#except in that one golden phone warning video

[sugashook]

OH OH OH OH did wade never even jokingly flirt with logan or anything close to that because of the "they flirt with the dangerous guy they don't take him home" but he did the opposite.

ohhh look at thattt

[artsninspo]

FORGIVELESS - VIII - I DON'T MIND COMPETITION, IT IS WHAT IT IS 📸

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➨ rio's library - good girl nbc

「 ✦ full library & archive ✦ 」

Pairing: Rio (Good Girls) X Reader

Word Count: ~2.3K

Warning: Mentions of alcohol, adult themes, mentions of cheating & divorce.

Summary: James gets sent divorce papers. Our fav's enjoy some quality time in Mexico. The reader gets to spend some time with Rio and his family. This one's a messy, feel good and 😬 😱 update.

VIII - I DON'T MIND COMPETITION, IT IS WHAT IT IS 📸

The curtains dance in the wind caused by the slight morning breeze. It’s quiet with the exception of the resort's wildlife. This kind of peace and serenity is out of this as unreal as your gorgeous accommodations. Smiling, you take a few photographs of the view from the living room window. The glow emanating from your skin isn’t of the woman with the cheating husband. Your growing tan with golden undertones is courtesy of one man and one man only - Rio. He’d scuttled out of bed almost an hour ago now. As silent as he had been you knew from the moment he stopped being the big spoon. Last night was a fantasy. A look into a life you’d never fathomed for yourself. Rio’s level of care and attention to detail was new. So was the reciprocity. Rio’s present, he’s attentive, encouraging and a man that takes great care of the people and things he loves. You find yourself still on cloud nine, like Rio had screwed you to a point of clarity. Taking your phone from the coffee table you head out on the balcony and into the fresh air. Your inbox is full of emails from James, they run the gamut of emotions from begging to get you back, to gaslighting and finally accusing you of the very thing that was the demise of your marriage - cheating. You really shouldn't respond but you do by attaching a PDF copy of the divorce papers you filled out before getting on the plane. You head onto social media and see notifications for several missed video calls from your soon to be ex-husband’s business account. You block that too, removing all evidence of him from your page. You then take a photo of your current view, the trees dancing in the wind and post to your story. The phone rings and you tense until you see the call is coming from Rio and smile.

“Hey”

“Hey mama” his smooth voice says on the other end.

“Thanks for leaving breakfast” you say.

“No problem, Mama,” Rio responds.

“Is everything alright with your suit?” you ask.

“Yeah but fuck Nick, man. He’s lucky I’m here” Rio mutters being sour. You snicker, turning from the view of the trees and beach on the horizon to the incredible interior of the villa. “Y/N, you're gonna make someone catch a case showing off all that ass in that little night dress” Rio adds and you turn back around eyes scanning the canopies and then the trail where you find Rio below, smiling with the phone to his ear.

“Lucky I have on clothes at all with how you left me” you remind him. The call ends and Rio heads up to the room. The way you made him feel was new to him. He’d never felt like this before, he’d never allowed himself too. Whenever he felt himself getting too comfortable he withdrew. No woman was ever worth the headache or the effort. Keeping things untethered was his forte and second nature to him. Not now. Not with you. More surprising than anything was the fact that Rio didn’t want to run. He couldn't fathom it. He didn’t want to take off without getting to know you properly. He wanted to hear your ideas and problems and provide solutions wherever he could.  He wanted to be someone dependable for you. Someone who makes you smile and keeps you happy. Unlocking the door to the room he smiles, thankful his silent feud with Nick led him to cashing out on the best suite on the resort, whereas Nick got the best view. Closing the door behind him Rio takes a few steps into the sunken living area to meet you on the balcony.

“Next time don't leave without saying goodbye” you mutter as he hugs you from behind placing kisses on your cheeks and neck.

“I just thought you needed your rest, you know I wore you out last night” Rio teases.

“Shut-up” you giggle holding his arms around you. The two of you stand there in silence looking out into the trees and then the faint view of the ocean in the distance. “Rio?” you ask after a moment of comfortable silence in his arms.

“Mhhm?” he questions, you feel the vibration as he pecks your cheek again..

“I really want to manage my expectations, after last night i’m ….” you pause and Rio pulls away you turn to face him and he looks to you suddenly guarded and all business. “I don’t really have any experience with ‘casual'. I guess what I'm saying is this feels intimate, it feels like more … if it's not you have to let me know so I can reel it in.” you confess. Brown eyes and an unreadable expression hold your gaze before a smirk plays at his lips.

“Before last night I wasn't going anywhere, after last night it was solidified. I only have experience with casual so youre gonna have to be patient with me babygirl and speak up whenever you feel a way or have questions” Rio responds level headed and cool as always. Your smile is genuine and he comes in for another kiss.

“So when we go back?” you ask.

“You can stay with me, my place is big enough for the two of us. If you want your own place that’s cool too but I’ma need a key” Rio says.

“That's fast” you remark.

“I work late mama, and I don't want to wake you up to get the door and let me in. If I have a key I can come in, shower and slide into bed with you; no issues” Rio says, already making plans to suit his growing appetite for your presence and touch.

“I”m afraid I’ll stop being a good time to you. I sent James divorce papers this morning. One of his friends' wives saw us at the airport yesterday. James knows and I can't imagine he’ll make it easy on me” you explain only to watch Rio’s demeanour harden. His mood change is eerie and his entire aura is intimidating. You’d step back if it wasn't for the railing at your back.

“James playing with what’s mine is not in his best interest” Rio’s words are as unplanned as the claim he’s laid on you. “He’s done mama, he’s a bitch and depending on his next moves it’s not looking too good. I haven't forgotten about him getting rough with you” Rio says in bad humour. “I don't want you afraid of anyone breathing alright, anyone messes with you and you tell me. I’ll take care of it” he asserts.

“What if it's you?” you ask, trying to lighten the mood.

“Tell my Granny, she’ll kick my ass” he smirks. “Now go get ready, there’ll be a lot of pictures” Rio smiles patting your butt as he leads you back into the room to start wedding prep.

The entire day feels like something out of your wildest dreams. There's been no major communication between the two of you, and still Rio has managed to make you feel important. His family has made you feel included and the happiness of the day's celebration is contagious. It’s hard to imagine how you've survived so long getting so little from a man who had promised to love you forever. You dance with Rio’s family and his Granny for what feels like hours laughing and smiling with them as Rio watches from his table. It’s clear to see that mister serious doesn’t dance. But the vibe of the reception venue is eerily familiar to that of his clubs. Needing to catch your breath you acquire a bottle of water and head over to him. He sends you a lazy smile draping his arm around you.

“Are you drunk or just a dancing machine?” he asks now, taking a few appetisers and placing them on a plate in front of you. It seemed like there was an infinite amount of food.

“Maybe a little tipsy” you confess taking a taquito. His family members had convinced you to take a few tequila shots and you'd obliged against your constitution. As a non drinker you’re already feeling it.

“Mhm” Rio smiles amused by how well you fit in.

“Tell me this if you can't stand your cousin, why did you help with the reception?” you ask. Rio is taken back and does a poor job of trying to hide the amusement in his eyes.

“I don't know what youre talking about,” he mumbles.

“Rio, all your venues are like this and you were gone too long for a suit fitting this morning” you confess looking up at him.

“It was an opportunity to partner with a hotel chain, very profitable for me. It doesn't have shit to do with Nick” he says with nonchalance. It’s a testament to his character and a green flag.

“Ok” you smirk not pushing him.

“It was for Marisol,” he smiles, breaking character.

“Can I get a picture?” the photographer says and Rio leans in. You do too, smiling before the blinding flash. “Gorgeous” the photographer smiles at you.

“Not too much” Rio asserts and you laugh as the photographer prints two polaroids from a belt on his hip.

“My bad man,” he smiles, walking away. You look at the photo and it's clear how well you and Rio fit. He’s not smiling in the picture, he's looking at you like he's a starving animal and you're his favourite meal. You crane your neck back and his lips find yours without instruction. It’s scary how in sync you are. Scary how comfortable this feels.

“You ready?” he asks.

“Sure, let me say goodbye” you sit upright.

“Mama, tonight we’re Irish,” he says, standing ready to leave.

“Don't do the Irish like that, just say you're rude” you smile taking his hand.

“My family is rude for hogging you all night knowing you're too polite to walk away.” he mumbles, making his escape with you in tow.

“Y/N, we never got a picture and I didnt get your socials” one of his cousins shouts coming over with the photographer. Turning you pose with the gorgeous girl, thanking the photographer as you exchange phones and contact information.

“Rio, how’d you snag her with your mean ass” she says sticking her tongue out at him.

“None of your business and I'll remember that the next time your SA calls from Chanel” Rio remarks, matching her energy. His cousin smiles giving you another hug.

“No he wont, he’s a big softie. But we should hang out once you're back home Y/N.” she says dismissing Rio.

You nod liking the idea of new friendship, “Sounds good.”

“Can I share your info with the others?” She asks and you nod. “And if he acts up, call me.” she says with a pointed finger and big energy. She reminds you of the rapper Lola Brooke. Looking at the contact information you see her name is Tia.

“I don’t think that’ll happen. Rio’s good to me” you smile.

“Open ended invitation” she shrugs.

“Goodnight Tia” Rio groans, turning you around.

“Love you” She laughs as you both walk away. Rio chuckles, shaking his head. He hadn't realised how good it felt to see you happy and unguarded. To see you smiling and laughing with the familial relation he reserved his love for was something else. They’d never been rude to anyone he brought around but they’d never taken to anyone like they'd taken to you. All he’d heard for the entirety of the day was that you were a keeper. It was like playing a broken record. He had no intentions of letting you go but his family talking to you was further confirmation. He checks his phone while in the shower to make sure things are running smoothly on the business front and goes onto social media to see Tia’s highlight reel of the day. He taps through seeing you in multiple shots and the last is a photo of the polaroid. Captioned: stop asking guys; she's taken by my cousin, you don’t want those problems. Smiling, Rio clicks on the tag, hitting follow himself.

Feeling right about you and the night he takes a polaroid out of his pocket, snapping a photo of it, tagging you and posting it to his story. 

Getting out of the shower you lotion your skin doing your night routine before checking your phone. You have several follow requests to accept, and do so quickly before checking your DM’s. You shake your head at a few attempts to get your attention from men and find a few from Tia. You repost two to your story and the bathroom door opens to Rio with a towel hanging low on his waist.

“Don’t look at me like that, I made plans for us tomorrow and you like to sleep in” he warns. Smiling, you roll your eyes heading to the bedroom. You put on another babydoll set and finish going through your socials when you find one from Rio. His handle is mysterious just like him, the page is mostly about business, reviews and write ups for his clubs, very few photographs of him. You check his story and see a photo of the two of you with you tagged along with a black heart. Your smile burns your cheeks as you hit the screen reposting it onto your own story. He’s quicker than you were and comes out of the shower in shorts, carrying a carafe of water with him. He has no idea what he’s in for with the mix of tequila and romantic gestures coursing through your body. Pulling back the plush sheets you straddle him and he smiles knowing he can't say no to you. You feel his manhood begin rising to attention and lean forward lowering to slowly kiss him. The kisses are so perfect, so slow and sensual that no further foreplay is required.

Tomorrow will have to wait, tonight you take care of your man.

Authors Note: Thank you all so much for reading. I hope you enjoyed this chapter and things being a lot lighter for Rio and the reader. How are we liking the developing relationship. What was your favourite part and what do you think happens next?

» next part

TAGS: @meadows5 @wnbweasley @becauseimher @ariiaeltheedonn @woahthatshitfat @miniaturehideoutmentality @kokobells @ffenthusiastt @sowhatariyana @1xtral1983 @theegoddessofmelanin @fictionalreads

[sweetwolfcupcake]

A Gentleman

Secret Garden

Category: Drabble

John Wick x Reader

Warning: Yandere/Obsessive behaviour, stalking.

Unedited

There were a few subtle traits she had noticed about John. Like, while walking on the side path, he would always take the side of the road, while keeping her on the safer one. He also walked a step behind her– not something immediately noticeable but while walking back to her house from the grocery with him for the fourth time, she couldn't help but take notes of the pattern.

“Didn’t you bring your car?”

John shrugged “No, needed some fixing. Besides, I prefer to walk sometimes.” 

There was a hint of something akin to a smile on his face. Under the golden glow of streetlights, his eyes seemed to have a language of their own. (Y/N) bumped into him at the store often. John was the kind but aloof neighbour she thought everyone needed at least once in a lifetime.

She did not see him often, except for grocery shopping and sometimes, he would sit by himself on one of the few isolated park benches, watching, or thinking-- one could never tell from afar.

It was a miracle that he spoke to her first— he did not seem to be of the kind to initiate any conversation— but speaking to him felt good. She never heard his voice raised– his quiet, deep voice along with dry humour was appealing to her, and in (Y/N)’s dictionary, the number of times they had walked back to their apartment building together and made random commentary on things and people (mostly her) with the sprinkle of John’s dry humour, she and he could be considered friends.

He carried three bags– one his, two hers while she was allowed to keep the lightest one for herself. He was quite old school regarding such mannerisms, she had come to realise that. And while she there would be countless arguments against it, she had come to like his ways. The courteous, elusive and somewhat aloof enigma of a gentleman who was always high on his traditional manners, always polite and often fed stray cats and dogs.

Everything about John indicated that he was a good man. So, she never had a second thought before inviting him into her apartment for coffee. He had carried her grocery bags all the way to her home, at least she could make him feel welcome and comfortable. 

She was sure he would politely decline but he just gazed down at her for a momant or two before asking-

“Are you sure?”

She blinked. “Yes? Yes, John, please come in, I have no problem.”

His gaze melted from the strange intrigue to something soft, almost amiable. She was sure she saw the corner of his lips quirk up a bit before she opened her door wider and invited him in.

“How do you like your coffee?”

“Huh?” he was distracted, looking around when she asked.

“How would you like coffee?” She asked again with an amused smile.

“The way you make it.”

Smooth.

“Okay, please take a seat.” With that, she went into her kitchen, preparing two steaming hot cups.

John sat on the sofa– it felt unreal to be in her home, invited. His eyes glanced at the ceiling fan above— the small opening blinked green twice before disappearing into the darkness– the usual cycle of every two hours. He glanced at his phone, the live video of him sitting in her livingroom showed that the device worked just fine.

His eyes found her form again, moving around to make coffee, oblivious to his eyes fixed on her form– silent, observing and moving along with her– noting each movement with a strange kind of fixation and tenderness. 

She was, unlike him, so defenseless, unguarded, alive…

John glanced at the ceiling fan again before dropping his gaze right before she turned around with a smile and two steaming mugs.

He could not help but feel his heart thump. His calm and collected surface shook at the sight of her beaming smile.

He needed the camera. She needed him.

He told himself as he accepted his coffee, relishing the way her fingers grazed against his.

****

Inspired by @johnwickb1tsch's Bittersweet. I realised that as soon as I finished writing with my eyes half-open. Go read the amazing fic.

So, what do you think? Should I post something darker or keep things on edge for now?

[n0vazsq]

Secret's safe with me | JMM21 x Reader

pairing . . . pepe marti x gf!reader

summary . . . You though you'd never hear your boyfriend sing a Lana Del Rey song, until you heard him humming it one afternoon

request . . . yes!! based on this request!

word count . . . 1.2k+

warnings . . . none!

faceclaim . . . N/A

alexavia yaps . . . dni i love this sm <33 anyhow might publish like two more fics before i die

taglist . . . @barcapix ,, @f1lover55 ,, @ilovebarcaaa ,, @httpsdana (lmk if you want to join the taglist!)

. . . The apartment was unusually quiet that afternoon, except for the occasional soft clink of dishes from the kitchen and the faint hum of the air conditioning.

You were curled up on the couch, legs tucked under a blanket, flipping through your phone but not paying much attention to anything on the screen.

Pepe had been in the kitchen for a while, moving around in that half distracted way he always did when he was deep in thought, or hungry.

You could just barely see him over the counter, his hair falling messily over his forehead as he stared into the fridge like it might reveal some grand secret.

"You’re going to burn a hole into that yogurt carton if you keep staring at it like that," you teased, finally breaking the silence.

Pepe turned his head, raising a brow. "I’m trying to figure out if it’s expired."

"It’s yogurt, not a time bomb. Just open it and smell."

"That’s disgusting."

"Oh, I’m disgusting?" You smirked, leaning your chin on your palm as you watched him. "You’ve eaten mystery leftovers before without hesitation. Yogurt is the least of your problems."

Pepe rolled his eyes but couldn’t hide the little smile tugging at his lips. He finally grabbed the yogurt and a spoon, muttering something in Spanish under his breath as he set it on the counter.

"What was that?" you asked, narrowing your eyes playfully.

"Nothing," he replied quickly, though the way his shoulders shook with a stifled laugh said otherwise.

The soft homely feeling of the moment made you smile to yourself. It was so normal, the kind of quiet afternoon you didn’t realize you loved so much until it was happening.

No chaos, no noise. Just Pepe’s soft presence, the golden sun filtering through the blinds, and the occasional sound of him muttering about questionable fridge items.

And then, out of nowhere, you heard it. The humming.

At first, you weren’t even sure you’d heard right. It was so faint that it blended into the background noise, but as the seconds ticked by, the sound became clearer.

A melody.

You paused, tilting your head slightly as your ears strained to catch it. There was no mistaking it. Pepe was humming a tune, soft and slow, almost absentminded as he grabbed a bag of chips. And the more you listened, the more familiar it became.

Lana Del Rey.

A grin spread across your face as you recognized 'Video Games', and you couldn’t help the quiet laugh that bubbled up. Pepe Marti, humming Lana? You couldn’t have made this up if you tried.

That’s when you called out to him, unable to let this moment pass.

"Pepe," you called casually, trying to keep your voice neutral.

"Hm?" he hummed absentmindedly, his back still to you.

"Are you… humming Lana Del Rey right now?"

The noise stopped immediately. You could see the exact moment he froze, the crinkle of the chip bag pausing midair. Slowly, so slowly, he turned his head to look at you, his face a mixture of confusion and guilt.

"No," he lied, far too quickly.

"Oh my god," you snorted, sitting up on the couch. "You were! You were humming Video Games! Are you a Lana fan, Pepe?"

His cheeks flushed instantly, a light pink tint crawling up to his ears as he set the chips down on the counter, avoiding your eyes. "I wasn’t humming anything," he mumbled, voice soft but defensive.

"Oh, don’t even try to deny it," you teased, already grinning as you swung your legs over the couch. "What’s next? Are you gonna admit you secretly cry to Summertime Sadness?"

Pepe groaned, dragging a hand down his face as he turned fully to face you. "You’re so dramatic," he said, though the embarrassed smile he was trying to hide gave him away.

"Me? Dramatic?" You pointed at him. "I just caught you humming one of the most iconic girly songs of all time. Pepe Marti, you have layers. I’m impressed."

He sighed, shaking his head as he walked toward you. "You’re making a big deal out of nothing," he grumbled, though you could tell he wasn’t actually upset, more flustered than anything. "It’s just catchy, okay?"

"‘It’s just catchy,’" you mimicked in an exaggerated voice, biting back another laugh. "Come on, don’t act like you don’t know all the lyrics."

"I don’t!"

"Oh, really? Then why don’t you finish the verse for me? It’s you, it’s you, it’s all for you-"

Pepe’s eyes widened in panic as you started singing dramatically, trying, and failing, not to laugh as you pointed at him. "Stop," he groaned, but his smile betrayed him.

