#his reading list always shows up on the albums and I like that about Muse | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

mypersonmyg · 4 years ago

Text

Tebori Tapioca | JJK

**beautiful banner made by @monvante <3

pairing: Jeongguk x reader

genre: fluff, strangers to lovers, love at first sight, tattoo au, tea shop au

wc: 15k

warnings: language, slow burn???

summary: a shining beacon in a sea of monotony OR you just might believe in love at first sight

a/n: hi friends, umm so yea this is a fic i’ve been cooking up for a while and as seems to happen with most of my fics there’s definitely room for more but i didn’t wanna go overboard because the last time i did no one read womp womp...

ANYWHO there’s still very much room for this universe to grow whether it be drabbles, smaller oneshots or whatever so if you have requests pls send them !! for this au or any others

honorary tag: @gukssunshine

masterlist

Sunlight filters through an open storefront, natural light shading the room in incandescent glow, the honk of horns just overstating the chirp of the birds perched in overarching trees that line the street. Lights are still lit, strung throughout branches despite the hour slowly inching toward noon.

Your pencil taps a worn pad, the hundredth rotation of the dormant rectangle of sheets providing no more inspiration than ninety-nine and below. You shove the contents along a desk littered in your crumpled defeat, legs kicking to the wooden surface with comforting intent.

It’s not unusual, the stray of your eyes to the shop just a few buildings from the florist decorating the opposing side of the street. A work in progress, a work almost in completion. It’s become a game, the guessing of its contents, the colorful display before it’s displayed intriguing to many passersby. You’re close to pondering a new theory when Jimin interrupts with his entrance from the back, reciting safety to Namjoon’s latest masterpiece.

He whistles an impressive tune following the departure of a satisfied client, rounding his occupied desk and knocking your feet from his cluttered surface. You don’t have time for the countered glare of offense before his words are zeroed in as if he’s been waiting to direct them long before now when your guard is readily disarmed. “You have an office for a reason, why do you always have to sit at my desk.”

“It’s a nice view.”

“I’ll admit that my delicate features leave nothing to the imagination, but I’m tired of cleaning up after you.” His words are emphasized by his hand’s routine swipe, piles of paper tumbling to the can beside him in rapid succession. Your eyes roll, Jimin’s fingers already beginning to type away on his desktop while your pupils track the delicate arch of his digits and your ears listen to the satisfying click of keys. The consideration of locking yourself away in your office trapezes along the wide expanse of your mind, but before it’s made up Jimin is speaking again, this time with an air of factual superiority. “A tea shop.”

“Hmm?”

“The shop down the street, it’s a tea shop.”

“You sound pretty confident,” You hum, eyes darting to the window, turquoise staring back in the fashion of awnings and fresh paint bordering a wooden frame. The sleeves of your sweater bite at your wrist in comforting fuzz, a slight itch along the skin to pull you from quaint interest. “What makes you so sure?”

“Just a feeling, it’s got that certain ambiance, you know?” Jimin’s hands wave with the impression of the ambiance so to speak, his eyes squinted in that way you so adore. The thought crosses your mind on many occasions, to compliment his subtle beauty, but the knowledge of his playfully arrogant counter always draws you from speech.

“Or because we ran into the owner on our way in this morning,” Namjoon chirps in kind, strolling to the lobby, his own pad in hand. He neatly tosses it to the desk, fingers skimming through unkempt hair. “Nice guy, said he might drop in for a consultation sometime.”

“Consultation? Sounds big,” You muse, hand finding your abandoned pencil to drag faint strokes along your page, though even the slight draw brings grimace to your features, dulled in the shadow of your palm pressed to your forehead, easily nudging wisps of loose hair. Namjoon shrugs, a non-committal range of motion, his neck craning over your shoulder to sneak a peek at your lack of a work of art.

He doesn’t speak on it, simply taking in the unfinished strokes, presumably in an attempt to reassure you in the midst of inspiration long lost. You're prepared to assure him that there’s no need for forced encouragement, but he moves on, collapsing onto near plush without a word.

“Says he’s been thinking about it for a while so I told him we could help him out. He also invited us to his opening, said he'd save some tea for us if we’re busy.” Lips pull back, dimples accenting Namjoon’s heavy cheeks.

You’re unsurprised by his amicable tale, recalling your fresh steps into this very shop just a few years prior. Your body was bare of ink and your arms bore only a flimsy book with hopeful sketches. He’d taken in your wide eyed glance and the disappearance of your bottom lip to the gnawing confines of your teeth. His towering height and newly trimmed hair taunting you within the daunting shadow that filled your frame through the doorway.

You chuckle at past memories, wondering how you could ever fear the gentle giant, his lips pulling into ready grin as he showed you to the very desk before you now.

“What’s so funny?” Namjoon calls to you, Jimin halting in his current endeavor to glance the smirk stretching your cheek.

“Nothing, just thinking. Was that your last client for the day?” You grab for the sign-in ledger, finger trailing the thick page, pinky tugging at the pulled edge of a worn corner. Your smirk flips to a frown poorly withheld, the page filled with Namjoon only reminding you that your own supplies need only be sanitized to prevent the collection of dust.

“Yeah, I figured we’d just close shop early today.” Jimin swipes the ledger with a tisk in your direction, not blind to silent thoughts.

“It’s noon, what if someone wants a walk-in?” Your gaze slides to the clock, hands ticking slowly along the round wall piece. It’s not unreasonable to assume someone will come in seeking art of the bodily variety, and your hands itch to prove your worth, even if it lies within an album long binded.

“Then I’m sure they’ll still want it tomorrow.” Namjoon shrugs, his hands folding over his chest forcing the bulge of recently buffed arms. You almost make a joke about the possible tear of the t-shirt hugging his frame, but refrain out of refusal to partake in the pursuance of sure to follow antics. “Besides, it’ll give you more time to work on that.”

You follow the tilt of Namjoon’s hair, long grown out from his routine refusal to take time from his day to get a trim. You often joke that he’ll be gallivanting with a tail soon enough, his thick locks nearly shoulder length as it stands. He often finds himself shaking it from his peripheral with the wrong angling of his head. He motions to your barely done sketch, the page glaring at you with a mocking disgust.

“Yeah, that’s what I’m gonna do.” You drip sarcasm, pad tossed to your bag and jacket jerked to waiting arms.

~*~

Off-white trim borders the wall of a shop nearly complete, Jeongguk checks and double checks a list stored in the confines of his mental. Aside from constant fear of the opening of doors without the steady flood of patrons he’s eager for business, hard work finally paying its due.

He’s only in for the morning, the steady tick of his wrist a reminder to snap from his obsessive habit, sure that he’ll receive word from Taehyung that he's on his way to drag him from the building. His grin rivals the glare of the sun as his eyes travel a building come together. His hand falls to his arm in dramatic pinch to ensure that his eyes aren’t filled with hopeful deceit.

It fits, he thinks, stepping out onto the walk, key slotting into the door to ensure security. His shop melds perfectly with the heavily lined street, animated tapioca unfinished in the window somehow making sense with the neighboring extravagance of bloom at the near florist and the samples of ink from the tattoo shop across the way. Even the simple thrift shop with it’s objects of interest decorating the window compliments his simple display.

Opportunity hasn’t struck to visit his new neighbors, though he did stumble into a chunk of the owners of one of the shops. He found surprise in the ease with which conversation flowed, his mouth like the babble of a brooke despite the nerves that skipped like pebbles in his stomach and his heart that beat a million miles a minute following their friendly departure.

In his stupor he nearly misses the float of voices a ways down the quietly milling street, but the recognition of a melodic tone draws his gaze.

“I’ll take you for ice cream.” Jeongguk recognizes the voice that seeks to entice as Jimin, though he doesn’t recognize you.

“I’m not a child you know.” Your statement is grumbled, the words echoing that of a childlike pout. Jeongguk can see the movement of your arms as they reach to a playful shove, the rhythmic shift of Jimin’s feet looking routine even from a distance. You choose not to acknowledge Jimin’s coo, his fingers poking at your protruding cheek as if to say Oh but aren’t you?

Jeongguk watches with interest and the initiative to work up the courage to bring acknowledgement to his presence and perhaps introduction to who he expects is the other third of the tattoo shop. You and Jimin are too caught in bickering to notice the figure just feet away, your fingers pinching Jimin’s nose with a countering taunt.

“Can’t I just treat you to a nice frozen treat? I don’t recall that being a crime, but please enlighten me.” You pinch the bridge of your own nose, the scent of freshly packed soil wafting from neatly situated pots.

You spot the poke of pink from one of the tall and timid plants, though you imagine the fragile nature is only by way of visual, Yoongi always diligent with his seedling evolved friends. You make note to beg him to allow the purchase of a precarious plant, an act of teasing to stem from your track record, the memory of shriveled begonias bringing even your shoulders to lift in cringe.

“Are you still talking?” Your gaze shifts back to Jimin, his flow not conscious to your unconscious senses.

“So rude, you should be thanking me for the extra time off.”

“As if I need more time off, but fine, I suppose I can let you treat me as an apology for your ratty transgressions.” You tut. Were your ears peaked and footing less strayed you would’ve noted the distant chuckle of Jeongguk, still standing dormant outside of a dimmed shop.

His thoughts of hurried introduction came to halt with his notice of you. Your voice held a playful jab when you spoke, Jimin’s reactions only animated enough to draw slight attention from your raised tone. Despite your fussing dialogue, your posture was slouched just a tad and your hands fisted into snug jacket sleeves to mimic paws. Jeongguk decides he’d be hard pressed not to be endeared by you in the slightest.

“Wow, I thought I was gonna have to come here and drag you out by the ears.” Hands clap Jeongguk’s shoulders, Taehyung rounding his frame, grin gentle as he regards with relief. “I swear you’d probably live here if I didn’t keep you at bay. What are you--oh she’s pretty.”

The two watch your retreat, your hand easily clasping Jimin's, the swing of connected wrists appearing natural with your stride through the afternoon chill. Jeongguk ignores the flare of his cheeks at the notion of exposure, thankful that Taehyung doesn’t make a show of his ogling.

“Yeah, looks like she’s taken though...you wanna get ice cream?” Taehyung scrunches his nose, wind kissed cheeks held between gloved palms. His scoff is inward, Jeongguk’s suggestion appearing nothing short of ridiculous as the two are swept by a wind that’s particularly biting. While Taehyung shivers, Jeongguk doesn’t appear to mind, hands shoved in his pockets, heels rocking along cracked concrete.

“Do I look like I want to get ice cream? It’s freezing out here and not everyone radiates the warmth of a furnace.”

“Well unlike you, not everyone is so dramatic.”

“Whatever, just get some when we get home.” Taehyung lightly shoves, legs turning in the direction of his car, parked on asphalt, freshly coated by summer’s end.

Jeongguk stares after the winded trail of a billowing pea, your bobbing figure rounding a corner and straying from widened eyes. He sucks through clenched teeth, opportunities knock having been missed at the hands of Taehyung. The clench of fists in pockets goes unnoticed as he rounds on planted heels and makes his way to the car, Taehyung happily staring from the passenger seat waiting with a grin dripping sincerity.

“You definitely owe me for this.”

~*~

You twitch along with the consistent drip of a leaky faucet, the tap of digits on worn ceramic offering a release to limbs without proper use. The biting chill in your toes is only minutely cured by the pilling of four blankets, barely thick enough to rival the wool knit socks Hoseok gifted you last christmas.

You find pause in the sun setting from the window, dim lighting pouring through weak curtains. Your tongue prods at the confines of your mouth, frosted by forced treat and abandoned with the recommendation of a mug of hot cocoa which now rests lukewarm in your clenching palms.

You force your mind to yield, racing in a direction opposite the self destructive course that usually remains dormant until you lay to rest for the evening. Hands numbed by the interference of a numbing chill met with the warmth of a mostly empty mug nearly spilling when your right palm jumps in the direction of your phone, perched on an end table composed of chipping wood and stains too set to resemble anything but a dark pool, a picture puddle fit for galoshes in adolescence.

You wonder if Yoongi’s taken his plants in, the set of cold not nearly the condition for any pending life surely. Though you quickly pull back, recalling a conversation following another mishap, your plant lying limp before the attentive florist, his cheeks rosy from the heat lamps and the temperature set to ensure maximum growth year round. It was with passion that he waxed about the difference between certain plants and the amazing circumstances of their survival.

It was with half amused grin, your head lopsided along the freshly painted door frame that he assured you that if a plant can survive the harsh conditions of the season of cool there was surely one meant to survive you.

You glance to the succulent placed on the sill overlooking your sink. You had been indignant at Yoongi’s insistence that you take it, almost begging that he give you one of the smiling pink numbers reflecting in the window rather than the less impressive green poking from the dirt of a tiny hand painted pot. Yoongi’s reaction was much the same, innocence painting his rose blushed cheeks as he explained the beauty of every plant, sure to continue on until you gently removed the pot from his fingers.

Now the once shy note of green was large enough to cover your palm, a bright spot in the dark of your apartment, falling apart at the hands of purposeful ignorance from an absent landlord.

A sharp tap against your front door draws your gaze, pointed as if to break the barrier of solid wood. You don’t notice the spill of your drink until warmth slips through your sweater, arm jerk sending the mug careening to shatter. The pieces decorate the floor with a colorful tap to pair with the running of dark liquid along the hardwood.

“Shit.” Words muttered in haste, one of many blankets piled in swaddle is heaved to the floor, your legs lifting you from the chair and gently to clothed knees. Cocooning the glass in the thick material you stand to full height when another tap draws you. Your hands tug at your sweater, the seep of the liquid already beginning to set in and your skin grows irritated from the unwanted intrusion. “Coming!”

You glance to the spot where chocolate dances along the edges of your braided rug, the centerpiece itching to soak up what it can manage of the chocolatey drink, already dreading the work of scrubbing to prevent permanent damage. Making your way to the door your feet stride in a half walk half slide along hardwood, tripping up due to the soiled bits of fabric sticking to your feet and resisting a usually easy trek along the hardwood. The pull of the door is a surprise, an unfamiliar face staring back at you with a geometrically flattering smile.

“Hello…” Your words are drawn and rasped, a mixture of the lack of dialogue and settling curiosity.

“Hi, I’m Taehyung.” There’s no deterrence from Taehyung at your lack of reciprocated enthusiasm, just the shake of locks, shaggy and shielding his eyes that appear to glisten in the flicker of the hall lights. His eyes brighten in recognition, though you can’t seem to separate his stare from the reflection of his shocking irises and simply accept his hand as it slowly extends.

“Y/n. Is there something I can help you with?” You attempt a glance around his ever present frame in hope for an explanation, but the notion is non-existent so you wait as he gathers his own. You don’t miss the wandering of his eyes to the open of your apartment but don’t call him on it, an entrance composed of nothing more than a table and a crooked portrait gifted by Jin. You can hear his distant cackles as he positioned it just perfectly before the door.

“Actually I was gonna ask you how to work the heat in this place, but you look about as warm as me so…” He shifts on his heels unsure, taking in your heavily bundled appearance.

You tug once more at your stained sweater, your face heating with recollection of the soiled garment still clinging to you, now with more fervor from the added moisture. Your thick socks are layered over a pair only slightly less so and your legs appear heavily padded under two pairs of dense sweats. “You must be new here.”

Taehyung shrugs, half a step taken in retreat. He tilts his head just so, gesturing to the vacant hall, a door half ajar allowing the flood of light to illuminate the peel of ancient wallpaper. Not for the first time you wish you’d taken Jimin up on his spare room. “Yeah, just officially moved in today. We’re down the hall, heard the apartment’s been vacant for a while and it seemed nice enough.”

“But no one told you that the heat only works correctly on a good day, sounds about right.”

“And our shower--”

“Leaks?” You finish, the distant drip from your kitchen just audible over your speech. Your thumb pushes against the bow of your pursed lips, teeth grabbing hold of roughened skin whilst you watch the turn of cogs tumbling before you.

“Yeah...should I call the landlord?” His brows knit at your nonchalance, thumb jerking to his apartment. You almost chuckle, covering your outburst with a quick tilt of your head. The simplicity of the suggestion seems only to add to the hilarity of the situation.

“Sure, but I’d recommend investing in a space heater and keeping a couple of tools handy. I’m not wearing four layers to make a fashion statement.” Your fingers drum along the frame of your door, the gentle tap carrying between you in soft silence. “Well...welcome to the building and sorry to be the bearer of bad news.”

“Guess someone had to be,” His throat clears in chuckle, hand tugging at the sleeve of his hoodie, the strings hanging lopsided where his hood lay half scrunched at the base of his neck. His thumb lifts to trace the corner of his mouth, shifted in that same grin that greeted you minutes prior, though this time your return is swift and without the same haze that accompanied his unfamiliar presence. “Thank you. I appreciate your help.”

Taehyung turns on his heel at the pace of the gears turning in his brain, swift stride carrying him back to his door, yours clicking shut along the shells of his ears. He pushes into his residence, door squeaking on hinges as it closes in his wake. Straight for the living room he makes haste with lengthy stride, spotting Jeongguk who swallows the couch with his body, spread as much as the lengthened cushion will allow. He peeks from his curtain of hair, dangling at the angle of his head, blinking with the poke of a follicle gently prodding his pupil.

“So?” He pushes up to a sit, nearly knocking his phone from the arm where it’s perched without care. His shoulders shake from the mix of cold and anticipation, mistaking the grin that Taehyung sports as a triumphant mission.

“Oh this place is spectacularly shitty, my friend. Looks like we’ll be snuggling like penguins if we wanna get warm tonight.” As if to punctuate his vivid explanation, Taehyung slides dangerously close to where Jeongguk remains sitting, legs brushing as he sinks into the already heated seat.

Jeongguk nudges to the sharp of Taehyung’s shoulder, encouraging him further inward with a defeated groan. He’s sure he catches the scent of something similar to carpet that’s been left to mildew, but he attributes it to imagination. Somehow this very apartment seemed a saving grace just a month ago. “I knew we should’ve splurged on that loft. Why are you smiling?”

“Hm, so that girl that you were staring at earlier, you know her?” Taehyung doesn’t shy from his urge to throw himself over Jeongguk’s lap, ignoring the squint scrutiny from above. He pokes at the underside of Jeongguk’s chin, teasing a reaction from him, grimace evident from the suction of his cheeks.

“Not exactly, I know the guy she was with though. They own the tattoo shop, why?” Taehyung braces his head with one hand, the other grabbing hold of the string dangling from his clothes, rolling the aglet between agile fingers. He ponders the thought of revealing that just beyond moth eaten wallpaper and the cracks of a concrete hall you await just a few doors down.

“Just a question. You didn’t think I would just leave it, did you?” Jeongguk’s nose scrunches because he did in fact find that avenue favorable among the chosen. Taehyung pats his muscled thigh with a patronizing shake of the head, hair already tangling with the push of his heavy skull to Jeongguk’s tough jeans.

“So what, she’s cute, not like I know anything about her. I’m more concerned with making it through the night without contracting pneumonia or risking the complete freeze of my limbs.”

The two seem to scoot closer at the thought, Taehyung now pushed against Jeongguk’s abdomen. They paint quite a picture on their second hand furniture, couch in need of stitching at the seams and the questionable stain that inhabited it upon arrival nipping at the press of Taehyung’s socked feet into the cushion.

Fatigue abandoned the task of unloading boxes that litter the expanse of open flooring and leftover furniture. Their energy fueled endeavor long forgotten along with the memory of comforting warmth. They both ponder the idea of retreating to respective rooms, but find it would be a miracle if they could manage to pull themselves from half comfort, abandoning the hope of body heat against the chill of the shared space.

Audible groan travels the four walls when a gentle fist beats against the door. Taehyung shoves at Jeongguk’s shoulder, a silent appeal to the younger to make sacrifice and leave their cocooned warmth. Jeongguk won’t be swayed, his arms easily finding the weight of Taehyung’s side and nudging enough to send him careening to the floor with a resounding thud.

Grumbles and groans of the incoherent leave Taehyung’s mouth, amused giggles falling from Jeongguk whose legs are now pulled to drink in the heat left behind. Taehyung stops for a moment, thinking that his timely trek was wasted, opposing party’s fist meeting wood no more. He gently opens the door, head ducking around the corner, foot stepping out only to stub into something surely placed for such an occasion as his physical reckoning.

He foregoes subtly, mouth unhinging and curses falling akin to rocks from a cliff side, the echo bouncing against concrete and soaking into the slips and edges of the silent walls. Jeongguk ambles around the corner with concern etched features, the draw of his eyes landing on his roommate, leg at an angle and clutched whilst he leans against the doorframe.

Jeongguk squeezes past, kneeling to pluck the sticky posted from the top of what appears to be a space heater. His eyes scan the crisp note, glancing down the hall with the knowledge that the perpetrator is surely long gone. “Dude, you good?”

“Stubbed my fucking toe,” Taehyung strains. Jeongguk let’s him sulk, hiding a purposeful grin from the dramatist leaning over him. “What is that anyways.”

“Space heater.” He passes the note, Taehyung scans it quickly with a hum. He doesn’t miss the look he’s receiving from Jeongguk, aware of the name scribbled along the tiny parchment. “Was nice of them. What did you say anyways?”

“Nothing really, guess I’m just a natural charmer.”

~*~

“Will you tell her that she should just move in with me like I suggested in the first place?” Jimin snags on the thick of Namjoon’s t-shirt, pulling him from his task, resituating his glasses along his face rather than the slide to the tip of his nose that seemed a regular occurance. You choose to ignore the commotion, back to sweeping dust and scattered leaves from the entrance of the shop.

Your living situation, less than ideal, often leads you to Jimin’s door, his spare room rather drenched in your deposited belongings. It’s his futile mission to persuade you to trade up from your desolate one bedroom with it’s desperate calling for tlc and take permanent residence in his humble abode just uptown.

It’s foolish not to consider, but you always find the scrape of your teeth roughening the budded surface of your tongue when he turns to you with his grin of sweet saccharine nearly once a week. You don’t know what it is about the cracks that seem to shimmy further up the walls with each passing minute or the breaks in the tile that beg an earthquake decades off, but you aren’t quite ready to part with it.

“If you want me to stop coming over just say so,” You huff, fully aware that’s not the case but sure it’ll throw Jimin for a curve with enough distance to keep him at bay.

He sputters, releasing Namjoon with a gentle shove, “That’s not it and you know it! I just don’t see why you stay there, it’s so...broken.”

“I’ll have you know that I-”

“Have lived there since you came here blah blah blah, we know. Oh hey, a customer! Would you look at that,” Jimin’s over enthused response following a set of feet flooding through draws your next words to thin air, replaced with a well meaning grin. His perked posture slumps when he realizes that it is not in fact a patron looking to empty their wallet. “Oh, it’s just Hobi-hyung.”

“Thanks for the sunshine,” Hoseok counters, elbows covered with a patched overcoat resting along the edge of Jimin’s desk. Though his words hold a tinge of sarcasm, he’s all smiles as he regards you. Much like Namjoon he sports his frames today, wide and rectangular perched along the bridge of his nose. From the opening of his coat you smirk at the peak of a bright yellow sweater, an animation practically dancing along the expanse of his chest.

“Guess it’s a good thing that’s your job,” Namjoon pats him on his way to his office, returning with a box overflowing with garments and books. It’s not unusual that the two of them exchange goods, Hoseok’s thrift always looking for ways to fill the shelf.

It surprised you in the beginning, the flow of people who seemed to always leave his shop holding something to their chest like it was the world stuffed into a novelty bag. That was before Hoseok insisted that you visit yourself, sure you’d find something of interest. He wasn’t perturbed by skepticism, it only seemed to fuel the glint of a thousand galaxies that flared in his concentrated stare.

You’d ambled the lot for a good thirty minutes, fingers gliding along shelves so sturdy it came as a shock that he installed them himself, the wiggle of his elongated fingers when you recited the thought still fresh. It was the belief of Hoseok, in his own words, that there was a magic in places like his. A magnetic pull that would lead you to just the thing you need, often times things he himself didn’t even know he possessed.

“The rest is all in good fun,” He’d finished with that smile that rivaled the shine of the largest star glistening from above.

Your magic was nestled in the thick of it all, buried beneath someone else’s waiting fortune. It was the far corner that drew you, something about it just a shade darker than the rest of the large room. You’re unsure what possessed you, ignoring the insistence of magic cycling through the heavy air conditioning as you pillage through a pile of neatly folded quilts and the random placement of a busted stereo.

“Find something?” Hoseok appeared, head resting just over your shoulder. Your crouch betrayed you and were it not for quick reflexes and a helping hand the bust of your ass was sure to find the floor. Hoseok stood with a pool of change shaking in his palm and his neat smile waiting for you to putter around with your find.

“It’s just a necklace, nothing special.”

“Still, take it, you never know.” He was insistent that you leave with the silver chain, an onyx pendant dangling from the end and even more so that, rather than pay him, you admit that there’s something in the air. You agreed, but your reluctance was only truly squashed when you found yourself adorning the necklace more than your usual jewelry reserved for occasion.

“Hey, did you guys hear about the tea shop opening up?” Hoseok plants himself on Jimin’s desk, ignoring the playful glare burning a hole in his side. Namjoon rests the box on the ground next to him with a grunt, clear on Hoseok’s intention to linger as long as time will allow rather than collecting his treasure and hurrying back to his own place of work.

“Jimin and I met the owner yesterday, he seems like a really nice guy.” Namjoon fills before Jimin has the chance to allow his jaw to unhinge, no doubt planning to flaunt his basic knowledge like privileged information.

“That’s nice. Rumor has it he specializes in boba.” You would chuckle were it not for the wild look in Hoseok’s eyes, his hands painting imaginary rainbow before slotting through the pockets of his coat. His feet steadily tap tap against the tile, the gentle nod of his head not at all unusual but nonetheless intriguing. “It’ll be so nice not having to drive a town over just to have a nice tapioca pearl.”

“You know they sell those, you could make your own.” Your words are all but lost on the eccentric businessman, his tactic to avoid information displeasing to his interests taking full effect. His body angles, half hiding a chuckling Jimin from your view. Sliding the broom to the near closet, not unaware of leaves sadly crumpled against the tile from Hoseok’s timely entrance, but not bothered enough to scoop them into the waiting bin, you make haste to your office slipping between the door slightly ajar. “Right. Well I’m gonna go try to get some work done.”

You release a stuttered breath upon the gentle click of your door, mumbled dialogue just barely pushing through the thick wood. Air puffs your cheeks in half contemplation, silence stealing the inspiration that seemed to dance before you, brain now only half awake as time seems to dwindle at the speed of sound. Instead of the reach for a waiting pad and the scatter of ballpoint colors staring from your desk unused and impatient, you grab for a volume that seems to scream from the near bookshelf.

It begs the recollection of time well spent, a pang in your chest follows a rushing to the surface as if air tearing from lungs lacking capacity. Your full weight collapses to your chair, recently upgraded at Namjoon’s insistence that nursing the squeaky four wheeler that threatened to collapse with the wrong release of breath violated his own moral codes before the hushed mumble about legal repercussions. You aren’t complaining, the upgrade makes you feel like a permanent staple, especially when your mind is convinced that layoff is imminent.

Your fingers trace the smooth cover of hardback, reckoning with the ache to feel the crisp of unturned pages and avoid the buildup that follows suit. It’s the not knowing that tugs at the precipice of your flowing mind, wishing for diagnosis from a stagnant flow of a previous gold mine.

Your ears peak at the surge of voices layering the lobby, though your mind squashes the urge for a slip back into the throw of pleasant chatter. You draw a drawer, fishing for half tangled buds, slipping them into your heightened canals to drown with the sounds of your latest fix.

~*~

The lift of Jeongguk’s gaze as heavy feet carry him past the fluorescent sign of Uhgood Tattoo and through the ringing entrance is subtle enough as doe eyes scan the lengthy space for a feminine form. He’s met with null, but the snag of his pupils on a wall of intricacy almost distracts from the loiter of men staring straight for him and Taehyung who is decidedly less preoccupied.

“Jeongguk, nice to see you again!” Namjoon booms over every voice in the room. His arms are half open in eager acceptance and Jeongguk leads Taehyung to the settled group, one last sweep still leaving him wanting for an introduction or a glimpse at best. “We were actually just talking about you.”

“About me?” His tone toes between surprise and unease, lips puckering in the shape of ‘oh’ and steps stuttering against the crunch of leaves slipping along linoleum.

“Yeah, Hoseok here was just saying how excited he is that you moved in. He owns the thrift shop just across from you.”

Hoseok doesn’t need much introduction before he’s centered in front of Jeongguk, smile glinting and hands reaching for the younger man with much fervor. Jeongguk would find the proximity daunting were it not for the friendly face reflecting in his widened irises. His chest rumbles, glad to place a face to bright signs and eccentric displays.

“Nice to meet you, we’re all glad to have a new face on our little strip. I’m especially glad to have an excuse to save myself from Jin’s questionable experiments in the kitchen.” Hoseok’s hand has yet to stop its steady shake of Jeongguk’s, too caught in words, leaving his mind’s body on its own. “Feel free to drop by my shop anytime, I love seeing new faces. Plus-”

“Here we go…” Jimin cuts, feigned exasperation coating his pitched tone before he excuses himself to the back of the shop. His exit isn’t swift enough to hide the exasperation of the puff of air that gaps his lips.

“There’s a special kind of magic in a shop like mine and because you just moved in the first trinket is on the house!”

“Oh magic? Taehyung’s really into that stuff, we’ll stop in sometime.” He gestures to his friend whose hands are shoved to the thick of his sweatshirt, lips pushed inward with the suck of his cheeks. “This is him by the way, Taehyung, he’s my partner of sorts at the cafe and my roommate.”

“Yeah, though the last one is questionable at the moment. Nice to meet you guys, this place is sweet! Do you do piercings by any chance?” As if by pure luck Jimin’s stepping back into the room, his eyes set ablaze with passion by the innocent inquiry.

“Piercings are my specialty actually, I can pierce any and everything!” His hands clasp to Taehyung’s shoulder, glad for excitement out of the realm of files and spreadsheets. Taehyung, surprised by the eager response, can only seem to nod along to the spew that falls from Jimin’s lips that near miles per minute. “Are you interested? I’d be happy to show you our collection.”

“This could take a while,” Jeongguk is startled by the presence of Namjoon somehow closer than before. Jimin is still spouting about his work to his potential client, Jeongguk takes in Taehyung’s features in search of a signal for help, but only finds him painted with interest and intrigue at the bundle of knowledge that is Park Jimin. Namjoon gestures to a hall along the far wall, a couple of paintings half crooked beckoning them forth. “We can talk about those tattoos if you’re interested?”

The buzz that surges in the cavity of his chest is answer enough, companied with the vigorous nod of his head, curls bouncing against the frame of his cheeks. “That would be great!”

Namjoon easily falls into the roll of guide, leading the two down the hall and past a couple of doors tightly sealed. The walls are a dark shade, set aglow by the heat of fixtures hanging overhead. Even in the dim setting, Jeongguk finds his head swiveling in every direction, thirsting to take in every inch of the place. In his haste he nearly trips over a section of flooring slightly raised, likely the result of settled foundation over many years. He decides rather quickly in favor of the building, the character of the interior clashing rather nicely with the updated signage on the outside.

‘We’ve got a few different stations for working,” Namjoon speaks up, drawing Jeongguk’s attention back. “We do them in the section off the side of the lobby if the customer is comfortable and it’s nothing major, but we also have private rooms that we as the artists like to use depending on the project.”

“That’s what these rooms are?” Jeongguk reaches with a pointed finger, tracing the expanse of the wooden frame, chipped and roughened, to a closed door. Rather than plaquing to decipher between the various enclosures there are framed sketches posted outside of each, nothing a newcomer like himself could pick up on, clearly contributed by the owners.

“For the most part, there’s my office and Y/n’s, and a storage closet but this is where the magic happens.” Namjoon allows Jeongguk a path to his office, door shutting in their wake with a dull thud.

It’s less decorated than Jeongguk was expecting, the barely bare walls outside of the office building up the anticipation of the canvas that must be spread within. Instead there’s nothing put bright white, almost blinding compared to what he’s seen so far. There are a few framed photos of Jimin, himself, and you; all smiling in various scenarios of glee. Other than the placement of a decently sized shelf in the corner and the desk perched along the adjacent wall this office gives no indication of Namjoon’ s labyrinthine line of work.

