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nationalharryleague · 3 years

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Two for the Show

Summary: Jeff plans for Harry’s new opening act to be more than that.

Genre: Famous Fake Dating!

Word Count: 17.1k!

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A/N: Hey babes!! This is something I’ve been working on since December now and I’m so fucking proud of it and how it turned out!!! It’s the longest thing I’ve ever written and I’m so so so excited to hear what everyone has to say!! Giant thank you’s go out to the incredible soph (@theharriediaries) and Lu (@meetmymouth) bc this never would have come to fruition without them and their help!! Please let me know what you think!! More of my writing can be found in my masterlist!! Happy reading y’all :)

***

Keeping appearances in the public eye is a delicate balance.

If Y/N was being honest with herself, everything Full Stop Management had ever suggested to her had worked, and very well. When they suggested her music took a more pop direction, they set her up with a team of fantastic producers and her music sales and popularity skyrocketed. And when they set up an appointment with a celebrity stylist to figure out her signature style, it worked; they turned her into the 1970’s inspired goddess she had always dreamed of being. Even the hours of media training that she had been put through worked, helping her learn how to bob and weave even the most intrusive of interview questions.

But this time, she thought they might be going too far.

“Jeff,” she began with a sigh and a doubtful shake of her head, “I don’t know about this one.”

“It’s just a few months before and during the tour,” explained the man sitting across from her at the long conference table. “You’ll be seen in public a few times to drum up publicity for the tour and your album, maybe do an interview or two together, and some light PDA.”

His expression was honest and earnest. In the time he had represented her, he had never done anything to her that didn’t help her succeed. It was not hard for her to believe that he just wanted what was best for her and her career.

But something kept holding her back.

“I just got my heart broken in the most public way,” she said softly, absentmindedly fiddling with the base of her ring finger where an engagement ring once sat. “Isn’t it a little too soon to be seen jumping back into a whirlwind romance?”

“I don’t think so. If anything, it will make James look even worse than he already does after what he did to you.” She had to admit the idea of a little revenge did perk her ears up a bit. “And it doesn’t hurt that Harry is so universally loved and known for being such a good guy.”

That was another reason she was skeptical of this entire plot. This was Harry Styles they were talking about; Harry fucking Styles. She had only met him once or twice while working out details for her to be the opening act for his upcoming tour, but she had been a big fan of his and idolized him since she was a teen. Just meeting him threw her inner 16 year old self for a loop, let alone trying to pretend she was in love with him.

In all honesty, it probably wouldn’t be too hard on her end once she got over being starstruck; she wasn’t so sure she still wasn’t kind of in love with him, or at least the version the public saw.

“Listen,” Jeff began again, his voice taking on a bluntness, “no one cares about the opening act. No one bought tickets to see you; they’re there to see Harry.” His words stung but she knew it was the truth. “But if they think you are a part of Harry’s life, they care about you too. And they will keep on caring about you after they leave the show.” Her apprehensiveness must have been clear on her face when he put on a gentle smile. “He’s a really nice person. I promise.”

“I know,” she breathed, a small pout finding its way to her lips. “Fine,” she conceded after a moment, throwing her hands up in the air dramatically to signal surrender. “I’m in.”

A triumphant grin spread across his face. “Thank you. I’ll go call Harry and tell him you’re down.” She watched as he got up from his chair and came towards her, pressing a brief and friendly kiss to the top of her head. “You won’t regret this, Y/N.”

“I better not, Azoff,” she chuckled while shaking her head slightly.

Soon she was alone in the conference room, basking in the light from the floor to ceiling windows that sat before her.

“What did I just get myself into?” she mumbled quietly to herself.

***

The answer to that question came two weeks later when she was sitting across a table from the Harry Styles at a small outdoor brunch spot in LA. Their meeting place was strategic, a small restaurant, not too flashy so it didn’t look like they were seeking attention, but outdoors where anyone could see. It was only a matter of time before he was recognized, and the sighting was almost guaranteed to be trending on Twitter only minutes later.

She couldn’t say that she wasn’t nervous. The inside of her mouth had been chewed raw and the bags under her eyes showed she had been having trouble sleeping in the nights leading up to their first appearance together. By the end of the day, she would most likely have countless articles written about her and possibly have millions of angry fangirls coming after her; even though their “relationship” wouldn’t be officially confirmed for a few weeks.

If all went to Jeff’s plan, she would become an A-lister overnight.

She stood in front of her closet for over an hour, trying on and taking off outfits before finally settling on her favorite pair of bright red corduroy flares and a crisp white textured halter top. She paired the outfit with a new pair of heeled leather boots. They were a flashy pair that were split down the middle, bright yellow on one side and white with yellow stars on the other, hoping Harry would appreciate the bold colors.

She meticulously did her makeup, sure to match her lipstick color exactly to the shade of her pants; and spent far too long in front of the mirror fussing with her hair, praying it would lay the way she wanted it to.

She knew that she was going to be photographed in some way shape or form, and with the fashion icon himself. She had to look good. He had been on the cover of Vogue for god’s sake.

When she finally arrived at the cafe, Harry sat quietly across from her. He looked casual, or as casual as Harry Styles gets. A yellow t-shirt, that was tight enough to look as if it was painted on, showed off his muscular chest and arms. His iconic tattoos illustrated his arms and she hoped he wouldn’t notice as she covertly tried to examine closely. He uncomfortably ran his palms down the legs of his high waisted denim flares that had been paired with his signature pearl necklace and ratty, but well loved, white vans.

And she couldn’t forget his rings. His signature gold ‘H’ and ‘S’ looked back at her as he gently grasped his flute filled to the brim with a mimosa, bringing it to his pink lips that were surrounded by the short stubble he had been wearing lately.

The pair sat in a slightly awkward silence, both seeming to down their mimosas quickly just because it was something to do with their hands and could occupy their lips so they didn’t have to talk.

To say she was panicking, wouldn’t be too much of an over exaggeration. She was sitting across from one of the world’s biggest stars, and as one of his biggest closeted fans. The things he could do for her career were astronomical and it was hard to ignore that, but she also had a hard time getting over the way his hair seemed to fall into perfect tousled curls and his dreamy green eyes.

She had been in love with him (or at least the idea of him) since she was 16. She couldn’t help it.

But the bottomless mimosas helped to break her anxiety, and apparently his as well, as they both began to feel a slight buzz.

“So how did Jeff end up talking you into this?” Harry eventually broke the silence, the alcohol lowering his naturally shy inhibitions just enough to kick off their conversation.

She let a playful eye roll take over her face before she began. “Oh Jeff,” she said jokingly, letting out a long sigh. “I was convinced somewhere in between ‘it’ll make your ex look bad’ and a stern ‘no one ever cares about the opening act,’” she chuckled, while sarcastically wagging her finger in the air, dramatically re-enacting his scolds.

He sucked in a breath through his teeth, letting out a dramatic ‘ouch.’ “He’s not always gentle, is he?” matching her chuckle.

“He knows where to hit you where it hurts,” she laughed, while nodding in agreement. “How did he convince you?”

“Coincidently, he also took a low blow involving my ex. I believe his words were ‘You wrote an entire album about her and haven’t dated anyone since and it makes you look kind of pathetic.’” He dramatically used air quotes and did his best impression of Jeff’s American accent. She couldn’t hold back the giggles that erupted from her.

“Oh my goodness,” she let out through slightly buzzed giggles, “you definitely win.”

From that point, their conversation began to flow more easily, easing her anxiety as she learned he was generally easy to talk to. He laughed at her jokes, and she laughed at his. He really did have the calming and disarming quality that people always said he had, like could melt down any walls and convince you to be honest with him, even if you didn’t really want to be. She was shocked to find that she wanted him to genuinely be a friend to her so badly. He was just so nice and such a good listener.

Their conversation took a turn when Harry’s super power of knowing when his picture was being taken kicked in. “Give me your hand,” he said to her, diverting from the pleasant conversation they had been having about their families. “Don’t look but there’s someone across the street taking photos of us.”

His instructions brought her back to the reality that they weren’t really friends and that all of this was for show.

She brought her hand up to meet his, strategically resting on the side of the table that faced the street, giving the camera the best view. The cool metal of his hand full of rings felt good against her skin that had been baking in the hot LA sun and he passed his thumb over her knuckles with faux affection.

She couldn’t help but feel a dishonest weight pulling on her heart. She knew everything was going to plan and this was all for the best, but it also felt slightly wrong. She played with her small heart shaped earring to distract herself from the sinking feeling.

“Harry,” she began, knowing the people across the street were out of ear shot. Her voice brought his attention from her hand back up to her eyes. “Does this feel wrong to you at all?”

“How so?”

“It just feels dishonest, like we’re lying to millions of people, our–well, mostly your fans.” She couldn’t help but correct herself.

His eyes softened at her words, like he was taking in the innocence she still held onto after only being in the industry for a short time, compared to his decade in the spotlight.

“I try not to think of it as lying,” he spoke slowly after a moment of thinking. He nodded along softly to punctuate his words. “When you think about all this as lying, it starts to weigh pretty heavy on you as a person. I try to be as honest as possible in my music and daily life, but that’s not always what people want to see. They want a show that will entertain them, and it is our job to give it to them.”

“I see,” she mused.

They sat together for another hour or so, allowing their small mimosa buzz to wear off enough for them to drive the short distances to their homes. The pair eventually found their way back to a comfortable conversation, but Harry’s comment about being in the public eye still weighed on her.

Suddenly, she wasn’t sure if all of this was worth it. Y/N was a master at dodging a question and turning the charm to 10 when it was needed, but she wasn’t a liar and she definitely wasn’t an actress. She hoped she (or Jeff) hadn’t bitten off more than she could chew with all of this.

Harry eventually walked her back to her car that was parked a few blocks away, and while she was sure he was doing it for the cameras, she didn’t doubt that he would have done it even if they weren’t there. He just seemed like that kind of guy to her; caring and trustworthy.

“Thank you for a very nice date, Harry,” she said, winking and chuckling along with the extra emphasis she put on the last word.

“My pleasure,” he smiled down at her. He moved along with her as she walked to the driver's side door, opening it for her like a perfect gentleman. The two stood close, his body hovering over her’s as they stood inside the open door. Her heart rose to her throat as he leaned down to her and pressed a gentle kiss to her burning cheek.

Y/N looked back up at him with rosy cheeks and a tightlipped bashful smile. She watched as he walked backward carefully, taking her hand that had been locked with his until he was too far and let it fall back to her body.

She situated herself in her drivers seat and was ready to leave when she heard a knocking on the passenger side window that startled her. Harry had bent himself over and was motioning for her to roll the window down. When she did, he leaned himself in, an honest look in his eyes.

“Before you go,” he said gently. “A word of advice from someone who had been in the public eye for a long time,” he spoke with a tender yet serious tone, eyes locking with hers. “When you go home today, don’t go on social media. People are mean, and it’s just going to hurt.” She nodded along with his words and watched as he pinched his bottom lip. “And when you inevitably can’t resist, text me if you need to talk about it.”

***

They must have done a good job putting on their show because within an hour of her returning home to her apartment, they were all anyone was talking about. Their names were trending worldwide #1 on Twitter. Streams of Y/N’s debut album were up by 800%, and even Harry’s streams had taken a considerable jump. Y/N had gained 40,ooo new followers and views on every interview she had ever done were steadily rising.

All was going according to Jeff’s plan.

Harry’s words circled her brain for hours. “Don’t go on social media,” she heard him say over and over again as she paced her apartment, only stopping to look at the phone sitting on the kitchen counter every so often.

She had taken a shower, done her hair, tried to watch TV, cooked herself dinner, and even tried to sit down and write a song; it all got her nowhere fast. The unknown was eating at her inside.

Y/N broke when she heard the small ding signaling she had gotten a text message. She had all but sprinted to see who it was, reunited with the outside world through her touch screen. Unsurprisingly, it was from Jeff; the message sent to her and an unknown number she assumed to be Harry’s.

Good job, kiddos., was all it read but there was a photo attached to the message. Her heart stopped while she waited for the photo to load, cursing her slow wifi in the process. After a few breathless moments, the photo came through.

It was a screenshot from the website of one of the biggest entertainment magazines in the country. A picture of him kissing her cheek was the front page of the website.

Harry Styles and Y/N Y/L/N Rumored To Be Music’s New Power Couple Ahead of Tour

She was honestly speechless. This was huge.

She would like to say the sheer shock blurred her judgement, but the curiosity just got the better of her. Harry’s words repeated over and over again in her head, telling her not to, even as her finger connected with the icon of the little blue bird.

