt off only gives you relief for a moment but then the sticky heat is back full force. You whimper in misery, trying to snuggle back into your bed for at least some comfort, but you find that the corner of your fitted sheet has come up, the rest of your blankets on the floor. There’s only one pillow near you and it’s soaked in sweat. You panic slightly, frantically yanking your sheets back onto the bed and trying to fluff them up as much as possible, only calming down once the bedding has been fixed to your liking. Only once you’ve settled down in the plushness of your blankets do you have a moment of clarity.

“Oh shit.” You shoot up and search for your phone, dropping it once before finally managing to open the correct app. There’s a few messages from Jeno that you don’t bother looking at, going straight for the ‘call’ button. He picks up on the third ring.

“Hello?” He sounds groggy, like he’s just woken up, and a flash of heat runs through you at the low tone. “Why are you calling me at 5 a.m?”

You manage to stop fantasizing about your best friend long enough to choke out the word “Heat.” It comes out pathetic and whiny and you pause to clear your throat, trying to keep a clear head as well. “I’m sorry, my heat came early and I wanted to call you but you can go back to bed, I didn’t realize-”

“Fuck, okay, I’ll be over in 10.” Jeno cuts off your rambling with a swear, some rustling in the background accompanying his words. 

“Thank you.” You whisper, setting the phone down and curling up in bed, trying not to focus on how agonizingly slow the time is passing.

Jeno’s looking down at his shoes when you open the door, kicking idly at the door mat and fidgeting with the bag in his hands, though his head snaps up when he notices you. The smile on his face falters when he inhales, turns a little strained as he gets a taste of your heat, and you honestly give him props for the amount of restraint he has. It’s definitely more than you have, at least, because you’re on him the second he’s inside. He ends up sandwiched between you and the door, bag dangling precariously in one hand while he envelopes you in his strong arms. You don’t (can’t) do anything besides bury your face in his chest and whimper, knowing exactly what you want but being too needy and fuzzy to remedy it.  

“Jeno, it hurts.” You whimper and lift your face to nose along the skin just above the collar of his shirt, finding that while the skin to skin contact helps, it doesn’t fully relieve the heat scorching through you, the dull ache screaming for Jeno to take you already. “Please…” He holds you closer to his chest, encasing you fully in his scent, and picks you up bridal style. “I’ve got you baby, don’t worry.”

Being around Jeno does help to ease your stress, but it also serves to make you needier. The warm scent that you’ve grown to associate with the man is stronger than you’ve ever smelled it and it’s making you lose your mind more and more by the second. You’re worried that you’re drooling by the time he sets you down on your bed. He pauses to drop the bag he’s holding on the floor, and then he’s on top of you, strong arms caging you in.

The first kiss is soft, chaste. It would be cute if you weren’t so fucking needy, but you are and it’s just not enough. Unsatisfied, you thread your fingers through his hair and tug, nipping at his bottom lip and tilting your head to the side to get a deeper angle. A groan rumbles in his chest and he returns the kiss with more intensity, trying to take control again. You don’t let him, even if every instinct in your body is screaming at you to just submit.

Jeno shifts on top of you, scooting so that he can fully lay down between your legs. You wrap your limbs around him on instinct, pulling him as close as you possibly can and- oh. The close proximity means that you feel everything when he grinds down, and the feeling of having him so close to where you need him has any semblance of control that you had draining out of your body. You gasp pitifully, annoyance clawing at you from the amount of fabric blocking you from what you want.

“Please,” You almost sob, tugging at his shirt while trying to grind your lower half against his, the pressure of his cock against your center making your eyes roll. Jeno pulls back to yank his shirt off and then he’s back, hands sliding down your body to your panties, tugging the fabric down as far as he can before he growls in frustration and just rips the fabric in half. 

“Shit, you’re so wet.” Jeno moans in awe, breaking the kiss yet again to marvel at your pussy. “Bet I could just slip right in.” He drags his fingers through the slick on your upper thighs, eyes glued between your legs. You’re just about to complain when he finally presses his fingers into you. The initial relief has you moaning sweetly, though it quickly turns to impatient pleas for his cock. You clench around his fingers, reaching a hand down to palm over where he strains against his sweats.

“I need you to fuck me.” You beg, looking at him with what you hope is a convincing expression. “Please Jen, I need you.” “You have me.” He promises you, flicking his wrist faster, curling his fingers just right. “I’m right here baby.” It’s sweet, and under normal circumstances it would be enough, but right now it’s not what you need and the frustration has you on the brink of tears.

You buck your hips and try to arch up as if it’ll magically make him slip in, but Jeno remains as patient and controlled as ever. It’s too hot and every part of your body is screaming for him to fuck you, for him to claim you, and his refusal is killing you. “Alpha please, I need you.”

He absolutely snarls, pinning down your wriggling body with one hand around your throat. The other hand stays between your legs where it continues to strike pleasure into every single nerve ending you have, adding to the fire already coursing through your veins. “What you need is to take what your Alpha’s giving you. You’re not in charge here, okay?” With his face pressed so close to yours you have no choice but to make direct eye contact, staring straight into the most intense gaze you’ve ever seen. His pupils are blown out so wide that his eyes are almost black. Unable to tear your eyes away and as if in a trance, you find yourself nodding. The corner of his mouth quirks up. “Good girl. Now listen to your Alpha and cum.”

It happens almost instantaneously, as if his words were directly connected to a trigger, your body exploding just as soon as the words leave his mouth. Your entire body locks up, mind going blank as the immense pleasure takes hold of you, leaving you clawing at his back and screaming silently into the air. 

The orgasm only serves to thicken the haze in your mind, clouding any thoughts that aren’t related to the Alpha above you and his cock. It takes a moment for your eyes to finally come back into focus enough to make out your surroundings, and you’re greeted by the sight of Jeno with his fingers in his mouth, sucking your essence off of his digits. You’re burning so hot, so much hotter than you think you’ve been before, and it’s hard for you to function. All you can think about is his cock.

“Please,” You beg, swatting at him weakly. “Alpha please, I need you so bad.”

There’s no way that Jeno isn’t being affected by the pheromones clouding the air, but he manages to appear unbothered, his actions rough but nowhere near as desperate as yours. He just laughs lightly at your begging. “Aww, baby needs me?” The rhetorical question is punctuated by a slap, his hand coming down on your pussy hard enough to draw a yelp from you, thighs closing on his hand in a conflicting attempt to relieve the pressure from the hit and keep his hand on your cunt. He laughs meanly and pulls his hand away, drawing back slightly to spit onto your already soaking pussy, rubbing the spit into your skin while he talks. “This pussy belongs to me, yeah? You’re mine now.” Jeno leans down, mouth at your neck so that he can bite at the skin. “That means that I can do whatever I want with you.” You can’t speak, can’t even begin to think about what you should say in this situation. He presses a kiss to your jaw before pulling back and uses his free hand to turn your head so that you make eye contact with him. “Tell Alpha what you need.” “Need Alpha in me.” You beg, plead, flipping yourself over onto your hands and knees and arching your back, presenting yourself to him. “Need your knot, need you to fill me up, breed me, Alpha please-” Your sentence is cut off by his cock slamming into you, the filthy sound being drowned out by his groan. You gasp in relief, breathy thank you’s leaving you with each powerful thrust he delivers. His cock stretches you out so well, makes you go dizzy with the relief of finally having him in you. Your elbows give out nearly instantly, your chest hitting the mattress, and Jeno takes instant advantage of the new position to pull your hips even higher into the air.

It’s so good- almost too good- and it leaves you drooling and clawing at the sheets. All you can focus on is how well he’s fucking you, how he’s going to fill you up so well, breed you like he was meant to. 

You scream when he pulls out, alarm bells going off as your body instantly protests. It only lasts a second though, Jeno’s hands never leaving your body as he flips you onto your back. 

“Couldn’t see you,” Jeno pants out, dropping a kiss to the corner of your mouth and pushing back in, returning back to the brutal rhythm he had before. It has your eyes rolling in your head at how fucking good he feels. “My pretty baby, taking everything I give her.” 

He’s got you so fucked out that you don’t even realize your tongue is hanging out of your mouth until he pinches it between his thumb and index finger, pulling it out even more. “You love my cock, hmm? You love everything I give you.” The pad of his thumb rubs over your tongue, the sensation making your toes curl and tears slide down your cheeks. “Such a fucking needy omega, isn’t that right?” He tugs on your tongue, your head following his actions as he leads you into nodding.

Jeno laughs and lets go of your tongue, dropping his face down to kiss at your neck. He sucks mark after mark into your skin, licking over each one to soothe it after, until he finally gets to your most sensitive, vulnerable spot. Even just the feeling of him close to your mating mark has your entire body aching for it, your neck craning to the side and pushing into his touch. The leverage you get from your legs wrapped around his waist has him pushing even deeper into you and you can feel his knot at your entrance, not quite fully swollen but definitely getting there. It has you absolutely keening, the thought of being so totally owned making you desperate.The sweet drag of his cock along your walls paired with the absolute filth he’s spewing has your body locking up with no warning, your orgasm ripping through you. You arch off the bed, the action only pushing you further onto his cock.

“God y/n, fuck!” Jeno curses, slamming his hips into you with even more force, his knot popping into your entrance and forcing the neediest sound you’ve ever made to leave your lips. You desperately wrap your limbs around him, trying to get him even closer, digging your heels into his ass to push him further inside. He grinds his hips against you one, two, three more times before he shudders, teeth clamping down right on your sweet spot as he comes. Jeno seems to come forever, filling you up with delicious warmth, making your body purr in satisfaction. He finally comes down, having the clarity of mind to tip the two of you onto your sides so that he doesn’t crush you when he collapses. He still tugs you close, arm thrown around your body possessively, his chin resting atop of your head.

“Told you it was intense.” You laugh out, trying to break the silence in the room. The heat’s subsided for now, but you’re still barely in your mind, and you have no idea how long the break will last. 

He huffs out a laugh, chest shaking against you. “I understand Jaemin now.” His hand pets over your back, sliding up to the back of your neck and scratching lightly at the skin there. “You alright?” “Mhmm, yeah. Perfect.” His fingertips press lightly against the mating mark, sending sparks shooting down your spine, and it has your head spinning. You try to adjust yourself against him in an effort to keep your cool, but moving has his cock shifting inside of you and you sleepily grind against him, not thinking. Jeno hisses and tightens his grip on you to keep you still, but the way he grabs your leg has him shifting inside of you and pressing against all the right places. Heat floods through you and your grinding turns more urgent. 

“Ohgod,” You moan, finding enough strength to push Jeno flat on his back. Your body has a mind of its own and you find yourself bouncing desperately on his cock. His knot has you locked into place and you’re barely able to move, but you can still swirl and grind your hips against him, feel the delicious friction of his knot against your entrance. “Alpha, it feels so good.”

“Fuck, look at you. So fucking knotdrunk, hmm? Can’t get enough.” Jeno shakes his head, laughs in a way that’s meant to mock you but it comes out strained. His hands are heavy on your ass, squeezing and slapping to feel the way it jiggles, to feel the way you clench around him with every hit. You throw your head back and let him do as he pleases, losing yourself entirely in how full you feel, in how good his knot feels in you. He buries his face into your chest, moving one hand from your ass to play with your tits, his mouth wasting no time in marking the delicate skin up. 

“Shit baby, gonna make me cum again.” His lips seal over your mating mark again in a sloppy kiss and that’s exactly the final push that you need, your eyes rolling back and your tongue lolling out as your cunt spasms around him, orgasm ripping through you almost painfully. Jeno groans as well, hand flying to your back to pull you as close as possible, and his knot pulses inside of you as you swear you feel more cum shoot out.

He shudders against you, tight grip finally relaxing, though he still keeps you anchored to his chest. You follow suit, collapsing against him. A tired moan leaves you and you let yourself relax, lips absentmindedly mouthing at his skin. His hand pets your back soothingly, touch heavy and sluggish, and the last thing you feel before you fall asleep is his lips on your forehead.

[myherowritings]

Hey There, Roomie

— After being set up on a bad date with Ushijima, he insists on walking you to your doorstep. Not wanting him to know where you live, you lead him to Iwaizumi’s apartment and pretend Iwaizumi is your roommate. 

pairing: iwaizumi hajime x reader word count: 4.0k genre: college/university au, fluff warnings: mentions of drinking, language, secondhand embarrassment, suggestive comments at the end, oikawa is meddlesome, awkward but cute confessions™!!

a/n: ur bad date is with ushiwaka ok i’m sorry he’s a nice guy but i had to make it someone HDJSJS,, also this is based on real life events except my friend who lived in an apartment near me isn’t cute like iwa-chan :( LMAOOO i hope u enjoy reading!!! xx sof

「 hq masterlist 」

“I assure you, you don’t have to walk me to my apartment.”

“It’s not a bother. I insist.” 

“No, it’s fine.” Although you tried to keep a smile on your face, you were certain it looked more like you were baring your teeth at him. “Really. You don’t have to do that.”

Ushijima shrugged. “I told you, it’s no big deal.” 

Your grin turned into a grimace as you stepped outside the car and headed towards your apartment complex. You managed to grit out, “Great. Thanks.”

A friend from your class had told you they had a friend of a friend who saw an Instagram post of you and thought you were cute. After they showed you a picture of him, you said the same. Little did you know it would lead to a mess of a date set up by said friend. 

The date was at a karaage chicken place and it was filled with the most uncomfortable silences you had sat through since office hours with a professor who you were sure hated you. Ushijima was nice enough and it wasn’t the worst date ever, but the two of you just did not click. You figured it was partly your fault for agreeing to meet with him despite not having a single clue about his interests and never having talked to him once, but it was too late to undo it now. 

He was a gentleman, at least. Offered to pay, held your seat out for you, drove you to your apartment complex, and, now, was trying to walk you to your doorstep. 

The thing was, you did not want him to know where you lived. 

You didn’t get red flags or feel threatened by any means, but having a guy you went on one uncomfortable date with know your exact address wasn’t really something that sat well with you. You’ve heard enough college horror stories to be wary. But, you didn’t have the heart to tell him explicitly not to walk you home… So the only solution? 

Head to your friend’s apartment in the same complex instead.

“Do you know where you’re going?” asked Ushijima, examining you as your eyes darted around from building to building. 

You’d been to Iwaizumi’s apartment before, but that didn’t stop you from looking lost and confused in this maze of houses. And it didn’t help to have Ushijima’s semi-condescending gaze on you the whole time. The worst part was, you were almost certain he didn’t even mean to be condescending— He just was. To you, at least. It definitely rubbed you the wrong way during the date. 

“Yeah,” you laughed, walking past your apartment, “of course I know where my own apartment is.” 

Iwaizumi’s place was just a few buildings north of yours, which you were quick to remember after catching sight of your place. You briefly wondered if he would be home on a Friday night, but quickly decided it wasn’t important. It’s not like you would be entering his house anyway. In fact, if all went well, he might never even know you were outside his apartment to begin with. 

The plan was to have Ushijima drop you off at the doorstep (since he so unwaveringly insisted that he had to and it was no trouble for him to do so), tell him goodbye, fumble with your bag to “look for your keys” as he walked off, then—when he was out of sight—dash to your apartment and lock yourself in your bedroom for the remainder of the night. 

A foolproof plan. 

“Well, we’re here!” you chirped, standing outside Iwaizumi’s door labeled 237E. You whirled around to face Ushijima. “Thanks for walking me. See you around!” 

“Of course.” He nodded but made no move to leave. 

Your smile wavered. Was he waiting for you to enter your house safely? If he didn’t seem so innocent, it would’ve been incredibly creepy. 

“Err,” you drawled, ruffling through your bag. “I’m just finding my keys. You can leave now; I don’t want to keep you any longer!” 

“It’s not a problem.”

Your right eye twitched. What did he think could possibly happen in the time it took you to unlock your door and enter? While it was sweet—in a very suffocating way—it wasn’t what you wanted. After the bad date that was disappointing for the both of you, you expected him to eat his food and dip. Not see you all the way into your house despite the fact that, deep down, he’d much rather be in his own home. It was domineeringly kind.

Didn’t he understand how stressful this could be for someone? His obliviousness was overbearing, but you supposed you couldn’t blame Ushijima when you didn’t verbalize your discomfort to him. 

“Everything okay?” he asked for what felt like the fifth time that night. 

You chuckled nervously. “I guess I…can’t find my keys?” Looking at him sheepishly, you scratched the back of your head. “But, my roommates will probably be home soon! Or, they might be here now. I’ll just ring the doorbell when you leave!” 

Ushijima blinked. “Why not ring the doorbell now?” 

“R-Right,” you stammered, unsure whether you wanted to rip your hair out or cry in frustration. Maybe both would be good. “That’s smart. I can do that.” 

He looked at you expectantly. 

You winced, bringing your pointer finger to the white button of the doorbell. Before you even had the time to gather the courage to press it, the door swung open suddenly, startling you enough to let out a small yelp.

“Ah—! Iwaizumi!” you cried, eyes wide as you stared face to face with your very confused-looking friend. He glanced between you and Ushijima with a questioning expression, but you rambled on before he could say anything. “Hey there, roomie!” You batted your lashes, pleading with him to play along. “I forgot my keys again.” 

Iwaizumi’s face displayed a look of pure confusion and you were certain he must never have gotten any acting awards when he was younger. His expression became even more puzzled when you wiggled your way inside the door, standing snugly next to his side. 

After an awkward silence, you continued again, “Well, thanks for walking me Ushijima-san! And thank you for the date. Maybe I’ll see you around.” 

If he noticed anything suspicious going on, he didn’t show it. Instead he simply nodded and wished you a goodnight. 

Yup, there was definitely no chance of Ushijima wanting to ask you out on a second date. Not that you were complaining. 

You shut the door—the door to an apartment that wasn’t even your own, mind you—and let out a sigh of relief. With your eyes closed and your back resting against the wall, you momentarily forgot you were standing in the entrance of Iwaizumi’s living room. That was, until you started feeling his heavy gaze on you. 

Gulping at the intensity, you cracked your right eye open ever so slightly. “Yes?” you asked innocently.

“Yes?” repeated Iwaizumi incredulously, voice raised in exasperation. “You want to explain what just happened here?” 

You had a sudden interest in your shoes as you shuffled in place. Iwaizumi was your friend and someone you considered yourself semi-close to— Comfortable enough to hang out with regularly and talk with almost every day, but not someone that you confided in with no qualms. And definitely not someone close enough for it to be normal to show up at his place unannounced. You were much closer to his best friend, Oikawa, but that was largely due to him finding out you had a big crush on Iwaizumi a number of months ago and feeling the need to tease you endlessly. Apparently, nothing brought people together like relentless goading. 

“Another bad date,” you answered with a noncommittal tone. “A friend set me up with that guy you saw, Ushijima, and the date was so awkward.” 

He folded his arms across his chest, pulling his white t-shirt snug around his biceps. You tried not to let your eyes bug out of their sockets at the sight. “And yet you let him bring you home?” 

“I couldn’t say no! I tried dropping hints but he just didn’t get it.” You looked up, a sheepish half-smile on your face. “But I was smart enough not to bring him to my apartment. Hence why I came here. Roomie.”

Iwaizumi let out an exasperated half-chuckle, half-sigh as he motioned for you to come further inside. You slipped off your shoes at the doorway and followed him into the living room, taking a seat on the couch next to him. He rested his arm against the headrest of the sofa and you were consciously aware of his hand mere inches behind your head. 

“Are your other housemates here?” you asked, curious as to why there wasn’t the usual amount of chatter and rage gaming from inside their respective rooms. 

He shook his head. “They’re all back at their hometowns for the weekend.” 

“And poor Iwa-chan is home all alone on a Friday night instead of out partying with friends?” you teased, reaching over to pat the top of his head mockingly. 

Glaring at you for the nickname, he lightly swatted your hand away. “You’ve been spending too much time with Oikawa. His shittyness is rubbing off on you.” There was the slightest hint of amusement in his voice to let you know he was only joking. “And being home alone is better than being stuck with a bad date.”

“Ouch,” you cried, crossing one leg over the other and sticking your tongue out at him. “Yeah, sure, I would rather have been curled up in my bed than go on that date— But you didn’t have to call me out like that.” You pouted. “At least I got free food, I guess.” 

He rolled his eyes with a snort. “If you were uncomfortable, you could’ve called me to come pick you up.”

Despite his gruff voice, there was a look of concern on his face. His eyebrows were furrowed and the corners of his mouth were downturned. Iwaizumi’s offer made you feel warm in the stomach, even if you were sure he was just saying it out of courtesy.

“Or better yet,” he continued in a murmur, “don’t let your friends set you up on dates with guys you barely know, dumbass.” 

“Hey! Aren’t you and Oikawa the ones always telling me I need to go out and date more in the first place?” you said, huffing at his insult. 

They told you your college years were your prime dating years and you might regret not going out with a variety of people now. When else would you have the free time and the patience to date, anyway? That was part of the reason you agreed to blind dates and set ups, after all. If Iwaizumi was insisting you date around, that most certainly meant he didn’t reciprocate your feelings for him. Meaning, you had to get over him somehow before the hurt could kick in, even if that somehow included less than ideal fraternization. 

“I never said that,” he grumbled, shaking his head. “Why would I tell you to go on dates with other people? It was just Oikawa who said you should.” 

You blinked in confusion. “But you were there and you nodded in agreement.” 

He shifted his body to get a better look at you, a scowl on his face. “I did not. You were drunk and you probably thought my head was moving when it wasn’t.”

“Well, you were drunk too! Maybe your head was moving and you just didn’t know.” The lines between his forehead deepened and you laughed, unable to stop yourself from tapping the wrinkles with your ring finger. “Don’t think too hard; you might hurt your brain.”

“You really have been spending too much time with Shittykawa,” he said with a defeated sigh. “But whatever you think I said back then, it’s probably not what I meant. You shouldn’t date anyone unless you want to.” 

The thing was, you did want to date someone. Iwaizumi. You were just under the impression he didn’t want to date you. 

You shrugged. “What about you? Have you been dating people you don’t want to?” 

He shook his head. “No. I haven’t dated anyone recently,” he admitted, averting his gaze from you for the first time that night. “I actually...am interested in someone, though.” 

Your stomach dropped. Oh.

