#nice to let loose and not stress over art too much

[kaylakat2]

Been playing around with some old magazines recently and realized they had a lot of spiders so, obviously I had to make a magnus archives inspired collage. I'm sure no one can guess which statement I chose for the tape...

[dontaskmemybias]

Pretty

Pairing: Idol!Lee Know x afab Ninth Member!reader Request: Yes Theme: Friends to Lovers Contains: Anxiety, Hurt/comfort, jealousy, teeny angst if you squint. There is no smut in this part, its all buildup lmao sorry but there will be smut in the next part. Word Count: 10k+ Note: This is a work of fiction and does not portray any of the members irl. I decided to go with a friends to lovers slow burn since you wanted a longer fic anon and I figured I could do a bit more like this, and I was correct, I started writing and just like never stopped? This has become a behemoth of a story and I'll be releasing it in two parts because damn. I know you requested this like a year ago but life happened hard, hopefully you still get to read it.

Author's Personal Note: This week has been awful. I can't describe how tired and scared I have been since Tuesday morning. I haven't written in almost a year because my motivation just was not there and I don't know if it was the existential dread or the overwhelming urge to just be in control of some narrative that drove me to start writing this absolute beast of a story but here we are. Enjoy it, don't, I don't really care either way.

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Snow blankets the surrounding hills as you burrow yourself further into your winter puffer. The boys are all running around the field, throwing snowballs at each other and cackling wildly. You chuckle to yourself seeing their childlike display. You have all gathered to film SKZCode "Winter is Coming" (you and the boys had been binge watching Game of Thrones in your free time and decided to take a little inspiration from it for the title) You let out a laugh when you see Changbin nail Hyunjin in the back of the head with a snowball and in true Jinnie fashion Hyunjin dramatically flails on the ground until Changbin comes over to comfort him.

You had been through so much with these eight boys, late nights in the studio recording your parts until they were perfect, early mornings in the dance studio drilling choreography until it was perfect, you loved it all, but moments like these when you could all let loose and have some fun? Those were your favorites.

Being the only woman in the group was a bit of a challenge in some ways, but it was nice having eight guys to look out for you in every aspect of life. You had formed a bond with these guys over the years, each friendship blossoming and holding something unique.

If you ever needed a shoulder to cry on, you knew you could turn to your leader Bang Chan and he wouldn't just comfort you, he would help you figure out what to do. Only one year your senior and yet his wisdom was that of an 85 year old war vet. Chan was your rock.

Need workout tips or someone to belt girl group songs with? Changbin was your man. He was always willing to help you stay healthy, whether that be helping you with your fitness routine, or working on your mental health. Changbin was there for you when antis said you looked too fat and cheered you up all night. He was the ultimate hype man.

Felix was often in your dorm baking with you when you were stressed (stress baking is both a blessing and a curse). He would massage your shoulders when you got too tense. He really was the sunshine in your life.

Whenever you wanted to try something new—a restaurant, an online game, anything at all—Seungmin would join you. He would say he had been meaning to go there or try that anyway, and this just gave him an excuse, but you knew he did it, so you didn't ever feel lonely. He was like the little brother you never had.

You and Hyunjin bonded over your love for art. The two of you had done all the cheesy trends where you paint for ten minutes then swap paintings until they are both finished (it ended up with an abomination with a cat head and a wolf body, you named it Lee Bang after Felix, Bang Chan, and Lee Know, you both laughed so hard you were in tears) you also would often sketch one another to get better at portraits. Time spent with Hyunjin was always amazing.

Anytime you had a fashion emergency you knew you could count on Innie. He would roast your outfits when they were too "millennial sheik" as he would say, but then immediately assist. He was also great to couch rot and watch movies with on your off days. He was basically your bestie.

Anytime you were feeling down and you just really needed a good laugh you knew that you could turn to Jisung. You and Jisung had bonded very hard very early on because you both suffer from anxiety and panic attacks. The two of you had helped each other through so many at this point it was basically second nature. When you ugly sob in front of someone and they trust you enough to do it in return you know it's a friendship built to last. You and Jisung were basically soulmates.

Finally there was Minho. Your relationship with Minho was… interesting, to say the least. You grew close with him simply because he was your soulmate's soulmate. Anywhere Minho went, Jisung went, and anywhere Jisung went, you went. So the three of you grew very close very fast. Minho's sense of humor perfectly matched yours and the two of you would often bicker back and forth simply because it was fun and it often drove the other members crazy. The bickering started innocently enough, however, a few months ago something changed. The bickering you loved became… borderline flirty? The other members often referred to you both as a married couple and would call Jisung your son. It was all in good fun and it really didn't bother you, but every time someone outside the group made the same jokes, Minho would get this look on his face. You couldn't quite place the emotion behind it, but you recently found yourself thinking about it for much too long.

You are brought back to the present from your ruminating when something wet and cold hits the back of your head followed by maniacal laughter.

"Minnie, that was evil!" You try to sound mad but you can't hide the giggles that escape you at the younger boys' antics. He just sticks his tongue out as you and laughs while running away.

You are fully laughing now, trying to shake the snow out of your hair when you feel warm arms wrap around you from behind.

"You're shivering little moon bear" Minho's breathy chuckle ruffles your hair and you laugh.

Shuffling in his arms to face him you look up and pout. "It's cold out! Of course I'm shivering Min. And why do you insist on referring to me by my SKZOO?"

"Because I find the little pout you do every time I do adorable." He smirks down at you and you think the flush adorning your ears is no longer just from the cold.

"YOH LOVEBIRDS GET OVER HERE IT'S TIME TO FILM!" Changbin's voice rings out over the set and you flinch a little which causes Minho to hold you just a bit tighter.

"Come on moon bear, time to film." He gently whispers to you while tucking you under his arm and leading you toward the group.

~✨~

Filming was going great! Sledding with a pitcher of water was pretty hard but you had loads of fun and managed not to come in last. When it came to the balloon popping portion Minho decided to come behind you like he had before filming and wrap his arms around you.

He leaned in to whisper in your ear "You looked cold again little moon bear." You chuckled when he began swaying you both side to side.

"You're going to start a dating rumor if you keep this up Min." You whispered back.

"Let people talk, how can I just stand by while my favorite girl freezes?" Your breath hitched a little at the comment, whispered so close to your ear you could almost feel his lips on your skin.

"Fair, but you have to deal with the staff if it becomes a problem." You sighed out, settling into his warm arms.

He was glued to you for the rest of the shoot.

~✨~

After getting home from the very fun, very cold, shoot, you decided to take a nice long hot shower and then maybe order some delivery when you got out.

You took your time in the shower until you were basically out of hot water then wrapped yourself in your fluffiest towel and went to the kitchen for some water. Your heart almost fell out of your ass and you let out a shriek when you walked by your living room and saw two people sitting on your couch.

"Y/NNIE My eardrums! Why did you have to scream so loud?" Jisung wailed from his spot on the couch.

"Yeah you baby it's just us damn." Minho scoffed. They both froze when they turned and saw you in just a towel, Minho's ears turning a fiery red and Jisung's eyes going wide. They both quickly looked away and started stammering out apologies, not realizing your state of dress. You let out a giggle at their reactions.

"Chill guys, you act like you've never seen a girl in a towel before, you just scared the shit out of me because I didn't know you were coming." They both let out a little laugh at that and relaxed a bit into the couch, still looking anywhere other than at your towel-clad form.

"Sorry, we wanted to surprise you with Kimchi Jjigae since you were so cold today and maybe watch some movies?" Jisung said quietly.

"You brought food? Ignore my previous complaints, Ji, Min, you are both angels who could do no wrong and I love you with all my heart! Let me put some clothes on then we can watch whatever you want yeah?"

"Yeah" "Sounds good" The boys yelled back as you went to your room to change.

You all spent the rest of the night tangled up on the couch watching shitty rom-coms

~✨~

The next morning after dance practice you get home and shower then realize that you're finally going to have a morning free the next day. Scrolling through your phone looking for things to do you come across a poster for the newest horror flick that's showing tonight. You screenshot it and drop it into the group chat titled "SoulBros" Jisung's idea.

SoulBros:

JiJi😘🥰😂: Oh hell no! That movie looks way too scary! Sorry love ur on ur own.

Min😈😘😜: Sorry I promised Lix I would help him with the new choreo.

🌝Bear: You both suck :/ Guess I'll go alone.

JiJi😘🥰😂: Noona ur so old just use emojis 😑

You laugh at Ji's dig; it is accurate. You guess it's time to pull out the big guns. You dial the number on your phone, and on the third ring, it picks up.

"Yes old lady?" You scoff at his (fake) disrespect.

"Minnie, I want to go see the new horror movie tonight because we have a free morning tomorrow but Ji is too scared to come and Minho is busy. Should I go alone?" You bite back your smile knowing what he is going to say.

Seungmin's voice cracks a bit over the phone call and you hear sheets rustling. "That new one about the witch in the woods? I've actually been wanting to see that too but everyone's too scared to come with me. I could go with you if you want?" You smile to yourself, you knew he wouldn't let you go to the movies alone, let alone to a horror film.

~✨~

"That was INSANE! I had no idea he had a brother the whole time!" You are bouncing up and down, filled with adrenaline from the movie.

"Yeah, that was a twist I actually didn't see coming. Pretty crazy." Seungmin is acting all calm but you know he enjoyed the movie as well.

"Hey Minnie, thanks for coming with me. I had a really fun time!" You say while ruffling his hair.

"Yeah yeah, like I said, I wanted to see it too."

"Hey wanna go grab some food before we go home? There's this hot pot spot nearby I've been dying to try!" You look at him with puppy-dog eyes and he lets out a sigh.

"Yeah I'm pretty hungry, and hot pot does sound amazing right about now."

~✨~

After stuffing your faces at the new hot pot place you finally made your way back home. Walking in you let out a long satisfied sigh and take off your shoes.

"Someone's home late." You nearly jump out of your skin at the grumbly voice coming from your living room.

"Jesus Fuck Min one of these days you're gonna give me a heart attack!" You yell out while grabbing a blanket from your armchair and bringing it to the couch where you unceremoniously plop down next to Minho who acts annoyed at your proximity but is quick to wrap an arm around you.

"Where were you? I've been here for like thirty minutes." He almost sounds… worried? Angry? You can't place it.

"Oh I just went to see that movie I texted you and Ji about then went and got some hot pot."

"Alone?"

"Oh no, Minnie came with me. Said he had been wanting to see the movie too but you know that kid, he just doesn't like me doing things alone." Minho grumbles something that you can't quite make out but then squeezes you to his side and turns on the TV.

"What was that Min?"

"I would've gone with you." He looks you dead in the eyes when he says it. You can't figure it out but it almost seems like he's mad at you?

"Well sorry Min, you said you were busy and I didn't know you wanted to see the movie too, I'd see it again if you wanted to go see it?" You try smiling at him to quell whatever was going on with him and it seems to work because he cracks a tiny smile and just pulls you closer to him while putting on the first shitty rom-com he sees.

~✨~

It was finally time for the next SKZCode! The staff didn't tell anyone what these episodes would be about but said you would all have fun.

You walked into the studio and saw a giant game board and war flashbacks of the last time you all played monopoly flashed through your mind. Images of Hyunjin screaming at Seungmin for putting a hotel on the most expensive rent on the board and Seungmin's shit-eating grin flashed through your mind.

The staff quickly explained the game and everyone got super excited. SoulRACHA was glued together any chance you got as per usual and everything was going great… until they announced the heart fluttering game.

Now, you wouldn't say your heart fluttered easily, if Felix had tried to get your heart racing you're sure you would be fine. Changbin? Piece of cake. Of course, you've never been very lucky.

You get paired with Minho. The expert at getting you worked up. (When you bicker! Get your mind out of the gutter.)

"Will you be able to hear what we say?" Minho tries to look innocent as he asks the question, but you can already feel the heat rising to your cheeks.

"Only if you speak loudly, we decided it would be more fun if STAY can't hear what you whisper to each other." One of the staff quickly explains.

Minho's grin turns sinister and a single thought crosses your mind.

I am so fucked.

Minho stalks toward you once the camera starts rolling and comes around behind you to wrap his arms around you like always. You can handle this, this is normal for you two. Your heart rate stays the same.

You feel him lean in until his lips are almost touching your ear.

"Hey there, little moon bear. This skirt you wore today is very pretty, did you wear it for STAY or for me?" He whispers so only you can hear. He is so close to you that you feel his breath tickling your ear.

The ears wiggle a little bit then settle. You can do this Y/N, Pull it together.

Minho notices and chuckles, pulling you tighter against him.

"I'm sure your pretty skirt would look even better with someone's hands underneath it."

You let out a gasp and the guys go wild. You know STAY's are going to have a field day with this footage. You are now squirming in Minho's tight grip, trying to escape his now searing hands, a burning flush spreading across your face.

Minho almost sounds surprised when he breathes out "Shit."

You think about his words and his arms wrapped around you all night.

~✨~

MinBear has become your official ship name from STAY's, after Minho's stunt during the last SKZCode STAY have been posting online about the possibility of you two dating.

You, Minho, and Jisung just laugh about it whenever it gets brought up and everything seems to go back to normal between you and Minho.

If you dream about him whispering those words in your ear at night, well that's just nobody's business.

~✨~

During the next SKZCode the staff decides to play into STAY's delusions and make you and Minho play husband and wife. The catch? Minho is the wife.

~✨~

"HAHAHA HYUNG, NOONA, WHAT ARE YOU WEARING?!" Innie's voice carries across the room when you and Minho walk into the room. Minho is in the brown wig from SKZ Family, a gaudy pink dress with far too many ruffles, and ballet flats with little pink bows on them while you are wearing a wig with a receding hairline (bye bye idol image), a flannel shirt, and blue jeans. The boys all burst out laughing when you two strike a pose and show off your "wedding rings" (they are blue raspberry ring pops).

"Hello everyone! I am Joe and this is my second wife Mindy!" You smile at the group and they all start howling with laughter one again.

You both decided to play into the roles WAY too much to hopefully show STAY that you two really are just best friends. You don't need the dating rumors to turn into a full blown scandal.

"Oh baby, dear, my loveliest little sunflower, who do you think is the killer?" You turn to Minho and try to hold back your laughter at seeing him wrestle with the ruffles that keep coming up from the collar and tickling his nose.

"Oh my handsome, manly, bravest lionheart, I think it was that barista for sure!" He looks up and bats his eyelashes at you for dramatic effect.

And for some reason, instead of spewing back some heinously cheesy line, you are struck with a totally unwelcome thought.

Minho is so Pretty.

What the fuck?

~✨~

The rest of the shoot goes by fairly quickly. It devolves into chaos, as things normally do with the nine of you. But the rest of the time you are a little more fidgety than usual. The unwelcome thought about your best friend Minho burrowing into your brain until it fully settles and the shoot is over and you are left with the realization that your best friend is pretty.

You'd rather not unpack that.

~✨~

A few weeks pass by and you successfully manage to bury your realization about Minho deep in your subconscious to the point where you haven't thought about it in two whole days! (That's impressive! Really! You initially thought about it at least five times a day… okay like five times an hour)

Finally the group had a whole weekend off! No SKZCode, no crazy schedules, just you, your two best friends, a mountain of takeout and snacks, and a movie marathon.

"Pass the popcorn Ji!" You made grabby hands at Jisung and he just laughed and passed over the bowl.

"Oi! Ya big babies scooch and make some room I wanna be in the middle." Minho yelled out, passing you both a soju bottle.

"Oooohh hyung you know me so well! I love the Strawberry soju!" Jisung grabbed his bottle, smiling up at Minho.

"And you got me yogurt flavored? You must really love us Min!" You smiled up at Minho.

Minho looked down at Jisung then over to you where his eyes lingered a beat too long. You held eye contact until it was a bit too much for you and you looked away. You heard Minho let out a small chuckle as he sat between you and Jisung.

"A toast! To my two best friends, Soulmates, and other cheesy shit!" Minho laughed while raising his own soju.

"To other cheesy shit!" You and Ji said in unison, toasting and gulping down some soju.

You three continued drinking and laughing and having a blast while the movies played in the background. At some point Minho had put his arms around you and Ji and the two of you were snuggling into him watching the movie. You were pulled out of your focus when you started to hear soft snoring coming from Minho's lap where Jisung's head was resting. You smiled and reached over to softly comb your fingers through his hair. You felt Minho softly chuckle under you and you lifted your head to meet his eyes where he was smiling down fondly at you and Ji.

"You two are so adorable, " he said softly, trying not to wake Jisung. You smiled, and your hazy mind decided that was the moment to open the box you had sealed shut weeks ago.

"You're so pretty Min." You all but whispered the words, but Minho heard you loud and clear. His breath lightly hitched and he raised his hand to stroke your cheek.

"You are so beautiful my little moon bear."

~✨~

Weeks passed and the movie night incident was never spoken of. The shared moment between you and Minho had been something so soft and intimate you were afraid of what you would say if he ever brought it up. But thankfully he never did. So you just went on with your life. Your schedule was about to get busy again anyway so there was plenty to keep it out of your mind… right?

~✨~

You can't get it out of your head. No matter what you do it is all you can think about and it is stressing you out. So you do what you do every time you get stressed.

You bake.

After gathering all the ingredients you snap a picture and send it off to Felix.

Y/nnie🤩🧁: [Photo Attached]

Lixxie🍰🍫: I'm on my way.

Felix knew you really only baked when you were stressed out since you never really had the time but the act made you calm down a bit so when he got the picture of all the baking supplies he must have known that you needed a friend because not even twenty minutes later there you were in your kitchen baking enough brownies to feed a small town.

"Soooo, you gonna tell me what brought this stress baking spree on?" He asked softly like he was coaxing a cat out from under the bed. You almost wanted to laugh.

"What gave me away?" You laughed.

"Well when you are baking just to bake you usually only make enough for the nine of us, this is enough to feed the whole company Y/nnie, so tell me what's going on?" You let out a breath you didn't realize you'd been holding and put down your baking tools.

"Lix I don't even know what's going on to be honest. Things with one of my good friends have recently gotten a little…tense? Weird? I don't know. And I don't know if it's just me or if they are feeling it too you know?" Felix is looking at you like he knows exactly what you're talking about and you briefly panic wondering if he can read minds. Then he lets out a sigh and pulls you in for a hug. You melt into his familiar embrace and allow him to hold you while he slowly speaks.

"Things being weird between friends is never fun. In my experience the best way to fix things is through open communication. Just tell this person what you feel and see if they feel the same then go from there." He says while slowly stroking your hair.

"That's the issue Lix, I don't know what I am feeling."

"Ah, well that seems like a good place to start then yeah?"

~✨~

You haven't had time to think about what you and Lix had talked about. Between recording and practicing choreography you barely had time to eat let alone think. So you focused on work. For now.

The next scheduled SKZCode was going to be a haunted house.

Now here's the thing. Haunted houses are objectively not scary. HOWEVER, if someone with you jumps, you tend to jump as well. If someone screams, so do you. So if you are paired with a scaredy cat, you will get scared. And the staff love to make you seem extra cutesy since you are the only girl so of course you get paired with Minho and Jisung.

Jisung is going to get scared. You know in your heart that he is going to scream and he might even cry. Minho on the other hand is going to try and scare you and Ji, and it is going to work. You know this because the three of you have gone to haunted houses together before and that is exactly what happened.

So you resigned yourself to your fate.

~✨~

"Noona, hyung, I am so scared, what if a real monster snuck on set and is hiding with the staff members and it sees us and eats us?" Ji whimpered as he clung onto one of Minho's arms.

"Sungie that's silly, a monster wouldn't eat us here on camera, it would follow us home and eat us there so there was no proof!" Minho snickers as you whack his side.

"Don't scare our poor Ji any more than he already is Min! His poor little heart can't take it!" you hiss at him under your breath. Your slightly shaky voice gives away the fact that you too were getting scared.

"Oh relax y/nnie, Sungie and you are gonna be just fine with me here to protect you." Minho said softly while squeezing you a little more into his side.

Well that was new. He'd usually make fun of you for getting scared and try to rile you up even more. But his tone… it was the same one he had used during the movie night.

That was definitely something you didn't want to think about right now while you were on camera.

You continued through the haunted house, nothing really getting to you, until you opened one room and walked into complete darkness.

Your breath hitched and you clung to Minho a bit tighter. He responded by rubbing soothing circles onto your arm and pulling you a bit closer into his side.

The lights came on and a staff in a costume jumped out and scared you. You and Jisung started screaming and Minho flung himself in front of you. Your eyes widened at the gesture and you looked over to Jisung only to see him looking between you and Minho with a questioning look on his face. This was definitely going to cause a dating scandal if you didn't do something quick, so without skipping a beat you grabbed Jisung and dramatically clung to him. He seemed to get the message and reciprocated. The both of you clinging onto one another while yelling. The whole scene was honestly quite hilarious and adorable.

Minho seemed to come out of it and turned around to see his two best friends clinging onto one another dramatically and cracked a smile before full blown laughing at you two. You and Jisung slowly looked at one another and slowly detangled your limbs, then burst out laughing.

With the tension dissipated you all went through the rest of the haunted house without any further incidents.

Yet Minho's tone rang in your ears, reminding you of what he said last time

"You are so beautiful my little moon bear."

~✨~

The next SKZCode was coming up and the group had been gushing about it the whole time. A camping trip! You would get to play games with the guys, eat delicious food, and even go fishing! The catch? You would all be sleeping on the floor in the same room. Normally this would be no problem. You would cuddle up with Jisung and Minho and all would be good. Now though?

You decided to finally listen to Felix and figure out what you were feeling by laying out some facts.

Fact one: You think Minho is pretty, like unfairly pretty, but then again so does everyone else. So that could mean anything really.

Fact two: Minho acted really weird when you went to the movies with Seungmin, something you do very frequently. You have no clue what that was.

Fact three: When Minho whispered something dirty in your ear it caused something to flutter in you. He was just joking and trying to get your heart racing for the game so surely it meant nothing right?

Fact four: You called Minho pretty and he called you beautiful. You had said things like that before but never whispered and inches from each other's faces… That one… you don't know what to do with.

Fact five: You are clueless as to what all this means.

Cool. Well that was a waste of time.

~✨~

You and the boys piled out of the cars and started to get everything ready for the night. You split off into groups, people needed to go shopping, people needed to cook, people decided to do each other's hair? Not really sure what that has to do with camping but you, Minho, and Jisung gave each other silly little hairdos and everything was great. The day absolutely flew by and you were doing so great not thinking about the way Minho makes you feel.

Finally you were all seated around the campfire. Jisung got saddled with cooking everyone breakfast in the morning and even though he is your best friend you do not want to wake up early so you start to devise a plan to get out of it.

Chan peels Jisung a sweet potato to appeal to him. Damn that's hard to top. You are scrambling to come up with something to top that and miss what is being said until you hear Minho's voice.

"I won't be fake either. I love you."

Everyone burst out laughing at Minho's proclamation to Jisung but you feel… weird. You are looking between Jisung and Minho and there's this pit in your stomach, almost like…

No

No fucking way.

No way are you jealous right now.

Jisung and Minho are best friends just like you and Minho and you and Ji are… and yet…

Shit.

Everything starts to make sense, the bickering, the playful flirting, the butterflies in your stomach.

You have a huge fucking crush on Lee Minho.

As you come to this realization, you lock eyes with him from across the campfire. His smirk softens, and he gently smiles at you.

Oh fuck, what are you going to do?

~✨~

You all lay down for the night and as usual you are sandwiched between your two boys, not so usual, you are clinging to Ji like your life depends on it and are slowly scooting further from Minho's touch.

He giggles probably thinking you are messing with him and grabs your waist to pull you flush to him.

"Where do you think you're going, little moon bear?" He whispers into your ear.

You almost whimper. Almost. You manage to pull your shit together because you are all still on camera and make a show of grabbing for Jisung in front of you.

"I'm cold! I need Ji's heat or else I'll die in the night!" You say dramatically, trying to play it off. Minho must buy it because he remains silent behind you and the three of you get cozy before eventually falling asleep.

~✨~

You wake up in the morning With Minho's entire body wrapped around you. Jisung is trying to get up so he can go to the store with Chan.

"Noona, I've got to go so I can make you breakfast, promise I'll be back soon." Jisung laughs as you pout at him leaving you and you sigh and grumble. You are still a bit cold so you shimmy around so you are now facing Minho.

He is still asleep, so you allow yourself to look at him. You take in his cute little bunny teeth, the little mole on his nose, and his eyelashes fluttering. Oh, his eyes are open, and he caught you staring.

Well that's fucking embarrassing.

He just smiles and pulls you in a little tighter, looking back at you. His eyes pass from your eyes, to your nose, and down to your lips where he lingers for a moment too long. Then he looks back into your eyes.

"Good morning moon bear." He softly whispers. You feel his breath fan against your face and you try not to let your eyelashes flutter at the action.

"Good morning Min." You whisper back. His eyelashes do flutter and you have to hold yourself back from jumping to any conclusions. For a few moments you just gaze into each other's eyes in silence. Finally he reaches a hand up and brushes your cheek.

"Beautiful." It's the smallest whisper but you are barely an inch from his face so you catch it. Minho adjusts his hand so he is now cupping your cheek and your heart starts to hammer in your chest.

Is he about to kiss you?

"Min." It's a breathless whisper, you're so close to him now you're sure he felt it more than heard it.

"WHO WANTS RAMYEON?!" Jisung's voice wakes everyone up and the moment passes. Minho's eyes close and he seems to be frustrated.

You are dying inside.

Was he about to kiss you?

~✨~

The day passes too quickly. You all eat and play games and everything is totally normal on the surface. You have to be normal because you are being filmed. Minho doesn't act any differently, he certainly doesn't bring up the almost-maybe kiss. You decide that if he wants to talk about it then he will talk to you. So you do what you do best.

You perform for the camera and ignore your stupid feelings.

~✨~

You're full on spiraling at this point. Every time you close your eyes you see Minho gazing into your eyes, about to pull you in.

You shake your head. No, this isn't real. Your silly little crush is making you delusional. Minho wasn't going to kiss you, he just called you beautiful and held your face because… because… well you can't think of another explanation, but there must be one because it has been days and Minho hasn't brought it up and if he wanted to kiss you then surely he would have brought it up… right?

Fuck this.

The next SKZCode is coming up and you can just focus on that and not Minho's sparkling eyes, his plush lips, his little nose mole… Fuck. You are officially down bad.

Well you know what that means.

It's time to do something stupid.

~✨~

"Innie! I need your help!" You shout as you walk into the boys dorm. The brunette pops his head out of his door and looks you up and down.

"Yeah I'd say you definitely do." He says distastefully.

"Damn child who raised you?"

"Definitely not you Noona or I'd be dressing like a Target commercial."

You both burst out laughing at that.

"Fair point, but seriously, I need your opinion on what to wear for the next SKZCode."