She was the most talked about topic in the entire world, her name hovering in bold letters on the trending page. She did everything she could to not click on her name, but her fingers did it all on her own.

The first few tweets were nice. Someone said they liked her style and that they looked cute together as a couple. Another said that they had always enjoyed her music and that they were happy for them.

But as she scrolled, it became harsher and just mean. People commented on her weight, said she couldn’t sing, and criticized her personality as seeming fake and forced. Her eyes were locked on the screen, unable to look away, as her heart began to break and few tears began to roll.

It took one final, and the most painful, tweet for her to consider deleting her account completely. She swiped out of the app fast, but the words were still burned into her brain.

Y/N is using Harry, just like she used James before he got rid of her and found someone better.

The words knocked the wind out of her, pouring salt on an open wound that had yet to heal.

She also had the little blue bird for that heartbreak as well. When she opened the app two months ago, the first thing she saw was pictures of her (former) fiance, James, with his tongue down some girl’s throat. At the time she had been devastated, her heart broken beyond repair.

It felt like no one else in the world could understand the way she was feeling. If she was in this position because of another person, they must get it too. The text to Harry was already sent before she had time to think it over.

I looked and I shouldn’t have. I’m sorry that I didn’t listen.

His response came only seconds later.

Don’t be sorry. It’s hard not to. Are you alright?

She had to think about his question, unsure if she knew the answer. Tears were still running down her face and she felt like she was a target the entire world had decided it was open season on. Logically, she knew these people never thought she would see these awful things, but it didn’t excuse the hurt she felt when she did.

I don’t know. I just don’t understand how people can be so cruel.

She felt like she was bothering him, even though he had offered to be there for her. He wasn’t her best friend, or a close confidant; he was her fake publicity boyfriend. He had real friends he wanted to talk to or maybe even a real girlfriend underwraps somewhere. Her body was wracked with guilt as she thought it over.

People are just mean on the internet, okay? They think they can say whatever they want without repercussions. I’m so sorry that you are being targeted because of me.

Before she got a chance to think through a proper response to him, her phone dinged with another text. It was from Jeff again.

Really good job, kiddos.

Y/N was confused. They hadn’t done anything else but be seen together today. Her sick sense of curiosity got her again before she opened Twitter again and looked up Harry’s name. He had tweeted for the first time in six months only a few moments ago.

@Harry_Styles: We treat people with kindness.

***

The next time she saw him was two days later at yet another public meet up Jeff had arranged for them. Unfortunately this time, she had become just as famous as Harry seemingly overnight, the flames of her new found fame growing even larger after he had sent that tweet.

While the fame had grown, the hate had calmed since his statement, which most had taken as an official declaration of their relationship. Now, that was not to Jeff’s plans.

She had to fight her way out of her apartment complex, wearing a pair of massive dark sunglasses with circular lenses and shielding her face with her hands the best she could. But she did have to admit that the electric orange fabric of her jumpsuit probably didn’t do much to help her blend in and avoid the attention of the paparazzi that had now found out where she lived.

Harry was sitting at the table by himself facing the back of the cafe when she arrived, two cups of coffee waiting before him to be drank together placed delicately on the table. He had his head down, buried in a book, before she startled him with a hug from behind. Her cheek connected with his warm neck where she buried her head into him and she took in his dizzying cologne.

She felt him jump beneath her as she wrapped her arms around his shoulders, pressing a dramatic and cheesy kiss to his cheek, feeling his light stubble prick her chapsticked lips. “My hero,” she joked, trying to bring at least a little humor to the man who had just about jumped out of his skin at her touch.

It felt like she was crossing a boundary, and she was pretty sure she was, but she just needed to thank him and a hug felt like the best way to do that while in a semi-crowded coffee shop. Also, playing up that they were madly in love didn’t hurt.

“Jesus Christ,” he breathed, a hand flying over his chest in surprise to feel his racing heartbeat. “You scared the shit out of me.” Once he settled for a moment, his arm moved across his chest to rest on her arm. His touch was gentle and soft, holding her there gently like he didn’t want her to release him from her grasp. She tried not to think about it too much as she slipped her arms off of him, making her way to the seat that was clearly meant for her across from him.

“I’m sorry that I scared you. A little jumpy today?” she teasingly questioned.

“Hey, watch it,” he playfully threatened. “I believe you called me your hero about thirty seconds ago.”

“I guess I did,” she quipped over the mug she was bringing to her lips. It was sweet but not too sweet, with cream but not too much, and still piping hot; just the way she liked it. “I don’t think it’s too far off,” she smiled before turning back to the coffee. “Good coffee,” she mused. “Just the way I like it.”

“Good. I texted Jeff for your order,” he informed her, the gesture being so thoughtful and sweet she could have melted into a puddle right there and then. “And I think ‘hero’ might be a bit much,” he tacked on.

“Don’t be humble, Harry.” While her voice was still light and held a jesting tone, she meant her words. “You made the entire internet leave me alone, for the most part,” she clarified as there were definitely some nasty messages still floating around Twitter, “in five words.”

“It was the least I could do,” he said while shaking his head slightly, seeming to deflect her words.

“You could have done absolutely nothing.” She reached across the table and grabbed his hand in hers like they had staged at the cafe a few days earlier; but this time, it was an honest gesture, not one for a role they were both meant to be playing. Her words were serious, punctuating each with a gentle nod of her head. “I mean it. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” His eyes held the same truthfulness and honesty she hoped she was mirroring in her own. “I know all of this,” he paused and gestured between them with his free hand, “is for publicity, but I consider you a friend. It was hard to watch it all go down like that. You’re a good person and you didn’t deserve all that. I had to do something.”

There was a warmth that flooded her chest. He called me his friend, she thought to herself, fighting back a big toothy grin. She had been under the impression that all of this was just work for him, something he was doing just to drum up publicity, with no personal connections at all. But him calling her a friend meant so much to her. It meant she was not alone in all this terrifying and overwhelming attention.

“I’m glad you think of me as a friend,” she said, still holding back her smile. “You’re my friend too.” He matched her close-lipped smile that had fought its way onto her face at her words.

They sat in silence together for a few moments. Harry returned to his book and Y/N answered emails; but their hands stayed connected across the small table. This silence was very different from the silence on the day they first met. It wasn’t an uncomfortable silence that sat on your tongue, begging you to break the quiet; it was peaceful and safe.

Their silence was broken when a young woman wearing a jittery smile and nervous eyes approached their table. Her voice squeaked out a mouse-like “Hi,” towards the both of them, bringing their eyes up to meet hers and instinctively breaking their hands away from each other.

“I’m so so sorry to be a bother,” she began, cheeks red and hot. “But I’m a really big fan of both of you and I would never forgive myself if I didn’t say hello.” She rambled excitedly, mostly looking at Harry, as she held her slightly shaky hands up to her chest.

“Hello,” Harry said with one of his million dollar smiles. “What’s your name?”

“I’m Emma,” she breathed.

“Well, it’s so nice to meet you Emma.” He spoke gently with her, clearly sensing her anxiety, extending his hand for her to shake. “Thank you for all of your support.”

Y/N watched closely as he spoke with her. He spoke to her like she was the only person in the room, giving her his whole undivided attention, and repeatedly thanking her as she flooded him with compliments about how his music and message of kindness meant so much to her. She was so entranced that she nearly didn’t hear her own name being said as the girl turned towards her.

“I love your music as well,” she grinned, clearly more comfortable after her short conversation with Harry. “And your jumpsuit is just incredible.” Her nervous giggle was contagious, Y/N releasing one as well at the compliment as her cheeks heated slightly. She was shocked she even knew any of her music, clearly being the less popular of the pair.

“Thank you so much, Emma. It means a lot.”

Emma took a few quick selfies with the both of them (that would be everywhere within a few hours), said goodbye and went to leave the two, but not before she paid them one last compliment. “You two are really cute together. I’m rooting for you.”

Both of their cheeks warmed as they looked back at each other. They were quiet for a moment, unsure how to respond, before Harry turned his attention back to the girl with a coy smile. “I am too,” was all he said.

***

The next three weeks passed in a blur of tour rehearsals, fittings, and public meetings with Harry. And then all of a sudden, it was the night of the first show.

Y/N had never been so nervous in her entire life. She would be the first face seen by just over 19,000 people, tasked to warm up the crowd and prepare them for Harry, which was enough pressure. And then there was the chance that they all hated her guts.

She stood behind the curtain, listening to the loud and inpatient crowd as she paced back and forth. She white-knuckeld her guitar, trying to keep her violently shaking hands from being too visible to the crew around her. Her stomach swirled and her palms were clammy, constantly having to rub them on the pants of her icey blue jumpsuit. It fit her like a glove, the wide legged pants and slight shoulder pads, creating a perfect hourglass silhouette; the only thing she was confident in at the moment was how good she looked in it.

Her heart leapt out of her chest and she almost hit the ceiling when a small voice appeared over her shoulder, whispering “You’re going to do great,” in her ear. If her heart wasn’t about to give out before, it was now. She swung around to face him, almost hitting Harry with her guitar, letting out a small breath of relief when her eyes met his own. They always seemed to calm her down a bit.

“I’m kinda freaking out, H,” she anxiously babbled, using the nickname he had told her to call him. “This is the biggest crowd I’ve ever played in front of, and they probably all hate me because they think I’m dating you, and I have to make sure I do a good job so they start listening to my music; and I just…” she trailed off for a second, uncomfortably scratching the back of her neck, “I just can’t let you down.”

His face softened at her words, seeming to take pity on her. “Y/N,” he began, resting his hands on her shoulders and looking so deep into her eyes she felt like he could probably see her soul. “We picked you to open because people love your music and the way that you perform. You just have to go out there and do what you do best: sing your heart out and put on a good show. It’s only 25 minutes. I know you can do it.”

Every word that left his lips was laced with honesty and encouragement; just enough for Y/N to relax her furrowed brow and give her lip a break from her constant chewing. “I can do it,” she softly repeated back to him, still not breaking contact with his striking green eyes.

A stage manager passed by them, running to some other important task, but not before tapping her shoulder. “You’re on in 30 seconds,” he spoke, just as she heard the roar of the crowd begin, signalling the dimming of the lights in the arena.

“Go kick some ass,” he winked, stepping backwards from her and releasing her from his grasp. “I’ll be watching.”

Walking on stage, she wasn’t met with ‘boo’s that had plagued her nightmares, or mean looks from the audience, or rotten tomatoes thrown from the crowd.

They were screaming in excitement, screaming for her.

From the second she started playing, the crowd had her back; the ones that knew the words to her songs sang them along with her, and the ones that didn’t, happily danced to her voice. Before long, the smile she had forced onto her face was genuine, and her set passed by with ease. When her 25 minutes were up, she wasn’t sure if she wanted to get off the stage.

She took her final bow as the crowd roared, running off of the stage into the wings, looking for one person in particular. And when she found him, she threw herself into Harry’s open and waiting arms. “I told you that you were going to do great!” He spoke excitedly into her ear and he held her close to his body, his arms wrapped around her waist tight.

She liked the way it felt to be in his arms.

Pulling away from him, she saw the massive grin that he wore for her, noting how adorable his dimples were and how the excited look in his eyes made him look like a little kid. But there was more to his face than excitement, he looked proud.

“They were so nice to me, and they knew my songs, and they were screaming so loud for me, and it just went so well. I can’t believe it!” Her previous anxious chatter had become an exhilarated rambling and she felt on top of the world.

“I can,” he grinned, looking down at his watch quickly. “I have to go get changed.” If she wasn’t so amped up, she might have noticed the disappointment that flashed over his features. “Promise me you’ll watch the show?”

“Pinky swear?” She stuck up her little finger in the air.

“Pinky swear.” He kept their pinkies locked for a moment too long, then released her hand and ran backstage to get dressed.

She kept her promise and watched with excitement as the building shook when Harry took the stage.

She had never heard something quite so loud, sure her ears would be ringing when she snuggled into her bunk on the tour bus that night. Watching him perform was mesmerizing; he knew how to work a stage in every way and make every person in the arena feel like he was singing just for them. He was larger than life while performing and his little dances and mannerisms only got more pronounced the more comfortable he got on stage. He messed with Mitch, who she had only met a few hours ago (he was very nice), and constantly praised Sarah on the drums behind him, while he looked over to Adam and sent him smiles often.

Everyone in the building came for a show, and boy, did he give them one. It was amazing to watch. There was a reason she was a fan.

Bouncing off the stage, full of adrenaline and in a post-show high, he came to find her. It wasn’t hard, as she had never left her spot on the side of the stage, unable to rip her eyes away from the man before her.