“But I don’t think they like me.” 

Trying not to show him the crestfallen expression on your face, you looked down at your lap. You had been mentally preparing yourself to accept that Iwaizumi didn’t have a crush on you like you had on him—you were ready to face the harsh reality—but you were not expecting him to tell you he liked someone else on top of that. That was just a double blow to your gut.

You forced out a laugh, hoping it didn’t sound too strained. “That’s silly. Of course they like you.” 

“I didn’t even tell you who it was.”

“Don’t need to,” you said diffidently, fingers toying with a loose thread on the blue sofa. “I already know. There’s no way someone wouldn’t like you back.”

Iwaizumi snorted disdainfully. “I wouldn’t be too sure about that. Them going on dates with other people and telling me about them after seems to be a solid indicator that they don’t.”

You froze, letting go of the string you accidentally pulled from the couch. Now, you wouldn’t say you were an overly optimistic person, but you still couldn’t help but think the situation he described was oddly familiar to yours. There was a large chance he was referring to someone else, but with the way you felt his smoldering gaze on your body, you wondered if maybe, just maybe, he could be talking about you. 

“Maybe they think you don’t like them so they’re going on those dates to get rid of their crush on you— But only because they thought you told them to do so! And, honestly, the dates probably aren’t helping at all on getting rid of the crush; it just makes it get even bigger and bigger as they realize they can’t like anyone the same way they like you and now they don’t know what to do,” you babbled, unable to stop the word vomit.

After processing the words that you had just uttered, you slapped your hands over your mouth to shut yourself up. That was a little more than you had originally wanted to say… Okay, a lot more. You winced. You wanted to subtly hint that you were talking about yourself, not be so obvious as to yell it out with a megaphone and have a blinking billboard pointing your way. 

Idiot, idiot, idiot.

You could only hope Iwaizumi was oblivious enough to let this whole thing go and assume that you were only speaking hypothetically. But he was smarter than that. You knew it. He may be a little dense when it came to romance, but even he couldn’t be dumb enough to misunderstand your conspicuous slip up. 

Your stomach churned as you awaited his response.

“So,” he spoke slowly, keeping his cautious regard on you, “Oikawa was right?” 

You blinked. That wasn’t the response you were expecting. But things just didn’t seem to go as planned today, you supposed. “What do you mean?”

“You do like me, then?”

“W-What? When did…” You gaped, trailing off as your throat tightened. “He told you that?” 

“A month ago, he told me he thought you might like me,” Iwaizumi admitted, a rosy red darkening the apples of his cheeks. “But that was before you started going on those crazy dates, so I figured he was wrong.” 

A cry of indignation escaped your lips as you heard the news. “Seriously?”

He nodded.

“No way!” you sputtered in disbelief. “He found out I liked you months ago— At the beginning of the school year! And then last month, Oikawa told me I should to get over you by going on a bunch of dates.” 

Your brows were furrowed and arms folded as you glared into the sky, wishing Oikawa were there so you could yell at him for making a fool of you. Iwaizumi caught your gaze with a disgruntled look of his own. 

“What on earth?” you groaned, burying your face in your palms.

“I’ll kick his ass the next time I see him,” Iwaizumi vowed.

“Please,” you muttered, a thousand thoughts racing through your mind. 

Oikawa knew you had a crush on Iwaizumi. Why would he tell him behind your back? And was Iwaizumi’s response negative? Is that why Oikawa told you to date to get over him? Trying to understand Oikawa’s thought process was enough to almost give you a headache. 

“But, wait,” said Iwaizumi quietly, effectively interrupting your train of thoughts. “Months?” 

You peeked at him through the cracks between your fingers. “Huh?”

“You said you liked me for months now? Since the start of this school year?” 

The heat rose to your cheeks in embarrassment. “T-That’s not the point—!” 

“Because I’ve liked you for a few months now too,” he interrupted before you could deny anything. Your eyes shot open as you stared straight at Iwaizumi, just now noticing the serious expression on his face. 

Was this a confession?

“Ever since that night we ditched our friends to stay inside and watch Godzilla instead of going to the party.” He shared a small, slightly sheepish smile with you as he recalled the memory. 

In the beginning of the year before classes had started but everyone had already moved into their respective apartments, Oikawa decided everyday of the week leading up to the first day of school would be a good day to get shit-faced drunk. It was fun for the first three days, but by day four you were getting worn out, and by day five, just the thought of consuming one more jello shot made you shudder. 

So when Iwaizumi—who you had then only recently realized you had a crush on—suggested you two sneak away to his empty apartment and watch some movies instead, you were more than happy to oblige. 

“I thought you looked...cute that night,” Iwaizumi managed, his voice gruff and tentative. “It was funny how you were scared by the movies even though it was hardly even horror.” He snorted at the recollection, hints of a grin playing on his face. “And I may have realized then that I had already started liking you.”

You bit the inside of your lip to keep your face from splitting into a beam. Your eyes were wide open, almost as if you were in a daze and were only dreaming the events of this night had happened. Iwaizumi shoved his hands in his sweatpants’ pockets, ducking his head to hide his delight at this situation.

“You like me too?” you asked breathlessly. There was still a tone of disbelief in your voice. 

He nodded. “Have for a while now. But I didn’t tell Oikawa about it until last month. And that’s when he said he thought you liked me back.” 

At his words, you visibly relaxed. So Oikawa didn’t blab about your crush on his best friend— Though, in all honesty, maybe if he had, you could’ve had a relationship with him sooner. You leaned your head back against the headrest of the couch with a sigh. “Then if he knew you liked me, why did he tell me to date other people that night we were all out drinking together?” 

“To piss me the fuck off.”

You laughed in surprise, not expecting Iwaizumi to sound so furious. 

“He probably wanted to get me to disagree with him, that dumbass,” he hissed, a scowl forming on his face. Even with his nose scrunched and forehead crinkled, you thought Iwaizumi was as handsome as ever.

“Maybe Oikawa thought you wouldn’t confess without his help so he wanted to push your buttons and make you jealous by seeing me date other people,” you said, chuckling at the audacity of this situation. 

Iwaizumi apparently didn’t share your amusement, since his scowl deepened. “I would’ve confessed without his unwanted help,” he grunted. But you knew he wasn’t too annoyed by his best friend. Oikawa never had any ill-intentions towards the two of you, and you both were aware of that. “I was a little jealous, though,” he admitted with flushed cheeks. “And I may have gotten a bit happier every time you told me afterwards that you didn’t like your date—especially tonight.”

You smiled shyly at him, only mildly embarrassed by the routine you two had picked up. Go on a date (usually prompted by Oikawa), wish your date was Iwaizumi the whole time, go home, message Iwaizumi about your bad date, repeat. But in today’s case, you went to him in person instead of texting. 

“But I was dreading that one night you’d message saying your date went well,” he said, hands balled up into fists and gaze downcast. “Or worse— Not message that night at all.”

Your expression turned somber as you realized that while you were casually dating around to try to get over Iwaizumi, he was there watching you go out with other people. A feeling of guilt spread through you as you bowed your head slightly, wishing you had taken the chance to tell him your feelings instead of trying to toss them aside. 

“Iwaizumi, I’m so sorry,” you said. “I didn’t even think about how it could be affecting you.” 

“Hey, it’s okay.” He placed his closed hand on the top of your head, making you look up at him. He nodded once. “You didn’t know. And Assikawa was the one pushing you to go on dates you didn’t want,” he said wryly, though his tone was more amused than bitter. “But maybe now you don’t have to keep going on those bad dates anymore.” 

Your heart skipped a beat at his words. Was he offering—?

“Y’know,” he said, “if you… If we…”

“Went on a date?” you completed, hesitant but hopeful. “With each other, I mean.”

“Yes. With each other.” He held his breath. “What do you think?”

After a beat of silence, your face split into a grin. You practically jumped off the couch in excitement, bouncing towards Iwaizumi to tackle him into a hug. He let out a surprised grunt, but caught you in his arms nonetheless.  

“I think you could’ve saved me loads of wasted nights if you had asked a month earlier!” you laughed, burrowing your face into his chest— His very strong, very muscular chest that had no business being this comfortable. “To think all this time I could’ve been going on dates with you instead of random people I end up blocking a day after?”

His right hand rested between your shoulder blades while his left was lightly cupping the back of your head. He chuckled and you felt the vibrations through his thin t-shirt. 

“We’ll have plenty of time to make up for it now,” he said, voice warm and inviting. “We can catch up on dates this whole weekend. Or just rewatch all of Godzilla again.” 

“That sounds like the perfect date weekend.” The grin on your face never left as you stayed tangled in his arms. “And your roommates aren’t back until Monday, hmm?”

He titled his head down at you to see your expression, the corner of his mouth quirked upward as he smirked. “Yup. They’ll be gone all weekend.”

You two exchanged knowing looks, causing you to wiggle your eyebrows suggestively and make him laugh. His ears turned red and when you pointed it out he got even redder. You smiled at each other as you held him even tighter. 

It didn’t matter what you two would be doing this weekend. All you cared about was getting to spend more time with Iwaizumi.

“Then we most definitely have a lot of catching up to do.” 

[luvnami]

𝐜𝐚𝐭 𝐭𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐬!

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 - aa my first time writing for kny!! i hope you like it~ the title is a play on the word ‘pillars’ lol hopefully that makes sense... enjoy!! likes, comments and reblogs really help me a lot <3

𝐛𝐞𝐭𝐚 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 - @/amjustagirl​ (muacks)

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 - mention of food

𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬 - what if the pillars were... cats?

𝐡𝐢𝐦𝐞𝐣𝐢𝐦𝐚 𝐠𝐲𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐢

- the CHONKIEST fella you’ve ever seen in your entire life

- seriously, this cat feels like a brick when you try to pick him up

- yes, his fur is dense. no, he does not get any skinnier when he’s matted down with water

- a lovely, calm cat abandoned by his previous owners because they were moving out of the country

- he loves lazing in the sun and his brown fur turns golden in it!!!

- is a lap cat but doesn’t understand that your legs turn numb way too fast when he’s purring away like a little truck motor 

- (his purrs are so deep……. put him on an asmr youtube channel already!!!!)

- once, you had a dream that you were drowning. you found him sleeping on your chest when you woke up gasping for air

- broke a flimsy cat tree once and is now terrified of heights 

- a big baby :( kind of needy, always welcomes you at the door when you come home with chirps and gets frisky when you don’t return till late

𝐢𝐠𝐮𝐫𝐨 𝐨𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐚𝐢

- …

- the quiet cat that seems like it might murder you in your sleep

- you adopted him together with kanroji because he simply wouldn’t leave her side and wouldn’t leave your side so… yeah

- this cat HATED you at first

- like… he even refused to eat the food that you tried to give him :/// you had to lure him out with some churu 

- you once woke up in the middle of the night because you were thirsty and found two glowy things at your bedroom door

- yeah, he was staring at you while you slept

- you didn’t dare to get a glass of water and just went back to sleep

- dark gray short fur with heterochromia! you think that he might be kanroji’s sibling but the centre said that they came in at different times

- he goes crazy for catnip oh my goodness

- he rolls himself in it and purrs so LOUD……….. ok iguro……..

𝐤𝐚𝐧𝐫𝐨𝐣𝐢 𝐦𝐢𝐭𝐬𝐮𝐫𝐢

- so! affectionate!

- you adopted her from a local centre… seriously, who abandoned this pretty baby!!!!!!!

- (iguro insisted on being adopted as well. they come in a pair, do not separate.)

- is a white short fur with heterochromia <333 she looks so magical omg

- when you visited the adoption centre, she wouldn’t stop meowing and curling herself around your legs

- how could you not take her home!!!!!

- she tries to steal all kinds of food (even yours). please don’t own any plants, she will try to chomp them as well

- one time you came back home and heard some loud rustling from the door. you were terrified that it was a thief but when you switched on the lights, the cat had somehow managed to raid your pantry :/

- loves loves loves cuddles!! will even let you touch her soft tummy and play with her toe beans (only for a while though!)

- you wish she’d stop jumping around and getting into the hardest to reach spots…….

- loves trying out new collars, toys and even outfits!

- grooms iguro a lot and loves playing with him <3

𝐤𝐨𝐜𝐡𝐨 𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐨𝐛𝐮

- y’all know the cats that play nice when you’re petting them and then bite your hand immediately after… yeah

- the childhood cat that gives you trauma after it scratched you one too many times

- but very lovable and social!! loves meeting new people and then giving you a smug look as she crawls into their lap

- is not tempted by treats… she will do a trick when she wants to

- siamese, brown to white with a tail that flicks too much when she’s irritated

- this cat pushes your glass of water off of the table while looking you in the eye

- will lay herself over your keyboard when you’re trying to work

- has and will chew up your socks again

- scratches your furniture even after you sprayed it with that ‘no-scratch’ spray

- HOWEVER she will occasionally let you scritch her chin when she feels amiable…….

- tries to groom you sometimes

- jumps around too much for her (and your) own good. has caused the shattering of many things and now you cannot place fragile objects on shelves

𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐠𝐨𝐤𝐮 𝐤𝐲𝐨𝐣𝐮𝐫𝐨

- the most!! active and happy tabby cat you’ve ever seen!!!!! 

- meow! meow meow meow!

- man i have no idea what you’re saying rengoku but you look happy and adorable so have a treat

- probably a family cat that your dad brought back home (much to mom’s dismay) but he’s part of the family now

- VERY vocal at night no matter how much you try to tire him out in the day… rip 

- will wake you up because! human! it is night time and my water bowl is an inch out of place!

- has the most gorgeous coat ever… really. it’s an envy for many cat owners

- he struts around with his head in the air and demands many pets from you while yowling and pawing your leg

- loves outdoor walks, actually. will attack a dog on sight if given the chance so please keep him on a leash

- give him little booties to keep his paws clean!!!!!!!! he fell over the first time you put them on but now he’s used to it and he looks so cute omg

- very nurturing!! takes to other cats very easily and is a joy to have around if you’re fostering other animals (besides dogs)

𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐚𝐳𝐮𝐠𝐚𝐰𝐚 𝐬𝐚𝐧𝐞𝐦𝐢

- this bastard cat

- hisses if you pat him for too long

- hisses if you don’t give him attention

- hisses while you’re pouring out his food and will NOT hesitate to bite you

- if you touch his paw pads, you can goodbye to your fingers

- i’m thinking……. gray shorthair with green eyes!

- probably a stray cat that you took in (which came with a lot of coaxing, snacks and wrangling) who got into one too many fights 

- he took a while to get used to staying indoors, often hiding in obscure places and was oddly possessive of your sofa

- no, he did not let you sit on it for a whole month

- he’s very protective and territorial! when he’s feeling like it, he’ll rub against you and get into your closet to curl up and scent your clothes (getting fur all over them)

- once, when you had some friends over, you had to lock him in your bedroom because he wouldn’t stop snarling at them

- no one dares to come over to your place after that

- (he’s secretly addicted to butt pats)

𝐭𝐨𝐤𝐢𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐮𝐢𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐫𝐨

- black shorthair that literally appeared in your house one day

- you have no idea where he came from but you let him stay for a few days and he’s never left since then

- sometimes, he wanders outside (while chasing a butterfly or something...) but always comes back in time for dinner

- has the clearest emerald eyes!!

- he’s so quiet oh my goodness. you swear you’ve never heard him meow or chirp or purr once………. you think he might be a ghost cat sometimes 

- moves around silently too. has scared you on more than one occasion when you turned around and found him staring at you, or felt something furry brush against your leg while you weren’t expecting it

- doesn’t initiate affection much but will let you pet and smother him with love!! he kinda just… chills lol

- loves snuggling in the warmest places! sometimes you’ll come home and find a suspicious bump under your covers… lift it and you might find a friend within <3

- hates hate hates collars

- will literally bat at you if you ever try to put one on him

𝐭𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐨𝐤𝐚 𝐠𝐢𝐲𝐮

- loves water so much its crazy

- you have to lock your bathroom door because he’s somehow managed to figure out how to open the doors in your house

- like, he’ll actually jump into the shower with you 

- you brought him home one day when you found him as a kitten in the rain outside :c (ur the hot anime character now)

- he’s really quiet! rarely meows and prefers to headbutt you (which can be slightly inconvenient, like that one time you were pouring coffee and nearly scalded the both of you)

- his fur is always messy. sticks up everywhere no matter how much you try to brush it

- black fur of medium length and thickness!!! puffs up SO MUCH when winter comes though

- it’s insane, he looks like a ball of soot

- exceptionally fast. when you try to play fetch with him, all you’ll see is a black blur darting back and forth

- easily scared

- you have to be careful when rounding corners or petting him because if he doesn’t expect it he’ll jump like five feet in the air

𝐮𝐳𝐮𝐢 𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐧

- if you do not change his collars or outfits at least once a week or brush him daily he will start yowling

- you decided to adopt him after your neighbour moved to an apartment that didn’t allow cats

- unfortunately, your neighbour was also the most outrageously extravagant person you’ve ever met and spoiled uzui too much

- a good chunk of your monthly spending goes to the cat

- will not eat cheap cat food (how can he tell the difference…?)

- occasionally buries himself in the back of your closet because it’s dark and smells like you but please help me i’m entangled in a scarf and can’t get out!

- loves posing for photographs and being cooed over!! if you run an instagram account for him you’ll be sure to get popular really quickly

- he just… knows the camera is there lol

- hates having his nails clipped omg

- he will run around the house just to escape you and will only be bribed by a fancy new outfit or a churu

[outofsstyles]

AU | Famous!Reader x Fashion student!Harry

☁️ FIC PAGE ☁️

word count: 22.9k

warnings: explicit language, mentions of alcohol

//

Time, mystical time

Cuttin' me open, then healin' me fine

Were there clues I didn't see?

- Invisible String, Taylor Swift

//

Harry huffs a sigh of relief as he stumbles his way up the last steps of the staircase, being greeted with the familiar sight of the front door to his flat. His shoulders are hunched from the stress of a long day, still getting used to the hectic routine after coming back from the holiday season. Eyelids blinking slower with each step, he sniffs as he reaches for his set of keys in the side pocket of his backpack. Cold drops of rain slide down his neck from his hair and his face feels cold from the whisks of wind that whipped around him in the short jog from the tube station to his building. His feet are sore from standing around for so long, and the beginning of a headache sparking under his temple, making him frown as he takes a beat too long to unlock the door. To say he’s tired would be an understatement, and as much as the warm scent of the vanilla candles welcomed him are soothing, he can’t help but ache for a hot shower.

His bag drops to the floor with a faint thump. The sound of the television takes over the small space, and not long after he shrugs himself out of his coat he catches the sight of a recognizable set of  curls from Julia’s spot in the couch across the room, snuggling against the cushions with a bright pink blanket wrapped around her and a big bowl of popcorn popped in her lap. Harry envies her for a moment, for getting the chance to work as she’s cozied up inside their warm apartment. From where he stands, he can still feel Julia’s gaze taking in his undoubtedly drained appearance, her expression softening a bit.

“Rough day?”

“Jus’ tired.” He reaches up to pull out the hair tie that keeps part of his locks from his eyes, massaging his scalp as he does so. “S’raining a lot.”

“You should’ve taken my umbrella.”

“I’m not going out in public with that.” He scrunches his nose, a hand resting on the wall for support as he reaches down to take off his vans, the shoes suddenly becoming too tight on his feet.

He’s referring to the umbrella she got  roughly a year ago. She had bought it for her mom at a souvenir store and forgot to take it with her on her flight back home for the holidays, so when she came back she’d made the decision to keep it. The top of it is filled with all sorts of typical figures related to London, big red cabins illustrated on the material, surrounded by matching busses and marching soldiers, and of course, an image of a couple Big Bens standing tall next to it. It’s nothing too bad, Harry reckons there’s many uglier gifts she could’ve gotten, but it’s far too touristy for him not to cringe at the thought of parading it around.

Julia scoffs at him, rolling her eyes with a shake of her head. “Buy your own then!” She brings her attention back to the screen in front of her. “Or just catch a cold from walking around in the rain, see if I care.”

He breathes out a laugh at her dramatics, scratching his nose slightly and feeling his icy skin as he makes his way to the bathroom, not indulging further in the banter with his flatmate. Once he’s locked in, Harry can’t help but shrug out of his clothes in an almost impatient manner, eager to finally wash the tension and sweat off of his body.

He takes his time when he finally gets under the hot jet of his showerhead, not holding back a relieved sigh  as the water hits his skin with a hard pressure that’s just as painful as it is satisfying.

When he sees Julia again, stepping out of his room clad in an all grey sweats set (except from a couple paint stains decorating the sweatshirt, result of an art course he attended a few months ago), she’s sitting straighter against the cushions, her hair now up in a ponytail, a small computer propped on her lap taking the place of the popcorn bowl, that’s now by her side. She peeks at Harry for a second from under her glasses before focusing again on typing something he assumes must be work related.

“You know, for someone who’s a fashion major you sure have a questionable taste in clothes.” She doesn’t look up from her screen as she teases.

“When I have money for Gucci I’ll make sure to parade it around the flat.” His steps are still lazy as he reaches the messy counter that separates the kitchen area from where Julia sits on the living room couch. Not paying any mind to the stacks of course books and loose papers on top of it, he leans to rest his hands over the mess. “Until then, you're stuck with my paint-stained sweats. Tea?”

“I’m good.”

Harry’s hand hits the countertop with a faint thump as he turns. The wooden cabinets creek as he opens them in order to locate a hand painted blue mug with colorful little chicks dancing around it. He rests it on the counter as he reaches for the kettle to fill it with water. A woman’s voice takes over the space, her tone pitching louder in enthusiasm as she comments on the name of a couple artists. He recognizes some from scrolling around Spotify playlists or seeing it written on magazines before.  Glancing over his shoulder, Harry catches an image of a red carpet of sorts being transmitted on the screen. An awards show.

It’s the kind of program Harry’s gotten quite used to seeing by now. From the moment Julia landed an internship at a music magazine, there had been enough occasions in which she had to write a piece regarding an award show. Usually, though, those evenings are prompted with the presence of her girlfriend, Blake, (who happens to be Harry’s classmate -- and he still prides himself in his matchmaking skills for introducing them to each other)  who enjoys making snarky comments about people’s outfits as Julia gushes over their performances. Harry’s even joined them a couple times when those nights are held at their flat and not over at Blake’s, not much so for the content -- actually finding most of it boring -- but more for the company. It’s about listening to the two girls bicker as he steals a handful of Julia’s popcorn.