"Oooh a fashion emergency? Of course you would come to me! Well come right in Noona, we will fix that god awful outfit you've got on in no time!"

He grabbed your hand and dragged you into the room.

"So are we going for Kawaii like usual or did you want to look like one of the guys? I know this is acrobatics so we are looking more toward athleisure type outfits." I.N. says all of this while digging through his closet looking for the stash of your clothes he hid in there.

"Well I was actually thinking I wanted to look… sexy?…" I.N. froze in his closet when you spoke. "I mean obviously not like crazy sexy or anything I just want to look really good you know? Not like a cute little girl and not boyish either. Does that make sense?" I.N. stood up and slowly turned to look at you with a Cheshire grin on his face.

"Noona. I have been waiting my whole life to hear you say those words."

~✨~

You look hot. Holy fuck you have never looked this good in front of the guys. Even at premieres and shows you've always been kawaii or dudebro to match the guys but this? The crop top Innie puts you in fits you in all the best ways, it's low cut enough to be provocative but not enough to be slutty. The back is cut out and it is the perfect shade for your skin tone. But the pants. My god your ass has never looked more smackable. It's like I.N. knew exactly who your target audience was. Your hair is done up in a cute ponytail with the little strands hanging out the front.

You look like sex on legs.

"Jesus Innie you're a god at this."

"I know, I take payment in food and coffee."

"Innie I'd buy you a five course meal for this shit god damn."

You both started laughing and he reached behind him to grab something.

"The final touch."

~✨~

You walked into the studio and it suddenly got very quiet. All the boys were looking at you with varying expressions.

"So? What do you all think? Didn't I do an amazing job?" I.N. grinned at the rest of the guys who were ranging from outright ogling you to shyly avoiding your gaze.

"Yeah Innie you did great." Chan was the first to speak and after that the compliments kept flowing from everyone except the one person you wanted.

Oh well. Onto phase two.

~✨~

You made sure to get a spot right in front of Minho so he could see the full extent of Innie's 'final touch'. A bow in your hair long enough to basically make a runway to the swell of your ass.

The episode went by pretty fast, you were actually having a lot of fun doing all the poses. You noticed when you did the mermaid pose Minho made a noise, a grunt? Maybe a gasp? Whatever it was you were certain your plan was working. Now all you had to do was actually talk to him about what you felt like Felix had recommended.

Once the episode was over you headed over to Minho.

"Hey, Min, you got a sec?" You put your hands behind your back to maximize the silhouette's effect.

"Actually no, sorry, I've got to get home, lots of stuff to get done. I'll text you later okay?" Minho was avoiding your eyes and shuffling from one foot to the other.

"Oh, okay… I guess I'll talk to you later?" You leaned your head down to catch his eye and when he finally locked eyes with you his gaze was searing and sent a chill down your spine.

"Yeah."

~✨~

Well that was fucking weird and definitely not the reaction you had been hoping for. Mr. Self proclaimed butt hunter didn't even attempt to slap your ass in these phenomenal leggings you wore just for him. You groaned into your pillow and allowed yourself to feel frustrated. Any time you had big feelings like this there was always one thing that helped.

You shot Hyunjin a text and after receiving a confirmation you headed to the art studio.

~✨~

Lo-fi music playing on the speaker, a nice hot cup of coffee sitting next to you, and a medium blank canvas sat in front of you, what more could you want? You let the atmosphere wash over you as you tried to use your frustration to create a work of art.

You have no idea how much time has passed, you never do when you're painting with Hyunjin. You could occasionally hear his soft humming and brush-strokes glide across his canvas.

Time with Hyunjin always seemed to calm you down. Maybe it was the chill playlist he favored for the occasion, maybe it was the smell of coffee in the air, or maybe it was the way he simply existed with you in the moment, not requiring you to engage.

You added the final touches on the canvas and nodded to yourself.

"Hyune?" Hyunjin hummed in response.

"What do you think of this one?" You gestured to the finished piece in front of you. Hyunjin stood up and stretched before coming over to admire your work.

"It feels… lonely. Like you are reaching for something in the distance but it's too far away for you to grasp." You simply hummed in response and Hyunjin laid his head on your shoulder.

"I like it Y/N, it's…" He went silent for a moment before sighing and wrapping his arms around you.

"It's beautiful."

~✨~

Weeks had passed since the failed seduction attempt on your part and Minho had been annoyingly 'busy' so you hadn't really seen him outside of your work schedule. The distance was getting to you and you started to wonder if you had done something wrong. Minho had never gone this long without reaching out to hang out or simply showing up at your apartment in years. You couldn't shake the feeling that he was avoiding you and it hurt. A lot. That hurt turned to borderline anger when you saw on Ji's story that he and Minho were having a movie night.

Without you.

You checked the group chat to see if you had missed an invite but there hadn't been a message in over a week since Ji had sent you both a cat meme. Maybe Minho noticed your attempt at flirting and decided that ghosting you was better than outright rejection? Even if that was the case the two of you were both close with Ji and not to mention your co-workers, so how could he just cut you out like that? Jisung hadn't even mentioned the movie night and that hurt you too.

Were you losing both your best friends because you had some stupid feelings?

You felt yourself starting to spiral but before you hit the point of no return you took some calming breaths and closed your eyes. You could not break, not now, you had a busy schedule coming up so you focused on that instead.

Thankfully, it was time to film the next SKZCode so at least you got to do something fun. You prepared yourself to get into the Christmas spirit.

~✨~

The staff welcomed you all in and explained the premise of the episode. You were all going to play games and try and win someone over to end up partnered by the end. You immediately thought of MinBear and how much STAY would love to see the two of you end up together before remembering that you and Minho were currently fighting.

Okay maybe not fighting but it's not like you are exactly on speaking terms. The only communication you'd had in weeks was him correcting you in dance practice.

You couldn't go to Ji either, You were mad at him too. Okay mad is maybe an overstatement but you were definitely not happy.

That left the obvious choice.

You decided to set your sights on Felix. You figured the kawaii image you were presenting mixed with his sunshine would be adorable for STAY. To your credit it works pretty well… for about five minutes. You're not sure what exactly happened but one minute you were fake-flirting with Lix, trying to match up with him, the next he is shyly moving away from you and talking to Hyunjin.

You're confused to say the least, that is until you feel soft breaths on your neck.

"Awh are you eating all alone little moon bear? Don't worry, I'll sit with you." You fight the shudders that threaten to run down your spine hearing Minho's voice so close to you after him being so distant for so long.

"Oh, so you're talking to me now huh Min?" You mean to sound angry but it barely masks the hurt in your softly spoken words. You look down at your lap to hide the tears welling up in your eyes.

Minho goes quiet for a moment then gently pulls your face up, angled away from the camera so STAY couldn't see your tear-laden eyes. A small gasp comes from his mouth.

"Jagi…" He softly whispers before hugging you tight to his chest. "Y/N, sweetheart, why are you crying?" He whispers in your hair to shield his lips from the camera.

"It's nothing Min, I'm okay. Let's just keep eating or STAY will worry about us."

"I don't care if STAY worries, my favorite girl is crying and I'm going to comfort her." You pull away a bit at his words to look into his eyes.

"I'm still your favorite girl?" You whisper the question and you hear Minho's small sound of disbelief at your question.

"Of course jagiya, you've always been my favorite girl. Let's talk more after the skit yeah?"

"Okay."

~✨~

Minho makes sure to stick by your side the rest of the shoot. The two of you end up a pair at the end and as you walk out of the room, prepared to head to the recording studio you are surprised when Minho leads you out the door instead.

"Min, where are we going? Channie oppa told us to go to the recording booth after the shoot."

"I texted him and told him that you needed the afternoon off because you weren't feeling well and that I was going to come take care of you. He said it was okay, so I'm taking you home."

"Oh, okay then."

You both remain silent as you approach the company car and Minho opens the door for you and you both slide in. The ride is unusually quiet for the two of you and you are worried that Minho might be mad at you for something and the longer the silence continues, the higher your anxiety spikes.

By the time you reach your apartment you have over-analyzed every interaction the two of you have had over the past few weeks and you have convinced yourself that Minho actually just hates you and is taking you home to break the news in private so none of the cameras catch you crying again.

You are panicking. You can't lose him because of some stupid attraction you may feel. He is one of your best friends and losing him would be devastating.

Once you reach the door of your apartment you are so close to having a panic attack that your hands start shaking as you try to insert your key into the lock. Minho stands and waits while you shakily unlock and open the door. Once you are inside you are frozen in place waiting for the worst.

Then Minho gathers you in his arms and holds you tight.

"It's okay jagi, you're safe here." He whispers as he starts rubbing soothing circles on your back. You don't even realize you are crying again until he lifts your head by your chin and wipes your tears away. You smile softly and Minho returns it.

You are okay. He is not mad at you. Everything is alright.

"Come on sweetheart, let's go cuddle on the couch and watch a shitty rom-com."

You silently nod and he leads you both to the couch. You sit, his arms still wrapped around you as he guides you to rest your head on his chest. You both stay like that as he starts up one of your favorite movies.

You both watch the movie, Minho rubbing soothing circles on your skin while you nuzzle into his warmth. It is quiet for some time until Minho lets out a deep sigh.

"I'm sorry I made you worry Y/N, I really was busy and some things came up and I just needed a guys night with Ji, I hope you understand I am not mad at you and you are still my favorite girl." Minho's words made you smile and you sunk further into his embrace.

"It's okay Min, I guess I just felt left out and it messed with me for a minute but I get it. We are good." You looked up into his eyes and in a whisper added:

"Promise."

~✨~

There was an electric feeling in the air. You and the boys were beyond excited for your second world tour. This time you were going to go back to Chan and Felix's home country. The two aussies had spent entirely too much time teaching you and the boys all the important aussie slang you would need and helping you all with your English.

The Maniac tour was set to be your biggest endeavor as a group yet. Minho was drilling the choreo into everyone relentlessly and often spent his free time one-on-one helping each member who asked. Ji was always in the studio with his fellow 3Racha members to ensure everything was perfect. And you? You were spending every free moment you could with Felix trying to perfect your English so you could communicate with the international STAYs.

It was overwhelming but you all pushed yourselves to the limit because you wanted to be amazing for STAY.

Finally the day came and it was time for your first concert.

The lights were blinding and the stadium was so loud you could barely hear yourself think.

It was exhilarating.

The concert went by so fast and you had such a great time with your fellow members.

You were still in Seoul but it all felt new, you couldn't believe you and your boys had made it this far.

The next two shows flew by and your time in Japan was short. You and the boys tried your best to keep filming your logs for the STAYs who couldn't make it to the shows. Everything was amazing.

Finally it was time to head overseas to America. U.S. STAYs were much louder than your STAYs back home. The atmosphere was incredible and you all had the time of your lives performing in the U.S. again. You and the boys tried to speak as much English as you could but it is a hard language for you all so you relied heavily on the aussies for translation help.

In between shows you, Ji, and Min would hole up in one of your hotel rooms and gush about how much fun this all was and how excited you all were to finally go to Australia. You would watch bits of movies before ultimately passing out in a cuddle pile on someone's bed, only to wake up and repeat the next day.

The days flew by and before you knew it it was time to hop on a plane headed to Chan and Felix's home. You all made sure you had time planned to meet their families and have a good time while in the land down under.

When you arrived at the hotel to check in, the staff found out that there was a mistake and only seven rooms had been booked. Someone must have thought Chan and Felix were staying with their families but they simply lived too far from the concert venues. After a very long flight and eager to sleep off your jet lag, everyone was too tired to argue about who would be sharing rooms until Minho spoke up.

"Y/N, Ji, and I have kinda been sharing this whole tour anyway, we may as well just share a room from the get-go if that is okay with everyone else?"

The staff looked bewildered at Minho's suggestion. A girl sharing a room with two boys? That's quite unusual. But the other members were used to you three having slumber parties all the time back home and just shrugged it off insisting that if you were fine with it so were they.

So, you three headed up to your shared room.

~✨~

"Ugh, I could sleep for like a week at this point." Jisung groaned out before promptly falling face-first onto the nearest bed to him.

"Yah! Hannie, you know I like sleeping further from the door, give Y/N that bed and you and I can share the other." Minho glared at the younger boy already getting comfortable in the bed.

"Hyuuuunnnggg I'm already in this one though." Jisung whined out and sank further under the covers.

"Min it's okay, Ji can have that bed and you and I can just share the other. I prefer being close to the window anyway." You said sleepily before heading over to the far bed and setting up your stuff on the nightstand.

"Are you sure Y/nnie? I can kick the lazy quokka out if you'd prefer a bed to yourself."

"I'm sure Min, we all have been sleeping on one bed almost every night of the tour anyway, I'm kind of used to having someone next to me anyway." You shrugged and gathered your sleep clothes.

"I'm gonna go shower real quick, airplanes always make me feel greasy, either of you need to use the bathroom before I go?" You asked the two. Jisung had already passed out and you and Minho just laughed at the sleepy boy before Minho looked up at you.

"No, you're all good. I'll shower after you too so our bed doesn't get gross like Sungie's." You both started laughing and you went to the bathroom and hopped in the shower.

While in the shower you let your thoughts roam. You had been so busy with the tour and Jisung had been stuck with you and Minho the whole time as well so you hadn't had time to think about your maybe-feelings for Minho. Now you were confronted with the fact that while you all were here there would be no escaping to your own room if things got too weird for you.

Not just that but you were sharing a bed with him.

You and Minho had slept in the same bed many times but you were almost always accompanied by Jisung as well. Now it would just be the two of you…

It won't be weird if you don't make it weird.

Right?

~✨~

You finally got out of the shower and changed into your pajamas. After doing your skincare you came out of the bathroom and stopped in place when you looked up and saw a shirtless Minho standing in the middle of the room. His back was facing you and you took a second to admire his strong shoulder muscles down to the dip in his back, just above the hem of his shorts. You could've stood there staring forever but when Minho started to pull down his shorts you made a small noise, something between a whimper and a groan. Minho stiffened and dramatically turned toward you with a hand over his pecs.

"Y/N! Sorry! I didn't hear you come out. I was going to change into my robe before going in after you. Sorry about that. I'll just… bring it with me." The tips of his ears were a fiery red and you're sure you were no better. You could feel yourself flushing and you quickly looked down and nodded as he passed by you and quickly went into the bathroom to shower.

Well that didn't help your situation.

You crawled into bed and tried to calm yourself down but every time you closed your eyes you just saw a shirtless Minho again. You lightly groaned and turned your body away from the bathroom and tried to will yourself to fall asleep before Minho came back so you didn't have to face him.

Of course that didn't work. You had been so tired when you got here but now you were like a live wire and you knew that sleep would not come easily.

When Minho returned from his shower he said nothing as he slowly climbed into the bed next to you. It was quiet for a moment before he broke the silence.

"Sooo… do you want to cuddle?" He said it slowly and quietly and you internally screamed. There is no way you would fall asleep if Minho was touching you… and yet.

"Yeah, that sounds nice." You quietly answered.

Minho scooted closer to you and wrapped an arm around your waist, holding you tightly.

"Is this good?" He whispered. You could feel how close he was when he spoke, his breath tickling your ear.

"Yeah, it's perfect."

You were so fucked.

~✨~

Just as you thought, it took you forever to fall asleep. However, when you woke up you felt completely relaxed, you had somehow gotten the best night's sleep you had had in a very long time. You slowly came to consciousness and the first thing you noticed was a hair on your face tickling your nose. You realized there was some sort of breeze on your face, cracking an eye open and you bit back a squeak at the sight before you.

You had shifted in the night and were now, yet again, face-to-face with a sleeping Minho. His arms were wrapped tightly around you and your legs were tangled. He was beautiful like this. Soft breaths coming out from him as he peacefully slept. You stared at him in wonder and decided that a few more moments of this wouldn't hurt.

After some time passed Minho eventually began to stir. He groaned and hugged you a bit tighter before opening his eyes. You were both quiet, allowing the peaceful moment in an otherwise chaotic few months. You softly smiled and he returned it.

"G'morning jagi." He whispered, trying not to break the peaceful atmosphere the two of you were caught in.

"Good morning sleepyhead." You softly chuckled and he giggled in return, nuzzling slightly closer to you.

"I could get used to this, you know?" He whispered, now inches from your face. You breath hitched at his comment and before you could respond there was a loud banging on your door.

"YAH WAKE UP LAZY BUMS IT'S TIME TO GET READY!" Chan's voice rang out and Minho groaned, closing his eyes and tilting his head back. You heard Jisung yelp from the other bed at Chan's command.

"Time to go." Minho groaned.

~✨~

The next few days were a blur. The Aussie STAYs were crazy. The concerts were so much fun but you were all so exhausted that by the time you got back to the hotel it took all of your energy to shower before crawling back into bed.

You and Minho slept in each other's arms every night.

Once the concerts were over you were all invited to the Bang residence for dinner. All nine of you laughed and ate and bonded with Chan's family. It was amazing and you never wanted it to end, but eventually it was time to go. You and Hannah exchanged numbers, her saying you needed a girl friend being surrounded by the eight loud boys all the time. You laughed and agreed, saving her number immediately.

You would cherish the time you got to spend in Australia forever.

~✨~

The rest of the tour flew by, the nine of you really giving it your all and after months it was finally time to come back home. You were so excited to sleep in your own bed again and get back into your normal crazy schedule.

The first few nights back home were odd. You couldn't fall asleep no matter how tired you were. You assumed it was just the jet lag but after days of bad sleep you were ready to snap.

It was a normal day filled with dance practice and small photoshoots but you were so exhausted you felt like you were going to fall over at any minute. You noticed Minho looked dead tired as well. You wondered if he was having trouble adjusting as well.

After your schedule was done for the day you decided to take a nice walk to try and calm your mind. After walking up and down the Han rivers shore a few times you decided it was time to head home.

You entered your apartment to the sound of the TV on and smiled.

"To what do I owe this pleasure?" you jokingly asked the boy on your couch.

"I've been sleeping like shit and decided to see if it's my bed or just me so I came to stay here if that's cool with you?" Minho didn't look away from the TV as he spoke.

"You're always welcome here Min you know that. Wanna order takeout?" You plopped next to him on the couch and leaned on his shoulder.

"Already got your favorite from that one place with the noodles you like." He wrapped an arm around you and turned on yet another shitty rom-com for you two to watch. You let out a hum of approval and sank into his embrace before answering.

"Thanks Min, you're the best."

"Anything for my favorite girl."

You and Minho sat in content silence until the food came. You both ate as much as you could handle before settling back to finish your movie. Once it was over you stretched and yawned, feeling more exhausted than you had in a long time. Minho smiled at you and reached out for your hand.

"You look exhausted, let's head to bed."

You sleepily nodded and took his hand. He led you to your room where you both climbed into bed and he gathered you into his arms just like he had back in Sydney. You both let out a content sigh at the contact and before you knew it you were out.

You slept like the dead. You didn't realize how much you missed Minho's presence until you had it once again. After that there was an unspoken agreement between the two of you to share a bed until further notice. You loved the contact but the longer it continued the more your feelings grew.

You think you might be falling in love with your best friend and for the first time you think you might be okay with that.

[tomatoart]

mwah your art is good and nice :>

can I ask for some advice? no worries if u don't want to answer.

do you have any tips on how exactly to practice art? everytime I ask for art advice everyone always says "practice" but idk what to practice first! do you have any strategies for learning how to draw something? do you do excercises? and if so how do they work?and are there any beginner mistakes I should look out for and change specifically?

thank you so much!! have a wonderful week :>

thank you so much! im ok w answering! i dont want to speak as if i am an expert on how to draw things in general as i am learning as well and definitely am not completely learned, so i might not be the best person to ask since im not very professional w my art as I do it as a hobby (and I can only speak on mostly digital cartoon matters) but i reallly hope to try and help u out even a lil ! im really happy that you’re eager to draw :] I wish you so much luck muwah muwah

i also hated when ppl told me “just practice” and i dont wanna inflict tht on u EITHER LOL but also thats just what i ended up doing for awhile but i tried to find some things to help ^_^

tips for practice: My number one rule is that practices should be challenging but still fun, I know it can get frustrating trying to redraw a pose over and over trying to get it perfect. And over time it rlly is all about muscle memory, the longer you draw the more your eyes will pick out specific shapes in everyday life and convert them into its own vision of them! or at least its good to look at life that way, try to pin point key shapes and stress less on details in practices. after you look at key points, THEN you can go over what you have and draw in and over it to make it more “complete.” To stop practices from getting too stressful I recommend starting out drawing what you want a little more simple looking than ur desired finished product. This helps eliminate the pressure of everything not looking “perfect” and keeps your art more loose and fun. Doing this a few times is gonna get ur brain to recognize patterns in art and how things look/flow in anatomy and such. dont get stuck in ur own head abt perfecting everything to the point you either 1) give up bc ur not at a level capable of it being 100% “perfect” or 2) focus so much on making it perfect that you end up saying the work looks “wonky” or stale in dynamics, So while I do think studies help, don’t get too lost in them. I always practice with media I enjoy too, whether it’s characters or fashion I enjoy.

Strategies learning to draw something: people get mad abt this one but I think tracing reference photos is great. its been awhile but When I tried learning to draw hands better at first I would trace them then put the traced image to the side of the canvas, then try and replicate what my mind saw as its most important angles and aspects. Same for clothing folds/hair/etc! I think it’s maybe not the best idea to trace the ref and use the tracings as is, because you learn more from tracing it then trying to replicate and simplify what u learned into the style you’re working in. Find what shapes you like from them and don’t over detail it. you may have to go by eye and think “what parts of this ref photo should i simplify to fit my style” and for me, its usually adjusting the length of the torso and then the limbs by associations. i dont recommend feeling like u need a reference for every art you make though, its ok to let ur own head try out its own sometimes too while trying to learn this, see if it remembers any call bad from the past referenced sketches! over time ull remember where everything goes more, these days i rarely kick myself to use refs but im sure they still would help to use, but figure drawing simple blobby figure in a bunch of random poses was a big thing i used to do as well to get better at full body art + overall dynamics (still does this). also paying attention to silhouettes is great 

Exercises and how they work: I WANNA HELP U SO BAD BUT to be honest, all the works on my blog ARE exercises! i rarely actually do finished pieces, if u scroll thru my posts ull notice most r sketches. i usually just fill up a page and call it “warm ups” then i get attached to some of them, take a few, and just line them up pleasingly on a smaller page, then color them in (or sometimes fix the lines to be more clean too). im not rlly a person who “exercises” to practice, it more so happens from just me drawing a lot for fun as a hobby! but i really should. i will tell u this has humbled me a lil i need to start practicing too 😭 LOL but a good exercise is to look at what ur inspirations do, and study it. Make a collage and write out what you like most abt their styles/what u want to gain from them. For ref Here’s a page I did awhile ago when someone asked me abt my insps:

i also look at fashion magazines and as well as anime figures and take insps from that sometimes with learning cool poses and compositions to convert into my own things

Beginner mistakes to look out for: its hard for me to pin point “mistakes” beginners make, as sometimes we cant avoid all of them or even notice them, progress comes from growing out of old ways. some mistakes are even the foundation of ur future amazing cool style! but i think some things to look out for could be these, from my own old art experiences

Hands were the first thing I learned bc i liked drawing them. I don’t know if that is the best way to go but I think it is smart to practice sooner than later, here is a lil guide thingggyyy wingyyy from awhle ago

i see beginners shy away from drawing signs of age in people, sometimes adding too much detail on an older person in cartoon art makes it look weird, so i try and hit the key markings on ppls faces of age.

Too thin of lines. sometimes its a stylistic choice to use thin lineart, and it can look amazing ! but sometimes it can flatten an image if ur not familiar with its flow. im not saying use thick line art, but more so to keep in mind the weight of ur strokes, adding depth with a thick thin combo of line art can do SO much for the simplest of pieces. heres a visual from a while back when i talked abt my brush + more abt lines:

but if ur desired style is thin lineart that is cool too! tbh it was just harder for me as a beginner

sometimes artists think they need to do full lineart for everything and then hate how it looks compared to the sketch, do not fear i will introduce u to my bff: painting over a sketch, extractinging the lines, then calling it line art. i only do this sometimes but its a fun exercise-ish thing to do in a pinch. example:

finding what shading fits ur art. sometimes ill see ppl starting out who have a style thats very simple, but they use a very detailed rendering process on it. this is not something id ever police of course, art is each persons own choice! And it CAN work. It can be so cute! but sometimes mixing two very contrasting mediums of art can throw off the “put together” look of it. i use to abuse the airbrush tool thinking it made my simple style look super cool and detailed, but looking back on it now those pieces looked a little off, having such a simple style have somewhat more realistic shading. dont get me wrong the ability i see ppl use rendering like that is so insanely talented! but i found cellshading to be a good match for cartoony art like my own. a tip i learned way too late abt that is rather than shading each layer by color picking a darker color, instead use a clipping mask over the entire art (above line art too as I color my lineart) and lasso tool the areas u want shaded + fill it w a saturated purple then set to multiply + lower opacity. also, sometimes coloring can come out chalky looking when u meant for it to be smooth and transitional, i think this comes from overshading and overlighting pieces without reason. pay attention to where the light source is, and focus on making the shaded and lighter areas nice shapes that cover the necessary areas, then u can add additional shading to the smaller details of what should have a casted shadow/light  

its good to spice up ur art now rather than later, focusing making ur art pop more w backgrounds will help ur coloring skills look better too! i dont mean detailed huge backgrounds, a small lil color pallet and design rather than a blank white bg. like this will make u feel better abt it or at least it helped me *sweats* yeah:

beginners tend to draw blank faces like “:)” but I think a good thing to do is try and get silly with expressions early on. It’s okay if the mouth hangs off the face cartoonishly with joy or shock, it’s ok if the eyebrows are super high in surprise.

tracing and pasting it as is (already said this but I’ve seen ppl do it a lot with hair styles and it makes it look alienated from the rest of the style) (final fantasy fans found critically injured) n if need a ref for a pose, using a real humans anatomy as-is doesn’t look quite right on a cartoonyish drawing. Shortening torso and legs usually comes out of this for me!

flip ur canvas i promise u it’ll be less embarrassing over time!

using guidelines for perspective and foreshortening is GREAT. Do it stylistically rather than realistically to add some groove to it...yay. Having silly perspective in art can make it look like a 10 so easily opposed to a normal front facing sketch. Look at cool poses from fashion magazines! Don’t be scared to draw something you don’t feel confident in conveying perfectly, this is why progress redraws exist :)

Drawing the hairline b4 u draw the hair is great, it helps u understand where their hair flows from, where it starts and stops, AND prepares u for drawing bald ppl. Also don’t make the head too big, the skull IS bigger up top, but sometimes I see an alien head affect.