Even so, Namjoon appears highly intimidating as he takes a seat at his desk, gesturing Jeongguk to the comfortable chair across. Jeongguk is well aware that he doesn’t mean to give the impression of a boss, straight backed and fingers laced over mahogany, but that doesn’t make it any less so.

“So!” Namjoon speaks with triumph, his gauntlet the toss of the pen that had previously dangled from the fold of pierced ears. “You have any idea what you’re looking for in the ink department? I figure we can start with graphics and then discuss placement to see who the best fit would be for you.”

“Best fit?” Jeongguk leans forward, boots squeaking obscenely on the tile beneath. His cheeks flush at lack of knowledge, feeling as if the words spewed were foreign when in reality it was a jolt sent to the creases of his spine and straight to the red soaked appendage in his upper chest. While he’s entered this room with the assumption that Namjoon would be his sole artist, there lay a chance that the two of you will come face to face.

“Yeah, Y/n and I are both good at what we do but of course we both have our specialties. So we like to decide our clients that way sometimes.” Namjoon’s explanation leaves him none the wiser to hidden meanings and the hopeful perk of Jeongguk’s shoulders.

“Oh. I haven’t met Y/n yet,” He wonders if you rest behind one of the many doors leading to this one, sketching away on what he’s sure can only be a masterpiece. “Is she around?”

“Yeah...I don’t wanna disturb her though. Maybe she’ll be in the lobby when we’re finished here.” Namjoon’s words are sincere though his eyes seem to drift far off, their target the window over Jeongguk’s shoulder, shadowed by the growth of a large tree, branches dwarfing the ground outside. His trance is but a moment, focusing once more on the man before him. “What did you have in mind for your tattoo?”

“Well, actually, I was wondering if you guys use the tebori method here? I know it’s more widely used in japan, but I don’t really see myself heading over there anytime soon.” This shop isn’t the first that Jeongguk has scoped in hope of an artist with an extra element of technique, the buildup for disappointment resting in a rehearsed expression. He watches the myriad of expressions that Namjoon cycles through, almost as if the answer rests against the tip of his tongue, but he’s unsure if it’s the correct one. “It’s totally fine if—”

“We do.” He speaks without much expression save for the way his spine seems to cave inward as he continues to think. Jeongguk isn’t sure whether he should continue speaking, choosing instead to study the tilt of a pen on the desk, threatening to roll to the floor if it dances any longer at the edge of the surface. His nerves itch to grab for the object for some form of reprieve, afraid that the pending clatter will disturb Namjoon’s steady concentration and perhaps the calm mask that he appears to be sporting.

His head tilts a tad, curls falling over one pupil, the other spying Namjoon as if zeroing in on a target, nearly scrutinizing the pensive thinking with his galaxy gaze. He can see that just past the roof of Namjoon’s head there lies a single divot in the wall, nearly tricking the bump of accidental furniture, but Jeongguk’s own fist clenches in recognition, thumb tracing the jag of his knuckles.

“Y/n is the only person here that can tattoo with that particular technique, she’s amazing at it really, I’m just not sure if she’ll be up for it right now.” Namjoon’s words seem to pain him to utter, a strained longing in his voice that’s indecipherable without context. Jeongguk only nods along, curiosity curbed by his unyielding sense of etiquette in a situation that doesn’t wholly concern him. His feet are already pressing against the flooring, prepared to push to his feet and exchange pleasantries and assurance of no hard feelings, but Namjoon doesn’t seem quite through, leaving Jeongguk’s position to an awkward one hanging from the edge of his seat. “I don’t wanna speak for her though, so maybe you two can talk.”

“Okay, should I set up an appointment?”

“No, I think I heard her leave her office, she’ll probably be in the lobby. I’m sure she’ll be happy to see you now.” Namjoon’s mouth is once again split in dimpled grin, leaving Jeongguk’s head to a spinning akin to a child’s top. He’s led from the room, paying extra attention to the hall, ears itching to pick up a tone much higher than those in the lobby he left only a short time ago.

Contrary to Namjoon’s inference, the lobby is emptier than when they left, Jimin and Taehyung the only ones left milling about. Their speech mimics old friends, Jimin poking at Taehyung with the smile of someone who knows something that no one else does, Taehyung simply replying in kind with half grin.

“I thought I heard, Y/n.” Namjoon directs his voice at Jimin, fingers tapping the surface of his desk whilst his eyes take inventory of the shop. Jeongguk wonders if he thinks you’re hiding behind one of the plants situated in the corner, waiting for the perfect moment to catch them off guard.

“Mm, she left. But not before this one got his flirt on,” Jimin’s elbow catches Taehyung’s rib with a sharp jab coloring his words. Taehyung doesn’t allow this to phase him, standing to his feet with a shrug of nonchalance.

“Not flirting, we just happen to know each other. You done here?” He aims at Jeongguk stepping with purpose toward the door. Neither makes eye contact, the subject of interest not particularly left to the category of unmentionable, but leaving them both awkward and stiff.

“Uh, I think so.” Jeongguk slants so that Namjoon is well in his sights, already typing vigorously on his phone screen. “Should I schedule something or…?”

“Don’t worry about it, I have your number so I’ll just have Y/n give you a call to see when you guys meet.”

Jeongguk stands a moment longer, his toes tapping to the leather roof of boots so chunky they seem to swallow him from toe to ankle, the footwear attempting to take from his lengthy form and failing miserably. He turns mid-step when Taehyung slaps lightly at the sleeve of his jacket, urging him to step beyond the threshold. He lifts his arm to half wave, mumbling pleasantries, barely audible of the steps that echo in his ears with each pace onto the desolate sidewalk.

Jeongguk heads toward his own shop, missing the realization of the lack of paired steps with his own. Several paces behind him, a subtle guilt dressing the plains of his cheeks, Taehyung tugs at the wear of half chapped lips, wondering if the broach of a hazy subject is necessary. He catches Jeongguk easily with a jog, nearly stilling him mid-stride but saved from the extra physicality by the passing of a car.

“You know...Jimin was just joking.” Jeongguk’s brows lift, clearly only just catching sight of his constant companion, his own thoughts carrying him along the street without a wayward glance. His eyes widen, unsure of Taehyung’s intentions or the direction of the current topic. “About Y/n, I mean. I don’t really know her and we don’t flirt.”

“Wouldn’t matter if you did.”

“Yeah, sure. It’s just—look I know you saw her the other day and I’m willing to bet the only reason you haven’t mentioned that you’re intrigued is because you thought she was dating Jimin.” Taehyung treads, careful to avoid the gaze of reddened cheeks, Jeongguk’s hand raising to a nudge at his soft lobe, the other clenching and unclenching in denim blue, nails scratching the rough of fabric with each clasp. “Well clearly they’re not dating, so it wouldn’t be a bad thing if you did like her is all I’m saying.”

“Like I said, I don’t really know her. I think she’s cute, from a distance anyways, but I don’t think that’s any reason for a declaration.” The gentle tick of the crosswalk draws Jeongguk's attention on the present path to the opposing side of the street, ignoring the gentle tick of his chest.

A shining beacon in a sea of monotony. The words that filtered like a mantra, dressing the walls of his clogged brain, overflowing from files and dancing with the fires in tipped bins. Taehyung’s words extinguish the licking flames, if only momentarily, with meticulous reassurance.

A pocket of vibration, dark and clinging to his chilled skin, is notification for incoming correspondence. His steps skip, tripping along asphalt, saved only by the subtle grasp of a steady hand. His thanks are dropped without hesitation, hand slipping from fabric confines with the heavily encased lifeline pulsing with power.

From: Unknown [ 2:25pm]~is this jeongguk? namjoon gave me your number, said you need a consult?

From: Me[ 2:26pm]~yea...this is y/n im guessing?

His eyes pierce the screen, undressing the words with precision, ensuring he doesn’t make a fool in reply. He wasn’t prepared for the quick interception of the conversation he’s still processing, inner workings too focused on what’s straight ahead, not minutely prepared for Namjoon's speedy deliverance.

From: Unknown [ 2:30pm]~ding ding ding. im pretty much free whenever, so let me know what works with you and we can meet to discuss what you need and whether im the person for the job

From: Me[ 2:33pm]~ how about tomorrow around this time?

From: Unknown [ 2:34pm]~ cool. let’s meet at the park around the corner

And now, he waits.

~*~

The first thing you noticed was his approach, a confidence in his stride yet eyes that tried and failed to hide the glisten of steady orbs and the kiss of wind landing atop the surprising density of his cheeks like the piling of new snow. Your legs were crossed at the ankle, bare skin grazed by the cool of grass half dried by the desert chill, hands gripping the accumulation of sleeve inched to the open of your palm whilst your lips curved in mimic at the pout of his own, unintentional but perfectly protruding with the tracking of your steady tilt.

If one were to ask about the slight tremor in your hand or the subtle inch across inches between, you would fail to mention the metaphorical personality of your pulsing appendage and the ooz of liquid red abandoning the organ overflowed to trace the expanse of veins humming with the melodic string of laughter yet to abandon the space since he first spoke. You were immediately taken with soft speech and stolen glances, the professional tossed aside when you asked him to meet you, altogether forgotten when he said hello.

The pulsing was stunned only momentarily when he withdrew, hand disappearing into deep pockets to pose leather-bound pages and the hesitant stretch of muscles, the quick twitch of his neck the line of a rod, drawing you forward with each gentle reel of innocence. Now you sit, tangled in silent adoration, dripping admiration for the collaged pages, soaked in brilliance.

“These are yours?” You stroke the page with the ease of your pointer, his head tilting, hair framing, whilst he nods in a lopsided grin. You don’t notice the glue to your cheek, his eyes steady studying you while you study the glide of his hand with jet black against the white page.

He wonders if you catch the nerves, the steady vibration of his unsteady palms, gentle leap of muscled thigh and the brush of your leg with each accidental inch closer. The proximity did him in, your face from a distance only a picture on a page, face to face giving him the overwhelming sensation of the walk through a gallery filled with seven wonders, their spectacle meaningless without the promise of you.

He pretended for a moment, between laughter and brushes of innocence that he’s known you a lifetime, the thought only pulling at his metaphorical strings because he wishes he had. Your voices echo is sure to leave him wide eyed and ceiling bound for nights to come, imagining the galaxy as you, white expanse the only thing keeping from the grip he so wishes he could establish on the slip of your time here.

He knows it’s insanity, thoughts that won’t leave him be, the closeness driving him further to the edge. It’s the reason for his transition to the journal, the reason you’re perched in the grass with the whipping wind and dead leaves skirting around you.

“It’s just some ideas I have, I jot them down so I don’t forget. I was hoping we could work on them, flesh them a bit more…” Your gaze leaves the page, magic dwindling a sum, aghast at the audacity in his words. You withdraw, clenching fists to rationalize the wait for rejection on your behalf.

“Why me? I mean, you’ve seen Namjoon’s work, he’s great.”

“He said that you’re skilled in the tebori method. I’d like them to be done in that style and not many people can. Plus, I’ve seen your work too, it’s just as amazing.” Jeongguk notes the deflation, not unaware of Namjoon’s warning. He’s tempted to pry, but reverses hoping to stumble upon neutral territory, already missing the strain of your muscles in smile. “But obviously it’s only if you’re comfortable. I don’t mean to put you on the spot.”

“You’re not, I just...can I think about it? I know that’s so incredibly unprofessional of me but—”

“Take as long as you need.” Jeongguk decides immediately he doesn’t need an explanation, that your rumination is the promise of another rendezvous, high hopes lifting him over the horizon of the midday sun, skin aching for the glow of golden hour.

You already know you’ll say yes, outright rejection never an option, the flicker of expression alight in your left receptacle more than reason to feel him once more. The physical is through the page, but the metaphorical is the connection of souls, the cliché of one person and the hope of renewed ardor.

“I promise I won’t be long…” The words hang, heavy in the air between and with more meaning than your intent. You’re led away by the weight of obligation, required assistance from Jimin to cover the desk, legs like infant limbs after an hour unmoving.

Jeongguk follows suit, still chewing the words before spewing his own right back. The same weight and familiarity in his soft deliverance.

“I’ll be waiting.”

And now, you climb.

~*~

“How was your date?” Jimin is already setting up his station, eyes not sparing a glance, concentration wholly reserved. His vibration is palpable, though you don’t immediately notice, the feeling still finding stringed limbs when you reach your seat behind the desk.

“I was meeting a client,” You speak hollow and unconvincing, the magic coursing through your veins begging to differ. Wonder is silent, eyes latching to the single eye muraled to the wall, imagining it to glisten like Sirius reflecting in the night sky, musing how one day could build a coherency of such magnetism yet still be held at arm’s length.

“Oh really? It’s just that, I never meet my clients at the park...” His voice is a hum, settling an array of options for the post pierce browse. “—it’s certainly a bonus that said client is very handsome and already seems pretty interested.”

“You’ve never even seen us in the same room, I just met him today.”

“Whatever. I assume he’ll be coming around a lot more.”

Your fingers grasp the nearest instrument, ballpoint clicking in time with the tap of your toe against the leg of the chair. “I don’t know if I’m gonna agree. I don’t want him to be disappointed in the result.”

“I know you think you’re old news, but the fact that you didn’t say no is reason enough. There’s clearly a part of you that wants to, so why not take the plunge?”

“I can’t say yes just because I feel some strange attraction to him. That would be inappropriate,” Your mind barely registers the entrance of figure three, a client you presume, the sign-in ledger already halfway across the desk when Jimin speaks again.

“So you are attracted to him?”

“I didn’t say that.”

“Yes you did,” Your pen clatters, nimble fingers swooping it in your absence, Taehyung’s smirk a playful gleam to counter your startled posture. He greets Jimin as an old friend, the two waiting for you to catch up, the slouch of your spine and the configuration of the scene pulling you back into the current take.

“You’re the one getting a piercing?” Wheels push the foundation, abandoning the desk in favor of the plush leather Taehyung has already sunken into. You believe he feels at home, the decorative jewelry already hanging from his lobes the badge of a pierced veteran.

“Yeah, I figure it’s time to expand my collection.” His hand brushes the lengthy edges of his dark locks, leaving ample space for Jimin to reach his target, the depth of his gaze landing on your arch over the chair’s arm. “I’m assuming your meeting went well?”

“What do you know about my meeting?”

“Why do you think I was here yesterday? The piercing was just a bonus,” He pokes at the tray beside him, the light smack of Jimin’s hand drawing him back to the confines of his lounge. You try to connect dots lost in the fray of day to day. Taehyung is not entirely new to you though still unfamiliar, but you don’t recall the mention of Jeongguk during his earlier visits.

“So you guys know each other then?” Your disbelief finds Jimin, his hand’s busied with extra sanitation and his lips focusing hard to keep his face straight. “I’m assuming I’m simply the last to know, okay then.”

“It’s just circumstance really, I’m the one who came to your door, you were in your office when we came here yesterday and he was in Namjoon’s office when you came out. I promise he wasn’t avoiding you, quite the opposite actually.” You’re too intrigued for embarrassment, your attention handed tenfold to Taehyung, his head slightly tilted while Jimin readies to pierce him.

As of late the stench of disinfectant would trigger a memory you were fighting hard to shield from the surface, but the idea of not knowing more of Taehyung drives it from your mind, currently on one track and unwavered by anything that’s not Jeongguk. Even so, there’s a haze, or perhaps the attempt of common sense forcing you to look past the filter of brights to truly grasp reality.

“We’d never met before today, how could he possibly be looking for me?”

“We actually saw you a few days ago, before you and I officially met. You and Jimin were leaving the shop and he seemed pretty distracted by you, but he thought you two were dating.” Your laughter emits in breathy sighs, muddled by the fluttering in your abdomen, Jimin’s lips smug, shoulders rounded.

“Easy mistake, we’d make a cute couple.” It would be a fib to deny that it’s the first time it’s been thought that you and Jimin were more than friends. His neighbors foolishly believe your late nights are spent anywhere save for the couch, silver screen glaring back at your glued lids.

You watch Jimin work, ignoring the bore of Taehyung’s eyes, his focal point to ignore the sharp sting of the needle. He barely flinches, your own body lurching in slight when the needle meets puffed skin. His hand clasps your wrist, pulling you closer, examining the bare skin in earnest.

“You don’t have any tattoos...none that I can see at least.” He notices, jumping to your eyes and back to your arm. He leans forward when Jimin steps away, gathering his studded collection of earrings, reflecting with golds and silver. “That’s pretty interesting considering you give them to other people for a living.”

“Astute observation. I do not have any tattoos visible or otherwise.” Taehyung kisses his teeth, easily opting for a pair reminiscent of chains. You look for judgement, but there’s none in his study of the colorful space, just a curiosity he’s not sure he should breach. “I’ve always wanted one, but I was too scared. Ridiculous but true.”

“Scared of needles?”

“At first maybe. Scared of the permanence of it all. It feels like such a big responsibility, to me at least, to decide what to get tattooed and I’ve never gotten to a point where I could just do it.” You think back to pages bound by leather with frightening immediacy, the conviction with which the they screamed at you almost haunting if not for the beauty of it. Chilling in the details of sketches, moments in time grasped so eloquently. A part of you is certainly jealous, but the other part is so irrevocably drawn to depth and desire. “Hey, Taehyung, is Jeongguk still at his shop by chance?”

“Actually I’m supposed to be meeting him for ice cream after this so he might already be there.” He pulls his device from his jacket, squinting at the screen, thumb gliding in swiftness. “You guys should come!”

“Oh we don’t wanna—”

“I’m in, I’ve been craving a good scoop,” Jimin leaves no room for disagreement, his limbs already at full speed to hurry cleaning his station. “We don’t have any clients and Namjoon is out of town for the day, so I think we’re good to close up. Plus, you can tell Jeongguk you’ll take him on.”

“I never said I would,” You slide back into your jacket, tucking your limbs into the sleeves. The sky has darkened significantly since the dusting of rays that splashed your skin as you sprawled the grass barely an hour earlier.

“You never said you wouldn’t.” The two are like stooges, already mastering the collaborative effort to challenge you.

“Have fun with your ice cream, I’m, hopefully, going home to a heated apartment.”

~*~

Jin has been talking to Jeongguk since he entered, the recognition of the new young entrepreneur on the strip catching his attention without pause. He’s a nice guy, his energy something Jeongguk would appreciate on any given day, but he was hoping for a moment of collection before Taehyung arrived.

He’s stuck on a blur, the low heat of his skin and the canals of his ears, yearning for the vibration of laughter and soft words spoken beneath the breeze. It was easy and good, an hour lost, an hour found. He would’ve laid there in the grass for hours after your departure were in not for the chill that crept in so easily without you beside him.

He wonders if it was a mutual feeling or if your reaction was just polite, a business tactic. No. Not you, you’re not the type to pretend, he knows even if he doesn’t know. Your sincerity was like a sickness, spilling from your every crevice, pouring out with your every phrase. He’s sure even you don’t notice the significant way you carry yourself, impossible to turn away from.

“Hey, Jin, talking Jeongguk’s ear off I see.” Jeongguk breaks his stare from where it concentrated on the ink already eating his skin, Jimin standing over the booth with Taehyung chuckling beside him. “Maybe give him a break and take out order?”

“There’s a counter, Park Jimin, and—” Jin squints in the direction of the counter, a small line waiting for their treats of the frozen variety, though not many people are keen for the cold in the midst of winter. “—yup there’s definitely someone up there waiting just for you.”

“Ha ha, leave him alone, Jin, his mind is already occupied plenty.” Jin slides from the booth, Jimin immediately taking his place, Taehyung sliding in after him.

Jin feigns reluctance when Jimin recites his order, all around friendlier when Jeongguk and Taehyung do the same. Jimin turns his attention to the other side of the booth when Jin sidles off, already choosing his next target. “Where’s your head at?”

“Hm?”

“We just talked to Y/n, I hear your meeting went well, prospects are high. She seems interested,” Taehyung’s speech is backed with encouragement, Jeongguk’s lip quivering, but winning the fight against his impending smile, intent on not giving himself away too quickly.

“She said she’d think about it and I’m perfectly okay with that.” He thinks of your promise, the thoughts skirting past the surface for a sign, a signal that the more he feels is exactly the meaning behind your words. His rang true, he would wait and be content. He would be prepared to have you work as his artist and end things there, but the weight in his pocket and the recollection of your eyes doubled in size leaves room for the want of more.

“She seemed impressed with you,” Jimin adds, chin rested in his palm, reading for reaction. “The fact that she’s considering is a really good sign. For her and for you.”

“It all just felt really natural,” The two watch as Jeongguk’s eyes glaze over just thinking about the exchange. “Almost like we…”

He trails, face heating, his thoughts almost betraying him. He’s relieved when a server comes bearing dishes, thanking them aloud with pleasantry and inwardly for saving him from himself. The relief is short lived when two sets of eyes beam at him like he’s an amusement, waiting for him to continue.

“Almost like you…”

“Nothing, it’s really stupid. She’s really great, I’ll be lucky if she decides that I’m worth it.” He covers lamely, shoving his spoon past his lips, letting creamy vanilla coat his tongue and ease his mind.

“Trust me,” Jimin mumbles, swallowing his own hefty scoop. “She decided that the moment you sat down.”

~*~

It’s unclear what brought you to this stool some nights later, half buzzed and wondering if you’ll have to call Jimin to drag you home. Your mind hasn’t completely fogged, liquor light with mercy, heavy consequences no doubt pending for the morning to come. A break, you’d decided, hands and knees stained with product, trying in vain to work the stain from your carpet, the smudge faint but not enough to miss your eye.

The crowd is surprising, though you wouldn’t know as you don’t often go to the place with the metaphorical bad stuff, your own brand of lunacy dancing in boxes lacing your cabinetry. You recall the draw of drinks from mugs and Jimin off-key when you’re sliding more bills than you prefer across the counter. Moving is without appeal, head to the counter the way to go.

“Hey, you okay?” The voice is familiar, worth the work to lift your head. Jeongguk looks down at you, his hand placed to the bar, eyes wide with concern.

His own stumbling through the door of the room with the dim lighting and the absurd amount of sports playing in every corner was boredom. Taehyung had plans and he was left alone to the drone of the television, the shop in need of a break from him. The dishes already glistening from his tenth wash despite the lack of use. A spot of dust enough to send him into a frenzy. From Jimin the name of the dive was briefly mentioned, in relation to what he couldn’t say, the topic never picking his brain from the moment it was first spoken.

Now he’s glad he wasn’t a horrible companion, the sight of you hunched over reason enough for his half listen. He notes your solitude immediately, drawn to the side of the bar rather than the thick of it all, two glasses empty before you.

“Jeongguk!” Your tone is uneven, eyes looking watered under the lights, your smile brightening in his eyes. He can’t help but to return, lowering into the stool so your faces are level. “I didn’t know you were here.”

“I just got here actually and I saw you so…”

“You came for me?” If you were less influenced the words would have remained nothing more than a thought, passing in a sea of others you could never muster courage to speak. Though you’re not sure that a post buzz reflection will make you wish they were any less materialized, the way his features soften like a fertilization for the growth of your thudding heart.

“I—yeah, I came for you. Are you ready to head home?”

“You don’t know where I live,” You say the words, knowing you’ll go anywhere with him even if he doesn’t. You let him guide you from your stool, his touch soft, never too much.

“You know, I’ve got a pretty good idea.”

~*~

He lingers outside of your door, adoring the small struggle you have with lock and key, about to lend a hand when your triumph catches him, arms lifting over your head, turning to him with a smile. “Come on!”

“You want me to come in?” Taehyung will be home soon and he has no way of explaining that he’s at your place that doesn’t involve some teasing on his best friend’s end of it, though it doesn’t matter when you latch on to the sleeve of his jacket and pull him past the threshold.

The biggest difference between your place and theirs is the lived-in aspect. He would say that it’s cute, but it’s too simple a word. It seems you prefer mood lighting, the flip of a switch igniting fairies strung to the base of the ceiling. It suits you, who’s already stumbling toward the kitchen expecting that Jeongguk is hot on your trail. The décor is simple, a few paintings on the wall, rugs and cozy furniture.

“I’m sorry if it’s cold in here, it’s always kind of cold in here,” You mutter, grabbing two mugs and giving life to your kettle. Jeongguk recalls that you were no longer in possession of your space heater, taken by Taehyung and himself and still unreturned. He debates running over to grab it, but your hand once more on his wrist, drags him to the sofa erasing the thought of walking out of that door. “Thanks for bringing me home, I promise I’m not that wasted. You don’t have to be so nervous.”

“No, I’m not nervous! Not because you were drinking anyways…”

“So you are nervous...why?”

“You make me nervous...in a good way!” He’s quick to regroup, noting the fall of your features, hating that it’s because of him. “It’s completely insane, but from the moment I saw you I…”

“Me too.” Jeongguk’s previously averted gaze rushes to meet you, already staring back. He doesn’t need to ask what you mean, confident that what you feel is what he feels. Confident that it doesn’t matter how insane it may sound. “It’s so crazy, but when I saw you yesterday something just clicked and I thought maybe it’s because you’re ridiculously attractive but then we talked and it was so natural.”

“I’m glad it wasn’t just me,” He takes a chance, hand sliding to yours, resting against your thigh. Your fingers tangle without stutter, the position meant to be, so full of warmth and understanding. “I saw you with Jimin a few days ago, I couldn't stop staring."

So long is spent staring, enjoying each other and the mutual affection that's like an aura engulfing you.

"Where exactly do we go from here?” Jeongguk tugs at his bottom lip, another quality that fills you with warmth.

“Why are you opening a tea shop?”

“What?”

“We’re practically strangers, I don’t even know your last name actually. So, if there’s some weird predestined love at first sight phenomenon going on here, I’d like to know everything about you before we proceed.” You click, smile a contagious thing, one that Jeongguk would be remiss not to embrace wholeheartedly. “So why a tea shop?”

“Well first, my last name is Jeon—”

“Jeon Jeongguk…” He watches you test the words against your tongue. “Cute. You’re cute.”

“Anyways,” He blushes. “I’ve always loved making tea. I learned it at a young age and then I started experimenting and decided that this is what I wanna do. I figured focusing on boba would draw more people in, but I also wanna expand on what I already know.”

“Well if anything, Hoseok will be there at least twice a day.”

“What about you?”

“I think I can make time, though you are really out of the way I might not be able to swing it.”

“I’ll pick you up, or better yet I can just bring it right to you,” He offers, amused but truthful. “No, but I mean how did you get into tattooing, and how did you learn tebori?”

“Ah…” Your eyes find one of the frames hanging nearest the window, a landscape that Jeongguk can barely make out aside from the distance of neon. “Well, I was studying abroad actually, in Japan. I was an art history major and I didn’t really know what I wanted to do so I thought getting away would help me figure it out.”

You think often about the day when your current occupation seemed so foreign, your adolescence always filled with imaginings of galleries under curation, days filled with frames and packed schedules.

“One of my classmates convinced me to go out with her one night because she wanted a tattoo and I wanted one too, so I didn’t really see why I shouldn’t go. She got hers first, a flower I think, and while I was watching the artist I was just blown away by the technique.”

“Tebori?”

“Mmhm, of course I’d seen the regular ink and needle, but this just seemed to me something on a deeper level and I fell in love with it. It’s probably the most insane thing I’ve done to date, but I finished my degree abroad and stayed in Japan to learn and now I’m here.”

“Why’d you come back?”

“It just felt like it was time...sometimes I wish I hadn’t or that I could go back to visit. Like it’ll remind me what it felt like in the beginning, make me feel like less of a failure. I'd actually get my tattoo.”

“You’re not a failure, we just have patches sometimes. You’ll figure it out, we’ll figure it out.” The steam of the kettle startles from the moment you're quick to exit to the stove, mulling words and recovering from the embarrassment of exposure over the steaming water. “You know, I don’t have tea so I hope hot chocolate is okay?”

“It’s perfect,” Jeongguk accepts his mug and the packet of mix, stirring it in time with his breathing. He’s left to the obvious blushing of his cheeks, musing his circumstance, sharing a drink with the perfect anomaly. He’s ignored the constant stream of vibration from his pocket, no interest in removing himself from the cozy bubble. “So this place is pretty shitty, I would know and I’ve only lived here about a week. Why do you stay here?”

“You live here? Wait...you and Taehyung are roommates, duh sorry. I’m still trying to catch up.”

“Yeah, thanks for the space heater by the way. I’m pretty sure I would’ve given in the first night if I had to sleep in the cold.”

“Ha! No worries, sometimes I do give in and I stay over at Jimin’s place. But I’m just not ready to let this place go yet, I guess. It’s not great, but change is hard and I’ve been here for so long.”

You're close along the counter, space invaded without invitation, gravitation controlling your every step. The rest of the night follows suit, closeness and appeal. You enjoy words and laughter, ignoring the possibility of the responsibility the next day alludes.

Somehow you find yourselves in your bed, faces close and bodies tucked beneath the thick duvet. You're glad the heat isn’t working tonight, Jeongguk wrapped around you like a boa, slowly falling into the depths of unconsciousness, the conversation lulling with each random topic. Your throat is strained from laughter and your brain is filled with more than it thought possible.

Inches are now centimeters and you’re snails inching toward the finish, certain but uncertain if the light of day will change the result of your exchange.

The morning following you wake much the same as you slept, tangled, breaths mingling between. Jeongguk is still snoring, blissfully unaware of the authoritative knock echoing from your front door. Hands pushing at your eyes, feet tingling against the cold flooring, you swing the door with an annoyance you’re prepared to unleash before you’re met with Taehyung.

His eyes are half frantic, neck craning to see around you.

“Taehyung?”

“Hey, I’m sorry to bother you, but have you seen Jeongguk? I’ve been trying to reach him since last night and he’s not answering.”

“O-oh...um he’s here, let me get him,” You mumble, allowing Taehyung, his eyes softening and features squinted, to step inside. You leave him standing in the living room, ignoring the knowing smirk, head bowed as you step into your bedroom.

You regret the gentle shove of his shoulders, and the hushed “wake up” that slowly but surely draws Jeongguk from his sleep. He looked peaceful, full of youth with his eyes stapled and breath steady rising and falling. His eyes are puffy when he raises, confusion laced features recalling that he wasn’t in his own home.

His arm extends, patting your side of the bed, unaware that you were the reason for premature awakening. “Hey sleepy head.”

“What are you doing up?” He finds your hand, grabbing hold in an attempt to pull you back to bed. Though you would be more than willing, Taehyung is sure to have heaps to say already, no reason to add fuel to the fire already blazing in his pupils.

“Taehyung is here,” That catches his attention, eyes darting to the door half open. “He said he’s been trying to reach you. He’s waiting in the living room, I’m sorry if you didn’t want him to know you’re here, I panicked.”

“No it’s fine,” He assures, sliding from the bed, the same chill that ate you catching him with bare feet. You follow him back out to Taehyung, who’s taken it upon himself to peruse the space, currently examining the coffee table with it’s day old mugs. “Hey, I’m sorry I didn’t get back to you.”

Looking between the two of you, your hand finding habit at Jeongguk’s shoulder, he shrugs. “No biggie, just thought you might be in a ditch or something. Turns out I was very wrong, so I’ll leave you to it.”

“I’ll just come with you, I should probably shower and change. I’ve got some stuff to take care of before the opening. I can’t believe it’s only a couple months away.” You drop your hand, leaving him to it, an awkward and unsure feeling settling in your stomach. It’s clear that Jeongguk is a bit embarrassed, not that you’re own emotions haven’t caused the sting of a heat in your cheeks. You wait for him to follow Taehyung, who’s already waved goodbye, hands in his pockets as he stalks away.

Jeongguk isn’t so quick, turning to your ground bound pupils, fingers drifting to the trace of your jaw and nudging you to greet him. You’re taken by the lack of hesitation when his lips meet yours in kiss, short and sweet, altogether unexpected. “I’ll see you later, yeah?”

“I wouldn’t miss it,” You coo, fingers brushing his cheek gingerly, rewarded with one more peck before Taehyung is groaning in the hallway, effectively tearing Jeongguk from you to catch up.

~*~

You’re warm, for the first time in a long time you’re warm, from your chest to your veins, head and toes, and it’s all because of Jeon Jeongguk. His departure wasn’t the last of him, the next few months full of meetings planned and spontaneous, your phone alight with too many notifications, every one taken in with the same adoring smile and your own obsessed response.