"-everything I do," you continued, drawing out the words and watching his face redden further. "Tell you all the time…Heaven is a place on Earth with you!"

"Okay, okay!" Pepe finally caved, grabbing one of the couch pillows and lightly tossing it at you to shut you up. "Fine! I like the song, happy?"

Your laughter filled the room as you hugged the pillow to your chest triumphantly. "I knew it!" you declared, beaming at him. "Honestly, you’ve got good taste, Marti. Lana is a vibe. You’re just a little softie, huh?"

Pepe rolled his eyes, but the small, sheepish smile on his lips was undeniable. "I am not a softie."

"Sure you aren’t, pretty boy," you teased, winking at him. "Next thing I know, you’re gonna tell me you’ve got a Lana playlist saved on Spotify."

There was a pause. Pepe hesitated, his expression suddenly shifting as if he’d been caught again.

You gasped. "No way."

"I don’t!" he insisted quickly, though the crack in his voice gave him away.

"Oh my god, you totally do!" You clutched the pillow tighter, dissolving into laughter as Pepe ran a hand through his hair, looking helpless.

"Stop teasing me," he muttered, though his smile lingered as he sat on the armrest of the couch.

"But it’s so easy when you’re like this!" You grinned up at him, the playfulness in your voice softening as you noticed the warmth in his eyes; the way he looked at you, equal parts embarrassed and endeared.

"Yeah, yeah," he mumbled, leaning down just enough to flick your forehead lightly. "You’re the worst, you know that?"

"And yet, here you are," you shot back smugly.

He didn’t reply immediately, but he watched you with that soft, boyish look, one that made the teasing air crackle with something sweeter. His voice dropped just a bit.

"Yeah, here I am," he said quietly, his lips twitching into something softer than a smirk.

The moment lingered longer than you expected, the teasing quieting as his eyes stayed locked on yours. He looked so ridiculously fond, like he couldn’t believe you were real. It was enough to make your heart thud a little harder.

You broke the silence first, covering up the butterflies. "Your secret's safe with me." you teased, pushing his arm lightly, "Anyway, don’t start humming Young and Beautiful next or I’m never letting you live it down."

Pepe groaned, standing up to head back toward the kitchen. "Good," he muttered, though you swore you heard him quietly humming again, this time just loud enough for you to catch it.

It was 'Young and Beautiful' this time.

And you couldn’t help but smile.

[supernovafics]

series masterlist | last part — next part

pairing: modern!actor!steve harrington x fem!reader

word count: 3.2k words

warnings: asshole!steve, explicit language

summary: you're hoping for the best, perhaps even some sort of miracle, but from the first phone call to the first meeting, it's pretty clear that everything that has been said about him is oh so true

CHAPTER ONE | ❝𝒔𝒐𝒎𝒆 𝒓𝒖𝒎𝒐𝒓𝒔 𝒉𝒐𝒍𝒅 𝒕𝒓𝒖𝒕𝒉❞

Steve Harrington’s Newest Film Wins Big at Golden Globes but Actor nowhere to be found at the Awards Show… Partying in Vegas Instead? Full story here!

YouTuber calls Steve Harrington a “Jerk” and “Extremely rude” in podcast documenting her time working with him on the 2020 film “When the World Ends”

Steve Harrington: Another Pretentious Actor or Misunderstood Recluse?

Watch this video of Steve Harrington flipping off Paparazzi in NYC

You’d gone down somewhat of a rabbit hole.

And at first it was supposed to help you. 

There was no problem you couldn’t solve, and this Steve Harrington problem was just another thing to check off of your never ending list. You were in search of any piece of information that would tell you that the next three months being his assistant would not be the absolute worst. Anything that said that he was at least somewhat of a good guy, that the narrative of him being an asshole wasn’t actually the only narrative out there.  

However, you’d ended up feeling even more worried than how you initially felt when Jessie told you everything hours earlier. It seemed as if every article about him included something bad, and the only good thing they would say about him was how great of an actor he was— how he was close to being the next Leo DiCaprio, Joaquin Phoenix, etc etc— which you already knew and didn’t care that much about because that information wouldn’t help solve your problem. Him being a good actor didn’t mean that he had a good personality, and every single article seemed to tell you exactly that; except the paparazzi thing because that sounded completely justified since paparazzi sucked. 

In the end, when you forced yourself out of the hole because it was nearing midnight and you had to wake up early, you convinced yourself that maybe all of those articles weren’t even completely true. It wouldn’t be the first time that celebrity news outlets exaggerated their stories to make them more interesting; maybe his reputation as an insanely rude person was actually not as true as it was portrayed to be. And you let that hopeful, and potentially delusional, thought put you to sleep. 

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Jessie: Here’s Steve’s number

Jessie: Once again, thank you for doing this!

You’d forgotten that you asked her for his phone number last night during your deep dive of him. 

You simply stared at it for a moment before texting Jessie back a quick “Thank you” and moving on to look at the other notifications that were taking over your phone; the slew of emails that came through in the middle of the night and early morning along with voicemails from calls you’d already missed because even though it was early for you, on the east coast it was already almost ten. It probably wasn’t healthy to wake up and immediately throw yourself into your work, but it felt like second nature at this point.

When there was somewhat of a lull in your day and you were sitting on your couch after enduring an hour-long Zoom call with the Executive Producers of the movie along with the heads of every department to make sure that everyone was on the same page for filming, you decided to finally call Steve. It felt slightly weird having to call him instead of a secondary person to talk about what you needed to, but you didn’t want to call his actual assistant who was probably not supposed to be thinking about her job right now.

You honestly didn’t expect him to answer, and you thought you’d have to leave a voicemail and hope that he’d get back to you sooner rather than later, but he answered on the fourth ring with a quick, “Hello?” 

“Hey,” You responded and then tried to mask the surprise in your voice by letting out a small cough. “I got your number from Jessie Robbins. I’m going to be your assistant during the filming of Fear of Lonesome. My name is–”

“Doesn’t matter,” He interrupted you. “You said you’re going to be my new assistant?”

You still told him your name anyway and then answered his question. “Yes, just for the three months of filming. I wanted to call before it starts in a week. Just to get any numbers that are important, or if there’s any specific information I should know.” 

He sighed as if he was completely annoyed by your voice and the fact that you were calling him right then. “My other assistant has all of that information. I’ll text you her number.” 

“Um, okay, thanks. But–”

He hung up before you could finish your statement and you stared at your phone for a moment before dropping it next to you on the couch. That short interaction with him was more than enough to let you know that those articles you read last night were all so very true. 

You let out a sigh in frustration and then another one when your phone pinged with a text message from him with the number of his real assistant. According to the text, her name was Sheila. 

There was no way that you were going to call a pregnant woman that was on bedrest due to stress; stress that you quickly concluded was probably caused by this job and having to deal with Steve Harrington on a daily basis. 

Therefore, you instead decided to text her, asking the same stuff that you’d just asked Steve, but barely five minutes from the moment you hit send, she called you. 

“Hello?”

“Hi, I would’ve texted you back, but all of this felt like way too much to type,” She began and then immediately continued. “I sent Steve all of the information that the new assistant would need, and why I am not at all surprised that he didn’t give it to you. Text me your email and I’ll send you the folder. It has the numbers for everyone else on his team, and there’s also a calendar with all of his commitments and stuff for the next few months. It’s pretty empty because of filming, and he likes to fully prioritize that, but his publicist might throw something in here and there because he likes to force him to do some public events even though Steve despises them. So, I’d say just check it every now and again.” 

That folder sounded like the holy grail. You could feel your frustrations slowly easing away. “Yes, thank you so much.”

“No problem. I hope that will make things a bit easier for you. Steve can be pretty intense most of the time,” Sheila said, and that made you further imagine what these three months would be like; signs were still pointing to bad. 

“Can I ask you something?” 

“Yeah, of course.”

“Why is he…” You trailed off unsure of the best way to finish your question.

“An asshole?” Sheila concluded for you, and it was hard to bite back your laugh.

“I was gonna be slightly nice and just say rude, but yours works too.” You said, letting out another small laugh. “Why is he like that?” 

“He’s just really serious. Never does much else but work. I swear I don’t remember the last time he did anything fun.” 

Hearing that answer surprised you. It also meant that the Vegas article was definitely a stretch. You couldn’t help but wonder what the truth was, but you decided not to ask. 

“How do you deal with him?” 

Sheila was quiet for a moment, as if she was really thinking about her answer. “Eventually he’ll grow on you. Kinda like a fungus? Sorry, that was probably a horrible analogy.” 

“No, that sounds like it’ll be accurate,” You said and then silently prayed that these months would fly by.

“If you’re ever confused or need anything, or just want to rant about him, don’t hesitate to call or text me. I’ll be stuck in the same place until this baby’s out of me.” 

Sheila was really nice, and you could tell that she genuinely meant her words, but you didn’t want to have to bother her again; she deserved a break from all of this.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

You’d woken up at five thirty in the morning on the first day of filming with a text from Steve. 

It was his coffee and breakfast order and the name of the place that he wanted you to get it from.

Seeing that text from him almost made you want to laugh given that the last message you’d sent him was you thanking him for Sheila’s number which went unanswered.

There were a bunch of things that were already being thrown at you when you got onto set that morning, but you decidedly avoided it all to first head to Steve’s trailer. 

You were determined to make the day go well; hoping that it would set a precedent for what the next few months would be like. And giving him his stupid coffee and breakfast order sounded like the best first thing to do to make sure that everything went well with you two. 

When he opened the door after you gave it three quick knocks, you greeted him with a smile. 

“Hey, good morning,” You said as you handed him the coffee and the bag with his breakfast sandwich. You then pulled out the folded piece of paper that had been in your back pocket, giving that to him as well. “The shooting schedule for today.”

“Mhm,” Steve said, placing the paper and bag down somewhere next to him. He took a sip of his coffee before pulling out his phone and focusing his attention on that. He glanced up at you for a brief moment and his eyebrows slightly furrowed as if he was surprised you were still standing there. “I’ll call or text you if I need anything.”

Before you could say anything in response to that, he shut the door. 

This was your life now. 

In hindsight, maybe it was dumb of you to think that you’d have some sort of an actual introduction with him— especially with how the last, which had also been the first, time you talked to him went— but still, a small part of you had been hoping that you’d be proven wrong. 

You were kind of over hoping for that now, though. Because at this point, it was pretty clear to you what he was like, and it would definitely be dumb of you to continue to hope for something different. 

You’d dealt with an insane amount of rude people in Hollywood— actors, actresses, directors, pretty much anyone that at some point had some sort of seniority over you— and some of them had actually been worse than Steve. But there was something about this interaction that took the cake for you. 

Maybe it was because those past moments had been one-offs. Yes, some random actor or Hollywood exec had been a dick to you, but it would be a rarity if you had to talk to them again. However, with Steve Harrington, you’d have to deal with him for the next three months. 

You started walking away from his trailer and somehow almost immediately ran into Jessie. 

She started to smile at you until she noticed the look on your face. “Oh no, you look mad. What’s happened already?”

You plastered on a fake smile. “Oh, everything’s going fine. I gave him his coffee and stupid breakfast sandwich, he said he’ll call or text if he needs anything, and then he closed the door in my face before I could say anything.” You dropped the smile and gave her a deadpan look. “I honestly don’t even think he knows my name.”

She grimaced before giving you a hopeful smile. “I’m so grateful for you. These months will speed by, I promise.”

“Ninety days and counting,” You said, trying to match her hopeful smile but it still felt too fake. 

She opened her mouth to say something else, but your name being called on the small walkie talkie hanging from your back pocket interrupted her. 

“I’ll see you later, okay?” Jessie told you as she started heading in a different direction, and you nodded before grabbing your walkie talkie.

“Yeah, I’m here,” You responded, making your voice sound as light as possible. “What’s up?”

Darryl, who was the head of the art department, proceeded to tell you that an important part of the set had yet to be delivered and they couldn’t finish preparing the set that would be used in today’s scenes without it. 

You let out a sigh as you took a quick glance at your watch; 7:30am. “I talked to the delivery company yesterday and they said they’d have it here by 7. I’ll call them again right now, and I’m headed to you now too.”

Even with the immediate stress you felt from this situation that you now needed to fix, it somehow still felt easier than having to deal with Steve. For the time being, you could focus fully on your actual job and keep your mind far away from him. Until he ultimately needed you for something, and the thought of that made you inwardly roll your eyes. 

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

When your phone pinged with a notification you expected it to be something from Steve. Even though you’d given him the lunch he requested barely an hour ago, you wouldn’t have been surprised if he wanted something else. Instead, it was a notification that his calendar had been updated. 

His publicist, whose name you learned as Tom, put an interview on the schedule for today; an interview that Steve would need to get to in three hours. Sheila was very right when she said that he’d just randomly add things to the calendar. 

Filming for the day wasn’t over yet and was still supposed to go on for a while, but you were already thinking of ways to somehow make this work. And as you headed to Steve’s trailer that was the only thing on your mind.

Your knuckles rapped on the door a few times and you could hear his voice through the door yell out a loud,“Yeah?”

You took that as your cue to enter instead of waiting for him to open the door, which you assumed would never happen. 

He was sitting on the small couch that took up the farthest part of the trailer with headphones in his ears and a script in his hand that had his full attention. He pulled one headphone out and looked at you. 

“Tom set up this interview thing with BuzzFeed for today. It’s in about three hours. I can tell Jessie that we have to end filming a bit earlier today, which should be fine if we–”

“No,” He interrupted you with a shake of his head, and you fought the urge to roll your eyes because of how often that was happening. “Tell Tom I’m not gonna do that.” 

You looked at him, confused. “What? Is that allowed?” 

Steve shrugged. “He’ll deal with it.”

You almost asked him why he was refusing the interview, but you had a feeling that he wouldn’t give you an answer and he’d probably just get annoyed at you.

“Alright then,” You said instead as you started opening the door. “I’ll call him now.” 

Steve simply nodded at you before putting his headphone back in and turning his attention to the script again.

The phone only rang a few times before you were met with a British voice saying, “Hello?”

“Hi, yes, I’m Steve’s assistant for the time being,” You said, quickly introducing yourself because you wanted to get to the point of the call as fast as possible. “He said he’s not gonna do the interview that you set up for today. Um, sorry.” 

You weren’t entirely sure why you were saying sorry, but it felt awkward having to do this, especially since Steve gave you no reasoning as to why he said no. 

“Of course he did,” Tom said with a scoff. “I swear to God this kid is gonna drive me to start smoking again, and my husband would kill me if I did. Fucking hell.” You were unsure if he was talking more to you or himself. “Are you with Steve right now?”

It was easy to tell that that question was directed at you.

“No, not anymore, but I can relay any message you’d like me to give to him, if you want?” 

“Yes, tell him that this is the last time he’s gonna pull this shit. No more fucking back out of things that are meant to help his career. We are not having another fucking Golden Globes incident,” He said, and with the amount of irritation behind his words, it almost felt as if it was you that was being scolded by this British man. 

“Got it, I’ll tell him that,” You responded, although you knew when you gave the message you’d probably make it sound a bit less profane and angry. 

Hearing him mention the Golden Globes made you think of something. You knew that Steve had ditched the awards show, but the actual reasoning why was still a mystery to you. And you had to admit, you were a bit curious; just like the rest of the film world. “Can I ask what the whole Golden Globes thing was about?” 

Tom let out the longest sigh in the world before saying, “He didn’t want to go. He wanted to stay home.”

You laughed at that because you assumed that he was joking, but when you were met with nothing but silence you stopped. “Oh, you’re serious.”

“Sadly so serious,” He told you and then sighed again. “And just like you barely believed that, of course no news outlets would think that was the reason either, so they pulled any story out of their asses. Like, he’d actually go to Vegas? Jesus Christ.” He muttered something else under his breath that was too hard for you to make out. “And it was hard to play the sick angle because no one would believe that unless he was actually hospitalized, and doing that felt a bit too dramatic.” 

All of that information was a lot to take in, but you still nodded even though Tom couldn’t see you. 

“Wow, that’s, um, really… Wow.” You ultimately settled on saying, which was barely even a real sentence and you mentally kicked yourself for being at such a loss for words right then. 

“Yeah, that was definitely the best twenty-four hours of my life,” He said and you could easily hear the sarcasm dripping from every one of his words. “Actually, disregard giving that other message to him, I’ll just yell at him later. When is filming done for the day?” 

You looked at your watch and then let out your own sigh. “In four hours.”

“Okay, got it,” Tom responded, and you assumed the conversation was going to end there, but then he continued. “How’s he been to you so far?” 

Surprisingly, the question actually felt genuine and it made you feel as if you didn’t need to lie and make things sound better than how they actually had been. “He looks at me as if he hates me, so it’s been fun having to endure that for the past seven hours.”

“Don’t worry, that’s just his face. He probably doesn’t actually hate you.”

There was something about Tom’s response that made you laugh. “Okay, so when should I know for sure? If he throws his coffee in my face or if he murders me? Well, I guess if he murdered me I’d be finding out a little too late, but at least I’d be able to haunt him.”

“You’re funny,” He said with a chuckle. “I wish we could keep you around longer.”

“Do not put that out into the universe.”

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

next part!

[oldiesstationlover11607]

Promise - Josh Dun x Fem!Reader

Pairing: Josh Dun x Reader

Warnings: Kiss, swearing, angry Tyler

A/N: Can't be bothered to do a word count bc i'm tired. its about tyler saying he'd wait for reader when she comes back to columbus but when she comes back for the high school reunion she finds out he's married to jenna. so she starts to hit it off with josh.

Worthington Christian High School reunion. 2015. 7 years after Tyler and I had graduated. 7 years after I moved from Columbus to LA in search of making it as a film director. Everyone at home had thought I was insane, throwing my life away for a career I was almost guaranteed to fail at. Except Tyler. The other crazy dreamer in our grade, except his passion was music. We spent two summers together, him helping me make films and me helping organize gigs for him. When I left Columbus we promised we’d wait for each other. I loved him and was willing to do anything to make him mine. 

“I’ll wait for you,” a couple tears dropped down his face as he tried to remain strong. I pulled him in close for a warm embrace, feeling his chest rise and fall with his breath. I knew I would be back, I was going to make it and then I was going to come back for Tyler. But it had been 7 years and all we’d seen of each other was a few video calls. Tyler had achieved massive success with his band and it was impossible to avoid their songs on the radio. I’d ended up becoming a director, making a few movies and music videos, winning me my first Oscar. I didn’t know why but I was nervous to see Tyler, worried that he’d changed. It was a cold night so I’d made sure to put on a sweater. I was at least half an hour late–being stuck in a meeting with producers was almost always the reason I was late to everything–the entrance to the school was dead, except one man sitting on a bench, staring up at the night sky. 

“The reunion’s tonight, right?” I asked him, trying to figure out if I’d marked it wrong on my calendar. He didn’t look familiar to me, there was almost no way he’d gone to Worthington Christian, I knew everyone in our grade. 

“Yep,” he nodded. 

“Then why aren’t you in there?” I folded my arms and my breath came out in steam, the air much colder than I thought it was. 

“I didn’t go here, my friend and his wife are in there. I drove them here from my house and just stopped to get some air. What about you? How come you’re so late?” He smirked. 

“Uh… I had a meeting. Some producer thing for a new TV show in production. I’m a director,” I spoke, still trying to figure out how the man looked so familiar. He had curly brown hair and arms covered in tattoos, and that golden retriever look about him. 

“That’s cool, I’m a musician, the name’s Joshua,” he seemed genuinely interested in what I had to say, “have you made anything I might’ve seen?” I paused to think about what he might’ve seen. He was a musician so surely he’d watch music videos. 