The odd setting of that night doesn’t go unnoticed by Harry, though, and once the kettle’s set on the stove he turns to her, leaning back on the counter,  “Is Blake not coming tonight?”

“She left early ‘cause she promised to babysit for her neighbors. Oh! You got mail, by the way.” She doesn’t look up from her computer as she motions with her head to the spot on the counter in front of him where a couple letters sat, some with their seals already ripped.  “Quite fancy if you ask me.”

Harry frowns slightly, not expecting any mail, much less anything fancy. sure enough, it doesn’t take him long to spot the one she’s talking about, as the black envelope easily stands out amongst the regular ones as well as his name written in cursive letters on top of it. When he picks it up, turning it around, he notices a small leaf branch with a golden ribbon attached to the front by a wax seal matching its color (it’s the first time Harry’s actually seen anyone seal a letter like this outside period tv shows and satisfying video compilations on his instagram explore page, and it only helps to deepen the crease between his brows). He can make out the figure of a fern engraved on the seal, but no other indication of the content inside of it.

With a quick motion, Harry breaks the seal, barely catching the tiny branch mid-air as it falls to the ground. He leans forward, resting his arms on the counter as he retrieves the card resting inside. It takes a single read of the words printed on it  for him to realize what's it all about. A wedding invitation. One he’d completely let slip from his memory that was even happening in the first place. Not that he could be blamed for it, considering the last time he’d chatted with the bride and groom he was seventeen living under his mum’s roof a good four-hour drive away. It’s still nice of them to have him in mind, Harry thinks, setting the letter down once he hears the whistling sound of the kettle behind him.

Not thinking much more of the mail, he moves around the small space of the kitchen, humming along to an overplayed song that comes up on the telly, as he finishes preparing his cuppa. Once he’s done, he walks to the couch, making himself comfortable on the opposite end to where Julia sits. His eyes set on the screen in front of them just as an older woman, with her hair pulled back and a silver gown cascading down her body, speaks into a microphone.

“So, what are we watching?” Harry asks with a sip of his tea.

“The Grammys.”

Harry’s brows shoot up. “Is it today already?”

“Yup.” Julia says, not looking up from her computer as she keeps typing. “Have to write an article about it.”

“Look at you!” Harry stretches his arm to bump on his friend’s shoulder. “Getting that permanent spot, I see.”

“Trying to.” She glances at him, motioning with her head to the counter where the mail now lays open. “What have you got there?”

He reaches for the half empty popcorn bowl resting by her side, stealing a few pieces and quickly tossing them into his mouth. “A wedding invitation.”

“Ew, who eats popcorn with tea.” His friend states, moving the bowl to her other side, out of his reach  “A wedding? Since when do you have friends who have their lives together?”

“It’s an old mate, back from school days and all that.” Harry shrugs. “Haven’t spoken to him in a bit, though.”

“Are you going?”

“Think so.” He takes another sip, unpocketing his phone from his sweats. “Will be good to see everyone again.”

Julia simply hums in response, and, as Harry focuses his attention on his phone, he can hear her typing resume. For a while they stay like this, as he scrolls mindlessly through his social media feeds, even answering a text or two --which is rare for Harry since he often left messages unopened for days - except for a comment or two coming from her side of the couch. Every now and then he glances up to the bigger screen, either when he’s asked for his opinion on someone’s outfit or when Julia wants to know whose designer is behind it -- and Harry prides himself on recognizing most of them, having studied their collection campaigns for his marketing class in his last term. What calls his full attention, however, is the mention of a particular name, making his ears perk up and his eyes glue themselves to the screen.

It’s not unusual for him to hear your name, of course it isn’t, as you have settled on  top of several radio spots for the past year or two. He’s grown used to hearing your name plenty, but it doesn’t get any less odd for him, to have what once was such a familiar face  become such a distant yet still reocurring figure.

Going through a breakup, especially when it’s your first relationship, is already hard enough as it is. Harry reckons most people probably do their best to distance themselves in order to heal and move on, try not to think of the person who hurt them. But it’s not like he had much of a choice with you. He could delete all your pictures from his computer, wipe it all , hide the letters and polaroids in a box under his bed and he still wouldn’t be able to run away from you. It’s as if the moment he was out of your life you’d grown bigger than either of you could’ve imagined as you lied together on his bedroom floor. In a matter of a year or so your name was up in lights, your face greeted him everywhere he went; that being printed in the front of the gossip magazines lined together as he checked out his groceries, or at an editorial cover as he studied for his design theory class. There wasn’t much of an escape.

It was hard in the beginning, of course it was. Mainly  when he inevitably had to read the scandalous headlines about you being all over some big haired bloke from a boyband at some extravagant party in West Hollywood. Yeah, that was a hard one. But as most things in life, Harry had to get over it eventually. And with you quickly becoming more and more out of his reach, your image being just as sweet as it is strange of a memory to him, he  learned how to desensitize himself.

That  doesn’t mean he’s not curious, though, which is what shifts his focus to the tvonce he hears your name. Sure enough, there you are, the most familiar stranger he’s ever known. Your smile is discreet, but still charming in a way that makes whoever’s watching you want to know what kind of secrets you’re keeping, and Harry can’t help but wonder as well. He doesn’t recognize the emerald sequined dress you have on (and makes a mental note to check later who it from) and he figures it was probably custom made for you, as it hugs your body perfectly. He doesn’t mean to notice that, he really doesn’t, but as the camera zooms in, panning from your golden heels, up your leg that appears from the side slit of your skirt as you walk down the carpet, and stopping at your face, still sporting a smirk as you divide your attention between different photographers screaming your name, he can’t help but notice how good you look.

“Look at her.” Julia sighs, snapping Harry out of his thoughts. That's when he realizes he’s slouched forward.. Relaxing back into the cushions, he takes another gulp of his tea, which has gotten considerably cooler as it rests forgotten on his lap. “Don’t blame you for being her groupie, I would too, if I had the chance.”

“Wasn’t a fucking groupie, I told you that.” Harry rolls his eyes at his friend, knowing her love for torturing him since she’s learned the information of his past relationship.  “We dated before she even set foot in America.”

“So?” She looks at him, eyebrows shooting towards her hairline as she keeps nudging. “You were her first groupie before she even had them.”

He shakes his head. “Enough with the groupie talk, please, not in front of my tea.”

“I’ll never fully process the fact that you dated her.” Julia pushes the topic, her hand motioning to your image still being shown on the telly. “You got to kiss her and everything! Wild.”

“Julia, can you stop talking about my ex and write whatever it is that you have to.”

“Not when your ex is one of the biggest names in the music industry, no.” Julia pauses and, for a moment, Harry thinks she might’ve finally dropped the subject. However, once he doesn’t hear the sound of her fingers going back to typing on her computer he looks back at her, catching  her eyes still glued to the screen, her brows set in a frown.  He can almost hear the wheels inside her head turning. He focuses back on his phone, saying a silent prayer that whatever it is she’s thinking, she’ll just drop.. His wishes are futile, however, when she speaks up again, her words coming out slow but full of intention, “Is she friends with this dude that invited you to his wedding?”

“Julia…”

“I’m serious! Imagine if you bump into her at their wedding!” She fully turns to him, her voice pitching in excitement at the scenario.

“Even if she did get invited.” Harry starts, refusing to meet her eyes. “I doubt she’d go.”

“Why not?”

“Cause she’s one of the biggest names in the music industry? Haven’t you just said that?”

“Right.” The girl sits back on the couch, gnawing at her bottom lip before bursting again, “But what if?”

“She won’t.”

“You seem very sure of that.”

“And you’ve been reading too many romance novels.” He scoffs. “It’s starting to affect your perception of reality. It’s worrisome, really.”

“As if you didn’t watch The Notebook every day religiously before going to sleep.”

“Not everyday.”

The two friends keep pestering each other for a bit,  until the opening performance starts, signaling the beginning of the award show, and Julia had to focus back on her work . as the silence set in the room, except for Highway To Hell stretching around the walls, Harry let his mind zoom out, his flatmate’s words painting every inch of his brain.

He’d never let his mind wonder what it would be like to see you again. Would you even recognize him? No. And even if you did, , he’d probably become as much of a far-off memory like you have to him. One of those people you think about once or twice after it happened and greets the nostalgic feeling as it embraces you in a brief moment, quickly moving on to more important things. Surely, you have plenty more important things to worry  about than your ex boyfriend that you left in your hometown  four years ago.

Shaking his head, Harry scolds himself for letting his mind wander. It has been five years, for god’s sake! He’s moved on. He has! But there’s still the tiny voice, whispering annoyingly in the back of his head, like an insistent child trying to get him to listen to them, saying it over and over. What if?

//

Golden specks of sunlight peeked from the cracks of the bricked buildings outside, shining through his window as a silent reminder of the sun setting in the horizon, and you knew it was almost time for you to go home. You ignored it, though. Only snuggling back on the arm resting behind your head as you laid on the ground next to him, focusing on the feeling of his fingers playing with yours that rest on top of your stomach, and the soothing voice of Joni Mitchell singing softly in the background.

Harry was adorably excited to show you the vinyl he got from the weekend getaway with his father and stepmum, pulling you up the stairs before you could even properly greet his mother in the kitchen. You sat on his bed as he went through all the relics he managed to snatch at the local fair he had visited. Barely holding back a smile, you bit your lip as you watched him ramble about a vintage camera he got from a dutch lady. His hair had grown a bit, you’d noticed, messy curls poking out of his head, dancing slightly as he talked. Once he got to the record, you didn’t shy away from placing a peck on his cheek, right next to the dimple the deepened after your action, asking him to play it for you, as you reached for his pillow and placed it on the usual spot you’d hangout right under his window.

He was telling you about some new paint set he wanted, lying on his back looking mindlessly at the ceiling. You closed your eyes, listening to the sound of the words slipping easily out of his lips along with the sound of his breath as you moved your head closer to his chest. What made you blink your eyelids open again was when he stopped talking, a new song starting with gentle strokes of an acoustic guitar.

Looking up at him, you met his gaze already staring back at you, and you adjusted your position, turning on your side so you could take a better look. He was wearing his favorite navy blue Fleetwood Mac tee, one you’d gifted him on his sixteenth. You loved how it enhanced the color of his eyes, and you were reminded of it once again when you looked into his jade irises, almost forgetting to take a breath as you did so.

“What’s this one called?” You broke the silence, softening your voice as you were afraid to speak too loudly, almost feeling as if you were interrupting Mitchell’s declaration of love.

“A Case of You.” Harry answered, turning his body to face yours.

You didn’t say anything back, instead, you took a minute to pay attention to the lyrics that painted the four walls of his room at that moment.

I remember that time you told me / You said, “Love is touching souls.” / Surely you touched mine / Cause it pours out of me

“It’s beautiful.” You whispered, not daring to look away from him.

Harry hummed in agreement, his hand reaching up to move a strand of your hair away from your face. Smiling softly, he said, “‘S my favourite.” You watch him chew on his bottom lip, hesitating for a second before whispering, “I got something for you.”

Your smile  widens. “Really?” He nodded. “Why didn’t you tell me before?”

“Dunno.” He shrugged, looking down to where his fingers fidget with the hem of your shirt. “Didn’t know if you’d like it.”

“I’m sure I’ll love it, H.” You sit up, crossing your legs under your bum, a spark of excitement and curiosity shooting through your body as you rush him, “Go get it!”

“Okay, okay, calm down, love.” He laughs, sitting up from his position and reaching back for his backpack resting on top of the bed.

You watched as he retrieved a small pale pink box, wrapped with a silver ribbon, tied in a pretty bow on top. There was a nervous hesitance to him as he handed you the gift, you noticed a reddish tone painting his cheeks, it was subtle, you could’ve easily missed it if the light wasn’t shining on his face, still, you couldn’t help but reach forward, pressing your lips to the tip of his nose. It’s quick, but you still earned a giggle that escaped his throat, mumbling afterwards, urging you to unwrap the box as he bit down his lip.

Wrapping your fingers on the ribbon that sealed the package, you swiftly untied it, allowing it to fall on the carpet next to you. A gasp eased out of your lips as soon as you opened the lid, revealing a heart-shaped gold pendant hanging on a delicate chain.

“‘S a locket.” He revealed quietly, eyes jumping from the jewelry in your hands to your face, watching your reaction. “It’s empty now, can put whatever you want in it.”

You touched the piece gently, feeling the texture of the engraved flowers under your fingertips, there’s a knot threatening to tighten your throat at the tenderness of his action but you swallow it back in order to speak, even though your words tremble out of your lips,

“I love it.”

You reach your free hand to touch the necklace being presented to you, craning your neck the slightest bit - as to not disturb Amie’s work on your brows - to get a better look at the piece. It’s a short golden chain, white crystal stones placed carefully around it. As you hold it in your palm you can tell how delicate it is, and you guess it’ll probably barely be noticeable as you strut your way down the red carpet in a couple of hours, but you assume the simple jewelry will make the whole difference in your headshots. With a final look you give a small nod to the short brunette still watching you closely, reaffirming your approval as you gently hand the necklace back to her.

She disappears from your sight in a beat and you relax back on your seat, not bothering to say anything else. It’s clear that everyone else has realized by now that you’re in a mood (if your unusual silence isn’t a big indication, you’re sure your face says it all), as they’re mostly speaking with each other and leaving you be. Acting like a stuck up egocentric diva was never in your plans to start the day of your first attendance at the Grammy Awards. It’s not like you can help it, though, but you try your hardest to make up for it. You force a smile for a bit too long, say please and thank you way too many times in a voice that makes you cringe to yourself. When they ask how you’re doing, you simply brush it off as a bad night of sleep.

Well, that isn’t entirely a lie, you are tired. The routine of staying out until dawn to catch a nap for maybe two or three hours everyday seems to have finally taken a toll on you. And of course it would all hit you like a brick in what feels like one of the most important nights of your career. Because why the fuck wouldn’t it?

Still, you know the main reason for your sour mood has got to do with much more than just a burnout due to a thread of poor sleep nights. You know the reason lies deep within the prior months that led to where you are now. But it’s not like you’re ready to unravel any of that.

So, with barely three hours of sleep under your belt, you woke up with your eyes still sticky from the previous night (due to the poor job you did on taking off your mascara before slipping under the covers) to be met with the high ceiling of the penthouse suite you booked for the week. Most times, when waking up after a night out, mind still buzzing and tongue slightly numb from the alcohol, it’s a slow rise. It starts with lazy blinks and a slow recollection of your surroundings, a lethargic way your head has to process the fact that it needs to start working again. But this morning you didn’t have that privilege of easing your way into consciousness. No. Your eyes snapped open with the sudden invasion of sunlight into your room, the chirping sound of voices coming muffled from the living room.

It’s almost noon, a voice lets you know, coming into your eyesight with a long floral dress flowing all the way down her calves, the sleeves tight on her elbows as she types something on her phone. Sonia, your manager, knows you too well as to not coarse you into waking up, but rather doing the most efficient way, that being not to give an option unless getting out of bed. She doesn’t waste a second before pulling you covers back, the action causing a whine to escape from your lips as the cool air of the AC embraces your body like a bucket of cold water.

“There’s breakfast waiting for you outside.” She gazed up at you, her eyes nudging into a motherly glare at your state.

“Coffee?” Is all you mumbled, sitting up.

“Later. Right now caffeine is not ideal for your headache.”

“I don’t—“

“There’s ibuprofen.” She motioned with her head to the nightstand right next to you, her attention back to the phone in her hand as it started to buzz. “And water. Lots of it. I’m sending in hair and makeup in ten.”

In reality, you had just about five minutes to wash away the night before you heard a commotion outside the bathroom door. There was just enough time for you to swallow back the painkiller that was settled in the nightstand as a good morning gift and to strip out of your clothes when people started knocking on the door. You ignored it, though, as your head pulsed with the continuous streak of sleepless nights and strong drinks and the cold rush of water from the waterfall shower did very little to lighten up your mood. And it doesn’t help that those five minutes were the last relaxing moment of the day before people started rushing in like a violent stream of water.

So, yes, to say you’re moody can be an understatement.

Right now you’ve been munching on an apple for the past half hour, using it as an excuse to not barge into conversations. The leather of the chair you’ve been on for what feels like forever now (which is code for about a full hour) is starting to stick to your thighs as your robe has ridden up your body. There’re what feels like hundreds of hands on you. Pulling at your hair, swiping products on your face, poking onto your nails. Their voices every minute or so smoothing in request as if you’re one of those voice controlled dolls of sorts — turn your head, stay still, close your eyes, don’t move.

This is a process you’ve always found near excessive, and probably your least favorite part of going to an event of such importance. Recalling the first time you had this many people in charge of helping you get ready, you remember the excitement. It was easy, being the center of attention without having to lift a single finger. However, it did lose its glamour rather quickly. You like your independence way too much. That ranges from being able to get ready by yourself to going alone to a cocktail party.

Though you know there’s not much you can do about it, so you just relax back, knowing the less you think about it, the quicker it’ll be over.

The moment you let your eyes fall closed, feeling the smooth brush color your eyelids, you hear it. It’s faint, and you have to focus on the low sound of the speaker in the background, under the rushed voices of what feels like too many people in the room, to really hear it. But once you do, your ears perk up as the oh so familiar voice starts to sing, and you can’t help but let your eyes snap back open at the opening verse of A Case of You. This earns a small scolding from Amie but you don’t register it, instead, you turn your head to the side to listen to it better.

“Whose playlist is this?” You ask, lips twitching upwards as the first chorus comes up.

“Think it’s Mia’s.” Someone from behind you answers it with a slight pull to your hair.

It takes you a second too long to answer her at first, the melody embracing you like a nostalgic hug, “‘S a good one.” You nod, not knowing who Mia is but still appreciating her choice.  “I love this song.”

“I remember, back in college, when my ex broke up with me as he was dropping me off from my cousin’s birthday party,” Amie starts, interrupting your moment as she holds your chin between her fingers, gently positioning you to face her and you let your eyes fall closed again. “I sat down in my dorm, put on Joni Mitchell and cried for the rest of the night.”

“Ouch, that must’ve been harsh.” You breathe out a laugh, the action worsening the throb in your head and you immediately fall sober again, recalling your own experience of crying listening to her disks.  “Good choice, though. It’s a good song to cry to.”

“Sure is.”

Amie quickly strikes another conversation with the girls in charge of your hair and you fall silent again. The song still plays softly in the background, but as much as you try to focus on it, to let the comforting words of the familiar song detach you from the position you’re in, make you forget about the suffocating feeling of having this many people so up on your personal space, you can barely hear it under their voices. A loud laugh disrupts your attempt and you have to refrain from cringing in frustration.

Suddenly, you feel yourself become too aware of the tangle of noises swiping around the place. The door to the hotel room opens and closes a couple of times. Muffled sounds of steps rushing around on the carpeted floor. Someone calls a name from the living room area. The woman in charge of your nails chats with the one doing your hair as she finishes her work (giving you at least one bit of relief). The overwhelming feeling comes back, hitting you like a brick, and you start feeling too hot under the ring light. You’re about to speak up, excuse yourself for a moment so you can walk to the balcony and feel the outdoor air untangle the knot in your chest. But before you do, you hear a familiar voice coming from behind you.

“How are we feeling here?” Sonia appears in front of you as you blink your eyes open (slowly, as to not mess up Amie’s work on your eyeshadow). She holds up a cup of coffee in your direction and you accept it gladly, holding it carefully with your freshly manicured nails.

“We’re certainly feeling.” You take a sip, wincing slightly at the hot beverage. “Sorry, I don’t know what I’m saying.”

“Nervous?”

The question makes you suddenly become too aware of the nerves tugging at your belly, like when you only feel the sting of a scratch one someone points it out. The reminder of your first time attending the ceremony as an official Grammy nominee gives your stomach a funny twist. However, it’s not your anxiousness that’s bugging you as you feel another gentle tug at your hair. But you choose not to voice your annoyance, afraid of sounding too much of a diva (something you’ve been policing yourself closely not to do for the past few months), only letting out a slight wince. “A bit.”

“It’ll be alright.” She places a hand on your shoulder, giving it a reassuring squeeze. “Not that different from other award shows, you’ll see.”

“I guess.”

“Oh!” Sonia exclaims, unlocking her phone on her other hand. “I’ve changed your flight back home like you asked.” She scrolls for a bit before stopping with a sip of her own coffee.  “You’ll be leaving on the twenty first, is that good?”

“It’s alright.” You sigh, knowing it’s not the ideal scenario you had planned, to catch an early flight the day after your birthday, but being used to the hectic agenda and the sudden change of plans.

“The driver will pick you up at five.” She gives you a look. “In the morning.”

“I know. I know.”

“That’s sorted, then.” She locks her phone again, turning her attention to Amie, who’s brushing a product gently against your cheekbone. “How much longer do you think?”

“Give me fifteen and she’s all yours.” Amie peeks up at the older woman.

“Perfect.” She smiles back at you. “You look beautiful, and you’ll do great tonight.”

“Thanks, Sunny.” You grin at the brim of your cup, addressing her by the nickname you’d given the first week she started working for you.

True to her word, Amie finishes off her work not much longer after Sonia disappears from the room after turning around the threshold leading into the living room area. And, just as you take the last sip of your coffee, while scrolling mindlessly through your phone in an attempt to keep your mind distracted, you hear a commotion coming from the other side of the walls.

It takes another minute for you to get up from the spot you’ve been sitting for what feels like hours now to go investigate. You enter the living room being greeted with a trail of croissants, and you take one, biting carefully before letting out a satisfied hum.

From this moment on, time moves relatively quickly. Soon enough, you’re standing in front of a full body mirror, feeling the poke of the last few adjustments in your gown. It’s a sequined emerald gown, one you’d find a bit too much of a safe choice upon seeing it at first, but as you see how it hugs perfectly at your curves, you’re sold.

You arrive at the red carpet with twenty minutes to spare before the show starts — not too early to be quickly forgotten by the ones that arrive after you, but also not too late to be glazed over. The Los Angeles January sky is cloudless, but despite being in the peak of wintertime the air surrounding you is warm, almost too warm, even.