You would stop by Hoseok’s blessing him with a coffee, happily listening to his rambling about the horrendous new flavor Jin had him and Yoongi test the other night. Across the street you could just see Jeongguk through the window, lips pulled in concentration, pen scribbling on the pad in front of him. Though it was cute, you couldn’t help but to attempt to cheer him up, his eyes immediately finding you after he’s read the little note sent to his phone.

You would be sick with yourself if you were the one to witness the affection radiating from your expanse, but you couldn’t care less how many times Jimin fake gags or the small lecture you endure when Yoongi delivers flowers later in the day. You hold on to the feeling and you hope that it feels like this all the time.

“What are you working on?” Namjoon steps into your office, no other reason than his own boredom swallowing him whole, much like the cushions when he collapses into your sofa.

“Just some of Jeongguk’s sketches…” You noticed rather quickly the familiar book resting on your bedside table after your first night together, no doubt placed by Jeongguk before sleep could find him. You spent the morning getting to know his art better, so you could try to make it exactly what he wanted. You only just got around to transferring the sketches to your own notebook, hoping to have something to show him at his opening.

“He’s really good for you. I haven’t seen you this eager about sketching in a while.”

“You think so?”

“What, you don’t?”

“No, I just...I don’t want you to think I’m completely insane for jumping into this so suddenly. I mean, I think it’s insane that I could be so completely sure about someone so quickly and I think the world of you, so I don’t want you to be disappointed…”

He laughs, whole hearted laughter fills your office and you’re not positive how you should respond. Your hands are unsteady on your pen, ready for him to completely crush your soul, back to the same girl standing in his doorway all those years ago.

“Honestly, you give me way too much credit.”

“What do you mean?”

“The night that you showed up, I was wondering how I was even gonna keep this place open. The building wasn’t the most friendly looking, most people walked right past, the outside giving them the impression that the inside was just as decrepit,” He sighs, head supported by the arm of the chair, eyes holding the ceiling in place. “When you showed up I was seconds away from telling you to get lost, then you handed me your sketches and you looked so hopeful. You were my last chance, so really I should be thanking you for being so spontaneous, especially if it means you’re happy.”

“Wow, why didn’t you ever say anything?”

“I didn’t want to put more pressure than you already put on yourself. Plus, it doesn’t really matter now, does it? We’re doing pretty good, and that’s what’s important.”

The revelation is a motivation, your grip on the pencil tightening, strokes light and even on the page. Namjoon doesn’t say much more, silent inspiration while he falls into slumber, the only reason he ever finds himself meandering into your space.

“Knock knock,” Jeongguk peers around the corner, your finer flying to your lips, the other gesturing toward Namjoon, dozing peacefully. “Sorry, does he do that a lot?”

“Oh yeah, he pretends he wants to know what I’m up to then he’s out like a light before I’ve finished speaking.”

“I’ll have to try it sometime—”

“Watch it,” You warn playfully, sneakily closing your notebook so he can’t see. “What’s up? I figured you would be too busy filling orders for little ole me.”

“Never, and I want you to try this! I was thinking I could add it to the special menu. I know everyone is into the whole lemonade with boba thing which we do offer but I was trying to make a tea that’s more on the fruity side than the tea side because I know some people are put off by the tea taste, ya know?” He watches you uncomfortably closely, your face trained to be as neutral as possible while flavors explode, traveling to opposing ends of your mouth, battling it out, but ultimately left with no winner.

“You know, I appreciate the thought and I’m sure if you work on it some more it’ll be perfect but…”

“It’s disgusting.” He finishes for you sighing in defeat, collapsing in the chair across from you.

“No!” You round the desk, his arms ready to accept your slide into his lap. “It’s not disgusting, it’s just...not quite blended yet.”

He takes the to-go cup, sipping his own concoction. You wonder if he tried it at all before running over here, his habit of trusting your initial judgement extremely endearing, but unnecessary. It stems only from your admittance that you weren’t the biggest tea drinker and that you’re one of those lemonade with the boba people. His mission became clear, he couldn’t stand to see you walk into his shop knowing that you’ll be leaving with sugared lemons squeezed into juice. He has to make you the perfect tea if it’s the last thing he does.

He was set on making it for the opening, but to no avail, the sign flipped, his employees brewing away, his drop here only partially out of the necessity for his favorite taste tester. “It’s disgusting,” He decides immediately, fighting the urge to spit it back into the cup. “You have to stop being so nice to me, it’s cute, but I want you to yell at me like you yell at Jimin.”

“I don’t yell at Jimin!”

“You yell at Jimin all the time, lovingly, but there are voices raised.” Namjoon rubs at his eyes, tugging at the shirt riding at his abdomen. “We goin for tea or what? I swear people are gonna think we’re out of business with how often we close early.”

"Yeah, can you just give us a minute?" You try your best to be discrete, nodding toward the notebook on your desk.

"Yeah...Jimin and I will just meet you there." He leaves you, door clicking in his wake and you turn to Jeongguk with a ready grin, eyes wide with excitement.

"Is this one of those things where I should knock everything off of your desk? If so I'm down, but this is a weird time…"

"No! I have a surprise for you." You pull his journal from it's position beneath the stacks of paper on your desk. "You left this at my place your first night over."

"I've been looking for this! I was embarrassed to tell you I lost it, but it turns out you're a klepto." He teases, taking hold of the pages. "So you decided to hold it hostage?"

"I wasn't holding it hostage, I was working on…" You lift your sketchbook, flipping to the appropriate page. "These."

They aren't complete, but you want his first impression and suddenly you understand the tea thing. It's a radically different medium, your shared art actually pending ink on his body, but you don't want to go too far only to disappoint. He leans against the desk, not speaking, just staring, expressionless.

"If you don't like them we can talk about what you want changed, I just tried to make something I thought would fit what you've already got going."

He finally looks up, eyes glistening, your stomach doing flips. You're too afraid to ask what he's thinking, so you continue to wait, hoping he'll speak up soon and that you didn't insult him with your vision.

"I love them."

"Really? You don't have to worry about hurting my feelings, it's your body you know."

"Really, you're amazing. This is better than I could've hoped and I can't wait until it's permanent." His words are firm with sincerity, notebook laid to the side in favor of pulling you into his arms. "How am I supposed to compete? I can't even make tea for you."

"Relax, your tea is perfectly fine! I just enjoy the occasional lemonade. Come on, we'll go to the shop, you can make me whatever you want and I'll love it."

"Deal, but...I-we have a surprise for you as well."

"For me?"

"Yeah, I was talking with the guys the other day, we were talking about you..."

"You and the guys? This should be good."

"It is, I promise." He produces an envelope from his pocket, no scrawl on the outside, more mystery than you're ready for. “I was thinking about what you said that first night, about wanting to remember what it was like in the beginning.”

“What did you do?” You tear into the envelope, fingers moving so slowly you fear the skin will catch in the thin edges. What you pull is far from what you imagined, a ticket printed blue for a week’s time. Jeongguk stares at you expectantly, waiting for some form of reaction, but you’re not sure what to say. “This is a plane ticket…”

“Yeah, to Japan. We want you to go back and we knew you wouldn’t do it unless we planned it for you.”

“You guys didn’t have to.”

“We wanted to, I wanted to. The way your eyes lit up talking about that time in your life, I would do anything to give that to you again. So we want you to go to Japan, do something for you.” His lips land on your forehead, breathing you in while you process the unexpected gift. It’s more than you could ever imagine, but there’s a single string, dangling with uncertainty. You figure the only way to eliminate it is to pull full force, risk sounding ridiculous.

“What about you?” Jeongguk’s face scrunches in confusion, the inquiry the last thing he expected. His thoughts were far from himself, not naive enough to think his mind would be focused anywhere but you while you’re gone, but never thinking it would be a reason you’re unsure about going. “I don’t mean to sound stupid, but I’d miss you too much.”

“You can call me everyday, any time of day. I’ll be there, you don’t have to worry about me not being here waiting for you.”

“Or...you could come?”

“Oh, you want me to? I figured you’d want to do your own thing, not have me weighing you down.” Your arms find his waist, head resting against his chest, giggling at the prospect of Jeongguk being anything more than a comforting presence.

“Of course I want you to, I wanna show you everything.”

“I’ll have to figure things out with the shop, but—”

“Oh, wow I’m so selfish. Of course you can’t just drop everything to come with me, I’m sorry, I wasn’t thinking.” You shake your head, silently scolding your inconsideration. Jeongguk grabs hold of your shoulders, stopping you mid step, hand halfway to smack your forehead.

“I would love to come, I just have to talk to Taehyung about it. I’m sure he wouldn't mind taking on a little more responsibility. Actually he’ll probably pack my bags for me.”

“Are you sure?”

“Positive. I’ll probably have to catch a later flight, just to get things taken care of.” He thinks aloud.

“I think I can manage a few days on my own.”

“I promise I won’t be long.”

“I’ll be waiting.”

And now, we smile.

#bangtanuniversity #bangtanidx #bangtanarmynet #thebtswritersclub #jungkook x reader #jjk x reader #jeongguk x reader #jungkook fluff #jungkook fanfic #bts fanfic #bts fluff #jjk fluff #bts au #jungkook au #bts s2l #jungkook s2l

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littlemisslipbalm · 4 years ago

Text

Little Border Town Pt. II

Summary: Harry starts to find himself more and more drawn to the bookshop owner. She’s maybe not as annoying as he first thought. And maybe Harry isn’t the worst like she thought either. A little notebook, drinks, shoes, and a boat begin to show each other that.

AKA: Harry and Y/N are neighbors that fight all the time, the whole town wants to know when they’ll just fuck.

ello loves, part 2 is finally here pls let me know what you think!! barely proofread sorry... also i think theres gonna be quite a few parts to this because i keep not getting all i want to say said in each part. and im trying to keep the chunks relatively short. — also I made one direction lowkey exist bahaha

Word Count: 9.2k | Warnings: flirty fighting/banter, slowburn

Part 1

The next day Harry found himself walking into the bookshop next door without really thinking about it. He hadn’t seen Y/N again for his early morning run and he had his list for her of the Paul Simon albums he already had. They hadn’t had their windows or shades open last night either so it was the first night he didn’t give her a salute and she didn’t flip him off. The jostle in routine seemed a little weird to him so as he walked through the shop's door and the bell sounded, he thought the smile on his face was because he was well rested and unbothered by anything.

Y/N had slept in this morning. She couldn’t put her finger on it, but the beginning of Fall always put her in a cozy sleepy mood. She wanted to go to a pumpkin patch and watch a fire burn out in a fireplace. She wanted to listen to her halloween playlist and plan out an intricate costume with her friends. All of this was a wistful dream though. She had quickly learned that the little border town didn’t celebrate Halloween how they did in the States or any major cities. It was okay, at the end of the day, even if she was a little bummed about it. This was her new life and she would have to adapt to the new customs.

After she walked downstairs and unlocked the door, she went back over to her front counter. Yesterday, right when Harry had come in, she had found a booklet of Marie’s. It was leafed over to the point that all the pages were crinkled and dirtied from hand debris. Each page was filled with her loopy handwriting, all of it in French. She must have only liked blue pens because even if the type changed over different pages, the color was always blue. Each page was headed with a name, a customer’s name Y/N was starting to realize as she leafed through the pages. She sat back on the wooden stool she had gotten for behind the counter and propped the book in her hand. After the name of the customer there were extensive details on them. Not their purchases specifically, but their preferences, their personality, and just tidbits about any quirks they had or interesting things Marie had decided were of note.

She found many names that were now familiar to her after her few months of living in the little border town. There really weren't that many people to get to know and the tourists were starting to die down now that the school year was getting back in. After a few minutes of pouring over Monsieur Friedfrickson’s page, who lives across the street from her and runs the flower and gardening supplies shop, she flips to an even more familiar name’s page.

“Harry Styles.” The page had the name written out in strong tall letters. Marie had used a blue inky pen for his page, not a ballpoint. “Likes Music. Poetry. Love stories. Romance with a happy ending, but also likes the practical love too.” The interests are laid out plain and she purses her lips at the idea that Harry is interested in romance novels. She wondered what type of poetry he liked since Marie didn’t seem to think that had to be elaborated on. “He’s a special one,” it reads and Y/N scoffs to herself, really Marie? She reads on, “His heart is in the right place, but he’s got a mouth on him. Quick-witted and charming, but kind-hearted and sincere.” She pauses, and flicks the page back and forth, checking that it still reads Harry’s name when she gets back to it. Was she really the only one who found Harry vapid and annoying? Sure she had softened a little towards him since she had arrived, but they were by no means friends. “While seemingly perfect in every way, Harry is actually-” it reads and she mutters to herself, “Ok, now we’re getting somewhere.” “While seemingly perfect in every way, Harry is actually scared of his own shadow.” “This can’t be real!” She once again scoffs at the book and looks up to the ceiling like Marie is going to talk back to her from beyond. “His exterior persona is very strong, both physically and in his personality, but it seems like he’s just waiting for that right person that he can really be vulnerable with and let them into what he’s really thinking. He’s looking for his Angie.” Now she’s just confused. Who the fuck is Angie? She almost doesn’t finish reading the page because honestly it’s just making her mad, but there’s only a few more lines. “Lots of tattoos, why so many tattoos? Thinks he’s funnier than he is. Flamboyant Harry is best.” And beside that last sentence is a star. She tries to hold in her laughter. At least it wasn’t a complete page of praise for Harry.

Thinking back to her knowledge of Harry, she realizes that Marie must have known him for about three years. Maybe more if he had come to visit before moving there officially. She agreed with Marie that Harry had a lot of tattoos and that he thinks he’s funnier than he truly is, but she was yet to see flamboyant Harry. She knew he painted his nails and wore rings, as well as interesting clothes, but she wouldn’t say he was particularly flamboyant for any of that. That comment definitely piqued her interest. When would Marie have seen Harry where he was being flamboyant?

Her eyes scan over the page once more and realize that this book is only for the most current year. Marie re-did the customers' outlines every year. So this was this past year before Marie died. She wondered where the other books might be and if Harry’s outline had changed over time and also if her name was in the one from when she had visited. That would be interesting to read. It’s strange to read a dead person’s private musings. To her knowledge, no one else alive knew the contents of these pages and these pages seemed especially personal since they spoke of people’s lives and who they were at their core. Maybe that’s why she didn’t hear the chime of the door this morning when the first customer arrived.

Her eyes don’t shoot up from the page until two ringed hands enter her eye line on the counter. The tanned skin, with the gold and silver dazzling rings on each finger and the cross tattoo all register in her mind as her eyes go wide. She snaps the book shut when her eyes meet Harry’s almost ivy green eyes - they’re darker in the foggy fall light streaming through the window today. She hadn’t even turned on the lights yet in the store, the natural light being enough for her this morning. The book is clutched in her hands as Harry’s smile widens to a grin of amusement.

“What have you got there?”

There’s no cover on the book so he can’t make anything out about it. He assumes it’s some novel she’s embarrassed of and has chosen to slip the cover off of to keep anonymity of it. This assumption is why his tone is so teasing and why she grimaces at him in response. Her cheeks have also tinted themselves, she’s flustered that the man she had just been conversing about with the book was now in the store.

“None of your business.”

“I guess not.” He replies easily when she responds curtly and places the book out of sight somewhere under the countertop.

“Why are you here again?” She’s avoiding his eye contact now, feeling like she’s been caught doing something she shouldn’t have been even though it was perfectly within her right to read something that now belonged to her.

Harry’s smile falters with her followed curt reply. Annoyance settling in, Harry straightens up and removes his hands from the counter. The familiar feeling doesn’t exactly feel nice, but familiarity is better than discomfort. “You wanted a list of my Paul Simon records? So you could order me one I didn’t already have?”

She looks at him curiously as the conversation comes back to her from yesterday morning and she nods. That conversation was real. “Oh yeah, I said that.” She replies, still not looking at him. “Okay,” she says when he doesn’t move or do anything. Her eyes widen, silently asking him to get on with it.

His hands shove into his pockets, searching around for a list he apparently had made. They come out empty. He pats over his jacket pockets and feels nothing but his phone and wallet, no list. “Fuck,” he mutters beneath his breath. She scratches at her eyebrow and sits back on her stool, seeming like she might be waiting awhile. After a few more minutes and no produced list, she sighs. “Do you just want to go next door and grab it since you obviously forgot it?”

“I didn’t forget it…” His voice is low and he shoots a glare at her, the annoyance that had come back had now doubled.

“You did, but it’s okay if you can’t admit that-”

“It must have fallen out of my pocket!” He insists.

She rolls her eyes and stands up. Walking to the front door, she looks on the ground and then a little ways outside. “I don’t see it, just go back and get it. You probably left it in your boudoir, it’s fine.” Her tone is a little less condescending now and more understanding. She forgets stuff all the time and she really wasn’t trying to be rude when he first came in. He had just startled her is all.

He turns around to face her. Her body is now completely out in the open area of the front of the store. His head tilts and one of his loose curls flops over his forehead while he takes in her appearance. “Why do you do that?”

She wets her lips and steps closer to him, more on her way back to the counter than anything. “Do what?” She’s oblivious to what he’s taken note of.

“When you have a conversation in English you’ll swap in some words that are French. They’re easy words to figure out and you don’t do it a lot, but you’ve done it enough times for me to notice.”

“Oh...I don’t know. I prefer French to English. It’s so much sexier.” She walks closer to him and utters her next sentence as she brushes past his shoulder. His gaze follows her every movement. “Would you prefer a girl to whisper in your ear, “let’s go back to my bedroom” or “let’s go back to my boudoir.”?” Her French accent hangs in the air with the word and compared to the hard American accent she had employed for ‘bedroom’, ‘boudoir’ sounds far more dirty this time than before.

A shiver rolls down Harry’s spine, but he doesn’t let it show. She shrugs her shoulders, “I think the answer is clear.” He clears his throat in response and a smile grows on her face. “Don’t you agree, monsieur?” She leans her head into her hand now that she’s behind the counter and looks up at him sweetly. He knows she’s teasing him now, her smile more of a sultry smirk.

“Piccola diavola,” his Italian rolls off his tongue and she squints at his words. She knows “devil” but the first word troubles her - it just means little. Her Italian really wasn’t strong and it hadn’t improved that much since she’d been in the little border town. But she also wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of asking what he had said. Harry chuckles at her confusion and relaxes now that he feels the playing field has leveled once again.

“So your list… Do you want to go grab it? Or if you can just list it off the top of your head? As enthralling as your conversation skills are, I actually don’t have all day.” She trails off again, her questions lilting from her mouth after regaining some composure.

“I wasn’t the one teasing about taking someone up to their bedroom,” he huffs. Her face colors with crimson. While she had been teasing him, she didn’t want to be called out for it.

“Wasn’t teasing…”

“So it was a serious offer?” He inquires with a lop-sided grin, changing the meaning behind her words in one fellow swoop.

“That’s not what I was saying! Shut up and give me your list.” Now her blush was all over her face and neck, and she was totally and completely flustered by Harry. She glanced down at her hands that were fiddling with a pen and paper, ready to write his words down.

“I can either shut up or tell you my list. But it’s sadly one or the other, love.”

She groans and takes her free hand to run it over her face. “Just tell me what you already have, Harry. Please.”

“Okay, okay,” he chuckles and spreads out his hands in front of them both. He crosses back to the counter and leans on it once more. They are in close proximity once again, only the counter between them now and she can feel his hot breath fan over her softly. Smells of wintergreen gum, her favorite.

She glances up at him and their eyes hook together for a moment before she tears hers away to look back at the paper. He rattles off a good amount of Paul Simon’s albums and she nods approvingly as she scribbles the names down. She would have to look through his discography to find the ones Harry didn’t have and she probably could’ve made Harry do that and then give her that list, but she didn’t. It was too late now to do that as well, so she’d just have to live with her decision.

When he finishes, she glances at him once again. His eyes are very large. A detail that isn’t really important about him is seared in her mind. They’re big and they’re staring right at her. His pupils are almost as big as his irises, it was interesting. Her eyes shift under his gaze after a beat and she straightens up again. While they went over his list, she had indulged in the close proximity, the mingling of warm breath and brushed hands as she scribbled and he pondered. She nods a farewell, “I’ll let you know when I order next, but I won’t say what album you’ll get. It will be a surprise.”

“I wouldn’t expect anything else from you,” his smile snaps back to his face and he scratches absentmindedly at his side. He hesitates before exiting the store. “I have a question.”

“Don’t need my permission.”

He emits a half-laugh, half-scoff from his parted lips. “Wasn’t asking for it...How come you never go out?”

She stares at him curiously, her head tilting to the right. “How would you know I don’t get out?” She challenges him.

“There’s only one pub in this little town and I’m your next door neighbor. I know.” He’s insistent on being right.

She scoffs, but only in an attempt to cover up her embarrassment. Her skin had finally cooled from all the excitement that had happened earlier and she wasn’t in the mood to grow red once again. Today was the first day she had ever felt flustered by Harry. It was annoying, it made her feel out of control. She liked to go out well enough, maybe more than the average person. But she’d only been in the little border town for a few months and going out hadn’t been on the top of her list of things to do. Sure, it would be nice to go get a drink out in the town, but she didn’t really have anyone to go with. Meeting people wasn’t hard in the town, but there weren't many people who were her age and she hadn’t particularly clicked with anyone where she would want to go out on the town with them. It was embarrassing to face the fact that she wasn’t flourishing as much as she had hoped. She was happy, but being confronted with the truth that she hadn’t gone out yet dampened her belief in her success in the little border town.

“I - It’s not at the top of my list of priorities,” she stutters, her chin raising a little in indignance.

One of his shoulders shrugs and Harry makes a little face as if he was indifferent to her answer, even though she knew much better than that. Harry always wanted to get a reaction out of her, maybe that was all he gained from their interactions - entertainment. She didn’t know, but she didn’t feel like giving him the satisfaction and left it at that. His eyes meet hers again, his stare far more intense now. “Ciao, diavola.” He simpers, repeating the little nickname. It was far more sultry of a nickname than ‘Shrimp’ but she wasn’t going to complain. She rolls her eyes in response, the only correct one at that.

That night, she found herself feeling pulled to journey down to the pub. It was on the Italian side and like she had acknowledged to Harry, she hadn’t been. She wouldn’t admit to anyone, especially not Harry, that his question had been what had pushed her towards the establishment when night fell. Yet, here she was. Her pants were dark red silk that matched the black tank top with red embellishments that she wore over her chest - the only part of her it really covered. Her boots were a matching black with gold metal bits, they were knock-off horsebit Gucci shoes, the closest she could get to the real thing with her modest budget. She was having to be more frugal lately, after buying her car here in September, she had really seen how little money she truly had.

The heels of her boots clicked against the cobblestones as she stalked up to the front of the bar. There was happy chatter seeping out the open door, the warm but dimmed light also flooding out along with the sounds of people within. Taking a deep breath and fiddling with the waistband of her pants for a second, she made her way into the bar. Stepping off the deep end and making the plunge. She knew there was nothing to be afraid of, but after months of not going there, she felt a little sense of apprehension now.

The warmth was the most surprising bit of the bar that she felt when she stepped past the threshold. Some Italian song was buzzing below the words of the patrons and she smiled at the automatic welcome she felt upon entering.

At the tables, there was a mix of younger and older patrons. At the bar, there wasn’t much of anyone. The young bartender leans across the bar to talk to another man, who had dark brown wavy hair and a dark linen shirt on. He’s seated at the bar and his back is to her so she can’t make out anymore than that. She doesn’t notice the myriad of tattoos gracing the patron’s arm that rests casually on the bar as he laughs at something the bartender had said, just for him.

She smiles, thinking it’s a cute little flirtation between the two and hates that she has to go over to break it up. Her movement gets the bartender’s attention easily and has the patron glancing her way as well. The smile she had once had falters off of her face and her eyes go wide at the realization of who she has settled herself beside. She had left a seat open between her and the man, but now she wished she had chosen a spot across the bar and simply flagged down the bartender. Better yet, she wished she had stayed home. As her smile falls away, Harry’s only grows wider. He’s grinning down at her as he moves his whole body to face her.

“Ciao!” The bartender starters, not noticing her discomfort at seeing Harry. He begins to ask what she would like in Italian, but her eyes widen even further. He’s speaking far too fast for her and she blushed in embarrassment. In her fluster, she forgets to even try French and she just stares dumbfoundedly at the handsome man behind the bar, who’s now looking at her with great curiosity. Harry has watched the entire thing and chuckles behind his glass. She has no attention span left to allow her to even try and guess what he’s drinking.

He interjects for her, actually saving her any more embarrassment, surprisingly. “She doesn’t speak Italian. She’s from the French side and new in town, so she hasn’t been able to refine her Italian.” The bartender gives a smile and nod of understanding in her way and she wishes she knew what Harry had just said. Whatever it is makes the bartender switch to French for her and her jaw goes from being dropped back into a normal position.

“What can I get for you, mademoiselle?” He transitions smoothly and she smiles, his French accent sounding practically perfect. She’s recomposed herself, but Harry is still watching her intently, like a reality television show that he can’t wait for the trainwreck finale to occur on.

After she orders, the bartender gives her a wink and then walks off to get what he needs to begin preparing her drink. Harry slides over, eliminating the courteous one seat between them. Her eyes watch the movement and she refrains from the letting out the sigh festering in her chest. She really had hoped he would not be here tonight, at least that’s what she believed. She truly felt embarrassed that the night after Harry had accused her of never going out, he had seen her out. But it also was nice not to be sitting in the bar alone. It seemed that Harry had been sitting alone at the bar before she had come in, but she also wasn’t Harry and didn’t know how much enjoyment she would have gotten out of being alone.

“I see my words had some effect on you.” He says out of the corner of his mouth after running his tongue over the bottom of his lip. Her scoff once again dies in her throat because she knows he’s right and he knows it too. There is no being proud right now. He essentially caught her red handed.

“Thought I’d come out and see what all the fuss was about. I see you’re alone tonight, but I assume that’s how most nights go.”

“You should know by now that is simply not true.”

“Just because you leave with someone doesn’t mean you come with someone.”

“I guess…” He trails off.

She picks up when he doesn’t seem to have any more of a response. “How do you even meet people here? Isn’t it all locals?”

“Not always. Not all of the people here are locals tonight,” He scans the crowd. “She’s visiting...So is she...that whole group actually. Look French. So we’ve got a group from Nice tonight…” He looks a bit more. “Eh, that looks like it tonight, but still. It’s plenty.” He finishes with a smirk and she grimaces, understanding the meaning behind his words.

The bartender returns with her White Russian, which Harry had cocked his head at, but had kept his opinion to himself for once. Expecting Roman to return to their conversation, Harry turns his attention back to him, but he is only greeted with the side of his head because Roman is still staring at Y/N. He coos something to her in French, that Harry can’t pick up and his nostrils flare when she emits a giggle following their exchange. The two people he was last talking to were now ignoring him to talk to each other. How rude.

After another moment without their attention, he huffs loudly. Roman seems too entranced in Y/N to notice, but her eyes slide over to him. “Yes?” She inquires, albeit disdainfully.

Harry isn’t sure what to say to her now that he’s gained her attention. He was on his second drink and her stare has made his mind go blank. All he had wanted was for her to stop flirting with Roman so that she’d pay attention to him. But he hadn’t thought of his next step yet. He takes a sip of his beer to grant him a little more time and she rolls her eyes at his action. His mind rattles through possible things to say, but every single one is coming up as not good enough.

“I used to be in a band.”

Her head tilts and she swivels more to Harry. His comment is unexpected and rather intriguing. She had expected something annoying or rude. Truly she had just expected him to say “Nothing” once he had swallowed his drink so he could distract her from enjoying her night.

“You were in a band?” She asks incredulously, her voice pitching slightly higher than normal. While Harry was many things, including handsome, she just didn’t think he had the right persona to be in a band. He dressed like a grandfather most days and he tended to a little shoe shop, he didn’t come off as a guy who would enjoy traveling around performing. The constant praise would be on brand though, she conceded.

Harry nods and bites back his smile, knowing he had struck the perfect chord. “I was...it only took off in the UK but we were pretty popular.” He boasts.

“So what do you play?”

Harry’s eyes widen, expecting more of a question about the name of the band or something. “Well, it was, like, a boy band…” He says.

She was taking a sip of her drink and she contained her little laugh behind her glass. Another hum as she swallows the liquid that burns her throat a bit. “Oh. Interesting. So no instruments.”

“Well I can play a bit of guitar and piano!” He adds quickly, seeing her eyes shift away from him, like she thinks the conversation is over. “I was thinking of trying a solo thing, but then plans changed...”

“And now you’re here?”

He echoes her, affirming the question. “Now I’m here and I’m not leaving.”

“You don’t miss it then?”

“Didn’t say that. I miss it at times, but this is where my life took me and I’m happy to be here. Maybe happier than I ever was in the band.” His eyes stare at the liquid in his glass and he swirls it lightly, determined to study the way it moves as he ponders something quite personal to him. He never really talked about his past with anyone here. Saying he was in a band and retrospecting that time are two very different things to share with someone. She’s just watching him now, not trying to make a quip or bug him. His demeanor shows that’s not something he’s very interested in hearing right now.

She experimentally puts a finger on his knee when it seems that he’ll never raise his gaze from his glass. His eyes move down to the tiny pressure he feels and sees her painted nail poking in to him. His tongue darts across his lower lip as he raises his head to meet her eyes. He notices the sparkle in them, she finds amusement in the childish gesture and so does he.

“I do miss the stage though,” he admits, smiling more now. “Performing. It was like nothing else.” Instead of a sad state of mind, his look is far more wistful now and she actually feels the smile growing on her face.

“You’ll have to sing for me sometime, then.” She says resolutely after taking the last bit of her drink and then pushing the glass across the bar. Roman had wandered off, much to Harry’s pleasure, but now they both needed another round so she was looking for him.

Harry slides over a chair so that they’re sat side by side. He had originally done it to reach across her for a napkin, but then hadn’t retreated to his original seat after he was successful. They talk as they drink, but most of it seems to be flirtatious teasing even if neither of them recognize that fully. Harry just wanted her attention earlier and now he found that he wanted to keep talking to her all night. It was a Friday and usually he would be looking for someone to take home. The group of women at a table that he had observed were visitors would be a perfect place to start his quest, but that wasn’t on his mind. He liked watching the different shades of blush Y/N’s face kept turning as she drank more and how silly she was getting with each passing drink.

She was enjoying her time out, she had only gotten wine drunk in the confines of her little home since she’d been in the little border town. And that endeavour was all by herself. It was much more fun when you had someone to talk to, so joking around with Harry was a nice surprise. She no longer felt embarrassed about showing up after he had teased her for never going out earlier today. Now she felt empowered, like she could come to the bar whenever she pleased. He was nicer than she had realized. His hand was quick to encircle her back respectfully when she laughed a little too hard at a joke and began to tip off her stool. His smile was genuine and his eyes didn’t flit over her body more than once. His jokes were funnier than she had first thought or maybe that was just the alcohol clouding her mind, that one she wasn’t sure about. But, truthfully, Harry was exceeding expectations tonight and being a stand up human being for once, in her eyes.

A couple at the end of the bar, locals, watched on as the shoemaker and the bookkeeper threw back their heads in boisterous laughter and placed their hands on each other chastely. The older women smiled to themselves as Y/N smacked Harry’s bicep after an especially cheeky joke he told her. They were going to have a field day with this interaction once they told their friends tomorrow morning.

After drink three, she definitely felt drunk. Not completely out of it and can’t walk drunk, but I haven’t drank anything stronger than wine in months so three cocktails are kind of hitting me drunk. And because of that buzz that’s enclosed her mind and body, it makes perfect sense to her that Harry’s hand is resting casually on her knee as they talk. It also makes perfect sense to her to cross her legs, causing two things to happen. Harry’s hand shifts up further on her thigh and her boot is now dangling right next to Harry’s shin. The fabric of his cream linen trousers look especially soft and so the next logical move in her mind is to rub her foot against the fabric. She hooks around her foot easily and the patent leather of her shoe slips softly against the pant leg that flows over Harry’s calf.

He hums lowly at the feeling, but makes no other notion to acknowledge what she is doing. After the hum he gets back to the story he’s telling her about his boat. She had been extremely interested in the boat initially, but not she was transfixed on the feeling of the fabric slipping past her boot. When he shifts his leg, absentmindedly or not, she almost squeaks because this movement has Harry’s foot brushing around her ankle. The footsy was occurring without any acknowledgement of it besides small sounds the two had made in their chests. No knowing looks, just the presence of each other’s bodies against one another.