“Well Joshua, I directed the music video for Green Day’s ‘Corvette Summer’ if you’re a fan of them,” I offered. His face lit up, clearly he had seen it. 

“Hell yes I’m a fan, the video was epic. Gosh, I love music videos, they’re awesome,” he grinned. Music blasted from inside the school, they were playing Tyler’s song, ‘Stressed Out’ which was my cue to go inside. 

“Sorry, I should probably get inside, it was nice meeting you Joshua.”

“Wait! What was your name?” He grabbed my hand. 

“Y/N,” I smiled. Joshua pulled out a business card from his wallet and passed it to me. 

“Get in touch with me, I live in LA too. We should get coffee sometime Y/N.” I nodded before slipping away through the doors. The song continued to blast through the speakers as I walked inside the gym. 

“Y/N! Hi!” a jock shouted, towering over me.

“How’s Hollywood?” a popular blondie who I was sure had peaked in high school preened, her phone flashing into my face. 

“Looks like we’ve got two stars in our grade,” Jack, the class president shouted over the mic. He was standing on stage, a can of beer in his hand like no time had passed at all. “Why don’t you two come up here? Talk to us about what it’s like to be better than all of us,” he let out a loud and obnoxious laugh which was then echoed back by everyone else in the room. I felt a hand on my back push me towards the stage, turning my head back to see him, Tyler Joseph. He looked so much older than the last time I’d seen him. His head was shaved in a buzzcut and head was wearing a yellow denim jacket. He looked famous. More so than me. He flashed a smile at me before taking the mic from Jack. 

“Hey everyone,” he waved, “god it is good to be back here with all of you, if you guys even remember us. If you don’t, then I was the basketballer who wrote poems at the back of Mr Stevenson’s math class while the rest of the team was failing his infamous algebra test,” he let out a loud laugh. “Now I wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for Worthington Christian, the people at this school shaped who I am as a person. I found the confidence to share my music with people here. I stayed in Columbus and I met my loving wife.” I’m sorry, wife? Tyler Joseph was married? My Tyler? The Tyler who’d promised he’d wait for me? I felt dizzy. But that didn’t stop Tyler from shoving the microphone into my hand. The room went silent as I stood there feeling like I was spinning. This wasn’t happening. 

“I–I’m happy to be here,” I tried desperately to smile but I could feel the tears welling up in my eyes. “Thank you for having us back.” I handed the mic back to Tyler before leaving the stage and running out the gym. I felt warm, my cheeks flushing bright pink and the lack of water I’d drank finally catching up with me. I stared at the ground as I desperately tried to hold back sobs. 

“Y/N?” It was Tyler. 

“What the fuck do you want Joseph?” I spat, he knew exactly what he’d done. “I don’t want you here.” 

“I–I know you don’t. I effed up, I get it. But you never came back, you promised me you’d come back and you didn’t Y/N,” he sighed. 

“I fucking waited for you,” the tears started to pour down my cheeks. 

“I’m sorry,” he pulled me in for a hug, “I still care about you, okay? You’re still important to me.” I nodded my head, waiting for him to let me go. I needed to get back to my hotel before I screamed at him. Finally he pulled back, a sorry look clinging to his face. I pushed past him, walking into the parking lot, I was done. Joshua was still sitting out there looking up at the stars. He turned around as soon as I pushed open the doors, his eyes widening when he saw me. 

“Y/N? Are you okay?” 

“Joshua, now's not the time,” I snapped but all it did was make him look more worried. He stood up and started following me through the parking lot–my hotel was a 15 minute walk away. 

“What happened?”

“Just this guy I really liked, Tyler. When I moved to LA we promised we’d wait for each other but apparently he’d married,” I threw my arms up in frustration. Joshua looked confused.

“What?”

“I wasn’t aware you were that Y/N, if I knew I probably would’ve prepared you for what you were about to see,” he said. 

“That Y/N?” Joshua stopped walking and let out a sigh. 

“Y/N do you know anything about Tyler’s band other than radio hits and that he’s in it?” he asked. I shook my head, Joshua chuckled lowly. I probably should’ve known more about my best friend’s famous band but I had been busy. Making movies was tough work.

“Okay well… My name is Joshua but everyone calls me Josh–Josh Dun.” I still shook my head, having no idea what he was talking about. Should I have known who he was? 

“Okay Josh, what does that have to do with Tyler?” He looked baffled that I didn’t know what he was talking about. 

“Tyler’s band… twenty one pilots. I’m the drummer, the other member in the band.” My jaw dropped. Holy shit. Fuck. I just vented about my stupid crush on Tyler to his bandmate. 

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry. I’ll leave you alone now Josh,” I ran a hand through my hair and started walking away. 

“Y/N, wait!” Josh grabbed my hand, “I don’t want you to leave me alone. You seem cool, I want to get to know you. Tyler’s told me a lot about you and if it makes you feel any better he felt really bad when he started dating Jenna.” If Tyler felt bad then why did he do it? Clearly they were made for each other if he felt like he could break our promise. I was 25 and hadn’t dated anyone since I’d left for LA because of that promise. I’d wasted 7 years. 

“Thanks Josh. You seem cool too,” I smiled. Maybe Josh would be it, I’d only known him for an hour but he was friendly, interested in film and music, and incredibly attractive.

“You know, I haven’t had dinner yet, do you want to go get some food? Tyler said there was a diner nearby,” Josh suggested. I agreed and walked back to his car. 

Josh had a burger and I snacked on some fries. Things were going well, we’d talked about the band and what it was like touring and we talked about the film industry. We’d even realized that we were on the same flight back home. 

“When we get back to LA, I want to show you my place,” Josh held the door open for me as we left the diner. 

“I’d like that,” I replied, trying to hold back a smile. I climbed into his car as he drove back to the school to pick up Tyler and Jenna. “I should probably walk back to my hotel before Tyler comes out, I don’t want it to be awkward,” I sighed.

“It won’t be awkward, you’re with me. But I do want to give you something before you go back,” he replied. We drove into the school parking lot and waited while everyone walked out. 

“And what’s that?”

“A kiss,” he smirked, leaning in towards me. 

“Oh really?” I smiled, his hand coming to cup my face. I felt his lips brush mine and I closed my eyes, butterflies filling my stomach and cheeks flushing pink. 

“You’re really something else Y/N,” Josh whispered. Knock knock knock. I jumped, turning around to see Tyler standing there with his arms crossed and his wife hiding a smile. 

“You two have known each other for less than a day!” Tyler shouts, a hand rubbing his eyes. 

“And that’s my que to go. I’ll call you,” I laugh, getting out of the car. Josh says his goodbye and Jenna gets in the car. Tyler grabs my arm and drags me aside. He looked angry. 

“First you’re mad at me for marrying someone and now you’re kissing my best friend?” 

“Tyler, that's not fair. Josh and I, we’re just talking, it’s okay, he’s cool.”

“It better be okay because if he hurts you I’ll kill him,” he pulled me in for a hug. He still cared. He still cared.

//

Please submit any requests y'all have! I love to write so let me know if you've got any!

[lost-walmartbag]

Stan x reader S2 pt 1

Song: I'd have to think about it - Leith Ross

Warning: Swearing

Background: After Stan leaves, you move on with your life.

Status: Ongoing

Previous part

Next part

'Sarah'

After Stan left, you found yourself struggling. Bereft of support, you felt alone, except for Kyle, who was going through a similar ordeal. Kyle became your lifeline, aiding you in mending your shattered state of mind. However, true healing remained elusive. The initial week was horrible, but with Kyle faithfully by your side, the burden grew lighter.

That respite was short-lived, though. A month later, Stan stumbled upon a golden opportunity, his song was featured in a popular television show. Suddenly, his face seemed to haunt every corner, and it was utterly agonizing. Yet, Kyle did his utmost to divert your attention and alleviate your pain. However, as another month passed, you got sick and were confined to the bathroom each morning. When you confided in Kyle, he promptly arrived at your house, bearing medicine, sprite, and three pregnancy tests.

"Why? There's no way I'm…" you began, looking up at him while pulling out the tests.

"I mean, it wouldn't hurt to check, right?" he nervously replied, punctuating his statement with a hesitant laugh.

And so, there you stood, side by side with Kyle, staring down at three positive pregnancy tests. You were at a loss, uncertain about what to do. A desperate urge to call Stan and have him by your side overwhelmed you, but that wish would forever remain unfulfilled. Kyle became your unwavering support throughout this tumultuous journey.

Night after night, you wrestled with the desire to reach out to Stan, yet you couldn't muster the strength. Then, one day, while Kyle was at your house, he received a message from Kenny. As Kyle watched the video he had been sent, his face contorted with disbelief.

"Hey, what is it?" you asked, turning to him, curiosity tinged with humor.

"N-nothing," he stammered, attempting to hide his emotions.

"Come on, don't be weird. What is it?" you persisted, laughing and playfully punching his shoulder, seizing the phone from his trembling hand.

Though he tried to reclaim the device, you managed to play the video before he could intervene. It featured an interview with Stan, his bleached hair grown out, a lip piercing adorning his face, and a few tattoos etched onto his skin.

"So, you're still quite young, but can you see yourself settling down in the future?" the interviewer inquired, eliciting laughter from Stan.

"God, no. I don't think I'll ever reach a point where I'd want kids," he replied, chuckling, an answer that shattered your heart.

Tears streamed down your face, and Kyle did his best to console you. Taking his phone back from your hands, he held you close. From that moment onward, you tried to bury your feelings for Stan. As his career soared, propelling him to greater fame and journeys across the globe, you remained in South Park, completing your final year of high school.

Fortunately, you managed to graduate before any visible signs of pregnancy emerged. Upon entering college, you and Kyle ended up attending the same university. Sharing an apartment, you faced the daunting task of balancing school and parenthood. Kyle dedicated himself to supporting you, ensuring you could fulfill your educational aspirations while raising your child. It wasn't easy, and guilt gnawed at you for relying on him so heavily. Nevertheless, he staunchly refused to let you bear the burden alone.

"Kyle, you don't have to wake up with her. You have a class tomorrow," you groaned, reclaiming Sarah from his arms.

"I know, but you barely came back from your class. You know I'm better at soothing her," he responded gently, his fingers tenderly caressing Sarah's slumbering head.

"Am I making the right choices?" you questioned, placing Sarah back into her crib. "Should I have called Stan? I mean, the guy's rich now."

"Look, I won't tell you what to do. I can't tell you anything to make you feel better or worse, but I can tell you one thing… you're doing great," he assured you, his hand resting reassuringly on your shoulder, a heartfelt smile gracing his lips.

"I feel like I'm failing her," you whispered, your gaze fixed upon Sarah.

"My mom once told me that sometimes you never feel like you're doing enough, but I genuinely believe you're doing great," he said, planting a tender kiss atop your head.

In the span of a few years, you achieved your degree in liberal arts. Sarah blossomed into a four-year-old now a spinning image of Stan, and Kyle remained steadfast by your side throughout it all. He witnessed every milestone, not only in Sarah's life but also in yours. Now, adorned in your cap and gown, clutching Sarah tightly, you stood radiant beneath the sun's warm glow. Her vivid blue eyes sparkled, and her black hair was adorned with bows that Kyle had lovingly placed.

"Come on, let me take a picture!" Kyle exclaimed, seizing your phone and stepping back.

"Fine, but only one," you agreed, a smile gracing your face.

Kyle snapped the photo, capturing the triumphant moment of your greatest achievements shared with Kyle and Sarah. Later that day, as you sat down and gazed at the picture Kyle had taken, a sense of profound happiness overwhelmed you. Without a second thought, you shared the snapshot on your Instagram, before peacefully retiring for the night.

Stan however was in the studio listening to his new song. He spun in his chair completely uninterested. He pulled out his phone and scrolled through Instagram much to his manager's dismay.

"Come on Marsh you gotta focus." He said with a groan.

"It sounds fine what else do you want me to d...." Stan started before stumbling upon your post. You looked amazing like you did the day he had left but his eyes stayed on the little girl in your arms.

A/N: Hope you guys liked it. Yes, I did change the whole plot of season two so I'm so sorry if you preferred the other version over this. I just feel this is better for me creatively and I hope you stay to read. As always I love you all thanks for reading. 🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷

[willtheweaver]

OC takeover tag

Shoutout to @mk-writes-stuff and @bard-coded for the open tag. Looks like fun.

What would happen if your ocs took over your phone/blog for the day?

Using several characters from A Feather in the Forest for this. What could possibly go wrong?

Fen- He would love watching nature documentaries…at least until something incorrect comes up, causing him to rant and vent. Would also get a 3 day ban for arguing with ara types. Being a good storyteller, he would post original works and fanfics. Overall, things would go well. Until the ‘low battery’ warning comes on, causing Fen to panic…and drop my phone in water.

Playa- After figuring out how to do videos, she would do live streams about hunting, forest ecology, and other outdoor activities. Searching the internet, Playa would be confused about all the fox images(no apparel? Why are they down on all fours all the time?),end up finding webpages full of furry art…and be traumatized by all the spicy and explicit content.

Opal- As someone who loves music, Opal would spend most of her time on YouTube. Would use the blog to post wellness videos, divination, and ‘behind the scenes’ looks at Fernstan village. Having no time for scammers, she would give them a scalding before blocking and reporting them. Would also be the only one to figure out what a charging cord is and how it works.

Lord Halley- Would spend time looking at nest cam videos, and searching for anything remotely related to eagles (except for golden eagles, he hates them). Might end up a Philadelphia football fan, and would definitely get banned for looking up and trying to share way too much spicy bird art.

Tagging @the-ellia-west @smudged-red-ink @athenswrites @winterandwords @bunnymermaidwrites @indecentpause @theeccentricraven @gottestod-writes @blind-the-winds @somethingclevermahogony and open tag for all who want to join in. Take your time, and jump in when you want to.

[lunarsun12]

The Dog Always Return To It’s Owners

It has been 2 days since Jake has entered the skz dorms. He found himself really liking the family except for some people as he finds them cringe and incredibly annoying.

He grew extremely comfortable with Chan and Lix, as they made special efforts to make him feel welcome.

Plus he is low-key scared of Lee Know as one time he came out of the bathroom, he saw Lee Know standing outside with a knife (he thought someone broke in) that how those two met.

Jay managed to find Jake and try to persuade Jake to come home. Jake strongly refuses until his Appa shows he cares about him!

Enhyphen last resort is Niki to convince Jake to come home.

Will Niki be successful?

DISCLAIMER

This does not represent the idols real persona and is exaggerated for entertainment purpose. They are non idols in this storyline

Back at the SKZ chat

21:00

Hyunjin💁: How did you get into our chat? It was seungmin who made it. Defo has no been leaked

Jay👺: I own this app, please get Jake to talk me. It is urgent

Felix☀️(Jake): I’m not coming home until appa shows he cares about me

Felix☀️(Jake): And yes I am using Lixie phone to text cause they didn’t add me this chat…yet

Jay👺: It has been 3 days now and your appa is actually crying

Han🐿️: Oooo family tea!

Lee Know🙎: Han, stay out of it this is serious before I beat you up

Han🐿️: But but it looks so much fun! Sounds very interesting

Lee Know🙎: This is my last warning, since I am talking nicely butt out or I make you blackout

Felix☀️(Jake): I can see why Uncle Lee Know can be scary

Jay👺: LEE KNOW IS NOT YOUR UNCLE I AM PLUS JUNGWON

Felix☀️(Jake): Bye bye ex uncle Jay, I’m gonna hang out with my bro Lix and my new appa Bangchan-

Bangchan🐺: Since when did Lee Know adopted him?

Lee Know🙎: I didn’t, you know we always talk things out when it comes to adopting demons…I mean kids

Back at the Elite Club chat

Jay👺: So this how it went down with Jake

Jungwon🐈‍⬛: I don’t blame him, it’s like you broke a dog trust. You can never regain it back

Heeseung🦌: You guys have to help me even the kids!

Heeseung🦌: If you help me get Jake back. I swear I won’t plot anymore revenge on Jay anymore and actually will accept Jay is the new business owner

Jungwon🐈‍⬛: I told you many times, to not ignore Jake like that. The lying of dog is low Hyung

Jay👺: It not my fault, I just I wanted to open a business

Heeseung🦌: I will buy Jake a golden retriever right now! Anything to get my Jakey back, my life is empty without him

Heeseung🦌: The only thing haven’t been stolen from me…well now it has

Jungwon🐈‍⬛: I ask Niki to talk to Jake and tell Jake that he is getting a dog frrrr

Jungwon🐈‍⬛: Remember to take a video of you buying the dog…you know in case you lie again

Jay👺: Don’t rely on my two sons, all they care is about themselves. The chances are very low that they will actually do something

Heeseung🦌: I cannot believe our only hope is actually Niki the little devil in disguise

Jungwon🐈‍⬛: We are still working on the whole playing thing. Niki doesn’t get it sometimes

The next day

14:00

Back at Jake and Niki chat

Niki🕺: Hyungggg

Jake🐶: Oh hey little Niki!

Niki🕺: Please come home! I am getting bullied by sunoo again

Jake🐶: Sunoo has vacationing in Hawaii with his brother. I saw his vlog

Niki🕺: Why are so quick you darn Sunoo…

Niki🕺: Anways just come home, your appa is actually in mourning like he lost a child

Jake🐶: That probably an act, he probably pretend to be sad so I can help plot some revenge against Uncle Jay

Jake🐶: Also I want to go home as well. I only stayed there to see if Appa really cares about me

Jake🐶: The household is crazy apart from Lix and IN. This hyunjin person kept on putting a terrible Aussie accents (the grammar bro)

Jake🐶: Don’t get me started on Han, he makes chicken noises at 5am this morning as he was pretending to be rooster

Jake🐶: I rather spend a day with Sunoo and Sunghoon than live here

Niki🕺: Wow these two make Sunoo and Sunghoon look like a saint now 

Niki🕺: As well you appa got you a dog like real one

Jake🐶: I’m not falling for that again

Niki🕺: Look at his message you see!

Jake🐶: OH MY GOD ITS REAL. IM COMING HOME RIGHT NOW. MR DOGGIE I AM COMING FOR YOU

Back at the enhyphen main chat

22:00

Jungwon🐈‍⬛: I’m so glad that this issue has been resolved! I never seen Heeseung hyung so happy

Jay👺: Finally I can sleep in peace in case Heeseung hyung tries to do something to me again

Jungwon🐈‍⬛: Your kids are more likely to kill you then Heeseung hyung

Heeseung🦌: Having Jake back is amazing, he even named the dog Layla and the dog is actually cute

Heeseung🦌: That whole revenge thing is not worth it after losing Jake. It made me realise that Jake is my everything

[mcheang]

Marinette and the chocolate factory

Willy Wonka is finally opening his factory, allowing only 5 children from Paris to enter.

By using a large chunk of her savings to buy several crates, Alya gets to go to the factory and record it for her blog…until she reads the terms and conditions that forbid her taking photos or videos.

Adrien was the next lucky winner…until his father refused to allow him to enter the domain of a recluse candy maker where Adrien will no doubt try to wreck his model diet. So he gives the ticket to Lila instead, who is thrilled about her interview.

Chloe gets her ticket after her father buys a large chunk of chocolate bars and orders all his staff to unwrap them.

Surprisingly, Felix is the next winner. He had calculated which chocolate bar the next ticket could be found in and proceeded to buy it.

Marinette got the ticket on the last day, much to her conflicted emotions since she doesn’t want to spend the day with any of these kids! While Alya is not openly antagonistic, there is a rift between these former friends after Marinette warned Alya to actually fact check and to stop trying to reveal pieces of Ladybug’s personal life’s.