Anatomy is an interesting mistake that beginners make a lot, but it’s one they find harder to notice! When I started out, all my art would be SO wonky, but I didn’t even realize it! It still happens today too! specifically though I see beginners struggle with the arms in this department. My advice is to try and measure them out and make sure they don’t go past the knees, and are the same length as each other when Unfolded. asking for criticism is hard but it helped me realize when i would make something bigger/longer than it should have been in my art, and stuck with me being able to go “oh... i see it LOL” 

clothing wrinkles- do not over do it! Too many wrinkles and shading can look unpleasant and wirey- like a plastic table cloth all bunched up which isn’t exactly what ppl wear. pay attention to gravity too

I hope this helped even a lil im sorry tht I’m not very good at explaining or didn’t have much to sayyy! If u have any troubles no guarantee I’ll have the answer, but ur always free to ask!

[oddygaul]

brand anti-synergy, 1 Year Anniversary

Wow, I’ve been doing this for a whole year now. Why not take a moment to be retrospective about it?

Keeping this journal has certainly accomplished its primary goal, which was to better remember the media I’ve engaged with and how I felt about it. If I didn’t have this blog and asked myself what I was watching / reading exactly a year ago, my answer would probably be “No idea!”; now, I can just scroll back through the archive and remember exactly what was going on and how it made me feel. Given the ever-increasing speed with which life seems to pass me by as I age, it’s nice to have little strategies like this that anchor moments in time, that help me remember how much time has really passed and all the things I’ve done.

Of course, it doesn’t work out in a conversational sense – I can’t exactly call a timeout and re-read my journal to refresh my memory mid-conversation – but even so, the increased time I now spend reflecting on the art I engage with solidifies my thoughts on a work better in my long-term memory, I think.

Although, suppose I should be doing this for more personal matters, too, and not just art? Hm.

I’ve definitely been more and less successful in keeping up with writing, depending on the month, although I think it’s safe to say my frequency has been trending upward for a while now. Plus, those peaks and valleys, in their own way, help chart the course of my life at those times. Like, yeah, I didn’t write a lot in the months after my dad died; no shit. I absorbed myself in tracking an album instead.

I’ve written some things I’m proud of, surprisingly. When I set out, the idea was that this was purely a journal, with no particular consideration toward readability. From the start, I knew I didn’t want these to be typical reviews, because reviews spend time introducing the subject to the viewer to give context, and I don’t have much interest in spending that time. These are for me, and for any little freaks that are so waist-deep in whatever the topic is that they’re diving through tags deep enough to find it. So, by design, the blog is inherently unapproachable.

Despite that, I still have a few posts that I think are solid, standalone pieces of writing, and a few more that I consider genuinely good analyses of particular works, even if they are likely impenetrable to someone unfamiliar with the work… and I think that’s enough for me. Some of them are certainly banal and worthless, but you know what? That’s fine. Sometimes I finish something and I don’t have anything profound to say, don’t have any interesting takes, don’t have any deep thoughts or self-reflection knocked loose from my brain while I was watching or reading… but I still want to remember if I liked it or not. And I think the willingness to record those insipid reactions anyway is healthy. Who knows – maybe it’s a baby step towards fixing my unhealthy relationship with perfectionism and creativity in general.

The longer it’s been, the more time I spend (read: too much time) taking screenshots and choosing images to put in the posts. On one hand, I genuinely do think this helps with memory – a picture’s worth a thousand words, after all, and seeing a scene or moment that meant something to me instantly recalls the work to mind in a way reading a summary does not. But also? I like pretty pictures, and I’d rather the blog be filled with them than not.

My biggest concern, a year in, is that I’m subconsciously compelled to actually read less, watch less, play less, because I have this shadow hanging over me in the form of unfinished blog posts piling up in a backlog. A similar kind of stress affects a lot of my creative output, generally, so I’m trying to be wary of letting that mindset affect things that are supposed to be for, y’know, unwinding, de-stressing, or experiencing joy. I don’t… think it is, though, too much? I’ve never really been one to binge things anyway, and even when I do, I absolutely do not retain any of it even a month later, so if anything I’m okay with correcting that behavior in lieu of more intentional consumption.

Time will tell.

Anyway, not that many people follow this intentionally, but thanks to anyone that reads my ramblings. The first time I got a classic tumblr reblog, with responses as full run-on sentences in the tags, I felt like I’d really made it in this world.

[eirasummersart]

So I said I would offer you some of my ocs for possible ships and here I am... (haven't found sexualities on the bios so bare with me if I mess up)

For Dillon I wanted to offer Erena or Eve mainly cause Erena could go on fun adventures with him and would know well with is boundaries and Eve... is very smart and still wants to learn lots about humans...

For Dalia... either Kome or Mellow Mellow is also more art focused and gets kinda nervous around cute girls, he would be interested... while Kome has lots of stories to tell and has a love for literature which could be a nice combo.

For Domas... Carol could guide him in a better direction while giving him a good fill of praise, she is also stressed a lot so extra help be fine. Gilly might find him more entertaining than annoying... might also be pointing him in a better direction to help others

Akshaya... most of my "Strong people" might be old but... Zariyah might be a good pick... she wants to be a hero and keep people safe... and she is very patient with people so...

Lastly for Szilárd is really hard but... Dragiselle could be maybe an option.... Flynn maybe too... thoughts behind this is moreso that they are moreso been through hardships and know to deal with similar problems... and Flynn can match some drama... but this ideas are more loose

Hope you liked my little talk maybe something comes out of this.^^

Hello!! Thanks for this ask~ ❤

It's fun to find good interactions between OCs, so let's hope we can get something out of these 👀 And sorry it took me a while to get to it, I've been busy and tired lately, and I wanted to take a proper look to these and make sure I got it all right! It's long, so continues under the cut~

Also, about the sexualities, I don't have that in their info posts, my bad. I have talked about them in the past but I understand that would be hard to find just looking at the basic infos for them! A fast list would be: Dillon: some sort of demi-bi (it's hard for me to grasp his XD), Dalia, Domas, Oriol: bi, Yuuki: Ace, Szi: Gay (can be lesbian if I genderbend, I don't mind doing that, but always has to be the same gender as Szi), and Akshaya not sure 🤔 I'd go with demi-bi too.

Anyway, now for the actual answers!

Dillon: I think both could have good dynamics with him, for sure. But with Eve it might be more of a friendship 🤔 But Erena would definitely get along a lot with him. They have a bunch of similarities (actually, Luffy was one of my inspirations behind Dillon hahah just little things). Also, he's GREAT at swimming, so he could help her out if she ever had problems with that~ Idk, just the picture of them going to adventures together seems quite cute and fun 😌💕

Dalia: For her, I think the two you said could work. With Kome they'd have lots of fun playing chess or other board games (Dalia really likes games that you play with logic and strategy). They could also debate or Kome could tell her about her stories. Also, just in aesthetic, I think their colour palettes would look nice together 💕 And with Mellow, if he's all nervous and shy with girls, he'd have lots of fun teasing him. And she'd find him adorable hahah But they could also bond over art and, aside from her teasing, she'd be really nice and gentle with him, so maybe he'd feel more at ease/less insecure around her afte a while?

Domas: For Domas, I am leaning more towards Carol, to be fair. Gilly is cute and they seem like a fun combo for Domas haha But Carol being much more down to earth seems like a better fit for him, so it doesn't end in full chaos xD Also, Carol's motherly vibe can go along well with his want to help people too, so they'd get along. But she'll need… A LOT of patience xDD Also, the pixelated food part made me laugh, since he's a great cook. Maybe he can help her cook more… nice looking food? xD OH, and the part where she gets flustered and shy easily, Domas is all sweet and gentlemanly, so he might make her blush a lot, which would be cute 🤭 (Also, apparently Domas has a thing for people with glasses, it seems /hj)

Akshaya: Aww, Zariyah seems super cute and nice, I like her. If she goes on about wanting to be strong to help other and/or to be a hero, Akshaya would definitely like her and want to be her friend. If she's all friendly open, she'd make Akshaya blush for sure too, but she'd like it. I guess it turning to ship would depend on how the situation goes from that point 🤔 it could also end in platonic, but I can see some ship potential!

Szilárd: First about this, don't worry, Szi is a complicated guy and it's hard for me to think of relations and frienships for him sometimes too hahah So I get it. Now, for the options you gave me, I'd say I don't see Flynn as much with him 🤔 I'm not sure how I'd approach the relationshi, Szi is just so mean, he'd just scorn him I think hahahaha I'm sorry, Flynn, it's not you, it's Szi being an asshole XDDD But with Dragiselle I can see it more! Well, in this case I'd go with fem!Szi from what I told you earlier. But she's all strong and cool. Maybe they could clash a bit at first (again, Szi's fault for being like he is XD), but I can see Szi seeing the good parts she has, her strong magic, her dedication and all, and wanting to be closer. Also, both have had isolated childhoods (for different reasons), so they can also find a common ground with that~ And since they're both "arts inclined" they might be able to bond over that as well. Idk, she's pretty too(?) that's a plus hahah

Ok, I think that's all I can comment on rn, until I hear your side of this C: Let me know what you think from this too, if any you like more in particular! :D

And of course it was fun to think all of this and try and figure out relationships <3 Thanks for the initial hard work at looking at possible maches too~

I hope you didn't mind my long answer either hahah

[k-apme-h-salzc-a]

How much alone time do I need? Experts recommend getting 20-30 minutes of alone time every day. This doesn't necessarily mean you have to leave the house and go somewhere on your own—you might sit at the table and drink a cup of tea by yourself, or bring a book to bed and read it on your own.

20-30 Minutes, and not like daaaaaays and hours on end, alone in a town that is just making me very sad and is not inspiring at all! :(

I need animals, nature, and good vibration. Why being here then?

To think about my life over and overthink alone in a little corner without no one being kind? Just to spend time with my stressful mother every now and then, so she can put me unwilligly or willingly even more in this survival mode energy? It's the life of an animal in a cage, no wonder I feel sick. Just god please, let me be away from here soon and let me have a good idea and not loose my brain and self completely, let me be relaxed again. Let me be close with people and create life beautifully according to my dreams. I want to have a Band and make music, and paint and draw so I can always make life beautiful and colourful, let me craft a lot with children or with nice people, and spend time with beautiful spritis like animals and discover and learn a lot about nature and art. Let me read in a cabin in the woods and make fire with kindred spirits. I don't deserve to be alone like this. It makes me angry, this is why I am angry.

How easily I would be to calm, if just not being this alone. It makes me anxious out of nowhere, I thought I could handle it, since I always have been introverted and enjoyed my own company, but just as long as there was a balance to everything. Having no occupation that rattles me to get up in the morning, like being there for someone beautiful, and kind. Yes, the world has been growing colder, but that is exactlly why, we need to spend more time together!

Maybe I put too much focus on some details, as the loudness and hecticness of this place just tortures me and as I have no better idea, since I am all alone that I tangle myself up in those details that effect me hugely. I want to play in a Theatre group and dance Flamenco! Oh how I would like to move and go and do all things! It's so unfair to suffer like this for no reason! The reason is to live this life and not to be sad alone in a corner by the street. Naturally all my throught will start to taste like a not succeeded soup.

[evercelle]

Hi! Me again! Thanks so much for replying! I actually do have two things(elements) I'm working on at the moment. Line art and coloring are what I struggle to do the most. My sketches come out so nice until I try to do my line art. And I have issues with lighting, shading and such. Thats all I truly need help on. The positions and anatomy I'm sure I could work on my own. Oh! Thanks again for offering help! It means a lot to me(Also I'm not expecting anything professional from you! I'm just a person who likes to learn different ways a styles that might help me tis all! So don't stress, please! Thanks again!✨💖💖💖🌸💖💖💖✨)

ok that's a lot of different things haha so let's look at lineart✨!! because that's the part i like doing the most... here's a picture i drew as an example! i'll put the "tutorial" part under a cut since it's long...

"my lineart comes out way stiffer than my sketches" is a huge mood O(--( when you're sketching you tend to be a lot looser, and drawing lots of overlapping lines creates visual ambiguity where your eyebrain kind of fills in details automatically. then when you try to draw a single line on top of a mass of vague details, it looks weird...

sketch for the above picture; i think there's a few things you can try to retain the looseness from your sketch page:

1) don't even do lines lmao sometimes i just clean up a sketch with eraser and call it a day

2) i like using a pencil/textured type brush to do lineart now! you won't be able to bucket fill for coloring anymore, but for me it helped deal with the too stiff/too clean feeling.

3) i don't do this myself, but i've seen some people suggest blurring the whole sketch layer so you can still see the original sketch as a guide, but don't feel constrained to redrawing exactly on top of it

i also don't bother connecting/closing all lines, it's easier on the hand to not redraw one super long unbroken line fifty times lol

for this one, i redrew the lineart on a new layer. pay attention to areas of high detail density (where you have a lot of stuff going/lines intersecting). e.g., venti's hand, his braid, xiao's bangs... is it easy or difficult to see what's going? check for line tangents, adjust thickness, add more negative space to clarify what you're seeing. small adjustments can bring more visual clarity too; for example, even though xiao's hair falls over his face, i like drawing the eye/brow underneath so you can still see the shape of his expression... to make it easier to follow the line of his bang, i erased a little bit of the brow/eyelashes underneath so they don't intersect his bangs on both sides of the line, which helps create more depth and makes it easier to see the hair line

you can also vary line width to create depth! i highlighted in red where i drew with thicker lines, because these are the big important shapes that are the central focus. highlighted in purple elements that are further away from the viewer (the hair on the other side of their face, xiao's necklace) or finer details (venti's nails)

contrast makes things fun and easier to look at it...! i like using thicker lines around the main shape/contour of something and drawing the interior details with finer lines

fill + lines colored: this is less of a good example because it's all grayscale, but i think coloring your lineart also helps contribute to contrast and depth o: you can retain details but make it easier for the eye to parse

those are the main things i think about for lineart; hope that helps (at least somewhat)...!

[ruinaimagines]

heyheyhey can I have some netzach x reader hcs? thank you!!

Yes you may! Also I’m realizing that I tend to default to writing the lor versions of the characters, so if you ever intended the lobcorp version instead just let me know and I’ll write them again for you. You’re welcome, have a good day/evening/night! Also sorry for this one taking a couple days, but it’s here now.

Netzach x Reader Headcanons:

He’s not the most romantic type, at least in the traditional sense. It’s more of he has no idea what he’s supposed to do, and he didn’t really expect to make it this far. There might not be glamorous and fancy date nights unless it’s something you initiate, but he expresses his care in his own ways.

He’s a pretty leisurely guy so you don’t really have to worry about too much stress in a relationship. However, his procrastinating does impact his schedule because he might have to stay behind longer when working. If you don’t mind, then it’s a perfect opportunity to spend more time together.

If you’re a little disappointed that you can’t have as much free time together then I’m sure that he will make the push to do better. The reason he was so casual about it to begin with was lack of motivation and a disliking for the job, but if you serve as a reason for him then he has more reason to get things in on time.

Honestly, even if it isn’t intentionally, you help him get out of a lot of bad habits. You’re someone that he can talk and rant to, and who has been through the experiences of Lobotomy Corporation and relate to an extent about his troubles. He’s a pessimistic person, but seeing you manage to enjoy yourself even after all you’ve been through encourages him to start seeing things in a more positive light.

Netzach is tired a lot of the time, and prefers to spend time sleeping over anything. However, you make his waking moments a lot more pleasant. It’s not as though it’s some shift into someone who’s energetic and ready for anything, but there’s a visible difference.

In the artbook it says that one of his hobbies is to paint puzzle pieces. I think that one of the ways he shows he cares is by making intricate art and giving it to you. He puts a lot of thoughts into these gifts, as well as passion because they’re honestly quite stunning.

Whether it’s a normal painting or a whole puzzle, he’ll probably come up to you at random and hand you the items. He doesn’t really know how to approach it. I wouldn’t say he’s super nervous, Just kind of awkward and slightly flustered because relationships are a new thing for him and he doesn’t understand proper timing if there is such a thing.

Of course you greatly appreciate this, and he eases up when he sees that big smile plastered on your face. You might come up and give him a big hug, which he returns.

Continuing off of his sleepiness, he tends to be pretty loose in his affections. He’ll come up to you, sling an arm around your shoulder, and lean into you. It’s as though you’re a pillow to him, because he could fall asleep on you in an instant.

He also likes when you loosely play with his hair. He clearly knows how to tie it up but it’s still very lazily done. If you just come up and fix it for him, or in general tidy him up a bit he’ll find it to be quite lovable. He thinks it’s nice that you regard his health highly, but he will absolutely lightheartedly tease you about it.

I actually feel like he would tease you about things a lot. Of course if you genuinely communicated that you prefer if he didn’t, he wouldn’t, but otherwise he will. This is a big way that he expresses his adoration, and is one of the easiest for him to do.

He’s actually really good at picking up other people’s emotions. It’s actually one of the biggest reasons why he hates working at the library as he did with Lobotomy Corporation. He hates seeing others suffer, because it makes his heart churn.

For this reason, if you ever seem to be a bit insecure about a specific thing he might joke about then he will catch on almost immediately. He’ll probably confront you later just to make sure that everything is okay, and get clarification.

But it’s not just for when he’s being playful. If you’re having a rough day in general then he will absolutely be able to tell, whether you want him to know or not. He understands that sometimes you don’t want someone to pry, or don’t want to talk about it at the moment, and he won’t push you too.

Actually really great at comforting. For all the times you’ve helped him through depressive states, he’s absolutely going to return the favor. He understands how it feels to be miserable, even if he doesn’t know the specific reason why, and will try to get you to feel better.

He comforts a lot through physical touch. Sitting down together, just embracing each other in a heavy yet comfortable silence. He isn’t the best at speaking and using his words to cheer you up, but he tries. And when he does talk, he can say some really memorable things.

If you both struggle with something, I think you help use one another to encourage each other to improve. When you’re not isolated things can seem a lot more approachable.

If you are both artists then I feel bad for the mess of colors that you’re going to have to clean up. In all seriousness though, I think that having someone who has a similar passion as he does results in a lot of fun. He’d love to see anything you create and try to interpret what it means, if it does have a meaning.

If you’re creative in other ways besides painting or drawing, that’s wonderful too! If anything, Netzach might ask for you to teach him. Be it woodburning, woodcarving, sculpting, pottery, embroidering, sewing, knitting, crocheting, cooking, decorating, or something else he’s fully willing to try it out.

If ever you use him for a reference in something you create, he just savors it forever. He may know how to respond to comments better, but for you to build something specifically for him that you put your heart into it’s just on another level.

He understands what it’s like to put emotion into a creation, as well as how challenging it can be. You don’t have to worry about it being ‘good’ or ‘bad’ because it’s beautiful to him.

You know the little chartreuse humanoid blob creatures that run around? They’re actually adorable and it’s even cuter because you’ll notice that Netzach will just be doing completely normal things and they’ll be hanging out on his shoulder or head.

Sometimes when the two of you are relaxing with each other, one might come up and squeeze in to sit in between you. You’ve begun naming them too in order to keep track. The other patron librarians don’t understand how you can so easily tell which is which.

If you both are busy on opposite ends of the floor, he might send one of the little critters with a note in hand. The poor thing can bareful pick the paper envelope up, but when you see them heading towards you, you immediately know who it’s from.

Of course there’s something scrawled out that’s completely sweet in it, talking about how if you two didn’t have work you could be hanging out instead. He’s being blatantly dramatic, but it doesn’t stop from getting a laugh out of you.

It’s like passing notes in class. Who knows, maybe you’ll write a response too and get the little guy to deliver it to him.

[laurenairay]

“You clean up nicely” - with Josty please and thank you 💚

Anon, I hope you don’t mind that I wrote this one for my OC!Chloe and Josty series - the idea I had just fit with them so well that I couldn’t resist!

“You clean up nicely”

Words: 714

*

To put it simply, Chloe was freaking out. Quietly freaking out, naturally, but freaking out all the same. Why? Because somehow, Tyson had convinced her to come to a charity gala that the Wild were putting on – and it involved wearing a long fancy dress as well as heels. Neither of which were in her comfort zone, much like making nice to people she didn’t know wasn’t. But Tyson had asked, all the sweet hope in his eyes, and she’d crumbled like wet paper. He’d even arranged a dressing shopping date for her alongside the other better halves (which hadn’t been nearly as stressful as she’d feared), and she’d mostly forced it to the back of her mind.

But the night had finally rolled up, and she could no longer pretend it wasn’t happening.

“You clean up nicely,” Tyson teased.

Chloe raised a sharply-drawn eyebrow, pursing her lips. “I want nothing more than to take these heels and this fancy dress off. Don’t push me, Jost.”

Tyson just laughed, shaking his head fondly. He was getting less and less intimidated by her grumpiness, that much was clear – and it would be concerning if it didn’t make butterflies flicker in her stomach. The butterflies only swirled harder as she took in how good he looked; three piece suit in a gorgeous dark blue, white shirt crisp and tie perfectly straight. Even his curls looked artful, rather than messy.

And she got to call him her boyfriend. Wow.

“You can take them off later. Much later. In my bedroom,” he grinned.

“You can stop there,” she said dryly, although she couldn’t stop the smile tugging at the corner of her lips.

He was ridiculous. But he was hers, so she supposed it wasn’t all so bad. Chloe glanced over herself in the full-length mirror by Tyson’s front door, biting her bottom lip briefly at the near-stranger she saw. Her white bleached hair was loosely-curled with half pinned up in a fancy twist, unlike her usual pin-straight do. Her eyemake-up and lipstick were toned down from their usual dramatic deep red and greys, more neutral to suit the gown. And the gown, whew. It was a deep blue floor-length evening dress, no sleeves but high-necked, again so very different from how she usually dressed. But when she’d tried it on, she knew it was the one, regardless of the enthusiastic responses from the other women. Along with the glittering jewellery and sharp stilettos, it all felt like armour, almost, and made her feel fierce enough not to feel too out of sorts.

She did feel like a whole different person though. Was that a good thing? Wasn’t she meant to be her completely authentic self? Chloe had sworn long ago never to change any part of herself for a guy, especially how she looked, and everything about her appearance tonight was the epitome of doing what she’d promised herself not to.

But then again, maybe it could be fun to dress up as a different version of herself, just for the night. She knew Tyson wasn’t always the happy-go-lucky media darling that the world saw, so maybe, just maybe, she could put on that best front too? For Tyson.

It scared her slightly how much she was willing to do for this boy, to be honest.

“Look at us, first charity gala together,” Tyson mused, hooking his chin over her shoulder from behind, resting his hands on her hips.

“Who would’ve thought,” she said, finding herself smiling.

“Not me!” Tyson said, grinning into the mirror, his eyes catching with hers.

Chloe couldn’t help but laugh at his stupid tiktok reference, the satisfaction in his eyes telling her that he’d done it on purpose for that very reason. Ridiculous, ridiculous boy.

“Ready to show me off to the world?” she said, trying to keep her voice calm and neutral.

The amused look Tyson sent her let her know he didn’t believe her tone for a second.

“I’m always ready. Let’s do this,” he grinned.

The soft squeeze her gave her hand told her every unspoken thing she needed to know. The night was going to be fine. The night was going to go well. The night was going to be fun…and she couldn’t wait to get it started.

*

Tag list: @starshine-hockey-girl @senditcolton @youngbeezer

(if you want to be on the taglist for my Tyson and Chloe series, please put your url in this google form!)

[yoongiseesawmp3]

just about perfect - seonghwa

howdy folks, back with another fic but i’m switching it up on ya! i might start writing regularly for ateez as well so y’all are cool with that right? right.

summary: this is NOT inspired by seonghwa saying he watches nevertheless. why would you even think that.

warnings: not the kind of warning u were expecting but there’s no smut (i know its based off a show abt friends with benefits so that’s why i’m warning u. do not get ur hopes up) a little cussing, a lotta me waxing poetic abt the perfect man park seonghwa. also slight tomfoolery from the teezers

word count: 10.6k

the bookstore just off campus is your current go-to study spot, mostly because the cafe inside has a drink special where you buy one coffee and get a voucher for the new bakery next door. so, let’s just say the past few days you’ve been well caffeinated and well fed. you’re on the way there now, already planning out what your treats are going to be. 

today you were supposed to meet your “study group” after your last class of the day, but it looks like you’re the only one here so far. and you say “study group” loosely, the professor for your music theory elective encouraged everyone to make a study group for the upcoming final and your group of friends chose to work together. there’s been no studying going on, though.

especially not when hongjoong’s new friend seonghwa has been flirting with you literally nonstop. he’s apparently friends with everyone else in your group too. san knows him from an art class they took together last semester, meanwhile wooyoung and yeosang claim they lived on seonghwa’s floor freshman year and he always bought them booze. seonghwa denies it, only because hongjoong would slap him if he admitted to buying alcohol for underage kids. 

tasteful delinquency aside, seonghwa is a fine person. you mean personality fine, not like, fine fine even though san would beg to differ. he knows you’ve developed a thing for seonghwa despite trying not to, and he’s secretly trying to get you two together. 

which is why san suddenly texts you and says he can’t make it, and neither can yeosang or wooyoung. they decided to ditch studying to practice for the final in their dance class instead, so it’ll be just you, seonghwa and hongjoong. and little did you know, hongjoong was trying to do the same thing as san. so we’ll see how this goes. 

- 

“y/n, you can’t do that,” hongjoong warns you, referring to the scale you were trying to fill out. 

“why not?” you ask, looking down at your work and wondering what’s wrong.

“because it’ll sound like shit,” seonghwa replies before sipping his coffee. 

“what he said,” hongjoong agrees, grabbing your paper and erasing some of the notes you had scribbled out. “it should look more like this.”

you glance over at what he’s done on top of your old work and sigh. you took this class because you like music, and you thought learning about how it works would be interesting, but it’s hard. 

“can’t you just do all my work for me?” you plead. at this rate, you don’t think you’ll be able to pass the final. 

“no, i don’t want you dragging me down in this class,” hongjoong replies. “my grades are great.” 

“i hate you.”

“what are you struggling with, y/n?” seonghwa asks as he finally looks up from his laptop. he had been working on an assignment for another class this whole time because he, like hongjoong, is great with music theory. so maybe this study group was a good thing. 

“here, you can switch seats with me,” hongjoong says as he clears the spot next to you on the weathered loveseat. “i’m going to look for a book i should’ve started reading two weeks ago.” 

before you can protest, seonghwa is sliding his laptop across the coffeetable and slides himself into the spot next to you. when he sits you notice your thighs are touching, which is weird because there was plenty of space when hongjoong was here. you don’t know that seonghwa is doing this on purpose, that hongjoon really left so he could flirt with the cute cashier in the cafe to give you and seonghwa some alone time. 

“so,” seonghwa starts once he’s settled. “what are you struggling with?” 

“hmm, all of it?” you reply. your answer makes seonghwa smile, and you like the way his eyes sparkle when he does.

“then i guess we’ll be here a while.”

-

about an hour later, seonghwa has walked you through all the major and minor scales you need to know for the test and you’re starting to understand a little more. you’re still having problems with the back of the study guide where you have to come up with note combinations that can apply to those scales, but you have time to work on that since the final is two weeks out. right now, your brain is fried and you need a break. 