He had switched to a Manhattan after his second beer for some reason that she didn’t ask, but he was enjoying it nonetheless. When she slipped her foot against his calf, it had sent a spark of electricity from the point of contact up to his alcohol muddled head. It felt nice so he went with it.

Around midnight the two of them were practically in each other’s laps, nursing their fourth round. Brains a million miles away while their glassy eyes stared at each other. Harry’s arm nestled around her waist while hers played with the stir stick in his glass. Their heads inches away, closer than they’d ever been before.

Somehow they decided they should walk home about then. Maybe Harry had checked his phone and decided he was done. Maybe she had glanced at the clock above the bar and realized she needed to go to bed. Either way, they slammed down the last bits of their drinks and stumbled into the street. With only each other to hold them up, they had some trouble gaining their balance. They could walk just fine if they wanted to be serious, but Harry kept trying to step literally on her toes and she kept throwing all her weight into his side. Both of their actions would cause them to stumble one way or another along the empty streets. Their blurred minds thankfully didn’t get them lost, but the travel time back to their places was far greater than the travel time to the bar initially.

Finally arriving at the border of Italy and France, their shops and homes, she stared up at Harry under the glow of the streetlamp across the street. His hair looked more dark brown than his usual caramel chestnut in the light. His linen outfit billowed across his pectorals that were exposed. A tan golden color that he seemed to maintain from his frequent runs and trips on his boat. His jaw had a bit more stubble on it now, his morning shave no longer sleek on his skin. His mustache was still the most prominent bit of facial hair he had and she wondered what he might look like without it. She also thought if she’d ever kissed a man with a mustache, her mind was pretty sure she hadn’t.

As she stared, she moved from his side and took a step closer to her door. His hand reached out and grabbed her wrist, stopping her and bringing her attention to his eyes. He dropped her hand and stepped closer to her. They had been laughing about some weird encounter she had in Nice the other week. But now their laughter had faded out, the conversation all but forgotten.

“Hi.” She says meekly.

“Hi,” Harry laughs.

“I had fun tonight,” she muses and takes a step forward. She began swinging her arms back and forth, rocking on her feet. She felt antsy now that it was so quiet. The silence made her realize it was really just her and Harry together right now. Which wasn’t unusual, they had been alone together plenty of times. Maybe it was the time of night, but it felt far more intimate to her this time which made her squirm a little. Why was she nervous with Harry right now?

Harry nods and laughs again at her actions. “Yeah, you’re not so bad.”

Neither of them realized the proximity of their bodies until her hand swung a little higher and hit Harry’s hip bone. “Oh! Sorry!” She moves to take a step back, but Harry grabs her hand once again and tugs her even closer. Bringing them chest to chest under the lamp light. Her eyes flicker between where their bodies touch and Harry’s face. He’s looking down at her sweetly, gently. She feels safe with the way he’s looking at her. The warmth radiating from him was a nice contrast to the dark cold of night. The open expanse of skin that lived between the two sides of his mostly unbuttoned shirt seemed to have the most heat coming off of it. He had a jade cross that hung between the two muscles and she almost reached out to play with it. If it hadn’t been so dark and she hadn’t been so inebriated she would have realized the color matched his eyes almost exactly.

He’s not quite sure what he’s doing, but for some reason it feels like he might kiss her. The mood that was set by their surroundings made it sound right. Romantic even. Her lips look precious too, plump and puckered, flushed from alcohol and the brisk night air. They look a little glossy too from the last time she had wet them. He wanted to feel them for himself. His head ducks to move his lips to touch hers.

Upon registering his movement, she moves her hand from his grasp and places it on his chest, causing him to take a small step back.

“I think...I think this should be goodnight, Harry.” She breathes out. She’s trying to clear her mind enough to have conviction in her decision.

After a little intake of air, less than a gasp, Harry agrees, running a hand through his hair, “Yeah, you’re probably right.”

Her hand slips from his warm chest, immediately curling in on itself to maintain the warmth his body had just provided. She watches her tendons in her hand ripple before looking back at Harry with heavy eyes. He doesn’t seem to want to make eye contact with her, but she’s determined to leave on a good note.

“Thank you, Harry.” He looks up from beneath his lashes at his name, like a shy toddler. “You gave me the push to face a fear of mine.” With her final words she crosses the little distance between them once again and places a chaste kiss to his cheek. Immediately, his cheek flushes and she can feel the heat beneath her lips, as well as the light prickle of his stubble. Harry swallows, causing his Adam's apple to bob quickly, at the contact. His senses get overloaded with the sweet kiss and the smell of her perfume. It all swims through his consciousness.

She smiles as she pulls away and then turns to let herself into her place without another word. Once unlocked, she gives one last glance to Harry who’s also busying himself with opening his door. She doesn’t see that his free hand is caressing over his cheek where her lips had just been.

The next day, she woke up and groaned feeling the stiffness in her body. Especially her head. Oh god, her head. It was like she was back in college, but worse because she wasn’t as young. At least she didn’t have to roll out of bed for an 8 am lecture. For that, she was thankful. Still, the pounding needed to stop or subside at least. Grumbling, she threw her legs off the side of her bed, the fuzzy socks she had slipped on in her drunken stupor settled on the hardwood. She dragged her body to her window and raised the shade. Her window was fogged from the difference in temperature outside and in her room. Kneeling down, she began to pull open the window, in need of the cool fresh air on her clammy skin. Three drinks, or was it four? She couldn’t remember, either way, it was too many.

Her eyes glanced around the view of the window. It wasn’t much since it was so close to the building right next door. Peaking up, she could see the already clouded sky. To the left she could see the street and to the right was more buildings. The scene most easily accessible was the window right across from her. The shade was mostly closed, a little bit of the floor could be seen where Harry hadn’t lowered it completely. It was just the same hardwood as what she sat on staring back at her. She sat there, breathing in the crisp morning air. After a night of drinking, she usually woke up rather early, today was no different.

It dawned on her, far too slowly, that a pair of feet had entered the plain hardwood scene she had been staring at outside her window. A tiny stage now filled with two matching characters. The pair of feet were tanned and large. Little tattoos seemed to be sprinkled both on the toes and the ankles of the feet. She couldn’t read them even if she tried. But upon realizing what these feet might be doing, she had been discouraged from staring any longer. Still, her brain was foggy and her body was not nearly quick enough to hide her from view as the owner of the feet did something to open his shade as well. Then, once again, like deja vu, she was staring at her naked neighbor. Thankfully, this time, he had briefs adorning his hips to keep covering the part of him that would keep her up for weeks trying to forget again. The briefs were, just that. Brief. Low on the hips and barely touching his thighs, it seemed they really only existed to keep that one appendage covered. Still, she had to tear her eyes away from the lower half of his body and let the embarrassment wash over her when she met his eyes.

The knowing smirk of his has him nibbling at the inside of his cheek. She had been checking him out. It was a nice confidence boost after last night. The awkwardness of her stopping him from kissing her had him spiraling in his mind when he went to bed. He didn’t know why he had even tried to kiss her in the first place, probably just because he was drunk. Yeah, he was drunk and feeling needy on a friday night. That’s what it was and she had been there.

He’d have to thank her today for putting a stop to that colossal mistake. They were barely just friends, he hated to think what would happen if he’d done something so reckless as to kiss her out of the blue. Still, he couldn’t shake the thought in the back of his mind that he had gotten the vibe from somewhere. Why else would his drunken mind tell him to kiss her under the glow of the lamp light. He thought back to the bar and what they had talked about. He wouldn’t categorize it as overly flirty. He thought back to their physical interactions at the bar, okay, maybe his hand on her thigh and her playing with his drink was a little flirtatious. But that could be boiled down to him being close to hear her in the bar and her idle fingers wanting something to do while she was drunk. The footsy, though. He wasn’t sure if he could explain that one away. Instead, he would choose to ignore it. If he didn’t think about it, did it actually happen? Was it something he had to worry about? Not in his mind.

Returning his focus to the girl in the window across from him, his smirk was now fully fleshed out on his face. She was still sitting on her knees as Harry looked down at her and if they were in the same room this might have seemed like a rather compromising position. Her cheeks were still red, noticing the difference in height, she clambered to her feet.

“G’morning,” Harry’s voice is groggy and deep. Scratchy almost from the alcohol he had drank last night. It rings through her ears lowly and seems to have her blushing even more. It’s a different feeling than how his voice used to make her feel.

“Hey,” She clears her throat before responding, not wanting her morning voice to crack in front of Harry. Usually she would talk to herself a bit or sing along to her music before going downstairs, not wanting her first customers to hear her as if she just woke up. For some reason, she makes a little wave along with her greeting, feeling especially awkward at this moment. Harry chuckles and repeats her motion. His large hands mimicking the same daunting motion makes her laugh and releases some of the nervous energy she had been holding in her body.

“Fancy seeing you here,” he openly flirts, placing one hand on his naked torso and the other against the frame of the window, leaning towards her. His movement flexes just about every muscle in his body and she keeps her eyes trained on his face, determined not to be caught gawking once more.

A roll of her eyes and she’s back to staring straight into his green ones that he’s still blinking awake. “It’s almost like we’re neighbors.”

He scrunches his nose at her deadpan. “You’re no fun,” he mutters.

She sighs, “I’m fucking hungover after last night…” and runs a hand through her tousled hair.

Her foot rests itself over her other, causing her hip to just out slightly. The movement of her body that accentuated her curves and her words have Harry blushing now. The red flowers at the center of his chest and begins to spread up his neck and cheeks. He’s once again presented with the almost kiss last night.

“Big night out for you,” he laughs, “I’ll admit I don’t usually drink that much, bit of a lightweight myself.”

She only hums in response, her fingers beginning to twiddle with the hem of her t-shirt. It reminds her of what she is precisely dressed in. The big t-shirt and tiny pajama shorts that Harry can’t even see are the only things on her body besides the socks on her feet. She glances down at her legs and takes in the expanse of fleshy skin that is showing just below the shirt. Harry’s eyes follow hers and admires the skin there, wondering what it would feel like underneath his big hands.

“I should probably start getting ready for the day,” She says finally, shaking herself from the random thoughts flitting around her mind about bare thighs and the man across from her. “Are you open today?”

Harry emits a noise from the back of his throat at her question. He draws his arm back from the window and stands up straight. His head tilts as he thinks about her question, his mind still muddled this morning.

“Er..no, actually. I was planning on going out on the boat today, switching my closed day to today instead of tomorrow. Why?”

“I’m in need of shoe repair,” she smiles, her eyes catching the glimmer of the sun starting to peak out. Harry swears it’s her eyes genuinely sparkling on their own accord. “But if you’re out today, it can wait.” She begins to walk away from the window to go to another room in her apartment.

“No!” Harry steps forward, but is restricted by the screen, which keeps him from falling out of his window. She swivels around, looking at him curiously. “I can - you can just come over. I’ll fix it up for you before I head out.”

“Really?” She’s truly surprised that Harry would do such a nice thing for her. She knew they were getting along better, but for him to open shop just for her repair seemed overly nice.

“I mean,” and Harry’s once again blushing under her gaze and he’s hoping she can’t see it. “What are neighbors for?”

“I guess,” she’s still unsure. He seems like he’s nervous, his body tenses and one of his hands twisted in his curls. Harry’s so weird. “Thanks.”

She jogs the short distance from her front door to Harry’s once she’s ready. The pair of deep teal almost navy loafers she needed new soles in - she was pretty sure - in hand. A red pinstripe blouse half buttoned falling over her figure perfectly, hugging the right spots and flowing over the others. She’s in white jeans today that are flared slightly but also cropped. As it gets closer to Halloween she keeps having to remind herself not to dress festive and it’s a struggle everyday.

When she reaches the door, it doesn’t open. The cream door doesn’t budge as she tempts the handle with her free hand. She looks between the handle and the inside of the shop. Her eyes search for Harry’s figure. She had been inside his shop only a handful of times, never for a repair before. Maybe less than a handful, once to check it out and once again when she thought she needed a new pair of shoes and then decided against it. Oh, and that one time she went over to yell at him about something. Maybe the planters, maybe the shade, she couldn’t remember anymore.

Now that she thought about it, she had been in the bookshop once more. Two and a half years ago when she had visited the little border town for the first time. It was a little fuzzy for a memory, but she was sure she had at least peaked into the shoe shop after her lengthy visit with Marie the second day there. It looked just as it did now, maybe it used to be a little more vibrant, but she couldn’t be sure. She remembered an older man in the shop greeting her in Italian and her offering her sad ‘Ciao’. Back then she was even worse at Italian. He had looked at her with kind eyes and a sweet smile. It was a similar lopsided grin that she had now grown accustomed to on another man’s face. After beckoning her over to him the old man had turned away from her and shouted into the back of the store in quick Italian. It blew over her head completely. There must have been someone in the back of the shop who he had talked to. She was sure of it, because after she had perused the cute boots and shoes he kept, she saw a swish of hair coming around the counter. It was just as she was turning around to exit the shop, after she had bid farewell to the man she now connected as Joe. Whoever it was had long hair and was tall, slinking out into the main shop floor. The mysterious stranger was whoever Joe had shouted to in the back.

Y/N wasn’t the quickest when it came to timelines and how people could change over time. She didn’t connect the year she had visited with the year of someone else's arrival or the same chestnut waves cascading around someone’s face, just now much shorter. It made perfect sense who would be in the back of the store, but for some reason the idea of time and hair length were standing in this girl’s way. Oh well, maybe Harry would spell it out to her someday.

Harry finally rounds the counter that separated the back room to the front. The shoe shop was set up a little different from the bookstore. Her counter was right when you came in while Harry’s was about halfway through the shop. He shakes his head and laughs at her expression. The sound brings her out of her memory as well as a grimace on her face.

“Sorry, I was a million years away.”

“I’m pretty sure it’s ‘a million miles away’, love.” Harry continues chuckling while correcting the girl in front of him.

She holds up her pair of shoes, ignoring his teasing. “Fix my shoes, shoe man.”

His smile drops and he walks back from the door. His feet taking back steps as he beckons her into the interior of the shop. When they reach the corner, he takes the shoes from her hands and places them between their bodies. The teal loafers stare up at them. Harry inspects them, a serious expression falling over his features. His brows scrunch together slightly, the wrinkles in his forehead growing more prominent as he examines the shoes. Large hands reach out and begin to finger over the patent leather on the top and the leather soles. After a few minutes of silent deliberation, he places down one of the shoes and then holds the other up as if to showcase it.

“These,” he juts out the shoe in his hand, “need new soles. What did you do to ‘em?”

“I wear them a lot.” She insists while Harry looks on quizzically.

“I’ve never seen you wear these.”

Her brow quirks at his comment. “I wore them a lot before I got here,” she corrects. “They’ve been feeling wonky every time I try to wear them, must be because they need new soles.”

Harry nods, now satisfied with her answer. He hums, regarding the teal shoe in his hand once again. “Alright.”

She looks at him confused once again. “Alright what? Can you fix them?” What does he mean by ‘Alright’? “I’ve honestly missed wearing them these past few months.”

Harry bites his tongue, a quip ready to be voiced. He’d gotten so used to fighting with her, he was confused how it had slipped away all so easily. His fear of them not talking if they stopped fighting didn’t seem to come to fruition so he could rest easy on that front. But now he was going to have to retrain his brain not to be rude after every comment Y/N made.

“Yeah, of course.” He sighs, placing the shoe next to its mate and then turning his face to her. She had been chewing on her bottom lip, actually worried for her shoes. They really were her favorites. She’d had them forever and it would be heartbreaking if they had to be thrown out. If she couldn’t wear them though she was almost sure she’d just let them collect dust in her closet rather than dispose of them if it really came down to it.

“But it’s like a good amount of my day to replace soles…”

Her face falls, but she tries to hide it. She knew Harry was doing a favor by taking a look right now. If he could fix them it didn’t matter when he did it. What he says next though truly throws her off. No normal enemy-ship turned somewhat friendship overnight would engage in what Harry was about to propose. If any such relationship other than her and Harry actually existed.

“Do you want to come out on my boat today?” His brow arches, his lips in a soft smile, he’s being genuine.

“Why would I do that?” Her brows raise along with her voice, taken off guard by his suggestion.

“More fun waiting for me to fix your shoes on a boat than in your shop.” He says simply before taking the shoes and placing them in a little cubby hole behind the counter for safe keeping. “Trust me, you’ll love it.” Her expression doesn’t change. “Just say yes,” He pleads now.

She sighs, “Fine.” All of the reasons not to go out on Harry’s boat are at the forefront of her mind, but she still finds herself saying yes easily. His pleading really wasn’t necessary to get her to agree. The bookstore could live with being closed today, it wasn’t going to hurt anyone.

#harry styles fanfic #harry styles fan fic #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x you #harry styles x reader #harry styles fluff #harry styles fan fiction #harry styles angst #harry styles smut #eventually both of those will bop up #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles oneshot #harry styles one shot #harry styles imagine #feedback pls ❤️#me putting this uo at 12:30 am oops

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swiftgronmasterpost · 4 years ago

Text

GRYLES!!!

Rebuilding the Gryles Timeline expertly crafted here because I’m always afraid of broken links and people going private and losing data.

Not only is there a ton of great evidence that these guys were dating such as Harry leaving Nick’s place in the morning wearing the same clothes as he’d worn the night before, I’ve also got a friend who works in the UK music industry and she did tell me these guys did date. Nick is 100% out as gay so it really does all add up.

Gryles very obviously takes place during Haylor, debunking Harry as the 1989 muse, and if it’s not Harry you do have to wonder... who with green eyes and an obsession with Alice and Wonderland was heavily featured in Taylor’s life and then disappeared before 1989 - a breakup album about someone with green eyes who seems to relate to Alice in Wonderland drops?

You get it.

Anyway here’s Gryles:

This is a little game I like to call "let's talk about Nick/Harry dates and how they line up with Harry leaving and entering the country".

06. February 5th 2012 - Harry and Nick go to a Super Bowl party together.

One Direction in Sweden February 12th - 14th. (Came home by train on the 14th.)

07. February 14, 2012 - VALENTINE'S DAY!

08. February 18, 2012 - Stella McCartney Fashion show with Nick's mom.

09. February 21, 2012 - Brit Awards!

10. February 22, 2012 - They attend a party together. (Nick might have been DJing?)

11. February 23, 2012 - Harry spotted leaving Nick Grimshaw's flat in the same outfit he was wearing the night before.

The morning of February 23rd One Direction flies to the US for their tour and doesn't return to the UK until April 24th, 2012.

This trip is supposedly where Haylor 1.0 happens. Harry supposedly meets Taylor at the KCA’s on March 31 and they fall for one another. Taylor supposedly goes to NYC to be with Harry (even though she spends the whole time with Dianna) during the first week of April. Then they supposedly enter into a long distance relationship that is broken up because Harry was seen out with another girl.

All the while the last thing Harry does before he leaves the UK is spend the night with Nick and then the first thing he does is goes back to him.

Yeah, I’m not buying Haylor 1.0 it seems pretty clear to me that Taylor wanted to pin I Knew You Were Trouble on Harry as a big pop anthem to support her transition to pop. I think it’s even possible they faked Harry being spotted out with that girl or perhaps he and Nick had some kind of agreement. I’m not saying Gryles was always exclusive (they may have been), but regardless I don’t see Red era Taylor being cool enough to share her boyfriend with a man.

12. April 25, 2012 - Nick and Harry out together the morning after he returned.

Harry also calls into Nick's radio show on the 25th and confirms that the first thing he did upon returning on the 24th was meet up with Nick and Matt Fincham for drinks so one can theorize he probably crashed w/ Nick that night.

Harry goes to LA by himself on May 1st and returns to the UK on the 5th.

May 5th, 2012 - Harry out with Annie Mac and Nick. (Thanks to my anon for clueing me into this little gem of information.)

13. May 7th, 2012 - Harry and Nick out with friends

One Direction goes to Sweden from May 10th to May 16th.

14. May 17, 2012 - The Sun reports Harry driving Nick to work.

Also out shopping together

15. May 19, 2012 - Nick posts a picture to his instragram from the Kanye West/Jay Z show at the O2.

Who cares right? So he went to see a show. But then.

Hey guess what happened the very next day? One Direction flew to Boston on May 20th, 2012 to start their summer tour in the U.S. They're gone from the 20th to July 3rd.

16. July 5, 2012 - Nick and Harry attend the launch of Tinie Tempah's shoes line.

There's some downtime and vacation time here where Harry disappears for a week while Louis is France w/ Eleanor, Niall goes to Spain, Liam and Danielle are on vacation, etc and then One Direction goes back to work July 11th recording and doing photo shoots.

17. July 19, 2012 - Harry goes out with Nick and Aimee and tweets this.

18. August 10, 2012 - Harry attends Nick's 28th birthday party at La Bodega Negra.

Pregaming before the party!

Outside La Bodega Negra

19. August 11, 2012 - Primrose Hill picnic

20. August 20, 2012 - One Direction visit Nick at BBCR1 to announce their headlining of the BBC Radio 1 Teen Choice Awards.

21. August 25, 2012 -

Nick and Harry go to lunch. (Would also like to point out that they are switching places and that Harry is going to the driver's side of Nick's car :333)

and then to Reading Festival

then Nick accompanies Harry to Liam's party at Funky Buddha

and then they leave together and go see Rita Ora at G.A.Y.

22. August 26, 2012 - The morning after, Nick tweets a shot of his hangover breakfast from Harry's Range Rover (Nick owns a Mercedes).

then a lunch date with several people

They spend this entire day together and this is the day the pics of them in the grocery store are taken where Nick buys Harry a banana, etc

and then Harry drops Nick off for his nighttime show and picks him up again to take him to/stay with him while Nick DJs at Wonderland nightclub.

(Although, lbr. Given what we learn from Nick's final nighttime show about how often Harry hung around the studio, he probably never left.)

Wonderland! (the only time that fucking song has any bearing on Harry and he’s off being a MLM king)

23. August 28, 2012 - Leaving Nick's flat

spotted in the studio w/ Nick at BBCR1

24. August 30, 2012 - Harry films the Breakfast Show advert for Nick's #Team Grimmy commercial and then they go to Mahiki Club that night.

25. August 31, 2012 - Harry goes with Nick to his DJ gig at Paradise

and then to karaoke afterward

The lo and behold One Direction flies to Florida the very next day to film their Pepsi commercial. They're gone until September 11th.

on September 6, 2012 Taylor has Sushi with Ed and Harry in LA supposedly signaling the start of Haylor 2.0 as if Harry is not fully boyfriends with Nick.

26. September 12, 2012 - Nick's final nighttime show. (this was a gif of them being cute and playing around but I was too lazy to bring it over, you get it they’re touchy, flirty, and playful):

Nick and Aimee go on vacation together from the 14th to the 18th.

27. September 18, 2012 - This dude says he spotted Harry Styles waiting in arrivals at the airport while waiting for his sister's flight to arrive insinuating perhaps Harry was traveling with Nick and Aimee:

28. September 20, 2012 - iTunes Festival where One Direction was interviewed by Nick and Annie Mac

29. Harry calls into Nick's first Breakfast Show on September 25, 2012. Then they meet up after to see Perks of Being a Wallflower together. I can't find the tweets from the ladies who saw them there, but Nick and Emma Watson confirm later that Harry was indeed there.

30. September 29, 2012 - Spotted at Waitrose together and then the following morning Nick regales his listeners with the tale of a Spinach pie he made for a ~friend~.

31. October 5th (or 6th?), 2012 - Preparation for Ladz FM

But also on October 5th, Taylor is on Nick’s show:

32. October 6, 2012 - Ladz FM

Supposedly on this show Nick gives Harry hell for Taylor, the Haylor timeline I like puts it this way:

“One Direction and Harry make an appearance on Nick’s show the following day, and they talk about Taylor on-air for 4 minutes straight. Nick teases Harry by saying “Ol’ Swiftyyyy” over and over again when she is brought up in the conversation.” Yup that’s right, Nick was giving his own boyfriend shit about his fake girlfriend 😭😭😭 this is why I fuck w Nick’s energy.

then they went for lunch in notting hill (no Taylor? why not Harry aren’t you so happy to be back with her and in love w her?)

33. October 7, 2012 - BBC Teen Choice Awards

One Direction doing promotion for the new album.

Paris - October 11, 2012

Ireland - October 12, 2012

Manchester - October 16, 2012

Leeds - October 17, 2012

34. October 19, 2012 - Lunch in London

October 31 - One Direction in Spain

Early November One Direction goes to the US for Ellen, X Factor USA, and The Today Show. After The Today Show Harry flies to LA while the rest of One Direction goes back to London. Harry writes a song with the lead singer of Snow Patrol and rumors start flying about him hooking up with Taylor Swift.

Harry arrives back in London on November 16, 2012.

35. November 16, 2012 - Children in Need benefit concert

November 30th One Direction goes back to the U.S. for one off shows and MSG show. Haylor happens.

Harry returns to London on December 8th via Taylor's private jet and plays the Jingle Ball with the rest of One Direction. Harry and Taylor tour the UK together until December 15th when Taylor leaves for France. Meanwhile Dianna heads out on a mystery 14 hour long flight on December 14th.

36. December 16, 2012 - Roast Dinner!

One Direction returns to the U.S. for the X Factor USA finale. Harry stays in the U.S. and goes on a ski vacation with Taylor Swift, Justin Bieber, and Selena Gomez.

He returns to the UK on December 24th.

37. December 25, 2012 - Late night Christmas leftovers. (Yes they’re spending Christmas together, that’s boyfriend behavior!)

Harry and Nick both leave London on the 29th (Nick for Puerto Rico and Harry for NYC) Harry spends New Years with Taylor and Nick spends New Years with Pixie, Aimee, and the rest of the hipster crew. Harry and Taylor then fly to Gorda British Virgin Islands where they are supposed to vacation until the 7th. Taylor leaves on the 4th and Harry goes to Necker Island alone. Tabloids say Harry and Taylor have broken up.

And that’s it for Haylor!

Harry arrives back in the UK on January 8th

38. January 8, 2013 - Sushi lunch date! (tweet confirming nick was also there.)

and harry with the girl who tweeted it.

39. January 10, 2013 - Tinie Tempah's GQ dinner.

The party was for people on the British GQ best dressed list (Nick was on it. Harry was not.)

Jessie J puts a picture of the table cards from her table on instagram. Harry doesn't have one which, you know. I'll just be here imagining him as Nick's + 1.

One Direction fly to Ghana on the 12th or 13th and return on the 15th. On the 16th Harry calls into Grimmy’s show to talk about how Fincham DOES NOT LOOK LIKE A MEMBER OF ONE DIRECTION. Finchy asks Harry when he’s back and Harry says “in a couple of days”. (Small side note here that I don’t think Finchy and Harry are at the level of friends where they keep track of one another’s schedules so the only way Finchy could have known that Harry was heading back out of town to Japan that very day is if Nick told him.)

One Direction in Japan from January 16th to the 20th.

I'm not going to count this as a time they were together because I have no hard evidence, but the night of January 20th Harry was spotted in a grocery store buying wine and Annie Mac mentions on her show that Nick ditched coming over for dinner that evening to have a friend round to his house instead. We assume it was Harry, but w/o actual proof I don't want to say it concretely.

40. January 21, 2013 - Baking for Radio 1! (Tweet confirming the friend was Harry.)

Nick tells this story the morning of the 22nd about how he forgot he had to bake, so he got up from bed, went to the store for supplies, and forgot eggs. So, he texted his friend who was coming over to bring eggs and then Nick baked while his friend yelled at him to add more butter.

41. January 22, 2013 - Watching Great British Bake Off

Do what you will with this one. Obviously there is not definite way to tell if this is Harry or not, but given the evidence of the amount of time they spend together that has been laid forth thus far, I feel comfortable saying those are indeed Harry's legs.

42. January 31, 2013 - Out for Harry's birthday at La Bodega Negra (the same place they celebrated Nick's birthday.)

Nick also went to Groucho Club afterward with Harry and mentioned on his show this morning that he hadn't slept at all. (He was still wearing the same outfit.)

43. February 1, 2013 - Aimee tweets about being in the car with Nick en route to play Laser Quest. (Can't imagine who they might be playing with.)

Nick tweeted this :)

Never

Getting

Over

This

February 19, 2013 - PreBrit Awards Dinner Hosted by Nick!

THEIR SMILEY LITTLE FACES. :3

Legit SHARING A TAXI ON THE WAY HOME

2/20/13 - At the Brit Awards together!

Leaving an after party!

taking a cab to Nick's house so Nick can change for work

hands hands hands

At Nick's flat

2/21/13 - On The Breakfast show the morning after the Brits!

Harry on The Breakfast Show!

2/23/2013 - Nick attends One Direction's first show at the O2 in London

THE DROUGHT IS OVER!!!

8/21/2013 - Nick interviews Harry, Zayn, and Liam for TBS

Then Nick and Harry hook up later for dinner.

September 12, 2013

Harry gets off the plane from LAX, gets on the tube and meets Nick at an Elton John concert

Harry and Nick's dad at the concert, posted to Nick's instagram.

September 13, 2013

This person says they saw nick and Harry at Apartment 58 (members only club) together

https://twitter.com/LightbownL/status/378610145271771136

But, Sadie Frost also posted a picture of her and Nick getting ready to go out for LFW with no mention of Harry, so the tweet could be false facts.

But then! September 14, 2013

Sadie posts this picture of Nick sleeping on her sofa

Followed by this picture of Harry posing with her daughter

And then Nick and Harry went to Henry Hollands show at LFW together

Then to a pub with Gemma, Kelly Osborn and others

Then to dinner with James Corden and his wife

September 15, 2013

September 17, 2013 - Fashion Show East in London

November 9, 2013 - Breakfast with Anne and Robin at the Wolseley.

So Anne tweeted this in the morning. You can see the Wolseley logo at the top of the plate.

Then this girl got a pic with Harry at the Wolseley during his breakfast with Anne and Robin.

and she confirmed that Nick was eating with them https://twitter.com/alexandra_imper/status/400204985222193152

Then off to Selfridges to shop!

At Alexa Chung's birthday party!

November 10, 2013 - Ladz instagram and Aimee Phillips birthday party!

LADZ VIDEO!

November 30, 2013

Harry playing with Puppy at Nick's house.

Poppy Delevingne's hen party!

Leaving Groucho club.

December 1, 2013

Primrose Hill lighting ceremony!

Nick with Daisy Lowe and his dad!

Then this girl met Nick

https://twitter.com/rpcheald/status/407224559687852032/photo/1

and saw Harry

https://twitter.com/rpcheald/status/407209332858552320

Class of '92 movie premiere

Nick and his dad on the red carpet

Harry meeting Beckham!

December 4, 2013 - London Fashion Awards

February 17, 2014 - Taking a random taxi ride?????

and leaving Nick's flat

March 29, 2014

Sleepover at Harry's house!

Nick posted this on instagram

http://instagram.com/p/mHpTBdPJyt/

At the time we weren't sure it was Harry's drive but...

https://twitter.com/cuppanarryx/status/481310537817399296/photo/1

Hiya, doggie.

Also Nick's tweet from the morning after just because.

https://twitter.com/grimmers/status/449814322399940609

May 24, 2014 - Radio 1's Big Weekend

May 28, 2014 - Barry's BC London

And link to post about the other tweets x

June 8, 2014

Nick attends One Directions show at Wembley Stadium.

June 12, 2014

Harry at Nick driving around London in a Ferrari.

and another tweet about the Ferarri sighting.

https://twitter.com/ItsJustMikey/status/477133631602065408

Then later that evening Harry went to Nick's for his World Cup barbecue and fans took pics with Harry outside Nick's house.

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minghellafine · 4 years ago

Link

Full interview below.

The first thing Max Minghella does when he joins our Zoom call is ask me about the weather. It wasn't just a conversational cliché though, he really wanted to know what it was like where I was. I tell him I'm in New York City, where spring can surprise you with a day that's colder or warmer than it looks. This particular day was chilly. "I'm always cold," he interjects, "I'm reptilian. My body finds a way to keep me cool." He shivered as he spoke, sitting in his sunny backyard in Los Angeles wearing a T-shirt. I checked the temperature right after our call. It was 80 degrees in L.A.