Still, it is a once in a lifetime opportunity…and Tikki wants to go anyway.

At the factory, the children enter the doors alone, with no adult but Willy to supervise them.

Knowing Willy’s distaste for spies and thieves, Lila paints Marinette as a potential thief, unaware that Willy Wonka did his research to test each potential heir. He knows Lila is a liar and that Chloe was the one to steal Marinette’s hat design.

As Willy tells the kids to go ahead and eat their first location, Alya falls into the chocolate river trying to get a souvenir for Nino, ignoring Willy’s warning not to touch his river with her ungloved hands.

Willy was internally relieved as he had qualms about letting this so-called reporter into his private factory.

At the inventing room, Lila chews the gum meal before Willy can finish his sentence, interrupting his speech. She stops at pumpkin pie and begins to swell up, her skin turning orange.

Willy: well, at least I will get to finish my speeches

At a honeycomb room, Chloe asks to buy his specially trained honeybees but he refuses.

Offended, Chloe throws a tantrum and stays behind when they move on, attempting to steal a few bees behind Willy’s back. Except the bees end up swarming her. Blinded by the golden insects, Chloe accidentally stumbles into the garbage chute.

Willy: how in the world did she end up a recurring hero?

At the television room, Felix tries to learn the secrets of this teleportation device and messes with the switches and dials, accidentally sending himself inside the TV.

Willy: and this is what happens when little boys play with things they don’t understand!

When Marinette was the only one left, Willy Wonka congratulated her and declared his intention to name her his heir.

Marinette protests, stating she is too busy with her own design commissions and helping out at her family bakery.

Willy Wonka: even if my factory gives you the privacy you need to conduct your transformation potions?

Marinette: what?!

Willy: oh, if I could discover Oompa-Loompas, I can discover an ancient order protecting magical jewellery. They need more candy in their lives. Those poor trainees looked so unhappy.

Marinette: but how did you find out about my secret identity.

Willy: I did my research on each of the lucky finders of my golden tickets.

Marinette: I’m not sure…

Willy: well if you’re not sure, how about Tikki? I’m sure the kwami of creation will have good ideas for my business, especially if she has a sweet tooth as I hear.

Tikki: yes!

So while Marinette was named Willy’s heir in name, the other ticket holders emerged covered in chocolate, orange, covered in garbage and stretched painfully thin respectively.

Alya was disappointed she missed the rest of the tour. And her phone had been ruined!

Lila was going to get fired from Gavriel! There was no way to return to her original skin tone.

Chloe was already calling her father to sue Willy Wonka except Willy already sent footage of her behavior to the mayor and warned the mayor that he won’t go down without a fight. And Chloe is not very popular with the Parisians.

Felix was wishing for an akuma to turn his body back to normal!

[iguana-eyanna]

Inside of Your Light

Pairing: Jeff Wittek x Plus Size Model! Reader

Summary: The vlog squad threw you a special surprise for your birthday, including a big present that may change your life.

a/n: songfic What Have I Done by Dermont Kennedy

You woke up around 7 o'clock in the morning when your phone rang. You groggily grab it and see that your boyfriend, Jeff, started to facetime you. "Hello?" you whispered as your eyes tried to pry open.

"Happy Birthday, baby girl." Jeff said brightly, making you blush.

"Aww, thank you, Jeff. But why did you call me so early in the morning?" You joked as you started to sit up on your mattress. "Sorry, I'm at the gym at the hotel and I thought you'd be awake right now." Jeff replied sheepishly. Jeff got offered a brand deal in New York so he wasn't able to celebrate your special day in LA.

"It's ok, I was meaning to get dolled up a bit before Carley and Erin pick me up to get our nails done." You started to yawn as it made Jeff's heart melt a bit. "You're so cute when you wake up." he said, admiring how the sun hits the back of your head.

You smirk back at the screen as you playfully roll your eyes. “And to everyone else in the world, I’m Frankenstein coming back from the dead.” Jeff laughed harder as he smiled at you. “I gotta go and wrap my reps. Just wanted to wish my best girl an amazing day.” You blow him an air kiss as he winked back. “Love you, babes.” You said as you got out of bed. “Love you more,” Jeff said before he hung up the call.

You take a deep breath and thought how lucky you were to be with a guy like Jeff. You and Jeff joined the vlog squad around the same time a few years back. You were a plus-size model for a few companies like Fashion Nova and Pretty Little Thing. Once you started off your YouTube channel, Carley saw your videos and dmed you on Instagram to hang out sometime. You met up at a lunch with the group and she introduced you to everyone, but somehow caught Jeff’s eye.

The whole time, you and Jeff started to hit it off. Then with a lot of flirting and calling each other late at night, you both decided to make it official. Jeff thought you would turn him away due to his past, but you truly accepted him for his journey, even if it wasn’t pretty. Now you were going strong for about three years, and you wouldn’t have it any other way.

After you’ve gotten ready, Erin texted you that they were outside. You head out and enter their car as they began filming. “Hey, guys! We just picked up our queen, happy birthday!” You smile brightly as you buckle in the back. “Thank you guys!” you said. Carly turns back to you and gives you your favorite Starbucks drink and a cake pop. “Thought you could use a little sugary treat to start the day.” You make a small pout from the gesture, thanking her again.

On your way to the nail salon, you guys start talking about David’s latest antics as well as a fancy restaurant that just opened that you really wanted to try. The girls make a face at the camera but you didn’t make of it as you arrived at your appointment. Carly switches off the camera as you all started heading out of the car.

Once you were all done, you all started to fan over the amazing job of your nail artists (which you all generously tipped) and decided to go out for lunch. “Are we still clubbing tonight?” Carly asked as she sipped her Seltzer. You nod yes as you finished a bite of your appetizer. “Yep, I’m so excited to wear this cocktail dress Jeff gave me before he left. I just wished he was here to celebrate.” You said, fumbling with the end of a napkin in front of you.

The girls give you a sympathetic look, knowing how much you’ve been missing him the past couple of days. Even after they changed the subject, all you could think of was Jeff. But after a good meal and a little site seeing, you started to feel a bit better. The girls dropped you home so you could relax before clubbing the night away.

Right when it hit evening, you began getting ready as you curled your hair and did your makeup just right. You slipped on the dress Jeff gave you that adored every curve on your figure, silently thanking your boyfriend for his taste in fashion.

You suddenly hear a knock at the door, thinking it's one of the girls. You unlock the door and open it to reveal no other than your very well-dressed boyfriend. "Jeff! You're back!" You screamed as you gave him a crushing hug, later kissing him. "Hey, doll." Jeff whispered as you took his breath away, taking out a bouquet of your favorite flowers.

"What are you doing back home?" You asked, still dazed that's actually at your doorstep. "C'mon, did you really think I was going to miss my best girl's big day?" He questioned with a twinkle in his eye. You roll your eyes and hug him again, truly blessed to have such an amazing boyfriend.

"I'm here to pick you up to your destination, shall we?" He offers his hand that you gladly took it. He helps you in his car as you both drove off to the main road with his hand on your upper thigh. You notice that he doesn't take the road to the club. "Babe, I think you missed a turn." you told Jeff who was smirking even more at your cluelessness. "Don't worry dolI, I know where I'm going." he takes a hold of your hand and kisses your knuckle as you blush harder.

He then parks in a parking lot and goes out of the car to open your door. Before you could actually take in your surroundings, Jeff shielded your view. "Hey! Jeff seriously, where are we?" you lightly scolded him. "You gotta trust me now, okay?" you agreed as you grumbled under your breath. With a few more steps, you start to enter a doorway that was decorated with...

streamers?

Jeff takes his hands off and you see all of your friends surrounding you. "Happy Birthday!" they all screamed out loud. You smile from ear to ear as Jeff wrapped his arms around your waist. Utterly shocked, you did your best to express your happiness but you were beyond speechless.

You suddenly realized that the place you were in was the restaurant you've desperately wanted to try and you turn around to Jeff who was beaming at your joy. "All for you, baby girl." his husky voice told you as you hugged him, pecking his face with kisses. Then, all of your friends ushered you both in to dine and dance. You saw how the entire restaurant had accents of rose gold decorations, as well as your friends wearing the same color palette.

Although this surprise was really touching, something was bothering you. Usually, they would throw parties like these for David, so why would they celebrate something big for you?

Later on, you all ate the most mouth-watering food as well as dancing to your favorite songs. Once they take out the birthday cake, you lose sight of Jeff. You ask Carly where he is but she brushed it off, saying that he's probably getting you a drink. As you started to dish out the cake, David stood up and clinked a knife to a glass.

"Hey everyone! If I could get your attention please." David shouted as the whole party calmed down. "There is a special surprise waiting outside on the back patio for our birthday girl, so could our celebrant please wear a blindfold?" Everyone started to cheer except for you. "I swear David if it's a wild animal..." you warned him but it was too late. One of the guys used a long fabric to cover your eyes, guiding you outside.

They take off the blindfold to reveal your boyfriend standing in front of you. You don't understand what's going on until you see a flower arch in the back of him, with a message illuminating "Marry Me." You gasp lightly as you cover your mouth with your eyes starting to water.

Jeff takes your shaking hands into his, ready to start his speech. “I wasn't really in New York for a brand deal, I was picking up your birthday gift.”

He then lowers himself on one knee, taking out a small pastel pink box to reveal a beautiful gold band decorated with transcendent diamonds. Both of you start to cry, but Jeff is literally a mess as he tries to finish his words.

“Before I met you, I thought I’d be better off alone. Now, my soul has been torn and reborn, started breathing for the very first in my life. As I’m standing in front of you, I wanna get it right for once.

Oh, believe me when I say I've been knocked out and beat but this feeling is fleeting. Even this morning, I've been thinking 'bout the way you smile golden…I want to move inside of your light.

I never thought I needed saving, I was right where I should be Good God, I know it's dangerous, but it's you that I need I'm in love this time. So, do you wanna be mine forever?”

You uncover your mouth and shake your head.

"Yes, yes, a thousand times yes." you said. The waterworks literally overcame both of you as he slid the ring around your finger, getting up to kiss your lips. Your friends cheer as they close up to you, firing confetti cannons into the air. You look up to Jeff as you wiped away his happy tears away from his face.

No words were exchanged, but you could tell through his eyes that he was forever grateful for you to be a part of his life. You both kiss again, ending the night with great friends and memories that will forever last in the video Joe has been recording for Jeff's channel (which trended 14 million on YouTube for a whole month).

You were the light in his life and he will bask in it for eternity.

[astranva]

Golden (Behind the Scenes)

Word Count: 1.2k

Category: Fluff

Warning: absolutely nothing except if you hate fluff because this is so cute

Summary: Y/N and Harry’s relationship in the Golden’s BTS video.

** tumblr is really out here not showing any of my writings under any tag but here i am lmao

..

There were days when basking in the sun was all you wanted to do; away from all the paperwork, from the chattering noises of gossiping colleagues, from the screens that gave you headaches and had your back aching for days.

There were days when you could do exactly that, like the days you accompanied Harry as he filmed his Golden music video.

Being a muse behind the very song, Harry was extra gleeful when you confirmed that you were joining him after having had used your sick days for that purpose.

You knew that Italy had a special place in not only your heart, but Harry’s, too. It was where the both of you travelled to for the first time together. In fact, it was where you met.

It was a mutual friend’s wedding, both the bride and groom gathering the bridesmaids and groomsmen in a little getaway in Italy, and you and the, then, 23-year-old man seemed to click so much that by the end of the 2-week trip in the Amalfi Coast, you had shared not only phone digits, but soft kisses and unforgettable memories, too.

And for his music video, it was only fitting that he films it where it all started.

“Thank you for coming,” Harry mumbled between kisses to your cheek as you stood with your arms crossed beside the crew, watching as they discussed some shots. His arms were around your shoulders, head leaning against yours as his lips peppered kisses to your skin, “It would’ve sucked without you.”

“You credit me too much,” you smiled, looking up at him and reaching up to place your hand on his cheek, squinting slightly as the sun shone right above you, “You would’ve killed it with or without me.”

Harry feigned a frown, shaking his head to remove your hand childishly, “Lies, and you know it.”

“Stop shaking your head, you baby,” you frowned at him, turning in his arms before reaching up and twiddling a locket of his hair around your finger to curl it like it used to, “Your curls won’t be defined if you keep doing that.”

Oblivious to the camera recording, you stood twiddling Harry’s hair as he closed his eyes with a smile on his face.

But you had your camera with you, too.

Looking down at Harry as he took cautious steps on the rocky ground in his blue swimming trunks, you held your analog videorecorder to your eye, “H!”

Harry looked at you through squinted eyes, putting his hands over his eyes to block the sun, “I’m going to jump!” Harry excitedly said, pointing at the water behind him, “Watch me, love!”

You held your camera then when Harry had just changed, recording him as he was putting on his black mask, “Wait, let us see that face!” You teased, hearing people around you chuckle as Harry lowered the mask, bashfully smiling at the ground as he approached you.

Your camera was rolling as Harry stood, looking to the side.

“Looking gooood, Styles!” You filmed him, watching as he giggled and looked at you, “And these shoes. Yes for me.” You zoomed on the shoes before going up to his face.

“Stop, you’re making me blush.” Harry smiled bashfully, turning his back at you and walking away. You didn’t record him when he turned back around and ran to you, smacking his lips against lips before running back away.

You filmed him as he sat at the back of the golf cart, “You look like a princess.”

Hearing your comment, Harry dramatically crossed his leg over the other, placing his hand on his waist as the cart was driven further into your shot.

When he was seated in the vintage car, you stood back, holding your camera up, “Baby, look at me.”

Harry turned his head back to look at you, wiggling his eyebrows jokingly at the camera in your hands.

For another car shot, you were standing to the side. You didn’t need to call for him, because his eyes moved across people, searching for you before they landed on your figure and he beamed.

“Can’t you join me on the boat?” He had asked for the millionth time before he got on the boat.

“Told you, baby. I want to watch from here. We can have one for ourselves when you’re not working.”

It was your little assurance that had him grinning up at you from the boat as you filmed him, giggling like a child as it moved.

Your favorite bit had to be when he was lying on the lounge chair in an oversized burgundy shirt and matching wide pants, a hat on his head.

“We’re back in the medieval times with Mr. Harry Styles,” you said as you filmed him, “Here he is, with his tea.”

“Hey, look-watch this,” he giggled, picking up his saucer and teacup before taking a sip, sticking his pinky out as you zoomed in on his face, “Since you call me princess and all.”

“The prettiest princess.” You swooned before putting down your camera.

You probably filmed Harry jumping into the water too many times, but how couldn’t you when he looked like that?

During the last day of shooting, and right as everyone was wrapping up, you sat in the car waiting for Harry with sleepy eyes and a tired body after all that you had done that day, and every day of filming.

“Ciao ragazze!” You heard Harry shout, screams outside getting louder before the door was opened and Harry got inside, waving to someone outside, “Ciao.”

You smiled at the interaction, stomach full of butterflies at the sight of him and at the reminder of the cuddles you were going to get in a short time.

“Are you tired, baby?” Harry asked softly, turning to look at you and opening his arms so you could scoot and cuddle against him. Pressing a kiss to your forehead, Harry wrapped his arms tightly around you, “You tired, love?” He had whispered, grazing your forehead with his lips, “I love you.”

“I love you, too.” You said just as softly, cuddling closer against him, finally closing your eyes.

It was after Golden was premiered that everyone suggested your videos to be added to the Golden (Behind the Scenes) video, and while you held on to a few very personal footages, Harry was beaming with pride as he watched the bits you shot get added.

“My girlfriend shot that.” He’d point out as he watched the video throughout its editing process. “Did you hear that giggle? That’s my girlfriend’s.”

It was why footages of you were added; twiddling Harry’s hair, beaming at the cameraman as you sat on Harry’s shoulders while the both of you went for a dip, holding your analog camera as you stood in Harry’s cream oversized shirt with the burgundy hat on your head, the camera moving from Harry shaking his shoulders and dancing in his light blue blazer to you mirroring his moves before going back to Harry whose eyes fell on you and broke into a laugh, the short conversation you had in the car as you were sleepy, though you weren’t seen.

But the fans knew it was you, and they knew that there couldn’t be a better ending for the video;

“I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

[magpietoriches]

LockDown Part XVIII: The Woman, The Man, and the Serpent

Summary: You finally get to speak with the Power Broker, but things prove to be more difficult when you realise how ill-prepared you actually are. Luckily Loki is around to help you find your confidence. 

Setting: 2018 in an alternate timeline where Loki made it to Earth after the events of “Thor: Ragnarok” and Sam Wilson, Wanda Maximoff, Clint Barton, and Scott Lang are still on the Raft.

Pairing: Loki x Reader (First Person)

Content Warning: The following chapter contains mild smut. 

Playlist ~ Masterlist ~ Next Part 

************************************************

       The announcement of the Power Broker had reduced me to a catatonic state. Wanda’s laptop sat where we had left it. And from where we stood, it was in our direct line of sight. My eyes never left the screen as I absentmindedly tugged at Loki’s sleeve

     The entire evening I had been at the mercy of lock doors, codes and countdowns. And In the midst of all the chaos, I had forgotten about the Power Broker.

     “Uh, I see,” Loki huffed. “NOW, they want to speak with us.”

     “Loki,” I said in a trance.

     The count down went from 2 to 1.

     “This is absolutely unacceptable,” Loki ranted, his hands on his hips. Doing his best, “I want to speak to the manager” pose.

     My eyes broadened, as Logan’s warning replayed in my head, “Don’t let the Power Broker know you work with the Avengers.” As far as instructions go it was simple enough. But now there was no time to come up with an elaborate story, beyond just lying about my employment. The only thing preventing me from convincingly keeping up the ruse was…

     “LOKI, move,” I shouted. Adrenaline had awakened all my senses. Mere seconds before the Power Broker came onto the screen I had wrapped my arms around Loki’s waist, and had tackled him to the ground. The only way to convincingly lie was to hide the God of lies himself.

     There was a loud thud as we both hit the ground. Loki winced underneath me and leaned his head back against the surface of the floor.

     “I don’t see anyone,” a woman’s voice came from the laptop speakers above us.

     Loki instinctually wrapped his arms protectively around me and held me closer to his chest.

     I felt Loki’s soft lips on my forehead, and the rapid beating of his heart seemed to have slowed down. It was then that I realized he wasn’t comforting me, but himself. Logan’s warning was probably playing in Loki’s mind as well. Except for him, it was the part of the Power Broker being dangerous.

     “Stay down here,” I whispered into Loki’s ear. “I’m just going to speak to the Broker.” Strong arms kept me in place. “Loki, let me go,” I said, trying to wiggle out of his grasp.

     “I have to keep you safe,” Loki simply said.

     “It’s fine. The Broker is in another country.”

      If Loki had his way, he would have held me against his chest forever, but he didn’t have a good enough reason to keep me. Hesitantly, Loki released me. And I left my favourite person on the floor.

     “Well a video call was not on the schedule for today but I-“ The woman on the computer screen abruptly ended her sentence. Her jaw fell slightly open in lieu of my sudden appearance. She had shoulder-length blonde hair, a short face, and dark eyes.

     “Hi.” I introduced myself while brushing my hair away from my face.

     “I’ll need to call you back,” The woman said into the cell phone pressed against her ear.

     “Are you the Power Broker?” I questioned.