“do you mind if i go get a coffee?” you ask seonghwa, who was in the middle of sending you the minor scale cheat sheet he made. he looks up from his laptop and shakes his head before he speaks.

“i would only mind if i can’t come with you.”

“it’s literally right over there, why do you need to come with me?” you question.

“i think i would just miss you too much,” he pouts, and you roll your eyes. seonghwa shuts his laptop and stands up. “what if i need coffee too?”

“you already had one,” you remind him as you stand.

“yeah,” he nods. “but teaching you is exhausting, so i need another. c’mon.”

he walks ahead of you to the counter, and you’re too busy searching for your wallet to notice he took his jacket off, revealing a sneaky tattoo on the back of his neck. it isn’t until you’re behind him in line that you get a look at the hand drawn star right on the nape of his neck, and you have to refrain from reaching out to trace the lines.

“i didn’t know you had a tattoo,” you decide to say. he turns around and instinctively rubs his hand across the tattoo, smiling at you with those sparkly eyes again.

“yeah, i have a couple,” he replies. “but this one is my favorite.”

“why?”

“because my name means ‘to become a star’, so i like knowing that i have a reminder with me all the time,” he explains.

“nice. it’s really pretty.”

“thanks, so are you.”

“sir?” the barista calls, pulling seonghwa’s attention from you. he steps up to give his order as you stare at the tattoo again, noticing alongside it a couple of freckles that almost make it look like a constellation.

“y/n?” seonghwa’s voice draws you out of your thoughts and you realize he’s finished ordering. “what do you want?”

“oh, i can get it,” you begin, but he cuts you off.

“no, my treat,” he insists, and you sheepishly walk up to the counter to give your order. seonghwa makes a mental note of what you get, and he also snatches the bakery voucher from you before you can put it in your pocket. you make a confused sound and seonghwa laughs. 

“why’d you do that?” you whine.

“you only get to use it if you come with me to the bakery later,” he teases. “say yes or i’m drinking your coffee and getting myself an extra cupcake.”

“fine,” you huff. “but i have an assignment due at midnight, so i can’t stay long.”

“it’s 4pm, that’s not enough time for you to finish it?” he asks while you step out of the way for the next customers.

“i haven’t started yet,” you admit. 

“you like saving things until the last minute, don’t you?”

“what makes you say that?”

“well, it looks like you haven’t been studying music theory at all, and now this,” he shrugs. 

“not everybody can be perfect like you, park seonghwa,” you grumble as the barista places two coffee cups on the bar. you hear seonghwa giggle shortly, and you give him a questioning look.

“so you think i’m perfect?” he smirks.

-

it’s the next day, almost midnight, and you really need spray paint. 

why? well, you’re stressed because you have so much to study for your finals and you don’t know where to start. yes, seonghwa helped yesterday, but he’s not in all your other classes, so you’ve decided you need a break from tearing your hair out over the material you can’t comprehend. the best way to distract yourself from that is to finally paint that dresser you got from a garage sale a few months ago, hence the spray paint. 

thankfully, san is still awake, and he has a car, so you ask him to pick you up for a quick run to the art supply store that’s surprisingly still open. a bonus of going to college in the city, you can get anything almost whenever you need it. 

“thanks for coming to get me,” you tell san as you hop into his car. 

“no problem,” he replies. “i was bored and hongjoong said he needed paint pens so this is a win-win situation. plus, i get to hear about your date with seonghwa yesterday.”

“it was not a date,” you groan, choosing to ignore the suggestive way san is looking at you right now. 

“but you spent the whole afternoon together,” san starts. “he bought you coffee and you went to the bakery together and talked about, like, your favorite colors and stuff. sounds like a date to me.”

“how do you know all that?”

“seonghwa told hongjoong and then hongjoong told me,” he explains as he turns onto the street that’ll take you to the art store. 

“well tell hongjoong that i’m still mad at him for ditching us,” you reply. “and i’m still kinda mad at you and the other two for bailing in the first place.”

“hey, if it wasn’t for me, you wouldn’t have had your first date with seonghwa,” san points out.

“it was not a date!” you cry. “we studied most of the time we were together, then he bought my coffee and bullied me into going to the bakery. i couldn’t stay long because i had a paper to write, so we talked about stupid shit until i had to leave.”

“it sounds like the beginning of true love to me,” san sing-songs. 

“stop the car, i’ve decided to walk.”

-

when you get to the store, san separates from you quickly because he sees his friend mingi behind the counter. they’re busy talking while you search the store for the paints, and you’re so busy looking up at the aisle names that you don’t notice you’re about to run into someone. 

“hey-” you start to complain, but you recognize the man you almost bumped into. “oh, seonghwa.”

“y/n,” he smiles at you. “what are you doing out so late?” 

“uh, distracting myself from how small my brain is,” you explain. “what are you doing here?”

“hongjoong needed paint pens,” he says, and you’re about two seconds away from finding san and slapping him. did they really plan this too? 

“why didn’t he come get them?” you ask as you remember what you’re here to find. your eyes scan the aisle behind seonghwa and you spot the paint cans at the end, but he’s in your way.

“i offered,” he says with a shrug.

“you must be a really good friend, then.”

“well you did call me perfect yesterday, so...” he trails off, smirking. you roll your eyes at him but can’t help the blush creeping up your neck. he interrupts his new favorite activity of staring deeply into your eyes (just to fluster you, of course) and he sees that you’re looking past him at the shelves of paint. “you need something down here?” 

“um, yeah, the spray paint,” you reply, awkwardly trying to skirt around him to get into the aisle. he steps aside to let you through, but still follows you as you search for the color you want.

“what are you making?” 

“i’m painting a scuffed up dresser i’ve had for a while, so i want something simple that’ll go with the rest of the things in my room,” you explain as you stop walking and crane your neck to scan the bottles on the top shelf. seonghwa stops behind you and places his hand on the small of your back as he reaches for a can just out of your reach.

“what about this one?” he offers, handing you a can of light blue paint. it’s really pretty, and it’ll stand out with the white furniture you already have, but you really like it.

“oh, that’s perfect!” you say as you take the can from his hands.

“there you go again,” seonghwa teases, and you shoot him a questioning look. he smiles as he responds. “calling me perfect?”

“i said the paint was perfect, weirdo,” you snap. “but thank you for finding this.”

“anytime,” he tells you. “you said your favorite color was blue right?”

“right...” you mumble, thinking back to the conversation you had at the bakery yesterday. “how’d you remember?”

“ugh, i’m hurt!” he exclaims, hand flying to his chest in mock surprise. “i can’t believe you already forgot that it’s my favorite color too.”

“hm, guess i was too distracted by how perfect you are,” you joke. seonghwa laughs at that, a sharp sound that seemed to catch him off guard. he covers his mouth to stifle the sound, but you’re close enough to the cash register now that it draws attention from san and mingi.

“find what you need?” san asks with a shit eating grin.

“hm, just about,” you say as you place the paint on the counter. “couldn’t find a hammer big enough to drop on your head, though.”

“wow, harsh,” san scoffs. “and to think i brought you here out of the goodness of my heart.”

you’re too busy half-bickering with san to notice that seonghwa has paid for your paint and the pens he promised hongjoong. he mumbles something to mingi, who then hands him a piece of paper. he scribbles his number down for you before handing you the can and his number. 

“i gotta go, but i’ll see you later for study group, right?” he confirms. you’re still processing the fact that he keeps buying things for you and you can’t respond in time, so san steps in.

“yeah, y/n will be there,” san assures seonghwa. he nods and shoots you one last smile before he excuses himself and leaves. you’re stuck with san and that stupid grin again. he looks at you and then checks the paper with seonghwa’s number on it. “yep, i think you got what you needed.”

-

even though seonghwa very willingly gave you his number, you’re still afraid to text him. it’s kind of hard to believe that he’s into you the way you’re into him, so you’re fine with just seeing him for study dates. or, uh, not study dates. study gatherings. with just the two of you. because the other guys have bailed, again.

this time, though, you’re not working on music theory. you have an assignemnt due for your ethics class, and you need family and friends to read about your results from this morals test. you wanted san to do it, but he’s currently “chasing a sweet piece of ass,” whatever that means. he’s probably bothering his lab partner that he claims descended from greek gods. you would usually tease him for saying something like that, but it’s a thought you’ve had about seonghwa, so you kept your mouth shut.

anyway, you know you need someone to answer these questions for you, but you can’t bring yourself to ask seonghwa. he kept up his “perfect” demeanor again today, showing up at the bookstore before you so he could get you the coffee you like. you would ask why he keeps doing things like this for you, remembering your favorite color and your coffee order, but you’re afraid he’ll stop if you bring it up. little do you know, every time he learns something new about you, he writes it down in his notes app, keeping a running tab of the things you like.

“y/n?” you hear him ask. his voice snaps you out of your thoughts and you realize you’ve been staring at him this whole time. the smirk you’ve become so familiar with makes another appearance as he gets ready to tease you. “something on your mind?”

“no, i...no,” you stutter. “i’m just thinking.”

“about what?” he questions as he lifts his coffee cup to his lips. you watch the way he slightly pouts them before taking a sip and you have to stop yourself from staring again.

“just this ethics assignment i want to finish,” you explain. “sorry, i didn’t realize i was staring at you.”

“must be an important assignment,” he nods, leaning forward to put his cup back on the table in front of you. you get another glimpse at the star tattoo on his neck as he does. “because i was definitely staring at you too, and you didn’t even notice.”

“oh?” 

“yep,” he confirms. “i was giving you my best puppy dog eyes and everything.”

“puppy dog eyes?” you ask, unsure of what’s coming. “do you need something?”

“eh, not really,” he shrugs. “i’m just worried.”

“why?”

“you never texted me the other night.”

“after the art store?” you ask incredulously. 

“isn’t that when i gave you my number?” he smirks. 

“i didn’t think you wanted me to text you immediately...”

“well, it’s been three days and i still don’t have your number,” he pouts. 

“hold on a second,” you mumble, reaching for your bag. you fumble around in there, searching for the piece of paper with seonghwa’s number on it as he watches you fondly.

“what are you doing?”

“looking for your number,” you reply like it’s obvious. seonghwa laughs a little and places his hand on your arm to stop you. 

“you do know i’m right next to you, and i could just put my number in myself?” he asks, eyes sparkling as he half-smiles at you. you blush, because no, you weren’t thinking about that. you sheepishly hand him your phone and watch as he adds his number and then texts himself. he gives your phone back and replaces it with his own before asking, “what’s your favorite emoji?”

“um, the smiling cowboy?” you offer, not sure why he’s asking. he laughs again, like he did in the art store, but this time it’s harder for him to quiet the breathy giggles coming from his chest.

“why that one?” he asks, typing something quickly.

“it’s funny,” you shrug. “why?”

“needed something cute to put next to your name, but you’re a weirdo, so it’s not as cute as i was imagining,” he explains, showing you the contact card in his phone. your number is saved as “y/n 🥰🤠” and you can’t help but laugh. you look up at seonghwa, warmth in your eyes, and he starts laughing too.

“see?” you giggle. “it is funny.”

“whatever, at least now i have your number.”

-

after exchanging numbers with seonghwa, you’re starting to let yourself believe little by little that he might feel the same way you do. it’s not anything serious, but there’s definitely something there. the texts he sends are always flirtatious, and it has your heart beating faster every time you get a notification, hoping that it’s him. you’re in the middle of studying for your spanish final when you feel your phone vibrate on the bed next to you, and you smile when you see who it’s from.

seonghwa 🥺💫, 6:28pm: are you busy rn?

you, 6:28pm: not really, just studying

seonghwa 🥺💫: can’t be studying too much if you replied that quickly 🥸

you: what do u want

seonghwa 🥺💫: be nice :-(

you: sorry

you: hi seonghwa, how are you? what do you want.

seonghwa 🥺💫: come get dinner with me? 

you: right now?

seonghwa 🥺💫: no, in 30 years. yes right now 

you: but i’m studying ://

seonghwa 🥺💫: liar!

you: fine, when and where?

seonghwa 🥺💫: i’ll pick you up in ten 🤠

- 

“you sure like staying close to campus, huh?” you ask seonghwa as he walks you about a block from your usual hangout and to a little hole in the wall restaurant that looks like it could seat maybe 20 people, uncomfortably. 

“i know what i like,” he responds with a shrug. “speaking of things i like, you look nice.”

“oh, thank you,” you semi-laugh. you’d been close to panic trying to figure out what to wear (because you’re not sure if this is a date) so you went with something simple, but you’re glad seonghwa likes it. not that you wanted to impress him. but you did, a little. anyway, he looks...well, perfect, wearing black ripped jeans and a velvet-y navy shirt. you continually have to stop yourself from reaching out and stroking his arm just to feel the soft fabric (and maybe his muscles). 

“so i take it you’ve never been here before?” he asks as he hands you a menu. you shake your head no in response. you can’t tell if he’s doing it intentionally, but seonghwa leans closer into your side as he explains. “you pick a main entree, but each dish comes with these sides. they say no substitutes, but i know the guy behind the counter so you can ask for more of something else if you don’t like one of them.”

“i might do that,” you say. “i don’t really want dumplings, so could i get extra sweet potatoes?”

“of course,” he nods, noting the way you smile slightly. it makes your eyes light up, and his heart does a little backflip knowing that he’s the reason for it. well, the sweet potatoes probably are, but he’s the one getting the sweet potatoes, so he’s taking that win for himself. once you both confirm what you want, he places his hand on your back and guides you to the counter.

“hey seonghwa!” the tall guy with a lopsided smile behind the register greets. “long time no see. who’s your friend?”

“hey yunho,” seonghwa smiles back. “this is y/n, a vip, so make sure you give us the good stuff.”

“extra sweet potatoes?” yunho laughs. you and seonghwa both nod as yunho continues taking your order, and you find yourself comfortably leaning into seonghwa as you wait for yunho to calculate the price. before seonghwa can even think about taking his wallet out, you’re handing yunho cash for the food, which makes seonghwa sputter.

“what? y/n, i was going to pay,” he whines, and you simply shake your head.

“nope, my turn,” you tell him. “you’ve bought me coffee too many times.”

“but i asked you out! i don’t want you to pay on our first date if i’m the one who brought you here,” he continues to complain.

“so this is a date?” you confirm, right as yunho asks suggestively “oh, this is a date?”

“yunho, give y/n’s money back,” seonghwa says, ignoring the two of you. “i’m paying.”

“yunho, if you give me that money i’ll be forced to leave and stand seonghwa up for our date,” you say, emphasizing the last word. now you’re glad you wore clean pants.

“seonghwa, why don’t you let y/n pay for this, and then you can get the next one?” yunho suggests, sending you a wink before he turns to the kitchen to share your order with the chef. you’re left with a flustered seonghwa, which is a sight you’re not used to, and it makes you laugh.

“c’mon,” you say as you pull on his arm. “let’s go find a table.”

you’re the only ones in the restaurant, so the food comes out pretty quick, and you have to stifle a laugh when you see that someone has arranged the sweet potatoes on a separate plate in the shape of a heart. seonghwa blushes at this, and you’re taken aback by how shy he’s suddenly become.

for some reason, seonghwa showing signs of nervousness puts you at ease, and you lead the conversation to something stupid san told you about the boys and their shenanigans at their dorm. the story has seonghwa laughing, and he confirms that yes, yeosang does have a sword by the tv, and yes, hongjoong did threaten to use it on him after he lost an intense match of fifa. 

“in hongjoong’s defense,” seonghwa begins, “i do think yeosang cheated. wooyoung was definitely helping him.”

“it still sounds ridiculous,” you tell him. “why does anybody need a sword?”

“yeosang is just...yeosang,” seonghwa replies. “he’s weird but he won’t admit that to anyone.”

“i’m just saying, if i went to someone’s house and there was a katana by the tv, i’d haul my ass outta there.” seonghwa giggles at how serious you look, but this conversation reminds him...

“you never showed me your room,” he says bluntly. you pause for a moment, spoon halfway to your mouth, and seonghwa realizes how that must sound. “i mean, the paint, your dresser. you never showed me a picture once you fixed it up.”

“oh,” you breathe out. “let me grab my phone, i can show you.”

“show him what?” a familiar voice suddenly asks from the seat next to you. when you notice that san, and some of your other friends, have snuck their way into the restaurant, you have to keep yourself from groaning.

“why are you here.”

“i’m hungry,” san replies, then turns to seonghwa. “you didn’t tell us you were getting dinner.”

“i didn’t want to,” seonghwa deadpans. “ i wanted it to be just me and y/n.”

“too late for that, pal,” honjoong says as he slides into the seat across from you. “hi y/n.”

“hey hongjoong,” you grumble. “please tell me you’re getting your food to go.”

“we were, but then we saw our good friends eating all by themselves and thought we should join them,” hongjoong teases. by now, the rest of the boys have sat down around you, some at other tables, and one of them you don’t recognize. that must be jongho, their younger “roommate” who technically lives in first year housing but doesn’t get along with the other guy in his room. you’ve heard seonghwa complain that jongho eats all of his snacks. 

“well, i hope you enjoy your food, but seonghwa and i were just about to leave,” you lie, looking at seonghwa with a stare that pleads ‘please go along with this.’

“where are you going?” wooyoung asks, one table over.

“my apartment,” you respond quickly, standing up as seonghwa follows your cue with a stupidly adorable look on his face.

“oh, perfect!” san chirps. “we’ll come with you!”

- 

so much for your date with seonghwa. it was hard to stop the boys from insisting they all join you at your apartment, especially after yunho said his shift was over and he could really use some destressing. and by destressing he meant booze, so you currently have 8 tipsy boys scattered across your living room. if you thought they were loud before...it’s amazing that your neighbors haven’t complained yet. 

it started off innocent enough, you were just playing card games at first and the loser of each round had to drink. then it turned into never have i ever, and each time you put a finger down you had to drink. then yeosang suggested shots, and it really went downhill from there. san tried convincing everyone to play a round of spin the bottle just for the chance of making you and seonghwa kiss, but mingi and wooyoung were the only ones down, so majority ruled there. 

“san, stop pouting,” you laugh, noticing that he’s upset over his evil plan not working out.

“it’s fine,” he lies, duck lips on full display. 

“spin the bottle is such a tween-y game too,” jongho pipes in. “and we’re adults, so it would be kinda stupid to play it anyway.”

“says the baby of the group,” yeosang scoffs. 

“what about truth or dare?” hongjoong suggests. “still immature, but we can make it fun.”

“yes!” san shouts, suddenly back in a positive mood. 

“i’ll start,” mingi volunteers. he takes a deep breath as he looks around the room, eyes narrowing when he looks at you and seonghwa. you’re currently smushed into your armchair together, not really by choice, because the couch is completely full and neither of you wanted to sit on the floor (you know how dirty it is, and seonghwa has a bad hip). thankfully, mingi has mercy on you and directs his gaze to his best friend. “yunho, truth or dare?”

“truth,” yunho slurs out. you’d say he’s the opposite of stressed by now.

“did you sleep with that girl you met at the party last week?”

“no,” yunho replies quickly, cheeks turning a knowing shade of red. “i just walked her home.”

“and went missing until the next morning?” yeosang asks. he gets a few snickers, and you laugh a little too because you remember san and wooyoung talking about their friend who disappeared for a few hours last weekend.

“whatever,” yunho groans. “yeosang. truth or dare.”

“dare,” yeosang chooses confidently. 

“kiss wooyoung on the cheek.”

“no,” he replies, just as confidently. 

“then take another shot,” yunho concedes, waving his hand at the stubborn boy. wooyoung mumbles something about how kissable he is as yeosang downs what looks like more than just a regular shot.

“this is boring,” jongho whines, which makes him the next target. he chooses dare, and you have to detach yourself from seonghwa so you can go into your kitchen and find the lemon juice in your fridge so jongho can chug what’s left. he’s sputtering after a few sips and gives up, grumbling up to you, “ i hate you for that.”

“hey, it wasn’t my dare,” you defend yourself. “you owe me lemon juice.”

“i’ll give it to you if you choose dare,” jongho challenges. you roll your eyes and take the bait, earning a round of ooo’s from the boys around you. 

“make her kiss seonghwa,” someone hisses.

“or me!” wooyoung chirps. jongho looks over at him with a death glare, and wooyoung shrugs. “i just want someone to want to kiss me.”

“i think you’re cut off,” hongjoong says as he leans across your coffee table to move the bottle away from wooyoung.

“everyone be quiet!” san shouts. “jongho has to give y/n a dare.”

“hmmm,” jongho starts, tapping his finger on his chin. “what should i do?”

“for someone who said this was boring, you’re really milking this,” seonghwa says under his breath. you’re perched on the arm of the chair, close enough to hear him, but thankfully no one else does.

“what’s that other childish game called?” jongho wonders aloud. “seven minutes in heaven? i think you should do that with seonghwa.”

“do i have to?” you pout, and your reluctance makes seonghwa stiffen. he thinks you said that because you’re uncomfortable, and not because you don’t want the boys pressing their ear up to the door while the two of you make out.

“rules are rules,” hongjoong concludes, nodding his head toward your room. “go have fun. i’ll keep the kids from bothering you.”

you look to seonghwa, who isn’t looking directly at you. you tentatively take his hand, giving it a squeeze before you stand up and lead him to your room. there are so many catcalls, whistles and cheers coming from your friends that you barely hear san say “take your time! it doesn’t have to be just seven minutes!”

once you get to your room, you let seonghwa go in first and then you lock the door behind you. he quirks an eyebrow at that, and you shrug shyly. 

“don’t want one of them bursting in,” you explain. seonghwa nods, and you both fall silent. it’s not necessarily awkward, just tense. you both want to do what seven minutes in heaven is meant for, but you’re not gonna make the first move and seonghwa still isn’t sure you even want to be in this situation. so he takes this time to turn around and take your room in, pointing to your dresser.

“is this it?” he asks. you hum out a yes in response, and he runs his hand over the freshly painted wood. “it looks nice. whoever picked out the color sure knows what he’s doing.”

“eh, he’s just lucky,” you joke, and you both laugh. you move to stand next to him and place your hand on top of his. “sorry we couldn’t finish our date.” 

“sorry my friends are so annoying,” seonghwa adds. 

“sorry san pushed me into your lap earlier,” you continue, and seonghwa smirks.

“well, i didn’t mind that,” he says. “i wanted you to sit with me, but i didn’t want to draw attention.”

“oh,” you squeak, feeling a blush on its way to your cheeks. a heavy silence falls over you, and seonghwa is the first to break it.

“listen, if you don’t want to kiss me, that’s cool,” he begins. “i kinda got the vibe earlier that you didn’t want to do this, and that’s cool. if you don’t want to do this we’re still cool.”

“you don’t sound very cool about it,” you chuckle, and seonghwa’s face flushes. “but i was only nervous because i didn’t know if you wanted to kiss me.”

“oh i want to kiss you,” he says firmly. “have for a while.”

“why don’t you do it then?” you challenge. seonghwa takes a step closer to you, and before you know it he’s pinned you against your dresser. you balance your hands on it and the cool wood helps you ground yourself as your body heats up from having seonghwa so close.

“are you sure?” he asks, only a few inches from your face. you nod and whisper out “i’m sure” and seonghwa quickly cups your face and smothers you in a kiss. it starts off slow, and your face warms at his touch. once you relax into it you move your lips against his, nipping at his bottom lip slightly and earning a groan from the man before you. you take the chance to slip your tongue past his lips as you bring your hands up to the nape of his neck, slowly brushing through his soft hair. his hands find their way to your waist, gripping tightly but not too hard, and he leans in to get as close to you as possible. you keep kissing for a few moments, but eventually you need to breathe so you lightly tap on his neck. he pulls back, breathing heavy, and his smile shines like the most beautiful stars in the sky. “so?”

“so?” you repeat, equally out of breath.

“that was nice.”

“it was.”

“the boys are gonna know we made out.”

“of course they are,” you laugh. “your lips look swollen.”

“so do yours,” he counters. 

“but wasn’t that the whole point of us coming in here?” you ask. your hands have fallen to his chest, and you finally get a chance to smooth out the soft velvet of his shirt. and you notice his chest is very, uh, firm, too.

“we didn’t have to kiss,” he says with a shrug. “we could’ve just talked.”

“about what?” you ask with a smile.

“my keen eye for interior design,” he replies. “how sexy you look in low lighting.”

“so you think i’m sexy?” you tease, and seonghwa rolls his eyes.

“i just had my tongue in your mouth, does that answer your question?”

another silence comes over you both, but this one is lighter than before. you’re subconsciously rubbing your hands over his shirt, and seonghwa brings a hand up to cover yours, stopping it right over his heart.

“we don’t have to tell them,” you offer. “i mean, they kept it a secret from us that they were trying to get us together this whole time.”

“oh no, i was fully aware of that,” seonghwa tells you, and you scoff. “do you think i really wanted to get out past midnight just to buy hongjoong some expensive markers? he never even paid me for them.”

“well now i really don’t want to tell them we kissed,” you whine. “how could everyone be in on this except me?”

“it was more fun that way,” seonghwa teases before pecking your lips. “but we can keep this between us, for now.”

“i think we should,” you say with a nod of finality. “it’s more fun that way.”

“c’mon, let’s go back out there before they send a search party.”

you return to the living room before seonghwa (so he can sneak into the bathroom and fix his hair) and you find most of the boys asleep on the floor. you sigh as your eyes meet hongjoong’s, and he shrugs.

“at least they didn’t bother you,” he says. 

“can you help me find pillows and blankets for them, please?” you ask, and he nods before jumping into action. he throws one of the couch pillows down to yeosang, who takes it and hugs it to his chest. you have a couple extras in your hall closet and you pass them to yunho, who’s sitting up when you come back. he places one under mingi and another under jongho and keeps the last one for himself. san and wooyoung are on the couch, and hongjoong tells you he’s fine with the armchair. seonghwa is out of the bathroom by now, and, like the perfect man he is, he’s carrying blankets in his arms. the three of you work on getting all the boys covered before you realize that seonghwa doesn’t have a place to sleep.

“i can take another spot on the floor,” he assures you. “do you have another pillow i can use?”

��let him sleep in your room, y/n,” san mumbles from underneath wooyoung. you pause and look at seonghwa, who’s looking back at you with something you can’t read in his eyes. 

“it’s not a bad idea,” hongjoong pipes in from somewhere within the blanket cocoon he made for himself. “he was just there. you can put him on the floor.”

“y/n?” seonghwa asks, pulling your attention back to him. “i don’t have to if you’re uncomfortable.” 

you would try to fight it, so you could hopefully ignore taunts from the boys in the morning, but you’re suddenly really tired and you just want to lay down.

“i’m ok with it if you are,” you yawn. “take the rest of those blankets, we can use those for your bed.”