Despite any discomfort, Minghella is just really happy to be at home. Unlike the millions of people who spent 2020 in quarantine, he was working on season four of The Handmaid's Tale throughout the spring and summer."I'm sort of jealous of people who have this moment to pause and reflect," he says soberly. "Even with all of the trauma it's caused and all the things that obviously were detrimental, I know a lot of people who've had big life changes in the past year."

He acknowledged, however, that creating something in a time when everyone wished they could escape was ultimately a lucky thing. "There was a ubiquitous sense of gratitude," he adds.

Outside of the global pandemic, the dynamics on set had shifted — this season, his co-star Elisabeth Moss (or "Lizzie" as he affectionately calls her), was a director. "She was amazing on set," he explained. "Just very in control and it ran super smoothly. When I saw the episodes she directed, it just kind of blew me away. Her style — it's very cinematic and it really underlines the sci-fi elements of the show. It has a real kind of scope and confidence to it. I think she's a real filmmaker."

RELATED: Marvel's New Face Danny Ramirez Has the Range

Minghella's character Nick has an interesting arc this season too – he's realizing his role as a senior member of the Gilead ruling class, but also still in love with June [Moss]. It's a complex character that challenges you as an audience member. He is the brooding love interest, and while you may root for him and June to be together, you also have to see him for what he is: an architect of a world that kidnaps women and uses them for childbearing.

What made the previous three seasons of the show even harder for viewers to digest was the fact that people so badly wanted to believe there could be a good guy defector — maybe even Nick — in a room full of bad guys. During those years, many people felt that the dystopian elements of the show were reflective of the nationalist agenda being put forth in the United States by the Trump Administration. So much so that a group of protesters famously wore Handmaid costumes to protest anti-abortion bills and Supreme Court Justice Brett Kavanaugh's confirmation hearings. Without saying much about the parallels in the show — other than chalking them up to "pure coincidence," Minghella felt the Handmaid's Tale, whose protagonists are anti-Gilead, are "on the right side of history." He added diplomatically, "Ultimately, I'm most proud because I think it's really great fiction."

I get the sense that the pursuit of "great fiction" is something that consumes Minghella. He's someone who appreciates art (he got his big break in 2006's Art School Confidential), and his parents are Anthony Minghella, the late award-winning director of The Talented Mr. Ripley, and actress Carolyn Choa. He loves details (see our earlier weather conversation). Even the way he talks about Los Angeles has a story-like quality. He tells me about how he knew when the city became his home after a feeling he got driving past the Silver Lake 7-Eleven. As he told it, I pictured it like a scene in an indie movie starring Zach Braff.

"I had this sort of pathological obsession with movies from birth. [My mother] worked for the British equivalent of the Motion Picture Association, so she would watch three films a day. By three or four years old, I was just kind of an obsessed movie person." It's his favorite movie, Beverly Hills Cop ("I think I saw 100 times by the time I was eight years old," he says) that inspired another big role he was working on during quarantine: Minghella stars as a detective opposite Chris Rock in the Saw franchise spin-off Spiral: From the Book of Saw.

"The movie was so serendipitous for me. I feel like I almost manifested it in my life," Minghella muses. "There's a line very early in the movie where we're investigating these crime scenes and we come to a grizzly one. My character looks nauseous. Chris's [character] says to me, 'Are you okay?' And my character says, 'Yeah. I mean I'd been dreaming about this since I was 12-years-old.' And that was a very kind of weird line because it's just true."

Now at 35 years old, Minghella is feeling settled. He is still a "film nerd" that gets giddy with each new opportunity, but he's less anxious about the results. Next thing on his list? Vacation.

"I'm hoping in May once the movie comes out I can run away somewhere."

Read on for his cheesy would-be campaign slogan, his fast-food weakness, and the time he escaped a tornado while working on a film with Blake Lively.

Who is your celebrity crush?

Mary Tyler Moore.

What's the last thing you do before you fall asleep?

I listen to 1950s radio shows. Usually Dragnet. I was researching a project in that period briefly and got sort of into the radio culture of that time. And now I find it incredibly soothing.

Favorite villain?

Hans Gruber.

Describe a memorable dream.

I had a recurring nightmare as a child in which my grandmother turned into a cat. So Tom Hooper's Cats was very traumatizing to me.

First album you ever owned?

My mother bought me the Top Gun soundtrack on audio cassette.

If you were required to spend $1,000 today, what would you buy and why?

I would do anything to help a distressed dog.

If you ran for office, what would your slogan be?

Some kind of tacky pun using my first name. "Take it to the Max," or maybe "Max on, Max off."

Name one place you've never been but have always wanted to go.

Easy. Japan. I went when I was one, but I don't think that counts.

What's the most uncomfortable outfit you've ever worn?

I did a film called Art School Confidential and I had to wear a beret and I found every moment of it truly humiliating. I remember being completely traumatized by it.

Describe your first kiss.

My first kiss was at a bus stop. I was 14 and I lied and told the girl that it wasn't my first kiss, but I think it was probably immediately evident that it was.

What's one dish you're always tempted to order if you see it on a menu?

There are so many things. That's the sad answer. French fries is the truth.

Favorite on-set memory?

I did a movie called Elvis and Anabelle with Blake Lively like 100 years ago and we shot in Texas. There was a tornado one night that forced us to evacuate the set and we had to sort of drive off in a hurry. I put on this song by The Knife called "Pass This On" in the car which is very dramatic and cinematic. The tornado was sort of in pursuit of the vehicle while we were speeding away. And it was just far enough that it wasn't life-threatening, but also a radical visual. That's one of my favorite life memories.

The Handmaid's Tale season 4 premieres on Hulu April 28, and Spiral: From the Book of Saw hits theaters on May 11.

Photographs by Emily Malan. Grooming by Sonia Lee for Exclusive Artists using La Mer. Polaroid Photos by Max Minghella. Special thanks to Polaroid. Production by Kelly Chiello.

#max minghella #the handmaid's tale #saw #spiral #elvis and anabelle #the social network #interviews #*

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sunburnacoustic · 2 years ago

Text

Muse full gigs

Some full shows that are available, for anyone who wants to partially relive the Muse live experience.

I figured no one's made lists in a while.

La Cigale, Paris By-Request gig 2018

youtube

rarities + I guarantee I'm gonna fuck up Space Dementia + water spitting + Matt and Dom playing Grammy hosts in the way they announced the winners of the by-request polls

Some cool and noteworthy gigs:

Live Lounge 2012

The Mayan 2015 (performance wise this gig was stunning)

Royal Albert Hall 2008 (Teenage Cancer Trust charity gig - Megalomania on the pipe organ!)

Reading Festival 2011 (10 years of Origin of Symmetry - played the album start to finish)

AOL Sessions 2006

Reading 2006 (Muse's first time headlining if I remember right. Plus, Matt's moves!)

Glastonbury 2004 (first Glasto headline and a must-watch! Of the iconic mad-scientist, white lab coat era. Muse had called it the best gig of their life so far, at the time) (*Ruled By Secrecy was played live but wasn't included in the concert footage DVD and isn't in this video upload either)

Montreaux Jazz 2002 (height of piano maniac-ery days. Would also recommend Pinkpop 2002 but they don't. have. the footage anymore :( Space Dementia at Pinkpop 2002 was phenomenal. 2004 is also good, but I never found 2002 again. Speaking of which,)

Pinkpop 2004 (most songs are in, a few performances missing unfortunately)

MCM Café 1999 (marvel at what a good live act this young band aged 21 already was—with about 4 years of gigging experience under their belts. Insane how good they are.)

Wembley 2007 (H.A.A.R.P. The first band to sell out the newly rebuilt Wembley Stadium. 90,000 people. You need to understand, seeing Chris lift up and point his bass at the crowd at the end of the slightly modified Jimmy Jam riff before Time Is Running Out was a religious experience that changed me and we're lucky enough to live in an age where you and I can witness it over and over and over again and I'd suggest that you do)

Rock Am Ring 2018, uploaded to the Internet Archive by the Muse Historical Society!

Austin City Limits 2013 Philipshalle 1999 Philipshalle 2001 (all suggested in notes, check out the crystal clear gifs from @hotbellamy! :O )

A few additions I remembered after publishing: Eurockeennes 2000 (opened with a then-unreleased New Born. Matt playing a full gig in red sunglasses. Treat to watch. Link's stretched up to fit modern screens but if you want a bit of clarity and don't mind the late 90s ratio stretch, here's a different link) 2002 (quality's a bit shit but that is literally what telly used to look like)

Shepherd's Bush Empire 2006 (Early gigs are always interesting because over time Muse develop different ways of playing songs that are fresh off new albums. The way they work through Take A Bow live is a bit different here, Dom's the one controlling the opening verse synths! During the Abso tour, Matt would play that bit on the piano as an intro to Space Dementia and if I'm remembering right, he does now on the pianos (correct me—this was on the ST tour as well). Also, Starlight in Bm at this gig)

Big Day Out (Australia) 2004 | 2007. Muse's first tour Down Under, 2004. If you're impressed by Muse's riffage here, know that you aren't alone, Metallica's Kirk Hammett was as impressed as you are. Also I've linked 2007, presented by the V channel, featuring Matt asking a male interviewer, 'Do you feel sexy now?' and famously proclaiming that they'll look sexier in their 40s, which has been true.

Rock Werchter 2023 (Muse play Rock Werchter in Belgium almost every year, except for the pandemic and 2012 I think, but this year's was a bit special. Best performance of Madness I've seen in a while, I love what he does in the outro! MOTP returns to the set. Muse had tech troubles at the end that caused them to restart Knights of Cydonia twice, to no avail. They finally cut it back for a guitar-bass-drum-vocals-only performance of Showbiz, and Matt's voice sounds exceptional on it— the best in recent years)

Bizarre Fest 2000 (BLESS SOMEONE HAS RESTORED THIS FROM VHS TAPE IN HD, this is so much better than back in the day!! If the falsetto at 1:13 doesn't do it for you, you're into the wrong band, nothing else will help. What an electric performance this was!)

Buenos Aires 2019 (livestreamed Simulation Theory-era gig in Argentina, because the set was changed at the last minute because of adverse weather, Muse gave the audience a choice of song between Bliss and Showbiz. The crowd chose Showbiz, which the band played for... the first time since 2006 I think??)

Gigs from WOTP 2022/23 festivals tour last summer:

Nova Rock Rock In Rio Ejekt Fest Isle of Wight ALTer EGO Jan 2023 (as Muse had talked about in that iHeart Radio IG Live) Hurricane Festival 2023 (a festival at which Matt once complained that Muse's set was cut short by... hurricanes. But the audio mixing at this gig was really good!)

These are in no particular order, and obviously not complete, I just realised no one had put together a gig archive in a while so I thought I'd give it a stab!

Will edit and add others whenever, there are obviously glaring omissions still!

#gig archive #muse band #muse live #there was this ridiculous 360 cam footage of Reading 2011 and for some reason that was the only one I could find.#That was years and years ago of course so I'm thrilled to have a proper and full recording of this!#Youtube #for anyone that wants to get extra into the spirit before your gigs lol #muse #muse gigs #muse full gigs

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hotchley · 3 years ago

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hello hello hello, congratulations on 500 followers! you deserve each and every one of them and more!

for your celebration, please could i request:

11 from the angst prompt list with hotchley

Thank you! Of course you can, and writing this was so sad :( I wrote majority of it in the car on my phone, so excuse any errors, and it's not been proofread, but it's here!! And it's below 1.5k which made me very happy :) Set some point after Damaged! There's no happy ending

11. “what happened to us?”

Trigger Warnings: divorce, canonical character deaths, implications of self destructive behaviour, self blame

read on ao3!

Haley is moving back into the house. It makes sense. She will have more custody of Jack, and there’s only so long her father can handle caring for her mother.

The only reason she left was because Aaron wouldn’t. Aaron would- unconsciously- follow in his parents footsteps by trying to compromise where none could be made, and then pretending things were perfect when that realisation set in.

So she’s moving back. It’s going to be just as painful for her as it was for Aaron, to see the scraps of their love in the cracks of the wall.

The difference is, she won’t hide that pain.

Besides, it’s time for them both to do what’s best for Jack.

Aaron leaving for the case was the best thing for Haley, because it gave her the push she needed to take a step towards happiness. Haley leaving the house was the best thing for Aaron, because it meant he could finally stop pretending he could balance everything. Being somewhere familiar will be best for Jack.

Either because he’s a gentleman, or because he needs to punish himself for his sins that aren’t really sins, just human mistakes, he helps her.

To unpack the things she took when she left and to pack up the items she either wants to donate or put in storage. His own things are already in boxes. Of course they are.

She’s been sorting out the kitchen. There’s not much there. Just the mugs and plates are left. And not even the fancy sets from their wedding, the normal ones that they’ve not used in months.

Aaron is sorting out the attic. Haley knows it’s selfish to be grateful that she doesn’t have to do it, but she is.

Before she can muse too much about her husband- ex husband- and his mind, which she never quite managed to understand, he walks in.

For a single moment, he stops and smiles, like he always has since the day they met. For a single moment, they’re just kids. For a single moment, he’s still the man she married. But then reality sets in. They’re none of those things.

“What would you like to do with this?” He asks.

And the worst part is, he’s not being malicious. He’s asking out of genuine respect.

Haley’s voice almost breaks as she replies. “Keep it here. It’ll be something nice to show Jack.”

“It” being the album Jessica gave them one Christmas. The last one they spent married. Jack’s first. Aaron didn’t have to leave at any point.

The album tells the story of their love. From seventeen and holding hands in the Pirates of Penzance, to thirty seven and holding Jack in the hospital. There’s candid moments and kisses and holidays and everything.

Haley wants it back. “Let’s have a look,” she says before she can stop herself.

Aaron looks surprised, but he obliges.

She flips it to the first page. It’s a message from Jessica, and she quickly flicks to the photos. She knows that message by heart and reading it will feel like failure.

The first one steals any words she could form. Because they’re so young. They’re seventeen, they’ve not even made their college decisions, but they’re sat in her garden laughing at something.

“What happened to us?” Aaron whispers.

Haley looks at the photo again. But it doesn’t hurt. She just feels a strange acceptance. As though she knows, deep down, they’re never going to be those people again. As though she knows there is nothing worth fighting for anymore. Her and Aaron will always love each other, but not in a way that can be salvaged.

Not in the way those children did.

“We grew up, and realised the real world wasn’t like the movies,” she says.

Aaron doesn’t just look hurt, he looks defeated. She realises how harsh it must sound to him.

“But that’s okay. I promise. It’s okay.”

“I took your life from you Hay. It’s not- how can you say it’s okay?”

It’s been so long since anyone has called her Hay that she forgets what’s being said for a moment.

“You didn’t take my life from me. I still teach. I have my friends. I have Jack and my clubs. Aaron, you didn’t take my life because we built one together. It’s just that now, they’re going in different directions. That’s all.”

She smiles and he wipes his tear away. “You always know what to say.”

I know. Now put this in the living room, and get back to work!”

Haley knew what to say when Kate Joyner died. When Megan Kane died. When George Foyet came back. When Spencer was poisoned.

But she didn’t know what to say when she saw her husband- ex- in the hospital. And she didn’t know what to say when a gun was held to her temple.

And then George Foyet took her life, but to Aaron, it would always be his responsibility. His fault.

Nobody could ever convince him otherwise.

#hotchley's 500 #hotchley #han <3 #if you'd like an emoji please tell me lol #that goes for everyone!#tw divorce #tw self blame #tw implied self destruction #all of these are flopping so hard but it's fine #</3

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lonelypond · 3 years ago

Text

BETWEEN US

NicoMaki, Love Live, 3.6K, 1/1

Summary: Nishikino Maki and Yazawa Nico have many challenges ahead, but they get through them together.

Between Us

Is this what love is? Not a fire that bites painfully but two people laying so close to feel every breath, hands nearly touching, eyes on the brilliant stars opening themselves up suddenly, sure enough to share truths they speak into the night, this solitary space, this private moment between them.

Nishikino Maki spoke first, always the more impatient, curious about Yazawa Nico’s state of mind. “What do you want to do, Nico-chan?”

“Nico wants to show everyone that little and cute can be strong, sexy smart, talented, funny, hard working, successful….I’m tired of how the world treats cute girls like Nico. Nico is a star.” Nico flung her arms out, to encompass the sky. “They should be in awe.”

I am, Maki said to herself, and then thought, why not say it out loud. This was all new, why not be bolder.

“I am.”

Nico squeezed Maki’s hand, a reward for honesty. “What do you want to do, Maki-chan?”

No one said Maki’s name like Nico. It had been Maki’s anchor through the continuing craziness of Muse, Eli’s taskmaster torture, qualifying, Honoka’s collapse, then starting over, right as they discovered these new feelings, a gift from all they’d been through.

“I want to use the Nishikino fortune for new things, good things, to stop propping up out dated ways and awful people. I want to find new ways to help…” Maki was a person of specifics and she had a list. “Girls, gays, empaths, people fighting bigotry, neurodivergents, water protectors,” Maki thought of Rin and giggled, “furries, us, our friends, the world.”

“Maki-chan will do great things.”

“Once I’m 30.”

Nico Yazawa considered. This was so new and 14 years from now, when Maki was a doctor and her trust vested, seemed as distant as the nearest star Nico could see. But Nico knew naming goals was the first step to achieving them, even if it seemed a wild fantasy.

“Nico will be there.” Not flashy, just quiet determination.

Nico heard Maki gulp. She was probably tearing up and couldn’t speak. Nico didn’t really expect her too. Sharing was such a new trust. But Maki’s hand carefully kept precise palm to palm contact with Nico’s. That said everything.

“Marry Nico.”

Maki sighed. “No one can know.”

“Okay.”

YAZAWA NICO FINISHES FIRST INTERNATIONAL TOUR WITH SPRING SPLASH IN HONOLULU

NISHIKINO MAKI BEGINS RONIN YEAR SOLO WORLD TOUR SURFING IN MAUI

Sunrise. Quiet beach. Her own choices. Is this what contentment felt like, Maki wondered. Finally, moments of quiet to listen for the important things. Leaning against her duffle and board, dressed in a striped rash guard, bright lavender board shorts, and a faded denim “You Are On Native Land” cap, Maki stretched, watching the horizon as a lone speck appeared in the distance, jogging toward her, not actually growing much as the distance closed, Maki thought with a private grin. Nico, running in an oversized hoodie and bikini bottom, gasped dramatically, reaching a hand for the water bottle Maki held out as a lure.

“Still running 5Ks every morning?”

“10K when I don’t have a concert or rehearsal. Nico is a boss.”

“Umi would be proud.”

Nico dropped and did ten fast pushups in the sand next to Maki, “Not if Nico told her it was only to make girls swoon.”

“Girls?” Maki arched an eyebrow, hand sweeping through her hair.

“Girl.”

“Fiancee.”

Nico laughed, rolling toward Maki, pulling her down into a playful, sandy kiss. “Ready to upgrade to trophy wife?”

“Yes.”

But there was no hurry that morning. Both had put their other lives on multiple 15 plus hour flights and fallen briefly off the grid to sit side by side on this hidden beach, the tide surging, a rare treasured morning to share.

“Went to the symphony last night. Monica Mancini sang, Henry Mancini’s daughter,” Nico hummed the Pink Panther theme, “Nice voice, more your thing than Nico’s though. She sang a lot of Johnny Mercer. And some new stuff. Nico was taking notes.”

“You’re great on stage Nico-chan, but I guess you can always learn from other performers.”

“Nico is learning songwriting.”

Maki pushed against Nico, “Going to try to get me to put Nico Nico Ni to music again.”

Nico’s mood turned serious, “I miss watching you play.”

“I miss playing.”

“When Nico gets her penthouse, there will be a baby grand.” Nico let her hand settle on Maki’s, “Working with a portable keyboard now. And Umi’s giving me advice, so many books...I’m so busy reading, there’s no time to party.”

“Good.”

“Hey, do you have any plans tomorrow night?”

Nico stared at Maki for a moment, but there was only earnestness in the amethyst staring back, “Not since you got here.”

“I’ve been talking with some of the elders, volunteering on Maui, learning about healing plants, and aloha ‘āina.”

“What’s that?”

“It’s really cool. I’m going to get Papa to invite some of the teachers and doctors I’ve met to give seminars for us. Aloha ‘āina means so many things, but it’s mostly being determined to take care of each other by taking care of the land. It’s very land based and tradition based, here in Hawai’i,” Maki picked up a handful of sand, “but it’s caring and not soft...exactly...when you meet Kai, he’ll explain it better. We’ve been invited for dinner, his uncle plays the ohe hano ihu.”

“What’s that?”

“ A nose flute, not for big concerts, more personal...Kai says his uncle has so many stories about it being used in courting rituals.”

“Is Maki-chan taking notes?”

“Maybe.” Ah, Maki’s sexy, best musician in the world grin. Nico missed that one a lot on the road. A killer cute band was no replacement for the brilliant, lovely pianist who’d so boldly wrapped Nico’s heart in music.

They were in the teasing phase now. “Do you have to keep courting a cute girl after marriage?”

Maki shoved into Nico again, “Well, duh…”

Joint laughter, rolling out to meet the tide.

“We’re getting married.” Maki said quietly.

“Just need to take our passports to pick up the license and go to the shrine. We filled out everything else online.” Nico glanced at her bare legs, “And Nico brought a kimono. Although Maki-chan looks sporty cute just like she is.”

Maki had a far off look, not paying much attention to Nico. Happy to wait ‘til Maki drifted back to the beach, Nico was going to enjoy memorizing her favorite scenery, Maki’s beautifully expressive face, now relaxed and open, thoughts waves and clouds in constant motion. Nico knew the solitude here allowed Maki to relax, there was no family pressure, their phones were off, nothing on either of their schedules for at least the rest of the week. A rare moment to sit with each other, sharing this beauty.

NISHIKINO REAL ESTATE GROUP BUYS LARGE LUXURY TOWER NEAR NISHIKINO MEDICAL CENTER

SUPERSTAR REFUSES TO GIVE UP PENTHOUSE APARTMENT TO NISHIKINO HEIR

Fast food. School girls lingering from Otonokizaka. Two people shoved into the booth furthest from the door and windows, sitting on the same bench, hip to hip, back to the rest of the room.

“So many memories in this place.” Nico unwrapped her burger.

“So many french fries.” Maki dipped a sample french fry in her chocolate milkshake.

“Another meal Nico paid for. You got rich not paying for food.”

“Hey! You were too proud to let me pay.”

“Nico is still too proud.” Nico tapped her fingers on the table. This late afternoon, for this clandestine meeting, they’d allowed themselves the indulgence of wearing their braided gold and platinum wedding band, Maki added the simple diamond Nico had bought her for their engagement.

“Is this going to work? Us actually living this close together without rumors starting?” Maki had been worrying. So many comments in the press and on social media.

“Everyone already has us at war. Nico’s a selfish poser, Maki’s a spoiled brat. Enemies to lovers.”

“Not funny, Nico-chan.”

“Nico will throw a huge party before I leave on my next tour. My new landlord will threaten very publically to throw me out of the building. Everything will flare up, but Maki-chan will continue to do boring future doctor things and by the time Nico gets back, all anyone will be talking about is Nico’s new album.”

“They’re not boring future doctor things.”

“No, they’re smart, saving the world future doctor things and Nico is so proud.” A quick kiss on Maki’s palm.

“Meanwhile…”

“Meanwhile, Umi and Eli install a secret hatch above the decorative staircase centerpiece of your expensively designed main room.”

“I’m going to miss you, Nico-chan.” Sadness.

Time to change the mood. Nico dipped a french fry in her strawberry shake and fed it to Maki. “How’s studying going?”

Maki leaned, chin in hand, frowny. “I could be more motivated.”

“So B?”

“A minus.”

“Nerd.”

“ ‘s dull." Maki said, chewing slowly. "But have to stay on track with the family benchmarks.”

“Yeah.” Nico decided to talk about happier things, “ooohh, did I tell you Eli’s setting up a foundation for Nico as her graduation project. We’ve already donated tickets to queer youth groups in every city on the tour and Nozomi’s setting up mentor programs.”

“Expect a large anonymous donation.”

“Expect a large not so anonymous thank you.”

“I’m just proud that you’re doing things to actually help people. I want to do more.”

“You’re studying to be a doctor, Maki-chan. That’s hard. Nico’s got it easy. All Nico has to do is” Nico went into her signature gesture, “Nico Nico Ni and everything gets brighter.” Nico suddenly remembered she shouldn’t have let her catch phrase out full voice during what was supposed to be a secret meeting, but this was a low traffic period so no one seemed to notice.

“I couldn’t get that out of my head, the first time I saw you do it. It was annoying.”

“But you loved Nico.” Nico snuggled closer, enjoying a chance to feel Maki next to her.

“But I loved Nico, all of Nico, the bold, brash, terrible liar, the kind, caring sister, the determined ally and friend, the hard working and talented performer.”

“Nico wasn’t a liar, Nico was an optimist.”

“Private chef,” Maki cough giggled.

Nico grabbed the french fries as Maki reached for another one, “Confiscated for cheekiness.”

“Give me those.” Maki grabbed, Nico dodged, french fries flew loose and they giggled their way through the next few minutes until Nico leaned forward to whisper in Maki’s ear.

“So are your parents still in New York City?”

Gulping, suddenly completely flustered, Maki nodded.

Nico bounced up, offering a gallant hand, “Nico will walk you home.”

“Fancy.”

“Only the best for Mrs. Yazawa.”

“That would be Mrs. Nishikino.”

“We’ll wrestle. Nico will win.”

“Optimist.”

Nico’s hand on Maki’s waist was a gentle guide into the autumn night, two hats pulled down, two collars pulled up, Nico in a mask to protect her voice. “Wait and see.”

Maki leaned into Nico. This night, unlike too many others recently, felt just right.

HEAD OF THE NISHIKINO MEDICAL GROUP COLLAPSES, HOSPITALIZED

NICO NI NEW YEAR’S CHARITY CONCERT SELLS OUT IN MINUTES

Nico had never been so sick. She’d lost count of the medicines she was taking to sleep at night, and then the additional ones added to get her through tonight’s concert. Then she could rest. Go to her Mama’s house and get babied for a bit. Maki had been so sad at Christmas, with too many family obligations to fly to Los Angeles. Nico had gotten through their Christmas Eve quick chat and then collapsed, barely moving until yesterday’s rehearsal, which wiped her out.

Pounding on her hotel room door. What the hell? Phone pinged, the Maki-tone.

“Open your door, Nico--chan.” Maki sounded angry. Was she pounding? Nico felt even fuzzier, slumping to the door, opening it to fall against a tall, angry Maki, beanie over her hair, sunglasses, and a mask.

“Nico-chan?” Now Maki’s voice sounded tearful.

“Hi, Mrs. Yazawa.” Nico croaked out, hoping to make Maki at least giggle.

Strong arms swept her up, Maki striding across the room, putting Nico gently down on the bed, Maki immediately examining every bottle by Nico’s bedside, “What kind of quack put you on all this?”

“Don’t know.”

“Don’t know? You don’t know.”

“Trainer found ‘em…recommended.”

“You should be in a hospital.” Maki’s voice broke.

“Concert, charity, millions. Nico Nico Ni.” Nico had no idea if what she was saying made sense.

“Cancel. Refund. I’ll make a bigger donation.”

“Nico is a trooper.”

“Nico is a zombie. What the hell kind of irresponsible moron gave you all this?” Maki crashed all the bottles to the floor. “Did they inject you with anything?”

“It’s LA, Maki-chan, the beautiful people never stop.” Nico coughed. It hurt like 50 Umi arrows to the chest, “Nico is a beautiful people.”

“Nico-chan…” Maki was kneeling next to the bed, desperation and weariness lining her face. She’d never travelled well, Nico realized.

Nico managed to flip so she was on her side, managing to smile at Maki, “Hey pretty girl.”

“I am going to sue that quack into despair and destitution.”

Nico blinked, suddenly aware that Maki should be in Tokyo. “Why are you here, Maki-chan?.”

“Hanayo heard a rumor…”

“Did anyone see you?”

“I don’t care.” Maki’s head dropped to the bed, “Papa collapsed...and you’re like this and hiding it from me…and letting some greedy idiot try to kill you...if anything happens to you, Nico-chan…” And the tears, Nico could feel them as she reached for Maki, hot, heavy, rolling off pale cheeks.

“Nico will be fine.”

Maki shook her head.

“Look at me, Maki-chan.”

Maki raised her head. Her eyes were bright. She was always so bright, so caring, her native prickliness a fortification against all the emotions Maki didn’t know how to process.

“I will be fine.”

Maki surged up, her arms drawing in Nico, whose heart was really not rested enough for tackled into bed by the redhead of her dreams. “Maki-chan, you’re going to hug Nico to death.”

“Don’t say that.” Maki’s arm twitched for a minute like she was going to shove Nico away, but then Nico found herself pressed as closely as she’d ever been against a clothed Maki, which would have been amazing if she could breathe. So Nico let a cough out and Maki loosened her hold.

“Let Nico sleep.”

“Okay. But I’m not going anywhere.”

Nico had closed her eyes, muttering, “...love you.”

“I love you too, Nico-chan.”

A-RISE STEPS IN AT LAST MINUTE FOR NICO NI

NISHIKINO MAKI CHECKING OUT STANFORD RESEARCH FACILITIES, POSSIBLE PARTNERSHIP

Nico is officially spoiled. Another morning waking up to Maki curled up by her side...She’d shipped everyone else back to Japan, tour over, a solid break until Nico’s doctor cleared her for rehearsal. Nico sat up, teasing tumbles of red hair, Maki had been very clear that Nico had to clear the steroids out of her system first. But at least Maki hadn’t banned other forms of exercise.

“I’m not asleep, Nico-chan.” Maki mumbled, sounding totally still asleep.

“Thanks for coming to rescue Nico.”

“Don’t make me do it again. I might have to go back to school.”

“I thought you were joining the Board Of Directors ahead of schedule?”

Maki opened her eyes, stretching, “Order pancakes. And bacon. And orange juice. And muffins.”

“Brunch in bed.”

“I’m not leaving until I have to.”

Nico reached down to kiss Maki’s forehead, “It’s been nice having you here.”

“Then come home.”

“Nico is working on it.”

Maki raised an eyebrow. Nico sounded excited. “Is there something I don’t know about?”

“It was supposed to be your Christmas surprise, but Nico’s agent was still negotiating.”

What could Nico’s agent be negotiating that would be a Christmas surprise for Maki?

“I’m going be the main character in a TV drama, based in Tokyo.”

“Really?”

“Really. I didn’t get to be there when your Dad ended up in the hospital and I’m so sorry…I knew you needed me, but...this is our life...” Maki nodded as Nico gestured at the hotel suite, continuing, “And I knew you were going to be super busy with family stuff so I pitched an idea and two production companies jumped on board. Nico is taking a paycut and ownership, but all you’ll have to do is come upstairs and Nico will be right there, at least for six months.”

“Nico-chan…” Maki sat up.

Nico put her arm and pulled Maki in, Maki dropping her head to Nico’s shoulder, “We get through the tough stuff together, Maki-chan. We always have. I love you.”

“Love you.” Maki was falling asleep again. Nico would add coffee to their brunch order. Maki had to be awake enough to sneak out and catch a plane.

YAZAWA NICO TO STAR IN DOCTOR SMILE

DOCTOR NISHIKINO MAKI TAKES OVER FAMILY MEDICAL PRACTICE

If she didn’t have Nico, Maki would probably just live with a grand piano, a huge bathtub, and a couch to eat take out on, Nico thought as she sank into lavender scented steaming water.

“It’s not funny, Rin. And I don’t need weekly updates about who Nico’s kissing on the show.” Maki sounded aggravated. Nico giggled. She’d come home early from a weekend meet the fans event and snuck into Maki’s luxury tub to recover. Candles were lit, Idol music popping.

“Wait a minute, Rin. I think…” Maki’s steps sounded hasty and she was suddenly in the door of the bathroom.

Nico winked. “Hi Maki!”

Maki made a grumbly noise and turned sideways, “No, I’m okay, Rin. There’s just a surprise in my bathtub…” Maki glanced at Nico, “Rin says hi. And you have to stop using my cases, Nico-chan.”

“Did Rin say that? And who says Nico does?”

Maki glared, “Where do you even get your information?”

Nico raised a finger to her lips and winked.