     “Yeah, yes,” The Power Broker stammered. She sat in a black leather chair in front of a large office desk. On her desk was an executive pen holder, and several stacks of files. Several works of art were behind her. Most of it half-heartedly leaning against the wall, on the floor. I could hear the faint sound of classical music. The dimly lit room gave her golden hair a heavenly glow. She looked down at her desk and immediately began shuffling around papers in an attempt to seem busy. She seemed ill-prepared and lacked the confidence one would expect from someone so notorious.

     “Sorry if I scared you. I was just…looking for something on the ground.”

     “Good luck trying to find it,” The Power Broker lifted her chin and smirked. I turned my head and looked at the frenzied mess on the floor that she was clearly gesturing towards.

     “Yeah, it’s Umm. It’s been a long night.” I made a conscious effort not to stare at Loki as he crawled around the kitchen island so that he could stand safely behind the laptop.

     When the Power Broker didn’t respond, Loki began waving his right hand in circles, urging me to keep going. “A friend put me in contact with you?” I looked over at Loki for reassurance and he gave a nod.

     “Yes. Logan’s friend,” The woman said while setting aside a stack of papers. She looked up at me and smiled. “So how can I be of service?”

     “I was-“ my eyes darted towards Loki.

     “Ask her where she's eaten,” Loki appeared to silently mouth.

     “What?” I asked, my eyebrows furrowed.

     The Power Broker tilted her head to the side, “I didn’t say anything?”

     Loki rolled his eyes.

      “I wanted to know why you’re late,” I said. Loki nodded along to each word I spoke. It was a definite distraction. I made sure to glare at him as covertly as I could.

     “Let's get one thing straight,” The Power Broker said, as she leaned back in her office chair with her arms crossed over her chest. “I’m not on your schedule. I call potential clients when I am ready.”

     And there it was. Any sign of nerves or trepidation on the part of the Power Broker was gone.

     “Right. Sorry for asking,” I said sheepishly.

     Any confidence I initially had, had been completely drained. I had interviewed some of the worst people humanity had to offer, with nothing but a desk to shield me. But the stakes seemed higher this time, and undoubtedly more personal.

     “Okay,” The Power Broker replied, tapping her desk impatiently, “I really don’t have all day. So shoot. Tell me what you want.”

     “There is this-“

     “When I meet the Wizard, Once I prove my worth, And then I'll meet the Wizard. What I've waited for since birth.”

     Wanda’s ringtone filled the room. I looked over at Wanda’s cell, which lay cracked and damaged on the floor in the spot I had landed earlier. The phone screen displayed the words, “Private Caller.”

     “Is that Wicked?”

     I shook my head. “Umm Yeah, it’s my phone,” I quickly lied.

     “Are you going to answer it?” The Power Broker asked as I stood frozen in place.

     “Wha-Yes. I am,” I stuttered before cautiously picking up the phone. I silently cursed myself for acting like such an idiot. “Hello?” I asked. All I could hear was the sound of someone breathing. “Hello?” I repeated.

     “Kid,” Tony eventually answered. A slight crack in his voice.

    “Yeah?” I replied, trying to remain as neutral as possible.

     Tony released a long sigh. “I promise, first thing tomorrow morning, you’re getting a raise and 4 weeks vacation. When Karl called me I thought…well I’m just glad you’re okay.”

     “Sorry Dad,” I answered, my eyes locked on the Power Broker’s brown ones, “I can’t talk.”

     “Did you jus-“ Tony began, but I had already disconnected the call.

     “Everything okay?” The Power Broker asked with a raised eyebrow.

     “Fathers, am I right?” I said in an attempt to lighten the mood. Neither Loki nor the Power Broker looked amused. “Do you have a father?” I asked, rubbing the back of my neck.

     “Is that why you wanted me to contact you? To talk about our fathers?”

      “No,” I quickly retorted with a wave of my hand. “There’s a painting I want to buy. I don’t know who has it.”

     “You got a name?” The Power Broker asked, taking a felt tip pen from her desk.

     “I don’t know who has it.”

     “The name of the painting,” the Power Broker sighed.

     “The Man, the Woman and the Serpent. It’s a painting by-“

     “Bayam Shaw,” The Power Broker nodded, sucking her teeth. “Yeah, I’m familiar. I don’t have it.”

     “No, I know. I was hoping you could maybe, possibly, if you have time that is. It’s fine if you don’t-“

      The Power Broker waved her hand at me. “Oh my god, enough. This is painful to watch. The painting is part of a private collection, okay. Tracking it down might be difficult, and I’m a busy person.”

     “I’m willing to pay you.”

      “Willing?” The Power Broker laughed, “Well isn’t that generous of you. You better be willing because I don’t work for free.”

      I began swaying back and forth on the balls of my feet. “Soooo, can you help me?”

     “I don’t know,” The Power Broker admitted. She held up a hand in front of her face, and examined her perfectly manicured nails. “Seems like a lot of work. Let me talk to a friend of mine, and I’ll call you back in half an hour.”

     “Great,” I smiled. “I Look fo-“ The screen had already faded to black. “I’m fucking this up, aren’t I?” I grumbled as I slumped down onto Loki’s couch, and held my face in my hands.

     “You’re doing fine, Bug,” Loki lied, as he sat down next to me. He placed his hand on my knee. “I know people like the Power Broker. Trust me, I’m all too familiar. People like her can smell weakness. If you want her help, you need to demand it. Be more confident,” Loki gave my knee a gentle squeeze. “Tell her exactly what you want.”

     “You’re right. I think I’m just nervous.”

     “It’s because you're tense,” Loki tucked a strand of hair behind my ear. “Find something, anything, to distract yourself for the next few minutes.”

     I closed my eyes and leaned my head against the back of the sofa. I could still feel Loki’s hand on my knee. I let out a content sigh.

     I awoke to the sudden loss of Loki’s hands against my bare skin. “Why did you move your hand?” I sunk down further into Loki’s sofa. I stifled a yawn before closing my eyes again. “It felt nice.”

     Loki’s hand returned to my leg. His cool hand contrasted against my warm skin and lulled me into a tranquil state.

     “I think I might know how to make you relax, Bug,” Loki whispered in my ear. His voice was a low husk. “I’ll stop the second you tell me to.”

     “Why, what did you have in mind?” I asked, turning my head to face Loki.

     “Close your eyes,” Loki instructed with a kiss to my forehead.

     I felt Loki’s hand roam further up my leg until it reached my thigh. I closed my eyes, and relaxed further into the couch.

     “Loki?” I whimpered, as his hand brushed along my inner thigh.

     “Do you want me to stop?” Loki asked. I could already feel him retrieving his hand. My eyes flew open.

     “No,” I said quickly, sounding more desperate than I had intended.

     Loki let out a low chuckle and kissed my cheek. “That’s my good girl,” Loki said, his words causing me to shiver.

     I sucked in my breath when Loki returned his hand to my inner thigh. He continued to slowly caress my skin. I was already obscenely wet and could hardly contain my moan when Loki’s finger tapped against my soaked panties. Loki’s name fell from my lips like a prayer.

       “I’m all out of ideas,” Loki announced. His fingers had mercilessly stopped moving. “What do you purpose I do next?” Loki asked, speaking my name.

     This was all a cruel lesson. Loki was trying to teach me how to ask for what I wanted. Well, I wasn’t going to disappoint him.

     I opened my mouth. I was going to tell Loki to explore me with his fingers. To make me scream his name.

     “I want-,” was all I managed to let out. I couldn’t think with Loki’s fingers still near my black lace underwear.

     “Yes?” Loki smirked.

     “I want,” I bit my lip. “I want you to make me cum on your fingers.” My body stiffened in anticipation.

      “Shhh, relax. I’ve got you,” Loki whispered into my hair. I took a deep breath and did as he told me.

     “Loki. Fuckugh.” The words were stolen out of my mouth when Loki entered a long finger inside of me. My entire body trembled as Loki inserted yet another finger, and my legs instinctually opened wider.

      “Loki,” I whimpered.

      “Yes, love?” Loki sucked and nipped at my neck.

       “Don’t stop,” I moaned.

        “Yes, ma’am.”

     Loki’s hands were always my favourite part of him, but I was so naive to think I had experienced all of their glory. His fingers reached places inside me that I never could.

     “More,” I said breathlessly. Loki inserted another finger inside me. His fingers slowly circled my inner walls, before gently curling along my clit. “Yes, fuck,” I mewled in pleasure.

      “You’re so beautiful like this.” Loki rubbed the centre of my throbbing clit with his middle finger as he simultaneously squeezed either side with his wedding and index finger.

     As I squirmed, Loki moved along with me. He was studying my reaction. Every moan, every toe-curling scream, every time I begged him for more. Loki was a quick study. And the more Loki learned what gave me joy, the better he got. It was as if pleasuring me was his life’s calling. I had never known him to be so determined.

      “Do you know how often I imagined you just like this? Screaming my name as you come undone, on my fingers?”

     “Fuck,” I moaned, running my fingers through my hair. I then grabbed Loki’s neck and brought him to my lips. My mouth opened, allowing for Loki to begin exploring me with his tongue. He tasted like mint and vanilla.

     The need to breathe was the only reason I pulled away. My own fingers began roaming through Loki’s raven locks, as I bucked my hips towards him.

     I could feel my orgasm building up, threatening to spill out. Loki was alternating between moving his fingers agonizingly slow around my clit, to mind-numbingly fast.

     “I’m going to cum. Please make me cum,” I pleaded. “I need you, Loki.”

     “I know. I told you,” Loki kissed my forehead. “I’ve got you. You know you’re perfect, right?”

     “You’re not so bad yourself,” I smiled. “Lokiiiii,” I screamed, as he pumped his fingers in and out of me. Loki wrapped his free hand around the back of my neck and brought me in for another kiss. He swallowed each of my moans.

     Loki was no longer alternating between slow and fast movements. He was circling his fingers around my g-spot at a steadily fast pace, never once falling out of rhythm.

     “Oh my god, Loki. Fuckkkk.” My orgasm crashed over me like a wave. Loki gradually slowed his movements, as he allowed me to ride out my climax. He then built up more momentum, causing me to cum for a second time before he slowly pulled his fingers out of me.

     Loki’s eyes rolled into the back of his head as he sucked my juices off each one of his soaked fingers. He moaned at the taste.

     “Power Broker should be calling back any time now. Do you feel better?” Loki asked, as he stood up and walked behind the laptop.

     “Yeah,” I said sarcastically, standing up from the sofa myself. I was still dripping. “I feel too good. Who’s the Power Broker again?”

     Loki smiled. “Just take a seat,” he replied with a slight shake of his head as he pointed to one of his barstools.

*********************************

     “I see you’re still here,” The Power Broker said before pulling out her chair to take a seat. “Everything okay, you seem more disheveled.”

   I looked over at Loki. “As I said, it’s been a long night. So let’s not waste each other’s time.”

     “This painting must be really important to you. What's so special about a painting of Adam and Eve?”

     “I was told, you exercise discretion. My reasons for wanting that painting are none of your business.”

     “Fair enough,” The Power Broker said, sounding impressed with me. “I made some phone calls. The person who owned the painting was a catholic priest. He doesn’t have it anymore. He had someone sell it.”

     “And?” I blinked rapidly. “Wait? Is that it?”

     “That’s all I know. What can I say? You may want something, but sometimes it’s just not meant to be.”

     “Great,” I huffed.

     “I may have a number for someone who can help?”

     “Sure whatever,” I groaned and waved my hand dismissively as the Power Broker opened a desk drawer. While she looked for the phone number, I caught Loki’s eyes and shook my head. He opened his mouth as if about to speak but then quickly thought against it. 

     “Now the serpent was more cunning than any beast of the field,” I heard the Power Broker mumble to herself. “Damn. Looks like it’s not here,” she said, closing her drawer and looking up at me.

     The image of Stanley West, sitting across an interview table from Happy flashed through my mind. “- he thought he was more cunning than any beast of the field.” My eyes slightly widen.

     “What did you just say?” I asked in an even tone, but the hairs on my arm had stood straight up.

     “The number I was trying to find. I must have misplaced it.”

     “You said something about a serpent?”

      “Serpent? Oh, that. It’s just a quote from Genesis. Only reason I know is my father. My family is catholic. They tried to get me to join the church, but I hated it. The constant rules. The hypocrisy. Wasn’t for me.” The Broker laughed. “Well looks like you got me to talk about my father after all.”

     “Yeah, and look at you. Quoting scripture. Your father would be proud.”

     “The only good thing about my family’s church was the handsome lawyer that went to it. Matt,” The Power Broker cleared her throat. “Umm, Something.”

     “Hey, I once joined the track and field team for a boy and I hate running.”

     “Running is the worst, isn’t it? Anyway, it was nice meeting you. I’m sorry I couldn’t be of more help.”

     “You were plenty of help,” I smiled before signing off.

     “You seem happy,” Loki commented.

     “Cause I know who’s responsible for the bomb.”

      “You think it’s the cop, don’t you, because he and the Power Broker used the same quote? Humans are very fond of their scripture. How do you know it’s not a coincidence?”

      “Cause whoever this broker is, she and Stanley West went to the same church.”

      “I must have missed that,” Loki said, running his hand along his jaw. “When did she say that?”

     “Okay fine, It’s just a theory,” I admitted. “But I have a hunch that I’m right, and I know how we can figure out if she and West went to the same church.”

     “Okay,” Loki nodded for me to continue.

      “We just need to find Matt Something.”

*******************************************************

Author’s commentary

Smut, finally. Am I right? I had to read a lot of smut in preparation for this chapter. And I did all for you guys. So, you’re welcome. For those of you who started reading this story because I said there would be smut, thank you for your patience, and don’t worry, there will be more.

On a serious note; I want to thank everyone who is still reading my story. I know it’s been a while since I’ve posted. I’ve had this chapter finished for a while, but didn’t want to post it because I was contemplating giving up on this story. Even though this story isn’t “good” to me, other people seem to enjoy it. So I’ll do my best to finish it. Thank you to @too-many-idiots​ and @lokisdisneyprincess​ for your kind words. 

As usual, tag list is under the cut

Tag List

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@uselesssapphickitten  

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[bbysamu]

It ain’t Me - a series   

✎ Featuring: KUROO Tetsurou x you 

✎ Now Playing:  It Ain’t Me by Kygo & Selena Gomez 

✎ Genre: Angst 

✎ Word Count: 1,573 

✎ Preview: You and Kuroo are high school sweethearts, you thought your love was as strong as whiskey, burning and sweet. What happens when adult Kuroo develops a bad habit of clubbing too frequently and you find it harder and harder to reach him? 

Ch. I 

Ch. II

Ch. III

Ch. IV

Ch. V

Epilogue

a/n: no underage drinking please, don’t hinder your brain growth

♫I had a dream We were sipping whiskey neat Highest floor, The Bowery And I was high enough♫ 

“shhh, you have to be quiet babe, we’re not exactly allowed up here”, your boyfriend whispered as he pulled you up, guiding you to the rooftop. You nodded, slowly steadying your breath. 

The dark sky was empty with the exception of the half covered moon and some stray stars. Today was you and Kuroo’s second anniversary, your relationship lasting much longer than typical high school romances. Kuroo had texted you today saying he had a surprise for you. 

And the said surprise was a late night picnic on the school’s rooftop surrounded by big fluffy pillows and dimly lit candles. 

“when did you have time to organize all these?” 

Kuroo smiled proudly, “I had the boys bring over some spare pillows and Lev and Kenma hauled them up here during their free period”. You smiled at the image of the two boys bringing up pillows to the roof, giggling at the thought of Kenma complaining as he climbed the stairs to the roof. You made a mental note to thank the two tomorrow. 

Kuroo gingerly picked up your hand and led you over to the picnic blanket. The two of you quickly settled down, his arms around your waist, as you laid your head on his shoulder, talking about both everything and nothing. 

Kuroo suddenly brought out a bottle of light honey liquid. 

“Happy 2 years to the love of my life.” He said, delicately pouring the golden liquid into a small glass.

“only one glass?” You raised your eyebrows.

“of course, you’re not 18 yet!” 

“I’m literally turning 18 next week and you just turned last week!” 

“exactly! no underage drinking in this relationship.” He smiled cheekily at you before taking a swing at the liquid. You laughed out loud at his expression.

“ew people actually like this stuff? my throat is literally on fire.”

“wait, let me try!” 

“okay.” 

And instead of handing you the glass, Kuroo leaned in. 

You smiled as his tongue met yours, giving you a taste of the sweet whiskey. 

And that’s how the both of you will always remember your second anniversary, the empty night sky and the sweet, burning taste of whiskey. 

In the years since high school graduation, the two of you have settled into a comfortable pace, no longer the young teenagers, but hardworking adults in a cruel society. The honeymoon period was a distant phase, but that didn’t mean the love between the two of you dwindled. 

You shot a quick text to Kuroo. His lack of response brought a frown to your face. You tried to call him for the third time, this time directly reaching his voicemail. You sighed at the thought of him pressed up against another body and glared at the laptop in front of you. 

Halfway across the town, Kuroo stepped into the dimly lit club in a pressed black button up and some black pants. He lived for nights like these, the mingled bodies on the dance floor and the beautiful ladies. 

Kuroo loves you and he’s been warned by Kenma a bunch of times but he just couldn’t help himself. Kuroo knew you hated the club but he could never bring himself to stop coming. Week after week, especially since you started being asked to work overtime, Kuroo found himself and some of the boys at the club, drinking and dancing with the girls in the short skirts and bodycon dresses. 

Yamamoto wolf-whistled at the sight of the girls walking by, “dang, look at that girl in the black mini”. 

Kuroo whipped his head around and checked out her long legs and low-cut dress before turning to Yamamoto, “I need a drink first”. 

Yamamoto shook his head knowing what this meant. A drink then another was what Kuroo needed to numb himself from the growing guilt eating him away every time he was at the club. With enough alcohol, Kuroo was always able to convince himself he did nothing wrong as he gripped the waist of another woman, his lips on hers. 

He winked at the bartender and a shot was served up. The burning, sweet liquid brought him back to that picnic on the rooftop. He shook his head, chasing away the memory and shot a smile at the girl in the back dress, before making his way over to her. 

♫Somewhere along the lines We stopped seeing eye to eye You were staying out all night And I had enough♫

It was a little past midnight when you made your way over to Kuroo’s apartment, spare key in hand. You knew he was probably at the club, but he promised he’d be home around midnight. Things have been tense between the two of you lately. You sighed at the memory of your fight last week. 

“What do you mean it was nothing?” You shouted, exasperated at the man sitting across from you. “She was all over you!” You sighed internally, tired of always fighting with Kuroo about his clubbing behavior. 

Kuroo shook his head, “babe, I told you, I literally pushed her away, but the video caught the seconds she came on to me before I could even react. I love you, you know that. Why would I ever want someone else?” Kuroo knew he had you by the way your eyes softened, he mentally winced at his lie, memories of making out with the woman fleeted by in his mind. He quickly pushed them away, the guilt barely lingering. Kuroo notices he’s better at doing that.  

“you’re the only one for me” He said pulling you into a hug, his words trying to convince himself more than you. Tired of fighting, you chose to believe him, after all who would you believe, your boyfriend of five years or a 10 second video? 

The turn of the knob brought you back to reality. You smiled at the thought of his surprised face when he comes home to you later. You quickly changed into one of his spare t-shirts and settled down in his bed. “12:30 am” your phone read before you drifted off to sleep. 

♫ No, I don't wanna know Where you been or where you're goin' But I know I won't be home And you'll be on your own ♫ 

The soft light of sunrise woke you up earlier than your alarm. Your body feeling unexpectedly light as you turn to face the empty space. You thought you would wake up to a Kuroo cuddling you. 