“make good choices,” honjoong mumbles as seonghwa leads you back to your room, and you hear san going “oooooo” as you close your door a second time tonight. this time you don’t lock it though, and when you turn around you see the blankets on the floor and seonghwa sprawled out on your usual side of the bed, so you tell him.

“well why don’t you come join me then?” he teases with a grin. you blush and shake your head.

“scoot over.”

he does, but only by an inch. he still looks at you with that flirty glint in his eyes, and you can only shake your head again as you crawl into the tiny space next to him. he immediately wraps an arm around your waist and gives you a tight hug, placing a kiss on your shoulder.

“thank you,” he whispers into your back.

“for what?” you reply.

“for not putting me on the floor. and for liking me.”

-

you just woke up from maybe the best night of sleep you’ve ever had. seonghwa’s arms and legs are draped over yours, so you can’t get up without waking him, but having him so close is a welcome source of warmth. your apartment is quiet, and the sun is peacefully filtering into your room through your curtain. it’s the perfect moment, with your perfect boy, until- 

“i think they’re still asleep,” you hear someone whisper from the hallway.

“wooyoung, leave them alone!” another voice hisses. there’s silence for a moment, and then a smack, followed by someone jiggling the doorknob to your room. you quickly untangle yourself from seonghwa before you watch as the door cracks open a bit, revealing wooyoung in all his bed-headed glory. you close your eyes as much as you can while still peeking at who’s sneaking into your room, and you see jongho close behind him. he must’ve been the one who got smacked. or did the smacking. either way, they’re both staring at you and seonghwa in your bed, but you notice wooyoung smile and pause.

“i knew it! they definitely got together last night.”

“how do you know?” jongho asks. “maybe y/n let seonghwa sleep on the bed because of his old man hips.”

“whatever. they’re in the same bed, so that’s at least something,” wooyoung replies. “lame, but still something.”

“what did you expect?” jongho asks incredulously. “you thought we would catch them doing it?”

“i mean, not exactly, but couldn’t i get a little cuddling maybe?”

“you want me to cuddle you hyung?” jongho deadpans.

“yes, actually-”

“hey!” a third voice whisper shouts. you hear footsteps and then you see hongjoong pulling wooyoung out of your room by the neck of his shirt. “leave them alone. and you, jongho, i’m surprised you’re playing along with this.”

“well...” jongho mumbles.

“well what?” hongjoong asks, sounding like the mom-est mom to ever mom.

“they’re the only ones that know how to make breakfast.”

“both of you, out! now!” hongjoong semi-shouts, and you feel seonghwa stirring behind you. hongjoong doesn’t realize you’re both awake and closes the door as he leaves.

“what time is it?” seonghwa grumbles out, and your heart skips a beat hearing how deep his voice is when he wakes up.

“early,” you reply, turning around to be face to face with him. his arms slowly snake around you as you look up at him and share a sleepy smile. “how can you look this good when you first wake up?”

“weird, i wanted to ask you the same thing,” seonghwa replies, leaning in to kiss you but you touch your fingers to his lips and stop him, so he pouts. 

“uh uh, not until i brush my teeth,” you say as you try to get up, but seonghwa’s grip on your waist keeps you down.

“please,” he pouts again, sparkly eyes on full display as he pleads with you. it takes about half a second for you to cave and kiss him quickly, catching him off guard. he shifts to pull you on top of him and deepen the kiss, but he loses his grip on you and you’re able to slip out of bed before he can stop you. a noise comes from deep in his chest that almost sounds like a growl, and you shoot him a glare.

“hey, you got your kiss,” you warn. “now i’m going to make breakfast for the gremlins. do you want to help me?”

-

after the intrusion into your bedroom, wooyoung obviously told the boys what he saw. but, like jongho said, most of them thought it was just because of seonghwa’s hips that made you share a bed with him. there wasn’t enough evidence otherwise, and none of them really expected either of you to make a move despite their efforts. but they’re starting to get suspicious.

little do they know, after the set up fell into place, seonghwa wanted to take you on a real date. the only way to do that without your friends knowing was to sneak around without them, which was kind of fun. it was nice having this bubble with seonghwa, just the two of you, but it was getting harder to avoid your friends. seonghwa lived with them after all, so they pestered him about how often he was out and who he might be out with. 

“san keeps asking if you’re a good kisser. i told him i didn’t know, and then he asked if he could find out for me. should i be concerned about that?”

“we need to be more careful, yeosang said he saw us at the taco place yesterday, and he said we hold hands weird.”

“hongjoong has been saving seats for us at the bookstore, and each time we don’t show up i think he steals something from me.”

you have been ditching study group lately, but that’s more because you need to do some deep studying for your other finals and your friends are too much of a distraction. seonghwa can be distracting too, but at least he can take a hint and back down when you really need to focus. it’s been nice actually, just spending time in his presence. you were so nervous around him just a few weeks ago, and now you feel like you could trust him with just about anything.

today, you don’t get any personal study time, though. your music theory final is coming up and seonghwa wants you to get all the terms memorized before the review session in class tomorrow. he’s motivating you with a kiss for each right answer and the promise of him making dinner once you’re done. you’re currently cruising on five wrong in a row, and you’re getting frustrated. 

“c’mon y/n, you know this,” seonghwa encourages you, but you just whine in response. “we did this like four minutes ago, and i told you the answer so you could remember it.”

“yeah, well i obviously didn’t,” you snap, and seonghwa fakes being hurt. “sorry. can we skip this and come back to it?”

“sure,” he agrees quickly. “but first you need to write down the circle of fifths for me.” 

“i hate you.”

“hm, wrong answer,” he hums. “but kiss anyway. maybe that’ll keep you from getting so grumpy.”

“i am not grumpy,” you defend after kissing him gently. “i’m stressed.”

“you know what you need?”

“hm?”

“you need to go on another date,” he begins. “with me, obviously.”

“damn, i wanted to know if yunho was free,” you tease, and seonghwa doesn’t think it’s funny. “now who’s grumpy?”

“ignoring that,” he scoffs, but you can tell he’s trying not to smile. 

“when would we go? i’m really busy the next few days.”

“what about after class? we could both clean up and do something nice before we get some dinner?” seonghwa suggests. “why don’t we go to that art exhibit you told me about?”

“ugh,” you groan as you learn your head on his shoulder. “that sounds amazing, but we both said we’d be at study group tomorrow, remember? hongjoong practically begged me to be there, and i said i would ask you to come.”

“what about not letting them know we’re a thing?” he pouts. you don’t tell him about the youngest two that saw you all cuddled up, but instead you assure him that you inviting him to study group wouldn’t look unusual to the boys.

“plus, if we both cancel last minute, they’d know for sure we were up to something together,” you continue. “so yes, we need to go on another date, but just not tomorrow.”

“fine,” he mumbles. “now i am grumpy.”

“would something from the cafe make it better, my little boba ball?” you ask in a baby voice.

“ooh, actually, boba sounds good,” seonghwa smiles. “let’s go.”

-

the next day you get to the bookstore late because your professor gave a pop quiz at the end of class and you’ve been so busy studying music theory you forgot to study for anything else, so you needed all the time you could get. when you finally arrive, all of the boys are there, surprisingly. since you’ve never seen yunho, mingi and jongho here before you’re a little confused, but happy to see them nonetheless. 

as you walk up to the usual spot, you notice a coffee cup sitting in front of an empty chair, and you point to it as the boys greet you.

“is this for me?” you ask, placing your bag on the ground before grabbing the warm mug. “thank you, coffee angel.”

“you’re welcome, actual angel,” seonghwa replies, and you almost choke on your first sip. what is he doing?? you’re supposed to be sneaky sneaks and keep your relationship quiet, but here he is flirting with you in front of everyone!

except, that’s what he did before you started dating too, so it’s not out of the ordinary. in fact, no one pays any mind to it, so you’re left with a burnt tongue and blushy cheeks while seonghwa looks at you with a stare that only you would understand. you quickly shoot him a wink before you put your mug down and reach for your notes.

“um, hello? what are you guys doing?” you ask yeosang next to you, who’s rabidly tapping at his phone, just like everyone else. if they weren’t distracted they might have picked up on the vibes between you and seonghwa, but thankfully they’re the oblivious ones now.

“playing a game,” half of them respond, just as hongjoong says “writing lyrics” and jongho mumbles “texting my mom.”

“aren’t we supposed to study?” you ask. “or did you already learn everything in the world while i was gone?”

“well you’ve missed a lot of study sessions, y/n,” san begins. “so yes, we have learned everything. now we just come here to hang out.”

“so then why did you insist on me being here, joong?” you ask newly orange-haired hongjoong. it’s been a while since you’ve seen him, he must’ve dyed it recently. 

“we missed hanging out with you,” he says simply, eyes peeking up from his phone. your heart constricts at this, and you catch seonghwa’s eyes again. you might have to rethink the whole sneaking around thing if they really do miss you.

“yeah, we missed you AND we had to make sure you and seonghwa are still spending time together,” wooyoung adds, wiggling his eyebrows. 

“where have you been anyway?” yeosang asks. “you don’t have other friends.”

“yes i do,” you scoff.”

“give me names and numbers.”

“ignore him,” yunho tells you, and you nod.

“i always do. but i’ve been really stressed about finals, so i had to do some soul searching on my own to decide if i need to graduate or not.”

“seems fair,” mingi agrees. “i almost had to drop a class.”

“because he forgot he was even enrolled in it,” jongho clarifies, and you laugh.

“but seonghwa has been missing a lot lately too,” san starts. “i wonder what he’s been doing.”

“or who,” wooyoung snickers, and hongjoong reaches over mingi to slap him.

“i haven’t been feeling well,” seonghwa says with a shrug. “i’ve mostly been in my room, or at the pharmacy to get medicine.”

“oh, so you could’ve bought new paper towels for the dorm then, huh?” hongjoong asks, and as the two of them start to bicker, yeosang nudges your arm.

“i saw you two,” he says quietly. “at the mexican restaurant.”

“i know,” you whisper back. 

“so i know you’re dating.”

“are you gonna say anything?”

“hmmm, no,” he thinks. “but you have to buy my silence.”

“with coffee?” you offer, and yeosang smiles. he stands up and puts his phone away before speaking, looking directly at seonghwa.

“my best friend y/n is gonna buy me coffee, we’ll be back,” he says as he loops his arm around your shoulders. seonghwa watches as you walk away (and stares at your ass) but he’s mostly thinking about how he’s a little jealous right now. like, he knows you wouldn’t do anything, he trusts you, but he doesn’t want his friends thinking you have a thing for anyone but him. so while you’re gone, he talks.

“i haven’t been sick,” he admits. “i’ve been seeing y/n.”

“we all knew, dude,” hongjoong says casually, and everyone agrees.

“then why didn’t you say anything?!”

“because YOU weren’t saying anything,” jongho replies.

“yeah, we figured that we did enough trying to get the two of you together, so if you didn’t end up dating then that was your fault. we were just waiting on you to make a move,” san explains. 

“then why did you let us lie to you like that?”

“it was fun,” wooyoung shrugs. “by the way, did y/n let you sleep in the bed because of your hips, or because you wanted to cuddle?”

the red tint on seonghwa’s cheeks gives him away, and the boys start laughing and ooo’ing so loud he’s afraid you’ll hear it over by the coffee counter.

“ok, ok, just. keep this quiet for now,” he says. “y/n may still want this to be private.”

“but you just told us about it,” yunho says. “why would you do that if you knew y/n wouldn’t want you to?”

“well,” seonghwa begins. “i need your help with a date.”

-

seemingly by an act of god, you have time this weekend to go on a date with seonghwa. little did you know, he’s the reason your plans suddenly freed up. san said you could critique him and wooyoung for their dance final another day, hongjoong said he would send you his music theory notes from the review and save you hours of studying and then yeosang found the exact spanish book you needed to finish your performance final ahead of time. it was the perfect circumstances, orchestrated by your perfect boy and his perfect-adjacent friends, who all agreed to help him with this (hopefully) perfect date. 

it starts with seonghwa picking you up from your apartment, coffee in hand. 

“you’re the man of my dreams, you know that?” you say in passing as you grab the warm to-go cup. even if you were only saying it lightly, it made seonghwa’s heart soar. you notice he hasn’t said anything to you, so you meet his eyes to find them full of stars like always, but this time there’s something scheme-y in there. he’s up to something.

“are you ready for the best date of your life?” he asks with a smile that puts the stars in his eyes to shame.

“yes, i think,” you respond, grabbing your keys and locking your door. “but i don’t know what we’re doing.”

“and it will stay that way until we get there,” seonghwa says firmly as he laces his hand into yours. you squeeze his hand and sigh.

“i guess i just have to trust you then.”

“but that won’t be hard right?”

“wait, didn’t you say something earlier about going to that art exhibit? is that it?” you question, even though you know he won’t budge. seonghwa just shakes his head no and punches the button for the elevator. a moment of silence passes before you guess again. “a movie? you rented out a movie theater, like you said you wanted to?”

“i tried, but it was expensive,” he admits and you have to laugh. “funds are tight right now.”

“i watched you buy a couple hundred dollars worth of legos the other day babe. maybe that’s why the date fund is lacking.”

“you’re not coming between me and my collectables, y/n,” seonghwa scolds. the elevator pings to open to the parking garage under your building, and you’re confused for a moment before he explains. “i want this to be a nice date, so yunho let me borrow his car. it would be no fun if we show up all sweaty because we were walking.”

yunho’s car, which is actually pretty nice thanks to all the tips he gets from flirting with clientele, is parked by the elevator. seonghwa leads you to your door and opens it for you, revealing a basket of flowers and candies in the seat. you coo as you pick it up, and seonghwa looks on proudly. you lean over to give him a kiss, and you whisper your thanks as you pull away.

“that was mingi’s idea,” seonghwa tells you, smiling brightly “i got all your favorites.”

“i see that.”

“but look around the flowers,” he guides you. “there’s something else.”

you hold the basket up to eye level, noticing the silver sparkle around the stems of the flowers. is it glitter? you tug at a flower and realize it’s a chain, and attached is a hand drawn star charm to match the tattoo on the back of seonghwa’s neck. 

“seonghwa, this is beautiful,” you say breathlessly. “we’re gonna match! that’s so cute. who’s idea was this?”

“would you believe me if i said it was mine?”

“no.”

“that’s what jongho said too,” seonghwa laughs. “it was his idea.”

“tell him thank you,” you say as you play with the charm. “mingi and yunho too. it’s a good date so far.”

“oh baby, it hasn’t officially started yet.”

-

in the car, seonghwa plays a mix of songs that he really likes, and he’s mixed in some of your favorites too. he has to keep convincing you that the songs aren’t clues, because you ask every time a new song plays.

“so are the songs just distractions?” you ask, finally giving up on getting any information out of him. 

“why do you ask that?” he smirks as he turns down a familiar road.

“because i can tell you just took the long way to the record store,” you explain. “are you stalling?”

“me, what? why?” his response does nothing to manage your suspicions, and suddenly you remember how your friends have helped with the date so far. are they all in on this? you need answers.

“seonghwa, i swear to god, if san or wooyoung jumps out to surprise me wherever we’re going-”

“that won’t happen,” seonghwa laughs while he parks the car. “we’re here anyway, and i promise this is the last surprise of the night.”

“the record store?” you question, looking up at the shop you’ve been to countless times to shop and to bother hongjoong while he works. 

“yeah, you said there was a new album out you wanted to get, right?”

“yeah,” you blush. “but i just said that in passing, i didn’t expect you to remember.”

“y/n, i want to know everything about you,” seonghwa says seriously. “so of course i remembered. wait, don’t get out yet. i’ll open the door for you.”

as seonghwa helps you out of the car, you quiz him on the other things you’ve said around him that you didn’t think he remembered. sadly, he does remember you saying your favorite disney movie is ratatouille and you’ve always wanted to try the mushroom/cheese concoction remy makes in the first scene.

“that’s a little embarrassing,” you sigh as you reach for the door. you’re going to complain some more about how seonghwa doesn’t need to remember everything about you, but the sight in front of you makes you stop mid-breath.

the record store has been decorated from floor to ceiling in fairy lights, and there’s more flowers all over the place. as you look around, you notice the flowers are tucked in the shelves next to your favorite artists. next to the door is the album you were talking about, and a little further down you see your favorite album of all time with a few extra flowers next to it. you’re still taking everything in when you notice hongjoong behind the counter.

“did you help him with this?” you ask breathlessly, and hongjoong nods. 

“yeah, but the flowers next to the albums was my idea,” hongjoong explains. “we’re running a new special called “y’n’s favorites” so everything that’s marked with a flower is yours, if you want it. everything is on the house.” 

“i...i don’t know what to say,” you start. you turn to seonghwa and there are those starry eyes that you love to see. you reach out to cup his face and smile. “thank you. this is...perfect.”

“it’s even more perfect now that i’m here!” wooyoung shouts from the front door of the shop, followed by san and yeosang. you look at seonghwa and all he does is laugh.

“what? at least he didn’t jump out and scare you,” seonghwa teases.

“oh, i would never,” wooyoung nods with a half-serious look on his face. “but i definitely wouldn’t do that when i have your dinner in my hands, i can’t let all this hard work spill.”

“especially not on my clean floor,” hongjoong warns. 

“you made dinner for us?” you ask wooyoung, but you’re looking at seonghwa, who simply shrugs.

“yep, i made one of your favorites and then threw in a couple recipes i thought you’d both like,” wooyoung says as he and the two other boys place food down on the counter by the register.

“and what did you two help with?” you ask san and yeosang.

“who do you think made this place so beautiful?” yeosang asks incredulously.

“yeosang did the lights and i bought all the flowers,” san explains with a smile that makes his eyes turn into happy half moons. “you’d be surprised how many places i had to go to get all your favorites.”

“i really don’t know what to say,” you whisper in disbelief. “i can’t believe you all did this for me.”

“it was all seonghwa’s idea,” san tells you. “we did it for both of you.”

“yeah, we’re just his little minions,” yeosang jokes, and wooyoung giggles. 

“you tell me how that food tastes, got it?” he asks as he backs out of the store. “don’t say anything mean though. i only accept compliments.”

“wooyoung,” seonghwa smiles tightly. “please leave.”

wooyoung holds the door open for san and yeosang as he gives seonghwa a thumbs up. san waves goodbye sweetly and yeosang gives you a knowing smile before the door closes behind them.

“well, i think that’s my cue to go,” hongjoong says, handing the keys to seonghwa. “don’t make a mess. if i get fired, i’m selling all the stuff i stole from you when you were sneaking around with y/n and not telling us about it.”

“i’ll keep him under control,” you assure hongjoong, who nods as heads to the door. you don’t see him leave because seonghwa has stepped in front of you, and he places his hands on your waist to pull you closer.

“so,” he begins.

“so.”

“what do you want to listen to while we eat?” he asks, pulling you by the waist over to a row of records. you stand there quietly, looking over the albums hongjoong pulled to the front for you, and you just can’t believe how much work went into this date. you can’t believe how sweet it is that each of your friends helped, and you put your hand on seonghwa’s and give it a squeeze.

“hwa,” you whisper. he hums in response, but you place your hand on his cheek and guide his gaze to yours.

“thank you,” you tell him. “thank you for this.”

he smiles at you with a look in his eyes that can’t be anything else but love, and you smile back with that much love, if not more, in your own face. you use the hand on seonghwa’s chin to guide his lips to yours, and you lose yourself in the kiss, in seonghwa, for who knows how long.

“mm, y/n,” he mumbles against your lips before detaching. “the food will get cold.”

“you’re right,” you sigh. “but we didn’t pick any music.”

“how about this?” he asks, pulling an album out from the top shelf. you smile at the cover, knowing exactly what song seonghwa wants you to hear. 

“perfect,” you agree. “i’ll put it on while you get the food?”

and that’s how you end up eating the perfect meal, on your perfect date, with all of your favorite things around you, sitting right next to your perfect boy.

[damiano-mylove]

The Members if Måneskin when their S/O is stressed

Alcohol, lil bit of swearing, smoking, but nothing out of the ordinary *Masterlist*

Vic

A night of R&R is definitely in order

Vic would go out during the day, get you a nice bottle of wine, your favourite flowers, and your favourite video

By the time you got home, a warm dinner was on the table, of your favourite meal, candles lit, and succulent aromas wafting from the table, making your mouth water - the flowers rested in the middle of the table, in vibrant colour, and the wines poured into two glasses on either side of the table

There was the mastermind, standing just beside you, with a mellow smile on her lips and a bright look in her eye

You couldn't help but wrap your arms around your girlfriend tightly, which she returned quite happily - her efforts had not been for nothing

For the night, she would separate you from your main source of stress

Instead of studying, or writing spreadsheets, or worrying, or doing any of those things that get you all up in knots, the night was spent in a scenario straight out of a story book

After the film, Vic whispered sweet assurances in your ear, landing sweet kisses against your neck, until you felt sleep take you away

The next day seemed to fly by a lot smoother, only for you to come back that night with almost the exact same treatment, as well as all of the chores that taxed you already done by your girl

Thomas

What you needed was to get out, let your hair down, let your mind wander from the thing causing you stress, for once - you're just wound so fucking tight, and Thomas recognizes that

The main event of the night was a concert, for a local band, but it was still killer

It was in a nightclub, where you both got comfortably drunk and loose - the friends you'd met together while boozing it up started to leave for the night, but you and Thomas were still going strong

The club closed, so you both had no choice but to go home, where a bottle of Jack Daniels was awaiting your arrival

Thomas put on a playlist of your favourite songs, that he had made for you, while you poured both of you a glass of Jack - and by God, you were already so in the bag that the burn didn't even register

Drunkenly, you and your boyfriend danced around your living room, sloppily kissing and collapsing on the couch every other step

The room was full of careless laughter, decently loud music, and the most sincere words ever spoken in all of known history - you smiled till your teeth got cold and Thomas laughed until his stomach cramped

By the time you finally woke up, neither you nor Thomas remembered going to sleep, especially not on the couch

But now, your main worry was the crick in your neck and the booze in your blood - whatever was getting you riled up before was put in the rear view

Ethan

When Ethan figures out that you've been weighed down by stress for the last little while, his first move is to talk to you, and judge his next move from there

Sometimes just talking to you, having a real and deep conversation about what's going on and what's going through your head, is enough to have a certain weight lifted off of your shoulders

Others, Ethan suggests walks, stupid little outings, or nights in

Ethan would take you to the zoo, or an art museum, or take you to the local supermarket and practically play hide and seek, if what was going needed a distraction and a bit of laughter

On those nights in, Ethan would buy a couple face masks for the two of you, and a bottle of Rose. There would either be a film, or smooth music, or just talking while the masks dried, or while you two snacked on a myriad of small things (grapes, kielbasa, cherry tomatoes, all the sort and all your favourites)

Ethan had magical hands, so massages were always on the menu, and they always relieved any physical tension

The further into the relationship you got, you started just telling Ethan when you were stressed, instead of it being a guessing game, but he got too good at noticing the warning signs, so it got to a point where he would help you work through any stress that may come up, before it came up

Damiano

The superhero

Damiano would relieve your tensions by taking part of your load; helping you study in ways that felt too comfortable to be stressful, doing some of your paperwork, helping you measure ingredients - anything that weighed on you, Damiano would help you with

If it was something he couldn't help bear the burden of, Damiano would opt to sitting you down and having a conversation

These conversations would be over a nice, hot tea, or a perfectly chilled Pinot Grig, with cigarettes in hand and one of Damiano's softer rock records playing softly behind

When the stress would lighten after you cried, you had no shame in crying on Damiano's shoulder, as he always provided you a shoulder to cry on without hesitation or judgement

Damiano would even start making much more balanced meals and having you both sleeping and eating as if you were influencers, on the way to perfect bodies (it would help, despite how funny you felt)

In the end, Damiano always took a piece of your troubles away, to make it that much easier on you

tell me if it sucks <3

[avissapiens]

Avis' Subject Symposium

A Crash Course in Trance Pt 1: Files.

(Art by Acro @sodalite96/https://twitter.com/sodalite96 Used with their permission. Go check them out!)

So often new subjects come to me and they don’t know the first thing about trance. None of its mechanics or methods, and so it can be very daunting for them; to step into such a wide abyss without knowing what to expect and what is expected of you. Many of them, even experienced subjects, expect that 100% of the work is and should be done by the Hypnotist. In truth both parties, the hypnotist and the subject, must be willing and able. But while it’s more readily apparent what must be done in order for a tist to be successful in their endeavors, many subjects/potential subjects can have a hard time understanding what it takes to get the most out of their trance, both from pre-recorded files, and from live sessions with a hypnotist. So, I’m here to give you what is in my opinion, the essential Crash Course to Trance, starting first with trancing to files.

Location

Find yourself somewhere nice, darkened and quiet, where you know you won’t be disturbed. This is already a hard task for a lot of subjects, living with other people always increases the chance that one might barge in on you, eyes glazed over, drooling all over yourself. Or that someone’s reckless pounding from above might shake the abyss so thoroughly that it takes you out of trance. But here is the thing I will stress. While physical quiet is a good idea as it allows you to focus on the words and suggestions streaming into your head. What matters so much more is internal peace and quiet. A location where you can feel at ease and safe and secure in yourself. A locked bedroom surrounded by mountains of pillows. Your favorite plush armchair that threatens to swallow you almost as well as the Abyss of Trance. The peaceful morning route on the train whose path you know so well that you can be lulled into trance just by the rumbling vibrations of the tracks beneath your seat. Wherever you can be comfortable.

The ideal location for trance I'm sure does exist in some government facility or therapists office somewhere, where you can be dropped into an isolation tank and be brainwashed clean. But most of us will never encounter that. So what matters then is the ideal mindset for trance, which is one of peace, safety, trust and assurance.

Equipment

This is one of the reasons so many love using files. Because its barrier to entry is so low. All you really need is something to play the file on and a place to listen. This is in contrast to working directly with a tist where you need, at the very least, A good internet connection, maybe a camera, Another person who you trust and who might be wildly inconsistent. Or working in person which probably will require a whole location and time-table to get set up. No, Files are relatively simple and they are no better or worse than live sessions for certain purposes. However, like all simple things, they can be elevated by improving its ingredients. A box cake from the store and a home-made chiffon are functionally the same, but their difference comes in the ingredients and technique.

So for trance I recommend spoiling yourself a little, at the very least buy yourself some decent quality over-ear headphones. Many file-makers (myself included) add frequencies and binaural beats underneath the main track. These serve the purpose of training your own brain’s waveforms to a certain frequency, thus more easily taking you into trance. But they can only be detected and properly registered with some good headphones. Additionally, The encapsulation of headphones provides a more immersive experience, isolating you and transporting you through the trance experience like you are in your own little world. Trust me. $600 studio headphones aren’t needed, But a good quality wired $40 headset goes a long way and is multi-purpose. A decent quality chair or mattress also will serve you well, not just in trance but in life.