The screams quickly swallow you, some coming from people on the other side of the street, waiting for a glance of whoever’s stepping out of their cars at the entrance, others are hidden behind bright flashes that you can force yourself to look at for too long. You wave, giving the same smile you’ve perfected over the years, the one that Amie says makes it look like you hold all the secrets of the world, but still friendly enough to avoid headlines about being too pretentious.

A girl, not much younger than you it seems, directs you further down the carpet. You pay little mind to her, only directing a small smile as you blindly follow her steps. Scanning your eyes through the crowd gathered before the entrance, you manage to catch familiar faces all around. Everyone’s at their most presentable, and you feel like, even if you didn’t know any of them, you would’ve easily been able to pick out the stars as they parade around the place like sore thumbs. It’s the Hollywood glow, one that can easily be spotted on their stuffed chests and their cheshire cat smiles, bodies clad in thousand dollar fabric as they spill out the big names behind it. You’re not different from any of them, you’re aware.

It takes longer than you’d expected to finally walk inside the Staples Center, following behind the same girl that greeted you when you made your entrance. Once she directs you to your seat, you hold back a relieved sigh to find Ayame standing right next to it -- you had requested to be seated next to her but considering her tendencies of skipping red carpet for the sake of arriving fashionably late (her words) you’d been scared you’d have to sit through your anxiety by yourself for a good chunk of the show.

Your brows shoot towards your hairline to the sight of her newly dyed bright orange hair, the locks gelled back, allowing her neon colored eye makeup to stand out on her face. She’s in a black latex dress, the silhouette mimicking a classical 50s gown with an off shoulder neckline. The top part of it seems to be clad so tightly to her body that you mindlessly hold your breath for a moment as you approach her.

It takes a while for her to notice you as she chats excitedly with someone you recognize as the lead singer of some pop punk band you haven’t really tried to learn the name of (but you do know is nominated with you for Best Pop Group/Duo Performance). The second her eyes meet yours, however, she’s rushing the couple steps to close the distance between you two, pulling you into a hug as she squeals your name. Her excitement is one of the first things to bring a genuine smile to your face all day, truth to be told.

“Hi, Aya.” You mutter over her shoulder, minding where you place your hands to hug her back so as to not mess with her hair.

“Hey you.” She pulls away, taking a step back to take in your appearance. You’re aware you two probably look like quite the duo together, her out of the box choice of a look certainly contrasting with your safe option (one that can look quite plain as you stand next to her, you realize.) But she doesn’t pay any mind to the antithesis, instead, only clapping her hands together as she moves her gaze down your body. “You look so beautiful! Oh my god, your dress even matches my eye!”

“That’s true.” You giggle (a real one) at her observation, taking notice of the way her thick green eyeliner curls down her cheekbone. “Guess we coordinated even without meaning to.”

“Oh god!” Her shoulders lump, eyes softening, and her lips plumping into a small pout. “Please, will you ever be able to forgive me for not coming with you?”

“Aya, it’s fine.” You reassure her.

From the moment your name started circling around different magazines as one of the favorite’s for snatching a couple nominations, Aya told you how she wanted to be with you for your first official attendance at the awards. You chatted over glasses of wine and endless bowls of oyakodon (on those rare nights that’s just the two of you in her New York apartment and she’d decide to try teaching you yet another japanese dish), making plans for today, daydreaming about getting ready together and walking down the carpet with linked arms and matching smiles. But this was before Aya signed for her Chanel campaign, and before you stopped feeling excited about mingling outside your comfort zone.  

“Nothing I’ve never done before.”

“I know but it’s your first Grammy Awards!” She sighs, her voice on the verge of a whine. “You’re the star of the night!”

There’s a sound announcement that the show is merely five minutes away from starting that cuts you as your lips part. As you two move to take your seats by the center-left of the main stage, you say, “Not sure about that one.”

You feel her gaze from the corner of your vision as you glance around the space, watching the biggest names in the industry pacing around just an arm reach away from you. After a second, you meet her concerned eyes, and when she speaks up again her voice is gentle, verging on cautious. “How are you?”

You look away from her, picking at your nails for a moment before you realize you’re ruining the fresh manicure. With a shrug, you try to dodge from the real answer she’s looking for with her question. “Good. Nervous. Tired.”

“Grumpy.” A teasing smile tugs at your friend’s lips.

“Tired.” You repeat.  “Didn’t really get any sleep, if I’m honest. Think I might actually pass out this time around.”

“Were you out last night?” She hesitates before continuing, her voice lowering an octave. “With Dora?”

“We just went to a cocktail party, nothing too crazy.”

A photographer stops by, interrupting you to take a picture of the two of you next to each other. As soon as he’s gone you look back at Aya, she’s the one not meeting your eye this time.“I don’t like her.”

You sigh. “I know.”

“I don’t.” She shifts in her seat, looking down at her lap before gazing up at you. “I just don’t think she has your best interests in mind.”

“And I don’t think this is the best place for us to discuss this. Again.”

“You’re right.” Aya nods, more to herself than to you. “Tonight is about you. Screw Dora and screw--”

The music playing around the arena pauses, and you both know this means the ad break is over. Cameras start moving around you and that’s enough for Aya to drop the subject and relax back on her seat. With the lights dimmed and the attention set on stage, it’s much easier for you to let your frown deepen for a moment as you take in the words she was about to say.

It takes just a minute for you to go back to your alert state, however, as a camera dances its way in front of you. A silent reminder of the eyes watching you all around.

The greater half of the show drags by and you find yourself zooming out more times than you wish. You know that Aya notices, giving you the same concerned look when you take a beat too long to clap for someone’s speech, or when you keep repeating the same robotic movements during someone’s performance. Award shows are known for crawling their way to the end, but most times than not, you can easily carry yourself through it with not much yawning. But right now that’s shown to be a harder task than you thought, and you find yourself urging for something to keep you at ease (it’s why you like the Brits so much, at least there you could down a glass of tequila and let its warmth drown the nerves in your belly.)

What bugs you even more is the fact that this was supposed to be the best night of your life. The weight of its importance should be translated into flaps of butterflies in your stomach not a tangle of thoughts clouding your brain. And the pressure you put on yourself to force some enjoyment out of you only helps make it harder for you to fight a crease to form between your brows.

The first time you let go of living inside your head is when the sound announcement for your first category echoes around the arena during -- yet another -- commercial break. You’re talking with Dua Lipa, exchanging the formality of compliments on each other's work (in your weak attempt at networking when you don’t feel like talking), when you hear it. There’s an electric spark that shoots down your spine, and you’re sure it's evident in your face as she comments on your nomination, earning a nervous laugh in return. It jolts you like a flip of a switch, and you have to hold back from bouncing on your feet at the prospect of finally allowing yourself to enjoy the night. Your night, you correct yourself, hopeful.

Around you, cameras come alive again as you reach your seat. It’s like your whole body feels numb, every cell electrified with anticipation in a way that the only thing you can focus on is the speed of your heartbeat. The rush of your bloodstream spreads warmth from the apple of your cheeks to the tip of your toes. You realize Aya’s hand is in yours when she squeezes it tightly, forcing you to share a quick glance at her to find an expectant smile adorning her face.

It’s only when they call the nominees for Best New Artist that you realize you never really thought you had a chance of snatching it. Maybe in a way you tried to keep your expectations low, knowing the set of talents that share the category nominations with you. So you wait for them to call someone else’s name. You prepare to put on your best smile, to clap politely for the winner. But that’s not what happens.

Because they call out your name.

Aya hugs you so tightly it brings tears to your eyes, your mind suddenly snapping back into reality and you realize that yes, this is really happening. You’re sure you float all the way upstage, you mind blank and your hands shaky as you accept the statuette. In a few days, people are gonna ask you about this moment, how it was looking back at the arena with your new Grammy in hands to give your acceptance speech, and you’re just gonna laugh it off charmingly about how you had it at the tip of your tongue. In reality, the moment you gaze back at the ocean of people, all in their black tuxedos and extravagant gowns, the only thing you focus is to fight back the knot in your throat, keeping your voice surprisingly steady as you barely register a single word that leaves your mouth.

Still shaking, you walk backstage, accepting congratulatory words and receiving a couple hugs along the way. You talk to reporters and take pictures, words coming a bit throaty as you allow yourself to feel a bit teary. The award feels heavy in your hand, the golden record player glimmering back at you, the shot of adrenaline waving off as you stare at the blank spot waiting to be engraved with your name.

Once you’re back on your seat, the buzz in your body starts to wear off. You feel your phone going off in your clutch and, when the familiar signal for the commercial break goes off, you reach for it. The screen lights up immediately, showing a thread of messages coming up at the second. You unlock it, feeling the urge to call someone as you let your thumb glaze over it before tapping the phone app. It opens up, showing a couple of missed calls from when you were backstage that you make a mental reminder to check back on it later. You look at the screen expectantly, as if waiting for something to happen when it hits you. You have no one to call.

Looking up, you try desperately to catch some friendly eyes, but you come back empty handed. Aya has gone backstage to get ready for her performance, and Sunny, along with other people from your team, have taken this time to celebrate, mingling around the place.

The messages are still lighting up on your screen as you blink back the tears that now threaten to fall down your cheeks, your chest heaving when the knot gets tighter. It’s a bit ironic, you think, the amount of people reaching out to you and yet you’ve never felt this alone. This was all you wanted, right here in your hands. All you focused on. Your life has never been better. Climb all the way to the mountaintop, isn’t that what they say? Then why does it feel so lonely?

There’s all these people, smiling at you, offering their kind words. Celebrating your achievement. But none of them feel like someone you can rely on, and you can’t help but wonder:

Shouldn't you have someone that you could call?

//

Harry’s not having a good day.

He’s not having a good week, actually.  Just as he’s stuck on a hectic routine in the middle of arranging costumes for the next musical (they’re doing Beauty and the Beast which requires a lot of layering that, as pretty as he finds the final result, can be a pain to sew) he managed to come down with a cold. So, whereas he wanted nothing more than to take a couple days off to snuggle under his newly acquired electric blankets while binging the new season of How To Get Away With Murder, the dress rehersal dates are just around the corner, so he just had to ignore his runny nose and throbbing head in order to rush into the final tailoring of the costumes. And if being sick wasn’t enough to throw him off a curve, he’s been having an special difficult time with Lumière’s full-skirted coat, his hazed mind causing him to misplace the golden laser cut detailing twice, as well as poke himself with the needle enough times to leave the skin of his finger red and sore. All of this also warranted him three scoldings from Lisa, who’s the head costume designer and whom Harry had prided himself on never getting on her bad side, so to say he’s been grouchy all week is an understatement.

On top of it all, like the bright red cherry on top of the shit cake that was his week, he’s late. He’s late to a wedding he’d all but forgotten about, and if it wasn’t for the annoyingly loud alarm reminder he’d set on his phone (that rang conventionally just a minute after he finally got to lay back on his bed after getting home from work -- he doesn’t usually work on saturdays but Lisa messaged him about an emergency with Belle’s dress, so he’d spent the entire morning hopping around fabric stores) he’d have probably slept right through it.  Harry thought about rain checking it, literally, as he hit the snooze button just as gentle raindrops started tapping against his window. He actually considered it. But as soon as he let his eyes fall closed the guilt started settling in. He had confirmed his presence directly with the groom when he called to send his congratulations after receiving the invitation. He gave him his word, and he’ll stick by it.

But it still doesn’t help the fact that he’s late. Which is why he’s rushing up the escalator on the tube station. The rain hasn’t gotten any better from the moment he’d jumped out of bed, still showering from the sky much like a last goodbye from winter as it blends into spring. This time he took Julia on her offer, grabbing her umbrella before leaving home -- and making sure to avert his eyes from the tacky imprints on the fabric to keep himself from cringing, as the only reason for him to be taking it in the first place is to keep his hair and his clothes as intact as possible (at times like this is when he’s the most thankful for the degree chose, because he’s not quite sure how else he’d be able to get his hand on a suit at the last minute if he hadn’t had one he’d tailored himself on his first year.)

He gets a few looks as he stumbles on the last step, a line of apologies rushing out of his lips while he struggles to open the umbrella. When it finally flings open with a thud, the gush of wind prepares to take it away but is prevented from doing so as Harry tightens his grip on the handle, he checks his phone again for the time. The screen lights up with the indication that he’s got five minutes for the ceremony and Harry mutters a cuss as he remembers the venue is a ten minute walk from the station, so he picks up his pace, the sound of the heels of his boots against the cobblestone blending with the pitter-patter of raindrops hitting the ground.

He knows he’s arrived as soon as he turns around the corner. The 18th-century building takes over most of the block, its stoned walls take a camel tone contrasting with the black of the iron railing that hugs its front--only giving space to two dark oak wooden columns located on each side of the front entrance. There’s a small group stepping out of a black taxi, a suited-clad man helps a woman out of the vehicle as she holds onto the skirt of her navy blue gown to prevent it from dragging it into the damp concrete sidewalk. They’ve clearly just arrived for the ceremony that’s set to happen in just a couple minutes now, and Harry can’t help but let out a relieved sigh as he realises he’s just about made it in time.

Letting his pace slow down to a jog, his shoulders relax as he tries to even out his breathing as he approaches the group in an attempt to not give away the fact that he was properly running for the past five blocks. But just as he does so, as a stronger gust of wind whips against his face. Harry barely has time to process it as the umbrella in his hand inverts its shape, the wires holding the fabric together snapping broken. It’s so sudden that it takes him backwards a couple steps, a high pitched yelp falling from his lips as the raindrops start to hit his face like needles, quickly sinking through the fabric of his suit.

“Fucking--”

His struggle catches the attention of the group standing outside the building, and he can feel their heads turning in his direction from the corner of his vision. There're a few repressed laughs that still make their way to his ears, and one of the men speaks up, his eyes lit in amusement, “Alright, mate?”

Harry glances down at the broken umbrella in his hand, his other arm coming up in a weak attempt to shield him from the drops now sliding down his cheeks. He looks up, clicking his tongue. “I’m good.”

There’s a shame in his walk as he makes his way to a trash can right next to the group, giving them a small nod before throwing the now-useless tool inside of it. He tries not to think about how perfect it would be for the earth to swallow him whole as he jogs again the few steps towards the entrance of the house.

At least now he’ll never have to look again at that tasteless thing every time he enters his flat, he tries to reason.

Thankfully, the weather consists mostly of sporadic gusts of wind, rather than a proper rainstorm. So, by the time he reaches the covered white-painted entrance, the thin droplets of water were only good for dampening his hair and shoulders (and tangling a few knots into his strands that he feels once he runs his hand through it), but not powerful enough to soak through his clothes.

“Good afternoon, sir.” A lady greets him as he steps inside the venue, she holds a cream clipboard on the crook of her arm, hugging it against her body. Her freshly dyed red locks contrast with the beige tone of the ambient, matching with her earth-brown dress. A smile stretches in her face, accentuating her age lines, but it doesn’t quite reach her eyes, brows shooting up in surprise as if she didn’t expect him to walk in.

“Afternoon.” Harry reaches his hand to push back his hair, nose scrunching as he feels a few droplets slide down his neck. The lady looks up at him expectantly, her eyes moving down not so subtly, smile tightening as she takes in his appearance. He clears his throat, speaking up when she doesn’t offer any response, “Uhm… I’m here for Michael and Elise… For their wedding, I mean.”

“Right!” She nods, and Harry notices the way her eyes glance down at his blazer one more time before she focuses on the clipboard, moving it so it stands on her eyesight. She opens her mouth but before any word can leave her lips her hand reaches up to press her finger against the ear device, brows furrowing in concentration as she listens in. He stands there awkwardly for a moment,waiting for her instructions as she nods along to whatever’s being said. “I just have one more guest coming in.” She mumbles into the device, shooting a quick glance to down the hallway, before she focuses back on him, her voice coming a bit rushed. “May I have your name, please?”

“Uh, course, yeah. Styles.”

She gazes down at the list in her hand, flipping the pages as her eyes scan through the names. “Harry Styles?” He offers a hum in agreement as he watches her check his name. She looks back up, motioning towards the end of the long hallway, where there are double glass doors, only one of them open, leading to what seems like an outdoor area. “You can just head  straight ahead to the courtyard for the ceremony. The reception afterwards will be upstairs.”

“Alright, thanks.” He has half a mind to ask her for the men’s room so he can at least fix his undoubtedly rumpled appearance but, before he even thinks of doing so, she already has her back to him, taking long strides towards a closed door located to the side and disappearing inside of it. He huffs out a breath, eyes widening slightly as he mumbles to himself. “Okay, then.”

Harry walks through a threshold leading to a second part of the hallway, this one with a darker cast to it, thanks to the walnut tone of the wooden walls, passing by a number of ash grey armchairs set neatly on each side of the corridor -- looking so sleek that Harry wonders if anyone has ever used them for anything other than a decoration piece. The low mesh of voices invades the indoor space, getting just slightly louder once he enters the courtyard area.

The glass door he enters from leads to the right side of the seating plan, all the white wooden chairs with their backs turned to him (thankfully, as he doesn’t really feel like making a grand entrance to announce how late he is). He notices another set of double glass doors to his left that are set right at the center, a tan colored carpet stretching from it all the way to the altar, and, opposite to where he stands, a white piano is being played, the soft melody serving as background noise. The last few rolls of seats near him are mostly empty, apart from a few people that chose the ones closest to the aisle, so Harry manages to sneak his way to a chair by the far end without catching anyone’s attention.

Once he’s finally able to relax back into the -- not so comfortable -- seat, there’s a relieved sigh that escapes his lips unintentionaly, and he finally allows himself to take a better look at his surroundings. The first thing that he notices as he stretches his neck (in an attempt to relieve some tension he’s been holding throughout the entire day) is a glass roof serving as a shield from the raindrops that still fall stubbornly from the sky. It’s definitely a semi-new addition to the construction, Harry reckons, as it gives a modern touch to the historical building. It’s almost transfixing the way the metal structure bends in the shape of a simple mandala, one that’s now being colored with easing streaks of water running down its dome-esque build.

From where he chose to sit there’s not much of the rest room he can really make out, most of his vision being obstructed by a wall of heads. What he is able to catch sight of is the waterfall fountain standing tall right behind the altar, the blanket of water falling along the stoned wall is so clear that one could easily miss it if it wasn’t for the lights located right above of it, bright and shimmering in contrast to the dim lighting of the rest of the room. The sound of it is soothing, like an indoor drizzle, and it blends so perfectly with the melody of the piano that Harry wonders if the man playing it is even aware of himself doing it. Right next to it, at the opposite far end of the space, is large light up letters spelling the word LOVE in a yellowed light. It’s something that he’s certain he could easily find corny if he didn’t consider himself a hopeless romantic of sorts.

Which also can justify why he’s not able to keep his eyes dry throughout most of the ceremony.

It starts just about a minute after he’s settled on his seat, barely having time to sit back before he finds himself standing up again with the rest of the crowd. And, from the moment Harry caught sight of the groom's face as the bride finally made her entrance, he’s a goner. He remembers as a young boy, being forced by his mum to attend a handful of weddings during his childhood, how boring he used to find them. Funny how time changes things, he feels like, as now he finds himself paying close attention to the whole thing, not being able to help the warmth that grows in his chest all the way to the tip of his nose as he feels his eyes getting glossier at every word being spoken. By the time the vows come up, the intimate declamations of love being spoken in teary voices and shaky hands, he gives up on trying to brush away the tears that tickle their way down his cheeks.

Once the newlywed couple strut their way back the aisle, rings now hugging their fingers and paired smiles stretching their cheeks, Harry’s managed to control his emotions to some degree. When they pass through him, just before disappearing inside the building hand in hand, the groom, Michael, meets his gaze, throwing his hand up in a wave-like gesture. Harry wonders for a second if he’d recognized his face amongst the certain euphoric feeling he’s in right now, or if it was just a blind gesture that he barely registered before disappearing inside the double doors. Regardless, he still brings his finger to his mouth to let out a sharp whistle in felicitation.

The second they’re out the door, everyone starts moving, and that’s when Harry realizes his seat also allows him to be the first out the door. Following the crowd that makes their way back into the building, it comes to him that he never really got the chance to find a toilet so he could check the damage left by the rain-- and he’s sure his emotional state throughout the last hour or so did very little to help him in that department.

So he keeps an eye out as he steps inside the same hallway he came from, this time being directed to an open door by the left that leads him to a staircase. His boots click against the marble steps as Harry climbs up along with the rest of the guests that make their way towards the reception, a light chatter taking over the building as the talk amongst themselves. All the doors along the way are closed, all except the one at the very front of the stairs as he reaches the third floor.

Harry looks around as he waits for the elderly couple in front of him to finish talking with the lady that’s standing in front of the open doors. All the rest of the floor is shut tight, and none of the double white painted doors really seem like they would lead to a bathroom. Soon enough, though, he’s being greeted by the receptionist of sorts.

Like the one when he first walked into the building, she also holds a clipboard close to her arm, and, with her hair being pulled up in a tight ponytail, he catches sight of a matching earpiece poking at the side of her face. He gives her his names and, once she starts directing him to his designated seat, he finds himself scanning the room for what he’s been looking for. He’s not planning on staying long enough to need to know which table he’s in, anyway, only wanting to express his felicitations to the couple before rushing back to his warm covers that call for his name.

“I’m sorry, which way is the toilet?” He interrupts the lady, who only raises her brows for a moment before shooting him a polite smile, gesturing to a set of doors not too far from where he stands. “Thank you.”

Upon entering further inside he notices, the space is much smaller than the courtyard. The room takes an ‘L’ shape, the turn of the place being a small platform to which he assumes must be the dance floor, considering the few musicians tucked in the far corner. Thanks to its shape the place is as narrow as it is long, not giving him much space to walk between the perfectly set tables. Harry doesn’t dwell on it too much, though, only rushing towards where he was directed, and quickly locking himself inside where it's indicated to be the men’s room.