“Oh my god, Harry! That was incredible!” she said with delighted amazement.

“I’m glad you liked it.” He was smiling down at her with a big toothy grin, a hand running through his sweaty hair and pushing it off his forehead. “They only get better from here.”

***

He was telling the truth. The shows only got crazier and more exciting as the tour went on, and so did their “relationship.”

About five shows in, Jeff had Harry given her his “H” ring to start wearing. Harry didn’t seem too phased by it all even though she thought it might be too much, saying “it’s like a friendship bracelet.” But it was too big for her fingers, not because she had small hands, but because Harry’s were absolutely massive. She wore it on a chain around her neck from then on and made sure to always be seen playing with it.

Fans took notice and loved it.

A little after that, Jeff sent them off to get matching manicures. Both had a melting rainbow of oranges, pinks, and browns on their fingertips, which looked amazing in the paparazzi photos of them walking around with their fingers intertwined.

The fans loved that too.

But when she “accidentally” posted a photo of Harry on her story, the entire world lost it’s shit. In the photo, he laid sprawled across a bed in only a white hotel robe that was creeping dangerously high up his thigh. He looked sleepy and slightly sweaty, in a post-fuck haze, and clothes that looked very similar to ones she had been seen wearing in public only days before were strewn across the floor. The caption read “I love getting to love you.”

The photo had strategically only been up for about 30 seconds, but by the time it was deleted thousands of people had seen it and screenshots had been taken. They quickly circulated the internet, creating a bit of scandal. But more than anything, people began to love the two of them together even more. Harry looked genuinely happy in the photo, and for most of his fans, that was all that mattered.

They were creating a fairytale love story for an audience, but she would be lying if she said she wasn’t enjoying her role. She quite liked being his “girlfriend.”

Harry and Y/N had a way of clicking as they grew closer–quite literally as they were crammed together on a tour bus most of the time. They seemed to be able to finish each other’s sentences and always beat the other to the punchline of a joke. The pair had begun to pick up on the other’s mannerisms and habits; Y/N always teasing that Harry was going to rub his nose off one day if he kept rubbing it while he was thinking and Harry always knowing when she got enough sleep by whether or not she had put on eyeliner that morning. They swapped playlists back and forth in their bunks as they tried to doze off and always grabbed a cup of coffee for whoever had decided to sleep in the next day, now knowing the other’s order by heart.

There was only one thing she didn’t know about him that she longed to discover: what his lips felt like against her own. She could never think too hard about it though, or she may just explode.

He had become a calming presence and was currently helping her keep her cool, even though she knew the pair of interviewers across the table were getting ready to grill the pair for every detail they could get. His hand had settled on top of her knee to quell it’s nervous bouncing, but remained after she had stopped, even though no one could see his touch under the table. She watched as his thumb ran itself back and forth along the leg of her flashy orange and yellow patterned overalls and she had a hard time pulling her gaze away when the radio host across the large table began to speak.

“So Harry,” the bald man began. “Fine Line has been one of the biggest albums of the year and I just have to say I love it. It’s truly incredible.” She listened as the man continued on to sing Harry’s praises, going on to list his grammy nominations, sold out world tour, and other accolades. She couldn’t help but smile as she watched his cheeks tinge pink with the praise. She knew anyone watching would pick up on her adoring look and people fawn over it, but she knew her gaze was nothing but truthful.

“Thank you very much,” he said shyly, shaking his head slightly as he spoke into the microphone suspended in front of his face. “You’re too kind.”

“Stop being humble,” she teased him, playfully tapping him on the arm. “All of his music is fantastic,” she said turning her attention back to the man across from them, “especially Fine Line.”

“And there’s Y/N, being the supportive girlfriend,” the man chuckled.

“I support him in everything he does,” she smiled back, not having to embellish the truth at all. “He is an amazing talent and I think Fine Line shows that.”

It wasn’t hard for her to gush about him. It was actually quite easy. She absolutely adored him, as an artist, a friend, and the focus of her affection. She felt an equal warmth in her cheeks as she watched his get even pinker with her compliments.

“That’s actually something we wanted to ask you about,” the blonde woman sitting next to him piped up, a mischievous glint in her eyes that sent nervous butterflies flying around Y/N’s stomach. “One of the songs on Fine Line, Cherry to be specific, actually features the voice of Harry’s ex, Camille. How does that make you feel as his new girl?”

Y/N did her best not to gag at the woman’s question, gritting her teeth as she plastered on a polite smile. “Well, I think Cherry is a really great song and her voice at the end adds a lot,” she spoke as smoothly as she could, refusing to let on that the question rattled her. Harry’s light squeeze on her knee signalled to her that she had answered the question well.

“It’s also been three years since the song was written,” Harry cut in. “Things are obviously a lot different now.” He connected their eyes for a second while he was leaning back into his seat, sending her a short smile, but she knew him well enough to know it was genuine.

“Oh, definitely,” the woman eagerly agreed. “You’re in a great new relationship with a beautiful girl on your arm.”

“Y/N,” he emphasized her name as the woman had referred to her as a possession of his for a second time, “and I are very happy. Thank you.” To an onlooker, he was calm. To her, he was visibly uncomfortable by her words.

Y/N began to notice a clear pattern as the interview went on. Harry was asked exclusively about his music and the tour, while Y/N only became relevant to their interviewers when they wanted to mention their relationship.

When the man asked Y/N if she felt uncomfortable playing to Harry’s mainly female fanbase every night that are “so obviously jealous of her,” something snapped inside of her, sending all her hours of media training out the window. “I’m not uncomfortable at all,” she said curtly. “His music is great and he puts on an awesome show. I don’t think the audience’s gender really has anything to do with the music.” She watched the man’s face fall before she decided to go on. “And I would like to think that at least a few of them are there for me too. You do know I make music too, right?”

An indignant smirk found its way to her lips as the man stammered out, “yes, of course.”

“Okay. I was just wondering since you have only asked me questions about our relationship since we got here.”

She knew Jeff wouldn’t be happy, but at the moment, she couldn’t care less. They may not have really been dating, but the interviewers didn’t know that. All of their dismissal of her and her career was 100% real.

She had been so worked up that she didn’t even realize Harry’s hand had left her knee until it found its way to rest on her back. She leaned into his touch as he rubbed her back softly while she crossed her arms in front of her.

The interviewers looked at the two of them across the table, jaws both lying on the floor. It was quiet until Harry nonchalantly spoke. “She has a point.”

The last few minutes of the interview passed in an awkward blur that felt suffocating. She felt like she could finally take in a deep breath once they were in the back of a massive SUV being driven away from the studio.

“Jeff is going to have my head,” she mumbled under her breath, nose stuck into her phone as she scrolled Twitter to see what people were saying about her outburst. But before she could read any opinions, Harry's tattooed arm blocked her view as he gently pushed her phone down onto her lap.

“Look at me,” he murmured, beckoning her attention to the other side of the back seat. When she connected her eyes with his, his usual calming aura took over her, softening the stressed crease between her brows. “It’s going to be okay.”

“Harry, I just blew my career up into smoke because I couldn’t deal with a rude interviewer,” she huffed at him.

“No,” he disagreed softly, moving the hand that rested on her arms to interlock his fingers with one of hers. “You stuck up for yourself to people who were ignoring your work and whittling you down to your relationship.”

“But it was rude.”

“It was necessary.”

The car ride to the venue for that night’s concert was quiet, but Harry never let go of her hand, brushing his thumb over her knuckles in a comforting touch. She wasn’t sure if she ever wanted him to let go.

***

It was the early hours of the morning by the time the pair returned to their tour bus and went to crawl into their bunks.

Her performance had gone well and Harry was mesmerizing (as always). He was truly hypnotizing to watch while he performed and she hadn’t missed watching him yet, even as they drew close to the end of the tour. It was the best part of her day and she would miss it dearly after the last show.

She was almost asleep, curtain drawn and cuddled under a pile of blankets, when her cell began to ring. Her heart sank, knowing only one person who would know when she had a sliver of free time (even though it’s debatable if sleeping counts as free time). She was going to get scolded like she was a little kid in the principal's office and she knew it.

“Hi Jeff,” she answered with a sigh as she pulled the curtain back and slid from the bunk, the cold air of the tour bus nipping at her legs.

Her gaze was met by a snuggled up Harry wearing a concerned face across from her in his own bed. He never closed the curtain, not even when she asked politely to muffle his snores, always saying something about how it made him claustrophobic. He sent her a tired smile and mouthed “good luck,” extending a hand for a fist bump as she passed. Knocking their knuckles together put a brief smile on her face before she buckled in for the chewing out she was about to get.

Harry watched her intently as she paced up and down the front of the tour bus as she spoke to Jeff, too far away for him to listen in. Her face gradually turned from anxious, to surprised, to something that would have probably been happiness if she wasn’t so tired.

“Alright, thank you for everything.” She spoke softly when she finally returned to be within earshot for him. “Goodnight Jeff.”

“So?” he murmured groggily at her, brows raised in question at her.

“People loved it,” she said shocked, like she didn’t fully believe it herself. “They think I’m some kind of badass for shutting down a sexist. Which is, like, a lot,” she spoke with a disbelieving chuckle, unable to find the right words in her groggy state. “I don’t really know what to make of it.”

Harry seemed to spring up from his spot in his bed, smacking his head on the top of the bunk in the process, prompting them both to dissolve into a puddle of giggles.

“Don’t get too excited for me,” she laughed. “I cannot be the reason that you hurt yourself and have to cancel a show.”

“I was just too excited to say ‘I told you so,’” he smirked, now rubbing the side of his head through his curls.

“Cocky bastard,” she sarcastically murmured under her breath while dramatically rolling her eyes.

She watched with confusion as Harry left his bed, and after a short and frantic search for his pajama pants so he wouldn’t “offend her eyes,” he moved towards the front of the bus. Her eyes trailed him as he bent down to the small mini fridge and pulled out two beers.

“We have to celebrate.”

It was 2 AM and she had been so ready for bed after a long day. But she knew she could never say no to him. She thanked god that they had a day off tomorrow.

After retrieving her massive and lovingly worn Grateful Dead sweatshirt to protect her from the chilly air, she nearly ran to the front of the bus. His painted pink fingers moved with skill as he popped the bottle caps off with one of his rings, handing it to her and gently nudging his bottle against hers.

“Cheers,” he murmured softly as he looked down at her with a kindhearted smile.

“Cheers,” she seemed to whisper back to him, a flutter in her stomach reminding her how badly she wanted to reach out and connect her lips to his. Instead she slid into the small booth across from him, taking a long sip from the bottle as she watched him do the same.

“I want you to know that I was really proud of you today,” he said as he put his beer down on the table. “Rude interviewers are never easy and you handled it like a champ.”

“Thank you, H,” she nodded, suddenly bashful and unable to make eye contact with him. Her cheeks burned hot as she put all her focus into tracing the rim of the bottle with her finger tip.

“Hey,” he called for her attention and her eyes snapped up to meet his. “I mean it, Y/N.”

“I know you do,” she gently nodded at him. “I’m just really happy they didn’t ask about my ex,” she chuckled as she took another sip. “That would have gone very poorly.”

“Oh yeah, I was a little annoyed they brought up my ex but not yours,” he teased. “Not fair if you ask me.”

“Well, then I’m glad no one asked you.”

“Can I ask you?”

“What?”

“About your ex.”

She should have been prepared to talk about it with Harry at some point. Half of this plan had been devised to get back at James anyway. She should be able to talk about it by now, especially with someone she had grown so close to.

“I guess so,” she shrugged, trying to seem casual like the mere mention of him didn’t still hurt her heart a little bit. “What do you want to know?”

“As much as you’re willing to tell me.”

He looked soft like this, eyes slightly sleepy with a tenderness in them as he looked back at her. His hair was unruly and puffy and he was wrapped in the powder blue blanket that lived on the tour bus’ couch. She would have told him anything that he ever wanted to hear if he kept looking like this.

With a deep breath, she began to recount everything that went down.

“I met James while I was still working as a waitress. I recognized him from his movies and started a conversation, and then–to my surprise–he asked me out on a date. I had been in LA for three weeks and this insanely famous actor is asking me to go out with him, so I obviously said yes.” She paused to take a swig of her beer, before mumbling under her breath, “I should have said ‘fuck no’ to that.”

A smile ghosted over her lips as she listened to Harry’s laugh across the table. She swore that laugh could cure cancer.

“But I didn’t,” she continued. “He introduced me to the right people and helped me make the right connections in the industry, which I guess made me feel indebted to him. Does that make sense?”