“6:27 am” and no notifications on your phone. You got up, unable to sleep anymore, anger and frustration bubbling at the lack of communication from your boyfriend. 

You look in his fridge, empty except for some leftover boxes. Despite your feelings of anger towards Kuroo, you made a mental note to bring over some groceries next time. You decided to make some tea, mindlessly scrolling through the news. 

A sudden click of the door got you looking up from your phone to see two figures, one unfamiliar, the other as familiar as the back of your hand. 

“You know we could just stay at my place. Why’d you have to insist on this weird coffee?” 

You knew exactly what coffee the female voice was referring to. It was the same one you got him from Vienna that time you studied abroad and he’s been hooked on Viennese coffee ever since. 

You heard his voice, “once you taste it, you won’t ever be able to go back I’m telling you”. 

“where’d you get it from?” 

The two figures stepped into the living room just as Kuroo answered, “oh, just from a frie...” he trailed off as you entered into his field of vision. 

The colors draining from his face, the same look of shock mirrored on your features. 

The woman came into view a second after, confused, “wait, who’s this?” 

The look on both of your faces and the tension in the air got her scrambling to the door embarrassed, mumbling a quick apology on her way out. 

Smart woman, you thought. 

You looked at each other in silence. You took him all in. The ruffled hair, the faint hickey on the side of his jaw, the same black button-ups he wore to the club yesterday. 

Kuroo did the same. You standing across the room, dwarfed in a shirt he bought at nationals, a thousand hurts and emotions in your big tired eyes. 

You broke the silence first, too shocked and hurt to even register what had happened five minutes again. 

“I’m leaving.” 

“Y/N wait...” he reached for your hand and pulled you close. You recoiled as soon as you smelled the cheap perfume intertwined with the same whiskey he’s taken a like to after high school. 

“please I can explain.” He search your eyes desperately. 

You shook his hands off yours and quickly gathered your stuff. 

“I’m leaving...”

He cut you off before you could finish, “yeah I heard the first time, please just give me a chance to explain.” 

“you.” 

The shook on his face made it hard to look at him. You cleared your throat. 

“I’m leaving you”. 

You rushed past him, but not before he caught the glimpse of tears running down your cheeks. 

You realized Kuroo was like a bad shot of whiskey, burning, yet all signs of the sweet aftertaste disappearing. 

[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 :)

[kamoniwa]

 ⟼ a little madness

・‥…━━━━━━━☆☆━━━━━━━…‥・

⇢ pairing: yokai!kuroo/demon!akaashi/human!reader/werewolf!semi

⇢ au: college!au

⇢ summary: you, your friends, and some friends of your friends all get tricked by one tendou satori into visiting an abandoned amusement park for halloween. it turns out it isn’t ghosts you need to worry about, though.

⇥  kinktober masterlist

⇢ warnings: gangbang, noncon to consensual, lots of reluctance, mind break if you squint?, technical temperature play, unprotected sex, creampie, the boys are real gentle in breaking you down

⇢ word count: 11,695

・‥…━━━━━━━☆☆━━━━━━━…‥・

⇢ a/n: don’t really think noncon is my forte but practice makes perfect. is the pairing self-indulgent? fat yes. does this fic make total sense? not really sure. did i have fun writing it? hell yeah. also big thank you to @ishuzoku​ for helping me come up with the flyer bc my og id was garbage lmao.

Furrowing your brows, you looked at Tendo with a mix of exasperation and unadulterated dismay.

“An abandoned amusement park. On Halloween?” Kaori asked before you could, eyebrows disappearing into her bangs. “You cannot be serious, Tendo.”

If he was put off by your reactions, he didn’t show it. If anything, he was probably relishing in it, and said, “Yes, yes I am. It’ll be fun. Come on, do you really just wanna get drunk at a boring house party on Halloween?”

You snorted at that, stirring your coffee as you said, “As opposed to getting murdered at an amusement park? That’s like, straight out of a horror movie, Tendo.”

“You guys are so boring,” he whined, slumping forward across the table. Shirabu grumbled under his breath, glaring at Tendo as he nudged his drink closer to Shirabu’s textbook. “Look, it’ll be so cool! Exploring all the abandoned funhouses and imagine how freaky the haunted houses will be! Just think about it, okay?”

The looks everyone exchanged said they had and had already made up their minds, but you nodded anyway, if for no other reason than to appease him.

A moment later, your alarm went off and you bid them goodbye, walking towards the door with Shirabu for your next lecture. You were sure as shit not going to an abandoned anything this weekend.

Except somehow, against all odds, you were piled up in the back of Konoha’s car, crammed beside someone who had been introduced to you as Akaashi Keiji. He was a friend of Bokuto’s and Konoha’s and, upon hearing about your adventure, asked if he could tag along. If you had to peg him, he was more the librarian type than a ghost hunter type-- soft spoken and well mannered with pretty blue eyes that closed slightly when he smiled.

In the front seat were Konoha-- driving-- and Yachi, currently fighting with the radio and Konoha’s phone. 

In the car behind you was someone named Kuroo-- also a friend of Bokuto and Akaashi-- Kaori, Goshiki, and Semi-- a friend of Shirabu, Goshiki, and Tendo. Kuroo was almost ecstatic to be going, but Semi had seemed like he would rather be doing anything else as he climbed into the passenger seat of Kuroo’s car.

The car in front contained Tendo, Bokuto, Yukie, and-- god bless him-- Shirabu. You were sure he was losing his mind as Tendo guided him towards the location of the amusement park. The details on how exactly this had come about were lost on you, but you vaguely recalled a drunken bet made two nights ago and a video that Tendo refused to share properly, but assured you was proof that the group had agreed to the terms of said bet and then lost. Spectacularly. Supposedly.

“So, how did you meet everyone?” Akaashi asked, turning to look at you. The scenery outside was turning quickly from civilization to wilderness, the trees growing thicker the further you drove until you couldn’t tell one trunk from the next. 

Humming, you rested your chin in your hand, bracing your elbow on the door. This was the worst part of meeting someone new during a trip-- tedious small talk. But you had to start somewhere, so you said, “I met Kaori in one of our classes and ‘Toka-- er, Yachi--” The girl turned around at the sound of her name and waved. “-- is my roommate. They kind of introduced me to everyone else.”

Truth be told, you weren’t sure how they had become your core group of friends. From loud and boisterous Bokuto to sullen and taciturn Shirabu, you adored all of them, but you had had your own group of friends before meeting them. Most of those old friends had faded from sight as you found yourself absorbed in your new ones and, while a part of you felt bad, it was just a part of life.

“What about you?” you asked, glancing at him from the corner of your eye. “How do you know them?”

Konoha snickered from the front seat and Akaashi cut him a glare before turning back to you. “I’ve been friends with Konoha, Bo, and Tetsuro since highschool. Kaori and Yukie were our managers,” he said.

Konoha made a turn onto a road who’s name sign had long since fallen off the rusty pole, and you wondered just how far out you had traveled. It didn’t feel like it had been long since you left, but you recognized nothing around you and there was no sign of life. 

“So, everyone but ‘Toka and I were friends in highschool, huh?” You chuckled. “What are the odds?”

Akaashi laughed with you, fiddling with his fingers as he turned back to look out his window. 

The car was now filled with the sound of music, overtaking the silence that fell between the four of you. Konoha was focused on driving and you knew Yachi was more than a little nervous-- you had almost expected her to back out and accept whatever payback Tendo had planned for it afterwards.

“Do any of you guys know anything about this place?” you asked, leaning forward and resting your chin on Yachi’s seat. Through the windshield, you could see Tendo’s shaved head and Bokuto’s spiky locks in the backseat, and worried for poor Shirabu’s sanity. “How did Tendo even know this place existed?”

“It’s an old legend,” Akaashi spoke up softly. 

Both you and Yachi turned to look at him, the latter’s breath hitching because everyone knew when those words were said, the story was going to be unpleasant.

Konoha cursed as he hit a pothole, muttering Tendo’s name under his breath as he righted the car between the faded lane lines, and Akaashi smiled at that before looking back to you.

“I doubt most people have heard of it,” he began, popping his knuckles one at a time. “It’s more of a local thing, really.”

“Well then how do you know about it?” you asked curiously, quirking a brow. You knew Bokuto grew up in Tokyo, which meant Akaashi had as well, and you were well outside of the city limits.

Akaashi smiled, tipping his head to the side and for the first time there was something other than soft indifference in it. “I enjoy these types of places and legends. It’s a hobby, you might say. This particular amusement park was meant to be scary in nature and didn’t stay open for long due to unexplained deaths and disappearances.”

Yachi squeaked, and you cast her a glance before resting your hand on her shoulder. This was probably not the best story for someone as easily scared as she was, but it was too late now, and you knew there was curiosity beneath the fear.

“That sounds way too vague,” you said, lips curling up at the corners. “That’s what everyone says about places like this. It’s not scary.”

Your skepticism was met with laughter and he said, “True. The police at the time pinned the problems on faulty attractions or poor background checks, saying there must have been a serial killer hired without anyone realizing. Sounds to me like they just couldn’t figure out what was causing it.”

You rolled your eyes, nodding along. If the park was as old as Tendo said, it could really have been faulty attractions, but you weren’t buying the serial killer story. It sounded too far-fetched compared to being crushed by an unstable support beam. 

Akaashi continued, voice dropping in what might have been a scary attempt at atmosphere if the sun wasn’t framing his pretty features in a golden glow behind him. “The locals all said that the place was haunted, too many deaths had built up negative energy, trapping the spirits of those killed there. Unable to escape, they grew angry and the deaths continued until authorities labeled the park unsafe and banned any more visitors. And then--”

“What the hell?” Konoha cut him off, hitting the brakes a little harder than necessary.

Akaashi’s seat belt locked and he grunted, rubbing at the new red mark on his neck as he asked, “What’s going on?”

“Dunno,” Konoha replied, putting the car in park. “Sorry about that. Shirabu is getting out of the car.”

The car behind you pulled up as you were getting out, eyes wide as you watched Tendo lay a map out on the trunk of Shirabu’s car.

“We’re lost,” you said, sighing in exasperation.

A tall figure blocked out the sun in front of you and you squinted up into the face of Kuroo. He was giving you a catlike grin, ruffling his messy rooster hair as he said, “Sure seems that way, princess. This place is in the middle of nowhere. I’ll be surprised if we even find it.” He guided you over to the car where the others were gathered, snickering at the look of surprise on your face. “What?”

“You know about this place too?” you asked, glancing at Akaashi on the other side of the car. He cast you a small, closed eyed smile. “Akaashi was telling us about it in the car.”

Kuroo chuckled, raising a brow at his friend. “Yeah, being friends with Akaashi has its share of hazards.”

“Look, I’m pretty sure we’re here,” Tendo said, interrupting your conversation. He was pointing to a small line that looked just like any other on the map, aside from the major roadways and cities. If he was right, you were a decent ways out of the city and your watch read 1:01pm. “If we just follow this road and then this one, it’ll lead us straight past the village and to the park.”

Shirabu looked skeptical, spinning the map around to look at it as well. He wasn’t exactly wrong but how could he really tell? All the smaller roads looked the same and they couldn’t even confirm the name of the road because there was no sign. It had also been ages since they last saw a house or even another car, so asking anyone was out of the question too.

“This is stupid,” he sighed, running his fingers through his hair. No one besides Tendo really wanted to be there-- he ignored the fact that Kuroo was just as excited as his weirdo friend to be going and that Akaashi had jumped at the opportunity as well-- and it would be so much easier to just turn around and go to Hinata’s party. “We should just go home before we get lost.”

Tendo frowned at that, sharing a look with Kuroo before saying, “We aren’t lost*. It’s not much further now. Just trust me.”

The others were all inclined to agree with Shirabu, you included, but arguing with Tendo was like arguing with a brick wall-- pointless. He had already tricked you into agreeing to this endeavor and at this point backing out would be both a waste of time and gas. Shirabu was too smart to get lost anyway but, if you were lucky, Tendo was wrong and you wouldn’t be able to find the place at all.

“Do you really think we’ll be able to find it?” Yachi asked once you were safely back in the car. 

Akaashi hummed beside you, but you said, “God I hope not. I was looking forward to Hinata’s party and if we get back quick enough we might still make it.”

Konoha looked at you in the rearview, eyes crinkled as he snickered. “What, are you scared, _____? Afraid the ghosts are gonna get ya?”

Scoffing, you dug through your bag for your phone. A check an hour ago had revealed one bar, but now the words ‘No Service’ blazed across the service banner. “No, I’m not scared. There are just a thousand better things to be doing that than breaking my neck on rusty amusement park rides.”

“Sounds like cowardice to me,” he answered, laughing at you through the mirror. 

Sticking your tongue out at him, you turned back to the window, sighing as the scenery passed by in a blur. Konoha and Akaashi talked a lot about volleyball, Yachi pitching in occasionally. You knew she had managed her highschool volleyball team and knew everyone else in the group to some degree, but most everything sports related went over your head. 

Still, Akaashi made some effort to get to know you, asking about highschool and what classes you were taking. You told him about your major and asked what his was, finding out he was a literature major and constantly busy, explaining why you had never met him before. He, Kuroo, and Semi were the busiest out of all their friends, often skipping out on get togethers in order to study, work, or-- in Semi’s case-- practice with his band.

A little while later, while Yachi and Konoha were having a heated discussion about their favorite subjects, you caught the first glimpse of something besides trees. Turning to look out the windshield, you saw brake lights already lighting up and the car began to slow.

“Well, we found the village, at least,” Tendo said, reading the faded sign displaying the name of the town. “I didn’t expect it to be abandoned too, though.”

Everyone was gathered in the middle of the road, looking down the mainstreet of the village. Windows were busted out and boarded up, paint faded on rotten clapboards, and roofs missing tiles or riddled with holes. The street was littered with potholes and the whole town had an eerie sense of unnatural quiet. Everyone shifted on their heels, slowly making their way back towards the cars without a word and piling in. 

Even Tendo looked unnerved.

The town disappeared behind you but in the distance you could see the towering track of a roller coaster above the treeline. Even from so far away you could see that the paint was faded off of it, the sun filtering through clouds and casting the whole area in shades of grey. To you, it seemed like the forest was darker, the trees packed more closely together, and your heart began to thump in your chest.

“You okay?” Akaashi’s gentle voice asked in your ear. His hand landed on your shoulder, colder than expected, and you shivered underneath his touch. “You look like you’ve already seen a ghost.”

You nodded, looking over to find him giving you a look of amused concern, one corner of his mouth turned up in a half smile. “Just nervous. That town was creepy as hell and it freaked me out a little.”

“Me too!” Yachi squeaked from the front seat, turning around to give you a pleading look. “Don’t you dare leave me, _____.”

Laughter filled the car then and you patted Yachi on the shoulder. “Wouldn’t dream of it, ‘Toka.”

The towering sign for the park appeared up ahead and the car fell silent all over again as brake lights lit up again. Broken glass and gravel littered the parking lot, which was smaller than expected for how big the park looked. 

Everyone seemed to hesitate on getting out of the cars. Tendo was the first, followed by Kuroo, and then Akaashi. Like it was a signal, the rest of you followed, Yachi clinging onto your hand and Kuroo and Akaashi seeming to stand behind you protectively, close enough that you could feel warmth radiating off them.

“Do we really have to go in there?” Goshiki asked, eyeing the ticket booth with disdain. The paint on it, like everything else, was faded, the wood rotten and the window and door busted out. The latter creaked on its hinges, filling the still air with an unsettling noise that mixed with the faint sounds of creaking metal and leaves fluttering in the wind.

Everyone shuffled back towards the cars a little at his question, but Tendo took a step forward, resting his hand on the turnstile. “Since we’re actually here, may as well take a look around.”

Without another moment of hesitation, he hopped over it, peering around with an unusually quiet interest. It was the first time since you had met Tendo that he had nothing to say, his already pale face seemingly devoid of color, making his vibrant, sleepy eyes pop out even more.

Groaning, you, Shirabu, and Goshiki stepped forward, dragging Yachi with you as you climbed over the turnstile as well. You couldn’t just let Tendo wander off into the dangerous park alone. The others followed suit, muffled whispers and conversations floating through the air as they spread out in the area. 

The forest had started taking back over through the concrete, weeds and grass sprouting up through the cracks and pushing the cobblestones up and out of place. Vines of ivy and moss hung from the powerpoles, vendor booths, and some attractions further back, swaying in the gentle breeze. The buildings were dark inside, but through the gloom you could make out mannequins and shelves devoid of merchandise.

The bell dinged on the first one Tendo pushed open-- a souvenir shop. It was empty except for dust and garbage, as were the next few you entered.

Slowly but surely the group made their way further into the park, Yachi clinging onto you the whole time. Akaashi and Kuroo were right behind the two of you, Shirabu and Semi in front, forming a kind of guard while Tendo and Bokuto led the way. Kaori clung to Goshiki, who looked like he was putting on a brave front despite his pink cheeks and the nervousness in his eyes.

For all his grumbling, Shirabu looked interested as he eyed all the buildings and machinery. It was quiet, devoid even of the sound of birdsong or humming bugs, and it unsettled you.

“Oh look, it’s the pirate ship ride!” Bokuto yelled suddenly, breaking the deathly silence.

Everyone jumped, Shirabu hissing at him to shut up while Yukie shrieked, latching onto him. Bokuto had the decency to look abashed but still steered the group towards the derelict platform, testing his weight on the creaky metal stairs on his way up.

The deck of the ship was littered with leaves and dust, the seats worn down and showing stuffing and springs after however many years left in the element. There were signs of rust on the metal and the whole thing shifted slightly to emit a creak.

“Um, Bo, I don’t think that’s safe,” Kuroo called out, grabbing your arm to stop you from following up behind him. 

Tendo and Goshiki were up beside him, examining the boat itself and, before anyone knew it, the former had hopped into it.

“Tendo!” Shirabu called, a trace of panic in his voice. His fingers were wrapped around the railing, paint flakes coming away under his touch hand as he prepared to spring up the stairs, but everyone’s eyes were locked on Tendo’s precarious creep down the middle aisle. “Get out of there before you get hurt, idiot!”

“It’s fine, Shirabu,” he called, now standing at the bow. “It’s kinda cool actually. I can see more of the park from here.”

Bokuto landed with a thump a moment later, a louder creak ringing out than when lanky Tendo had landed, and everyone took a collective breath and held it. 

But as before, it held, and he joined Tendo up by the bow.

“Wow, he’s right!” he called, holding his hand above his eyes like a visor and peering out over the park. It was certainly bigger than he imagined for being in the middle of nowhere. “There’s a house over that way!”

“Probably the haunted house,” Tendo said, straining to see what Bokuto was looking at. In the distance were two stilted, twisted steeples painted in different hues. One was flamboyant and bright, the other dark and dreary, even compared to the state of disrepair of the rest of the park. “I see a funhouse too, I think. Looks pretty freaky. Wanna check ‘em out?”

“Hell yeah,” Bokuto shouted, whipping around to look at the rest of you.

Shirabu looked ready to blow a gasket, and Yachi looked ready to faint, but everyone else looked intrigued. Even you couldn’t help but be a little curious about it, having free range to explore the most interesting rides in the park. Wasn’t it everyone’s dream to be able to see what they were like without restraint? 

The sun was just beginning to fade behind the treeline, turning the clouds a thin shade of orange, but the lure of seeing something interesting had dissolved any real fear.

The two men met Goshiki on the platform and made their way back down to the rest of the group, eyes shining bright with the promise of adventure.