Focus

Trance is a very tricky state that, like all things, requires practice and patience to master. Staying in trance is like a tightrope walk, teetering gently between the realm of consciousness and awareness, and the oblivion of total subconscious and sleep. It is the liminal space between the two, that subconscious space that makes trance and hypnosis possible. It is the state where your mind is most open to total suggestion and where magical things can happen. So how does one walk the line between these two modes of being? The answer is focus. Or rather Half-focus. Focusing without focusing. With descriptions like that it can sound like some kind of Zen riddle, but that is often what it feels like sometimes. Now this is not a laser focus like you would expect in a classroom setting, no one is being tested here. It's a more gentle and subtle focus. Like focusing on the world around you. Focusing on the wind on your face, the rise and fall of your lungs; On the way your body just goes loose and slumps over. The trick is to go in and to follow along, to listen and pay attention and try to comply with the suggestions given at first. Suspend your disbelief and engage with it unironically and without pretense. If you notice yourself drifting, don’t try to force it back to focus. Simply let it explore where it wants and to carry on organically. Nothing in trance needs to be forced. Simply focused on and allowed to happen.

Many subs oscillate in trance, their minds ebbing and flowing like a Sine wave; wavering in and out of trance, one minute aware, the next minute completely blank and asleep, and then for a brief moment in bliss. But it averages out to trance at the end of it. One must also not fear dropping out of trance. Focusing too much on that eventuality makes it a self fulfilling prophecy. Just Focus-not-focus-half-focus and enjoy yourself.

Apprehension

So many subjects look at files and their mind begins to spin with endless questions and anxieties. Worries about “losing themselves” or “changing too much” or “doing things they don’t want to do.” It’s a valid set of concerns for a new subject, uninitiated in the true mechanics of trance and only knowing of hypnosis what is shown in the media. Evil villains and monsters brainwashing our heroes to do horribly enticing and arousing things. So ingrained is this idea that it even crossed over into the allure of hypnosis files. And while I won’t say it's impossible for that to happen, I have 3 comments on it to ease your mind. First, with Files, one of the best things about it is that the subject gets to control practically every single aspect of the experience. When you do it, how many times you listen, and whether you listen at all to begin with. While all files should be clearly labelled with Content and trigger warnings and given an explicit summary of what they are and what they do, we know that is not the case. The amount of “Mystery files” I've seen on various forums irks me to no end. But it appeals to some people. However, for those who are not particularly fond of surprises you have the absolute power to review the file before you trance to it. You can give it a fully aware walk through, or just jump through segments to look for anything that doesn’t suit your taste.

Once you’ve done that however you might still be conflicted about some content. Not openly averse to it, but unsure. Dumbing down and IQ reduction are probably number one on this list. People are so terrified of somehow losing everything when they learn to stop overthinking things. For these concerns my second point suggests Introspection. Ask yourself “Why do I/Don’t I want this?” “Is it really as bad as my anxiety is making it out to be?” Because if you like something a lot, and really want it, then why should you deny yourself it out of fear? Even aside from dumbing, many desires are tinged with this air of guilt or fear. Terrified to acknowledge or grab hold of what we truly want and own up to it. In my estimation Hypnosis can be one of the best ways of dabbling with those desires because in trance there is no shame or judgement. Finally, my 3rd point says you don’t have to worry. If you really don’t like a suggestion you can always leave it behind. Your mind has built in fail-safes to reject suggestions you haven’t agreed to. A file cannot make you do something unless you want it, at least subconsciously. The old cliche goes “All Hypnosis is Self-Hypnosis” and what that fundamentally means is that as a subject you are the one who decides what happens. You consent and go along with things and allow them to happen to you. It is your desire, your focus, your arousal and your own subconscious that allows hypnosis to work. Subjects have more power than they know. I really hope it assists some people in vibing better with trance and files. I’ll be putting out another version for Live hypnotists later this month.

Thanks again to Acro for letting me use their Art, definitely go and support them on twitter. And If you want to support the creation of more hypnotic experiences that might help you practice that balance of focus then you can do so by subscribing to my Patreon, or to my Youtube channel. And if you want to interact more closely with me and my supportive community you can join my Discord server.

[chiwhorei]

pollock

paring: art major!k. tsukishima x fem!reader

genre: a dash of angst, hurt/comfort, smut, 18+ minors dni

wordcount: 3.2k

warnings: dom/sub dynamics, fingering, spitting, dacryphilia, praise, daddy kink, breeding kink, impregnating kink, soft and kinda hard dom!tsukki, sub!reader

a/n: ahhhhh!! this is my first longer fic to come out in a while and i am ~so~ excited to share this with everyone. i have been keening over the idea of art!major tsukki and i hope you all like him as much as i do! this is piece is brought to you by the hqhq monthly server collab, so please go check out everyone’s amazing writing, the masterlist can be found here!

hymn: validation by herrick & hooley, cherry hill by russ

“Your work is always technically very well executed, Tsukishima-san.” The round, bald-headed man shuffles through the photos on his desk, pieces of Tsukishima Kei’s senior project that he’s tried to fit together before his final exhibit only four months away.

“But,” the dreaded word has Tsukki restraining himself from a long eye roll, “It seems like you’re stuck. You still need one more piece for the show. What inspires you?”

You hear a resounding slam of the front door swinging open and meeting the frame again, followed by a shuffle of feet towards where you’re standing in the kitchen of your shared apartment. Tsukki’s mouth is set in a flat line, expression softening only slightly when he sees you leaning against the counter. You greet him with a warm, but cautious smile. It had been a horribly long day, grating on every thread of patience Tsukishima has. The bubbling of anxiety and frustration mixing into a sour look on his handsome face. You hate seeing your boyfriend so defeatus, much preferring the sardonic, confident air he usually holds. Both of your final years of college have been exceptionally taxing, Tsukki’s final art project being the most stressing of all. It seems like as days propel forward, closer to his due date, the less assured he is of his talents, his passions. It’s heartbreaking to see someone so brilliant struggle through a million half fleshed-out ideas and crumbled up leaves of paper.

You pull one of his hands to you, examining the stains of paint and ink across his long digits and kissing each finger softly. You wish you could get inside that big head of his and help in some way.

“Did you have a hard day at the studio, Kei?” You wrap your arms around his neck and search his eyes. He’s not always the best at talking to you, especially when he’s upset, so you don’t expect him to give you an answer. Instead, you rub his shoulders, trying to coax the tension out. He sighs deeply at the contact, hands moving to rest at the plush of your hips and gripping tightly when you work at a particularly sore spot.

“You’re too good to me, princess. Thank you” He leans down to press a kiss to your forehead, and you nuzzle into him. You don’t have the answers to his current road block, you don’t pretend to. But maybe, you think, you can offer him a more carnal outlet.

“Of course, Daddy.” The name hangs in the air for a moment, any response hitching in his throat. The title is familiar after years of being together, always being both comforting and electrifying. Since the title slipped out years ago for the first time, your boyfriend feels his cool demeanor snapping like a glow stick, leaving hot lust in its wake upon it rolling past your lips.

He pulls you closed to him by your ass, inhaling sharply at the contact on his jeans. All you have on is one of Tsukki’s loose, paint stained sweaters and a thin pair of cotton panties. You brush one of your bare thighs against his crotch, and he feels the stresses of his day falling out of frame. Your body is always a buoy to pull him back from the drowning of self doubt. A perfect slice of heaven he became addicted to from the moment he spotted you across the dusty stacks.

“What inspires you?”

The question rings in his head again, but with a new perspective. Tsukki hears pieces clicking together with your lustrous body pressed against him.

“Babygirl, I think I have an idea. But I’m going to need your help.” His hands move to cup your cheeks, scanning over your features and finding a devious glint behind your soft, e/c eyes. Tsukki trails a thumb over your bottom lip lightly, admiring how you lean into the contact. Always so eager to please him, your temperament goes straight to his cock every time.

“Anything for you, daddy.” You press your forehead against his, waiting patiently for his next move. There’s astounding beauty in the glossy, temperate look in your eyes that he wants to, has to, to freeze in time.

“I have a few things to set up. Come to the office when I call you,” Tsukki pushes a stray hair from your face with a fond smile before walking away, he stops for a moment to look at you over his shoulder, “Naked.”

Your mind races as to what exactly he wants to do with you tonight as you busy yourself with peeling off your clothing. There is very little that you and your boyfriend haven’t tried at least once, but the tone in his voice has left you reeling at the possibilities.

Your eyes catch your reflection in the hallway mirror, naked body completely exposed to your own scrutinizing stare. Had it been the stress causing the image in front of you to be so unsavory? Every plane of skin promoting a different insecurity. A blasted thing a hallway mirror becomes when you’ve never truly loved what stares back. You fuss with your hair in a feeble attempt to make yourself more presentable. The question of how Tsukishima sees you always rattling around in the back of your head, especially standing completely naked and waiting in your own insecurities.

“Princess, come here.” You are pulled from your deprecating thoughts at the sound of Tsukki’s warm voice. You walk into his office, and notice he’s changed into just a pair of grey joggers. The sight of the low hanging garment making you salivate so much you almost miss your surroundings. He’s struck some kind of inspiration, you can see it in his eyes as he adjusts his easel and props up a large, blank canvas. You fiddle with your fingers as he looks up at you.

“Jackson Pollock.” You meet your boyfriend’s eyes, confused by his seemingly random statement as he parses out different colored paints into small bowls. Red, blue, green, yellow. “He poured paint on a flat surface so that he could view every angle color could create, every curve.” Tsukki muses, dipping two fingers into the bright yellow hue sitting next to him, bringing them towards his face with contemplation. “But I think this sweet little body of yours will prove a much better canvas.”

His eyes provide no sign of bluffing, but you stare back at him dumbly. Sure, he’s used you as a muse before. Studying your hands or the way your hair falls in the sketches you see hanging up by his desk behind you. You love when he wants to use your body for inspiration, but is he really going to cover you in paint?

“We both know you don’t mind getting a little messy,” He trails his wet pointer finger across your collarbone, following a line towards your chin. He tilts your head up to meet his eyes, “Open your mouth.”

Your bottom lip parts from the top, eyes following the line of spit that drops from his mouth to your tongue with a resounding put.

You swallow thickly, the feeling of his control already bending your will to meet him at every pass.

“I want you to look nice and fucked out for me, baby. I want to show my stuffy professors where my inspiration comes from. I’m going to capture how sweet and submissive my little princess is and then everyone will get to see what I get to enjoy every night.” His unmarred hand moves towards your already disastrously wet pussy. You’re drooling at even the most slight contact, bucking into his hand in a plea for more. His words, complimentative but unmistakingly domineering, have your head becoming fuzzy.

“Daddy, please. Please touch me.” Your whines are music to his ears.

“Oh princess, I plan on it. But I need you to be good for me. You don’t want to mess up all my hard work do you?” His voice is steady, authoritative but still soft around the edges in a way that makes you feel gooey.

Tsukki leads you to the stool sitting in the middle of the room, and you perch on it with his hands keeping you steady. You are his muse and medium, his subject and his canvas to use in any way desired.

Smudges of color brandish every inch of your skin, each stroke is a reminder of where your lovers hands have been. Blue and pink splatter against your stomach, a vibrant red outline on each curve of your breast and purple fingerprints against your pert nipples. Your legs wear a trail of hand prints towards your glistening cunt, wanton cunt. Each marring of paint sits beside paths of hot, opened mouth kisses.

All that is keeping you balanced on the squeaky wooden stool is Tsukishima’s strong arms holding you captive in place. Your legs had been thrown over his shoulders after painting across your upper thighs in a sea of greys and greens. As soon as Tsukki’s eyes met with your bare cunt, his mouth was quick to follow.

He’s a mess of paint now too, muscular chest and arms covered in pigment and face covered in you. He’s always insatiable, drinking you in like it’s the only source of sustenance left in the world. He knows how to work you, how to propel you towards orgasm in a way no one else has ever been able to do. Worshiping your body with langued strokes of his tongue. You let out a pitchy moan in response to his mouth, pushing you towards an end you can feel in the back of your throat.

“I bet you want to cum don’t you, baby? I can feel it. Such an eager little thing.” Tsukishima ghosts his lips across your hot cunt, blowing at your clit to make you yelp. You’re so close, too close. Dangling above bliss but not tipping over, knowing you need permission. You’ve been so good for him, he has to give you your release.

“Please, daddy. Please let me cum.” Tears wet your cheeks as you beg, holding onto Tsukki’s blond locks like an anchor. All you need is his approval, but instead of persimmon you are met with a bawdy laugh.

You really should have known he wasn’t going to let you go that easy.

Tsukki stands up, wiping his mouth off with the back of his hand. You’re wrecked in every way. Hair loose and disheveled, body dipped in a thin layer of sweat and thick splotches of paint. The look on your face is equal parts pathetic and fervent.

“I need you to sit pretty for daddy, I want to capture how desperately beautiful you look right now.” His words make you preen, but it’s a compliment and a warning at the same time. He wants to capture the look of sweet pain of denied orgasm to display at an art exhibit of both peers and his seniors. Sadistic in Tsukishima’s own unique way.

You should have known better, Tsukki’s patience has always been astounding. You know all he wants to do is bury himself in you, but he wants even more to make you suffer under his stare. There’s plenty of times he unleashes his frustration out on you physically, ripening your ass cheeks in bright red handprints and ensuring you can’t walk in the morning. But it’s these moments that can be even harsher, when he regards you with steely eyes and a aloof threat, that make your nerves catch fire more than a spanking ever could.

He sits down to start sketching on the large canvas in front of him, pinning you to your position with a practiced glare and playing on your desire to please him.

You sit as still as you can, listening to the scratch of pencil on vinyl in an attempt to keep calm. Your cunt is still twitching, puffy and slick propped uncomfortably atop the wooden stool. Tsukki hums along to the rhythmic music coming from his phone speaker, a playlist you know to be the one that helps him concentrate on his work. His brow furrows in concentration, pushing his glasses back in place as he stares at you again. His eyes are calculating and coldly observant, but his mouth quirks up in a surprising smile.

“My perfect baby. So stunning in every way.” His thoughts start tumbling out without his usual sarcastic filter.

“I have never wanted something more in my life than you. All of you, all the time.” A genuine regard for you in the lilt of his voice clamps down on your chest. He’s called you pretty, told you he loved you a million times before, but there’s a calm resonance in his words as his hands move across the white caves in front of him that catches in your throat. With the pressure of graduation looming over the two of you these past few months, romantics have been pushed to the side to make room for laser focus on finishing your degrees.

Your eyes well at his confessional, struck by the vulnerability so unfamiliar to him. You missed this side of your boyfriend, unlocking it incrementally through the years and finding it virtually non-existent recently. He sees your shoulders trembling slightly and tears his eyes up to your form.

“I told you to stay still.” His voice comes out harsh, but melts away when he sees fat tears rolling down your puffy cheeks.

“Y/n, are you okay? Did I upset you?” He moves to console you, the action causing another round of sobs, your body on edge in every way after both the teasing and his impromptu affirmation. Your response surprises yourself just as much as Tsukki, not realising how starved of his affection you had become.

“I’m sorry daddy, I-I didn’t mean to interrupt you. I just- do you mean all that?” You lower your head in embarrassment, and Tsukishima’s heart breaks at the realization. Had he unintentionally disregarded you? Had he been ignoring you?

“Fuck baby, of course I mean it. I’m so sorry I made you doubt that.” He pulls you up into his strong hold, he lets you cry into his shoulder until your wracking sobs simmer to sniffles. He holds you tightly in an attempt at atonement. He has to do something to show you how he feels now that he knows his words have failed him. His actions have to speak in his place.

Tsukishima pulls you away slightly to meet his gaze before colliding his lips against yours. He traces his tongue in sonnets across your mouth, tasting the lingering essence of your arousal and the salt of your tears. He writes prose in the breathy gasps as you part for air, chests heaving. He has to show you what his words won’t always allow him to.

It’s bodies tangled together, covered in the colors of a man trying his best to show you how much he loves you. You had fallen to the floor at the behest of passion, Tsukki’s body covering yours, lips kissing any extension of your skin, uncaring of the paint covering both of your writhing frames.

You paw at his sweatpants as if they are the most offensive thing you’ve ever scene, Tsukki’s cock springs out to slap against the hard muscle of his abdomen. You don’t waste any time lining him up to your dripping folds, you’ve waited long enough. Hips crashing together like a fever dream, you’re wrapped in each other as if there’s nothing else in this world outside of a set of paints and four walls of a dimly lit apartment. The sun could be hurling towards the sidewalk just outside and Tsukishima, usually observant to a fault, would have no idea. All he knows is your body beneath him, clawing desperately at his back with every deep thrust, and the love poem he has written on your body. Reds across your breasts and brandishing your thighs. Greens and yellows across your neck, up your arms. Messy, sticky, covering the thin sheet Tsukki laid out to spare the hardwood.

Your panting, crying out for your daddy and consumed in the salty taste of love and lust crashing together like waves. His cock is heavy inside you, filling you up so completely. Tsukki rowes on, not daring to stop now, not with the resounding drumming of two hearts beat so perfectly together and the feeling of your clenching, velveteen walls hugging him like he’s coming home.

“I am so desperately in love with you. I want you like this, with me, forever.” He’s delirious, drunk on your body. Primal, as he stares down at you, colorful and completely conquered. He sees everything in your eyes, every baser desire, every hope for the future.

“I want to fill you up with my cum, princess. You are mine in every way. God, I want to see you swollen with my baby. Right here.” He presses against your belly, feeling his cock moving inside you from the splotches of pick and blue.

His confessional spurs you on, the emotions overwhelming. Feeling so loved, so needy, wanting everything the blonde above you is willing to give.

“Ah, Daddy! Please, please fill me up. I wa-want you to put a baby in me, I need it.” Your clenching tightly, each pump of Tsukishima’s cock better than the last.

“You are such a good girl baby, always saying exactly what I need to hear. Cum for me, princess, let me see how good I make you feel.”

His warrant is all you’ve needed this whole time, snapping to hours of tension with a sharp cry. You’re thrown into the pooling, honey-sweet feeling of release. Sinking every inch of your aching body into a blissed haze. Your walls spasm violently, tightening around him like a vice. He meets your hips with his own, knocking hip bones together like pool balls and holding himself in your heat as you milk his throbbing cock, stealing every drop of hot, while cum he has to offer.

He crumbles to the floor beside you, pulling you to his chest. Lying in a mess of paint and sweat and staggered breathing. Through the fog still resounding in your head, you hear Tsukki laughing lightly, “How’s that for inspiration?”

-Four Months Later-

You shift on your toes in anticipation, waiting for Tsukishima to release the hold he has around your eyes. You hear the bustle of people around you, the laughter and tinkling of glasses clinking together filling your ears. He kisses your temple before letting go, and you are met with a new reflection of yourself hung proudly on display. All of the places you see blemishes are drawn with vibrant purposeful color. Every curve of your form mapped out with the care only a lover could administer. Your naked form exhibited for hundreds of critiquing eyes, but there’s not a bone in your body that could feel embarrassed in this moment. As reflection so beautiful it’s unbelievable is staring back at you.

“Is this really how you see me, Kei?” You turn around to meet his eyes, his stare holds the love of epics. He would write you novels if he could, but this picture is worth a thousand words.

“Of course it is, baby,” He brings a hand to thumb at your slightly swelling belly.

“Of course it is.”

all writing is dymphnasprose’s original content, please do not repost or modify. do no read my content as asmr.©️

[kodzuvii]

CLUB STUPID [24: yeah probably]

next [25: premarital hand holding]

PAIRING - SUNA x FEM!READER

GENRE - crack + fluff

warnings - spelling and grammar errors lol guys its 1am plz-

SYNOPSIS - Club Stupid, an anonymous podcast meant for the dumb and dumbest to send in unspoken and nonsensical thoughts about issues they face in their day to day lives and for Y/n to speak out and give her opinions and feelings. Normal feelings though, nothing romantic like how she thinks this lazy guy with questionable hair in the volleyball club is actually pretty cute.

a/n: as an executive member and proud representative of the suna simp club (jk lol idk) it is my duty, to keep my simps fed. you’re welcome. please listen to some cute wholesome shit. 

“Look at this Samu, Suna really his own breed, how does he manage to look more dead compared to how he usually looks”

“Well Tsumu, he ignored the same girl twice in the same week and also got confronted by her cousin who’s also his captain. Pretty sad if ya ask me”

The twins snickered to each other as they eyed the quiet middle blocker who stood by his locker. “Did you see his blocks today Tsumu? I was afraid I was gonna break his toothpick arms with my spikes” Osamu whispered but made it loud enough for Suna to hear. Atsumu nodded, “yeah Samu, totally lame if you ask me. Thank God Yn wasn’t watching him” he teased. “Oi,” Aran called out as he packed up his things on his back that was sitting on top of the benches inside of the boy’s change room. “Lay off of him will ya” he scolded but the pair shrugged and continued to change out of their practice clothes. 

“What’s even happening?” Akagi whispered and Riseki could only turn to him and mirror the same lost look on his face and give a clueless shrug. They both just sat back and watched the scene unfold in front of them. The twins were teasing and throwing indirect jabs and insults towards their middle blocker who looked as if he was going through an existential crisis with the dull look in his eyes. 

Suna was quiet, everyone knew that. Yet somehow in some way, everyone could feel his energy hit an all-time low. He still attended practice sure, but it was like practicing with a pole lamp. He just stood there and observed whatever was happening but even then, his mind was somewhere else. Of course, this didn’t go unnoticed by the coach who gave him an earful about the proper attitude to be having during their practices. Did he listen though? Nah. Listening to a lecture required too much effort. He was just tired and done for the day and the anxious and nervous feeling bubbling up inside of him wasn't helping either.

Suna was stupid. He knew that. His attention span outside of the court was never the biggest and his lack of energy never helped increase his intelligence. He was never the brightest in his class, and honestly, it never bothered him that he wasn’t. Everything he learned came through one ear and left the other. He retained the information for a test but simply forgot everything once it was over. He wasn’t the brightest, and it didn’t bother him not one bit.

What did bother him was his terrible habit of being oblivious towards other people’s feelings. Maybe it was due to his lack of energy or lack of interest, but he simply never put much effort into acknowledging how people felt. Yeah, he got vibes when people had on and off days, his teammates were the twins, you HAD to notice their mood swings and take necessary precautions. It just never occurred to him that more people could enter his bubble. A bubble that revolved around himself.

However, instead of someone finding a way to enter his fragile bubble without popping it, Suna willingly left his bubble when you came into the picture. It was no secret that Suna was whipped the moment his eyes laid on you. He’s been getting clowned about it ever since the twins found out and they never let a day go by without calling him a simp.

He had no clue what type of person you would be when you entered the doors of the Shiratorizawa gym. You looked sweet and bubbly, the smile you came in with never left your face unless you’d whine to your friends or roll your eyes at them. When you stepped into the room, people just naturally gravitated towards your positive energy and your good vibe. He liked that about you. Then again he still didn’t know anything about you at the time. All he knew was that you managed to attract his attention without even directly giving any to him. Every time he tried to look away and focus on whatever was happening in front of him, his eyes trailed back to you.

For a while after camp, you kept popping back in and out of his mind. It was quite ridiculous actually. He’d be taking a drink by the water fountains and he’d look over to the hallway and suddenly the first thoughts would be ‘what if I saw the redhead again?’ It never lasted long, maybe for a split second or two before he snapped himself out of it. He’d never see you again, what was he talking about? He was just being delusional.

So you could imagine the way his mind stopped functioning the night at the train station. Suna had to pinch himself 8 times when he saw you walk out of the train doors. ‘No way’ he thought. You, out of the 7 billion people in the world, was Kita’s cousin. He remembers seeing your tired face and your short stature clad in a big hoodie and loose sweatpants with your hair tied up. You were supposed to look like a mess, why did he keep thinking that you looked so pretty? This must’ve been the higher power playing a trick on him for slacking off during practice. So annoying.

Suna could keep his cool around school. You weren’t in the same classes meaning he didn’t see you at all. So you could imagine the kind of panic that crossed his mind when Kita told the team that he’d have his cousin staying in the gym. He learned later on that you started watching practices because Kita didn’t feel comfortable with you walking home. You were nice to the team, incredibly nice actually. Your easy-going nature made it easy for you to have a couple of conversations with his teammates here and there. While you were nice to Aran and Akagi, you had a little feisty attitude with the twins (mainly Atsumu) and he couldn’t help but admire how outspoken you were. You were blunt, to say the least. That was something you and Kita had in common. But he liked that about you, how you were always free to speak whatever was on your mind and keep a conversation going. 

Suna noticed early on that you rarely paid attention to their practice. He figured volleyball just wasn’t your thing and he couldn’t blame you for that. During water breaks, he’d glance up and watch you tuck back your hair and sometimes he’d catch you scratching your temple in annoyance because of some question you couldn’t answer on your homework. You never looked up, simply unphased by whatever was happening in front of you. 

Even so, he still put the smallest amount of extra effort into his practices. Jumping a bit higher and running a bit faster and spiking the ball with more force. He insisted that it was about time he would break some of his bad habits, but even the team knew that it was a sorry excuse. Truth be told, a little part of him was just hoping that if you ever looked up from your phone or your work in your lap, you’d see him and think that he looked at least a little bit cool. 

One day, on the rare occasion that he’d be listening in class, he remembers his teacher having a discussion with the class about an epiphany. 

The feeling of a sudden or striking realization that hits an individual out of nowhere.

It was late at night where Suna hit an epiphany. You were off to Miyagi, spending your weekend with your best friend and the Twins continued to bug him about his little first-year crush even though he had asked them multiple times to drop the topic. 

Suna came to the conclusion that he liked the way you made him feel. He liked the way he felt at ease when you were around him. He liked how you were so different compared to him, but it never stopped you from forming a friendship with him. You never pushed him to ever open up to you, you listened to the bare minimum he had to say and never took his lazy nature and blunt attitude to heart. He liked annoying you, the way your face would scrunch up when he’d take your bento’s the first couple times during your first initial lunch hangouts or the way you’d puff your cheeks when he comments on your height. He liked the way your eyes lit up when the smallest things caught your attention. He took notes on the songs you said you were currently listening too or the ones that reminded you about happy memories. 

Suna especially liked seeing you smile. Especially towards him. Something about it gave him the same feeling that was comparable to the way he would feel when he would see those jelly sticks on sale at the grocery store. The way you’d roll your eyes in playful annoyance when he'd come up to you and ask to bandage his fingers even though you both knew that he was capable of doing it himself. You would tease him, a playful smile gracing upon your lips, telling him that his fingers would probably break off if you weren’t there to bandage them up. Suna liked thinking that having you wrap them up made his hands feel a bit stronger with his blocks. But you didn’t need to know that.

He remembers a specific memory that lives rent-free in his mind. He was walking down the hallway, casually strolling and taking his time to get back to class after using the bathroom and he happened to notice you heaving a tired sigh as you closed the doors to your class. You looked quite frustrated, probably because it was your art class and you had been complaining days earlier about how creatively drained you were.