“Of course,” Harry nodded, eyebrows furrowed and listening intently.

“I should have broken up with him after I signed with Jeff and the label, however awful that sounds. But he just always knew the right things to say to make me feel special and like I was the most important person in the world. Even after I found out he was talking to other girls, he was somehow able to talk himself out of it.” She shook her head as she recalled it. “You wanna hear something fucked up?”

“Always,” he said with a gentle smirk.

“He proposed to me using lines from a romcom he was working on.”

Harry nearly spit out his drink. “Holy shit, you’re kidding!”

“I wish. I didn’t find out until I went with him to the premier a few months later and the proposal scene sounded surprisingly familiar.”

“What a dirtbag.”

“I know, right?” she laughed. “Then a few weeks after that, he got papped with his tongue down another girl’s throat. That finally knocked some sense into me and I ran for the hills.”

“Fuck,” he sighed as he finished his beer. “I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay,” she breathed. “I don’t even feel hurt by him anymore, ya know? I just feel angry at myself for trusting him.”

“I understand but it’s not your fault he was a piece of shit,” he said as he rose from his seat and traveled to the mini fridge once again. “Another?” he asked, holding the bottle up about his head.

“Fuck it,” she shrugged. “Sure.”

She watched him skillfully pop off the tops again using just his rings, making a mental note to make him teach her how he did that, before he flopped back down in his seat.

“At the risk of sounding like a Facebook mom, ‘you grow through what you go through,’” she chuckled, taking another long sip as she finished her first. He matched her high pitched giggle across the table and she nearly drooled beer down her front from smiling so wide.

“Amen, sister,” he agreed, raising his beer in the air.

“Oh, that was awful.” She shook her head as she descended into giggles. “Please never say that again.”

“Noted.”

“Anyway,” she began again after another sip of her drink, “I was well prepared to get my heartbroken by untrustworthy men after you, Styles.”

“I’m offended–tell me more,” he spoke quickly, his signature narcissistic smirk settling onto his features.

“I need you to know that Zayn leaving was my first real heartbreak.”

“Were the rest of us chopped liver?”

“You weren’t Zayn, I can tell you that.”

“Ouch!” He let out a loud belly laugh.

“Put yourself in my shoes for a minute, H. So first, the hottest-”

“Rude-”

“-I’m speaking. So the hottest one leaves, and then the rest of you are all like ‘we’ll be back in 18 months,’” she mocked him in a high pitched impersonation with a wave, “and then 6 months later you all mysteriously have solo careers.”

“I do not see you complaining about my solo career now, ya fame leetch.” He spoke with such humor and charisma, she couldn’t have even wished to be offended by his joke.

“Absolutely not, sir,” she said sternly, giving him a dramatic salute. “Deepest apologies from the fame leetch.” The two collapsed into giggles, laughing until their sides began to ache.

“Wait, I have a question for mega superstar Mr. Harry Styles of former One Direction fame,” she announced.

“I believe that’s me,” he bowed his head and raised his hand into the hair. “Shoot.”

She barely could get the question out, laughing too hard at her own joke. “Is Taylor Swift a good kisser?”

“Oh god,” he exasperatedly threw his hands in the air, chuckling while rolling his eyes dramatically before grinning wide as he thought over his answer. “I don’t kiss and tell,” he finally smirked.

“Wait, I have another!”

“Watch it, smart ass.”

“You think I’m smart?” she teased as she feigned flattery. “Have you ever heard of a song called ‘English Love Affair?’” He narrowed his eyes at her, a knowing smirk crossing his lips as he shook his head at her. “Also, when do I get to meet Gemma?”

“I’ll consider it when you stop bringing up her sex life, perv.”

“We’ve been dating for a few months now,” she teased as she continued to prod, emboldened by the liquid courage running through her veins as she was now half way through her next beer. “I think I should be allowed to meet the family soon. They seem delightful.”

“They would love how you have decided to rip into me like this,” he said with a cheeky smile, dimples on full display.

“Rockstars have to get knocked down a peg every once in a while.” She sarcastically shrugged. “Consider it a favor.”

She couldn’t help but think about how right this felt. Their back and forth flowed so smoothly, the banter falling from their lips without effort. Their laughter joined together in a delightful melody and she imagined they could go on this way all night.

Spending any amount of time with him made her so fucking happy; and time spent teasing each other over beers caused her to nearly explode with joy. How much she was enjoying herself was too hard to put into words.

He was safe and he was kind and he made her laugh no matter how bad his jokes were.

He was her best friend.

And for the first time, she was willing to admit that she was in love with him.

“Harry,” she hummed softly as their laughter died down to a comfortable silence. “Thank you for everything. You’ve changed my life forever and I can never repay you.”

“Just remember me when you get famous.”

“Oh shut up, I’m being serious,” she playfully scolded before letting her tone drop back into honesty. “You’re a very good person and I’m eternally grateful for you letting me be your opening act and then agreeing to this whole relationship charade.”

“I didn’t ‘let’ you be anything, Y/N. I picked you myself.”

Her brows furrowed in confusion. “What do you mean?”

“I listened to your album when it came out and fell in love with it,” he shrugged, his casual tone contradicting the surprised raise of her pulse. “When I found out Jeff also managed you, I knew I had to have you on the tour.”

Y/N was honestly stunned. She had always assumed that the tour was Jeff’s doing, a careful arrangement pairing Full Stop’s new up-and-comer with their most famous and established talent. Being offered the tour had been the biggest opportunity and honor she had ever been presented with; but she had never considered Harry himself being behind it.

“Oh,” was all she could manage to get out.

It was now his turn to be confused. “What’s so surprising about that?” he asked, reading the shock on her face like she was an open book.

“I just,” she stammered, trying to find the words in her slightly hazy state. “I never would have thought you knew who I was or listened to my music.”

“Why not?”

“I don’t know,” she trailed off. “You’re you, and I’m just... me, I guess.”

He didn’t respond right away, just looking at her intently and slightly amused, sea glass eyes boring into her with a pink lip held between his teeth.

He scanned her frame, from the way her hair sat messily on top of her head and the way the massive sweatshirt swallowed her body enough to where she had pulled her knees up to her chest underneath it. Her shoulders were slumped slightly, making her appear smaller as she held her legs close to her torso and her eyebrows were knitted together in worry, slightly nervous under his intense gaze.

She downed the rest of her beer in an attempt to forget his intense attention. It didn’t work.

“You really don’t know how incredible you are, do you?” he finally asked, the corner of his lips twitching into a small smile.

She felt her whole body burn with his compliment, wanting to shrink into herself and disappear completely from his view. She finally shook her head slightly in an attempt to deflect his words, breathing his name under her breath as if to scold him for being too kind.

“You are,” he insisted, ignoring her objection. “You’re so talented and your music deserves all the attention that it gets. I am honored that I get to play a part in helping expose the world to you and what you have to offer.”

“Thank you.” Her words came out as a whisper.

“You’re welcome, love.”

His pet name made her stomach turn in a nervous excitement and a wide grin involuntarily came to her lips.

“I like it when I make you smile like that.” His words only made her beam further. “You look very pretty when you smile.”

“Stop it,” she said softly, cheeks burning hot and having a hard time making eye contact with him.

“Stop what?” He feigned innocence as he lightly teased her, smirk still prominent on his features.

“Are you flirting with me, Styles?”

“Just practicing.”

His words rang through her mind long after they had left the table and crawled back into their bunks for the night. She wished she could see inside his head to understand whatever thoughts were running around his brain.

But for now she could just peak at him through the gap she had purposely left in her curtain, wondering if she ever popped into his dreams as he slept.

He was always in hers.

***

There was a sadness mixed in with her usually thrilled mood as she took the stage for the last show of the tour. While there was an element of relief as she looked forward to some well needed rest, the adrenaline and joy of being in front of a crowd was something that she would miss dearly. She had grown into a real performer over the last two months as they zig-zagged across the US and this period of time would have a special place in her heart long after it had ended.

But there was another reason why she was so sad to see this chapter come to an end. As far as she knew, a staged breakup was not far away and the thought of being without Harry was heartbreaking. He had become her person and soon their feux falling out would be on the front page of every magazine. She wanted nothing more in the world than for their relationship to be real, but it would be forced to end before it had even truely started.

She got choked up as she sang her final song that night, letting a few tears escape as she took in the thousands of people singing her lyrics back to her, flashlights swaying in the air to the beat of the music. Taking a move from Harry’s own playbook, she took her mic and directed it to the crowd to sing as she cried. The vibrations of the drums and bass behind her nestled it’s way into her bones and the chorus of singing voices in the crowd surrounded her in a bittersweet melody.

The past two months she had been on top of the world, and as soon as this song finished, it was the beginning of the end.

She took her final bow, watching as the small tears fell forward onto the dusty stage below her. She waved and blew kisses to the crowd, then nearly ran off the stage looking for the only person she wanted to see.

Harry was right where he always was, just out of view behind the curtain, holding his arms out for her to fall into.

“Awe, babe,” he hummed sympathetically when she settled her head onto his chest, surely ruining his crisp white t-shirt with her now wet makeup. “It’s okay. Final shows are always tough.” He rubbed her back gently, in a soothing rhythm.

He smelled so good. He smelled like home.

She tilted her head up to connect her glassy eyes with his. “I just don’t want this all to end.” She knew she wasn’t just talking about the tour.

“Neither do I,” he said as his lips curved into a devilish smirk that sent her heart into palpitations. “That’s why I have one last surprise for you.”

“Oh, Harry,” she sighed while wiping the remaining tears off her cheeks. “What have you done?”

“You said you liked surprises!” he defended.

“Not surprises in front of 20,000 people!”

“I promise you’re going to love this one, okay?” His voice was softer now, encouraging and supportive. “You’re going to come out and sing an extra song with me during my set,” he revealed.

“Sing what?”

“That’s the surprise.”

“Do I even know the words?”

“You definitely know the words,” he chuckled.

“I just finished sobbing. I can’t go out there like this.”

“You can fix your makeup. I believe in you.”

“What am I going to wear?” she asked, grasping at straws at this point, doing anything she could to get out of this.

“I had Lambert put something together for you.”

“Of course you did.”

She peppered him with a few more questions, but he had a smooth and charming answer to every single one. He had thought every detail out, and as always, she couldn’t say no to him.

“Fine,” she finally exasperatedly agreed, immediately met with his excited and dimpled smile that she had fallen head over heels for.

“Perfect,” he breathed. “I have to go get ready and so do you. I already put everything you need in your dressing room, okay?” She nodded, still biting her lip anxiously. He held her by her shoulders, lowering his head to match their eye level as he leaned in close, before he spoke. “You’re going to have fun. I promise.”

“Pinky swear?”

“Pinky swear.”

Seconds after they locked their little fingers together, he pressed a quick and protective kiss to her forehead that set her whole body ablaze before running off in the direction of his dressing room. She remained stunned and frozen in her spot for a few moments trying to process what it felt like to have his lips on her for the first time since that very first day they had met.

There was no audience to perform it for or an act to keep up behind the curtain. He kissed her because he wanted to.

She was finally snapped out of her daze when a stagehand bumped into her by accident, prompting her to begin the short walk back to her dressing room. But the ghost of his lips remained on her forehead, an incessant tingle placed there by his touch.

The dress she found waiting for her was one of the most beautiful gowns she had ever set her eyes on. Made of a light purple chiffon, the wrap dress’ long sleeves and floor length skirt flowed freely. A belt cinched the wispy fabric close to her waist and a deep-v exposed her neck and chest. But the most dazzling part of the dress were the red sequined hearts that dotted the fabric and reflected the light of the dressing room like a million little mirrors.

Slipping into it, the light fabric was soft against her skin, opaque enough but still slightly sheer to let light through and show off her legs and the bright red shiny pumps Lambert had left for her. She felt the most beautiful she had ever felt in this dress, boosting her confidence and quelling her nerves about whatever the hell Harry was planning.

“One minute to curtain,” was announced in an ominous voice over the arena’s backstage speakers as she finished fixing her makeup and she all but ran to make it back to the stage in time. She only had one more chance to watch him perform and she refused to miss a second of it.

Harry dazzled as the lights focused in on him, his deep blue and fully sequined suit reflecting the light and turning him into a human disco ball. He stood close to the edge of the stage as the beginning notes of the first song began being played by the band, but he made no move towards his mic stand to sing. His eyes were closed and his arms were outstretched to the audience, taking in every scream, every tear, and the thunderous shake of the building; but also giving himself to them.