Turning to the circular mirror to his side, Harry takes in his appearance with a sharp inhale. It’s not too bad, he thinks, more or less what he was expecting to find. His tearful state earlier has definitely enhanced the puffiness in his eyes that are still slightly glossy. There’s a reddish tone to his cheeks and at the tip of his nose, light circles under his eyes displaying his poor sleep schedule. He looks like someone who’s still recovering from a cold, if he’s honest. Which was to be expected. His hair, however, took most of the damage of the rain. What once were his neatly locks curling around his jawline, now sits a frizzy nest of strands tangled on each other.

It’s still damp when he runs his fingers through it, trying to undo the knots he finds on the way but, somehow he only makes it worse. He clicks his tongue, shaking his head at his reflection as he lets out a chuckle, thinking of a Friends reference.

He sighs in frustration at the stubborn mop of his hair refusing to stay in place, surrendering to its rebellion as he fetches the hair tie wrapped around his wrist. Maybe he should’ve just listened to his mum’s wishes and just cut it all out when he had the chance, it surely would’ve saved him the embarrassment of walking around a wedding reception with a fucking man bun. But Harry is as stubborn as he is proud, sticking to his statement of allowing his curls to run wild down his neck. So he might just have to suck it up to his knock off hipster image for the night, at least he’ll probably won’t see these people again until the next baby shower, he figures.

What Harry doesn’t expect as he walks out the foamy white restroom after his inner head monologue was to be met with the one person he was not expecting to encounter in a million years. Standing just a few steps away from him, hair neatly wrapped on top of your head, body clad in a pearly green cocktail dress, the top crossing tightly around your chest and its skirt drapes beautifully down your body. It’s Dior, Harry recognizes, and on any other occasion he would’ve been too transfixed on the piece to even notice the person sporting it. But not right now, no, there’s not a chance that the hiccup on his heartbeat and the sweat on his palms are due to the article of clothing.

He freezes on his spot, his eyes shutting tightly for a moment, hoping that when he opens up it’s all just a fragment of his -- very vivid -- imagination. Perhaps he’s falling ill again, and his fever is acting up, creating mirages to trick his mind. But as he opens his eyes that possibility seems to dissolve as quickly as it was created, and Harry’s convinced that this must be some twisted sick joke the universe is pulling on him. Not satisfied on making him walk in the rain after breaking his friend’s tacky umbrella, or having him attend a wedding reception with a fucking manbun of all things as well as a face that’s most likely resembling a dried apple. No, that didn’t seem to be enough of a punishment for him. Because on top of it all, here you are, standing just a few steps away from him, this time not through a screen of a printed paper but in flesh and bone.

It takes him a second to realize he’s been frozen on his spot for quite a while now, and as panic starts to zip through every cell of his body his gaze flickers around the room. He’s not sure what he’s looking for exactly, just trying to find a way out. But how, when he’s not even sure where he’s supposed to sit? His eyes find the lady that greeted him at the entrance and he cusses himself for not paying attention to her instructions during his rush, because now she’s standing on the other side of the room speaking with the musicians and there’s no way he can reach her without bumping into you first.

Why does this place have to be so fucking small?

His foot stops midstep, almost too afraid to move and catch your attention. Frowning to himself, Harry  He dares to look in your direction again. You’re turned towards him, but thankfully you’re too caught up in your conversation with a blonde lady, nodding along to whatever it is that she’s saying, that you don’t catch the way he lets his eyes linger in you for a beat too long.

Long enough that you undoubtedly feel the weight of his eyes on you as your gaze meets his, and Harry’s sure he could dig a hole for himself right through this perfectly waxed lightwood floor. But he can’t because you’re looking at him. You’re looking at him and your eyes widen just slightly with recognition, mouth agape as your lips form the shape of his name, your voice standing out amongst the mixture of others chatting around the room.

The girl talking to you turns around as she realizes your focus has gone elsewhere. Melanie. He remembers her from his chem class -- she dropped a whole beaker of hydrogen peroxide on her arm and had a skin burn, her round face is still the same but now she’s a blonde. He barely pays any attention to her, however, letting his eyes bounce back to yours just as quickly as they left, only to find you’re already making your way towards him.

“Harry?” You say again, this time he hears it loud and clear as you get closer, the sound of your voice saying his name again causing an electric spark to shoot down his spine. You stop just before him, as if you’re also unsure on how to properly greet him.

His lips part, taking a sharp breath as he tries to learn how to speak all over again, “H-hi.”

“Hi.” Your smile grows. “I didn’t know you’d be here, didn’t see you at the ceremony.”

“Yeah I-- I got rained on.” He lets out a nervous laugh, hand coming up instinctively to run through his hair but he stops it midair as he realizes his locks are tied back. Clearing his throat he speaks up in an attempt to cover the awkward gesture, “I mean, didn’t know you’d be here as well, you know? Figured you’d be busy and stuff.” He wants to punch himself.

“I made it just fine.” You throw him a playful wink, shooting a look over your shoulder to where Melanie now stands talking to someone else, her eyes still stealing a few curious glances in your direction. “Where are you seated? Figure it can’t be that far from where they seated me.”

“Uhm… To be honest, I’m not quite sure.” His eyes scan the room for a second before meeting yours again. “Was in a bit of a rush when I walked in, actually.”

You laugh, “Well that’s perfect, then, you can just sit with us!” You motion back to the table where you came from. “I’m sure you remember everyone from back in the day.”

“Sounds nice, yeah.” He looks back to where you’re pointing, trying to spot any other familiar face.

“Great! C’mon I’ll get you some champagne.” You catch him by surprise as you lock your arm around his, leading the short way towards the table.

True to your word, you hand him a flute of champagne just a beat after directing him to a seat that seems to be right next to yours. He doesn’t miss the way you’re able to do so with a simple smile shot towards one of the caterers, making him find his way to you in barely a second, handing you another flute without even questioning the fact that you already have one in your hand. Harry doesn’t really blame him, a smile from you would be enough to have him rushing to you, too.

As he figured, you take the seat right next to his, raising your glass briefly in a cheers with him before both of you relax back into your seats. The table is entirely decorated in different shades of white and gold, as well as the rest of the space. Honey orange plates are set in front of each of the seven seats, their tone matching perfectly the color of the fancy patterned curtains around the room that block the outside view. A full bouquet of flowers is set at the center, pale pink roses contrasting with bright red dahlias as they bloom proudly amongst the green leaves. Two other empty glasses are set in front of him, they shimmer under the light coming from two high-hanged chandeliers that illuminate the room, and Harry wonders what they could be for, as their shapes differ only so slightly from each other.

His thoughts are cut shortly as the empty seats quickly begin to fill, and he notices how your attention has gone back to Melanie who now takes the chair on your other side. She seems to have taken a liking to having your attention on herself, Harry notes. Soon enough, though, his own focus is called elsewhere, once he’s greeted by the other people that have taken the rest of the seats. You were right when you told him he’d recognize most of them, and Harry’s thankful that it mostly consists of people he actually used to be relatively close to back on his school days (not close enough to have survived the graduation mark, but still, most of them he still follows on a couple social media platforms, getting sporadic updates on their lives).

Jamie is the first of them to arrive, who takes the chair right next to Harry’s, startling him with a strong grip on his shoulder. “Styles?” His voice chirps in the air, and as recognition comes to him, Harry gets up, greeting him as he’s pulled in a side hug. “Almost didn’t recognize you, mate, are you wearing heels?” The man jokes at the clear height difference between them, earning a polite laugh from Harry.

“Kind of, actually.” He looks down at his foot as he bends his ankle, showing off the black leather boot that has a bit of a heel to it.

“Oh, there he is! Always the stylish one, it’s in the name, innit?” Harry huffs out a chuckle. “With the hair too, right? Heard those buns work wonders with the ladies.” The shorter man motions to Harry’s hair, giving him a playful shove as he laughs, looking back to catch the gaze of a woman that’s standing behind him. She gives Jamie a tight smile and a raise of brows, her eyes flickering from him to Harry. His laugh hauters, arm reaching back to grasp her waist,  “Yeah, yeah, H, this is my wife, Faye.”

At the mention of his spouse, Harry’s brows shoot toward his hairline for a second, lips parting before quickly recovering his shocked expression as he leans to greet her. It’s not that he’s surprised that Jamie has gotten himself a wife, somehow (well, a bit of that too) but it always comes like a bit of a jolt to find people his age settling with their life partner. Part of the shock comes mostly to Harry as he thinks back to himself, and he can’t help the comparison that comes as he’s never found himself nearly close to having someone so dearly close to his heart that he can think of such commitment.Well, he had you. But people always talk about how puppy love is usually supposed to be like that anyway. That first love, in which you’re still taking baby steps with the new found feeling of sharing your heart with someone else. The one when you’re too young to really know anything.

Harry still cherishes that feeling, which can also explain the effect you hold on him. But there’s something in him that wonders if he’ll ever have what he saw on Michael’s eyes when they locked gazes at the end of the ceremony. The bliss that comes with the knowledge that you don’t have to take those baby steps anymore. You don’t have to hold on to them in fear of what path they’ll take. If they’ll decide that where they need to go is no longer next to yours. He wonders what it feels like to learn that love doesn’t come with dread, and watching people around him find that so easily, it comes to him that maybe he’s the one doing something wrong.

It doesn’t really help that, after Jamie and Faye have settled in their seats, all the others that follow after come with similar introductions. Harry never expected coming here that he’d hear the words “fiancée” and “wife” being thrown around so often, and, quickly, he comes to the realization that he is the only one without a date.

As much as those thoughts keep bothering him, they become dulled as time starts going by and he nurses his second flute of champagne. The conversations that make their way to the table mostly consist of the recollection of times when each other’s faces felt like more than just a “used to be”. They make rounds with digging up old inside jokes, and Harry finds himself stealing glances in your direction more often than he’d like. He tries not to, of course, but you seem to be the only place his eyes want to travel to. With your voice so close to him, more than he ever thought it would be again, it’s like someone’s lighting a candle at the deep of his chest (those nice vanilla ones you used to have in your room, giving the whole place a scent that still sticks to him as yours to this day). It’s nearly scary to him, how easily he falls again to the sound of your laugh.

His nose scrunches in a laugh at a joke Chris blurts out from the other side of the table about their old math teacher the moment there’s a tap in the microphone that echoes through the walls of the small space. A woman stands in the far side of the room, standing on a small platform that was settled for the musicians. She’s the same one that greeted him at the entrance, her hair now pulled up in a tight bun exposing a thin layer of sweat on her forehead that shimmers under the lighting directly above her.

“Good evening, everyone.” Her voice chirps a bit too loud and she throws a look over her shoulder to a man standing next to a speaker, before testing a word again to see it come out now in a more composed tone.

She proceeds to go into a short speech that Harry, in all honesty, zooms out for a great part of it. His body has twisted on his seat to have a better look at the center of the room where she speaks into the mic, but as a result of that, he’s now facing you. From this angle, he has a better look at the side of your face, as you find yourself turned in your seat in order to look at the woman as well. Your makeup is light and most of it falls into a natural tone, and Harry wonders if you’ve made any effort at all into looking this beautiful.

The familiarity of your features tugs at his heartstrings, you’ve grown into them over the years, the lines in your face having matured with time. Still, he can pinpoint reminders of when he last got to gaze at you this closely. A scar just below your eyebrow, now faded, but still very much present, from when your sister scratched you with a branch at the first barbecue he attended at your family’s home. A few beauty marks painting your skin, that he used to press his lips or trace his finger over as if connecting them. Even the tiny golden ball poking through your second ear hole that he held your hand through when you got it pierced, afraid it would hurt too bad. Those details he thought he’d all but forgotten about, now staring right back at him.

Once again, it’s like he’s lost track of how long he’s been looking at you, and surely you can feel him watching, as you turn your head to meet his gaze. Harry blinks a few times, lips parting as he realizes he just got caught staring. There’s barely enough time for him to try and avert his eyes to pretend nothing ever happened, however, as your lips twitch in a gentle smile. The action causes a matching one to poke on his face almost immediately, a reaction Harry himself barely has time to register, a warmth deepening along with his dimples on his cheeks. You let out a slight laugh, bringing the brim of your glass up to your lips before gazing back over your shoulder at the lady that now seems to be wrapping up her speech.

“And with that being said, it’s now an honor to introduce for the first time, mister and missus Michael and Elise Browne!” She gestures to the entrance at the couple that appears through the doors, smiles still stretching their faces as they make their way to the far end of the room where there’s a space reserved for the dance floor.

With everyone’s attention being called towards the two newlyweds, Harry lets out a shaky breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. Biting into his lip he claps along with the rest of the guests, trying to relax his shoulders to ease the nerves that still tickle deep in his stomach.

Quickly, though, the atmosphere of the place turns into more of a cheerful one.

After the couple’s first dance (which, this time, Harry has to blink away the tears that threaten to spill, knowing he’s much  more exposed to someone’s wandering eyes here) there’s a round of short speeches, mostly thanking everyone’s presence, before they start to serve dinner.

During most of the course, however, it’s like you’ve become the main attraction of the table. And it’s not that Harry’s surprised by it, even before you’ve gotten this big in your career, you’ve always held this magnetic aura within you. Something about you draws people’s attention, and you’re good at holding it to you. It’s not something you do consciously, he knows, but as soon as you’re in a room no one else holds a chance at stealing the spotlight.

It’s always been like this, even all those years ago. But now it’s like it’s intensified by tenfold. Harry doesn’t know how you manage to split your attention into so many conversations, and still remain your charming demeanour after hearing the same celebrity joke for the third time in a row. You don’t seem bothered by the amount of questions thrown your way (and he’s sure this is probably the most amount of times he’s heard Beyonce being mentioned in a conversation), in fact, he’s sure you’ve grown more than used to it by now.

Harry, on the other hand, is the one that grows slightly annoyed with time passing. Oddly enough, from the moment he sat next to you, something in him urged to be alone with you. He wants to be the one to hold your attention, your full attention. He wants to talk to you, to really have an actual conversation with you-- none of those ‘what does Adele smells like’ type of questions.

It took him seeing you again to make him realize, he’s missed you.

The chance presents itself, though, just as the empty plates for the main dish get collected by the caterers. Chris mentions something about one of Jamie’s school flings, causing a tension as his wife -Faye- storms out of the table with the man following close behind after shooting a dirty look towards his old friend. Melanie, who had been the main one to be on your shoulder throughout the night, excuses herself to the toilet right after. And, as soon as she’s out of her seat, Harry sees you let out a sigh, reaching for your wine glass before you turn to him for the first time in the night.

“I love your suit, by the way!” You exclaim, eyes moving down his jacket briefly. “Never seen anything like it.”

Harry clears his throat, feeling a heat raise at the back of his neck now that your focus is entirely on him. The suit in question, the same one that got an odd look from the lady at the front door, is actually one he’d firstly tailored on his first year of uni. It’s mostly made with a royal blue fabric, except the lapels that take the same material, but in a deep blood tone (initially, his first plan was to make the entire suit in this tone, but as he realized he barely had enough fabric of the same shade to finish the jacket, he settled on using it only as a detail on the lapels and at the bend of his elbows and knees). His favorite part of it, though, was actually added semi recently. Lisa had ordered some flower detailing to sew to Belle’s dress, but the girl in charge of it embroidered them a shade too dark and, before she got the chance to throw the work away, Harry asked to have them. Now, they’re bound to the lapels of his jacket, twin garden roses on each side, their blooming petals matching beautifully with the darker tone of the fabric. From the moment he added them on, he was in love with it, and now he’s even more glad he did so, because it also caught your attention.

“Thanks, I-” He looks down at his attire, as if he hasn’t seen it a million times before, scratching his nose with the side of his finger as his voice comes out lower than he intended, a shy smile taking over his face. “I designed it myself, actually.”

“Oh my god!” You gasp as the realization hits you. “Really? Wait how-- I mean, I didn’t-- Well, it looks incredible!”

“Thank you.”

“I didn’t know you…” You trail off, motioning vaguely down at his attire.

“Uhm, yeah.” He breathes out a laugh, rubbing his nose with the side of his finger in a nervous tick. “I dropped out of art school, actually, to get into fashion.”

Your eyes widen just slightly, blinking back at him a couple times, lips parting. “How did I not know that?” You ask in a mumble, seemingly more to yourself than to him.

“It was just uhm…” Harry looks down at his lap, not knowing how to finish the sentence without making it awkward. “It was right after we…”

“Oh.”

He clicks his tongue. “Yeah…”

“You must be almost done, right?” You change the subject as you bring the brim of your glass up to your lips, barely taking a sip before adding, “With your degree, I mean.”

Harry nods. “Got a year left, yeah.”

You take a full sip of your wine, setting it back to its place on the table before leaning to rest your elbow on top of it so it can support your cheek as you lean forward, turning your body so to show how he has your full attention. “And how’s that going? Do you have any idea of the path you want to take? I know fashion has so many possibilities, it must be exciting.”

“It is.” He nods just as a certerer comes to settle the deserts in front of each of you. After muttering a quick ‘thank you’, he continues, “I had some internships last year, actually. Worked with a couple designers in London, it was pretty cool.”

“That’s sick.” Your eyes still haven’t left him. “Any names I might recognize?”

He uses his fork to play around with a strawberry, focusing on the way it falls from the small piece of tart painted with white ganache, using it as a silent excuse to himself as to not meet your eyes. Truth to be told, it’s a rather strange feeling to him, having someone’s full attention like this, being asked about his life with a genuine curiosity behind your words. Harry’s used to being backstage, is what most of his career choice consists of, anyway. He stays behind the stage lights, doing the work no one cares for when they see the final product; even when working on runway pieces, people weren’t thinking of whoever did the stitching of the tule or the embroidery over the bustier. But the way you’re watching him, eyes glimmering under the warm lights, it’s the closest he’s felt to being thrown under the spotlight.

Which could explain why he feels this nervous.

“Maybe, yeah, I was with Christopher Kane for a semester.” He lowers his voice without meaning to, a rush of shyness tinting his face. “Also worked on a campaign with Molly Goddard.”

“Holy shit, Harry, that’s, like, huge!” You gasp, hand coming to hold onto his shoulder, pushing him back gently as to bring his eyes to meet yours. It’s sweet, really, how you most likely have accomplishments much bigger than he could ever dream of achieving, still, your smile grows as if it’s the most impressive thing you’ve ever heard. It brings a small giggle to escape from his lips. Letting your hand fall from his shoulder, you relax back into your seat. “One of my favorite dresses is Christopher Kane, he works with his sister, right?”

“They’re both creative directors, yeah.”

“I love their work.” You say, a smile still present and he hopes it never fades. “Are you doing any other intership right now?

“Yeah…” He starts. “I’m working right now, actually, doing some costume design for theatre.”

“Really? Now that’s an interesting path.” You point, fingers fiddling with the hem of the tablecloth. “Where are you working?”

“Uhm…” He knew this question was coming, still, he’s not sure how to present you with the information. His voice lowers, eyes falling to his lap before he looks up at you through his lashes. “Act One.”

He hears your hand fall to your lap, eyes widening just barely before you let out a chuckle, “You’re taking the piss.”

“I’m afraid I’m not.”

“Act One?” Your lips part in disbelief.  “With my mum?”

The thing is, Harry was only aware about Act One opening a London unit when he saw the job advertisement stuck to the wall of his university’s building about five months ago. He recognized the name, of course, knowing your mother worked as the music director while you two were together, and also knowing you had been part of a fair amount of productions before your career started growing as it is now (having even attended a handful of them himself, back in the day). What he didn’t know was that your family moved to London with the company and that your mother was still part of the crew when he joined for the spring production. So, the news came with a surprise to him as much as it is to you.

He thought maybe she would have mentioned it to you-- and maybe she has and you just brushed past the information, not caring much for it. But the way your face is still hung in shock, blinking at him as you try to process what he just told you, he figures that’s not the case.

“The same one, yeah.”

“I can’t believe it!” You reach for your glass, twirling it in your hand to watch the dark liquid swirl inside, still shaking your head slightly. “She never- She never…”

“To be fair, I don’t see her that often.” He tries to reason, and it’s true, they work in two different spaces. “I’m usually at the atelier.”

“Still, that’s…”

“Can I have everyone’s attention for a moment, please?” Someone cuts you off before you can even process how to finish the sentence you started. Everyone’s attention is called back to the makeshift stage, to a woman with the mic in her hand-- she’s in one of the bridesmaid’s navy blue gown, holding up a flute of champagne on her free hand. Once all eyes are on her, she continues. “For those who don’t know me, my name’s Lara, the bride’s best friend...”

The rounds of speeches start with her, then. Halfway through her second childhood story, that you’re only paying half mind to, you realize your mouth’s still parted in shock from your conversation with Harry. You try to subtly cover it, taking a sip of your wine, before you let yourself zoom out completely for the rest of the toasts.

How come he’s been working with your mum for months now, and you’ve only now become aware of it? It’s what keeps bugging you. The possibility of her mentioning the fact comes to you, but you brush it off as quickly as you think of it. You surely would’ve remembered it. There haven't been many mentions of Harry’s name since your breakup, really, and those become less frequent as the years go by. But you hold on to each one of them, trying to grasp the smallest piece of information about his life as you can.

Truth to be told, you’ve missed him. Before you started a relationship, he had been the closest friend you had. And the fact that the worst possible scenario of turning a friendship into something more came true tore you apart.

After you distanced from each other there was very little contact. Your mother would mention every few months something about him moving out how his family had adopted a new kitten. Those informations were received by you with single word answers or a simple nod, even though on the inside you were desperate to ask for more. Harry’s never really been very in touch with social media, so those updates from your mum were pretty much all the glimpse you had on his life without you.

That is, until they all moved two years ago. Then those small comments stopped all together.

So you tried to turn your mind off of it. Off of him. But every now and then something would happen. You’d listen to a song that you used to dance to in his bedroom, or you’d find one of his necklaces lost deep in your drawer and it would all go back to him. How was he doing? Where has his life gone? Who is he friends with? Who’s loving him?

The only time you ever vocalized those thoughts was once during a wine night with Aya. People often compliment you on how good you are with your words, but every time they do, you can’t help but think they’ve probably never got the chance to meet her. She was the first person to reassure you how normal it is to hang on to an old feeling. Harry was your first love, after all, and he’d always hold a place in your heart, no matter how hard you try to mask it.

After that, you stopped trying to bury something that was so valuable to you.

And living in harmony with your feelings, old and new, is something that you found to be so tranquil. Or, well, at least you were able to say that once.