“And that red wig. It’s awful. People think you’re making fun of me.” Maki listened to her phone. “Shut up, Rin.” And the phone went in her coat pocket.

“What did Rin say?”

“Nvermind.” Maki muttered.

“Maki-chan…” Nico splashed at Maki.

“No one would ever call me Dr. Smile.”

Nico guffawed, slapping water everywhere. “I miss Rin.”

“If I had Umi’s bow, I wouldn’t.”

“You love her.” Nico leaned back, watching her wife, who had flopped on the nearby chaise. “So who thinks Nico is making fun of you?”

“Papa.”

“PFfffffff…who cares.”

Maki glared, ‘“We’re trying to keep his stress levels low.”

“Red headed doctors are the best.”

“But I like your hair; it looks like you.”

“But our daughter will look like Dr. Smile.”

That threw Maki’s train of thought completely askew. The closest she could get was imagining Cotaro when she first met him with bright red hair.

“I wonder if our children will look like you? All your siblings do.”

“And they’re cute. But our children will be NicoMaki cute. I’ve seen your baby pictures, you were adorable.” Nico leaned back, smiling up at Maki. “Nico can’t wait to have a family to come home to.”

“You have me.”

“And I love it.” Nico blew lavender scented bubbles at Maki, “But you, me, the cutest children ever in the universe, and Christmas morning.”

Maki couldn’t keep the huge grin back. “I can tell them all about Santa-san.”

“But we’re not spoiling them too much.”

Maki pouted at Nico.

Nico giggled, “That’s what our parents will do.”

Maki got up, taking off her coat, sliding out of her jacket, unbuttoning her shirt halfway and slipping out of her pants. Then she sat on the edge of the tub, feet in the water, toes teasing Nico’s legs. “You’re going to tour less, right.”

“Nico’s not touring now. You’re going to cut down your hours, right, Maki-chan.”

“Just started the search for an Executive Director. And put the LGBTQ+ Health Centers proposal on the fast track.”

Nico leaned over, her chin on Maki’s thigh, “We’ve worked really hard for this.”

“We have.”

“I think Mama knows.”

Maki laughed, “It was that morning she surprised us at breakfast, wasn’t it?”

For once, Nico was the one blushing. “Nico needs…” Nico’s arm slipped under Maki’s shirt, a casual touch on Maki’s back, “more elegant pajamas for entertaining company.”

“No you don’t.”

“You like it when Nico borrows your shirt.”

“No, I love it when Nico-chan borrows my shirt.”

“Nico loves your pajamas.” Nico’s fingers started tracing patterns.

“Ha!” Keeping her cool with Nico this close had always been impossible so Maki just lowered herself into the water, pausing for a messy, wet kiss, “Let’s skip dinner.”

NISHIKINO MAKI AND YAZAWA NICO: DETAILS OF THEIR WHIRLWIND COURTSHIP AND MARRIAGE

The interviewer leaned forward as Maki ran a hand through her hair. She was relaxed in a light gray Tadashi Shoji corded lace sheath dress, and confidently answered her question, “It was a long day, my eyes were so tired everything was blurry and I got in the wrong elevator. Nico had just gotten pics of the Ayase twins and we started talking about high school.”

“Talking?” Nico snorted, standing behind Maki, hands in the pockets of bright pink Victoria Beckham trousers, the matching blazer falling open, “It was all Nico’s sex appeal. Nico is irresistible.”

Maki leaned her head back, a private smile for Nico, “Nico is irresistible.”

“Is it irresponsible to take so much time off from your responsibilities to take a world tour honeymoon and then start a family?”

Nico chuckled, her hands on Maki’s shoulder, “We’ve planned carefully. And they’re our businesses. Nico never understood people working themselves to death, not taking time for family. We want to change corporate culture.”

“You’ve always been ambitious, Nico. What’s your next project?”

Nico winked, “That’s just between us.”

“No hints for our viewers, Maki?”

Nico leaned down, arms around Maki’s shoulders, whispering something in her ear. Maki’s full, flaring blush could have been a picture from high school. The interviewer laughed.

“Nice to see you two worked out the Penthouse Wars.”

“Nico is a reasonable person.”

Maki threw back her head, laughing, “Sure, that’s why.”

“Well, Nico is certainly a top…”

“Nico-chan!”

“I love you, Maki-chan.” Giggling, Nico kissed her wife’s cheek.

Nico might have been the only one to hear Maki’s muttered, “I love you, Nico-chan.” But it had always been true.

A/N: Another AU Yeah August request, it started out as Married Rivals, but I was reading a Dolly Parton songwriting book and in the songs about love chapter there were these lyrics from "Between Us":

In our love let's share a friendship between us Always close enough to talk things out Let's be honest with ourselves and each other And our love will never know mistrust or doubt

So I just started writing conversations.

#NicoMaki #Nishikino Maki #Yazawa Nico #married #married life #fluff #minor illness and angst #au yeah august

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blu-joons · 4 years ago

Text

Candids ~ Min Yoongi

He couldn’t take his eyes off the screen as the placard came up on the programme to announce you’d be the next performer on the stage that night. Every single one of the boys who were sat around him had their eyes watching his stare.

“Do you forget sometimes you get to see the real thing?” Jungkook chuckled, earning himself a glare from Yoongi. “You look like you’re obsessed with her.”

Taehyung nodded from beside him, “we all know Y/N’s pretty and successful, but you look right now like you’re jealous of every single guy sat in that theatre tonight.”

Yoongi’s head shook, deciding not to give them the reaction that they wanted. Everyone knew that you were incredibly successful, plenty of fans liked to remind Yoongi of that on a daily basis, questioning how he ever managed to end up in a relationship with you.

Around you, he never wanted you to see how much people’s comments got to him, but at times, he struggled greatly to hold back and bite his tongue.

“It must be pretty lonely for her to be there alone tonight,” Jin spoke up, “but then she looks better probably than she would if she had you stood by her side for the night.”

Yoongi’s head continued to shake, as much as he knew the boys were only teasing him, the boys were unaware that those were also the comments that he read every day online and in the fan cafes from most of the fans, and yours.

“How does she always look so good,” Hobi mumbled under his breath.

Yoongi looked across at him, “she looks great without makeup too, I wish that people saw a bit more of that side to her too.”

As he spoke up, he pulled his phone out from his back pocket and looked down at his lock screen. The photo instantly brought a smile to his face, noticing your wide grin as he photographed you tucked up in bed, giggling away as he pulled a funny face in your direction.

Hobi and Jimin who sat either side of him soon glanced down and looked at the photo, nudging their blushed friend in the ribs gently.

“This is when I love her the most.”

“Like what?” Jungkook asked.

Yoongi turned the phone around so that the rest of the group could look at the photo too. “Just when she’s Y/N, not the superstar that everyone knows and loves.”

“You can see just how happy she is with you in that photo Yoongi.”

The boys both were all too aware of how well the two of you got on, despite their several instances of mocking and messing around with him.

Namjoon was always the first of the boys to make sure Yoongi knew how pleased they were for him. “You’ve done well for yourself Yoongi, you should be able to show her off.”

“I just wish people didn’t think that I was just with her for the person on the screen tonight.”

He turned the phone back around to look at, unable to hide his smile once again as he studied you closely. His phone was full of candid photos of you, he loved to snap as many as possible so that he could look back over them when the two of you were apart.

With such busy careers for you both, there were often very few opportunities for the two of you to spend some proper time with each other. The photos Yoongi possessed of you were almost like saviours for when he really struggled without you.

“Do you really think people feel that way?” Jungkook questioned from across the room.

Yoongi’s eyes darted up to look over at him, “I’ve read so many comments that wonder how I’ve managed to get with Y/N, because they just see her in fancy dresses and make up.”

“But that’s because the person who’s on your phone is a part of your private life,” Taehyung tried to reason, “that’s a side of Y/N that you should treasure all by yourself.”

Taehyung’s words quickly resonated with Yoongi as he placed his phone away, so many of those photos were ones that he wanted to keep away from the world. They were photos that he wanted to be able to look back all by himself. The smiles on your face in so many of the photos were ones that only he wanted to be able to bring out of you.

Yoongi’s head slowly nodded in response to his friend, “all these candid photos carry memories and traits of Y/N that so much of the world doesn’t get to know.”

“And you’re the lucky one that does get to know them.”

“I guess you’re right,” he mused, glancing back across at the television screen. “I’ll be the first to admit that I’m punching when it comes to Y/N, but what I won’t admit is that I’m only with her for the incredible performer that she is.”

He could spend all night listing off the reasons that he was with you, reasons that no one else ever had the chance to know. However, the boys knew, and that was by far what was most important to Yoongi, those closest to him knew the real you.

“Y/N won’t want you to feel down about tonight too.”

Yoongi’s head nodded at Hobi’s words, your performance tonight was one you’d begged him to stay up and watch. It was well into the early hours for them at home, but all of them wanted to see you perform and watch you do what you love.

“Do you know anything about her performance tonight?” Hobi added.

Yoongi’s head shook, “she’s kept it top secret from me.”

He quickly recalled the several times he’d begged you just for a small spoiler over the past few days, but each time, you told him that there was no sharing any details.

“What are you hoping she performs? You’ve got to have a favourite song of hers off the new album?” Taehyung then enquired.

Once again, Yoongi’s head shook, he loved every song off your new album the same, as did hundreds of thousands of people around the world who also took the time to listen to your album.

“Anything she performs I know will be great,” he whispered, much to the excitement of the others.

Regardless of what you performed, sung, danced, or even spoke, Yoongi knew that he would be proud of you and cheering you on.

“What if she surprised us all by performing with no makeup on?” Jin suggested, “if she knows that’s a side of her that you love so much.”

“I hope she doesn’t,” Yoongi replied, “you guys were right, that’s a side of her that I want to keep for me, the world can have the superstar Y/N, but I’ll just keep the human Y/N for me.”

“I’m sure it’s the same for her too,” Jimin grinned, “not many fans get to see you without makeup, but that’s a part of you Y/N always gets to see.”

“Well, you guys always get to see it too,” he teased, “but seeing as none of you have any candid photos of me, I guess it is a bit different.”

Namjoon’s eyes widened, “I guess you haven’t looked through our photo galleries for a while.”

“Since when have you guys been taking photos of me?”

---

Masterlist

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charmedseoull · 4 years ago

Text

Interview with sugamins about her work House of Cards (Ao3′s second most hit English work and most hit BTS work)

Before You Read the Interview

Archive of Our Own Transcript

Reddit Transcript Part 1 / Part 2

House of Cards is documented within the Top 50 Most Hit BTS Works on Archive of Our Own Project, otherwise known as T50BTS, by Charmedseoul. It is the second most hit English work on the Archive of Our Own platform, most hit BTS work, and 16th most hit work overall. It centers around the internationally popular K-Pop idol group BTS (Bangtan Sonyeondan) with the main characters being Park Jimin, Kim Taehyung, and Jeon Jungkook. This work is being documented for historical purposes for the Fanlore website with its own page. Charmedseoul is a BTS-focused anonymous historian who plans to eventually document each of the top 50 most hit BTS work on Ao3 as in depth as this one. If you are in contact with any of the authors of these works, please contact her on Twitter @charmedseoul or on Tumblr @charmedseoull.

Parts of this interview have been edited with links to Fanlore and Wikipedia pages for understanding. Any information in [brackets] serves for further clarity for readers and elaboration of information.

Disclaimers: This interview contains spoilers for the BTS Archive of Our Own work House of Cards. The story’s Archive of Our Own tags contain violence and gangster activity, along with discussion of prostitution and drug use. The full tag list is:

Alternate Universe - Gangsters

Gang Violence

Violence

Drugs

Drug Use

Explicit Sexual Content

Explicit Language

Blood and Gore

Blood and Torture

Gambling

Gunplay

Undercover

Disturbing Themes

Homophobic Language

Attempted Rape/Non-Con

Xenophobia

Dom/sub

Threesome - M/M/M

Drug Addiction

Dubious Consent

This interview discusses an 18+ mature work and Not Safe for Work topics. Please read this interview at your own discretion. You are responsible for the content you consume.

House of Cards by sugamins is a multi-chapter Archive of Our Own fanfiction that follows police officer Kim Taehyung’s undercover operation into the gangster world of Haedogje Pa. Jeon Jungkook, shrouded in an air of mystery and dubbed “The Boy,” is the heir to this crime empire. Park Jimin lives with him, acting as a lover of sorts in a high, pristine penthouse apartment. The story follows the three and their complicated relationship where sex, violence, and drugs surround them. Kim Taehyung tries to take down the empire as his moral lines of black and white begin blurring into gray. In this crime-ridden alternate reality to Seoul, everything from the structure of the gangster world to the trust between three lovers is as fragile as a house of cards.

Now presenting the interview with sugamins, author of Archive of Our Own’s second most hit English work and most hit BTS work, House of Cards:

How did you start writing?

How did you get into fanfiction?

How much writing experience did you have prior to House of Cards?

Do you have any literary or artistic inspirations? Any other authors or works that have inspired you to create anytime before or after House of Cards?

How did you become an ARMY [ARMY stands for Adorable Representative MC for the Youth. It is the fandom name for fans of BTS, otherwise known as Bangtan Sonyeondan]?

I started writing fanfiction in 2012. But before then, I used to enjoy writing stories as a child and young teenager. I used to write and illustrate my own stories. I even had a sketchbook filled with my own comic book, which was terrible! But I've always been creative. It started with art and then I moved onto writing when I discovered I was able to be much more creative with my words rather than my pencil.

I first got into fanfiction through my years spent on Tumblr. I had always known that it had existed, but I had never really gone looking for it because I hadn't belonged to a fandom at that point in my life. It was back in 2012 when I stumbled upon an EXO fanfic that a lot of people were talking about (Arbitrage, you can find it on Livejournal.) I read it and then thought...wow, so this is fanfiction! From that point, I started reading more and more, mostly Infinite fanfiction. And then I decided to start writing with the encouragement of an old online friend, and here I am!

In terms of writing experience, I have never formally received education. I stopped studying English Language and Literature when I was 16, instead focusing on Art, History, and Religious Education (purely because I wanted to learn about philosophy and quantum mechanics) for my final two years at high-school. The only experience I have is through writing fanfiction. I started back in 2012, and I've developed a lot since then. I started off small, writing horror short stories and little collections. Brotherhood was the first 'long fic' I created. I was shocked that it managed to get so big because I had never created a story of that size before. Writing helped me gain experience and figure out what worked and what didn't work, what I was good at writing, and where I was lacking and needed to learn. I don't think you can really experience an art form until you start doing it. You can learn all about the techniques and the conventions, but until you pick up a pen and start writing or drawing, you won't ever know what it means to create.

My literary inspiration has always been Stephen King. Which is funny, as he has described himself as 'having diarrhea of the typewriter.' I think that applies to me sometimes. I am a bit of a wordy writer, though I've started honing it down for certain stories. Sometimes, a story needs to be floral and descriptive, sometimes, it needs to be punchy and direct. So, King was my major inspiration, especially with horror. I also enjoy the works of Poe and Lovecraft (I acknowledge the problematic themes in the work of Lovercraft and seek not to praise him as a person. He was a terrible person for sure, but sadly, he had a way with cosmic horror that is hard to find.) I also enjoy Chuck Palahniuk and the dark, seedy and overall zany stories that he has created. I like his style a lot!

In terms of inspirations for House of Cards, I was obviously inspired by the films Infernal Affairs/The Departed. American Gangster and Training Day were also major inspirations (and also because I love Denzel Washington's performances in both films. I mean, who doesn't love him?) But I also drew inspiration from other sources that were less focused on gangs, more focused on the dark, nihilistic state of the world around us. I couldn't recommend the TV series True Detective hard enough. It is one of the best series I have ever watched. It handles dark and disturbing content so well, and its fractured, unreliable story-telling and philosophical musing is some of the best I've ever seen on screen. I highly recommend checking it out, but be sure to check the content warning and triggers because it certainly isn't suitable for younger audiences and those with triggers. In terms of real-life content, I think Ross Kemps' docu-series are very good. Particularly Extreme World and On Gangs. His docu-series show the dark and disturbing side of criminal activity, the drug trade and more.

I became a fan of BTS [Bangtan Sonyeondan] back in 2013. I had already been a fan of K-Pop for some time by then, as I had started listening to various K-Pop and K-Rock artists back in 2009. I knew of their debut, but I had seen hundreds of new acts debut by the time that they broke into the scene, and so I didn't pay much heed. Someone I followed on Tumblr at the time kept posting about how much she loved them, especially Taehyung [BTS V/Kim Taehyung]. One day, I stumbled upon a gifset of Yoongi [BTS Suga/Min Yoongi] being sarcastic in one of their first interviews. I thought he was funny, so I decided to check them out. At the time, they had recently released We Are Bulletproof Pt. 2 [BTS’s second music video release with their debut album 2 Kool 4 Skool]. I followed them from that point, and their first comeback [A “comeback” refers to when a K-Pop idol group releases new music, usually done twice a year.] was also my first comeback. I liked their music [BTS released Boy In Luv and Just One Day in 2014, both music videos of songs from their Skool Luv Affair EP.], but I liked them even more as individuals. I loved watching their shows [Here is a link to BTS’s schedule during 2014 when they had their first comeback. You can find the shows and interviews they were on there.], even though they are incredibly embarrassing to look back on now. They just had so much energy and looked to be having so much fun that I was having fun just watching them. I was a fan, I liked a lot of their songs and followed their activities. But it wasn't until they released HYYH Part One [Hwa Yang Yeon Hwa Part 1 (Korean) = The Most Beautiful Moment in Life Pt. 1 (This is the title in English), released with the I Need U and Dope music videos.] that I really became a fan of their music. I had already created a couple of small horror stories for the fandom at that point. HYYH Part One [The Most Beautiful Moment in Life Pt. 1] inspired me so much that I created Brotherhood, my first 'long fic.' I joined AO3 [Archive of Our Own] and started posting there. I received so much support from fellow fans that I carried on writing, and the rest is history!

How has your experience being an ARMY [Adorable Representative MCs of the Youth, BTS’s global fan base name.] been? Did you ever leave the fandom then come back? How did you interact with others when you first got into the fandom and as you grew up?

How have you been since you wrote House of Cards? What have you been working on?

Are you okay with talking about how old you are now and how old you were when you wrote House of Cards?

Before you even wrote House of Cards, what inspired it? Any TV shows? Music? Movies? Books? Ideas? It could be anything.

How did you start writing House of Cards? Did you finish the entire story then publish it or did you write it as you went? What was the writing process like?

Did you have any beta readers or editors? If you did, are you still in contact with them now? How did they feel about your work?

My experience being a fan has mostly been positive over the years. In the earlier days, back around when I first started writing for the fandom, it was certainly much more positive. I've received so much support over the years, not only in my writing but in my personal life from readers and fellow fans that being a fan of the boys [The members of BTS] really has changed my life. That's not an exaggeration. I doubt I would even be here now without those years having such a positive effect on my mental health. I've never really been the kind to interact with others and form cliques within the fandom, I just like being in my own space and interacting with everyone that comes my way, I guess?

These days, I'm not as active as a writer or in fandom spaces however. I feel like my time in the fandom has started to come up and I don't know how I feel about it just yet. I feel nostalgic for the time when I was first starting out in the fandom and I didn't really know much, but everything was fun. It doesn't feel so fun now, but I mostly contribute that to the effect that Twitter has had on shaping the fandom's growth. Twitter has never been a good place for creatives within fandoms because of issues with algorithms and such. Tumblr was always the better website for hosting artistic content for a variety of reasons. So, I think the fact that everything is on Twitter now has been partly responsible for my decline in engagement and overall enjoyment. I'm currently taking a break from Twitter. The next couple of months will be what makes me either stay or leave the fandom.

Since writing House of Cards, I've been an active writer in the fandom. Over the years, I've added quite a lot of stories to my AO3 accounts and various pseuds. My largest ongoing story is another gang story, set in the 1980s, called Valentino Summers. I actually started writing and publishing it on Ao3 just four or so months after I finished House of Cards—which is wild to think about. Finally finishing House of Cards seems like such a long time ago in my mind, and yet I'm still working on a story I created that same year! I like contributing horror stories to the fandom, especially in the Halloween period. I like publishing series in the month/upcoming weeks before Halloween—though I won't be doing so this year [2020].

When I started writing House of Cards, I would have just turned 22. It was inspired by the song 'Wires' by The Neighbourhood. I might be mistaken, but I believe that Jungkook [BTS Jungkook/Jeon Jungkook] posted a tweet with the song in it. [Jungkook did tweet about this song. Here is the English translation.] I had never heard of the band before, but my partner was a fan of their music. She sent the song to me and I was very interested in the lyrics, so I started discussing them with her. One thing led to the next, and then we had basically come up with the entire plot of the story. We just needed to create the characters. We spent a little while doing so, and then I started doing some research and started writing the story. There really isn't a grand backstory to House of Cards, it just happened so fast. We often come up with story ideas like that, and my partner is responsible for a huge amount of my stories. She has the creative visions, which I then turn into words. We make quite the team, haha~ The inspirations, I mentioned those in my previous answer regarding films and TV shows.

I published the story as I went, though I staggered the updates because I didn't want to post too frequently. I had the entire story planned out from the start——I didn't change a single aspect of the story no matter what I received in terms of feedback. I think a lot of readers assume that writers might tweak things if they sense the audience wants something to happen in terms of plot or relationships. Personally, I don't like doing that. I like sticking to my plans even if I know my vision might not be what the readers want. I think it's important for the story to be created the way I see it because my vision is what made me create it, if that makes sense.

The writing process was surprisingly smooth! You might not think it because the story is big and there are a lot of characters and plot threads to keep on top of, but it went smoothly for me. It flowed just as smoothly from start to finish as Brotherhood did. I never struggled once with writing the chapters, nor did I ever get stuck and wonder if I should change the content in order to make it easier to write. I'm surprised that I managed to complete it so easily because that's not the case with writing now! I tend to be a lot slower now, more deliberate and more open to changes in order to ease the process and the overall flow of the story. In a way, this change has been for the best. I do wonder what House of Cards would be like if I were to write it now, with my different approach to planning and writing. It would probably have a quicker flow, and the word count would either go down as a result of cuts, or go up because of additional scenes I would have likely included.

I didn't have any betas, which you can probably tell from the work. My stories are so big that I never wanted to put the burden of fixing them onto someone else. I know they are imperfect, oftentimes bloated things, but that's just what they are. I did try creating a story with another writer in the past, but it didn't go very well. She would often have conflicting opinions on things and would not have any leeway for anything I suggested, whereas I always had leeway to allow her to change things. Even to the point of completely changing the plot of the story that I had already started writing, and then allowing her to add graphic sexual content she didn't even want to be in the story. She actually stopped writing fanfiction randomly in the middle of us creating the story! She made a post about it being disgusting and nasty and then bowed out. I have no clue if she ever came back! So, my negative experience with attempting to work with someone else when creating a story kind of made me not want to have a beta. It's a wild story, I know!

House of Cards is praised for its realism and accuracy with weaponry, torture, sex, and violence. How did you research these things?

How did you come up with the gangster universe in House of Cards? How did you develop Haedogje Pa?

How did you name the original characters in House of Cards? Did any characters in particular take inspiration from existing characters in TV shows, anime, books, any type of media?

How did you decide on Vminkook as your main characters for the story? What do you see in their dynamic and them as characters?

Jimin is claimed to be one of the best written characters in the entire story. What was your thought process when characterizing him and developing him?

Taehyung is an especially dynamic character whose morals get tested time and time again in House of Cards. What was your thought process when characterizing him and developing him?

Jungkook is one of the characters that the readers spend the least amount of time getting a perspective from, but is incredibly well written in his character progression. What was your thought process when characterizing him and developing him?

When it came to various aspects in the story, I did do research. Most of it never really had an impact on the story itself. For example, I would be looking up gun models that are used by law enforcement agencies around the world and trying to find specs of them so I could learn how many bullets each gun held, or how much a magazine could hold. In action scenes, I didn't want my characters firing off 20+ bullets for a gun that—in reality—holds far less. That's a fact that doesn't really mean much to the average reader, but it meant something to me! I've always hated how many bullets fly through the air in action scenes in films and TV shows because I'm always wondering if it's possible with the firearms featured in the scene haha~ In terms of torture, I've come across the subject through various documentaries and TV shows about gangs, crime and serial killers. I didn't really do much additional research into the topic, beyond reading up on what I had come across to make sure it wasn't fictionalised for drama purposes. Obviously, there will be some lack of realism in my story because I couldn't possibly write a realistic portrayal of gang violence and torture when I have zero personal experience with it. My aim wasn't to give the story 'full' realism (I'll explain more about that in the next question) but to simply create a world that felt real, even if there were little aspects that had to be exaggerated for the sake of the story. Taehyung's behaviour when undercover certainly broke many procedures. The only thing working in his favour that allowed him to get away with it is that the crimes he committed couldn't be directly traced to him. But a real undercover agent would never do the things that he did on behalf of the gang. Basically, this means that the entire story is unrealistic! But of course, it wouldn't be very entertaining if Taehyung simply observed from the background and didn't dirty his hands. So, I had to bend and break the rules a little!

For the universe, I knew that I couldn't base it too much in reality. Because of basic Korean law, it would have been impossible for me to write the gang operating in the way they did in the story—especially with guns. Most Korean gangs tend to use other forms of violence and weapons in order to control their respective areas, rather than guns. My other story, Taste of Ink, has what I would consider a more realistic approach to gang activity—with the main weapons being knives, baseball bats, etc. and the main forms of violence being assault instead of flat-out murder. So, for the sake of allowing guns to appear in the story, I had to create a Neo-Seoul, so to speak. I took inspiration from Korean gangs, and mixed it with influences from other gang cultures in order to create 'Haedogje Pa.'

When it comes to naming original characters, I honestly don't put much thought into it. I like to use real names for inspiration. I often Google various Korean films I've watched and read the cast list in order to find interesting character and actor names. This is because I have a habit of reusing names sometimes. For example, readers of my stories might have come across a couple of Daesu and Goohee characters. Do you know where I got these names from? I picked Daesu from Oh Daesu - Choi Minsik's character in Oldboy. Goohee comes from the manhwa 'Let Dai' - he is the stubborn gang leader that actually has a good heart beneath his rough exterior. I ended up liking him the most by the end of the story, so his name is one that often comes to mind when I need to pick an original character name.

I never really consider real life dynamics when I'm writing because my stories are so detached from reality that it seems pointless including any inspiration from reality. I chose the three main characters simply because, at the time, they seemed to fit the character moulds the best. The other characters fit their respective characters so well (especially Namjoon [BTS RM/Kim Namjoon] and Yoongi) that I simply thought it was best to have Taehyung, Jimin [BTS Jimin/Park Jimin] and Jungkook as the three lead roles. I chose them more based on how I thought they could personally fit the characters, rather than focus on the dynamic. To use Taehyung as an example, I thought that he would fit the character of the informant in my story because in reality, he is intelligent and seemed like he would suit the role. For Jimin, I thought he would be a good choice for a character that some might think is vulnerable or even weak. He is actually very strong and the most important character for the plot progression. For Jungkook, I liked the thought of someone with such an innocent outer appearance hiding a dark secret.

I'm so glad that readers took to Jimin so positively on a whole. I know there are some that hated him, or that hated the fact I chose him for such a role (a 'negative' sex worker role). But Jimin is the most important character for the plot progression. It is through him that the entire plan finally culminates in the explosive finish. I wanted to treat him with care because I understood that his character could go very wrong if not handled correctly. It would have been easy for him to simply become nothing more than a sexual prop, should the story have focused too much on Taehyung and Jungkook as the key players. So, I decided to subvert it by giving Jimin the ultimate hand in the story and allowing him to have more control than Jungkook in the end. If Jimin had not decided to follow through with the plan, if he had decided to snitch or had simply refused to do his part in exposing the gang, the story would've ended drastically differently. But I also didn't want to write Jimin taking control of the entire situation at the end because it would've felt ingenuine. He is a character that has been deeply affected by a lifetime of trauma. I was worried that some might take my portrayal of his trauma the wrong way, and see him not as a character that has suffered immense mental damage but rather as an annoying, weak character that gets in the way of more 'interesting' dynamics. I'm sure there will be readers that think that. Mentally traumatized individuals are often seen in such negative light, be they fictional characters or real people. When writing his character, especially in the later scenes, I wanted to make sure the trauma he experienced would shape his behaviour. Writing the scene of him getting ready to leave, when he is taking his pills and he doesn't think he can do it, it was hard. It was hard getting into that headspace of feeling so powerless in the moment and knowing that freedom is in reach, but not knowing how to achieve it. He was a difficult character to write, but I think he turned out just right in the end.

Taehyung was probably the best character to write. I love characters that start off so morally upright and pristine, and by the end of the story, their backs are bending and close to breaking from the weight of their conscience and misdeeds. His character has many facets to him that made his perspectives so interesting to tackle. From his green days in the gang, where he is horrified by the violence he sees, to the changes in his psyche as he starts to become desensitized to it all. Fundamentally, Taehyung begins the story as a good man, a hero, but by the end, there is no black and white thinking. He has become grey, muddied from his time spent in the gang. Is he a hero for bringing them down? Would a hero do the things that he did in order to bring down the gang? He killed people. He tortured people. He threatened a man with a gun, a man he knew had a deepset fear of guns that would severely trigger him. I think it all depends on how the reader sees it. The hardest thing to write for his character was his troubled descent into the relationship between him, Jungkook and Jimin, and how it affects his thought processes and emotions. I didn't want House of Cards to be seen as a romantic story when I created it. If readers see it that way, they are more than entitled to their own interpretations. I cannot tell them how they can interpret my art, that is not my role as the creator. I don't know if I effectively portrayed the co-dependency between the three main characters as well as I would've liked. But I had never tackled such a story and themes before, and so it was all new to me.

I didn't know that Jungkook had the least perspective from the three main characters. Similarly, I never really put that much effort into creating and developing his character! Jungkook simply 'happened' in the moment. He would appear in the chapter, and then his character would basically take control of the scene. I never really knew what he was going to say or do beyond my rough plans for each scene. I just waited until he appeared and let the creative spirit flow through me. That's how he came to be! I've had that happen many times in the past with characters—they have a life of their own and I've no control over them. In my story, Brotherhood, Taehyung happened the same way. It was impossible to write his character in that story because he was so wild and free-spirited that it didn't feel right unless his behaviour was a total spur-of-the-moment reaction to the other characters and new plot points. But with Jungkook in House of Cards, I don't know why I didn't have him planned out like the others. It's interesting to think that he might've had a good progression when I never planned any of it in detail!

Were there any original characters you particularly liked writing or enjoyed?

When you wrote for the BTS hyung line, how did you determine their roles in the story and characterize each of them?

Is there a reason behind Namjoon saying “brother” or was it a consciously written character quirk?

When you handled more serious subject matter in House of Cards, how did you feel when writing it? Were you ever startled by your own work?

Was there any type of purposeful titling for the fanfiction chapters?

What was your reason for House of Cards’ open ending?

I liked writing Lim, the original informant that helped Taehyung join the gang. I like writing characters that come across as sleazy. In his case, the sleaze was all an act and wasn't true to his character; he was affecting it for the sake of creating a persona. But I enjoy writing absolute sleaze balls too—the kind of guys that have chest hair and wear gold chains and thick watches, who practically ooze oil. I just find them fun! Lim was a good teacher, even when he was rough around the edges. It was sad doing what I had to do to him for the sake of the plot. But I feel like Lim understood the game as well as everyone else, and so he knew he was running on borrowed time.

Of course, I loved writing Bae Goohee too! He was an absolute bastard! I loved writing this figure that is spoken about throughout the story as a frightening man, one so brutal that the readers are already wary of him before he even appears in the story. I believe that Taehyung refers to him as a 'guard dog' at some point. I think Bae is the scariest character in the story for me because he is so ruthless and willing to do any order that the Jeon clan give to him. That kind of blind and unwavering devotion is frightening!

I also enjoyed writing Sungah and Jangmi. I think they're the only female characters in the story that have dialogue? Sungah has a great backstory that I unfortunately couldn't go into too much in the story, but it shaped her character a lot. I like how frank and intelligent she is—she holds her own even in a department filled with men that receive far more praise than she does simply because she is a woman. She also allowed me to add an angle about the unfair treatment of women in jobs that have power, drawing parallels with how Taehyung faces discrimination from his fellow officers when his sexuality is abruptly revealed during the investigation. As for Jangmi, I just liked writing about the wife of a mob boss! And not one that is simply a trophy wife, but actually has a lot of power and influence across the city. I wish I had been able to feature her more, alongside her husband, Jeon himself. But I like the scenes they appear in and I enjoyed writing them.