“I told you it wouldn’t be so bad!” Tendo said as if the stunt he just pulled hadn’t taken years off all your lives. Jumping haphazardly onto a decade old, rusted out death trap attraction at an abandoned amusement park hours from the nearest hospital wasn’t going to earn him any genius awards.

On the way towards the supposed attractions, you came across the carousel. Its metal panels were tarnished, the paint worn away from them and the animals, the mirrors grimy with dirt. Vines and ivy climbed up everywhere. The platform shifted when Kuroo stepped onto it, Tendo hot on his heels followed closely by Bokuto. 

“Let’s go see, ‘Toka,” you said, tugging her forward by the hand. Kaori took your other one, squeezing, while Akaashi guided you with a gentle hand on your back.

“Look at this,” someone said, and you turned to find Semi holding a faded paper. “It looks like a poster claiming someone was kidnapping people.”

“How the hell is it still here?” Konoha asked, peering at it around Semi’s arm. “It should have disintegrated a long damn time ago.”

“Dunno,” Semi said with a frown. Trying to see the paper, you were crowded against Semi by Yachi and Kaori and flinched when you realized how hot he was. “It was wedged in the frame of the mirror.”

The whole thing was faded but still legible, due presumably to being tucked into the mirror, and appeared to be a flyer issued by the park itself.

Due to the recent disappearances, park security has been tightened. Please stay aware of your surroundings and report and suspicious activity immediately.

“You were right, Akaashi,” you said, glancing up at the man standing behind you. “They really did think someone was kidnapping people.”

“A lot of the people were never found,” Semi said, folding the sheet up neatly and tucking into his pocket. “It’s not surprising they thought that.”

“Ohhhh, maybe the bodies are still here,” Tendo said, wiggling his fingers over Konoha’s shoulders. “Maybe it was actually the workers kidnapping people and they kept the bodies in a secret place.”

“Like where?” Shirabu asked, giving him an exasperated, skeptical look. It was getting late and they were wasting time just hanging around. He wasn’t particularly thrilled at the idea of being in the park after dark, going to possibly the scariest attraction in the place, but if they were going to do it, they needed to just get it done. “The authorities probably tore this place apart looking for them.”

Tendo shrugged, looking thoughtful. “Maybe they hid them in the haunted house. Maybe there’s a hidden room somewhere that only the workers knew how to open.”

“Could you not?” Yukie asked, slapping Tendo on the arm. “We’re going there, in case you forgot, pea brain. Way to freak us out.”

Yachi was clinging onto Kaori now, staring at Tendo with wide, frightened eyes and he almost looked repentant.

“Or, you know, could be anywhere. The haunted house would be a pretty obvious place to hide it, wouldn’t it?” he said, rubbing the back of his head. Beckoning to Yachi, she went reluctantly, letting Tendo tuck her under his arm. “Don’t worry, Yach. I’ll protect you, ‘kay?”

You and Kaori snickered at the shade of red her face turned, and Shirabu sighed.

“Can we just get going before it gets too late?” he asked, turning and leading the way down the path. The shadows were slowly lengthening, orange mixing with shades of pink and purple in the sky.

Semi fell into step beside you, Yukie on your other side. Goshiki and Konoha were having a conversation about the derelict rollercoaster to the right, and you allowed your attention to drift to it. It was eerie, the faded paint and rusted metal tracks looming like a foreboding beacon above you. Staring the way you were, your foot caught a displaced cobblestone and you went sprawling with a yelp.

Before you could smack the ground, a strong, warm hand wrapped around your upper arm and hauled you back up. It hurt, causing a sharp ache in your shoulder, but it still hurt less than the concrete probably would have. Looking up at your savior, you gave him a half smile.

“Thanks, Semi,” you said, rubbing your shoulder.

But he was frowning at you-- not that that was any different than the look he’d worn all day-- but this one was marred by soft concern. “Are you alright? You’re awfully cold.”

“O-Oh. No, I’m fine. Just got distracted by the coaster,” you said, giggling in embarrassment. “It is a bit chilly though, now that you mention it. I didn’t notice.”

There was a moment's hesitation, then the sound of a zipper being drawn down. A weight settled across your shoulders, surrounding you with an unfamiliar cologne, and your cheeks heated up at the realization that he had given you his jacket.

“That’s okay, Semi, really,” you said, shrugging the jacket off. “It isn’t that bad, and it’s my own fault. I left mine in the car.”

“No worries, _____,” he said, and for the first time you could see a small smile on his face in the dim light. “I’m not cold, so you can take it.”

“Well, thanks, I guess,” you said, pulling it back around your shoulders. It was warm and you smiled when you caught him looking at you. He was wearing a peculiar look, kind but almost possessive, and he licked his lips once before looking forward again.

You shivered, unsure if you were just seeing things. The park had rattled your nerves and Semi was just being nice. You didn’t know him well enough to make a judgement call like that and forced down the uneasiness, taking your place beside him again.

“Smooth move, klutz,” Konoha quipped, nudging your back. Goshiki and Shirabu snickered and you flipped them off over your shoulder, looping your other arm with Yukie.

The steepled spires of the haunted house came into view, beside which stood the funhouse, like Tendo said. Both looked terrifying in the dying light of the sun. Like everything else, the paint was almost gone, shingles missing from the roofs which were adorned with holes.

Without thinking, you reached out and grabbed Semi’s arm, pressing yourself to it. He glanced at you for a moment, a soft smile flitting across his face before looking at Tendo, who was staring between the two buildings.

“I wanna go in the funhouse,” Tendo said, turning back to the rest of the group. Setting his hands on his hips, he looked around at everyone. “Should we go as a group?” Kuroo shifted, pointing his feet towards the haunted house. “I kinda wanna go in there, actually.”

“Well no one should go anywhere alone,” Shirabu said firmly, and everyone nodded in agreement. If someone got hurt, no one would know for ages and then there was the long ride back on top of it.

“So we’ll split up. Everyone pick a house,” Tendo said, clapping his hands. 

Yukie’s arm around yours disappeared and she scurried over to Tendo, looking at you apologetically. Yachi took her place instead, looking for all the world like she was going to collapse from fright, and you gave her a concerned look.

“I’m going wherever you go,” she said, and you raised a brow. 

Before you could answer, Kuroo’s arm slung around your shoulders, looming over Yachi’s tiny form. “It looks like everyone’s decided. Pretty even split. Let’s meet back here in--” He checked his watch. “Two hours? That should be enough time to see everything.”

You opened your mouth to object, but Tendo nodded while Shirabu set the timer on his watch. “Everyone be careful, please. We really can’t afford any injuries.”

Yachi looked up at the dark house looming before you while the other group made their way towards the funhouse. 

You could hear Tendo’s voice echo back, saying, “That’s the reason we have you here, Shirabu. You’re a doctor and all.”

Shirabu said something in return, but it was lost in the distance as you were herded towards the haunted house. The doors hung open, swinging in the breeze and creaking.  It seemed like the house sucked all the warmth from the air the closer you got to it, and you squeezed Semi’s arm in yours.

“Scared, princess?” Kuroo whispered in your ear, raising the hairs on the back of your neck when his warm breath met your cold skin. “You shouldn’t be. We’re here with you.”

The steps leading into it sagged beneath your weight, the wood softer than it should’ve been and it came as no surprise when one broke beneath Semi’s weight. He cursed while you and Yachi pulled back, keeping him from falling over and potentially hurting himself. It took Akaashi and Kuroo both to pull him up out of the hole and a quick check revealed his jeans had protected his leg.

“Are you alright?” you whispered, looking up into Semi’s unamused face. He was wearing a hard scowl, his grip on you iron clad now as he guided you up the steps.

“Sure,” he said, eyes softening when he looked down at you. “Just annoyed.”

Inside, the light from your phones seemed to be swallowed by the darkness. The dust was thick and the air musty and humid. Cobwebs hung from everything, casting long shadows into the darkness beyond the halo of your flashlights.

Yachi yelped, tripping over a rotted track board and would have dragged you down if you weren’t holding onto Semi so tightly. His heat was almost a comfort now, driving away the persistent chill that seemed to emanate from the ramshackle walls. You couldn’t tell where the fabricated deterioration ended and true rot began.

“This way then?” Akaashi asked, leading the way into the first door. It was the kitchen area, set up to look like a butcher shop. A thick layer of dust settled over everything, motes flurrying through the painfully white light from your phones in an eerie dance that made it even harder to see.

Old props lay on the worn countertops, splotches of what was likely-- hopefully-- fake blood a dark black on the faded wood and laminate. Someone had a hand on your back while Akaashi examined a chain hanging from the ceiling, something hanging from the end of it. It made a strange noise when he pushed it, a crackly, grinding noise like it was rusty. It wouldn’t be a surprise, with the humidity as high as it is. 

“That’s a little unsettling,” Kuroo admitted, and you all jumped when a loud crash rang out somewhere further down.

“Now would be the time to leave if we were in a horror movie,” you hinted through gritted teeth, even as Kuroo stepped back out into the hall. He scanned the darkness, his phone hanging by his side, the light pointed towards the floor. “What do you expect to see anyway, genius?”

He turned back to wink before disappearing into the dark and you groaned, straining your eyes to see anything. His light was lost in the gloom and you released Yachi’s arm, taking a step forward. Semi allowed himself to be dragged along with you while Goshiki held Yachi, petting her hair as she whimpered.

Swearing, you and Semi trudged down the hallway, listening for any noises but heard nothing besides the sounds of an old building settling. Your voice caught in your throat when you opened your mouth to call for Kuroo, your ire failing in the face of the oppressive darkness in the heart of the house. Swiping a cobweb off your face, you shined your phone around, lighting up a destroyed living room area, two hallways, and a staircase.

“You don’t think he went upstairs, do you?” Semi whispered, following your line of sight.

Swallowing, you said, “God I fuckin’ hope not. This is so creepy, can’t we just leave him?”

He chuckled against his will, a quiet, rough noise as he tried to stifle it. “‘Fraid not. I don’t wanna deal with the cops.”

Heaving a sigh, you pointed the light down to the floor and found no sign of footprints in the thick dust. Flashing it behind you, you saw your own and Semi’s clearly visible and frowned. “Hey, look.”

Semi scoured the floor, waving his light all around you. “He definitely came this way.”

Nodding, you pointed the light back in front of you, down the hallway, but it was unable to break more than a few inches of darkness. “Okay, now I’m really freaked out. Where is he?”

New light joined your meager one, shuffling footsteps coming to a stop just behind you. 

Akaashi’s hand landed on your shoulder, peering over your head at where you were staring.

“This way,” Semi said after a moment of silence. It was broken only by Yachi’s occasional sniffle and you wondered if you shouldn’t just return to the front door and let Semi and Akaashi handle the rescue. But gentle pressure on your arm and shoulder guided you down, sniffling at the dust before you broke out into a sneeze.

The floor creaked beneath your feet, making the already eerie feeling worse as you crept down the hall. There were faded, torn paintings lining the walls, a few false doors, and windows painted black and boarded up. You couldn’t tell if the paint peeling up the walls was due to age or intent, but it certainly didn’t help settle your unease. 

“Careful,” Semi said suddenly, jerking you sideways into him. The cold hand slid off your shoulder and a light revealed a hole in the middle of the floor, where you had been about to step.

“Thanks,” you breathed, swallowing harshly. The dust was starting to sting your eyes and you repressed another sneeze, rubbing your nose. 

Skirting around the hole, it opened into another room, what appeared to be a library. Overstuffed armchairs littered the room, the shelves lining the walls stacked with what were likely fake books. There was no sign of Kuroo, but Semi led you further into the room carefully.

He wasn’t careful enough, though.

Once second you were clinging to him, the next you heard a crack and then you were experiencing the most curious sensation. Your stomach swooped as the light disappeared, and you realized belatedly that you were falling. Something warm, almost scalding wrapped around you, and your fall stopped short with a grunt of impact.

You lay there stunned for several long moments, head spinning and heart beating hard enough that you could feel it in your ears. The dark was only furthering your disorientation and you only realized you were laying on something when it moved beneath you.

Sitting up, you felt something slump over your shoulders before coughing filled your ears.

“Semi?” you whispered hoarsely. Above you, you registered screaming and looked up only to be blinded by light.

Semi grunted behind you but didn’t move, breathing heavy against your back. From above, you could hear muted conversation before the shrieking stopped.

“_____, Semi, are you both okay?” Akaashi’s concerned voice reached your ringing ears, and you nodded in response.

It took you a moment to realize he probably couldn’t see you, calling up, “Yeah, I think so. Semi--”

“‘M fine,” he yelled, though he sounded winded. 

“Are you sure?” you asked, wrapping a hand around the wrist dangling in front of you. A few feet away lay your phone, face down, the light muted but visible, and you sighed in relief. “You caught me, are you sure*?”

Semi chuckled, a rough noise. “Yeah, I’m sure. Trust me.”

“You guys stay there,” Akaashi commanded, then turned back to Goshiki and Yachi to say something. “I’ll find a way down to you.”

He disappeared and you scrambled forward, snatching your phone up. Moving back to the relative safety of Semi’s presence, you shined it around. 

The basement, you decided upon seeing the array of monster props and torture machines, was perhaps the most terrifying part of the house. It was only heightened by your adrenaline rush, the shadows seeming to jump out to your paranoid mind.

As the adrenaline wore off, you took stock of your extremities. Semi really had cushioned you-- nothing hurt-- and you turned to face him.

In the light, he really did look fine, even his breathing had evened out, and he looked back at you with a smirk. “Told you. I’m tougher than you think.”

“I’m beginning to realize that,” you admitted, getting to your feet. You didn’t let Semi get far, linking your arm with his and clinging to him, much to his amusement.

His eyes adjusted to the dark faster than yours and he located his phone near the base of a rusty filing cabinet. The screen was cracked-- which he cursed-- but it still worked, and he turned the flashlight back on.

“This is creepy as fuck,” he muttered, thumping the model of a skeletal doctor to see the dust swirl. There was a medical table in the center of the room with a light looming over it. He assumed there was supposed to be a body laying on said table and, in the dark, it was a scary thought that it was no longer there. “I hope Akaashi hurries up. I don’t like it here.”

You couldn’t stifle the small giggle, though you covered your mouth in a poor attempt. It was the nerves, you were sure, because as he moved away you held tighter, stumbling after him. He tried one door, the handle stiff enough that you recognized it to be fake. There was a set of metal double doors on the other side of the room and those swung open with an eerie grinding noise, scraping across the concrete floor.

The hallways extended to either direction, cells lining the wall in front of you and you shuddered. “Let’s go, Semi, please,” you begged, tugging him down to the left. It was the same direction that you had come from on the floor above and hoped that it would lead you to a staircase or something*.

Semi went along reluctantly, flashing his light in all the cells you passed. Most were empty, besides the occasional bed or other prop. Some contained chains mounted in the wall and his eyes flashed to you.

The hallway opened up into what may have been a waiting room if most of the furniture hadn’t been utterly destroyed. As you scanned the area, there was a noise from up ahead and you jerked to a stop, scurrying back to Semi’s side. Peeking around him while he stared down the hall, you kept a tight grip on his arm, feeling the muscles flex and tense beneath your hand. A shadow moved in the light and you nearly screamed as Kuroo stepped into view, followed closely by Akaashi.

Neither carried a light and your heart leapt in your throat when you caught a momentary flash of light reflecting off of Kuroo’s eyes before it disappeared.

Still hiding behind Semi, the four of you regarded each other in silence for a moment, before Kuroo chuckled.

“Well, this is certainly convenient, though I didn’t expect you to get involved,” he said, leaning sideways against the wall. He looked as relaxed as usual while Akaashi lurked behind him, staring at you peeking around Semi’s arm. 

He held out a hand to you but you held back, suddenly unsure of Kuroo’s words. With your heart in your throat, you looked up into Semi’s relaxed, impassive face. He made no moves, just watched the other two linger in front of your only escape route.

Then he shrugged.

“Dumb luck.”

The men burst into laughter and you squeaked, taking a step back from Semi. Before you could get anywhere, his hand wrapped around your wrist, pulling you forward.

“Easy, kitten. We don’t wanna hurt you,” Kuroo said, stepping further into the room. His eyes lit up once again in the light from your flashlight, mischievous brown turning solid gold. His pupils narrowed and elongated, his smile seeming to become more sharp as he stared down at you.

You breathed in sharply, taking a step back into Semi’s chest. Regardless of whether he was in on whatever they had planned, he was the safest option as opposed to whatever the hell Kuroo was.

The grip on your wrist loosened but came to your shoulders instead, keeping you in place with a warning squeeze. You had already guessed he was tough, given he had taken the full brunt of the impact earlier, but you now suspected he wasn’t human either.

Akaashi came forward last, looking as placid and calm as ever, cold fingertips stroking down your cheek.

You shivered.

None of these men were human, if you had to hazard a guess. Staring up at them, you felt your heart drop.

“W-Where are ‘Toka and Goshiki?” you asked, and were proud that your voice barely cracked. Maybe if you reminded them people would be looking for you, they would back off, allowing you to escape.

Kuroo chuckled, flipping the zipper of your-- Semi’s-- jacket up in what would have been a cute manner under different circumstances. “Keiji here sent them looking for the others in the funhouse, but they’ll never find the doorway down here. Tendo was right, there are lots of hidden doors in this place.”

“What are you? What are you going to-- to d-do to me?” you asked quickly, wrapping your fingers around his wrist as he started to tug the zipper down. You were stalling at best, your heart thumping harshly in your chest. If there was any chance of escape, you couldn’t figure it out. You had no idea where this door was and you had the impression you wouldn’t be able to outrun them anyway.

“I don’t suppose it would hurt to tell you,” he answered, taking a step closer. You tried to shrink away, huddling down into Semi’s oversized jacket, but it only seemed to entice them. “I am a yokai, I assume you know what that is? Akaashi is your run of the mill demon.”

If that offended Akaashi, he didn’t show it, simply widening his smile and blinking slowly. His once serene blue eyes turned pitch black and when he blinked again, they were normal.

“I’m just a werewolf,” Semi said, breathing against your ear. His hands slid down, catching the zipper of his jacket between his fingers and drawing the zipper down slowly.

“W-Wait, please,” you tried, grabbing and tugging at his wrist to no avail. He was far stronger, and you were like a fly in comparison. “Please, can we just go?”

Kuroo cupped your cheek, a moderate temperature compared to the other two, and his smile seemed to soften a fraction. “No, kitten. Keiji and I have been waiting for this for far too long. The wolf probably just likes how you smell.”

You weren’t sure what that meant, but the deep, pointed inhale Semi took against your neck seemed to verify the statement. The jacket fell to the floor with barely a whisper and then your phone was placed face up on a table, beside the men’s, and the combined light filled the room. 

It felt like you couldn’t get enough air as warm hands skimmed down your stomach, stretching the soft fabric of your t-shirt out, before settling on your hips. Lips met your neck, tentative at first, trailing up to your jaw, causing you to shiver.

The heat radiating off of Semi and Kuroo was getting to you, Semi’s soft lips flitting over pleasure spots causing your back to arch. You didn’t want to like it, but when Kuroo’s hands slipped up your shirt and over your ribs, your muscles tensed in unwanted arousal. Your nipples were already peaking inside your bra, the hairs on the back of your neck raising at the first graze of teeth on your skin.

“W-Wa-ait--” you breathed and, for a moment, you thought they really would stop because they both paused.

It was over in a moment, a soft kiss pressed to your other cheek as Kuroo pushed your bra up over your tits. His hands were soft as they cupped the tender flesh, giving gentle squeezes that went straight to your core, as much as you protested. “Not gonna happen, kitten. May as well enjoy it. We’ll take good care of you.”