Still, the conversation with Harry only helped to enhance that curiosity that used to consume you. It was a short one-- due to the circumstances you’re in, you can’t really catch a break to have much of a profound chat; but it still was enough for you to realize how little you know of him. There are still many cues that showed you that he’s still the Harry you once knew with the fullness of your heart. His quiet demeanor, and the shy smile that stretches his lips when the attention is on him. His dimples that you used to poke and kiss just to feel them deepen under your touch. His eyes that you always could get lost in every shade they take.

Those traces that make you want to explore each new one that you don’t know about anymore. The curls in his head, that even being pushed back in a bun, you can still tell are much longer than the last time you ran our finger through them. The tattoos that peak under the sleeve of his jacket, and you can’t help but wonder how many more are hidden under the material. The rings hugging his fingers or the necklaces set on his chest. There’s so much you want to ask him about.

And the next time you get the chance to do that is hours later.

The party is starting to feel like it could die out at any moment, when the children have fallen asleep on the armchairs and the early risers start to bid their goodbyes. There’s still a fair amount of people stumbling their way on the dance floor and making the last few rounds on the free cocktails that are being served. Your table is still pretty much filled, except for Chris that got his way around with one of the bridesmaids, which is why you haven’t managed to catch another time to be alone with Harry.

Throughout the night, as the alcohol started to make its way on people’s bloodstreams, you’ve probably been approached by every person within your age group. And, as much as you’ve gotten used to being the main attraction of those types of gatherings, being thrown around and pointed at like an animal in a cage. At this stage in your career, you know you have to suck it up and smile through it. But this night in particular, you find it especially hard not to roll your eyes in annoyance or let out a frustrated sigh when someone interrupts your eighth attempt at trying to talk to Harry.

But your freedom comes when Melanie -fucking Melanie- finally announces she and her boyfriend (Dan, Dave, Don - something like that) are calling it a night. And when she leaves, it’s just you and him.

You glance over your shoulder, making sure no one’s making their way towards you, but, thankfully, everyone else is pretty occupied with the karaoke machine that was introduced an hour ago.

“I’m sneaking out for a smoke.” You reach for your clutch, eyes hopeful as you glance back at Harry. “Wanna come with?”

To your relief, he nods. “Sure.”

You guide him towards a door you had peeked at when you were taking pictures with the bride’s family.

Just like you’d reckoned, it leads to a terrace of sorts, looking out into the courtyard where the ceremony was held from above the glass ceiling. You shoot Harry a short smile as he holds the door open for you, following just behind into the breezy night.

The sky is clear, the way it is after a rainfall, but a few clouds indicate that it might not be just done yet. The first whisk of wind makes you regret not bringing your coat, but you quickly brush away the idea of going back inside, afraid someone might notice you sneaking out a second time. So you two settle in a place right by the railing, turning to the party so you can relax back into the metal.

Reaching inside your clutch, you retrieve a package of cigarettes, pulling one out before offering it to Harry, who shakes his head in a  quick decline. You hold it between your lips as you grab a small lighter that it’s almost lost inside the tiny purse. There’s still a gust of wind dancing around the air, a chill that comes with the aftermath of rainfall. You find it nice, though, the way it brings goosebumps to rise on your skin. It’s a nice balance with the warmth of the flame as you flicker the lighter awake, bringing the flame to the butt of the cigarette that’s propped between your lips. You inhale the smoke, holding it for a moment as you appreciate the peace and quiet of the night, something you haven’t had in a while now.

For a while, both of you just stay quiet, enjoying the other’s presence.

It’s almost funny to you, how people compare meeting again with someone from your past, especially an ex, to seeing a ghost. Because right now, spending this night with Harry after years of being apart, you feel like that couldn’t be further away from the truth. Being in his presence again is everything but haunting. Feels like how it is to go back to your hometown, to walk the streets you memorized growing up, knowing you still know your way around them by heart. Like seeing the places you would go to when you were younger change over time, but still never quite lose the nostalgic feeling they’ve always held. Something that time is not powerful enough to change. The feeling of coming home.

Being with Harry is like that. Still the same, but different.

Harry speaks up first, he could’ve startled you if his voice hadn’t come out as soft as the brush of the wind against the tree branches a couple floors down from where you stand. Nearly shy, as he says it while gazing down at his boots, “Congratulations on your Grammy, by the way.”

“Did you know?” You ask, genuinely surprised.

He’s the only person that hasn’t brought up the elephant you bring to the room every time you walk in a gathering like this. A shadow of your status that people glaze at before even attempting on making a normal conversation. You knew it was coming sooner or later, and you appreciate the fact that he chose the latter.

Somehow, you had convinced yourself that maybe he hadn’t cared about you enough to know anything about your career throughout the years, especially knowing how much he had going on for himself. So to have him mention it, to congratulate you on top of it all, comes as a bit of a shock.

Harry seems oblivious of your surprise, however, as his words come out nearing a nonchalant tone. “Of course, hard not to.”

“Were you…” You start, suddenly feeling oddly shy about the prospect of him knowing this information about you. You wonder what else he knows about, what kind of assumptions he’s made about the person you’ve become. “Were you watching it?”

He nods, looking up at you. “I was, yeah.”

Your chest warms at his confession and it almost unsettles you how he’s got you flustered so easily. Usually, if it were anyone else, you wouldn’t hold back a snarky reply, knowing most people wouldn’t bat an eye before showering with compliments.

You blink at yourself with this thought, hating how truthful it is.

But with Harry there’s something in you that wants to impress him, to show him you still have the girl that he knew so well still somewhere inside of you. It makes you want to question him, desperate to know his impressions of this life you portray for the public. But you hold back, almost scared of the answer you could receive. So instead, you simply offer a vague response,  “Seems like so long ago.” You let out a dry laugh. “It’s been barely three months.”

He offers you a small grin. “‘S what they say, time rushes by when you’re having fun, and all that?”

“I guess that’s it, yeah.”

There’s a sudden urge inside of you to tell him the truth. Tell him how miserable you felt throughout most of that day. That you weren’t having fun at all, in fact, you were so preoccupied over the fact that you were supposed to be having the best night of your life that it only made your nerves swallow you in an avalanche. You want to tell him why that entire week was close to miserable, fuck, that entire month, actually. You wish you could cry on his shoulder about all you’ve been bottling up inside of you. You want to open up to him in a way you haven’t opened up to anyone.

You shake your head. What is wrong with you?

You have to remind yourself you barely know him anymore. This is the first time you’ve spoken in years and your first instinct is to throw all your baggage on him. To scare him away before you even get the chance to let a word out.

Instead of letting your big mouth say more than you’d be willing to share, you try to lighten up, thinking of the one part of that night that you actually enjoyed yourself, “I chipped my tooth with it, you know.”

“What?”

“The Grammy.” You reply, taking a short drag of the cigarette as you ponder how much information you want to pour on him of that night. “Chipped my tooth. I was jumping on the bed with it.” He chuckles, causing a loose strand to curl against his forehead. You want to brush it off, folding your arm under your elbow as you avert your eyes from his. “God, that night feels like a blur now. I think I pretty much convinced myself I dreamed a good portion of it.”  

You let out a chuckle, watching the way the smoke blends with the air. Harry doesn’t say anything, but you can feel his eyes looking at you from the corner of your vision. You meet his gaze, sensing a silent question from his jade irises, as if they’re waiting for you to keep talking.

“It just-- I don’t know, took a while to click, you know? To realize what had happened.” You elaborate, looking down at the skirt of your dress dancing along with the breeze as you grin to yourself at the memory. “ I got home that night, downed half an old bottle of whiskey that I found in my cellar.”

Harry’s brows shoot up, his voice coming with the verge of a teasing tone. “A cellar?”

“Shit, uh-- yeah it kinda-- I don’t know, came with the house.” There’s the warmth again, you feel it at the tip of your nose and you almost want to facepalm yourself for the slipup. “But yeah, after the ceremony, I went home by myself and just… Well, got drunk.”

“That’s understandable.” He giggles, and the sound makes you glance up at him again. “So you jumped in your bed with it?”

“Yeah, that’s pretty much how the story ends.” You click your tongue, giving him an exaggerated nod that turns into a shake. “Was so gone I didn’t even notice I chipped my tooth until I woke up a few hours later.”

He lets out a full laugh now, his eyes squinting and you can’t help but join him. “Sounds like you had fun.”

“Uhm.., I did, yeah.”

Harry falls silent, his smile toning down slowly. He puckers his lips, as if pondering what to say next. When he does speak, his words are slow, “How is it to like…” His words trail off, and you have to bite back a smile when he starts gesturing, remembering how he used to do that before. “I mean, talking to you now, even with this whole fame thing, you’re still so… Shit, I don’t want this to come off the wrong way.”

“It’s fine.” You let your cigarette fall to the floor before crashing it with your boot, the only reason you lit it was to have an excuse to leave the party with him. “Can guarantee you I had worse questions asked.”

“It’s just you’re still so… Well I wouldn’t say the same cause none of us really are the same person we were, like, five years ago.” He lets out a nervous laugh. “But you’re still so… grounded, I guess is the best word to describe it.”

You allow a grin to tuck at your lips, hoping he doesn’t sense the sincere apprehension that comes with your tease. “Were you expecting me to be a stuck up diva, is that it?”

His eyes bulge out. “No! No, of course not! Is just-- I think, well, most people think...And it’s not a you thing but more of a, I don’t know, celebrity thing? Fuck, I really dug myself a hole, haven’t I?”

“Harry, relax. I was just teasing.” You interrupt as he starts to ramble. “But I know what you mean, yeah.”

You ponder his question for a moment. The answer for it being far from a simple one, but, once again, the last thing you want is to overwhelm him with your problems. So you choose your words carefully, chewing at your bottom lip as you feel him watching you patiently.

“It’s not easy, I’ll tell you that.” You start, you voice slowing to an almost cautious tone. “I had… Worse times dealing with it, you know? I…”

“You don’t have to talk about it.”

“It’s fine, I trust you.” The words leave your mouth before you can register. You try not to show your surprise at them, and you do a better job than Harry, who audibly holds a breath. “Having so many people loving you, being praised for everything you do… It’s easy to let it go to your head, and I can’t say I’ve always been the best at managing it, but--” You regret your next words before you can even stop them from spilling from your lips. “I had a breakup a couple months ago that was uhm… A bit hard, but looking back at it I feel like it was like a bucket of cold water, in that sense.”

His eyes soften, and you have to look away because the last thing you want is to catch his reaction. “I’m sorry about that.”

“Don’t be! Really, I’m fine-- I’ll be fine.” You reassure quickly, shaking your head in hopes to shake the subject away.

It seems to work, as silence takes over the space once again, and both your eyes glance towards the party mindlessly.

You two watch Jamie appear in front of the glass doors leading to where you stand. He has his back to you, and from what you see it’s like he’s trying to pull Faye in the direction of the dance floor. She has a frown adorning her face, not giving into her husband’s attempt on pulling her with him. It’s clear, even from where you are, that he’s far off his mind now, his hips swaying with the muffled sounds of an attempt of a Céline Dion cover, still persisting even though it’s clear his wife wants nothing to do with his drunken ideas.

Faye gently pushes his hands away with a roll of her eyes, causing him to give a couple steps back, walking backwards into a chair before crumbling down with it. Neither of you can contain your laughs at the scene, even when you bring your hand up to muffle the sound, it’s too late. Jamie’s eyes look up from where he lies on the floor, catching sight of the two of you, he mumbles something you don’t understand, gesturing for you to come inside. You answer it with a small wave, and, thankfully, his attention is brought to his wife as she tries to help him stand.

You exhale a small laugh, moving so you’re no longer leaning back into the railing. “I think this is my cue to go before they try to convince me to try out that karaoke machine.”

“Yeah, I told myself I’d be out right after the toasts.”

You stop, pondering for a moment before looking back at him. “How are you going home?”

“I took the tube here.”

“Let me drive you back.”

“You don’t have--”

“It’s fine! I--” You pause, chewing down your bottom lip as you glance around him, feeling oddly embarrassed.  “I got a driver waiting for me, you can just tell him your address, won’t be a problem to drop you off.”

He hesitates, waiting a beat before nodding. “If it’s not a bother.”

“It’s not.” You say a bit too quickly. “I’m suggesting it, after all.”

“Okay, then.”

//

As soon as you dropped Harry home, when the sky was awaking lazily with an orange bloom of dawn, he started to wonder if the entire night had even been real. By the time he woke up, just a couple hours later, he was sure it had been a spur of his imagination. He must’ve fallen asleep while getting dressed, yeah, that must’ve been it, he got ready and decided to lay down for a bit, which led him to fall asleep and dream of the whole thing.

That night feels like a blur now. I think I pretty much convinced myself I dreamed a good portion of it.

You said that to him. But how convenient is it, that describes perfectly how he feels about that night? Of course, you were talking about the night you won your first Grammy, and he’s merely thinking about how it was to meet you again. The two reasons for each of you to feel this way are so polar apart, Harry can’t help but feel like it translates well into the time in your lives you two are in. After all, you’re out there winning prestigious awards, wearing Dior to go out for groceries (do you even go out for your own groceries?), and having a whole cellar in your house, for christ's sake. Meanwhile, Harry’s still a full year away from getting his degree, wearing the same mismatched vans as a fashion statement, and having cheap bottles of wine tucked in the back of his creaky wooden cabinet.

It’s not that he hates the life he has, of course not. But it’s clear to him how distant you are from each other, even when he got the closest he had been to you in years.

So it doesn’t come as a surprise to him when he doesn’t hear from you for the next couple days. It’s what was expected, even. It doesn’t take away the fact that he’s a bit disappointed, though, but there’s no one else to blame for that but himself. What did he expect? That after spending one night together after five years you’d suddenly get close again as if nothing happened?

But it’s not his fault that he’s hopeful, not when you’d been so friendly that night, seeming so eager to catch up with him. So, yeah, you can’t really blame him for the hiccup on his heart every time he phone vibrated-- only to be left with a frustrated crease marking his features and a slight pout.

The day after was the worst one. It was a Sunday, after all, and Julia had left early in the morning to spend the week at Blake’s, which meant Harry had spent the entire day alone, dwelling on his confusion about what had been the night prior. He almost felt a bit stupid about how sure he had been that you’d text him, as that was the reason for you to exchange phone number with him, wasn’t it? As hours went by, however, and the loneliness of the tiny apartment got louder than the Friends’ rerun he was binging, he started to question it.

Maybe he got too nosy, asking too much about something you clearly weren’t comfortable answering. Maybe his question had offended you, and that’s why you wanted to leave early. Maybe you only gave him your number to be polite. Maybe that’s not even your actual phone number, he reckons, how many do you probably have?

He slept with the telly on that night, trying to muffle the maybes that kept nagging him.

It got better once the week started. Between classes and work, he barely had enough time to let his thoughts wander off. He was still going back to an empty home, but this time he brought back work with him. As a result of his late night on the weekend, Harry’s sleep schedule got completely spoiled. So he resorts into spending the wee hours of the morning perfecting a detailing he wasn’t all that satisfied with, or working on a draft for his fashion sketching class a week before it’s due (he even tries to cook for himself some recipes Julia sent him to try and keep his mind occupied).

Once Wednesday night rolls around, he has all but swept it out of his mind completely. And that’s when he finally hears from you.

Seems like you’ve taken a fancy on catching him off guard.

He’s on the couch when it happens, snuggled under his heated blanket as he tries to fix the embroidery at the hem of an extra’s jacket. The pilot of Stranger Things makes for background noise, and he pays half a mind to it while humming a tune that’s been stuck on his head throughout the whole day-- they started tuning in on the radio at the atelier and now he gets the privilege to listen to the same four songs about ten times a day. His alarm for a meditation app he’s trying out has just gone off on top of the side table - indicating it would be around time for his regular night routine - and just as he reaches for it to turn it off, the screen lights up again. This time for a phone call.

When he catches sight of the name displayed on the screen he almost chokes on his own saliva, the hoop in his hand falling to his lap as he rushes to catch the device. Harry blinks twice at the screen, thinking his eyes might be tricking him into seeing your name shine at the caller id. And for a moment he just stays like this, mind blank before realizing he should pick up before it goes to voicemail.

Taking a deep breath, he tries to even the thumping on his chest as he clears his throat, quickly pressing the accept button before bringing the phone to his ear. “‘Lo?”

“Harry?” Your voice comes in a higher pitch.

“Hi.”

“Are you home right now?”

His brows furrow at the question. “I-Uh- Well, yeah, Wh-”

“That’s perfect! I’m at your front door now…”

“What-” He just about jumps from his spot, tripping over the blanket as it falls around his ankles.

“And I’ve just realized I don’t know which flat to ring!” You continue, oblivious to the hectic man on the other side of the line.

“You’re outside?” Rushing to the window just a couple steps away, he pushes back the curtains to get a view of the street right below. And there you are, leaning back against a black car, similar to the one that gave him a ride, one hand holding the phone to your ear as the other is occupied with something he can’t quite figure out from where he stands. What calls his attention, though, is the gown you’re dressed in, definitely something way too lavish for a wednesday night.

“Yup.” You say simply, and he catches how your gaze moves up, meeting his. “Oh! Hey you!”

“Right. I’ll- I’ll be down in a minute.”

Harry’s not sure how he doesn’t break an ankle on the way down the steps of his building, flying three floors down at a near record speed. Once he reaches the ground floor, he takes a second to catch his breath, leaning with a hand against a wall as he cusses himself out for forgetting about his asthma in the midst of his rush. He manages to ease his breathing, but is still unable to calm the speed of his heartbeats, that now send an electric flow on his bloodstream, and he suddenly feels too warm.

He opens the door to find you just as you were when he saw you from the window. A smile stretches your face when you see him, giving him a wave. You turn back to say something on the driver's window he doesn’t quite catch, but just as you lean away from the vehicle, he watches as it drives away.

From this distance, he has a better look at you, and he’s sure now that your wednesday evening has most definitely played out much different than his. You’re wearing the new Valentino collection, a strapless navy blue dress with golden sparks detailing resembling a firework explosion right at your waist and going all the way down the skirt and up the top. Your hair is done in an updo, leaving your shoulders bare to the night breeze and he wonders if you’re not cold.

Harry barely has time to notice the silver statuete in your hand before you’re stepping towards him, embracing him into a hug. “Hey!”

“Hi.” He tries not to focus on how you smell like fresh roses, or how soft your skin feels when you nuzzle against his neck for a second before pulling back.

“I was around and decided to stop by for a bit!” You grin up at him. “So, are you not gonna invite me up?”

The last few words come out just a bit slurred from your mouth, and that’s when he realizes.

Oh.

You’re drunk.

“Uh, sure, of course.” He holds the door open, waiting for you to step inside before closing it behind him.

You don’t say anything on the way up, and Harry’s got his head going way too fast at once to try to wrap his mind at what’s happening. There’s too many questions he wants to ask, more than he can really make out at the moment. And on top of it all, he’s just started to worry about the state of his tiny little undergrad flat and how he’s about to receive someone who probably has a house with a washroom the size of the whole thing.

His lips part to try to apologize for the mess you’re about to walk in when you two reach his front door, but before he can let a word out, you beat him to it. “Do you have a loo I could use?”

He blinks. “Yeah, it’s just to your right.”

You step out of your heels once you walk in, quickly making a beeline to where he directed, not bothering to glance around the place.

Harry darts towards the living room, trying his best to tidy the mess he left before you step out. He throws the blanket that’s lying limply on the floor over the couch, gathering his embroidery tools that fell to the side of the couch and making his best attempt at folding them. The screen has gone to the second episode now, and he quickly shuts it off. Pondering for a moment if he should put on some music, he decides against it. Instead, he decides on pouring you a glass of water, now that he understands you’re still at least a bit tipsy, he finds it that his best option is to help you get on your best mind so he can figure out why, out of all places, you’ve decided to come here.

Because that’s the thing.

He still doesn’t know why on earth you’ve decided to show up on his flat unprompted, and all he can do is thank every outer force for Julia being out tonight. She would probably fall dead if she knew about this.

A minute too long passes as Harry waits for you, leaning on his kitchen counter with the glass of water sat in front of him. He feels as if he can’t keep still, leg bouncing nervously and fingers tapping against the countertop as he bites into his inner cheek. It’s only when he finally glances in the direction of the toilet that he notices. The door is wide open.

He strides towards the room, stopping just as he reaches the doorway. “Is everything alright in there?”

“Oh! Yeah! You can come in!” Your voice echoes from inside.

Peeking in slowly, his brows shoot up as he sees you sitting at the edge of the bathtub, phone in hands and the statute lying on your lap. You shoot him a smile.

He gestures back vaguely to the kitchen behind him. “Got you some water.”

“There’s no need for that, tonight it’s to celebrate! --Oop” You try to straighten your back, but you end up falling back into the tub, the tulle of the skirt almost swallowing you in the process.

“Fuck-” He rushes towards you, reaching from your arms to try to help you as you burst into giggles. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m great!” You assure, waving his hands off as you adjust yourself to sit more comfortably. “Do you have any wine you can pop?”

“I--” The question takes him back, and he racks his brain to think if there’s still a bottle he’d purchased a couple weeks ago.  “I think so.”

“Bring it, then, let's make this our little after-party.” You throw your arms around dramatically. “A very exclusive one, as you can see.”

“Right.” He chuckles. “Give me a minute.”

“I’ll be right here!”

Turns up there’s just about half a bottle left sitting inside the creaky cabinet. He chooses the glass with the smallest crack at the base-- the glasses are very cheap and Harry’s not very careful with them.

He decides to leave the bottle at the counter, grabbing the filled glass of water as well before heading back where he left you sitting inside his bathtub.  

“There he is!” You exclaim when he walks in, handing you the glass of wine and setting the other next to the sink. “You didn’t pour one for yourself?”

He closes the lid of the toilet, sitting on top of it. “Uhm… Not really a drinking kind of night for me.”

“Oh god!” You gasp. “Of course, how could I be so stupid? I’ll leave you be--”

“No!” Harry quickly asserts,  “No, I mean- It’s fine, really. I was just surprised, is all.”

When you speak, your voice comes out softer, “I don’t mean to disturb.”

“You aren’t!”He assures. “Really, stay I-- It’s nice to see you again.”