Then the show began. As usual, he was electric, but tonight was like he had turned himself up to eleven. Every note he sang was full of his heart and every dance move was done with his entire body, even his bad jokes seemed funnier tonight.

She was so mesmerized she almost forgot about his ‘surprise.’ Almost.

“Since tonight is unfortunately our last show,” he pouted. “I thought I would do something special,” he spoke to the crowd as they roared, but quickly connected his eyes with her’s in the wings. By the smirk plastered on his face, she knew she was in for it.

“I recently found out that someone very close to me was a very big fan of…” he trailed off as he dramatically pretended to search for the right words, “my previous work.” He finished with a smirk and his words prompted the loudest reaction since he had been on stage.

“Now, I told her that she would be coming on stage to join me tonight, but I didn’t exactly tell her what we would be singing and I haven’t performed this song in a very long time, so cut us some slack if we mess up. This is very unrehearsed.” He kept sneaking glances back to her, as her eyes grew wider at the stunt he was currently pulling. “But I know for a fact that she knows all the words. I listen to her sing them in the shower quite often.” He wore a cheeky dimpled grin as he looked back at her once again.

The building was shaking due to the suspense he was creating, and looking down at her hands, she realized she was to. She gripped hard onto the mic a stagehand had just shoved at her, pleading with her hands to stop their tremors.

“Now, I would love it if you could all give another warm welcome to one of my favorite people on the planet, Y/N Y/L/N!” He turned his body to her for a final time, extending his hand out for her to take. Her legs felt like jello as she walked out into the bright lights towards him, interlocking her fingers with his as a way to keep her on her feet.

The audience’s screams were deafening at seeing the two of them together and she thanked god she had her earpieces in to protect her ear drums or they would have surely burst. She could only imagine the articles that would be written about this and the thousands of tweets that were probably already being sent.

“I’m gonna kick your ass,” she mouthed at him threateningly, but she couldn’t even get through the sentence before his dazzling smile began to quell her anxiety.

“The look on your face is 100% worth getting my ass kicked,” he answered smoothly before turning his attention back to the audience. “Everyone, sing along if you know the words,” he commanded their attention. “This is Ready to Run.”

Her jaw dropped and the crowd roared as the band behind her began to play the first few chords of the song she loved and knew so well. She had admitted it a few days ago that it was one of her favorites of his ‘previous work,’ but apparently he already knew that from the few showers she had taken on the tour bus.

“There’s a lightning in your eyes I can’t deny,” he began by himself, her brain still too shocked to jump in yet. He sang the first few lines to her with a giant grin plastered on his face, hand still holding tight to hers. His eyes had a playful glint in them that seemed to say ‘just have fun.’

“There’s a devil in your smile, it’s chasing me,” she finally began to sing, Harry fading his voice out so she could take the next few lines by herself as he admired her.

He did have a devilish smile, but it was one she loved with her entire heart. As she began to sing, she felt her muscles begin to relax into the song she had sung to herself so many times before, letting her body begin to bounce to the growing rhythm as her dress flowed around her.

The stage vibrated as Sarah beat her drums to introduce the chorus. “This time I’m ready to run, escape from the city and follow the sun,” the pair sang together, eyes still locked as their voices combined into the most perfect tune. “Cause I wanna be yours, don’t you wanna be mine?” they continued the lyrics. She felt herself meaning the words leaving her mouth more and more as they went on. She did want to be his, she couldn’t deny that. “I don’t wanna get lost in the dark of the night.”

Her apprehensiveness eased further as the music picked up and the hook went on, finally allowing herself to have a bit of fun. “Wherever you are is the place I belong,” they insisted towards each other, leaning in close before Harry grabbed her hand to dramatically spin her, the beautiful shining fabric of her dress splaying out around her. The next line was mumbled through giggles by both of them, but their laughter only added to the perfect moment they were having.

They danced across the stage together like there weren’t 20,ooo pairs of eyes watching them, both singing their hearts out to each other. It began to feel like they weren’t even there. It was just Y/N and Harry, serenading each other to one of her favorite songs.

“There’s a future in my eyes I can’t foresee,” she sang to him to start the second verse.

“Unless, of course, I stay on course and keep you next to me.” Harry grabbed her by her waist and pulled her into his side as he sang the words, prompting more giggles from her. She loved the way he smiled so wide as he sang, never breaking his eye contact with her and emitting pure joy. His eyes looked honest as he sang, like he meant every word just as much as she did.

The pair made their way through the rest of the verse and second chorus, flawlessly moving around the stage like they owned it. Y/N selfishly decided to let him have the bridge all to himself, needing to hear the way his beautiful voice hit the high notes. “This time I’m ready to run,” he sang passionately, executing the downward moving riff perfectly. “I’d give everything that I got for your love,” he pointed across the stage towards her, beckoning her back close to him. She quickly skipped to him at his request.

Like she had blinked, the song was already nearing its end.

“Cause I wanna be free and I wanna be young, I’ll never look back now I’m ready to run,” they belted the last lines out to each other. The band fell quiet on their last chord and the crowd exploded, but their noise fell on deaf ears as the pair stood so close their heaving chests were almost pressed up against each other. His eyes stared down into hers and she watched as his eyes flickered quickly down to her lips.

The world ceased to exist when he pressed his mouth to hers, even if it only lasted a second. It was nothing more than a peck, but it was everything to her. Her body igniting with heat and eyes full of shock, she looked back at him in simultaneous confusion and adoration, before realizing they had been staring at each other for too long. She needed to get off the stage so he could continue with his show. She walked back slowly towards the wings, letting the hand he had still been holding fall to her side. She waved and smiled to the crowd the best she could in her clouded mind.

“Thank you everyone!” she shouted into her mic as she moved out of their view. She shoved her mic into the first set of hands that would take it as she wobbled her way over to a table with water bottles. She nearly choked as she tried to suck one down, hoping it would ease the dizzy feeling he had created with his lips. Her lips burned just as her forehead had earlier in the night.

He had kissed her. He had sang a love song with her and then he had kissed her. She couldn’t decipher if that kiss was a confirmation that he shared the same feelings for her or if it was just another act for the cameras. But his mouth felt so right against hers. They fit together like a pair of puzzle pieces. She tried to suppress the optimistic hope that rose in her chest, but it began to swallow her whole.

When she heard his next song begin, she made her way back to the spot that had become hers at the side of the stage. She watched him perform the rest of the show in a loving haze, doe eyed and hypnotized, lips still buzzing from his contact.

He gave it his all. By the last song he was out of breath, drenched in sweat, and looked like he was about to pass out at any second. The crowd applauded for minutes after he left the stage and they were still cheering when she finally caught sight of him again. His curls were stuck to his forehead and his skin was shiny and flushed. He was panting, still trying to recover from his workout of a finale show; but he was beaming. His smile seemed to turn him into a beacon, emitting a light and positive energy that drew everyone backstage towards him.

She was so transfixed on Harry as he thanked the crew and accepted congratulations from all around that she just about jumped out of her skin when Jeff slinked up behind her and whispered ‘boo’ in her ear.

“What the fuck, Jeff,” she chuckled as she caught her breath, resting her hand on her chest and feeling her racing heartbeat.

“I just wanted to congratulate you on being half of the best fake couple out there,” he teased. “That kiss was perfect. People are losing their minds over it.”

“Oh,” she said softly, feeling every emotion she was distracted from while watching Harry rush back into her. Her heart sank as she remembered all the questions that continued to haunt her since she got off stage. “Thanks,” she murmured, plastering a smile onto her face. “I’m glad we could make you proud.”

“If you two could convince me, you can convince anyone.” Jeff walked off moments later, leaving her to sit in her confused thoughts as he disappeared into the hoards of bodies waiting for their minute with Harry.

She knew that she didn’t ‘convince’ Jeff of anything on her part. Everything she did with Harry was authentic and truthful. Including the thrilled grin that appeared on her face when she finally made eye contact with the exhausted man across the room. She gave him a shy wave that he sheepishly returned, biting back a shy smile. He pointed in the direction of his dressing room and mouthed “meet me in 15.”

She could never say no to him.

Fifteen minutes later, she was knocking on the large wooden door that had a single piece of paper that read STYLES haphazardly taped onto it. When it finally flew open, she was met by a soaking wet Harry with a towel hanging dangerously low on his hips. Her eyes trailed down his body without permission, taking in the toned torso that was decorated with his beautiful tattoos. Her eyes hovered over the two ferns that sat on his pelvis, too fascinated with the dark ink to pull her eyes away just yet.

She had obviously seen him in various states of undress before. They lived together on a tour bus without much space to exist with privacy, but this was different. He wasn’t rushing to get dressed or quickly changing his outfit. And he wasn’t moving away from her gaze at all.

If she hadn’t been so entranced by him, she would have noticed he was looking her up and down in the exact same manner.

She had changed since she had seen him last. The skin-tight black velvet romper she had brought along for the afterparty now fit her snuggly and held her every curve. The dark fabric was tight and appeared almost painted on, a rainbow racing stripe making its way down either side of her chest. The short shorts of the outfit exposed nearly all of her legs and the deep neckline put much of her chest on display as well. It’s long sleeves were her favorite part, as a strip of fringe dangled from below her arms any time she moved.

“You look great,” Harry finally choked out, his voice pulling their eyes back up to the other’s face.

“Oh, thanks,” she said, slightly awkwardly. “You too.”

“Well, I’m hopefully not going to the after party dressed like this,” he chuckled before stepping aside and ushering her into the room.

His dressing room was much larger than hers and she settled herself on the brown leather couch in the corner as she waited for him to get ready, sneaking glances up from her phone often. She chuckled as she watched him spend far too long fussing with his curls in the mirror, but was quickly distracted by the way his back and arms flexed when he reached up to muse his hair. Once he was satisfied with the way it fell, he disappeared into the bathroom at the back of the room. When he emerged, he was finally dressed, allowing her to take a deep breath and to focus on something other than his bare skin for the first time since he had opened the door.

The black satin suit was simple for him, but the tight white tank top that sat underneath hugged every muscle in his torso. She knew as soon as he got in the hot club, he would lose the jacket, and she would be devastatingly distracted once again.

The narcissist took one final look at himself in the mirror before turning to her and extending a hand. “Ready, darling?”

“You just spent 15 minutes exclusively on your hair and you’re asking me if I’m ready?” she teased as she took his hand, weaving her fingers between his as they exited the room together.

He leaned down close to her ear as they walked down the now mostly empty hallway, lips brushing over the hollow of her ear as he spoke. “I could have done it faster, but you were so obviously enjoying the show.”

“Relax yourself, Magic Mike,” she muttered indignantly, but hung her head in a way she hoped he couldn’t see how flustered he made her. Was she really that obvious?

They walked hand in hand out to the parking garage, now caught in a back and forth about whether or not Harry could be a male stripper. He said yes. She said no, although she did admit at one point that he worked his mic stand like a pole.

“Hey Jeff,” he called when they finally reached the parking garage where Jeff and Glenne had been waiting for them to head to the club. “Do you think I could be a stripper?”

“I think people would pay a lot to see it, but they may be disappointed in your dancing skills.”

“Come on,” he playfully whined. “I have some moves.”

“You have one move,” Y/N cut in with a chuckle, “and it’s the wiggle.” She brought her hands up near her chest, tilted her head back while dramatically biting her lip, and swayed her arms by her sides, earning a chorus of laughter from the people around her.

She hadn’t even realized she had done the move without releasing Harry’s hand first, dragging his arm into her dance as well, until their manager commented on it. “You know, you two don’t have to be holding hands all the time and keeping the show up back here,” he said with a slightly suspicious quirk in his eyebrows.

Her smile had been in the process of fading, like they had been caught doing something wrong, before Harry answered smoothly. “We know. Just practicing.”

There were those words again. Just practicing, she thought over to herself. But was he practicing anymore? How many flirty comments, heartfelt compliments, and warm touches did it take to cross the line of practicing to the real thing?

She wasn’t sure about Harry, but she knew that she wasn’t just practicing anymore.

She knew that the way they sat nearly on top of each other in the large SUV on the way to the club felt more than friendly. And the way he hadn’t stopped touching her in some way since they left his dressing room insinuated far more than something with business-like intentions. And the way he looked at her everytime he caught her eye the entire way to the club, always with a bright smile and adoring gaze that she always returned, pulled at her heartstrings far more than they should have if this was all an act.

A sloppy and cheeky grin settled almost permanently on his features after he had a few drinks in him, his arms moving in a lazy and fluid manner as she took in his many tattoos that he had exposed when he ditched his jacket (just like she knew he would). His butterfly was visible through the tight ribbed fabric of the white tank top and the little birds that peaked out from underneath seemed to be inviting her even closer to him in her now inebriated state.