 Suna must’ve been looking at you for a moment too long because the moment your eyes met, he felt something tug at his chest by the way your eyes sparkled at the sight of him. Despite being under a little bit of stress, the same smile he grew to enjoy seeing made its way onto your lips and you waved to him excitedly before running up and rambling off about how much your class was pissing you off.

You two eventually got in trouble for skipping the whole period after being too caught up in your conversation. Suna thought it was worth it though.

After scrolling through his phone, listening to Atsumu’s obnoxious lovey-dovey playlist, and inevitably searching “how to know if you like or like like a girl” (there's a difference, he swears) on google. 

He came to his epiphany.

 Maybe before, when he barely knew you and you never knew him, maybe he was just infatuated with the idea of you. 

But it was different now, He liked you.

And that scared him.

It scared him how vulnerable he felt. Suna’s reserved and quiet nature gave him a hard time to open to others. Not that he really cared if he was being honest. He simply had the mindset that no one needed to know everything there was to his existence. Everyone eventually leaves anyways, what was the point?

When it sank into him that he liked you, it confused him endlessly. You never wanted to get out of his head and sooner or later he found himself doing the smallest things for you. The little black silk band was always on his wrist and if it wasn’t on his wrist, it would be tucked away in his pockets. Not to mention that he kept one in his pencil case for good measure. The bandaids inside in his backpack were sealed away in a ziplock bag just in case you ever got hurt because he knew you were a bit clumsy. He found himself keeping his eyes open for little souvenirs and trinkets that looked like something that you’d like wherever he went. 

At first, he thought that he just wanted to upgrade you from friend to best friend. Maybe this was a friendship that he had just been deprived of since his world revolved around constantly meaning to improve in volleyball. Yes, he did find comfort in the friendship he grew with you, but sooner or later he realized that he wanted more. The thoughts of holding your hand slipped into his mind and sooner or later hugging you from behind and resting his head on top yours flowed in followed by taking you back by peppering your smooth and soft cheeks with kisses. That wasn’t something that best friends did.

Kita was right about how his logic of ignoring you to suppress his feelings was stupid and that the worst things that could happen were that he’d get rejected. But he didn’t want to face the chance of him getting rejected, he’d like you for so long and he learned during his time spent away from you that he didn’t want to just stop talking to you. Suna knew himself, if he got rejected then he’d distance himself away from you and never talk to you ever again because the embarrassment would eat him up. 

He didn’t wanna lose you for that. He wasn’t ready. 

What a coward. 

He just really hoped you liked the flowers and read his note, he thought anything was better than a stupid “I’m sorry” text.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 

“Hurry up, I need to lock up the gym” Kita’s voice echoed throughout the walls as he stepped into the changeroom. Suna looked up from his phone, taking one last glance at your ‘see you soon :P’ text before shutting it off and shoving it into his pockets. As everyone began to leave one-by-one and bid their goodbyes to each other and their captain. The twins however didn’t leave until they both gave Suna a teasing punch on both of his shoulders. Suna only glared at them before proceeding to make his exit as well. 

Kita stopped Suna before he could exit and the look on his face seemed rather serious. With his voice low, Kita simply said “She needs to be back by 7. If she comes home hurt in any way, I’m benching you” he said sternly and that was enough for him to feel his skin crawl under his tracksuit jacket. Suna nodded, understanding that he really wasn’t kidding and that he definitely bench him. 

Kita turned around and opened the door for them both to leave the changerooms. They walked together side-by-side and from a distance, he could see your short figure walking up to both of them. You looked different today, your hair was sitting on your shoulders and a pair of gold-rimmed glasses he was yet to see was sitting on the bridge of your nose. You were clad in your uniform with an oversized pink knit cardigan overtop. Was that a new cardigan you were wearing? He’s never seen it before either. 

Kita smiled at the sight of you skipping up to them and he watched you two exchange high fives and he gave you a brief little speech about staying late. You nodded along and Suna stood by and watched Kita ruffle your hair making you whine cutely. 

He wanted to do that.

You waved goodbye to your cousin and Kita looked at Suna and gave him a firm nod before turning back and making his way towards the gym doors. You turned back and faced Suna, your hands behind your back as you made your way towards him with a warm smile. “Hey there” you greeted and stood in front of him, looking up so you could look at him clearly. Suna couldn’t help but look at you weirdly, why were you acting as nothing happened? Shouldn’t you be upset with him? “Hi, let’s go?” god, why was he so forward. 

You hummed and shook your head, making him furrow his eyebrows in confusion, “do you not wanna go anymore? I can drop you off if you want-” You rolled your eyes, “I don’t see you for a week and you’re already trying to get rid of me?” you questioned and narrowed your eyes at him. Suna felt his heart wrench as your lips pouted. 

He shook his head, “n-no” he stuttered. Your eyes perked up and you watch his cheeks heat up (potentially from embarrassment, but you're not going to assume) and look away. 

You chuckled and grabbed his wrist and pulled him to follow behind you. What made you so bold today? Probably from the unexpected pep talk you had with Goshiki that morning.

“You don’t need him Ln-senpai! If he thinks he can just look over you and all your greatness and beauty and not acknowledge how beautiful you are and how your very presence graces this dull world then send his ass to KFC! You are a woman senpai! A beautiful woman who deserves everything. Not a value menu that has a 20% off discount!”

Did his speech make sense? Sure. You’ll take it over Tendou’s “cut his dick off if he does you dirty queen” text message sent with the confetti effect on imessage followed by a bunch of knife emojis that was honestly more threatening rather than comforting.

You pulled him out of the gym and Shin gave you a look before shaking it off and locking up the gym doors. From the corner of your eyes, you could see the twins sending winks your way before snickering and walking off. You rolled your eyes and stopped when you reached the doors of the school. 

You turned around and faced Suna who looked very lost and confused. “Let’s not go to the convenience store today, let’s go somewhere else,” you say. Suna nodded slowly, “okay? Where do you wanna go?” he asked.

Just then, you lifted up your other hand and it was only then that Suna noticed you carrying a small pink lunch tote. You let go of his wrist and tucked some strands your hair behind you ear, “we haven’t had lunch together in a week and you had a meeting today again so we couldn’t do anything today either and well..” you trailed off and looked up at him and shrugged, “I figured we could make up for lost time” you muttered. 

Suna felt his chest tighten, not only because you were absolutely adorable and it was making him lose his mind, but it almost seemed like you were the one trying to apologize to him when you didn’t do anything wrong. He did.

You frowned as you looked at how subtly his face dropped. As upset as you were, you understood that he wasn’t ready to tell you whatever he was meaning to hide. He wasn’t obligated to tell you anything and you understand that. A small smile creeping up on your lips, “let’s go eat at the park near my house. The one we walk by all the time. Saves you the trouble of worrying if you’re gonna get home on time or not” you laughed slightly.

Suna couldn’t say no to you, so here were the two of you now. Eating and sitting in front of the other with the bento’s you had prepared on the table. The park was as busy as it usually would be during the afternoon. The atmosphere felt warm as the sky was slowly settling into hues of orange with peaks of pink seeping through. Suna watched you happily eat the bento you had prepared and listened attentively as you told him about everything he missed during your week and you did the same when he talked about his. 

A part of him couldn’t help but admire how pretty you looked in front of him. Suna was lying when he told the twins that you were a 7. You were beyond a 7 and beyond whatever scale they had given him. It was a rare sight to see you with your glasses and partnered with that oversized pink cardigan? You were adorable. 

You tilted looked up from your food and stopped mid-sentence when you saw him just look at you with what seemed to be a fond look in his eyes. But you could’ve just been mistaken, maybe you need to have your prescription checked again. “Rin, what’s wrong?” you asked. At the sound of his name, Suna blinked snapped back into reality and was met with your concerned look. “W-what?” You chuckled, “you zoned out Rin, everything okay?” you asked.

Rin.

He liked the way his name rolled off your lips. 

He shook his head, “I’m fine, sorry. This is really good by the way, I didn’t think you could cook” he said as an attempt to change the subject. You rolled your eyes but you looked away. “As much as I want you to believe I’m some great chef, Granny helped me with most of it” you confessed sheepishly. 

He chuckled and poked the sausage that was cut up into a little octopus with his chopsticks, “Well, you did tell me that you burned rice once so maybe I thought too highly of you to make a full meal” he teased. You scoffed and grabbed his bento, “if you’re not gonna appreciate the chef then you don’t deserve the food” you huffed. Suna rolled his eyes and grabbed yours, “guess I’ll have to eat yours then” he said and shoved some rice into his mouth. Your jaw dropped at his actions, “Hey!”

As the day went on, you both began to feel at ease and comfortable once again with each other's presence. The harmony that flowed around between you two was coming back and was settling into its familiar rhythm. You two continued to chat as if nothing happened. Laughing at anything and everything you found remotely hilarious under the sun. Suna felt warm. He was here, with you, and everything felt okay. With both your bento’s empty and tucked neatly away into your lunch bag and the sun settling down and giving a wake-up call for the stars to come out, it was about time for Suna to bring you home.

The walk back to your place was comfortable. There was no tension in the air or any awkwardness in the atmosphere. It was simply peaceful. You were walking beside him and rambling on about something that had happened to you in class that day. It was slightly cooler and the winds were colder and he had noticed early on that you kept pulling at the ends of your cardigan at an attempt to get some more warmth from it. It would’ve just been rude for him to let you be cold, Kita would kill him if you got sick.

It took you by surprise to see Suna slipping off his volleyball jacket and shoving it into your hands. He was wearing a hoodie under it anyway, he didn’t mind. A part of him was just curious about how his jacket would fit you too and what kind of fool would you be to reject an oversized jacket? It was just extra points that happened to be from the boy that you liked.

Suna nodded along to what you were saying, but he couldn’t help the sudden urge to just grab your hand out of his system. You were walking so close to each other. Your shoulders kept brushing past and your hands were right there. 

But with the events that happened this past weekend, he didn’t wanna overstep any boundaries. He was still too cautious that he would mess up and make you upset all over again. With the thought of his actions, Suna suddenly felt a little ball of guilt eat him up. He never stopped feeling bad about what he did. Kita’s words rang through his head, he needed to learn how to communicate better and not deal with everything all on his own. Maybe he really was a coward for letting such a dumb fear eat him up.

In the midst of your talk about how much you despise your math class, you turned to look at Suna and saw how troubled he looked. He didn’t even look like he was listening anymore and seemed to be having some sort of internal battle with himself. 

You furrowed your eyebrows and grabbed his wrist to stop walking. “Rin, what’s wrong?” you asked, concern lacing the tone of your voice. You both never really brought up what had happened. Maybe you were just too caught up in having a good time but you were honestly content with the reasons he gave you. If he wasn’t ready then he wasn’t ready. 

Suna however felt like he owed you so much more than his apology that he already struggled to explain. 

Suna stared down at you for a moment, the unreadable expression on his face that only made you more confused. It was quiet for a moment, the only sound to be heard was the wind blowing by and the trees rustling.

Nothing would have prepared you for the way he turned around and pulled the arm that was holding his wrist and pulling you into his chest. His hands wrapped around your shoulders as he held you just a little bit tighter. He was a bit stiff, but you couldn’t put that against. He wasn’t the type of person to initiate things like this.

“I’m sorry”

Your body froze, something about his tone was different. It was vulnerable.

You stayed quiet, letting yourself relax slowly in his hold.

“F-fuck, I’m really sorry. I said I wasn’t good with words right? S-so I’m trying to explain now because you deserve it but I don’t even know why I did it. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to make you upset at all, I was just caught up with myself and I didn’t consider what I was doing to you. You didn’t deserve that. I like being around you and I’m sorry” He pulled away and one of his hands dropped to your waist and fiddled with the material of his jacket. You watched as his free hand dug deep into his pockets and you watched him pull something out. 

“It’s kind of pathetic if you ask me and it’s also kind of ugly but-” he grabbed one of your arms and dropped the object into the palms of your hands. Your eyes widened at the little paper craft,

It was an origami strawberry.

It was small, it fit perfectly inside on the palms of your hand. You could see that he struggled with making it. The leaves were slightly bent and the tip of the strawberry was ripping off. There were lots of creases all in the wrong places and even the seeds were drawn on. 

But it still melted your heart. 

“I read somewhere about 1000 paper cranes for a wish and well, cranes are kind of hard and I didn’t have enough paper to make 1000 and-god this is so embarrassing-” he muttered the last part but gained enough courage to look up at you and meet your eyes. Your eyes were soft and patient. “I wished that you wouldn’t hate me. Or that, this wouldn’t y’know...make everything all weird between us. I like you-or well uh- being around you at least and I-I know you joke about it all the time but please don't-” 

Suna paused when he felt you wrap your arms around his waist once again, hugging him back but just a little bit tighter. The small confession not even going through your mind because your attention was too focused on the way his words were making you melt. 

“You’re an idiot” you mumbled into his chest and hugged him a bit tighter. Your words made his stomach drop, but that feeling went away when you pulled back and looked at him with a smile. A smile that said you understood. 

“I’m never gonna force you to tell me anything you don’t want to tell me” You repeated but this time it felt different, it felt warmer. 

“I’m never gonna hate you. I know how you are Rin, you’re not good with your words and I get that. You could've sent me a text but you didn’t. You went out of your way with the flowers and even the little note and this adorable fucking strawberry is more than enough” you laughed but you could feel your eyes watering up slightly with the overwhelming amount of emotions you were feeling all at once. “You don’t need to keep apologizing to me okay? I understand. Thank you,” you smiled. Suna stared down at you. Nodding slowly and you chuckled and fell into his arms once again.

This time, he was the one who held you a bit tighter.

“This side of you is cute you know, but It’s kinda ruining your whole tsundere image you’re going for. Bet the twins would make fun of you for being this thoughtful” you whispered jokingly, making him roll his eyes and huff a quiet “shut up” in annoyance. If only you knew the pain he endured for putting up with those twins. 

You both stayed like that for a little while longer. Holding each other and fitting so perfectly in the arms of the other. If it wasn’t for your phone dinging from a text from Shin asking where you were, Suna swore he would have held you there for the whole night. 

You pulled away first and tugged his hand, “come on, Shin wants me home now so let’s get going ‘kay? Don’t want you getting benched the whole season now do we?” you grinned and walked in front of him and tugged him along. 

Somehow in some way, your fingers slipped perfectly into his.

Suna could only feel the warmth rising in his chest, his daze fixed at the sight of his hands interlocked with yours. 

“Oh and Rin” you called out, making him snap back into reality.

Suna hummed, looking right back at you.

“Tell me when you’re ready, okay?”

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 

“Text me when you get up in your room safe”

You turned around to him with a quizzical expression before letting out a chuckle, “I’m in front of my house Rin, I got here in one piece” you said and motioned your free hand towards yourself to prove that you were indeed, uninjured. Suna rolled his eyes and bit the inside of his cheek, “you’re clumsy remember, you might fall or something” he muttered and looked away.

You grinned and squeezed his hand, “Awe, look at you caring for me and my wellbeing. My ears might be deceiving me but it sounds like you’re in love with me” you teased and swung your hands together back and forth.

Suna huffed, his mind not properly functioning when the words fell out of his mouth.

“yeah probably”

Simultaneously, his eyes and yours widened and you both froze. 

Both you and Suna blinked at each other twice. Your eyes looked down at your hands that were still interlocked and looked up at his face that was fully drained of any colour. Your heart was beating rapidly against your chest and Suna began to question the very point of his existence.

“W-what?”

“Uh-”

“Y-you said-”

“A-ah I-”

“Oi!” you both jumped and instinctively Suna pulled you closer to him. You looked at up him briefly before turning around to see Granny waiting by the gate with an impatient but also teasing glint in her eyes. “It’s almost 7:30 Yn-chan! You almost missed bingo night! Kiss ya little friend goodnight and come in before Shin and I eat all the mochi we left for ya” she called out but you could hear the teasing tone in her voice.

“C-coming!” you yelled back. Your face was piping hot and you wanted the ground to swallow you whole from the amount of embarrassment and flusteration you were feeling at that moment. 

Granny nodded and walked back inside, and looked up at Shin who was standing with his arms crossed on the porch. Granny walked back to him with a victorious smile on her lips as she gave him a thumbs up. Granny knew what she was doing and she knew what she saw. She’s gonna call and gossip to your mother.

You gulped and took a step back and looked back at Suna. He was still frozen and his mind was racing at what just happened and he too, wanted the ground to swallow him whole. “I-I uh, I guess I gotta go?” you winced, but the tone of your voice made it sound like you were asking a question. Suna nodded, “y-yeah, goodnight I guess” he muttered as he looked away and you watched his face heat up. 

You were both so embarrassed but neither one wanted to let go of the others hand. 

Suna figured he couldn’t keep you out all night and just as he was about to let go of your hand, a sudden wave of confidence went through your veins and you just went ‘fuck it.’

You pulled his arm down towards you taking him back. His eyes widened, “what are you-” you stood slightly on your tippy-toes and kissed his cheek which made him shut up instantly. “That’s for today, thanks. goodbye.” you said frantically. 

Suna froze, too much in shock and his mind was still in the middle of trying to register what just happened and watched as you let go of his hand and covered your face furiously blushing and running off to your gate and slamming it shut.

He stared blankly at the gate door and blinked twice as an attempt to get himself back to reality. He brought his hands up to his cheeks that were on fire. His mind kept replaying the way your soft lips kissed his cheek and could feel the slightest residue of your lip gloss still on his cheek. 

Shit, you really had him wrapped around your finger. 

“Idiot” 

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 

a/n: BYE STOP IM SO SINGLE THIS IS SAD AND I AM DEVASTATED.

taglist! [CLOSED] @chocolaterumble​ @elianetsantana​ @versatilewindow​ @introvertatitsfinest​ @aristatrois​ @mizukisonoda​ @amberisnotcrazy​ @kritiiiii @iloveyouasmuchaspoohloveshoney @a-moon-fairy @akaasht​ @lotusweebs @marvelous-maxi @laughingismorefun @hhmnvm @sweetyrina @honeydrip @miracleboy420 @rachelexe @charsdummb​ @sxrcasticbacon @loser-keiji @dinablossom @ntimacy @kac-chowsballs@unhappyraspberry @sbaepsae @doebopeepeebbod @missalienqueen @ssuna @violenthead @unstableye @tycrackculture @a-applepi @lollyzen @aisawa-reo @ashybitch89 @sunflowerirl @sapphicstarss @melodiamore​ @valrubiii @urbasicaveragegirl @mint-mai @4kaashl @sugawsites @anngelllla @applekenm @bumblebeesofspace @dreamstormings @milkingkageyama @tsumu-core @luvelyxp @aquariarose

[joyfulhopelox]

"I've never cried over a broken dryer before"-"And you better not start now"

Part 1 Part 2

Pairing: Jungkook x reader (College!AU/ University!AU)

Genre: smut with a saltbae of fluff

Warnings: alcohol use, oral sex (f receiving), fingering, dirty talk, swearing, bit of dom! JK, biting

Summary: Upon entering the club you come across a familiar face. Turns out your laundry adventures were not over. Who knew that clean laundry could lead to dirty talk?

Word count: 6.5k

rating : 18+

A/N: Massive thank you to @bangtanhome for not only being my beta but also my support and making this whole thing a polished princess. Thank you Moon so much for taking the time to edit and thank you for listening to me whilst I complained about this. And most importantly massive thank you for giving me pointers. This is my first piece of nsfw writing and I was extremely unsure about putting it out there but you’ve literally been an angel and were patient with my unsure self whilst also making sure you made this readable <3 -I also would like to thank my soulmate and best friend for putting up with me and dying in the process of reading a fic about her bias. I will warn that i massively sleep deprived at this point but i wanted to get this out with the occasion of the Muster 2021 so here she is!

Copyrights @joyfulhopelox for both the work and the banner

As always please leave feedback and/or talk to me as i love to hear from you! Enjoy <3

Fuck. You’d overslept. You weren’t panicking because you were going to be late; you were normally late anyway. But as soon as your eyes opened, you felt the grogginess that comes with sleeping a bit too much. Your body felt sluggish, joints throbbing and your mouth feeling like you've stuffed cotton balls in it. Feeling like you've been through a survival show, you know it'll take at least an hour for your body to wake up properly. However, you didn’t have time to let yourself slowly come to. You were already late. Any later than this and you may just as well stay home for the night- and go back to sleep. You reveled in the thought for a second, but no. Your friends were impatiently waiting for you to go out clubbing with them. And most importantly to lend them your car. You knew that only because they have called and messaged you incessantly for the past hour reminding you of it. You were thankful at least that you were not the designated driver for the night. Normally you’d draw straws and this time you had got lucky, you could drink as much as you wanted.

‘Good lord Y/N get your ass out of bed,’ you hyped yourself up and just like a bandaid, you ripped yourself from your covers and rolled out of bed. Landing with a thud you groaned upon impact. That was going to leave a bruise.

After a quick shower to get the cobwebs cleared off your mind, you put on a dress. You didn’t wear dresses normally, your wardrobe consisted mostly of pants and various tops. To be tightly encased in a dress that was a bit too short for comfort made you feel uncomfortable, but you knew that as soon as you had some alcohol into you, things would change. A loud knock at your door told you that your friends had finally arrived so you hurriedly grabbed your purse and keys and were out the door. You hesitated for a moment, the feeling of having forgotten something weighing on your mind. When you couldn’t figure out what it was, you decided that it must not be important. Plus, your friends were waiting; time to get the show on the road.

As soon as you entered the club, the heavy smell of smoke, sweat and alcohol hit your sensitive nose. The atmosphere was too loud and obnoxious for your sober brain. To remedy that, your friends decided to stop by the bar first and buy a round of shots to get the night started. With the burn of the alcohol running down your throat, your confidence levels increased. The dress didn’t make you feel uncomfortable anymore, instead you prowled around, your hips moving to the beat. You were aware of the lustful stares that you were receiving and you thrived off of it. Tonight you were on the hunt, ready to let loose after the stressful week full of exams.

“Hey, Y/N. Muscle at 12 o’clock has been giving you the look more than a couple of times,” your friend leaned in to make themselves heard over the loud music. “Try not to be obvious, but I'd say he’s a 10.” You nodded in acknowledgment running a finger over the rim of your glass.

“He’s looking away now, look look,” they nudged you, forcing you to turn around. In all honesty, you weren’t interested in going home with anyone. You were simply enjoying the admirative stares and the smouldering gazes that were thrown your way, but you had no intention to take any of them home with you. However, when you turned around, you were faced with the impossible task of reconsidering. The back of the man your friends' pointed out was indeed muscular, broad and strong, you could see the muscles popping underneath the black shirt he wore. The sleeves of the shirt were pushed up to his elbows, allowing a full display of tattoos on his right arm.

Normally you would have second thoughts about a person like that, but there was something about his demeanour that drew you in even without seeing his face.

The handsome man motioned to one of his friends and his whole body shook with laughter. Observing the way the shirt strained against his muscles you licked your lips involuntarily. For a second you thought he looked strangely familiar, and before you could convince yourself you were being paranoid, he turned his head to the side to entertain the person to his right.

The messy mop of hair, defined jawline and that bridge of the nose they all belonged to the laundry boy - Jungkook. You smirked, “I’d give it a 15 actually”. As soon as you said that, he threw you a glance, his smile wavered as he made eye contact. You felt satisfied at the recognition in his eyes.

You slowly turned back to your friends, certain he would come to you. It took him the entirety of the time you took to finish your drink to make his way towards you.

“Don’t look, he’s coming.”

“Oh, he will be,” you smirked, eyes twinkled with excitement as your friends laughed at your slurring words.

Jungkook had noticed your enticing figure entering the club from the very beginning. It was as if a magnet pulled him towards you. He recognised you as soon as he laid eyes on you. How could he not? The cute girl from the laundry room in the daylight turned into an alluring vixen during nighttime. His eyes were drawn to your hips, the curve of your back and the tempting strip of skin he could spy; they were enticing to him. He tried his best to focus on the way your eyes sparkled in delight when one of your friends would make a joke, but when you ran a finger over the rim of your glass tracing delicate patterns, he felt your siren pull.

You smelt him before you felt him, the subtle vanilla enveloping your senses overpowering the scent of sweat from around you. He stopped right behind you, with one hand on the stool next to you; not completely encasing your form, but close enough that you could see his jawline in your periphery. Leaning in under the guise of ordering a drink from the bartender he pulled the stool and sat down. He didn’t address you at first, patiently waiting for his drink, his long fingers tapping the counter in rhythm with the beat. You tried your hardest not to stare at his hands, the art on them fascinating to you: the doodle style art accentuating his knuckles and the veins running tracing all the way up to where his skin hid beneath his shirt. You tried to keep a poised front, talking to your friends as if he was not there, but you could feel the heat of his stares from time to time, goosebumps forming on your skin.

You knew your friends were getting drunker and drunker as time passed, but you’d underestimated them. Soon enough they each scattered around the surface of the club looking for a dance partner. Your friend left you in charge of the drinks they ordered, winking at you suggestively as they left. That meant you were alone. And judging by the way your skin prickled, Jungkook was still seated next to you.

“A gin and tonic, please,” he ordered another drink. You realised now would be the perfect time to not only talk to him, but also repay him for earlier. As the bartender presented him with the bill you turned around and smoothly presented your card to him. “Make it two on the same tab.” you smirk, winking at Jungkook when your eyes met his.

You heard Jungkook laugh at your brazen attitude and you had to admit to yourself, if not for the alcohol you’d had earlier, you would’ve probably walked away. You made direct eye contact with him and smiled.

“Nice to see you again, laundry boy,” you smirked. Jungkook looked taken aback for a second. The image of you in the laundry room is completely erased. What he saw in front of him now was an alluring woman, sure of herself and what she wanted. And she made it clear that she wanted him. Hiding a smirk behind his hand he leans closer to you, his breath fanning the hair stuck at the nape of your neck.

“It’s Jungkook, not 'laundry boy',” he yells over the music. Your shoulders shake with laughter.

“I know, but it is fun to tease you - Jungkook.” He smiled at you, his eyes crinkling in delight. He's caught onto what you were doing and he was ready for it, two could play at this game.

“What’s your name?” You were half expecting him to pull a bad pick up line, the earlier impression that you had of him still engraved into your mind. When he didn't, you smiled, hiding your satisfaction. Maybe he really was worth a 15 and not a 10.

“What, no ‘I didn’t catch it’? No ‘I bet it hurt’? I’m offended, do I not deserve a bad pick up line?” you grinned at him and he burst out laughing, the sound reverberating through you making a shiver run down your spine.

“You got the drinks, pretty girl, there’s no way I can use a pick up line now,” you started laughing earnestly. He was definitely not what you had expected. The muscly tattooed facade was clearly done just for the purpose of aesthetics, and not because he slotted right in with the rest of the douches.

“Fair play, but I did say I was going to pay you back earlier,” you gesture with your head as if to point out which earlier moment you meant.