You smile up at him, he can tell from this close how your eyes are a bit glossy, and he wonders if he should’ve told you he didn’t have any wine. But still, it’s live you have him at the palm of your hand. “It’s nice to see you again, too.”You scoop a bit to the side, tapping the space next to you. “C’mon.”

“What?”

“Come join me here.”

“I don’t think it fits us both.”

“Of course it does! Here,” You attempt to pull at your skirt with one hand, barely budging the tulle from where it spreads inside the tub. “See?”

He chuckles as you look back up at him. “I’ll ruin your dress.”

“It’s okay, it’s not like I’ll wear it again.” Your eyes widen. “Oh my god, I sounded like a bitch, I didn’t mean it like that just--” Trying again, you do a better job at containing the skirt, giving it enough space for him to sit. “There. Now we can both sit inside, my dress will be intact!”

He laughs, dropping next to you inside the empty bathtub. The hem of your skirt tickles his skin, and he mindlessly reaches to hold the fabric between his fingers. His eyes fall to your lap as he does so, the silver of the statuete catching his eye, he taps the base of it, “What is it for?”

“Huh?” You stop midsip, brows creasing slightly before gazing down to where he’s pointing. “Oh! It’s a Brit. Best New Artist.” Picking it up, you offer it to Harry. The award feels heavier than he thought it would as he holds it, the shape of it resembling a woman’s shape, her body curving in an ‘S’. You sigh next to him, taking a small sip. “Funny, innit? Been doing this for so long, it feels like, but I’m still being treated as if I’m new blood.”

“That’s true.” He turns the award in his hand before handing it back to you, and you simply let it fall back to your lap. There’s a moment of silence as he mulls over the question he’s been wanting to ask since you showed up at his doorstep. “Why didn’t you go to an after-party?”

“Not really in the mood.” You shrug. “Needed a familiar face, I guess.”

He hums in response. Surely, you’ve got plenty of familiar faces in London, ones that you probably see more often than you’ve ever seen him. Friends. Family. So why was it your first instinct to go to his building? You didn’t even text him after you parted ways after the wedding, he was sure you had even forgotten about him once again.

It’s all much too confusing to him.

“H?” You speak up first, your tone is gentle, even a bit uncertain.

The sound of his nickname falling from your lips causes a stutter on his heartbeat.

“Yeah?”

You’re looking down at your lap, watching the liquid inside your glass twirl as you move it slowly. “Is it… Is it too weird that I came here today?”

Harry shakes his head. “Not weird, no.” He comforts. “Was just surprised, is all.”

“I just-” You sigh, a soft frown set between your brows. “Seeing you again, it was really nice, you know?”

“I do.”

“Really.” You meet his eyes with a nod, trying to show how truthful your words are. “Felt like I could let out a breath I didn’t know I was holding for so long.”

He relaxes his shoulders. “I know.” Harry nods. “Yeah I-- I know what you mean.”

When you speak up again, it’s barely above a whisper. The words so sweet it brings the prettiest butterflies to flutter on his belly. “I missed you.”

Harry’s lips part, he wants to say the words back, he can feel them at the tip of his tongue. Because he’s missed you, too. He’s so sure of it. But nothing comes out, his mind going numb as he blinks at you.

“I’m sorry, this was weird, It’s just--” You shake your head to yourself, letting out a nervous laugh. “What I mean is that… I don’t know, I wish we could’ve still talked, you know? After…”

“Yeah.”

You grin. “At the reception, when we chatted, and you told me all those things you’ve been up to, it just… I don’t know, I just wished I could’ve been there with you.” Your eyes look between his, searching for something he can’t quite put his finger on before you take a breath. “And I don’t mean that, like, in a weird way! But as a friend, you know? Wish I could’ve been there with you.”

He clears his throat, forcing himself to speak. “I didn’t…” He opens his mouth, closing it before finally saying. “I never thought you felt that way.”

“I don’t think I realized how much I needed someone close to me that knows me until I saw you again, really.”The words spill out of your mouth, adorably switching from a gentle tone to a rushed one. “And I mean, I have friends that I love and that I trust but… Having someone that’s like…”

A smirk tugs at his lips. “Normal?”

“Don’t say it like that!” You shove him playfully. “But, yeah, someone that knows me without the lights, and the expensive clothes, and the big houses.” Your lips frown as you shrug.  “That just wouldn’t care if I didn’t have all that, that would still like me regardless.”

“You can still have that.” He tries to reassure you, the confession making him want to comfort you. “It’s not too late.”

Looking down at your lap, he sees your breathing halter for a second. “Have we become strangers?” You meet his gaze, chewing down at your bottom lip. “It’s what I kept thinking after I dropped you off, I don’t think I want you to be a stranger.”

Then, he reaches up, brushing a strand out of your forehead. “I don’t think I want that, either.”

Your smile grows. “It’s settled, then.” You nod. “I’m officially promoting you from distant ex to the close friend position.”

Harry lets out a full laugh. “That’s a very sudden rise of positions.”

“We’ll make it slow, then.” You reason, your words starting to stumble out of your mouth again. “Get to know each other again, we can do it when I’m not drunk inside your bathtub. Do you like coffee now?”

“I do, actually.” He replies with a grin. “Hard not to when you’re a uni student.”

“Lovely! We’ll have a coffee and chat.”

“Sounds great.”

You hold up your almost empty wine glass.“To caffeine and friendship.” Tilting it. “Cheers.”

He lets a moment of silence settle, before smirking down at you. “Now, what you said about the expensive clothes…”

“Oh my god, cut the deal.” Rolling your eyes, you try to make it as if you’re about to get up. “We don’t need to get to know each other again, I can tell you’re still a pest.”

“Don’t know what you mean, pet.” He giggles, brushing his hair off his shoulder in dramatics. “I’ve always been a dream.”

//

A/N: I’ve been so excited to share this one with you all!! Thank you so much for reading it :D I’m so curious to know what you all will think about it so please, if you enjoyed it, reblog it or send some feedback to support!! Also, make sure to check the fic page where I keep all my inspo for Curious Time :)

[hollandbaby]

positions - t.h smut

a/n: thank you for requesting !! (2.7k words)

disclaimer: smut (18+), praise kink, spanking, choking, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it !!!)

Your new single has just released, along with a music video, and Tom was so proud of you. He hadn’t heard the song yet, you wanted this single to be a surprise for him, but seeing as you were busy today meeting up with your team to work on promo for your upcoming album, Tom decided to make the boys watch the video with him on the TV in his living room. The boys all gather round, Harry jumping on the sofa next to Tom, Harrison curled up on the other end with his feet resting on the coffee table while Tuwaine sits in his armchair, all facing the TV and chattering and laughing with one another. Tom starts up the TV, and can see that your music video is on the trending page, he smiles to himself as all the boys cheer, excited at your success. They knew if you were there you’d be super appreciative of all the support. Tom clicks on the video, the boys all watching intently as your name pops on the screen, followed by the song title ‘positions.’ Tom’s eyes immediately widen, a slight flush adorning his cheeks as the boys all taunt and tease him, knowing damn well if the lyrics are as suggestive as the title he’ll never hear the end of it.

“This song actually bops, y’know,” Tuwane chimes in, dancing along to the rhythm.

“Of course it does, it’s y/n, we all knew it’d be amazing,” Harrison adds, knowing how much music means to you and watching your success over the last few years continue to grow.

“Mate, the visuals on this are incredible,” Harry is focused on the aesthetics more than anything, appreciating the director’s vision.

But Tom is focused on you the whole time, and how stunning you look in each shot, but also the lyrics to the song. He feels his cheeks flush, knowing this song is about him. Tom has a distant smile on his lips the entire time watching the video, he cannot get over how gorgeous you look on top of how this song is about him. The video ends, and the boys are all praising the video, the song, the vocals, everything while Tom taps away at his phone, dropping you a text.

are you switching positions for me?

Tom locks his phone, not expecting a response straight away but his eyes shoot down to the screen as your message pops up; you know it, baby ;)

Tom smiles to himself, joining in the conversation with the other boys about their favourite aspects of the music video and the song.

“Tom, what was your favourite part of the video?” Tuwaine asks, wiggling his eyebrows.

“I think we all know what Tom’s favourite part was,” Harrison smirks, referring to the scene where you’re on your knees, checking your food in the oven, ass on display. Tom shoves Harrison, all the other boys taunting him, chuckling to themselves.

“Yeah so funny, H. Obviously I loved the whole video, but yeah, I mean who wouldn’t enjoy seeing their girlfriend in that position.”

“We all thoroughly enjoyed it,” Tuwaine butts in, Tom throwing a pillow at him. “It’s all jokes, man, we know she’s off limits.”

“Yeah, you better be joking,” he chuckles. The boys carry on, playing some fifa and messing around for the rest of the day. After playing a few games of fifa, Tom pulls out his phone, scrolling through instagram. He sees you’ve posted a clip of your new song, liking and commenting what you doing on monday? ;)

The comment gets thousands of likes within minutes, Tom smiling to himself as he reads the replies. Your response pops up and he bites his lip as he reads; guess you’ll have to find out 🤭

All the replies start rolling in, a bunch of fans, both yours and Tom’s, replying to the comments absolutely losing their shit. Tom smiles, reposting your post to his story and locking his phone again before heading to the bathroom for a shower. Tom runs the shower, playing your song and putting it on repeat as he hops in, washing his hair and humming along to the tune, letting the hot water run on his tense muscles, exhausted from the shooting he’d been doing recently. After a few minutes, he hears the door open and instantly knows it’s you, a smile gracing his lips as he feels the shower door open.

“Hey, love, how’d you get in here?” He pulls your naked body close to his own, pressing a soft kiss to your lips. Your own hands make their way to his shoulders, smiling up at him.

“Harry let me in, said you were in the shower so I thought I’d join you.” You bite your lip, pushing up against Tom’s bare body. “I’m guessing you like the new song?”

Tom let’s put a breathy laugh, his eyes twinkling as he softly smiles down at you, “I love it, babe, the video, too. I’ve been playing it on loop.”

You smile up at Tom, biting your lower lip before reaching behind him for his shower gel. You pour some into your hands, lathering it up before moving your hands back to Tom’s shoulders, moving them in circular motions to clean his skin, your hands moving down his chest. “What’s your favourite lyric?”

Tom sighs contentedly, loving the feeling of your hands on his skin, “probably the line ‘cooking in the kitchen then I’m in the bedroom’.”

You playfully smack his chest, rolling your eyes at him as you smile. Of course Tom’s favourite line would be the one insinuating food and sex. “How did I guess that’d be your favourite?” Your hands work down his arms now, soap lathering on his skin as the water from the shower hits Tom’s back. Tom grips your hands in his own, moving them back up to his shoulders before leaning down and pressing his lips against your own in a soft, yet needy, kiss.

“I missed you today, love,” he whispers, voice raspy and deep. You meet his eyes, deep brown irises darkened with lust. You feel Tom’s hands trail down to your ass, squeezing your skin before giving a sharp slap to each cheek. You bite your lip, the impact making you jolt forward a little, your breasts pushing up against Tom’s chest.

“Hmm, did you now?” Your own hands travel down Tom’s back, giving his perky bum a quick squeeze before they move around his waist, feeling his hard abs beneath your fingertips, you run your fingers up his torso and chest. One of your hand dips lower, teasing around his erect cock sitting against his stomach, ghosting your touch on him. Tom let’s out a low growl, pulling you into him and kissing you passionately. You kiss Tom back, a mesh of teeth and tongue in a fit of fiery passion, your hands roaming his warm skin as his grope at your ass, water running down both your bodies. You bite your lip as you pull back, breathing heavily as you say “shall we get a little more comfortable?”

Boy, I’m tryna meet your mama, on a Sunday

Tom nods, pecking your lips again before you reach behind him, turning off the shower. Your wet body presses against his and you can feel his hard cock on your stomach, your pussy clenching at the thought of having him inside you. Pressing another kiss to Tom’s puckered lips, you turn and open the shower door, stepping out and wrapping yourself up in a fluffy towel. Tom follows suit, wrapping a towel around his waist before moving behind you and slapping your ass playfully. You leave the bathroom, which luckily is right opposite Tom’s bedroom, and hurry into his room, Tom following behind you, hair dripping, droplets of water falling down his broad shoulders and chest. He closes the door behind him, and you’re immediately in his arms again, your hands snaking their way up to his wet curls as his own wrap around your waist, pulling you into him. Tom pushes you against the nearest wall, lips moving against your own, his hands making their way down to your thighs, encouraging you to jump up. You do so, wrapping your legs around his towel clad hips, your own towel lifting up with your movements, your bare pussy feeling the friction of Tom’s towel. You moan against Tom’s lips, your hips grinding against his own, feeling his hard dick through the towel.

And make a lotta love, on Monday

“Drop your towel, Tommy,” you speak against his lips, one of Tom’s hands moving to his towel, untying the knot and dropping it to the floor, his lips never leaving yours. You feel his cock against your thigh, your pussy clenching, aching to have him inside you. Tom’s fingers creep under your towel, ghosting around your aching heat as he teases your folds, not quite touching where you need him to. You’re whining into the kiss, your hips pushing forward in attempt to make contact with his slender fingers.

I don’t need no one else, babe

“You’re so needy, aren’t you?” He taunts, breathily chuckling against your lips, his breath tickling your chin. You nod, hands pulling him into you, his lips back on your own in a fiery kiss, growing more and more passionate as you grind your hips. Tom finally makes contact with your wet entrance, groaning at how ready you are for him already. His digits slide through your glistening folds, to your clit, rubbing and teasing as your heart beats faster in your chest, legs beginning to shake at the sensation. “Want me to fuck you right here?”

‘Cause I’ll be

You groan, eyes rolling back as you nod your head against Tom’s bedroom wall, your pussy aching as you let the towel fall from your chest, Tom ripping it off the rest of the way and revealing your perfect breasts to him. Tom’s lips are on your neck, kissing and sucking at the skin as he continues rubbing your clit, feeling how your legs shake for him. You reach between your bodies, gripping Tom’s hard cock in your hand, pumping him before guiding his tip to your entrance. Tom’s cock slides into you easily, your head rolling back as you moan, Tom letting out a grunt at the feeling of your warm, wet walls around his aching dick. He thrusts up into you, holding your ass as he pushes you against the wall, keeping you in position, the tip of his cock nudging your g spot with each stroke, you clench down on him, hands gripping onto his shoulders as he fucks up into you.

“Fuck, just like that, Tommy.” Your voice is breathy, panting, heart racing as Tom’s thrusts speed up, hands gripping your ass and your back arching into him, boobs pushing against his bare skin.

Swtchin’ the positions for you

You feel your back being ripped from against the wall, helping gently as Tom turns while holding you, your hands clinging to him as he pecks your lips, sitting on the edge of the bed. You unwrap your legs from his waist, pushing your knees onto the bed, Tom’s cock never leaving your grip the whole time. You start grinding on him, hips moving up and down slowly at first, finding that rhythm that sends you both into a euphoric state. Tom pulls you in for another kiss, feeling your body push up on his as you begin to bounce on his cock, clenching on him as you pull up before sitting back down, the friction rubbing your clit just enough. “Such a good girl for me.”

Cook in’ in the kitchen then I’m in the bedroom

You whimper, Tom’s hands squeezing your ass, guiding your movements along his dick. Your grip on his shoulders tightens, feeling yourself edging closer to your high. “You look so, fuck, so pretty bouncing on my cock, angel.” Tom’s voice is deep, raspy moans escaping his lips every so often as he watches his cock disappear into your pussy, your head rolling back as you continue your movements. Tom wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you into him again before swiftly placing you on the bed, rolling you onto your stomach and separating your legs, knees bent before thrusting back into you. You moan into the sheets below you, the new angle ensuring Tom’s cock hits deeper than before, hitting that sweet spot inside you. You lurch forward with each thrust from Tom, his arms either side of you, holding up his weight. Your eyes roll back, your hands gripping onto the sheets as Tom’s skin slaps yours, filling the room with lewd noises. Tom’s hand moves to your hair, gripping a fistful and pulling you up, you can hear your wetness as he fucks up into you. His fingers move from your hair around to your neck, fingers gripping your throat as he fucks you.

“God, you’re always so fucking tight for me.” Tom’s voice shakes, his thrusts becoming more erratic as he feels your cunt clench on him, your wetness making his movements easier, your back arching as Tom’s grip on your throat tightens ever so slightly, just enough to make you breathless in the best way. You moan, Tom’s tip hitting your g spot in a particularly sharp thrust, making you lurch forward. Tom pulls out, flipping the two of you over, so he’s lay back on the bed, you on top; “I want you to ride me, baby, reverse.”

I’m in the Olympics, way I’m jumping through hoops

You bend down to kiss Tom, moaning against his lips before turning around, legs either side of Tom’s hips as he guides his aching dick back to your soaked entrance, teasing your folds before pushing back into you. You push against him, sitting back on his cock, feeling Tom’s hips thrust up against your movements. You feel Tom’s hands grip your ass, he occasionally delivers sharp slaps to both your cheeks, leaving your ass stinging in the best way, your back arching with the pleasure. One of your hands rests on Tom’s thigh, the other moving between your legs to rub circles on your clit as you continue bouncing on his cock, your eyes squeezing shut in pleasure. “Fuck, Tom!”

Know my love infinite, nothing I wouldn’t do

“That’s it, baby, take all of me. Just like that, fuck,” Tom’s meeting your movements with his own, staring at your wet cunt concealing his thick cock, encouraging you to carry on; “keep rubbing your clit, love. Want you to cum on my cock.” You moan at his words, head rolling forward as you bounce on him, faster now, Tom hitting all the right angles inside you, your fingers working overtime on your sensitive clit, Tom hitting your g spot with every thrust. Your breathing is rapid, heart beating in your throat as your legs begin to shake, pussy clenching on Tom’s dick, his own hips thrusting erratically as he nears his high. “Cum for me, angel.”

That I won’t do

You do as told, hips slamming down as your cunt grips Tom’s dick, whimpers falling past your plump lips, bitten and bruised, as Tom reaches his own high, his cum shooting deep inside you as his hands grip onto your ass cheeks, his own legs shaking from his orgasm. You take a second to recover, panting as you come down from your high, pulling off Tom’s cock you feel his cum spill down your thighs. You turn around, straddling his hips as you flop down on top of him, Tom chuckling as he wraps his arms around you, tracing gentle circles on your bare shoulder as his other hand plays with your hair. You press a kiss to his collarbone, still exhausted from your activities.

Switchin’ for you

“Well, that was amazing.” Tom breathes, voice broken and chest rising and falling with his still rapid breaths.

“It’s always amazing with you, babe.” You giggle, fingers tracing the skin on his bulging bicep, his hand rested under his head. Tom presses a light kiss to your forehead, his arms gripping onto your waist before he flips you over again, you let out a quiet giggle before smiling devilishly up at him, hands reaching around his neck.

“I’m not done with you yet, love.”

taglist: (ignore)

@tomfknholland

[tinyyoungblood]

quarantine madness | t.h

summary: you knew quarantine with tom was going to drive you both nuts, but now he wants to reenact a scene from age of ultron and possibly break his back, and you’re ready to punch harry for going live on instagram to share his brother’s misery with the world

pairing: tom holland x reader

warnings: just fluff

requested by: @shythingstudentdragon

* * *

Thud.

“Y/N, are you awake?” A deep voice whispered.

You rubbed your throbbing temple and stared dizzily at the mop of brown curls. “I just body slammed the floor. Do you really think I could’ve slept through that?” He grinned cheekily and pulled you back up, but the simple motion made your head spin, and he was quick to steady you.

“Careful,” he said. You let out a paltry grunt and collapsed back onto the couch. Harry glanced at you for a moment before darting to the kitchen while muttering jumbled words under his breath. From afar, tiny exciting paws reverberated against the hardwood floor and you forced your eyes open to greet the precious bundle of joy.

To your luck, Harry had opened the blinds to the living room, allowing sharp sunlight to flood what once used to be the comfort of a dark cave. You almost hissed. Pitch-black eyes were jumping up and down in front of you and you were quick to scoop Tessa into your arms.

“Hey, baby,” you cooed. “Did you get here all by yourself?”

A snort sounded from the side, and your eyes flitted to a warm smile leaning against the doorframe.

“She did. She’s a big girl now. In fact, she drove us over all by herself, right, love?”

The couch dipped as Sam sat beside you to pet Tessa as she frantically whipped her head from side to side as if to wholeheartedly agree. A chuckle slipped from Sam’s lips before his gaze locked with yours. Concern crossed his eyes.

“Y/n.” He licked his lips tentatively. “I’m saying this in the nicest way possible, but you—”

“You look like shit.”

Harrison entered the room and crossed his arms with a look of disapproval and worry on his face.

Bemusedly drawing your brows together, you cocked your head and listened to the footsteps coming from the kitchen. “Is Twain also going to pop out of nowhere? How did you guys even come in?”

Silently walking over, Harry handed you a glass of water, his blank stare never wavering as you chucked the liquid.

“Spare key.”

Harry took the glass from you and placed it on the coffee table. “And Twain’s coming over later. Thought we might check in on you guys. See if you’re still alive.”

“It definitely doesn’t small alive in here,” Harrison said, grimacing.

Someone had opened the windows, and you had to admit it was nice to breathe crisp clean air again. Cowering under their worried looks, you crossed your legs and glanced at the clock on the wall. How was it already three o’clock?

“Okay, maybe quarantine got a bit over our heads,” you said and picked up a sock from the armrest. “But it’s not like we’ve gotten completely insane. We’ve just been…wasting away.”

Sam eyed the towering stack of Blue-Rays on the coffee table and a teasing grin swiped over his lips. “Wasting away with a movie marathon, I’m assuming?”

You smiled sheepishly and shrugged. “Not much else to do around here.”

Stretching your limbs with a gratifying sigh, you placed Tessa on Sam’s lap and stood up. “I’m hitting the shower, guys. Make yourself at home.” You gestured spiritlessly and patted Harry’s shoulder on your way out. Just as you stepped over the threshold, you spun around and stared at Haz’s leaning figure. “Where’s Tom?”

“Would you look at that.” He laughed, his crystal blue eyes loosening up from the stern gaze. “It only took you five minutes to remember your boyfriend’s existence. And they say romance is dead.”