For the rest of the members, I had Namjoon and Hoseok [BTS J-Hope/Jung Hoseok]'s characters planned right from the start. I had also created plans for Yoongi and Seokjin [BTS Jin/Kim Seokjin], but I wasn't sure how much of a role they would play in the overall story. As I started writing them, I realised that Yoongi would play an important role in both Taehyung and Jimin's character development, and so he ended up featuring a lot more than I had expected. I planned their jobs and then let them influence how I would write them. Namjoon and Hoseok's characters came naturally. Yoongi's character completely took over his job role and basic description and became a really strong character that I'm proud of. Seokjin was a little trickier because he doesn't appear in too many scenes—but the scenes he does are integral to the plot. I needed to make sure that his character said everything he needed to in his limited scenes. He has quite the bombshell to drop after all! Seokjin was also tricky because I wanted him to have an air of mystery around him. I wanted him to be the kind of guy that not even Taehyung and his police connections would be able to unearth much about; a ghost in the system. I would've also liked for him to feature more in the story, but I feel like his character appeared in the essential scenes that the story needed. He was going to feature more in the planned sequel, being one of the first characters to appear alongside Yoongi. He was going to serve an important role, so I'm disappointed that I didn't get to show those scenes to readers.

With Namjoon, I wanted to portray him as a mature character, but not one that was conservative and stiff. I thought about having him say things like 'man' but that seemed too casual and didn't suit his character. 'Man' made him seem more like a surfer than a police officer. But when he said 'brother' in one of the scenes, I realised the word suited him better. It was fraternal, and it allowed him to show some affection towards the other characters without having to have physical contact with them. It's not the only Namjoon I've written that says 'brother' a lot. In Valentino Summers, Namjoon has experience with hippies in the neighbourhood that he lives in, so he also refers to other characters like Jimin as 'brother.' It just seems to suit him! I guess it's because I like creating Namjoon characters that are intelligent and mature, but still have a gentle and warm presence. I could picture him saying it in real life (I'm certain he already has!)

When writing serious subject matter, I'm surprised to admit that I was never shocked by what I was writing! I guess it's because I already knew that I was going to be handling dark themes. I wouldn't have tackled such subjects had I not felt comfortable doing so. Dark content isn't for everyone, and by that I don't simply mean consuming it. Creating it can be very difficult for some writers, and can even cause distress. It's not easy diving into a world that is filled with crime, pain and fear. It's even harder putting yourself into the shoes of a character that is suffering/has suffered. I was never writing in a desensitised state though. Far from it. I'm actually very sensitive to violence in reality. In fiction, it depends on the violence—but I'm usually not too affected by it. I've been a fan of horror since I was a child, and so I've seen a lot of nasty films filled with gore and 'shocking' deaths that never really had much of an effect on me. Unrealistic violence doesn't scare me. But when it comes to personal violence, that is always frightening to me. It's far scarier writing a scene where a character feels threatened by another character and doesn't know what is going to happen to them then, say, writing a scene of a character dying a bloody, ridiculous death in a horror story. Personal violence is much more realistic, therefore it is more unsettling to write. In House of Cards, the violence is very personal. It's in your face, it's inescapable for the characters that are involved in it. But at no point did I ever feel like I needed to stop writing because I was uncomfortable or scared by the content. If I had been uncomfortable, it would have been very reckless of me to continue writing the story.

My word of advice to fellow dark content writers: it's always important to recognise your own boundaries. There's nothing wrong with removing dark content from a story if you get a bad vibe or feel strange when writing/reviewing it. Always follow your gut instincts and never put out work that you don't like.

When writing stories, I vary between titling the chapters and leaving them blank. For House of Cards, I cannot remember the exact method for naming the chapters. Sometimes, the title comes to me when I am writing the plans and I have an idea that just suits the mood of the chapter. Other times, I have finished the entire chapter and I have to spend some time reviewing the content to decide that the title will be. In some cases, I have finished most of a whole story and I'm still not certain what to title it! I feel like with House of Cards, the titles came after the chapters were finished, or at least when they were works-in-progress.

There are some titles that really stand out to me. 'Nice Teeth' for example, is a really ridiculous title. Going into the chapter, I don't think many readers would've imagined what it could mean. 'Submachine Sodomy' is even funnier. I really can't believe I chose that as a title! I'll bet a lot of readers saw it and thought, "Oh no! Not another gunplay scene!" Luckily for them, it wasn't a reference to Jungkook's predilection for firearms in bed.

In terms of chapter titles that I really like: 'Delusions of Grandeur,' 'I Own This Fucking City,' 'Sleeping Dogs Bite' and 'Carpe-fucking-Diem.' I just feel like these titles are very well suited to the contents of the chapters. They are the kind of titles that have bite to them, that hint at action or an important plot point.

As for the open ending, there are a couple of reasons. First of all, I had planned to continue the story in a sequel that would pick up after the events of House of Cards, roughly a year on after the investigation. However, I did not pursue this sequel. I wanted House of Cards to end on an open note for the sequel to continue the story. When it comes to certain stories, I just feel that closed endings aren't always necessary. I often enjoy stories with open endings. With House of Cards, it didn't seem right just closing the book and saying it was over. There was still so much that needed to be explored. Unfortunately, I decided to not continue it. But I still think that House of Cards' ending fits the story.

Were there any scenes or moments or lines in House of Cards that you were particularly proud of or want to highlight?

If you were to write the Yoomin sequel to House of Cards, how would’ve that looked like?

How were readers’ reactions to your work in the beginning?

Did any reader comments stick with you in particular?

How did you take the criticisms and hatred towards House of Cards for its serious subject matter? When did those types of comments start appearing? Also, where did the hatred come from? Twitter? Tumblr? Ao3 comments? Did people harass you at all or hurt you? How did you heal from that?

House of Cards has a lot of scenes. I'm proud of most of them and I think I did the best I could when writing them. I do not really like the sex scenes, but that is because I wanted to write them in a dirty, sleazy way. If I could, I would change them. I like the action scenes, especially the Gold Monkey Casino and police raid scenes. Action scenes are hard to write! Fight scenes in particular are so tricky. I often sit there, choreographing the fights so I can describe them! I loved writing Yoongi's introduction to the story, when he walks into the scene wearing nothing but his underpants.

One scene that I really liked writing is the scene where Namjoon and Hoseok investigate the USB stick that Taehyung sends to them. I personally love Namjoon and Hoseok's characters. I always enjoyed writing them. In this scene, I liked getting to write them in a setting that was not the police department office. A scene where they got to relax and banter with each other, even though they were still working. They discover a horrifying crime ring in the city, but they are left with no choice but to keep it secret because they do not want to risk blowing Taehyung's cover. I do not know why I really like this scene, I just do.

In the sequel, which focused primarily on Jimin and Yoongi, the plans were to have them reunite through Seokjin—who has avoided jail time through a plea deal with the SMPA. They undergo a healing process together as they try to come to terms with what happened to them. Yoongi has a lot of unhealed trauma from his childhood, much like Jimin, which I only got to briefly touch upon in House of Cards. They grow closer from bonding over their traumatic experiences, and they become happier and healthier as a result. Taehyung and Seokjin were also going to be main characters, with Jungkook, Namjoon and Hoseok making supporting appearances over the duration of the story. It was going to be drastically different from House of Cards because it would be lacking in action and violence. It would have been much more intimate, with much more scenes of characters talking and discovering things about one another.

I cannot remember early reactions to the story, I just know they were positive. There was a lot of positive support from the start. As I updated and started to get more and more into the story, I received a lot of support on tumblr too. I started posting chapter previews there, as I used to get asks [On Tumblr, users are able to ask bloggers questions through an “Ask” function. This can be done anonymously or with their own blog username associated with the question.] requesting them. I got A LOT of asks on my original Tumblr from readers that wanted to discuss the characters and certain scenes. It was really interesting seeing just how much the readers were interested in the story, so much so that they wanted to learn even more about the characters and the universe I had created.

Through House of Cards, I have received comments and messages from readers that had addictions. They told me about how they recognised their own behaviors through Taehyung, and this helped them realise what was happening to them. Those comments stuck with me for obvious reasons. I have family members with addiction issues, and knowing that I could help some stranger I have never met before come to terms with their own addictive behaviours had a massive impact on me. Funnily enough, a negative comment stuck with me. It was not a bad comment, by no means meant to cause offence. It was a comment that was left on the story when I was posting the early chapters. I recall the reader asking when the story was going to pick up the pace because it was too slow. It stuck with me because, at this point in the story, Taehyung had already trained to become an undercover agent, had enrolled in the gang, had met and interacted with Jungkook, and had murdered a man. I was surprised that this amount of development had been seen as 'slow' by a reader, as I had thought the plot had been moving very fast.

I never really had any hate posted on the story when I was updating it. I got angry reactions when I had finished it. Because the story had not ended the way some readers had wanted, I think that was what caused the negative reactions. On my original Tumblr, I even got an ask about how an anon reader was going to write their own ending because my one was bad. I told them that I did not want them to take my story and change it like that. I have no idea if they ever posted the ending anywhere. The angry reactions were mostly from shippers, who were upset with the story not ending the way they had wanted. To them, I ask: what were you expecting from the story? I thought it was always obvious that Taehyung was going to do what he had set out to do from the start, so I do not think I misled readers at all. It was a story about an undercover agent taking down a gang—and that is what I wrote.

I know there was some animosity towards me on Twitter too. Twitter is a whirlpool of negativity, I am not surprised. Writing House of Cards made me appear problematic. My partner used to follow an author a long time back, who tweeted about me being problematic—despite having never interacted with me or admittedly read my stories. It was shocking to me that people were making assumptions of who I was as a person based on a story I created. I have never created stories with the aims of hurting or upsetting others. I am a very quiet and private person, and I hate the idea of hurting others. It was strange to me that people could assume me to be this cruel or even dangerous individual, intent on hurting others, because I created a fictional story. Do they think the same of script writers for television shows? Or film directors, who create films with dark subject matter? Do they think published authors are problematic people for writing dark and disturbing content? Do they think certain genres should not exist because they do not personally like them?

I do think it is strange that fan fiction writers are placed on these ridiculously high pedestals of moral absolutism. Fan fiction was created to be a space for creative outlet for marginalised individuals, particularly queer individuals. The heavy censorship of dark and unusual content is putting this entire ethos at danger. I understand not wanting to have certain topics included in stories because there is a risk that the content can be used for grooming or can be presented in a way that can negatively affect young consumers' perceptions (like pedophilia for example.) I certainly agree that there needs to be boundaries in place to stop the community from being flooded with such illegal content. But I think there is a difference between wanting to remove dangerous content, and wanting to get rid of content you do not like. Content can be problematic to you, but that does not make it dangerous, illegal, or bad. For some readers, the content they create is their way of dealing with trauma. Maybe this is not healthy for them. But that is their decision to make, not yours.

I orphaned the story because I did not want to handle the potential backlash. To put it simply, I do not handle negative criticism well. Not because I am stuck-up and think I am perfect, but because I am a very anxious person. Just reading angry comments makes me feel very uncomfortable, often nauseous. I know that House of Cards has received overwhelmingly positive feedback from readers, and for that I am thankful. But I had to distance myself for the sake of my own mental health. Since orphaning it, it exploded in popularity. I am thankful that I orphaned it because that amount of attention would frighten me a lot, haha~

What was your reaction to the fanfiction trailer by Sappiamur?

How did you come to the decision to reveal your real name in the end note of House of Cards?

How did you feel when you finished House of Cards?

How did you come to the decision to orphan House of Cards?

Did you ever anticipate the overwhelming fan reaction to House of Cards?

How do you feel knowing that House of Cards is one of the most read fanfictions on Ao3?

What do you want House of Cards to be remembered for?

What do you hope people take away from House of Cards?

Why do you think House of Cards became so popular?

I had to go back and watch it. It's been some time since I last have, and I'm still as amazed by it now as I was back then. The trailer is insane. I cannot imagine how much work went into making it. It's so good and it fits the vibes of the story to perfection. I think the first time I watched it, I was in shock. I must have repeated it at least 10 times in a row, just to make sure it was real and I wasn't imagining it. Then I think I screamed about it on my social media accounts, haha~ If you reading this have not watched the trailer, consider doing so. I promise you won't be disappointed.

Back when I first started posting fanfics, I used to get a lot of asks wanting to know my name, my pronouns, stuff like that. I thought by adding my name at the end of the stories, it would help cut down on these requests. But I also did so because I used to get a lot of asks referring to me as 'author-nim' and I didn't like being addressed by this honorific. I'm not Korean so I have no right to receive that honorific. So, I included my real name so readers could address me with it when sending me asks and interacting with me. I don't add my name at the end of my stories now, but my name is in my Twitter bio for those that want to know.

When I finished it, I felt relieved! I was so calm in the moment! Looking back on it, I can't remember much. But I do remember finishing House of Cards without any issues. The final chapters flowed smoothly, it all clicked into place, and I had a great time writing them.

I came to the decision to orphan the story after several nights of contemplation. I was considering deleting the story, along with a few others, but my partner and some friends told me I shouldn't do so. They suggested orphaning it instead. So, I did so. I didn't want to delete it in case readers that had started it had not gotten to finish it yet. I would've felt very mean robbing them of the opportunity to finish the story like that. I don't regret orphaning it instead of deleting it. I didn't want to destroy the story, I just needed some distance between me and the story.

I didn't anticipate it, and I still don't understand it! I'm shocked that House of Cards got the reaction that it received. Do I think it's a good story? Yes, I think that I worked hard to create a story that is enjoyable to read. But did I ever think it would get the reaction it did? Not in a million years! I thought that it would be one of my more popular stories because a) the pairings and b) the content. Gang stories usually tend to get a lot of attention because it's a popular genre in fanfiction. I just didn't expect it to reach such a vast amount of hits, kudos and comments.

I'm in shock that it is one of the most read stories on AO3. I don't think I will ever be able to create another story that will garner that kind of attention and feedback. It's a once in a lifetime thing, so I'm immensely proud of myself for achieving such a feat. But really, it's all because of the readers that it achieved such a goal. I'm so thankful for every single one of them.

I just want it to be remembered for being enjoyable, I think. I don't have any grand and lofty ambitions for the story. I think so long as the readers enjoyed it, that is all that matters.

I'm not sure what I would like readers to take away from House of Cards. I guess I want them to reflect on the idea of morality and that not everything is black-and-white. Good people can do bad things, and bad things can happen to good people. It's hard to answer this question because House of Cards isn't a story that I consider to have deep messages in it? There are no messages about acceptance and love and healthy relationships and such, like some of my other stories.

Honestly? I don't know what made it get so popular. I assume it's because of the pairings or the setting of the story. I know that a lot of readers say they love the story because of how well it's written, but I can't comment on that as the creator, haha~ I can't say my story is well-written as I'm not consuming it from an outside perspective. What I can say is that I do think I created a story that has a lot of twists and turns and betrayals, which I think adds to the enjoyment factor.

How are you now in 2020? Are you writing professionally in real life at all?

How do you feel BTS fanfiction has changed over time? Since you’ve been writing for it for so long.

Do you have any messages for people who may read this interview in the future?

I'm not writing professionally. I have self-published two books via Amazon and Lulu. One was a basic re-branding of my story babes in the woods. The other was a total rewrite of Brotherhood, which I called 'Brothers,' featuring a whole new setting and roster of characters. I published them as readers showed an interest in reading original stories. I have been considering rewriting House of Cards as an original work in the future, but I can't say for certain that I will do so.

Since I started writing, I think there's been a lot of changes in the fandom—not only in fanfiction but in general. There's been popular trends that have come and gone (I was around for the explosion of social media and text-based AUs, which I personally am not a fan of) but there's also been a lot of push for more inclusive content. I'm really happy by the amount of inclusive content that I see these days. Despite some pushback from non-queer fans that sometimes have an issue with queer subject matter (for example, trans characters) I think it's wonderful that artists of all colours, genders and sexualities are now proudly creating content they want to see, and not simply just what is 'in demand' from the fandom.

The message that I would like to share with readers of this interview is: stay healthy, stay happy, and most importantly, stay you. I also want to take this moment to tell them this - if you are considering becoming a creator, but you are worried about reception to your work, or that it might not be good enough, stop right now! Stop doubting yourself and just give it a shot! I was once like you, scared that my weird and niche interests and writing would be ignored or even mocked by the fandom because no one would like it. Had I not decided to take the plunge, my life would be so drastically different. I've made so many friends, fallen in love, and completely changed my life by creating fan content. It can be scary, but once you take the leap, you will find your feet coming down on solid earth without any danger.

Thank you for reading this interview. Further below are reminders and information about this interview and Charmseoul’s Fanlore project.

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ilooklikeaburntchickenugget · 4 years ago

Text

Only Mine Pt. 2

A/N: Part 2! I’m really sorry if there are any grammatical errors. I haven’t updated in a bit, wanted to give you guys something, so I haven’t really proof read... like at all. So yeah, if there’s some weird mistakes it’s that. Pairing: Gerard Way x F!Reader Word count: 2339 Warnings: Implied smut, a few curse words (I think one, tbh)

The Grammys. An artists dream award.

To even be recognized by the Grammys was already a huge deal for any singer, songwriter, or band. But to be nominated for 10 awards? That was a whole other ballgame.

That’s where you stood tonight though. On the large red carpet in a formal ball gown, an off shoulder look with a slit next to your leg, and it was a beautiful emerald green color, Gerard next to you in a solid black tux. Usually he would say no to these events, but it was you. And this could have been the night you received your greatest accomplishment ever, so he was not going to miss it for the world.

Just like Gerard had predicted, My Midnight Boy was an absolute hit. Many were already considering it the album of the decade, and was placed on to Billboard Top 100 at #1 for over 12 weeks, with over half of the songs reaching the top 5. While that was exciting for so many reasons, a lot of other things in your personal life took a 180. For starters, paparazzi were everywhere. Anytime you or Gerard walked out of your New York apartment, a line of at least half a dozen paps were suited with large cameras to take as many photos as possible. When the two of you were together, there were usually 20. So naturally, you both had to hire security. It was never a decision that you wanted to make, it was one that needed to happen.

Next, your band broke up. Apparently, the boys there couldn’t take your individual success and broke up in a screaming fight which left you crying in a studio, and Gerard having to come and console you for a few hours, reminding you that they left because they couldn’t handle your fame and success.

Your fandom also grew immensely, which was great. You loved scrolling through your Instagram and Twitter everyday, only to see hundreds of fans show off your merch. Some even had Y/N Y/L/N themed parties, rooms, and costumes. It was all so overwhelming, in a good way.

You and him had both done numerous interviews at this point. You were especially glad that Gerard was being asked about My Chem, and not just you. And the questions that did come about you, he would always have the sweetest most genuine answers. “She’s honestly the most incredible woman I’ve ever met, and I’m so lucky to have her as my best friend and fiancee.” “She’s a musical genius, honestly. She’s way smarter, way more beautiful, and way more talented than me. Which I’m okay with because she deserves and has earned everything she has.” “She surprises me everyday. She has new, crazy ideas for music. And they all work. She just makes it work.”

And every time you would stand off with a huge smile and even more prominent blush on your face. Finally, at one point, you were asked about Gerard. After all, it was pretty well known now that “My Midnight Boy” was, well, Gerard.

“He’s honestly the best man ever.” You smiled and looked over at him as he just smiled, “I wouldn’t have written as genuine, and heartfelt songs about anyone else. He just makes me feel every emotion, and he’s the one who brings out the best me. He’s my number one supporter, and he always reminds me of that. I couldn’t dream of a more perfect person to spend the rest of my life with.” You could feel your lover squeeze your hand in a small gesture of thanks. You both smiled, departing from that interviewer where your manager met you at the end of the carpet.

“You both did great.” He smiled, “Now the official show starts in about 20 minutes, so they’re beginning to urge everyone to take their seats. Since both of you are done with interviews, it’s probably a good time to head in.” The two of you nodded, being led into the auditorium where you were seated in the first row. Best of the best.

You had an insane amount of people, stars who you had never even dreamt of meeting, coming up and introducing themselves, starting small talk about just how incredible your album was.

You were quite overwhelmed by everything, being at the Grammys hadn’t really sunk in until you were actually there. Gerard could tell, pretty easily, and simply placed his hand on your knee, giving it a lightly squeeze. “It’s okay, sugar,” He whispered into your ear, “You’re doing great.” You gave him a tight smile, him returning one back.

Only a few minutes later, the awards started. You had to admit, it was less glamorized than what seeing it on TV made it out to be. Of course the performances were great, but the moments of complete boredom during commercial breaks and such made you realize were so many stars had complained some about the Grammys.

“After this,” You yawned during once of the breaks, placing your head on Gerard’s shoulder, “Can we go home and eat get some Chinese take out?” “Whatever you want, love.” He kissed the top of your head. You and him were not into much PDA, so anything beyond a hand hold or kiss was a lot.

“And a movie?” You asked next and he smiled.

“Of course, darling.” You smiled back, picking your head back up. The show restarted, both of you sitting back up as they continued going through some of the smaller categories, finally hitting the large ones.

“Next up, we have song of the year.” The two announcers smiled. They went through a list of artists along with their songs, Ariana Grande, Beyonce, and a few more were included, “Cardigan, Y/F/N Y/L/N.” They said and you smiled, Gerard next to you smiling as well as the cameras flashed to the two of you.

“And the award goes to...” It took them a few moments to open the card, your heart beginning to race. You grabbed onto Gerard’s hand, giving it a squeeze, and him squeezing back as your eyes went wide in anticipation, breaths caught in your throats.

“Cardigan, Y/F/N Y/L/N!” You heard cheering as you let out both a breath and a huge smile. You stood up with Gerard, who was already standing and clapping as you gave him a hug, him immediately hugging you back and giving you a kiss on the lips as the cheers continued. You only stayed for a few seconds before smiling at him again, and running up to the stage to the best of your abilities.

You hugged the two announcers as they handed you your very own Grammy. You looked at it only for a brief moment, holding it while you walked up to the mic. “Okay, so this is absolutely insane.” You sighed as a few people began laughing. “This is my first Grammy ever, and to even be able to be nominated for something like this was enough for me. But winning is beyond my wildest dreams.” You took a brief pause to actually breathe, “I want to thank all my friends and family who let me follow my passions and dreams of being a musician, I would like to thank my wonderful fiancee and muse who, without him, this song and no other song on that album would have been written. And I would like to thank every single fan who has stuck by me through thick and thin. You guys are what keeps me running every day and give me motivation to keep pushing my music further even when it may seem like I can’t, or it’s impossible. This is just so crazy, but thank you everyone!” You smiled as the cheers re-erupted, the trophy being taken away from your temporarily.

You found yourself right back in your loving fiancees arms before sitting back down. “You just won a Grammy.” He sat in awe and began lightly laughing, “You just won a Grammy!” “I know!” You responded, too in shock. “I really hope you do realize I couldn’t have ever done it without you though.” You smiled at him.

“Oh, please,” He scoffed, “You’re a musical genius. You could easily do anything without me.” “But you’re my muse!” You defended.

“Which is extremely flattering, thank you.” He gave you a peck on the lips, “But seriously, you deserve every inch of that award. You worked hard for it. You deserve it.” You smiled up at him.

“You’re incredible, you know that?” “Oh, not nearly as incredible as you darling.” By the end of the night, you had managed to do what almost no other artist had done. Won 10 Grammys in one night.

You stood on the large red carpet, dozens of Grammy logos behind you as you yourself held 10 trophies, stacked on one another, up to your chin. You smiled at all the cameras, flashing from a million different directions, your name being yelled over and over as they tried to get your attention.

Finally, you got the okay to walk off, a few people helping to retrieve your awards, which would later get your name engraved into them. At the end, behind everyone and all the chaos was your manager and Gerard, who both stood and smiled at you. You ran into his arms, giving him a tight hug as he gave you one back.

“I’m so proud of you.” He smiled down at you, your height difference pretty visible.

“Thank you.” You smiled like a fool giving you a quick kiss.

“I can’t believe it, Y/N,” Your managed spoke, “You did it!” You nodded and gave him, too, a hug. “This is huge. I mean, absolutely huge!” You nodded. “You set a record, you have 10 Grammys, I mean-” “It feels too good to be true.” You commented and he nodded. “Are you two heading to any of the after parties?” You shook your head, “I assumed not.” He smiled, “Which actually makes my life easier because I don’t have to go and monitor either.” You lightly laughed, “Well you two go home, and relax. Have some fun, but not too much fun.” He smirked.

“Oh shut up.” You rolled your eyes and waved as you and Gerard went to the back entrance to be picked up by a driver who was taking you back to your LA home.

Gerard opened the front door, letting you in first, and closing it once he got in. You slipped off your shoes with a sigh. “I think I’m gonna go upstairs, take off my makeup and all.” You lightly smiled at him. “I’ll come with you.” He smiled back. The two of you ran up the stairs like foolish teenagers in love, stumbling from one stair to another before reaching the top floor and running to the master bedroom, Gerard shutting the door eagerly behind you.

He immediately ran up to you after that, giving you a long and passionate kiss. You melted into him, letting him gently push you onto the plush bed. “So we’re on the same page?” You pulled away for a brief moment to catch some air. He lightly laughed.

“Yeah, babe.” He went right back to his assault on your lips, moving down to your neck and collarbone, finding your sweet spot quickly where you let out a loud moan. “Gee,” You begged and he hummed.

“Yes, baby doll?” He inquired, looking up to you from where he continued to plant kisses on your collar bone.

“Please.” Your strained and needy voice sounded.

“Please, what, baby?” He teased you a bit and you lightly huffed.

“Just fuck me.” You said with confidence this time.

“Your wish is my command.”

That led you to laying beside him, your body covered in both his and your own sweat. His arm was tightly wrapped around you as he played with your hair. He gave you a quick kiss. “Where’re you going?” You whined. He looked back and lightly laughed.

“To clean you up, sugar.” He lightly smiled, walking into the en suite. “I don’t deserve you.” You muttered and smiled, pulling the duvet over your bare body.

“I could say the same for you.” He smiled, coming back with a towel. “You’re just too damn perfect.” He sighed.

“Oh, c’mon Gee, don’t lie to you or me.”

“I mean it,” He climbed into bed next to you, “You are perfect.”

“Sure,” You sighed, he leaned in and gave you a kiss.

“I’m going to work my entire damn life to make you understand you’re perfect if I have to.” You placed your head on his shoulder.

“I love you.” You smiled up at him.

“I love you too.” He smiled back.

“Now can we get Chinese food.” He lightly laughed.

“Yes, of course.” He got up, wrapping himself in a towel, “And then watch Star Wars?” He asked hopefully.

“Yeah, what else we would watch?” “I don’t know,” He sighed, “A horror movie-” “I don’t like those, Gee.” You whined.

“I know,” He smiled, “That’s why we don’t watch them.” You got up yourself, taking part of a throw blanket to cover yourself as you walked into your walk in closet, grabbing your Star Wars PJs.

“Gee,” You called into his closet, “You better be wearing your-” “Star Wars PJs? Yeah, I know.” He walked out with them on, and you with yours.

“Perfect.” You smiled and he wrapped an arm around you.

“You know I am so proud of you, right?” He looked over at you as you were walking down the stairs. You smiled, blushing and involuntarily covering your face with your sleeves to hide it. “Oh c’mon! I wanna see your pretty face.” He complained.

“Thanks.” You looked up at him lightly, still shying away from the praise.

“C’mere sugar.” He opened up your arms which you walked in as he held you tightly, kissing the top of your head. “You really are perfect. Too perfect, but perfect.”

#gerard way x reader #gerard way fanfiction #gerard way #gee way #my chemical romance #My Chem #my chemical gerard #my chemical gee #my chemical romance x reader

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erhiem · 3 years ago

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From left: Photo by Gi Naps/Getty Images; Photo by Rose Hartman/Archive Photos/Getty Images; Photo by Victor Virgil/Gamma-Rafo via Getty Images

Today, the House of Jean Paul Gaultier is relaunching its ready-to-wear line after a hiatus of six years. It comes 16 months after fashion’s “Maestro of Mehmed”, as journalist Georgina Howell dubbed her in the early ’90s, took her final bow as the brand’s designer, implying that this iteration of its namesake. will not be designed. Instead, the reins are taken over by a dedicated team from their atelier, with help crafted from the rotating doors of some of the most independent designers working today – Palomo Spain, Ottolinger, Nix Lecourt Mansion, Alan Crosetti and Marvin M’Tumo .

Since starting his own label in 1976, Jean Paul has been instrumental in turning underwear into acceptable outerwear, making sailor fashion sexy and, more generally, paving the way for designers to experiment with diverse and unexpected castings on the runway. have been responsible for. He also dedicated an entire collection – AW97 – to the fight against racism. The collection, titled ‘Fight Racism’, featured graphic prints of young anti-fascists with slogans printed on their chests.

In fact, with such a rich history behind it, and vintage JPGs becoming increasingly collectible since the recent renaissance—partly stemming from the Kardashians’ love of all things net—more thanks to the label’s revival. Couldn’t be the right time- the line to wear from now. Although it is a well-known fact that Jean Paul himself decided to step back from the category in 2014 after a somewhat tumultuous feud with Florence Tetier (graphic designer and co-founder). November MagazineNow serving as the brand’s creative and brand director, Ghar is poised to enter the field again. in an interview with WWDJPG’s general manager, Antón Gégy, described the relaunch as an opportunity to “celebrate Jean Paul Gaultier, its values, its archives and its history”. And what better way to raise the glass to the core of fashion? Horrible Instead look at seven of the most show-stopping moments from its most iconic era, the ’90s. Long live Gaultier!

Photo by Gie Knaeps/Getty Images

Madonna’s Conical Corset from the Blonde Ambition Tour, 1990

Back in 1989, when Jean-Paul Gaultier was told by an assistant that Madonna had told the audience, she was convinced that he was playing a trick with her. They knew how obsessed he was with her, just could not do be true But she soon found herself on the phone to the original queen of pop, making a match in ’90s fashion heaven. Naturally, Madonna already knew what she wanted: to create something for her that surrounded Jean Paul’s signature masculine-feminine crossover. Inspired by his love of the late ‘queen of Paris punk’ Edwij Belmore, Jean Paul conceived a pinstripe suit – the top of ’80s manhood – and a corset with the now famous conical bra, which he designed six years ago on AW84 had started for. /85.

Photo by Victor Virgil/Gamma-Rafo via Getty Images

Eva Herzigova’s cut-out dress, 1992

Thought harnesses were a new thing on the runway? Wrong! After all, you’re not known as a fashionista Horrible Without a sprinkling of kinks here and there, as this look proves well. Presented on JPG’s AW92 runway, this dress, so slick in its fit that clothes can even put on Eva’s body, exemplifies the powerful-yet-playful take on sexuality that serves as a throughline throughout the French designer’s body of work. runs as. Styled with bicep-clad opera gloves and proudly crafting the Czech-Italian supermodel’s bust, there’s a distinctive dome-y tone at play here, though no compromise on the beauty of the silhouette or the quality of the make. It speaks to an ideological throughline that runs through Jean Paul’s work – that no matter who a woman is or wants to be, she always has the right to be chic!

Photo by Pierre Guillaud/AFP via Getty Images

Houndstooth bodysuit inspired by Leigh Bowery, 1991

In an interview with iD in 2018, Jean Paul declared his love for the “London Way”, which means “just creating your own style, your own creativity and being free to do what you want to do”. When he took the idea back to Paris, it wasn’t very popular, but that didn’t stop him from creating his own trademark approach to design. He spent his youth in the 80s at famous London nightclubs such as Blitz and Heaven, where he met performance artist Leigh Bowery. In a nod to Bowery’s influence on fashion, Jean Paul sent down his interpretation of the Leigh Bowery Houndstooth bodysuit—which would later inspire Alexander McQueen for AW09 and Gareth Pugh for SS07.