A new sensation joined the heat surrounding you then, Kuroo moving to the side to allow Akaashi to join in. His hands were cold compared to the other two, one on your side and one cupping your unoccupied breast. The difference was enough to make you gasp, back arching on its own into their touch, and they at least had the decency not to snicker.

“You really do smell good, princess,” Semi whispered in your ear, nipping the lobe. “I can smell everything, even how wet you’re getting for us.”

Craning your neck away from him only opened you up to another smattering of kisses and you hated that he was right. They were getting to you, their gentle touches on your body doing everything right, like they had been your lovers for years rather than men you just met today. It made it harder to think than it already was, mind still racing in a futile effort to formulate some way to escape, but even you could recognize your body giving up.

Your shirt came up and over your head, disappearing somewhere outside of your vision. There was a collective intake from the men in front of you, and Semi groaned over your shoulder.

“I knew you would be so pretty, kitten,” Kuroo cooed, palming one tit again. He relished in the way you twitched when he pinched your nipple, then he cupped both, bouncing and watching them jiggle. “Been watching you all day, we couldn’t wait to get our hands on you.”

Akaashi was the first to lean over, wrapping cool lips around one pert bud, and Kuroo stepped back to watch your teeth sink into your lip to stifle any noises.

“Feel good, princess?” Semi asked, and chuckled when you shook your head. “It will soon, then. We won’t hurt you. Just wanna make you feel good.”

The worst part was, you were beginning to enjoy it. It was so tempting to cave, to just let them have their way with you. They were gentle, surprisingly so, and it was knocking down whatever resistance you had left at an alarming rate.

Semi’s hands were almost scalding against your sides, squeezing and kneading as he suckled at your neck, feeling you whine in your throat. “There you go. Just let go.”

The clasp of your bra came loose, and you weren’t even sure who had done it, before it was slid down your arms and dumped, presumably with your shirt.

There were two sets of lips attached to each nipple, your nails digging into your palms to keep from tangling your fingers in someone’s hair but you were losing the will to fight. Your panties were embarrassingly wet, no matter how much your mind insisted you didn’t like it, and you broke your silence when cold fingers drifted down to undo the button of your jeans.

“No please,” you begged, wiggling your hips in your first real display of resistance. Hands clamped down to still them in an iron grip, and a hand clasped your jaw, forcing you to look Kuroo in the eyes.

“What wrong, kitten? You’ve been so good up til now,” he said, stroking your lower lip with his thumb. There were imprints of your teeth in the skin, and he ached to kiss you, but it would have to wait.

“I-I don’t w-want--” you stuttered, tears burning the corners of your eyes as your zipper was pulled down.

Semi interrupted you then, tilting your head just so that he could kiss the corner of your mouth, smirking. “She’s embarrassed because of how wet she is.” Dropping his voice to barely a whisper, he said, “I can smell you, princess. You want this, don’t deny it.”

Shaking your head feebly, you whined when Semi pressed his lips to your cheek, dangerously close to your lips again. It was enough to distract you from your jeans sliding down your legs, until they pooled at your ankles and Akaashi had to tug your shoes off. Your jeans hit the floor shortly afterwards, the air startlingly cool against your now bare skin only to be covered with warmth as the men caged you in again.

It started with two fleeting touches to your inner thighs, which you tried to stop by squeezing them together only for them to pried apart in an instant. Semi took the opportunity to lay another languid kiss to the corner of your mouth, tongue flicking out against your lips.

For a moment, you turned into it only to jerk away, looking in the opposite direction. You knew what they were trying to do and you wouldn’t give them the satisfaction of hearing you beg for something you didn’t want. You wondered briefly where the others were and why you could hear nothing from above, until warm hands cupped your tits again.

You bit down on your lip again when Semi circled your nipples with his thumbs, massaging your breasts as he rolled them between his fingers. It was hard to keep quiet when it felt so good, especially when Kuroo and Akaashi were teasing your inner thighs, so close your aching cunt.

Your hips rocked of their own accord, your mind too preoccupied with the warm touches on your tender nipples and stifling your noises, but all three of your attackers smirked.

“Ask, pretty girl,” Akaashi said, speaking for the first time. 

His voice combined with his fleeting, cold touch against the soaked lips of your cunt caused a gasp to break free, hips rolling up in a jerky manner against your will. Your ears burned when they laughed and your teeth sank into your lip again. It was driving you insane, they were so close but you refused to beg for it.

“Aw, did we upset you, kitten?” Kuroo cooed, placing a wet kiss against your hip. “We’re sorry. You’re just so cute we can’t help it. Come on, ask us. Ask us to touch this pretty little pussy and we’ll make it up to you.”

Another swipe across your clit timed with a tug on your nipples broke the seal a second time.

“S-Semi--”

“There she goes,” Semi whispered, tilting your head around to look at him. Tears were spilling down your cheeks as you looked up at him with wide, resigned eyes. His eyes dropped to your parted lips for a moment and you swallowed, blinking the tears away, but didn’t struggle.

The first kiss was tentative, tongue ghosting between your parted lips to test you for a reaction. You only whined into the kiss, leaning in and he delved into your mouth, tongue lapping at yours as he tasted you.

When he pulled away, you hiccupped, letting your head rest on his shoulder as you closed your eyes.

“Please, just touch me. Fuck me, do whatever. I can’t--” you whispered, thighs aching from how tense you had been for god knew how long. It was too much to hold out, not when you were so wet and aching for it anyway. They knew what they were doing, their gentle teasing and buildup working to break down any fight you had and it had worked flawlessly. 

You melted into Semi as Kuroo lifted one leg over his shoulder. Akaashi left a trail of cool kisses down your inner thigh while Kuroo kissed up the opposite one. You didn’t know whether to tremble or whine, so you did both when his nose bumped your clit, and they chuckled again.

“That wasn’t so hard, was it, pretty girl?” Akaashi asked, and you might have mistook it for affection in another situation. “Just relax.”

As if you had a choice. Hot breathe puffed across your folds, teasing just a little more until you were practically dripping on his lips. Only then did his tongue swipe across your clit, your hips jerking harshly. His hot tongue was replaced with a cold one, the two of them taking turns lapping at your clit at such a languid pace that it was more torturous than not being touched at all.

“Fuck, please, stop teasing,” you cried, voice cracking as your back arched. You were desperate at this point, willing to beg or do whatever they wanted. You weren’t getting out of it without doing so anyway, so you might as well enjoy it. “Kuroo, Akaashi, please.”

A sharp pinch to your nipples made you squeal just before Semi devoured your mouth. You could feel the aggravation in the kiss, the way his teeth clacked against yours and his tongue pressed against yours. You made muffled noises against him, one hand coming up to tangle in his hair.

At the same time, Kuroo latched onto your clit properly, and your eyes almost rolled into the back of your head as you rocked your hips against his feverish suckling. The noises he was making filled the quiet space, grunts and would-be moans that terminated against your clit as he worked to make you cum.

Your head was starting to spin from lack of oxygen and intense pleasure. Kuroo wasn’t giving you an inch and your slick hole fluttered around nothing, until something swirled around your entrance before slipping in.

You forgot about the kiss, Semi’s lips hovering against yours as you came with a cry around cold fingers. The temperature difference between Akaashi’s fingers and Kuroo’s lips was mind numbing, your eyelids flickering, trying to stay open before giving in. You didn’t bother to be quiet, letting your moans bounce off the walls. Maybe it would draw the others to you, and you could still get out of this.

Instead of withdrawing his fingers, Akaashi slipped another one in beside the first, kitten licking your still sensitive clit and listening to you whine for him to “Stop, please, too much.” He only smirked, continuing to lap until you relaxed, though the stream of noises never stopped.

There was a moment of hesitation as Kuroo stood, cocking his head in Semi’s direction. With your attention on your throbbing clit and Akaashi’s almost icy touch, you missed the way Semi beckoned to him. Their lips met briefly, allowing Semi to get a taste of you on his lips before Semi dragged him into a deeper one, tongues meeting in a heated tangle. Both men were hard, Semi grinding his clothed erection against the cheek of your ass, the chafing fabric unnoticed against your soft skin.

You squirmed against him when Akaashi crooked his fingers just right inside you, grazing over the swollen sweet spot inside you again and again until you were on the verge of another orgasm. It seemed like no matter how long his fingers stayed inside you, they never heated up. You weren’t even sure if the cold of his tongue flicking over your clit was pleasurable or not but it was such constant pressure that you hurtled towards your second orgasm. Kuroo was quick to stifle it, delving into your mouth for you to taste what remained of you on his tongue.

You came with a cry, convulsing around Akaashi’s fingers for a second time so hard you became light headed. He continued to pet that spot inside you until you were squirming to get away, tugging roughly at his hair.

Your legs shook when he let you down, only Semi’s strong grip keeping you upright. The sound of belt buckles clanging brought you down quickly, and trepidation set your heart racing again. There was no stopping it, but you found yourself trying to back up anyway. 

“Ah,” Kuroo tutted, taking you from Semi’s arm and kissing the crown of your head like he was comforting you. “Don’t start that. We aren’t going to hurt you, kitten.”

No, they certainly hadn’t yet, and you had no choice but to trust his words. Something hard pressed against your ass, hotter even than the rest of Semi. You instinctively jerked away, pressing into Kuroo only to feel something slip between your thighs.

“Excited, aren’t we?” Kuroo drawled, and you could feel the condescension dripping off of him. Semi pressed to your back again, shielding you from the cold, while Kuroo asked, “How are we gonna take her? Semi, you kinda threw a wrench in things, can’t lie.”

Semi shrugged against your back, letting his cock settle between your thighs. You whined, jerking your hips instinctively away from the heat against your folds, but it only served to make him grind into you.

“I want this sweet cunt,” Semi snarled, cupping your jaw in a tight grip and tilting your head away, baring your throat to him. He licked a stripe from your shoulder to just beneath your ear before kissing the soft skin, and you shivered at the possessiveness in his tone.

“Alright, wolfboy smells a mate,” Kuroo said, rolling his eyes. “Akaashi?”

The last of the trio stepped forward again, skimming his fingers down your cheek before leaning in to steal a kiss. “I’m okay with whatever you want, Kuroo. Just wanna feel her around me.”

There was something dark in his eyes that belied his passive words. He was deferring to Kuroo to get things moving, you were almost sure. Like the rest of him, his cock was cool against your thigh, more like a glass dildo you kept at home than a cock attached to a man.

“That makes things easy then,” Kuroo said, clapping his hands and giving you that mischievous smile. If you didn’t know any better-- you didn’t-- you would say his teeth were a little sharper, the canines more pronounced than before. His eyes certainly hadn’t changed, maintaining that almost glowing golden color this whole time. “Semi, lay on the couch. Keiji, you can take her from behind. I want her mouth.”

He sounded like he was giving out instructions to his employees rather than fucking a very reluctant person, but the other two followed his instructions without question. It was an odd sensation, to be talked about as if you weren’t there, as if you had no say over what was happening to you.

Not that you did.

It wasn’t until you were straddling Semi that you realized something. In addition to being hotter than average, he was larger than average, peeking out from between your folds to drip precum just below his bellybutton. The way your stomach swooped made you nauseous and tears fell down your cheeks all over again.

“What’s wrong, princess?” he asked, wiping them away as best he could. You wouldn’t be fooled by the concern in his tone; he wouldn’t stop anyway.

You turned your face away only to jump when a finger slipped your cunt, cool to the touch, followed by a second, only to be removed a second later. They moved instead to your slick rear entrance, circling and massaging until it gave way, eased by your previous orgasms. You fell forward, bracing yourself over Semi, who held your rocking hips still. Two fingers filled you, the stretch no more than a sting but it was uncomfortable nonetheless when you didn’t want it.

Akaashi’s other hand came down, long fingers wrapping around your throat just beneath your chin, pulling you back up to your knees. “Good girl,” he whispered in your ear before forcing your head around so he could capture your lips.

They parted naturally when his tongue glided across them, allowing him access without thought. You couldn’t place his taste; it was like he’d just eaten ice before kissing you, and you moaned into it.

Kuroo, who until then had been content to watch, groaned and stood from the dilapidated chair he had been lounging in. One hand wrapped around your wrist, moving your hand to wrap around his aching cock, desperate for some kind of relief. Your palm was soft against him, and he spit on it twice for good measure before allowing you to curl your fingers around him again. They did so automatically, squeezing tight and he hissed through gritted teeth, slit pupils narrowing further as he watched Akaashi’s tongue delve into your mouth like he wanted his cock to.

All the while, Semi was forcing you to slide along his shaft, slow, calculated moves designed to drag your clit back and forth against him. He could feel you trembling above him, your hands curled into fists against his chest, hips moving with his hands. You dripped down his cock, covering him in your slick and he almost growled at the heady scent. Unlike the other two, he could smell how bad you wanted it and it was driving him wild.

“Akaashi, hurry up,” he snapped, digging his nails into your soft hips hard enough to leave marks if he wasn’t careful.

Akaashi hummed in disapproval, pulling from your mouth to stare impassively at the werewolf. “I don’t want to hurt her, Semi.”

Yet, he withdrew his fingers and you whined at the loss.

“Finally,” Semi hissed, helping Akaashi lift you up so he could slick his cock up against your cunt before settling against your rear hole. “You go first.”

Your toes curled tight enough to cramp as Akaashi gave you a warning nudge before splitting you open. Your jaw dropped, eyes widening as you stared up into the cobwebbed ceiling, waiting for him to bottom out. Thighs trembling in Semi’s hold, you fell back against Akaashi’s chest as his hips met your ass.

“Don’t worry, pretty girl,” he whispered, leaving cool kisses along your shoulder and neck. Goosebumps were raising up your arms and back, and he would have felt bad if you weren’t squeezing around his cock so tight while Semi positioned himself at your dripping hole.

You couldn’t decide if you really wanted two cocks, weren’t sure if you could even take two, but Semi was stretching you so wide you were crying out broken babbles none of them could make out as he seated you flush against his hips. You twitched above him, fluttered around him, squeezed rhythmically while you tried weakly to get away.

The sensation of fullness was one you had never experienced before. Even just Semi’s cock was more than you had ever taken, let alone Akaashi’s cock in your inexperienced asshole. You blinked rapidly, unable to decide if you liked it or not before a hand wound in your hair and you were pulled down. 

Kuroo’s cock bobbed in your face and your jaw dropped automatically, allowing him to smear precum around your lips. He was more salty than bitter as he slipped into your mouth, stuffing himself as far as he could before you started gagging. Pulling back, he gave you a small reprieve to gasp for air before filling your mouth again. There was no fighting his thrusts, you had to force your throat to relax or choke. A mix of drool and tears spilled down your chin as a thick vein dragged against your tongue, dripping off to the floor. In the back of your foggy mind you were disgusted.

When they felt you relax around Kuroo’s cock, his hips moving in a steady rhythm to fuck your throat, Akaashi and Semi moved. 

You spasmed around Kuroo when Semi lifted you up and dropped you back down, your hips meeting with a wet slap, his cock stifling your scream. Akaashi pulled out then, a little more careful as he stuffed himself back in, but the constant push and pull of their hips soon spread fire through your body. Kuroo was heavy on your tongue, Semi and Akaashi bumping and grinding against each other through the thin wall separating your cunt and ass, Semi’s curls stimulating your throbbing, sensitive clit.

You couldn’t fathom how you were careening towards a third orgasm, but Semi’s cock was so thick he couldn’t help but drag along the swollen, gummy sweet spot inside you. Akaashi’s low, pleasured moans in your ear gave you a vague sense of pride. These gorgeous men wanted you, were moaning for you. 

It was enough to make you forget this wasn’t right.

Kuroo thought you were moaning, your throat vibrating around his cock as he facefucked you with abandon. The tight sleeve of your throat only grew tighter when Akaashi’s hand slipped between your legs to pet your clit and Kuroo grunted.

“Keep that up, kitten, and you’re gonna make me cum,” he said, holding your nose down in his curls for a few seconds just to feel you spasm around him.

Semi and Akaashi felt the benefits of it, both your holes clenching around them as you gagged. Semi took the opportunity to grind deep inside you, rolling his hips up so that he pushed against your cervix.

Your thighs trembled around him, a squeal stifled around Kuroo’s cock as you came hard, jerking in Semi’s hold. He snarled, bouncing you on his cock with abandon as Akaashi slammed into you, spreading your clenching hole without care as he moaned.

Kuroo grunted, pumping into your mouth a few more times before pressing your nose into his pelvis and cumming, his lips parted in an ‘o’ and his head tipping back. You had no choice but to swallow until he pulled out and spilled the remnant all over your face, smirking as it mixed with your tears and drool to drip off your chin.

Semi’s back arched off the couch, strong hands pulling you down to sit flush with his hips as he spilled inside you. Your eyes grew wide at the intense heat filling your womb, the warmth rushing up through you at the same time Akaashi came in your ass. Goosebumps erupted across your skin as his cum offset the heat of Semi’s, and your vision swam for a moment from overstimulation.

Semi caught you as you collapsed forward, cradling you to his chest regardless of the mess, petting your hair. 

Akaashi slipped out of you, sharing a small smirk with Kuroo as he sought out your clothes.

“Give me my shirt,” Semi said, catching it from the air when Akaashi threw it. He forced you to sit up, watching you sway with a twisted sense of pride, and wiped the mess from your face. Akaashi and Kuroo took you from there, helping you to dress while you leaned against them, unable to keep from snickering at the state they’d left you in.

“Can you walk, kitten?” Kuroo asked, setting his hands on your shoulders. “Or do you need someone to carry you?”

“I-I can w-walk,” you stuttered, throat raspy. You frowned and grabbed it, swallowing with a wince.

“Good girl,” Kuroo said, dropping a kiss on your lips and smirked when you leaned after him as he pulled away. “We don’t need to worry about you telling anyone, do we?”

Shaking your head, you allowed Semi to wrap an arm around your shoulders, keeping you close to bathe in his warmth as Kuroo led the way up the hidden stairs a little ways down the hall they had been blocking earlier. At the top of the stairs, you could hear voices calling your names and perked up, trying to follow the echoes in the darkness.

“This way,” Kuroo said, leading the way though there wasn’t a speck of light in sight. Your own phone was tucked safely in the pocket of Semi’s jacket, which he had taken back. “Keiji, give me your phone. Appearances.”

Right, couldn’t let the humans know.

Everyone crowded around you, throwing questions all at once, until Shirabu lost his temper. He insisted on looking you and Semi over, just to determine for sure nothing was the matter. 

He seemed a little concerned by how out of it you were, and asked if you hit your head.

Three sets of eyes landed on you, all carrying a different weight as they waited for you to speak.

“Just tired, Shirabu,” you murmured, hiding your face in Semi’s side. “It took ages for them to find us. Can we go home now?”

The tension eased, though you kept your face hidden, allowing him to guide you blindly down the hallway.

It was even colder outside than earlier, and Kuroo took over the spot on your other side, gently shooing Yachi towards the other. She had insisted on keeping you company, watching you with wide, worried eyes while Akaashi and Kuroo whispered together behind her.

Even now, she watched the way the three men hovered around you with curious concern. They treated you like a precious object-- or a possession that needed to be protected.

You nodded in response to something Kuroo said, trying-- if possible-- to curl even closer into Semi. Akaashi hovered in the background, pretty face as impassive as ever until he caught Yachi looking at him.

His lips curled up in a smile, his face softening ever so slightly, and she relaxed. Whatever had happened to you down there, it seemed to spark something in the three men.

Whatever it was, it couldn’t have been that bad.