Swatting his arm with a mock scowl, you looked around the living room and then spared a glance into the hall. “Seriously, we fell asleep on the couch together. Where is he?”

As if on cue, a loud thud bellowed from above, and your eyes widened. You had already turned on your heel and dashed upstairs before anyone could answer. The door to the office room fell open and you gawked at the sight ahead.

Tom was sprawled underneath the long velvet sofa, holding it up with both arms. He lowered it with a heavy grunt, and lifted it again with an even heavier grunt. He seemed to be deeply entranced in his action, not even taking notice of the footsteps nearing him until they stopped right by his side.

Stopping mid-action, he looked up and beamed at you. “Hello, darlimg.”

“Hi, love,” you said, amusedly. “Busy?”

“Uhm.” His eyes flickered to the sofa. “You could say that.”

“Just one question, Tommy.”

“Go ahead.”

“Why?”

Tom blinked at you. “What do you mean why? You know why.”

He was quick to scoot out from underneath, jump on his feet, and stand in front of you with the faintest scowl plastered on his face. You racked your hand through your tangled hair. “But I don’t. Should I know?”

His mouth fell open. “Yes. Yes, you should. You were there.” Your face remained expressionless. “Yesterday? When we watched the Age of Ultron scene on Clint’s farm?” Nothing. He groaned. “When Steve and Tony had an argument and Steve ripped that log in half, and you bet I could never do that?”

Finally, realisation crossed your mind. “Tom, I was half-asleep during that part. At that point, I was just mouthing gibberish,” you reasoned and laughed lightly, but it died down the second you realised Tom was not fining any trace of humor in this conversation. “You know I didn’t mean it, right?”

Vibrant blue caught your attention and your eyes flitted across the room to a blue yoga mat in the middle of the floor. “Oh no.” You groaned and let your head fall into your palms. “You’re going to rip a log in half?”  

Your question was muffled, but Tom caught it and nodded proudly when you met his gaze again.

“You could seriously injure yourself, you know that?” He hummed and leaned forward to press a soft kiss to your cheek before wandering over to the mat.

“For instance, you could get a splinter and die of blood loss.”

Again, he hummed while lowering himself to the ground, starting with slow pushups.

“And you would die before Spider-Man 3 was filmed and the whole world would just explode in chaos.”

“Yes, love. You’re right,” he said in between pushups and you sighed.

“You’re going to do it. You’re going to rip a log in half. I’m dating a maniac.” You threw your hands up and spun around when Tom hummed again, stopping what he was doing to lock eyes with you.

“I think the others are right. We’ve gone insane,” he said.

You nodded and hugged yourself as your giggle settled into a soft smile. Your expression melted at the sheer sight of your boyfriend making a complete fool of himself merely to prove his point. A second later you noted that he still managed to look too attractive for his own good.

Your eyes trailed the lines of his back muscles, screaming to tear his tight gym shirt in half, and down to his prominent bicep, flexing with each movement. Knowing there was no point in trying to persuade your competitive dork of a boyfriend, you left the room to take a much-needed shower.

The rest of the day went smoothly. As planned, Twain stopped by and together with the boys, you had managed to have a nice afternoon consisting of board games and trivial chatter. It was nice to be surrounded by other humans again, and you appreciated their company.

But what you appreciated a little less was Tom’s sudden spur of insanity. It’s been almost four hours and the guy didn’t find it in himself to stop preparing for what he had now titled the “Big Reveal”.

He was everywhere and nowhere. When you couldn’t find him plank in the middle of the living room, he was probably doing sit-ups on the staircase. At some point, you and the others had just accepted his new maniacal hyperfixation.

It was the kitchen encounter at 7.25 PM when you had finally found the courage to ask him the godforsaken question. It wasn’t by choice, really, but rather a lost bet with the others.

You were attempting casualty, maneuvering around his body to snatch a random bowl from the kitchen counter like it was the most normal thing—stirring air with a fork. Tom was currently doing pull-ups and you watched for a moment how his arms flexed and sweat glistened across the skin of his forehead.

“You alright, love?” His voice pulled you out of your trance and you shuffled on your feet.

Clearing your throat, you spotted the tiniest hint of a smirk revealing itself on his lips, and your eyes narrowed. “I’m good, thank you,” you snapped and rounded his body to stand in front of him. “You ready for the Big Reveal?” The words made you grin inevitably, but Tom didn’t notice. He plopped to the floor and beamed at you.

“I think so.” A smirk tugged at the corner of his lips. “Ready to regret yesterday’s words, love?”

                                  ───

“Wait, I didn’t agree to go live. Harry, no.” Tom’s warning fell on deaf ears as his brother simply grinned at him. He held up his phone and filmed the two of you with the back camera.

“Too late,” he mouthed and you were left with no other choice than to wave awkwardly.

“Hey, guys. Welcome to this very much unplanned Instagram Live.” He doted a mock glare in Harry’s direction and wrapped an arm around your waist to pull you closer to his side.

“Some of you might already know, but this is my lovely girlfriend Y/N. Trust me, she’s usually not this stiff.” Tom poked your side and flashed you a toothy grin. Playfully gasping, you leaned forward and spoke to the camera.

“Hi, guys.” You smiled. “Some of you might already know, but this is Tom. Our not-so-friendly neighbourhood psychopath.”

The boys snickered. You winked at the camera while Tom chuckled next to you. It was infectious and never failed to make you smile and feel at ease, so you continued your role as a moderator. After you had explained the absurdity of the situation and gestured to the provisional log standing representatively on the grass, it was time.

Stepping backward, you watched as Tom confidently, but with a certain waver of caution, picked up the log to examine it. A fleeting shimmer of doubt crossed his eyes but it was gone with the blink of an eye.

It seemed like the whole of London had agreed to stand still. There was only the sound of your droning heartbeat that filled your ears. The others had frozen completely. Even Tessa watched curiously.

Tom’s eyes flicked to yours and back to the camera. “If I break my back, you know who to sue.” He laughed heartily when you swatted his arm with a gasp.

“Just do it, Holland.”

And then it happened.

Gripping both sides of the log, Tom tugged at the piece of wood until it ripped down slowly in the middle and tore apart only a second later.

The yard exploded with noise.

The boys shouted, yelled, and cheered while running across the grass. Harry whipped from left to right like an excited child, trying to capture every moment.

Only you stayed put on the spot, your eyes flitting across the yard to the big ax stuck in another log. You cracked a private smile. It seemed as if only Tessa had caught on, and you winked at her knowingly. Your gaze wandered back to Tom and Haz who were both standing in front of Harry and talking to the phone.

“He might have lost his mind, but not this bet and never his fashion sense,” Harrison said proudly into the camera and Tom showered in glory.

Coming down from his blistering high, he turned around and his gaze landed on you. With a broadening smile, he was quickly by your side and smothering your cheek with tiny kisses.

“Thank you.” Kiss. “For doubting me.” Kiss. “I would’ve never made it if it weren’t for you.” Kiss. Harry came closer with his phone and you jokingly pushed Tom away, feigning a disgusted face.

“Move over, man. I don’t like you that much.”

The others laughed, and Tom leaned in, his warm breath fawning over your face as he chuckled. Lifting your chin with his hand, he guided your lips to his and captured them in a kiss.

“Get a room, mate!” Sam shouted from across the garden.

“There are children watching!” Harrison hissed.

You pulled back from the kiss and rolled your eyes at their quarrel, smiling. Unwrapping yourself from Tom’s embrace, you stepped back and gave the camera a two-finger-wave. “Alright, enough PDA. It was great to talk to you all.”

Just as you had turned around, a hand curled around your wrist and pulled you back.

“Not without me.” Tom leaned in again, nose bumping, and a dreamy smile hanging onto his lips. You huffed, but your grin betrayed you.

“Fine,” you said.

Tom pecked your lips and pulled away, hugging you even closer. He flashed you a cheeky smile and said, “But I’m not going, so neither are you.”

* * *

can’t believe i’m back. it’s only been like what? four years? :’) hope you liked this one! thanks for reading <3 

🦋 masterlist

taglist: @honeypie-holland​ @himarisolace​ @duskholland​ @insidiousslut​ @siriuslyslyslytherin​ @hollandsrecs​ @quaksonhehe​ @chloecreatesfictions​ @writertoo18​ @fl0ating​ @luwloki​ @missnxthingg​

[horansqueen]

Stuck With You - Chapter 37

Chapter 37: Save Me

🡪chapter 1  🡪chapter 2  🡪chapter 3  🡪chapter 4  🡪chapter 5  🡪chapter 6  🡪chapter 7  🡪chapter 8  🡪chapter 9  🡪chapter 10  🡪chapter 11 🡪chapter 12 🡪chapter 13 🡪chapter 14 🡪chapter 15 🡪chapter 16 🡪chapter 17 🡪chapter 18 🡪chapter 19 🡪chapter 20 🡪chapter 21 🡪chapter 22 🡪chapter 23 🡪chapter 24 🡪chapter 25 🡪chapter 26 🡪chapter 27 🡪chapter 28 🡪chapter 29 🡪chapter 30 🡪chapter 31 🡪chapter 32  🡪chapter 33 🡪chapter 34 🡪chapter 35 🡪chapter 36

College Enemies To Lovers AU

characters // masterlist // instagrams // mood board

Loving you like I never have before I'm needing you to open up the door If begging you might somehow turn the tides Then tell me to I've got to get this off my mind

I never thought I'd be speaking these words I never thought I'd need to say Another day alone is more than I can take

Won't you save me Saving is what I need I just want to be by your side Won't you save me I don't want to be Just drifting through the sea of life

click here to be on the update list

DEVON

                                              When I woke up, my lips curled immediately. My cheek was pressed against Niall's chest and he smelled amazing, so good in fact that I inhaled until my lungs were full and ended up rubbing my nose against him gently. I could barely believe that I had admitted my feelings to him. I didn't regret it, it was becoming very heavy on my shoulders, but at the same time, I didn't know if I was ready for a relationship, and I didn't know if he was either. I knew we'd have to talk about it but it scared me and I didn't want to hurt him or be hurt. I just wished things were easier, that we both hadn't been hurt by unworthy people in toxic relationships before. I knew that we would be able to give ourselves completely to each other if we hadn't had our hearts broken that way, and I hated knowing that my relationship with Henry could ruin what I had with Niall.

I kept my eyes closed but moved my chin up, leaving a small kiss near his chin and I heard him breathe in deeply before I felt his arms wrap around me. It made me realize how cold I was and how good it felt to have him hold me close. I shut my eyes tighter and tried to cuddle him more as I shivered in his arms.

"'Morning." he mumbled, making me smile.

"Good morning." I replied, my lips brushing on the skin of his neck. "I'm sure we would have slept better in the bed."

He chuckled and pulled me closer to him. "Yea, I'd bet a blowjob on it."

I chuckled and my eyes fluttered open. "That early in the morning? Really?"

He laughed a bit and bent down to reach my lips, pressing his against them a few times softly and letting out a low groan. I brought my hand and slipped my fingers in his hair, caressing it gently as I focused on the way his mouth felt. My heart fluttered and I felt so stupid but I really couldn't help it. When Niall kissed me, even in a simple way like he was, I felt like the whole world vanished, leaving only us two. It was scary but it was also magic, as cheesy as it sounded.

"Yes, really." he finally replied when his lips left mine. "Having my girlfriend's body pressed against mine tends to do that."

My heart seemed to stop and I held my breath. We hadn't discussed about our status yet and I was a bit surprised that he just assumed we were now dating. I couldn't blame him and I was not mad, but somehow, it was stressing me and I was not sure why.

"G-Girlfriend?"

He moved his face away a bit to look at me and my lips parted, my heart skipping a beat as I looked at him. It seemed surreal that someone like Niall wanted to date someone like me and at the same time, I felt so lucky to be loved by such an amazing man. Was that how real love felt like? Was that what it felt like to love someone who loves you back?

"I mean, I know we didn't really discuss it but," he shrugged a shoulder and ran his tongue on his bottom lip. "It sounds good, doesn't it?"

My traits softened and I pressed my lips together, just looking at him. He was right, it did sound good and I liked it more than I should. But at the same time, I felt my heart sink in my stomach at that thought.

"Niall, I don't know-"

I stopped suddenly and jumped when we heard the key turn in the lock. I found Niall's hand and squeezed his fingers tight, a bit scared that it was an employee and not one of our friends, but when the door opened, my jaw dropped at who was behind it.

"You're welcome." Abby said, sending us an amused smile, shaking the keys and making an annoying sound. "Noah sent me. He drank too much last night and we just saw your message. Took me half an hour to find which closet you guys were locked in."

I got up and Niall did the same, grabbing his boxers as I took my underwear and when I turned around, Abby's eyebrows were raised. It was hard to know what she was thinking about but she ended up just sighing and turning around.

"Hey, Abby, thanks." Niall finally said, following her out of the closet.

She turned around and sent him a small smile that disappeared immediately when Niall grabbed my hand in his. His intertwined our fingers and I swallowed hard as my heartbeats accelerated. Abby's gaze turned to me and once again, I held my breath. She was looking at me as if she was ready to jump on me and rip my eyes out but after a while, she just raised her chin and eyebrows up.

"You're welcome."

I sort-of expected Niall to let go of my hand when Abby had left but he didn't, and I felt stupid for thinking that. Niall was not doing this to make Abby jealous, he was doing it because he wanted to. He wanted to hold my hand and be with me. Was I really going to ruin this?

We took the elevator in silence and when we finally walked back in our room, I squeezed Niall's hand tighter, scared that he'd just let go. He pulled on it and turned around, walking slowly backward with a smile on his face and bringing me with him.

"We should really take a shower."

"Together?"

He nodded and the smirk on his face made me chuckle. I let him bring me to the bathroom and closed the door with one of my feet. I hated the way I was feeling, a mix of fear and happiness that made my stomach twist but my heart flutter at the same time.

He let go of my hand and cupped my face gently, bending down to kiss my lips.

"Let me help you, okay?"

I nodded and he just grabbed the bottom of my shirt, passing it over my head and messing my hair at the same time. I chuckled and he did too, his mouth quickly finding mine again as he pressed his smile against mine.

"I just knew you were not wearing underwear and I like that." he added in a whisper, a smirk still spread on his lips.

"Pervert." I replied with an other chuckle as he worked on my pants.

I quickly reached for the back of his shirt and helped him take it off as I pushed my pants away, focusing on taking off his. I laughed a bit when he pulled on his socks, almost tripping, and when we were finally naked, he started the shower, waiting for the water to get warm. It took only a few seconds and I followed him, placing the curtain back and tilting my chin to look in his eyes. I loved this intimacy more than I could explain and when he took a step back to get under the stream, I smiled more. I loved looking at him naked, and this time, it was not even sexual. I could understand why he was a model and I thought about all the pictures I could take at this exact moment.

"Come here." I whispered, making him raise his eyebrows. "Just bend down."

I grabbed the shampoo and poured some in my hands before bringing them to his head, rubbing my hands slowly his hair and scratching his skull at the same time. He groaned and his eyes closed, making me smile even more as I let my hands run on his chest and shoulders to wash him. He turned around and my fingers traveled on his back and down his butt and when I was done, he turned around slowly and bent down to kiss me again.

He didn't say anything but did the same to me, rubbing his hands slowly but gently in my hair before letting them slide on my shoulders, breasts and stomach. He reached for my back while kissing me again and I smiled against his lips when his hands brushed on my ass.

"Are you done?" I asked in a whisper, making him nod slowly.

"Mmhm, yea."

I rinsed my hair under the water and he did the same and we finally got out grabbing towels and walking back in our room. I shivered slightly and sat in bed before yawning. He walked to the other side and pulled on the blankets before laying down in bed. I frowned but I did the same, shivering as I let my towel fall on the carpet.

"I can't believe Abby's the one who unlocked us." he finally said, shaking his head and chuckling again.

"And she was pissed, too."

Niall turned around in bed and when I turned my head to look at him, he was frowning.

"Really? I didn't notice."

He seemed sincere and it made my lips curl. I couldn't believe he hadn't realized that taking my hand had bothered Abby so much that she was not able to hide the annoyed expression on her face. I felt Niall's hand slide on my stomach and he pulled me closer, turning my body his way so we were facing each other. His fingertips ran up and down my back softly, making goosebumps appear on my skin as his eyes moved slowly on my face, making me blush slightly. He probably couldn't see it though, since the curtains were closed and despite the room not being completely in the dark since it was sunny outside.

"This is how we should have slept last night." he pointed out after a few minutes of silence. "We should nap."

"Okay."

I felt his forehead lean against mine and I closed my eyes, my lips curling slightly. It felt so good to be close to him and it made me think of all the days we had spent together at his apartment, making me want to go back there desperately.

I was almost asleep, my mind creating scenarios of us together, when I heard his voice.

"Devie..."

"Mm."

"I love you."

--

I woke up feeling Niall's hand run on one of my breasts before moving to the other. Somehow, I had turned around when I was asleep and we were now spooning. I could feel his hard cock press on my ass and I whimpered low, my eyes still closed. I loved knowing he wanted me and somehow, it made me feel desirable for the first time in my life.

"Fuck, I want you." he whispered near my ear.

I smiled more and grabbed my hair, moving it away from him, immediately feeling his lips pressed on my neck as he ground on my ass.

"I dreamed about you riding me." he added low, nibbling gently on my lobe and making my eyes flutter. "You're gonna have to ride me tonight baby."

"Mm, why not now?"

"Because I'm way too horny and this is going to be quick."

I felt two of his fingers slip inside me from behind and quickly, he replaced them with his cock. He pushed it slowly inside me as I felt my clit throb and when he was completely in, I squirmed a bit to feel him even deeper. One of his hands traveled on my side until my thigh and he started thrusting in and out of me slowly, his mouth leaving soft kisses on my shoulder and making me shiver.

"I love you so much." he murmured in-between kisses. "You feel so good, fuck."

I could feel myself throb around him and even if I was extremely horny, I tried to focus on his words and the softness of his kisses and caresses. I had never felt that kind of love, especially not while I was having sex, and I ended up wondering if it was what 'making love' was all about. His hand slid very slowly until my breasts again and my eyes fluttered when his fingertips brushed on my nipples. My lips parted and I let out a short moan, making his movements slightly faster.

"Jesus... fuck."

I felt him push himself hard against me as he leaned his forehead on my shoulder and the thought of him cumming made me feel dizzy. When he came down from his high, he was panting and he just moved away to lay on his back. I chuckled and did the same as we stayed in silence for a few minutes. After a while, he turned around on his side and I felt his hand slip down my stomach again to reach between my legs. Instinctively, I spread my legs and he sent me a smile, holding his head with his hand.

I felt two of his fingers slip inside me and finally go back to my clit, rubbing it gently at first and a bit faster after a minute or two. I loved that I didn't have to ask him to make me cum and when I felt an orgasm form in the pit of my stomach, my eyes shut tight and my back arched as I held my breath. I came hard, my body shaking as he kept touching me until I( relaxed on the bed.

I kept my eyes close until I felt him move on top of me to kiss my lips, making me whimper in his mouth.

"You make me happy, Devie, so fucking happy."

I smiled and looked in his eyes, moving my head to reach for his lips again. "You make me happy too."

I put my head back on the pillow, a smile still plastered on my face, and when he bent down to kiss me again, we heard someone knock roughly at the door.

"Okay you two! It's time to get out of there! We're going out for dinner!" I recognized Lewis voice and chuckled a bit when Niall grimaced.

"Yea, put your clothes back on, you two had enough sex for today!" Louis added, making me smile even more.

Niall peeled away from me with a sigh and got up, grabbing a pair of boxers in his bag and putting them on before doing the same with a shirt.

"We're coming!" I just yelled. "We'll be downstairs in 10 minutes!"

I got up and started dressing up as I heard Niall groan again near me. "They're so fucking annoying." he mumbled, making me smile.

"Hey, we're here to spend time with our friends, yea?" I pointed out, using the same words he had used with me the day before.

"I am!" he pointed out, making me laugh.

We went to a restaurant on the main street and laughed a lot. Niall didn't mention anything about us and I was thankful for that. I was not ready to share it with anyone if only because I was not even sure of what I wanted. Saying it out loud would also make if official and I wanted to have a discussion with Niall first, even if I was dreading it.

We ended up walking back to the hotel and I watched Mandy bend down to grab some snow, forming a ball with it and throwing it at her brother. I knew immediately where this would lead and not even a minute later, we were all throwing snowballs at each other. I heard laughs and a few screams as I tried to dodge all the projectiles thrown at me and when one hit me behind the head, I turned around to see Louis smirking at me and raising his eyebrows.

"Gotcha!"

I was about to throw one back at him but Niall beat me to it. The snowball hit Louis right in the face and my lips parted in surprise until Louis wiped the snow from his face, spitting some that had landed in his mouth. I started laughing as Niall smirked and Louis finally turned to Niall, clearly up for revenge.

"Touché!"

He started running after him and I laughed when Louis jumped on Niall's back, making him fall down. They ended up both laying on their backs in the snow and I moved over Niall, smiling at him and holding out my hand for him.

"Need help?"

He smiled but instead to let me help him up, he pulled on my arm, making me fall on top of him. I let out a small scream and started laughing when he wrapped his arms around me. I knew all our friends were near and I didn't know who was actually looking at us but all I cared about was the way Niall was looking at me.

"You said you'd try snowboarding with me." he pointed out in a very low tone.

"I'm better at snowball fights." I admitted, pressing my lips together and raising my nose up, still laying on top of him.

"Come on, please."

I sighed and gave in after a few seconds. "Alright, when?"

"Tonight! I'll show you the basics."

We stared in each other's eyes for a while and I realized that I couldn't tell him no, not when he was looking at me like that, and I finally nodded. His hand reached for my cheek and I felt his warm fingertips on my cold cheeks. His eyes fell on my lips before quickly looking back in my eyes and it made me smile.

"Come on you two! Or we're leaving you here!"

We laughed together and finally got up, trying to get rid of the snow on our clothes before to join our friends. I felt Niall's finger brush against mine as we walked and my heart skipped a beat. I loved him way more than I was ready to admit but I knew that eventually, I'd have to open up completely, no matter how scary it was.