Photo by Pierre Guillaud/AFP via Getty Images

‘Chic Rabbi’ Collection, 1993

For AW93/94, Jean Paul presented the ‘Chic Rabbi’ collection, inspired by the traditional dress of Hasidic Jews. Models in streamels and black suits danced to the sounds of a violinist who played live on the catwalk. The usual circle of supermodels was there, but Jean Paul also decided to cast someone who visually embodied the cultural context: a man with a big beard. During the ’80s and ’90s, designers were known for their casting choices, pioneering their diversity. “I’m fascinated by strong personalities, people who capture my imagination because they walk well down the street,” Gaultier explained in a 2014 interview. “Showing just one type of girl is a flaw,” he adds, “something I’ve always fought with. One kind of beauty – no. If I show a bigger girl, I’ll always show a younger girl.” will show.” It is now legend that Gaultier once posted an advertisement in a French daily newspaper release Looking for “atypical” models, saying that “facial distortions should not be avoided in application”.

Photo by Arnal/Garcia/Gama-Rafo via Getty Images

Mesh Tattoo Top, 1993

Back in 1993, the trend Declared this prestigious collection as “a startling vision of cross-cultural harmony”. While we’d be inclined to cringe at the somewhat reasonable look now that Jean Paul drove down the runway for the SS94 (which can actually be read as another nod to Leigh Bowery) it certainly Historical perspective. It also marked the debut of Jean Paul’s iconic mesh tops, which were inspired by a tattoo convention he once found himself spinning around – today, they are some of his most sought-after designs. The collection also includes heavy notes of punk, grunge, and 18th century men’s frock coats made in Jodhpur and denim in the typical JPG style. How did he ever find the place for all this?!

Photo by Pierre Vuthe/Sigma/Sigma via Getty Images

Björk!, 1994

Jean Paul’s celebrity friends don’t start and end with Madonna. A year after Björk’s properly titled debut solo album, First entry, Taking the music and fashion worlds by storm, she appeared on the designer’s AW94/95 show, about a magical train that stopped in a small village somewhere high in some mountains. And what, duh?! As you’d expect from JPG, the show was a mish-mash this time in terms of different styles of traditional arctic costume. The models trotted down the snow-covered runway (which almost tripped Kate Moss), decked out in a hell of a lot of fur, silk, wool, and leather.

Photo by Pierre Verdi / AFP via Getty Images

Op-Art Inspired Catsuit, 1995

Two women riding a motorcycle hit them. One of them descends and climbs onto a loft at a DJ booth. Jean Paul’s AW95 ‘Mad Max’ Show Has Started. As he was in the middle of designing the costumes for Luc Besson’s famous film fifth element In which Bruce Willis and Milla Jovovich fight a mysterious cosmic force, they had science-fiction in mind, which means it was technology and cyber-heavy. The bodysuit inspired by Viktor Vasarelli’s op-art paintings became the show’s most memorable aspect—now made super collectible by Kim K and Cardi B and partly responsible for the JPG-madness we’re seeing on Depop these days. Also on the show was Carmen Dell’Orefice, who walked with a live falcon on her arm and sported ornate football armor that lit up like a circuit board. Really prestigious.

Photo by Victor Virgil/Gamma-Rafo via Getty Images

trompe l’oeil torso top, 1995

The next season, Jean Paul took his quest for sci-fi polka dots further, this time translating it into menswear. This time, however, he brought his knack for trompe l’oeil print placement to the table—skills he had previously flexed in the aforementioned Les Tautouzes, and even as early as 1992, when he sculpted the enviable Presented Printed Mesh Top with Toros. The look sported here by Tanel Bedrossiantz is perhaps a little more figurative in its approach, though no less direct is its infrared-style suggestion of what might lie beneath the longtime house muse’s button-down shirt.

Photo by Danielle Simon/Gamma-Rafo via Getty Images

JPG Set Sale, 1998

In a promo video for JPG’s new ready-to-wear line, Bella Hadid is wearing a big red ship on her head. In case you didn’t already know, it debuted at the Haute Couture SS98 show, where it takes us back to the Age of Enlightenment. It was a time of scientific progress, the advent of modern capitalism and of course colonialism. The ‘explorers’ were sailing around the world from Europe, ‘discovering’ new lands for them – a ship serving as a nod to the continent’s shameful past. Some say, however, that it was during the Enlightenment that the fashion we know today – as a form of self-expression that can be accessed by the public – first began to emerge, making the historical period a fashion show. became an ideal subject. .

Photo by Rose Hartman / Archive Photos / Getty Images

Man Himself!, 1992

Sure enough, to write a list of Jean Paul Gaultier’s most iconic looks from his most iconic decade, and not for the man himself. Indeed, as Florence Tetier spoke to her before the label’s launch, “Everybody knows who she is!” whether it’s his striped Whether paired with a pleated black skirt or, as seen here, a denim vest and a punkish tartan kilt, JPG’s personal style has made her one of the most instantly recognizable designers of our time. Plus, there’s a direct connection between what she wore and what we then saw on the runway. While we may have never seen a proper, French Navy-standard Sailor From the designer, “he’s done a lot of stripes and nautical-inspired pieces,” notes Florence. “It’s really nice to see the link between the way he dresses and the way he designs.” we love you, Jean Paul! Follow iD on Instagram and TikTok for more fashion.

The post Jean Paul Gaultier’s most iconic 90s moments appeared first on Spicy Celebrity News.

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raleighcarrera · 5 years ago

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catch up

platinum | raleigh carrera x mc (cadence dorian)

it’s been eight months since the breakup. they have a lot to catch up on.

~6k words, M (18+ only)

songs mentioned are gorgeous | no more sad songs | touch (acoustic)

he’d been wondering who would get around to dropping their album first. from the looks of the current trending topics on twitter, cadence had won. it looked like she’d even chosen to jack his style -- dropping her album in full with no announcement, no promotion, no warning... nothing.

color him impressed.

no more sad songs was number one on trending. just below it was the word touch. related topics: cadence dorian, raleigh carrera.

he told himself it was just his own narcissism that made him click. that, and morbid curiosity. it’d been so long since he’d last tortured himself, after all.

a long list of tweets stared innocently back at him. GOD touch is the sexiest song anyone has EVER WRITTEN I’M SCREAMING, said the first one. make it a single queen!!!! you deserve the hottie they will cast for that music video and more!!!!!

he scrolled down. sooooooooo are we going to talk about how touch is obviously about raleigh carrera giving that good dick or nah

his eyebrows shot up. well, now he had to listen to it.

he pulled up spotify; of course she was on the home page. with just a few taps, the song started to play. an impressive piano melody filled the room. she must have beep practicing. as her voice filtered in, he turned up the volume.

cadence sounded... soft and sad, and, the masses on twitter were right: sexy. god did her breathless, yearning voice sound sexy. despite himself, he could actually feel his face flush as he listened to the words. so won't you take it, i feel like for the first time i am not faking... fingers on my buttons and now you're playing. master of anticipation, don't you keep it all to yourself.

it took everything in him not to be consumed by the memories that were threatening, but the last thing he needed was to fall down that rabbit hole. he’d gone so long without thinking about her, after all. it was almost up to a full two days at this point, before something would inevitably remind him of her and he would spiral again.

the rest of her album stared back at him from his laptop screen. he studied the cover art as her voice filled the empty room. it was a photo of cadence, of course, a wide full-body shot against a brick wall. she looked powerful, in the sharp black outfit she was wearing, her skirt just short enough to make her legs look a few hundred miles long.

inhaling sharply, raleigh forcibly redirected his gaze to the track list, scanning the rest of the titles. his lips curved up into a smirk as he read them off, one by one. motorcycle boy. hollywood. tattoos and bad news. subtlety was never her strong point.

then again, he mused, as he considered his own journal and the songs inside it -- kaleidoscope dress. ferris wheel. lady liberty. sex at the moda. -- he really wasn’t one to talk. not that his label would ever let him get away with that last one. it was just a working title, anyway.

he navigated back to twitter and tapped the moment about her album, no more sad songs. the first tweet he saw said omgggg i love the energy of cadence building raleigh up in ‘gorgeous’ and then tearing him down in ‘shout out to my ex’ so much kdhfgksjfhdg HER MIND this album is everything

it looked like he had some listening to do. but first...

he strolled over to the far wall of his bedroom and pulled off his shirt, sidling up to the floor length mirror by the window to take a selfie. his free hand pushed his hair back from his face, and he stuck his tongue out at his reflection as he snapped the picture.

it was just trolling, he told himself as he uploaded the photo to his pictagram, already laughing at his own joke while he typed out the caption. it wasn’t like he was trying to get anyone’s attention -- he just couldn’t resist giving the fans and the internet something to talk about.

raleigh smirked at his phone as the photo finished uploading and stared back at him from his feed. photograph with no t-shirt on. well, there was no taking it back now. if cadence was allowed to write about him, he was allowed to enjoy it, right?

five minutes later, his phone rang. it was avery. he took care to pause cadence’s album before he picked up the phone. “helloooooooo?”

“you know you broke the internet, right?” she asked, aprops of a greeting.

a shit-eating grin appeared on his face. “i have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“you’re such a dick,” she laughed, “you just couldn’t let her have one day, could you? you could congratulate her, you know. she worked really hard on that thing.”

“um, i basically gave her a number one album,” he remarked, his bravado a mask as always. “without me she would’ve had, like, one track on that thing. or she wouldda had to write about you. so you’re welcome, too.”

raleigh pulled his phone away from his face to squint down at his pictagram notifications. stream no more sad songs!! said the last ten comments. omg shout out to my ex is right

“besides, i’m getting trolled. like, a lot. i doubt she cares what i post.”

“i wouldn’t be so sure about that,” avery remarked cryptically. before he had a chance to wonder what that meant, she said, “hey, she’s playing a surprise show tonight at webster hall before the album release party. you should stop by.”

“i think if she wanted me to come to her party she would’ve invited me.” it might’ve been nice to hear from her -- especially given the intimate details about their relationship he was now being forced to listen to, along with millions of other people.

you’re not being fair, he reminded himself, thinking again of sex at the moda. he hardly intended to give her a heads-up about that one. though he doubted she would care.

not that he cared. she could write about whatever she wanted. she could turn her life into art -- if that was what she wanted. she could tell... whoever, about what had happened between them. about what he’d made her feel.

she never told him, but, whatever. that was fine. that was her prerogative.

“earth to raleigh,” avery said on the line, snapping him out of his thoughts. “i said, she didn’t tell anyone about the party. the album was a secret, yeah? you should at least come to the show. i think your support would mean a lot to her.”

“well, i guess you’ll just have to support her enough for the both of us,” he said, meaner than he felt. raleigh shut his eyes, sighing as he rubbed at his forehead. “sorry. i’m not trying to be an asshole.”

“don’t sweat it.” avery always let him off the hook so easily, “i know it just comes naturally to you. seriously, the show starts at 7. think about it, okay? if you do decide to come, text me when you get there and i’ll let you in the back.”

he put the album back on as soon as they hung up. without a distraction, there was nothing to stop him from looking at cadence’s twitter account. she’d last posted just a few minutes ago:

surprise! i’ll be playing no more sad songs in its entirety tonight at webster hall’s marlin room. doors open at 6 for the first 600 in line. see you there? you never know who might drop by...

fuck it. he turned the volume up on her album and headed towards the shower. he’d avoided her for long enough, and tonight was as good a night for him to get over himself as any. maybe after this he could stop looking over his shoulder at every party he went to, terrified he’d have to see her.

that didn’t mean that it didn’t feel like a mistake, to get dressed and make his way to the village. it felt like a bad decision every step of the way, even as he ducked around the back of the venue at 7:05 to see avery’s smiling face, holding the backstage door wide open. it was too late to go home, now.

“took you long enough,” she grinned, squealing as she jumped into his arms. “i almost thought you weren’t going to show.”

“yeah, yeah. did she go on yet?”

avery led him inside, closing the door firmly behind them both. she nodded as they stepped up to the side of the stage. the screams from the crowd were deafening. “she just went out there. i think she’s about to start --”

raleigh heard the strum of a guitar and peeked around to see cadence standing center stage. “this is a really good looking crowd,” she said, grinning when the sound of the cheers rose exponentially. “thanks so much for coming out. are you guys cool if i play some tunes? yeah? okay, then. this first one is about a guy i used to date, it’s called ‘gorgeous.’”

he folded his arms over his chest, leaning back against the wall behind them. he was shameless in the way he looked her up and down, staring as she strutted across the stage. he was proud of her -- she’d come a long way since the first time he saw her perform, so long ago. cadence had real stage presence, now -- she’d come into her own. she acted like a woman, sang like a woman, dressed like a woman. she was confident.

“whiskey on ice, sunset and vine. you’ve ruined my life by not being mine.” an elbow in his side made raleigh tear his eyes from her. he looked over at avery, rubbing at his ribs. “ow. what was that for?”

“you know everyone thinks this one is about you, right?” she asked, smirking.

“you make me so happy it turns back to sad, there’s nothing i hate more than what i can’t have.”

“aren’t they all about me?” raleigh asked, still hiding behind his attitude. avery only rolled her eyes, and eventually the crowd’s screams drowned out anything else they might’ve wanted to say.

she played a few more songs before finally sitting down at the piano off to the side of the stage. now that she was closer, raleigh could see her better, and he stared as she brushed her hand across her forehead, pushing her hair off her face. she drank deeply from a water bottle and then set it on the piano’s ledge. raleigh was close enough to watch her swallow, but she still didn’t see him. it was probably the stage lights -- a single spotlight illuminated her at the piano as she adjusted the mic to pull it closer to her lips.

“we’re gonna slow it down for just one song,” cadence said, “i hope you don’t mind.” the cheers from the crowd proved that they didn’t. “i saw ya’ll talking about this one on twitter earlier.” he could see her grin perfectly from where he was standing; it was blinding. “i’m glad you like it. even if you don’t post thirst traps to it.”

the crowd went wild. even raleigh barked out a laugh; he hardly thought she had it in her. okay. point one, cadence.

“put your flashlights in the air for this one, okay? you and i and nobody else... feeling feelings i never felt...”

she was beautiful, of course -- always, every day, but never more than in this moment, with her eyes closed and her expression haunted, her hands moving along the piano keys. it probably said something dangerous about his ego that he found her the most stunning when she was singing about him.

as the last few notes died, he sighed, digging his fingernails into the fabric of his jacket over his arms where they were folded on his chest. suddenly, it felt like he shouldn’t be there. or maybe he was the only one who should be there. either way, he hardly wanted to think about it.

her moment of silent reflection as the song ended was gone in a flash. he watched her take a breath to steady herself, and then cadence was back in her stage persona, hopping off the piano bench to grab her guitar again. “thank you so much, new york city. you’ve been amazing. i’m so glad i could share this album with you -- it’s one of the most personal things i’ve ever written, and it means so much to me to play it for you all like this.”

“this is the last song i have for you tonight -- it’s the title track, no more sad songs. it’s the last song i wrote for the album. this song is about trying to get over someone you can’t help but think about by any means necessary. it’s about the point in a breakup where you’re tired of wallowing and you’ll do anything you can to make yourself feel better -- i like to think it’s about the acceptance stage of grief. anyway, it felt right to keep it last... to name the album after it. i’m finally at a place in my life where i can put this chapter behind me. and it took a lot to get there, and i’m so proud of that. so, with that being said...”

the crowd cheered as she strummed the first few notes. “thank you guys again so fucking much. sing along if you know the words already, okay?”

it was the second time that day he’d heard the song. it still made him feel the same way he’d felt when he first heard it -- angry and surprised and unsettled... and guilty. why hadn’t she ever told him she felt that way? why hadn’t she called him, and more importantly, why had he never called her, again?

his gaze hardened as she stopped at the front of the stage for the bridge. the same single spotlight illuminated her again.

“uh, why do you have that murdery look?” avery asked from beside him. he said nothing, watching the melody build around cadence as she approached the crowd.

“still got you on my mind, starting to realize... no matter what i do, i will only harm myself tryn’a hurt you, and if i turn the music loud just to drown you out --”

her head tipped back with the powerful crescendo. she looked like an angel under the spotlight, more beautiful than he even knew how to explain. his chest seized painfully.

abruptly, he turned around and headed back towards the backstage door. he knew he only had moments until the last song ended and cadence rushed backstage, and he needed to get out of there before that happened.

“raleigh!” avery called after him, but he didn’t stop, throwing open the back door and stepping out onto the sidewalk... immediately into a crowd of waiting fans and paparazzi.

a cacophony of screams started from the street. “ohmygod, it’s raleigh carrera!”

fuck. venue security glared at him as he shoved sunglasses on -- fuck the fact that it was nine o’clock at night -- and rushed off down the sidewalk. so much for getting in and out before cadence saw him. there’d be pictures of his exit all over social media in moments. paparazzi called after him as he rushed to the intersection, eyes scanning the street desperately for a working cab.

he stuck his hand out just as one with its lights on slid to a stop at the corner, jumping inside and slamming the door closed. camera flashes still shone behind his eyes even as he shoved the palms of his hands into them, drawing in a deep breath. sighing shakily, he met the driver’s eyes in the rearview mirror. “88th and park. please.”

once he was alone in his apartment he felt like he wanted to put his fist through a wall. the urge to destroy something, anything was too strong -- because that was what he was supposed to do, wasn’t it? that’s what raleigh carrera would do.

she deserved so much better than him. the last thing she needed was to see him at her show and get sucked back into his bullshit. he paced around his living room, convincing himself he’d done the right thing. she’d moved on, after all -- she was happy, thriving. she didn’t need him around messing up her life. she’d practically said so herself.

his phone vibrated where he’d dumped it on the coffee table, sliding onto the carpeted floor. raleigh couldn’t think of anyone he wanted to talk to, but he bent down and picked it up anyway.

he almost jumped out of his skin when he saw the caller id. cadence dorian. tongue out emoji. winking emoji. music note.

“hello?”

“oh, so your phone isn’t down a well somewhere. okay, just checking. good to know.”

she hung up.

he glared down at the phone in his hand. what the fuck? raleigh called her back before he even knew what he was doing.

“what?” she answered, though she sounded annoyed. like... really annoyed.

“what is your problem?” he demanded.

“my problem?” she laughed. he could barely hear her over the commotion on the other end of the line -- someone was calling her name repeatedly in a way that sounded urgent -- and then a door slammed, and there was quiet. “my problem, okay. i don’t have a problem. i’m not the one out here subtweeting and sneaking in and out of your show without calling, am i?”

“no, you’re just writing and releasing an entire sixteen-song album about me and all the ways i ruined your life without calling,” he snapped, his patience finally wearing thin enough to crumble. “don’t you think it might’ve been nice for you to give me a heads-up?”

“oh, please,” cadence scoffed, and he could feel that she was getting angry now, too. it felt good, in an awful sort of way. at least it was something. “i should have to clear it with you every time i write a song?”

“not a heads-up about the album,” he grit out, the fingers of his free hand flexing with the urge to throw something, “a heads-up about the way you fucking felt. you never say a goddamn word about any of that to me and i have to find out about it for the first time with -- everyone else? that’s really fucking special, cadence. that means a lot to me.”

there was silence on the other end of the line, giving him a moment to try to calm himself down. cadence was only ever quiet when she’d been surprised, meaning she wasn’t expecting him to say that. but she was certainly silent, then; if he couldn’t still hear her breathing raggedly, he might’ve assumed that she hung up on him again.

finally, she spoke, her voice small and unsure. “raleigh...”

but he wasn’t done fighting with her yet. “what’s the matter? you never thought that it might actually hurt my feelings? i guess that’s on me for giving a shit.”

“raleigh,” cadence said again, more insistently this time, “i didn’t know how to --”

“how to what, cadence? not break up with me? not ignore me for eight months afterwards? not pretend like it didn’t mean anything to you? it’s not that difficult.”

“well, obviously it was too difficult for you to do, too. you didn’t call me, either. so i’m supposed to believe -- what, exactly? that you missed me? that’s convincing, when you’re never out without a model on your arm.”

she sounded hurt. why did she sound hurt? she was the one who’d stomped on his heart, she was the one who’d wanted this.

“get over yourself,” he bit out, his hand curling into a fist at his side. he was never going to get his security deposit back after what he was about to do to his penthouse. “you knew i was in love with you and you didn’t care. which is fine. you don’t have to... just own it. stop acting like i did something to you.”

suddenly, the commotion on the other end of the line was back. “i have to go,” she said softly, her voice barely a whisper.

he hung up without saying goodbye, throwing his phone onto the couch. okay. that was fine. everything was fine.

except that he couldn’t possibly stand to be in his apartment for another moment -- not without doing something stupid.

he grabbed his keys and his phone and left, slamming the door behind him. his fingers drummed restlessly on his thighs as he rode the elevator down to the lobby. there were paparazzi waiting outside the front door of his building -- raleigh could see them through the glass as soon as he stepped out of the elevator. with a grimace, he headed for the back door.

there was already a car waiting for him. “let’s go to kismet,” he directed, rapidly firing off text messages to anyone he knew who might be available to distract him.

within minutes, he was inside the club at a vip table. there was a bottle of vodka sitting in a bucket of ice at the center of the booth, calling out to him. he lifted it straight to his lips, drinking as much as he could in one go without coughing. she’d always used to joke about his self-destructive tendencies. if only she could see him now.

“hey, raleigh.” belle tamblyn stood before him, smiling in the low light of the club. she must’ve just gotten back from paris fashion week. two of her friends had already sat down at the booth, talking among themselves.

he leaned back into the booth with a charming smile. “hey, belle. i knew you missed me.”

she laughed, taking his words as an invitation to sit down in his lap. he didn’t push her off, wrapping an arm around her narrow shoulders. she was taller and thinner than cadence in a way that wasn’t unfamiliar to him, but wasn’t exactly welcome, either. you’re never out without a model on your arm.

“so,” she started, looking down at him from up close, “what’ve you --”

he leaned up and kissed her, sliding a hand into her hair. her lips parted in surprise, sticky with lip gloss. raleigh bit her bottom lip and she sighed breathlessly, and that was -- good. that was almost... close enough.

his free hand slid over her backside, pulling her in closer. she was breathing hard when she pulled away, her face flushed.

raleigh laughed, pushing his fingertips under the hem of her dress. she reached down and swatted playfully at his chest.

“you’re an asshole,” she said primly, but she was rubbing her hand over the muscles in his chest. “do you want to get out of here?”

the last thing he wanted was to bring her back to his apartment, or to be there at all. “i don’t think i can wait that long,” he said charmingly, “bathroom?”

her nose scrunched up as she considered it, staring down at him. then, she said, “fine,” and slid up off his lap. he grinned, grabbing her hand and tugging her off toward the back of the club.

it was a single person bathroom, and blessedly empty when they arrived. no one paid them any attention as he pulled her inside and flipped the lock.

raleigh lifted her onto the sink and leaned in to kiss her again. she moaned as he pushed her legs apart and stepped between them, sliding his hands up her thighs.

this was fine. this was what he wanted.

so why couldn’t he force himself to do what he knew he was supposed to? his hands didn’t seem to want to move from where he’d anchored them on her legs, his lips kissing her methodically but not doing much else.

she wants to have sex with you! his brain screamed at him, she is a supermodel. a supermodel who wants to have sex with you.

impatiently, her hands slid to the waistband of his jeans. he didn’t stop her as she pulled the zipper down and slipped her hand under the waistband of his briefs.

it’s not a big deal. you’ve done this a million times. never after an argument like that with cadence, though... only when she was busy pretending he didn’t exist...

the bass of the music playing in the club vibrated through the closed door. the song sounded painfully familiar -- he strained to make out what it was...

of course it was a dance remix of ‘gorgeous.’ why wouldn’t it be?

panting, he pulled his mouth off of belle’s, tipping their foreheads together. “hey,” he started hoarsely, licking his lips as he glanced down towards where her hand was wrapped around him, “i’m sorry, but i don’t... have anything. i don’t think we should...”

have unprotected sex in a nightclub bathroom. her teeth dug into her bottom lip as she weighed her options. on any other night, that might have actually been flattering, but tonight...

pounding on the bathroom door made their minds up for them. he stepped back, adjusting himself in his jeans. “come on.”

he helped her down off the sink and opened the door, ready to lead her back out into the club. the line of people waiting to use the bathroom stared open-mouthed at them both as they walked off toward the booth. raleigh grinned at them as he walked past -- that was what he was supposed to do, right?

belle’s friends barely arched an eyebrow at her as they sat down again. immediately, he started pouring drinks and passing them out -- anything to be as drunk as possible before the song ended.

by the time he stumbled home, alone, it was late -- later than he’d wanted to be out. he used the front door -- not because he wanted any paparazzi to get photos of him going home alone or anything, but because he felt like it -- and waited until he was in the elevator to sigh frustratedly, decidedly not checking his phone. he knew there was no way she’d texted him.

cadence was sitting on the floor outside of his apartment door when he stepped out into the hallway.

he stared at her like she was a hallucination, lifting one hand to his eyes to rub at them. maybe he had more to drink than he’d thought. she looked up at him, still dressed in what she must’ve worn to her album release party.

he felt like he was going to throw up. god, that would be uncool.

“hi,” she said quietly, from the floor. wordlessly, he stepped closer to her and held out his hand. she took it, letting him pull her up. “can i talk to you?”

that wasn’t going to be easy, considering he had absolutely no idea what to say, but raleigh nodded, unlocking his front door and motioning for her to step inside.

he didn’t turn the lights on, letting the floor-to-ceiling windows illuminate the space. the lights from the city and the glow of the moon made cadence look almost ethereal as she slowly wandered over towards the far wall, hesitating for a moment before kicking her high-heeled shoes off. despite himself, his lips twitched up into a smile as he watched her.

“want a drink?” he asked, because he certainly did.

she nodded, and he moved to the bar cart to pour them both a half-full glass of vodka. he dropped an ice cube into his and poured orange juice over hers.

raleigh forced his feet to join her at the windows, silently holding her glass out to her. she took it with a mumble of thanks, lifting it to her lips. her eyes were trained on the view. what the fuck was she doing here?

the silence stretched between them. finally, he said, “congratulations on the album. it’s really good.”

that seemed to snap her out of it. she snuck a glance at him out of the corner of her eye. “you listened to it?”

he nodded. no point in lying about it, now. “i’m a narcissist,” he joked, “it’s what i do.”

she laughed. raleigh stuffed his free hand into his pocket so that he wouldn’t reach out for her. god, he’d missed her laugh.

he drained what was left in his glass in one go. “what’re you doing here?”

cadence was still staring out at the city. “i wanted to talk to you.”

“and yet, here you are. not talking.”

“i didn’t get that far when i planned this in my head,” she admitted, in an annoyingly endearing way. god damnit.

“how far did you get?”

she turned to look at him, then, leaning her shoulder against the window. “i thought maybe i would just kiss you when you got here and that would say everything i wanted to say. but then i chickened out.”

it felt like she’d just elbowed him in the stomach. “that doesn’t sound like you.”

“the kissing? i don’t know, i thought about it kind of a lot...”

he swallowed hard. “the chickening out.”

“oh.” she nodded, looking away. raleigh watched her stare down at the glass in her hands. “i guess i just felt like i already messed up so much. i didn’t want to... do the wrong thing again.”

raleigh couldn’t quite decide if he was too drunk for this conversation or not drunk enough. “how was your party?”

“it was fine. i think the last one i had -- for the odyssey -- was better.”

there was a night he didn’t want to relive. “look,” he sighed finally, turning back towards the windows and the city skyline, “i didn’t mean to put you in an uncomfortable position. if you’re only here because you think i’m upset... you don’t have to be. i’ll be fine.”

he could see her shifting out of his peripheral vision. she seemed to be considering what she wanted to say. finally, she spoke up. “that’s not why i’m here.” he turned towards her and watched as her shoulders squared. “i’m here because i missed you. a lot. and i wanted to apologize, for what happened between us... for shutting you out. for not telling you how i felt -- that i was in love with you, too. for letting you go.”

raleigh’s grip tightened on his glass so that he wouldn’t drop it on the floor. he stared at her like he was seeing her for the first time.

cadence drew in a deep breath and continued, “getting over you was the hardest thing i ever had to do. and when i saw the pictures of you leaving the show tonight i realized... i failed miserably at it. i can’t get over you. i couldn’t. i won’t.”

he had to be imagining this, right? he was drunk and asleep in his limo, he had to be. he was dreaming.

but she felt very, very real when she reached out and twined her fingers in the fabric of his shirt.

“please say something,” she begged. she was undeniable.

“cadence...” he sighed, “you know how i feel.”

she nodded, once. “i do, but i want to hear you say it.”

“i want you to be my fucking girlfriend,” he admitted immediately, his voice hoarse. now that he’d given in, his free hand reached out and cupped her cheek. “for real. all the time. in front of everyone. i want you to move in, i never want us to go another day without talking. i don’t want anyone else to touch you. ever again.”

her lips parted. he couldn’t stop his thumb from pressing into her invitingly full bottom lip, watching in fascination as her eyelids fluttered. “raleigh,” she breathed, beautifully enough to do his head in.

he stepped forward swiftly, pressing her back against the windows, and kissed her. she moaned, scrambling to set her glass on the side table next to her. he knew her hands were free when they shoved into his hair.

fuck, if he hadn’t been wanting this for so long. his lips broke off of her to trail kisses across her jaw, down towards her neck. he couldn’t stop his fingers from tugging at her dress insistently. “do you want that?” he demanded. raleigh felt her nod against him. his teeth scraped across her pulse point. “say it.”

“raleigh!” she exclaimed. it was the most amazing sound in the world. his hips pushed forward insistently, grinding between her thighs. the force of it pushed her back into the windows. “i want it, i want you. i want all of it -- everything.”

the urgency to fuck her through the window was balancing precariously against his desire to do things right -- to give her what she deserved. with a huff, he wrapped his arms around her and lifted her up, walking them both off towards his bedroom.

she laughed again as he dumped her on the mattress, hard enough to make her bounce. raleigh grinned back at her as he whipped his shirt off of his head, tossing it to the floor. she was scrambling up the mattress, and he chased her towards the headboard, kneeling on top of her when she finally laid back.

he crowded her in close for another kiss, his hands everywhere at once. she whined into his lips, kissing him so urgently, like they didn’t have all the time in the world, now. “i missed you,” she breathed, her hands clutching at his shoulders desperately.

“i missed you too, beautiful,” he returned, pushing her dress up her thighs, “now lie back and let me make you feel good.”

his head was spinning by the time they’d finished, and not because of the drinks he’d had. cadence was tucked up under his arm, her head pillowed on his chest. she was still catching her breath as she dragged her fingertips along the tattoo spanning the expanse of his ribs.

the sun was starting to come up outside, filtering light into his bedroom. he stared at her face, illuminated by the dawning daylight. “you know, if anyone here is gorgeous, it’s you.”

“oh my god,” she mumbled, pressing her face into his skin, “you’re never going to let this go, are you?”

he smirked up at the ceiling as he pulled her in closer. “would you say it makes you so mad?”

“i’m going home,” she threatened, pinching his side. he laughed, squirming away from her hand. “this is over. you ruined it.”

“well, what if i want to come along?”

“raleigh,” she groaned finally, kicking him under the covers, “stop it.”

he snickered, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “what, you’re allowed to write about me, but i’m not allowed to enjoy it?”

“please,” she sighed, settling in against his chest again, “like you don’t write about me.”

“i never said that,” he hummed, already imagining the things her face would do when she finally got to listen to his album, if he ever finished it. “i’m really hoping the label doesn’t make me change the name of sex at the moda.”

“okay, you did not write a song called ‘sex at the moda.’ tell me you didn’t.”

“i’d hate to lie.”

she lifted her head to look at him, her face flushing. “will you play it for me?”

he eyed the guitar in the corner of his bedroom. like he could ever say no to her. still...

“maybe later,” he grinned, rolling over to pin her beneath him, the sheets tangling around their legs. “i can think of a better use of our time. we have a lot to catch up on.”

her arms wound around his neck. “tell me about it.”

#raleigh carrera #cadence dorian #raleigh carrera x mc #raleigh x mc #raleigh x cadence #platinum #choices platinum #myfic #i think of cadence's sound as like very pop-forward so that's where the song choices came from #also bc the little mix songs came on shuffle and made me think of them #i hope you guys like this !! i've had it in my drafts for literally 2 weeks debating whether or not i should post it lmao #i think it's kind of corny with the song choices but the second half of it picked up to me so idk #i want it out of my drafts for organizational purposes lol i hope some of you like it anyway !!

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