All she wanted to do was to connect her lips with his as she watched him make conversation with someone from his management, entranced by the way his perfect mouth moved as he spoke. She once again craved the shocks of electricity that were created between them at the contact and could not stop thinking about it no matter how hard she tried. The protective hand that had settled onto her hip and continued to hold her close to his body just wasn’t enough anymore.

The pair had been drinking far too much; martinis turning into vodka sodas that had turned into straight tequila shots. She believed it was tequila shot four that did her in. The last thing she remembered was licking the line of salt off the back of her hand, downing the shot, and being entranced by Harry’s eyes as she bit down on the slice of lime he held carefully with his jeweled fingers.

***

The next morning, Y/N woke up in a hotel room that she didn’t recognize with a pounding headache and a swirling gut. It felt like she had been hit with a truck and she could barely pick her head up off the pillow.

She had so many questions about what had happened the night before. Where was she? Who let her drink that much? Whose clothes was she wearing? But most of all, what the hell happened after that fourth shot?

But she realized the worst was yet to come when she heard soft snoring coming from beside her. She knew that snoring well. It was the snoring that kept her up half the night for the last two months and the one that had almost driven her to suffocating her bus-mate in his sleep; the snoring that matched the crumbled black suit she just noticed in a ball on the floor.

It took every ounce of strength in her body to pull herself from the pillow and turn around in the bed to have her suspicions confirmed.

There he was.

His dark long eyelashes were fluttered down across the tops of his cheeks and his hair was going in every direction, skin clammy like his body was trying to rid itself of all the poison he had ingested the night before. The crumpled comforter was pushed down his stomach, his bare skin holding a sheen that helped define every dip or curve of his muscles and the tiniest bit of the band of his boxers peaked out to assure her that he at least wasn’t fully naked next to her.

Why were they in bed together? And why did he look so good? Oh my god, she thought as a possibility dawned on her. Did we sleep together?

“Harry,” she murmured softer than she intended, voice scratchy and mouth dry. The soreness at the back of her throat clued her into the copious amounts of screaming she must have done last night. He didn’t stir at her gentle coaxing, the light streaming through the windows making him look angelic as it covered him in a blanket of soft light while he continued to sleep.

It was a hard nudge to his chest that finally made him open his eyes, immediately releasing a groan she was sure she made when she regained consciousness too. He looked at her puzzled, still rubbing sleep out of his eyes as he propped himself up on his elbows. He took an equally confused look around the hotel room before looking back at her. She watched as the gears slowly turned in his head until his eyes opened wide and he spring up into a sitting position to mirror hers.

“We didn’t,” he whispered hopefully. “Oh my god, did we?” he asked, a look of horror crossing his face that matched her own.

“I have no idea,” she anxiously replied. “I was hoping you would know!”

“You don’t remember anything?”

“The last thing I remember was doing tequila shots with you.”

“I remember those.” He rubbed his eyes hard like it would somehow jog his memory. His eyebrows knit together, buried in thought as he searched his brain for a timeline. “I can follow the night up until we did karaoke.”

“We did karaoke?” she repeated incredulously and was met with a somber nod. “Do I even want to know what we sang?”

He shook his head slowly, shame clear on his face, before he finally mumbled. “We did ‘It’s Raining Men.’”

“Oh my god, no,” she whined, holding her head in her hands and rubbing her temples. There were surely videos of them sloppily singing on top of a bar circulating online and she wasn’t sure how Jeff would be able to spin that one in a positive light.

“Where’s your phone?” he asked, a hopeful glint in his eye as he reached for his own. “Maybe there’s something on there that can clue us in.” It took her a moment but she finally spotted it on the ground in the corner of the room. She said a silent prayer that it wasn’t dead or broken.

Forcing her heavy limbs out from under the covers she made her way towards the device, but not before she heard a confused sound coming from Harry. “How did you get my clothes?”

Looking down at herself and taking in the red lettering that read But Daddy I Love Him across her chest, it clicked that the t-shirt and baggy basketball shorts were his. But how they hell did she get into them?

“I think we’ve established at this point that I don’t know anything that happened after about midnight, Harry.” Her words came out laced with slight frustration. She hoped he knew she wasn’t annoyed with him, just their situation.

“Just a question, princess.”

She ignored his quip and began to search through her texts, call history, and photos, hoping to find anything at all that could help trace their steps through the night. She found nothing but a few selfies of them still at the club. One was the pair casually smiling, the next was one of him kissing her on the cheek that made her skin warm, but the final one made her snort out a laugh.

“What’s so funny?”

“I have a picture on my phone of you with two martini olives shoved up your nose,” she spoke through hysterical laughter. “Definitely birthday post material if you ask me.”

“Let me see,” he demanded with an adorable scowl.

She passed her phone over to him, still letting a few chuckles fall past her lips. “I’m gonna change your name in my phone to ‘Olive Nose Styles.”

“You're cruel.”

“You’re the one that put olives up his nose and then posed for a picture!”

“Whatever,” he grumbled, turning attention back to his own screen to continue his investigation. “There’s nothing of use on my phone either.”

The two flopped back on the bed, staring at the ceiling in the frustrated confusion. There was so much of their night that had gone up into smoke, completely unaccounted for with no clues as to what they did. Each traced their steps over and over again in their heads as they hoped desperately for a single detail that would lead them down a path to bigger memories, but it never came.

“Are we going to have to call Jeff and ask him what happened?” she finally murmured.

“I think so.”

“He’s going to put us both in client timeout, isn’t he?”

“We’re probably already there,” he groaned as he picked up his phone and hit Jefe Jeff-e in his contact list, putting the call on speaker and resting it on his still bare chest. The man on the other end picked up almost immediately.

“Morning Sleeping Beauty, I was wondering when I was going to hear from you.”

“Hi Jeff,” he groggily started then stopped, searching for the words that would make this all less uncomfortable. “Y/N and I have some questions about last night.”

Jeff let out a strained chuckle. “Yeah, that doesn’t really surprise me after last night’s bar bill.”

“Um,” Harry hummed, stammering but unable to form any real words.

“You sing about sex for a living,” she hissed at the man next to her before yanking the phone off his chest. “Jeff,” she started, taking over the conversation for them both. “Do you know if we slept together?”

“Probably not. You both were pretty unconscious when I put you in the hotel room.” His words prompted a massive sigh from both of them, looking to each other to share a relieved smile.

“Oh thank god,” they mumbled in unison.

“Jinx,” he smirked under his breath, prompting a ‘shut up’ from her.

“How did I get into Harry’s clothes?”

“I stopped by the tour bus when I realized you two probably shouldn’t be trusted not to roll out of your top bunks. I got you some clothes to sleep in before we took you guys to the hotel.”

“But why Harry’s?”

It was Jeff’s term to get squirmy. “I felt weird going through your things.”

“But you were perfectly fine with going through mine?” Harry asked, only half joking.

“Absolutely,” he deadpanned. They were all quiet for a moment before Jeff began again. “You two really don’t remember anything else that happened?”

“Everything after about two is unaccounted for,” she confessed.

“Oh,” Jeff chuckled. “So, you don’t remember when you stuck your tongues down each other’s throats on the ride home?”

Fuck.

Her eyes raced up to Harry’s from the phone she had been staring at like it held all the secrets of the night before. His easily readable features displayed all his emotions that surely matched hers. His pupils had grown in surprise, taking over nearly all the green in his wide eyes, and an embarrassed blush tinted his cheeks in a red hot flush that had reached the tips of his ears. His eyes flashed to the blank wall in front of them, running a stressed hand through his curls, like if he wasn’t looking at her, he would be able to focus better on the newly revealed information.

She couldn’t say that she didn’t relate. Her mind often went blank when she looked at him too. But right now, it was racing, occupied by anxious thoughts and intense emotions she couldn’t quite place, but felt with her entire being.

Her inevitable downward spiral was interrupted when Harry stiffly cleared his throat. “Uh,” he started, scratching the back of his neck uncomfortably. “We’ll see you later.”

“Sounds good, love birds,” Jeff replied, a clear snark apparent in his voice. Neither of the pair dignified his teasing with a response, Y/N quickly ending the call.

Silence hung heavy in the air and she let her eyes hover over the phone for too long when she settled it down on the bed, unwilling to connect her eyes with his just yet. Harry always had a way of staring into her and revealing all her cards to him before she even knew them herself. She wanted to hold them close to her chest for a moment, protecting the heart that longed for him more than anything else in the world.

There were no words exchanged between the two for a while as they silently took turns in the bathroom and occupied their hands and thoughts by their phones. They walked on eggshells anytime one neared the other. A tension like this hadn’t existed since the very first day they met, the first day they had begun to pretend.

Maybe that's why Harry was being so quiet. Maybe he never wanted to cross that line of pretending like she did. Maybe she had been blinded by his generally friendly personality and tricked herself into thinking there was anything more than a charade between them. Maybe last night really was just a drunken mistake, no matter how much she wanted it to be more.

“Maybe it’s a good thing that we don’t remember what happened last night,” she finally murmured from the opposite end of the room. She rested the side of her still heavy head and muscles against the wall, arms crossed in front of her as if they could keep her safe from the tension they had created. Her fingers nervously played with the hem of his t-shirt she was still dressed in.

“Why is it a good thing?” he almost immediately responded from the chair on the other side of the room he had settled himself into, running his hands along the satin pants of last night’s outfit he had put back on during their awkward shuffling around the room. He had even put physical space between them since they found out what happened, causing her heart to feel as if it was teetering on the edge of disintegrating.

“Well,” she stuttered, refusing to look at him and continuing to pick at her nail polish. “We’re just pretending so it would be weird if we really remembered it.”

“I don’t think it would be weird.”

“I don’t know,” she tried to maneuver her way around his response. “It might just be embarrassing to think about it.”

He let out a long and frustrated sigh, running his hands down his face. There was so much going on behind his eyes and she wished he would say something, anything, to break down the wall that hadn’t existed between them in months that was slowly reappearing.

“Do you regret it?” he asked bluntly, the abrupt question shocking her body to attention. “Do you regret any of this? Any of us?”

Did she regret drinking too much? Yes. Did she regret making out with him in front of their manager? Yes. Did she regret denying her feelings and pretending they didn’t exist for so long? Of course. But, did she regret falling in love with him? Never, not even for a second.

“No, I don’t,” she let out with a gentle shake of her head, no louder than a whisper.

“Neither do I.”

The words had barely left his lips before he crossed the room and crashed them into hers. The same fire she had felt on stage returned ten times over as his lips moved smoothly over hers, every neuron in her body lighting up like a switchboard. Her fingers reached up to curl into his hair and pull his lips impossibly closer to hers as her heart hammered in her chest with a passionate love she had kept under wraps for so long.

He tasted like the spicy peppermint toothpaste the hotel stocked in the bathroom and smelled like the tiny bottles of shampoo that rested on the side of the bathtub; but there was so much else about him that was completely unique–wholly irreplaceable and indescribable. He was just Harry.

Teeth clashed, lips were bitten, and hair was pulled as they took in every sensation the other created. His lips had been the only thought that captivated her mind since they were on stage the night before and her return to them did not disappoint. If her head wasn’t dizzy and her lungs not screaming at her for air, she would have stayed in that moment forever

When they finally disconnected, they stood against each other in a heaving and disheveled mess of heavy breathing and adoringly dazed smiles. She swore she could feel the pounding of his heart under her fingertips that rested on his chest.

“That was nice,” he eventually murmured down at her through heavy breaths, a love drunk grin finding its way onto his swollen lips.

“Yeah, I agree,” she hummed breathlessly, her anxious thoughts quiet and calm for the first time she could remember since she met him.

“I’m kind of disappointed I don’t remember doing that the first time,” he chuckled softly at her, shaking his head lightly in embarrassment with his pink tinged cheeks on full display.

“That’s okay. We were ‘just practicing’ then, right?” A giggle left her lips as she used the words against him. The same words he had used every time they let a glimpse of their true affections for each other slip past their guarded and friendly facade.

His dimples were exposed when he smiled a giant grin and let out a knowing huff, piecing together that she had caught onto his trail of excuses. “Yeah, just practicing,” he repeated softly, before his tone turned sincere and genuine. “I don’t want us to pretend anymore.”

“Good,” she said softly as her fingers slid up his neck to beckon his lips back down to hers. “I never was.”

“Neither was I.” She watched a soft smirk appear on his lips as they hovered over hers. “Do you want to keep not practicing?”