“I see. This is how you intended to keep your word then” Jungkook said just as the bartender places the drinks in front of you both handing him something. “But as it happens, I am a step ahead of you” he waved a card in front of you. His satisfied smirk made you pause flustered. Realising he’s already given his card to the bartender earlier you blushed.

“That’s not fair, laundry boy” you pout. “Now I have to find another way to repay you” you fumbled with the card the bartender handed over to you struggling to place it back in your clutch.

“I am sure we can find other ways” you paused looking at him. Under normal circumstances you would have found that to be incredibly off putting, but noticing the way he scrutinised you so intensely, no hidden message behind his smoldering gaze you squeezed your thighs together a wave of heat enveloping you.

You took a sip of your drink to mask the deepening blush and cleared your throat. You knew that if you gave him your name you were in for the ride. “It’s Y/N” you took another sip, savouring the taste of the alcohol.

“What?” Jungkook wasn’t expecting you to hand him your name so freely.

“It’s Y/N” you yelled louder and leaned into him thinking he hadn’t heard you because of the music. The waft of your perfume clouds his senses, the smell of cotton and lilac enveloping him. Needing to be closer to you he chanced it and asked you for a dance.

You finished your drink with a gulp and nodded your head. You grabbed his wrist and started making your way through the mob of people. Jungkook couldn’t help but stare at the way your hips swayed to the beat and when you threw him an alluring look over your shoulder he couldn’t help but be lost. He felt like a puppy following your sultry form through the crowd.

You finally stopped in the middle of the dancefloor, your moves more accentuated following the beat of the music. Jungkook stopped a few inches away from you, unsure whether or not he should place his arms around you yet.

You stepped closer to his body, your movement predatory. “Come on laundry boy, you can do better than that. Think of this as part of the payment” you winked at him. You could see the shift in his eyes, a flash of something heavy across his face, his demeanour changing in an instant from uncertain to commanding in a second. He gripped your waist tightly and pulled you flush against him moving along with the beat.

For a second all you could feel and smell was him. His domineering attitude instantly turned you on with the silent promise behind it. “Oh, this is just the beginning” he moved his hands so that his arms encased your waist intending to savour the feeling of you against him. Fully intending to see where this night ended you hooked your fingers into his belt, your bodies so close together they melded into one.

“Bring it on lover boy.”

The oppressive atmosphere of the club was enough to cloud all your senses. The alcohol running through your veins made you braver than you would have ever been. The smirk Jungkook threw at you was almost tantalising. Inviting you to commit sin. And the thought of tasting his lips and running your hands through his hair whilst his breath fanned over your throat was mouth watering. You’d been skirting around each other for the whole night, laughing, drinking, talking, but most importantly eyeing each other up. The last straw for you was when a rogue drink came flying out of nowhere and drenched the two of you. The liquid mixed with his sweat and snaked its way from his temple down to his jaw. You watched as the drops ran lower and lower as if directing your gaze towards his chest. Swallowing thickly you knew that you were a goner. If he’s ask to fuck you right there on the dance floor, you would surrender instantly.

Smirking at your lust filled expression, Jungkook knew he had you where he wanted. He had been staring at your lips for the whole night, entranced at the way the plumpness was enhanced by the sheen from when you’d run the tip of your tongue over them. He was mesmerised. He could also imagine that tongue running over his- he tried to stop himself there, aware that he’d get hard if he kept going in that direction. He could already feel the strain against his pants.

“Another drink?” he offered, and you shook your head at him. Another drink was definitely not what you wanted. What you wanted was him, to kiss you until your lips were raw and to pound into you senselessly until you could hardly remember your name. Were you drunk enough for this? Probably not, but you did not care for once. You wanted to remember this.

Leaning closer to you with the excuse of the loud music, his breath fanned the nape of your neck and the sensitive shell of your ear, making you shiver. “Then what would you like, love?”

There it was, the thousand dollar question. It was now or never. Taking a deep breath in you looked him straight in the eyes with determination. It made Jungkook shiver. You looked fierce and incredibly alluring. It took all the strength he had in him to not shove you on top of the bar and kiss your brains out. “Tell me?” he coaxed you.

He knew what you wanted. You had been obvious for the whole night. But so had he. Throughout your conversation you were undressing each other with your eyes. You noticed the way he couldn’t keep his eyes away from your ass when you would lean over the bar to ask for one more round of drinks.

Under normal circumstances, that thought would have made you nervous. This time it gave you the courage you needed to let yourself go. To switch from being the player to the one played. And if he was the one doing that, you didn’t mind one bit. “I want you” you bit your lip and looked at him from under your eyelashes. His eyes darkened with lust. Mind clouded with desire, he grabbed your wrist tightly and without a word started making his way through the crowd. The roar of the drunken crowd, the smell of sweat and alcohol, and the feel of sticky bodies bumping into you didn’t matter anymore. All your focus was on the way his back muscles moved with every turn of his body. Suddenly a flash of the same back muscles, naked, moving as he towered over you and thrust his hips into yours made your stomach clench and you could feel your panties getting damp. God you wanted him so badly.

Jungkook could see your wistful lust-filled eyes becoming hazier and he sped up the pace. He finally stopped when he reached an empty corridor near the back exit. He would have liked to have more privacy than that, but something about making you beg for him in a public place made his cock twitch in anticipation. He really needed to get a hold of himself otherwise he’d be done before you’d even started.

He tugged at your wrist and lightly pushed you into the wall, he would have taken things a lot slower but your gaze told him to hurry up and take you then and there. And who was he to deny you?

His eyes raked over your body, and a sigh escaped his lips. “Beautiful”. Even though he craved to taste you, he took a moment to appreciate the way your eyes glistened with passion, your chest heaving along with your breaths and your perfume clouding his senses. He wondered if you tasted as sweet as you smelt.

A fistful of your hair in his hands, he pulled you flush against him, until all you could feel were the hard planes of his chest and his hardened member poking at your abdomen causing you to moan, your panties getting wetter.

You whimpered at the sensation as his fingers gripped the sensitive hairs at the back of your skull, goosebumps forming on your skin in anticipation. Expecting him to attack your mouth with the same hunger that was displayed in his eyes you leaned more into him.

You silently begged him to release the coil that had formed in your stomach but he wanted you to beg. His breath fanned the pieces of hair that fell onto your face. The last rebellious piece of you that refused to fall into his clutches. In a desperate attempt to get him to kiss you, touch you - do something, you grabbed tightly onto his biceps relishing in the feel of the muscle tensing underneath your fingers.

“You’re not playing fair laundry boy,” you huff, feeling frustrated over the lack of contact. His laugh, dark, deep and lascivious sent a shiver down your spine.

“Baby girl, that’s not my name” his free hand clasped onto your waist squeezing hard enough to send a jolt through the pit of your stomach all the way down to your heated core. “Jungkook” you whimper and in a last attempt you hook your leg around his thin waist.

“That’s it baby” he lowered the hand on your waist towards your thigh, his fingers leaving an indentation in the skin. Seizing the opening you started grinding your core onto his thigh trying to relieve the ache. His lips ghost over your neck in a tantalizing way, his tongue sweeping over the nape briefly tasting your saltiness. The sensation of his warm tongue on the exposed area of your neck followed by the coldness from the air makes you moan. You could smell his perfume, combined with the musky scent of his sweat and alcohol made your head swim in delight.

“Jungkook, please” , you exposed your neck to him needing more. Rolling your hips into his thigh you could feel the blood pumping underneath your skin, the pleasure overshadowing any rational thought. The friction between your clit and his pants left you breathless, the coil in your stomach getting tighter and tighter ready to unfurl. All of a sudden Jungkook stepped a few inches away, and you lost contact with his leg. Robbed of your release, you instantly whine.

“Mmmm, I can't have you cum on my leg, as much as I would like to see you ride it out on your own. I need to taste you.” he demanded. The hand still supporting your leg inched closer and closer to your dripping cunt. Slipping a cold hand under the hem of your dress his fingers made contact with your heated core causing you to jerk. You yelped, your hips bucking into his hand. Your hands latched tightly onto his shoulders, your fingers digging into them in an attempt to steady yourself. He cupped you through your panties, the heel of his palm pressing into you. Muffling a moan into his shoulder you begged him to touch you more, but he retracted it away from your tender flesh.

“Nuh-uh not yet.” The hand pinched your thigh and you tried not to cry at the feelings bubbling up inside you. You were frustrated and horny, and his taunts were enough to make you crave for more.

“Laundry boy” you warn, staring him dead in the eye.

“Y/N, what did I say about my name” he pulled at the hair he still gripped tightly in his hand. Cradling you close to him he bucks his knee into your core, this time freely offering the friction that you had been yearning for. You whined, the lewd sound echoing in his ear. Your clit on fire, you pressed yourself more into his knee.

“That’s it, moan for me with those pretty lips” gaining a bit of self control you decided it was time for you to step up your game.

“Do you not want to see what else these pretty lips can do?” you licked your lips, your heart racing. Your hooded eyes suggested more than Jungkook would have expected from you.

“Dirty girl” biting his lip before he crashed them onto yours, the contact making your lips smack and your teeth clash. Neither of you care as your tongues intertwine, carrying the battle that your hips are craving. The friction between you caused your whole body to heat up, your senses heightened. You could feel every bit of him against you. The way one hand gripped your thigh and the other pulled at the sensitive hairs at the nape of your neck, the way his tongue roughly caressed yours. He was intoxicating. In the heat of the moment he roughly pushed you into the wall behind you, the force causing you to moan into his mouth.

Jungkook was at the end of his wits, he had to have you now. He needed to taste you, see you unfurl in front of him as he eats you out. Breaking the kiss, your mouth sore, he observed the way your pants made your chest rise up and down, pushing your breasts into him.

Without a word, he attacked your mouth once again for a brief second before he trailed down your jaw to your neck, nipping the sensitive skin in the process. The hand on your thigh reached once more underneath the hem of your dress, this time making its way fully and cupping your dripping core. At the touch of his hand on your sensitive clit your knees buckled and you let your weight onto him, your forehead dropping onto his shoulder for support. You tried to suppress a moan.

“Let it all out baby” his mouth at the shell of your ear, the tip of his tongue trailing the delicate flesh there. “You’re so wet” he moans, “I can't wait to taste you.” His finger dipped under the band of your panties trailing over your center. “So soft” - he sucked your earlobe into his mouth and gave it a small bite - "so wet for me”

This time you couldn’t hold back your moan. The feel of his finger pressed into your folds, parting them and exposing your clit to his ministrations had you squirming. The tip of his finger started drumming in a rhythmic steady fashion on your engorged button. The feel of his lips caressing the sore earlobe relieving the sting from the bite is too much for you. “Jungkook please, I need..” your moans getting louder and louder as the pad of his finger presses harder in an unrelenting tempo.

The hand holding your neck slowly inched towards the swell of your breasts, picking the flesh there until it turned sore. His fingers still attached to your sensitive bud he suddenly drops on his knees in front of you. With his support now gone you try to grip uselessly at the wall behind you. He slots himself between your legs, forcing them to spread open. As he raised the hem of your dress and pushed your panties to the side you couldn’t help but look down. The sight of him between your legs glancing up at you made your knees buckle. With one hand tracing your folds and the other gripping your hip tightly to hold you in place he gives you an uncertain look. “Is this ok Y/N?” his concern for your approval makes your heart melt, but you were too high strung to think about that. You wanted him, and you wanted him now.

“Please” you moan in approval.

With your approval he dived right in, too hungry for your taste. Parting your folds with his fingers he starts by giving you a tentative lick. Being sensitive from his fingers you writhe, your hands desperately clutching at the wall behind you. Savouring the first taste of you he thrums with his finger at your clit. You arched your back, your hands giving up on trying to hold onto the wall. Instead they found their way into his hair, fingers gripping tightly.

Diving back in Jungkook starts lapping earnestly at your folds, his finger still applying pressure onto your sensitive nub. Bucking into his face you suppress a moan. The sensation of his wet tongue prodding at your entrance is too much to take and your knees buckle. Jungkook sensed the shift in your weight and quickly grabbed a hold of your leg, hoisting it over his shoulder. The hand attached to your clit now tightly gripped your calf. The change in position offered the extra support you needed to not fall over.

With your entrance now completely opened to him his tongue started rapidly tracing your folds, only stopping to suck on your clit.

“Jungkook” the overstimulation from his tongue lapping up your wetness and his teeth nipping at the sensitive cluster of nerves is too much to handle, you can feel yourself take over, and Jungkook is more than happy to let you go at your own pace. Grinding over his face, your hands still gripping at his hair, you ride his tongue at your own pace desperate to reach your climax.

You can feel it, you are so close to release you could almost taste it.

Suddenly he entered a finger, knuckle deep into you pumping in and out quickly. Letting your calf go but making sure he is still supporting your weight with his body he leaves you sensitive nub alone and traces kisses along your inner thigh, up to your navel. The dress now obscuring other parts of you he gets up, his finger still deep in you, drawing pleasurable mewls out of your mouth.

“That’s it baby girl, tell me what you need” he is panting in your ear now. With the taste of you still lingering on his tongue and the sight of you coming undone from his ministrations makes him harder than he’s ever been. He felt uncomfortable under the constraints of his pants, the zip digging painfully.

“I need you to fuck me” you finally moan, your hips grinding against him chasing for that sweet release.

“I need you to come for me first baby, I need to see your pretty face when you cum all over my fingers” swiftly he changes fingers, his thumb now drumming at your sensitive clit. You gasp as a finger teases your entrance for a brief second before it penetrates your pussy.

The loud sounds coming from the club were not enough to drown out the lewd sounds that your wet pussy was making whilst Jungkook’s finger pistoned into you. The shot fire along with the shameless sounds you were making were enough to make the tight coil in your belly unfurl. With a deep loud moan you bit Jungkook’s shoulder in an attempt to muffle the yell that was threatening to spill out of your lips. Your muscles clenching in tandem with your core. Jungkook felt your cunt clamping his fingers tightly and a low grunt escaped past his lips. He could almost imagine how wet and tight you would be around him.

“That’s it beautiful, let go”

Your hips carried on buckling, chasing the high and wishing it would not stop. Jungkook took his time observing how your head fell down and your mouth opened slightly in a silent satisfied scream, how your eyes scrunched up as if you were trying to cut off all your senses apart from the feeling of his fingers in you. You were beautiful. When at last your muscles relaxed and your high subsided a low sigh fell out of your lips. It has been a long time since someone has made you cum like that with just their fingers. Jungkook’s finger still lazily traced your clit, the overstimulation too much for you to handle.

“Jungkook '' you whined trying to back away from him but the tight grip on your waist wasn’t allowing you to move more than a few inches away. Without a word Jungkook pulled his hand out of your panties and let go of you. Your knees still weak from your climax you struggle to stand up right and you end up having to lean into him slightly for support. The sight of him licking his fingers coated in your juices sets you on fire once more.

“You’re beautiful when you cum Y/N.” Somehow, his words made you blush. The lewd act that you both partook in had failed to make you blush, instead what made you self conscious was the way he gazed at you. It was softer and more intense and it made your stomach clench once more. If not for the obscene act in the deserted corridor of a club, you might’ve actually entertained the idea that he cared.

You smiled shyly at him and in that moment he was swept away by the warmth expanding from his chest. You were indeed beautiful. And witty, and smart, and you liked to do your laundry. What more could he want? Cupping your face, he kissed you once more, slowly and with purpose. You gasped, you were not used to this gentle Jungkook. Taking the opportunity to pull you closer once more, his tongue mapped every inch of your mouth.

“Fuck me now please” you whisper against his lips. Your hand on his belt moved slowly over the bulge in his pants. He bucked into your touch at the feel of your fingers wrapping around him as much as you could with his pants still on.

“Y/N” he warns. If you carried on that way he would definitely come in his pants. Rubbing him slowly, you could feel his member harden even more under your touch.

“Is it uncomfortable babe?” you whisper in his ear. “How about I return the favour?” you unzip his pants prepared to lower yourself to the floor but he grabs your shoulders keeping you in place.

As much as he would have liked to feel those soft lips around him, he knew that if anyone were to bump into you two, it would not be good. The club was full of students going to the same university as you. If they were to find you on your knees blowing him it would instantly kill your reputation. He did not want that to happen.

“Not here” he zips his pants back up and grabs your hand gently. After all that had transpired between you this soft almost domestic treatment is not what you were expecting. Once again the warm feeling in your heart returned, and this time you were a bit more sober. He was cute, and somehow you found his duality endearing. He returned to being laundry boy Jungkook instead of the dominant Jungkook you’ve just witnessed.

You walked through the club, his hand still gripping you tightly as if he was afraid he’ll lose you in the crowd. Once you reached the outside you took a deep breath in relishing in the way the fresh air soothed your heated skin. Glancing up at Jungkook you noticed he was on his phone texting someone.

“I am texting my friends to let them know I have left,” he explained, putting his phone back in his pocket, smiling at you. The contrast of his lust-filled gaze from before and his gleeful smile almost gave you a whiplash. He was such a contradiction that you couldn’t help but be intrigued by him.

“And I ordered an Uber” as soon as he’d said that a car pulled over right in front of you. The ride back to the campus was a quiet one. It wasn’t an uncomfortable quietness though, having chatted about anything and everything in the club you were content to just put your thoughts in order. You noticed that he had not let go of your hand once during that time but with his gaze out the window, his face thoughtful you could not bear to say anything. Plus, you were enjoying the feel of his smooth hands holding yours.

As the car pulled up in front of the dorm you both shared a glance, an understanding passing in between the two of you.

Once inside the fire inside you sparked up again. Grabbing at each other, your mouths hungrily clashing, you stumbled all the way to the elevator. It was late enough that no one would see you two messily making your way to your room. As soon as you entered the lift and separated to press the correct button you finally remembered what you’d forgotten. If you were a bit more sober you would have laughed at the hilarity of the situation.

Your face fell. “The laundry” you whined in distress. Jungkook’s mouth fell. He threw you a panicked look thinking that you’d changed your mind. One glance at you was enough to tell him that you were panicking in earnest.

“What happened to the laundry?” his hand hovering over the lift buttons unsure of what to do.

“I forgot to put the laundry in the dryer!” you looked at him with such drunken despair he had to hold his laughter in. He did not want to offend you by laughing in your face. You were sober enough to not slur your words, but clearly not sober enough to process your own feelings.

“Let's get that done then.” He decided that as much as he liked your witty self, as well as you in the throes of passion, he adored this side of you too; your guard down, emotions on display. It made his heart swell thinking that you were entrusting him with your vulnerabilities.

You rushed ahead of him entering the laundry room, not paying attention to anything but the lone machine still loaded with your clothes. You quickly opened it, the smell of clean cotton wafting around you.

“Let me help.” Jungkook grabbed the pile of clothes you were holding and moved them into the dryer next to him. As soon as everything was loaded in you turned to smile at him. The panic in your eyes now replaced by the same hunger that governed your mind earlier, you grab him forcefully, clashing your mouth against his. Your hips slammed together in an attempt to ride the pleasure from before. Jungkook, not having expected you to be so forceful, moaned into your mouth and instantly hardened against your hip bone. The quiet of the laundry room was filled with the sounds of your pants as you continued to kiss. In the heat of the moment, Jungkook places his hands on your ass, hoisting you up on the laundry machine behind you. The position allowed your hips to align perfectly, the pressure of his dick now directly onto your clit. Before you could go further Jungkook stopped and looked at you.

“You need to start the dryer,” with the last of his restraints he motioned to the still machine. You glare at him, this being the second time he cockblocks you and himself. But his gaze was unwavering. You sighed and leaned away from him, reaching for the top of the dryer as well as you could still atop of the laundry machine. “Whatever you say laundry boy.”

After pressing down on the start button, you’re quick to return to kissing him. But the quietness of the room seemed odd to you. The dryer had not started. Confused, you look at it again, certain that you pressed the right button. Pressing it once more you wait this time. The dryer stayed still.

The chaotic emotions from before enveloped you again and this time you could feel tears threatening to spill from your eyes. “Y/N, what’s wrong?” Jungkook is throwing you a worried look, not having expected the sight of your tears.

“It’s not started! It’s broken!” you exclaim tears pooling barely hanging onto your bottom lashes. You pushed him gently aside and hopped off the laundry machine. “Why has it not started?”

The desperate look you gave him paired with the knowledge that the machine was not doing what you wanted because you had not paid makes him crack and start laughing. You gape at his bunny smile and crinkly eyes offended until the silliness of the situation catches up to you and you can’t help but join.

“I have never cried over a broken dryer before. Or been cockblocked by one” you glance at him, mirth in both your eyes.

“And you better not start now” he warns you jokingly. You stare at each other for a second before you burst out laughing again.

He can’t help but be enamoured by you and your silliness. Even though the night had not gone as you’d both planned. You both crying in laughter over a dryer makes him think that maybe there was something more there than a one night stand. And he was more than ready to give it a try.

Main Masterlist

[outofsstyles]

AU | Famous!Reader x Fashion student!Harry

☁️ FIC PAGE ☁️

word count: 22.9k

warnings: explicit language, mentions of alcohol

//

Time, mystical time

Cuttin' me open, then healin' me fine

Were there clues I didn't see?

- Invisible String, Taylor Swift

//

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

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

“Rough day?”

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

“You should’ve taken my umbrella.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m good.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“The Grammys.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Are you going?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Julia…”

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

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

“Why not?”

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

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

“She won’t.”

“You seem very sure of that.”

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

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

“Not everyday.”

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

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

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

//

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I love it.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I don’t—“

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Sure is.”

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

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

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

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

“Nervous?”

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

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

“I guess.”

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

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

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

“I know. I know.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Aya, it’s fine.” You reassure her.

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

“Nothing I’ve never done before.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You sigh. “I know.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Because they call out your name.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Shouldn't you have someone that you could call?

//

Harry’s not having a good day.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Fucking--”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Uh, course, yeah. Styles.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Why does this place have to be so fucking small?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Thank you.”

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

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

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

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

“Oh.”

He clicks his tongue. “Yeah…”

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

Harry nods. “Got a year left, yeah.”

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

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

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

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

Which could explain why he feels this nervous.

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

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

“They’re both creative directors, yeah.”

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m afraid I’m not.”

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

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

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

“The same one, yeah.”

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

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

“Still, that’s…”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

To your relief, he nods. “Sure.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I guess that’s it, yeah.”

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

You shake your head. What is wrong with you?

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

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

“What?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Uhm.., I did, yeah.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You don’t have to talk about it.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I took the tube here.”

“Let me drive you back.”

“You don’t have--”

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

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

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

“Okay, then.”

//

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hi.”

“Are you home right now?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Oh.

You’re drunk.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Because that’s the thing.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’ll be right here!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What?”

“Come join me here.”

“I don’t think it fits us both.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Not really in the mood.” You shrug. “Needed a familiar face, I guess.”

He hums in response. Surely, you’ve got plenty of familiar faces in London, ones that you probably see more often than you’ve ever seen him. Friends. Family. So why was it your first instinct to go to his building? You didn’t even text him after you parted ways after the wedding, he was sure you had even forgotten about him once again.

It’s all much too confusing to him.

“H?” You speak up first, your tone is gentle, even a bit uncertain.

The sound of his nickname falling from your lips causes a stutter on his heartbeat.

“Yeah?”

You’re looking down at your lap, watching the liquid inside your glass twirl as you move it slowly. “Is it… Is it too weird that I came here today?”

Harry shakes his head. “Not weird, no.” He comforts. “Was just surprised, is all.”

“I just-” You sigh, a soft frown set between your brows. “Seeing you again, it was really nice, you know?”

“I do.”

“Really.” You meet his eyes with a nod, trying to show how truthful your words are. “Felt like I could let out a breath I didn’t know I was holding for so long.”

He relaxes his shoulders. “I know.” Harry nods. “Yeah I-- I know what you mean.”

When you speak up again, it’s barely above a whisper. The words so sweet it brings the prettiest butterflies to flutter on his belly. “I missed you.”

Harry’s lips part, he wants to say the words back, he can feel them at the tip of his tongue. Because he’s missed you, too. He’s so sure of it. But nothing comes out, his mind going numb as he blinks at you.

“I’m sorry, this was weird, It’s just--” You shake your head to yourself, letting out a nervous laugh. “What I mean is that… I don’t know, I wish we could’ve still talked, you know? After…”

“Yeah.”

You grin. “At the reception, when we chatted, and you told me all those things you’ve been up to, it just… I don’t know, I just wished I could’ve been there with you.” Your eyes look between his, searching for something he can’t quite put his finger on before you take a breath. “And I don’t mean that, like, in a weird way! But as a friend, you know? Wish I could’ve been there with you.”

He clears his throat, forcing himself to speak. “I didn’t…” He opens his mouth, closing it before finally saying. “I never thought you felt that way.”

“I don’t think I realized how much I needed someone close to me that knows me until I saw you again, really.”The words spill out of your mouth, adorably switching from a gentle tone to a rushed one. “And I mean, I have friends that I love and that I trust but… Having someone that’s like…”

A smirk tugs at his lips. “Normal?”

“Don’t say it like that!” You shove him playfully. “But, yeah, someone that knows me without the lights, and the expensive clothes, and the big houses.” Your lips frown as you shrug.  “That just wouldn’t care if I didn’t have all that, that would still like me regardless.”

“You can still have that.” He tries to reassure you, the confession making him want to comfort you. “It’s not too late.”

Looking down at your lap, he sees your breathing halter for a second. “Have we become strangers?” You meet his gaze, chewing down at your bottom lip. “It’s what I kept thinking after I dropped you off, I don’t think I want you to be a stranger.”

Then, he reaches up, brushing a strand out of your forehead. “I don’t think I want that, either.”

Your smile grows. “It’s settled, then.” You nod. “I’m officially promoting you from distant ex to the close friend position.”

Harry lets out a full laugh. “That’s a very sudden rise of positions.”

“We’ll make it slow, then.” You reason, your words starting to stumble out of your mouth again. “Get to know each other again, we can do it when I’m not drunk inside your bathtub. Do you like coffee now?”

“I do, actually.” He replies with a grin. “Hard not to when you’re a uni student.”

“Lovely! We’ll have a coffee and chat.”

“Sounds great.”

You hold up your almost empty wine glass.“To caffeine and friendship.” Tilting it. “Cheers.”

He lets a moment of silence settle, before smirking down at you. “Now, what you said about the expensive clothes…”

“Oh my god, cut the deal.” Rolling your eyes, you try to make it as if you’re about to get up. “We don’t need to get to know each other again, I can tell you’re still a pest.”

“Don’t know what you mean, pet.” He giggles, brushing his hair off his shoulder in dramatics. “I’ve always been a dream.”

//

A/N: I’ve been so excited to share this one with you all!! Thank you so much for reading it :D I’m so curious to know what you all will think about it so please, if you enjoyed it, reblog it or send some feedback to support!! Also, make sure to check the fic page where I keep all my inspo for Curious Time :)