“Depends,” she quipped, lips brushing over his as she spoke. “Am I better kisser than Taylor Swift?

THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR READING!! REBLOGS AND FEEDBACK MEAN THE WORLD!!!

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chocosvt · 3 years

Text

⚬ pairing: seungcheol x fem!reader ⚬ word count: 4342 ⚬ warnings: brief drug mention ⚬ genres: mainly just fluff! college/uni!au

✧✎ synopsis: your longtime campus crush just received an interesting dare: to ask you out on a date. while the circumstances are questionable, you aren’t going to decline. maybe this is your ticket to romance.

✧✎ a/n: if this title or plot sounds familiar, then that’s bc i finally accomplished a goal of mine: to rewrite i dare you. this was a fic i originally wrote in 2016!! i did change some aspects, so not everything is identical. PLS ENJOY ;w;

The bells to the café door jingled.

Normally, you wouldn’t be so attentive about the customers filtering in and out, but at that moment, your gaze shot over the lid of your laptop like a harpoon. It was roughly the right time, the right day. According to your judgement, this was when they usually came for their morning coffees. Jeonghan, Joshua, and Seungcheol: a very popular trio amongst the likings of your campus.

Jeonghan was a nursing student. Clean-cut, charming to a degree of annoyance, and always ordered a boring black coffee. The second boy, Joshua, was cute enough to stop you in your tracks and force a double-take. However, he liked mathematics, numbers, weird formulas which looked more torture than learning. He preferred lattes with foam. And then there was Seungcheol. You wouldn’t call him your true love, because you didn’t know him all that well, and as far as he was concerned you were the lunatic who accidentally set pages of Joshua’s chemistry homework on fire. But that was a story for another day (you haven’t been near that Yankee candle since).

Nonetheless, you were crushing on him. Badly. To the point where you arrived at the café early, pretending to type a document on your laptop, just so you could flit your eyes every so often at his table while he slurped his chocolate mocha. You even had their scheduling memorized. It was a bit weird, and you would be the first to admit such a thing, but nothing was going to thwart you from daydreaming about those eyes of his. Or that dazzling smile. His short bursts of laughter which were usually tweezed out at Jeonghan pulling some stupid prank on Joshua. Everything about you adored him.

The trio gathered at their usual table, sat obliquely to your nook by the window. You had opened an older document that was already finished, pretended to tap against the keys while they ate a small breakfast before class. Something was different. They were giggling more than usual. And you couldn’t help but blatantly stare with concern when Joshua tore open a salt packet and poured it straight on his tongue. Jeonghan was grinning so widely that you were positive his face must be aching, and Seungcheol cackled into his fist while Joshua immediately grabbed for his latte.

A game. They were playing some sort of game.

Once Joshua had recovered, you noted that he began surveying the café, running his narrowed gaze to each table.

The second he found you huddled in the corner, attempting to shrink behind your laptop and pretend your presence was nothing but invisible, Joshua leaned into Seungcheol’s side to make a very smiley whisper. Pretend I’m working, pretend I’m working on something so damn important I can’t look up for even a second, you reiterated to yourself quietly, ignoring the panic ballooning inside you. A minute later, someone had just pulled out the chair across from you. They sat down with a slight groan, clasping their hands together.

Of course, it was Seungcheol.

“Hey.” He said, watching as you tentatively lowered the lid of your laptop, probably wondering why the hell you looked so stunned.

“What are you, um, doing?” You asked.

Seungcheol could not be sitting across from you just because he wanted to. It was impossible. And as much as that stung to admit, you knew the truth was simply that. He was definitely put up to this.

“We know each other pretty well, correct?” The boy completely ignored your question. “I know that you set Josh’s chem notes on fire. We take toxicology together. Need I say more?”

“Wow,” you replied, twiddling your fingers anxiously under the table, “that’s a whole two things. I can’t even count that high.”

“We can’t all be mathematicians,” Seungcheol moved the conversation along while he angled a white jar of sugar, “and I guess I should tell you, I’m in a predicament, which involves you.”

Your hands squeezed together so firmly that they nearly moulded into permanent fists. Seungcheol was staring at you now rather than flickering his gaze between the objects on the table, with those eyes as dark as sapphire. You were burning up, sweltering, felt like you needed to burst from your clothes and bathe in ice.

“A predicament?”

Seungcheol folded his muscular arms on the table and nodded. “Yeah, I got a dare from Josh. To ask you out. The thing is, I’m not supposed to tell you. But you seem like a nice girl.”

You swallowed very tautly and pushed down the lid of your laptop a little more. Over Seungcheol’s shoulder, you spotted both Joshua and Jeonghan observing, chuckling amongst themselves.

“Another thing,” Seungcheol added, raking a hand through his black locks, “I don’t want to lose to tweedle-dumb and tweedle-idiot over there – you can decide who’s who – so you should accept.”

Straightening your posture against the chair, you decided to spell out the situation, more for your sake than Seungcheol’s. “Let me get this straight. You got dared to ask me out. You have nothing better to do tomorrow night, so you accepted it. And I don’t have a choice.”

“Your wording is a bit disparaging. But essentially, yeah.” He leaned back with a gorgeous smile, turning up his palm. “So, down?”

At that moment, you could not believe the universe had just ladled this ridiculous possibility into your lap. A date with your biggest crush on campus. A date that so many people would be wrangling your neck to steal from you – even if it was based on an innocuous little game which Seungcheol refused to submit because he was too competitive at heart. It might not have been your most prideful choice in life, but you accepted. Any chance to spend the night with him would not be wasted as long as the offer stood.

However, you had one condition.

“I’ll do it,” you grinned, watching the boy’s expression perk like a child who just got handed a cookie, “on the account of another dare. Which you’ll find out on our fake date.”

“Fine.” Seungcheol shrugged, sliding his phone across the table so that you could enter your number. He stood up afterward, on the verge of returning to his friends when he suddenly paused.

“See you tomorrow night, sweetheart.”

There was such a rush of butterflies in your stomach, you were surprised one hadn’t flown out your mouth.

You didn’t know why you cared so much about a date that was most likely intended to humiliate you. Was Joshua still not over those chemistry sheets? Even after you spent a good two hours in the library attempting to rewrite them with your nicest, smoothest gel pel? Thoughts of what to wear, your style of makeup, and which perfume you should choose amongst the few on your dresser were awfully overwhelming. In fact, you were almost late to the park, the area Seungcheol had picked as a rendezvous point.

He rose from the bench in front of the duck pond once you arrived, checking the time on his wrist while making a tsking sound.

“Four and a half minutes late,” Seungcheol said, shaking his head, “you’re not making a good first impression, my lady.”

Obviously, you weren’t going to admit how you were stressing about a technically-fake date. In the end, you threw on a simple outfit and applied some lipstick on your way out the door, shoving the tube into a small purse hung over your shoulder. It’s not like he was treating you to a five-star restaurant by romantic candlelight. But if he ever did, you had the perfect outfit planned.

“Well, I’m here now. And with your dare.” You grinned.

Seungcheol stuffed his hands in his pockets. “Let’s hear it.”

“I dare you to buy me a week of coffee.”

At first, Seungcheol didn’t utter a thing. But then he erupted into a fit of laughter until his cheeks turned rosy like peaches.

“That’s not how this works,” he half-sighed, half-chuckled while removing a tear from his eye, “I’m rejecting it.”

“You can’t reject it! You definitely owe me. I didn’t let you lose to tweedle-dumb or tweedle-idiot. Plus, it’s low to ask someone out on a dare. I didn’t even have to show up.” Ensuring your tone was confident, you folded your arms over your chest, raised your brow at the boy, and observed him as he tapped his foot in contemplation.

“Can I have time to consider?” Seungcheol asked.

While it was tough to capitulate so easily and let him have his way, you didn’t want to spend the entirety of your night standing next to a slimy pond, debating the regulations. So you bit the bullet. Besides, Seungcheol announced that there was a party he needed to stop by, that there was a particular someone to which he owned money. It was a short walk to this brick house that reverberated with music, cars stalled up and down the street while a flood of strobing colours illuminated in the windows. Seungcheol knocked on the door quite loudly, and then he reached for your hand, wrapping his fingers around yours. You shot him a puzzled glance just as the door swung open, the stench of marijuana mingling with the cool, night air.

“Well, well, well,” a fox-eyed boy murmured after taking a long puff from his blunt, “Choi Seungcheol. It’s about damn time.”

“I was in the neighbourhood. Heard you and Soonyoung were lighting this place up. What a good turnout, huh?”

“Mmhm,” the other boy hummed unenthusiastically, leaning his wide shoulder against the doorframe, “you got the money or no?”

Seungcheol laughed. “C’mon, Wonwoo. We don’t even get to go inside? Hang out for a bit? Have a drink? You’re a shitty host.”

Wonwoo slid a finger under his chin, rubbing in contemplation. It was starting to get colder out, for you could hear the tree leaves rustling together as a wind whisked through the dark. You squished yourself a bit closer into Seungcheol’s side, and to your surprise, he let go of your hand and wrapped an arm around your shoulders. Finally, Wonwoo concurred, sticking the rolled paper back between his lips while stepping aside with an inviting gesture.

“Make yourselves comfortable,” the boy muttered, “but I’ll be coming to find you in about ten minutes. And I wanna see cash.”

“What’s his problem?” You whispered by Seungcheol’s ear as he guided you around an illy lit corner, into the kitchen.

His warm breath feathered your ear as he said, “I lost a couple bets to him and was slow getting the money back.” Seungcheol then grabbed two solo cups organized in a stack on the counter, filling each with a red, fruit-mixed alcohol which sat in two glass bowls.

“Don’t worry, he’s harmless.”

You accepted the cup and took a sip. “Oh, in case you needed to beat him up? I don’t know,” you lilted, “he looks pretty sturdy.”

“Are you kidding?” Seungcheol gawked.

He slapped his drink down on the counter and threw his jacket over the back of a chair. With a perplexed, is this man crazy expression, you watched him roll up his sleeve and flex his bicep.

“Go ahead,” the boy grinned, “you’ll see.”

You made sure to roll your eyes and sigh incredibly loud in order to really establish your indifference. Meanwhile, your inner-self was fizzling like a carbonated soda. Grabbing onto Seungcheol’s muscle, you pressed down, forcing back a surprised chuckle at the fact his arm was hard as a rock. In that moment your meter of attraction toward the boy was ticking so absurdly you thought it could break.

“Okay, I’ll give it to you, Seungcheol. You’re strong.”

He tugged his sleeve back down and slid into the jacket again, a very brash smirk beaming on his face. You couldn’t decipher if he’d actually been attempting to impress you or if that was just a display of his cockiness. And yet, you didn’t really care which category it fell into, because you were still blissfully afloat thinking about Seungcheol’s arms. You lifted your drink and took another sip, swishing the sweet but tangy flavour between your cheeks. At that moment, a man you didn’t recognize attempted to scoot behind you – except there was definitely enough room for him to get by without planting his hands on your hips and squeezing them.

“Hey! What the hell?” You squeaked, quickly turning around on your heel to see the crookedly amused look he stared at you with.

“What?” He somehow had the audacity to respond.

But you weren’t going to accept his disgraceful maneuvers, and neither was Seungcheol. He abandoned his cup on the counter and pushed up his sleeves.

“Did you just put your hands on her?” Came his demand. It didn’t sound like the normal, relaxed Seungcheol who liked his jokes, but someone with an unnerving amount of authority and fearlessness.

“I-I was trying to get by.” The man stammered, clearly uncomfortable with the thought of confrontation. He was already stepping backward as Seungcheol approached him.

“Don’t touch other people like that,” Seungcheol admonished him in a deep, staid voice, then pointed toward the threshold of the kitchen, “just get out, man. Seriously. Don’t even go near her.” And like a saddened puppy who received a scolding from its owners to lay down in the pen, the man slinked away without another word.

You were unsure of what to say to Seungcheol for diminishing the situation. Folding your arms tightly, you nodded at him.

“Thanks.”

Wonwoo came wandering into the kitchen. His eyes brightened the moment he saw Seungcheol, and he rubbed his fingers together to wordlessly convey that he wanted his money now.

“It’s alright,” Seungcheol gave you a soft smile while he revealed a large wad of cash from his pocket, “he was a weirdo.”

“Yeah.” You laughed as Seungcheol handed the sum to his friend, who fleshed out the paper notes to count the correct amount.

It took you a moment to realize that Seungcheol’s arm had wrapped back around your shoulders, this time a bit more securely. When you leaned into him, it wasn’t because you felt a draft or a chill, but because he was comfortable. He felt and smelled like safety.

Later that night, you returned to the park, throwing stones into the duck pond while the moon was hidden behind a thin curtain of clouds. Seungcheol claimed that he could throw his stones farther than yours, which prompted your short-lived competition. It had ended so abruptly because you ran out of stones to throw. At one point you tried tossing sticks, but they didn’t travel as far, and they definitely didn’t break the surface of the water with a satisfying plop.

“Hey,” Seungcheol said, nudging your elbow excitedly, “I dare you to get in the pond.”

“No way!” You cackled. “It’s freezing. And that pond is nasty.”

“Just dip your toe in or something.”

“You dip your toe in!”

“I don’t wanna take off my socks.”

You huffed, a plume of your breath escaping into the crisp air.

“Well, we’re at a crossroads then, aren’t we?”

Rather than continue bickering about the dare, you were starting to feel these annoying hunger pangs. You didn’t eat dinner because of how nervous you were toward this fake date (which was rapidly morphing into a very real date) with Seungcheol. The most you ate today had been some toast and pieces of apple your roommate cut the night before. Directly on cue, your stomach gurgled, and your face swelled hot with embarrassment. Seungcheol grinned.

“Hungry?”

“Starving, more like.” You corrected him.

He pulled out the white fabric liners of his pockets, revealing they were completely empty. “All my cash went to Wonwoo.”

You flashed a playful smile while repeating his statement from earlier. “Oh, wow. Not being able to cover the meal on a first date? You’re not making a good impression, sweetheart.”

In an instant, Seungcheol had snatched your hand, interlocking your fingers together warmly. He began tugging you out of the park and onto a familiar street, where there was a twenty-four-hour diner that the students absolutely loved. Admittedly, you had been there a few times. Once as a giggly drunk who just wanted a waffle plate at three in the morning, and also as a struggling student who was desperate for a cup of coffee in order to power through a procrastinated essay. Now, it seemed you were returning for a date.

“I’ll pay you back, promise.” Seungcheol said as the server placed a nacho platter onto the table. “It’s my new priority.”

The diner was quiet and mostly empty apart from a group of three seated at another table. You didn’t realize just how hungry you were until that first taste of melted cheese, salsa, and seared chicken hit your mouth. Seungcheol didn’t like black olives, so he kept picking them off. You were eating too ravenously to inspect your food.

“You’re taking the olives off?” You smirked. “Baby.”

Seungcheol scoffed. “I am not a baby.” He looked up at you as he shoved another delicious chip in his mouth. “And I know it gives you some sick, twisted pleasure to say that. You should be ashamed.”

Nearly choking on the water you just sipped, you dropped the cup back on the table to cough a few times.

“You know what’s sick? The fact I’m paying.”

The boy reached for his glass of coca cola. “Yeah, but technically this isn’t a real date. So, doesn’t count.”

“Really?” Raising a questioned eyebrow, you watched Seungcheol take a long gulp from his drink. “Are you willing to say that with your entire chest? That this isn’t a real date?”

And in that moment, Seungcheol genuinely seemed to have met a stupor. In fact, there was a red tint dusting the crest of each his cheeks. He leaned back in the booth, folded his arms over his chest, and pursed his lips. You waited patiently for his response, lifting a nacho to your mouth while threads of cheese dangled in the air.

A smile broke through his stiff, musing expression.

“Okay,” he nodded his head, “maybe this is a real date,” (your heart impossibly fluttered), “you could be right about that.”

“I’m glad we’re on the same page.” You answered.

In truth, you couldn’t have been more delighted to hear Seungcheol agree, because if he hadn’t, you would have dined and dashed, fled straight out the restaurant in a haze of shame and embarrassment. In the span of just a few hours, your attraction toward this boy had impressively expanded like a sponge soaking up water. Before, you weren’t positive that he could be your true love. It was mostly a running joke between you and… well, yourself. However, this one night was proving that perhaps your joke could have some actual weight to it. And as Seungcheol continued to make you laugh, choke on your food, stare at him in complete adoration like he was a crowned jewel, you completely lost track of time.

It wasn’t until you burst into another frenzy of laughter at his story and spilt water all down your shirt that you finally checked your phone. Almost one in the morning. The server whisked your cutlery and plates away with a tired expression. You tipped generously, feeling rather guilty for creating such a racket at this hour.

“Do you want my jacket?” Seungcheol asked as you prepared to leave. There was a huge water stain soaking through your shirt.

“A-Are you sure?” You asked him, pulling a few strands of hair from your face. He nodded, already wrestling the jacket off.

“Go change, sweetheart,” Seungcheol told you so casually that you couldn’t hide this blatant look of surprise, “I’ll wait outside.”

Entering a washroom stall, you peeled the damp shirt over your head and folded it to pack nicely within your purse. You then slipped into Seungcheol’s jacket, which had this wonderful, warm fleece patched to the inside. It was soft against your bare skin, and it smelled like a fragrant hint of his cologne. After spending an extra moment freshening up at the sink, you wandered back into the cool night, where Seungcheol was leaning against a street pole. You weren’t sure if your eyes were playing tricks at the late hour, or if he’d actually given you a very smug, very relishing once-over.

Considering you had class early the next day, you asked Seungcheol if he’d be willing to walk you home. He obliged, and you paced together in comfortable silence until reaching the bridge. It arched over a swirling, gushing river which ran through the city, the current black as kohl and reflecting the lights of the nearby architecture. In the daytime this bridge wasn’t anything spectacular, but it was a beautiful vantage point during the night; a place to watch the city sparkle and flash like the cosmos.

“Hey,” Seungcheol whispered, grabbing your hand, “I have another dare for you, since you chickened out on the pond.”

You looked at the mischief compiling in his gaze. “What?”

“Climb up there.”

Seungcheol pointed toward a thick, metal beam that slanted upward, like a ramp. It flattened out at the top, and sometimes when you walked by during the day, there would be a few students sitting down after class, eating sandwiches or cracking open sodas. A placement of bars was set behind, only wide enough to stick your leg through. You glanced back at Seungcheol and nodded.

“Okay, fine.”

And so you began to climb up the slanted beam, feeling the breeze nip at your cheeks, your hair, like the smallest of kisses. At the flattened section, you turned around and looked down at Seungcheol, feeling like the empress of a powerful kingdom. His face ignited in the moonlight. He was smiling very wide as you stuck out your tongue.

“Easy. I dare you to climb up here.”

Seungcheol shook his head. “I, uh, can’t.”

“Why not?” You laughed, folding your arms. “Scared?”

“No, I just—I twisted my ankle, so I can’t.”

“When was that?”

“You weren’t looking.”

Rolling your eyes, you decided to tease him. Taking the zipper dangling from his jacket, you began to pull it down slowly, revealing a hidden amount of skin which turned the boy’s face an adorable pink.

“If you come up here, I’ll take the jacket all the way off.” You sang in a promiscuous tone, lifting up the strap of your bra and snapping it. Seungcheol grinned, cupping a hand over his gaze.

“No way. I’m not falling into a trap like that.”

“Fine,” you huffed, lowering to your butt and carefully scooting your way down the metallic beam, “you missed out.”

Seungcheol merely held his tongue; however, he did take the zipper on his jacket and pull it back up, right to your chin, hiding the expanse of flesh from the bright moonlight. You weren’t sure what courageous energy had just taken over your body. In fact, you’d probably regret such a thing by the time your alarm clock erupted tomorrow morning, pulling you from the pit of your sleep.

“I don’t want you getting cold.” He said. “And I can’t believe you nearly gave me a strip tease from the support beam of a bridge. That’s a first.”

“I’m just making sure you don’t forget this date.” You chuckled, half in nonsense, half in truth.

As he promised, Seungcheol walked you back to the house and made sure the door unlocked using the spare key under the letter box. Thankfully, your roommate left the lights of the front porch on, the bulbs now swathed in grey moths. It was a strange night. A night that wouldn’t have happened if not for the antics of Seungcheol and his two equally competitive friends. Maybe there was a positive side to burning Joshua’s chemistry notes, though you weren’t sure he’d be thrilled to hear you admit that. A game of I Dare You, turned into a fake date, turned into a real date, turned into a sweet affection.

You yawned, feeling the faint glisten of tears stretch in your eyes. “I had fun. And I guess I’ll see you tomorrow in toxicology.”

“With my jacket.” He reminded you.

“Yes, of course. With your jacket.”

And while you expected Seungcheol to simply bid his goodnight and perhaps take a late bus home, firing question after question of why he decided to accept such a stupid dare as he stared out the window, you were surprised when he reached for your hand.

“By the way,” he said, “I accept.”

You crinkled your nose. “Accept what?”

“The dare. I’ll buy you coffee every morning this week.”

“Oh!” There was a small flare crackling to life in your eyes as you recalled the original dare of the night. “That’s right. I forgot.”

“Yeah, I’ll do it.” Seungcheol agreed. He then squeezed your hand. “On the account of one very simple condition.”

“I don’t think you can do that. Doesn’t seem rule-abiding.”

The boy discarded your comment. Instead, his grasp became tighter around your hand. He pulled you swiftly into his chest and stared straight into your helpless, panicking eyes as though he were going to confess something profound and utterly dire.

He smirked. “I want you to kiss me each time.”

Seungcheol lifted his brow in anticipation of your response, which was an undoubted agreement. Probably the fastest, easiest agreement you had ever made in your life. He moved in close to your ear, whispering something about how you should meet at the café tomorrow morning and walk to the lecture hall together, though you were ultimately buzzing and experiencing such a bold heartbeat that you missed most of the details. When he pulled away, you smiled.

“That sounds good. I’ll see you tomorrow. Goodnight.”

Stepping off the porch, he turned back with a wave.

“Goodnight, sweetheart.”

✧✎ a/n: the reason i wanted to rewrite this fic was bc i still rly enjoy the concept. however, i cannot STAND my old style of writing, thus i decided to just rewrite the fic and appease the nagging in my head lol. this is how i would have written this fic today if i hadn’t already done so four years ago. i’m also questioning the possibility of rewriting love café for jeonghan (pls don’t go reading it if u haven’t already) but that would take much longer ,,,, JUST AN IDEA THOUGH. i hope you enjoyed!!

#seventeen scenarios #seungcheol scenarios #svt fanfic #seungcheol fanfic #choi seungcheol #s.coups scenario #svt fluff #seventeen fluff #seventeen imagines #scoups fluff #svt x reader #seungcheol x reader

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sugako · 3 years

Text

sweetness

osamu xf!baker!reader sum: your unrequited crush on the man you sell to is weighing heavily on you until one little party later it isn’t an issue cw: 18+ minors dni, a lil fluff, a lil angst (reader is sad bc they don't think samu feels the same), mentions of drinking/alcohol/party (no one is drunk during), kinda confessions, first time with each other, nipple play, oral (receiving) wc: 3.5k a/n: hi !! uhh i have had this is drafts for months bc i struggled to post it and idk why,, it's def a little longer than usual and little more plot-heavy(ish) but i hope you all enjoy pussy king samu <3

It felt as though you were admiring him from a distance even when he was standing right beside you.

The afternoon that the owner of Onigiri Miya had called up your small bakery to partner with his business you had been overjoyed. Honestly, you were still happy, it was just tinged by something deeper or different now. You were certainly still happy to sell your goods through the business, but your feelings had really gotten the better of you.

The day, actually the moment you met Osamu you told yourself to get over the petty crush you had developed within minutes of meeting him. His big, tall frame made you feel as though he could wrap his arms around you and everything would be okay. His pretty, steely eyes and soft features relaxed you, made you feel at home.

A week later you were groaning into your pillow when he texted a simple, polite compliment about your baked goods. Desperately, you hoped that the fuzzy feeling would melt away any day now.

Every single time you had to see him again and again to drop off your bi-weekly delivery, the feelings didn’t fade. If anything they grew stronger. The quick, comfortable banter you shared made your chest fill with molten gold that always seemed to harden into a tough little peach pit, strangling the words from your throat whenever you got back into your car.

A month later you were crying to yourself at 2 AM about how you couldn’t get over him even though you hadn’t even been close to a relationship. It was impossible. How were you supposed to get closure from someone you were merely business partners with.

You cursed the way your heart sped up when you got a new text from him. Over and over again you had to remind yourself that it was purely business.

Onigiri Miya (Osamu): Hi, do you want to swing by tomorrow? Lunch is on me

Fingers swiped over the keyboard, groaning as you asked what you should bring for the restock, not realizing it had been two weeks already.

Onigiri Miya (Osamu): Everything is selling fast, but I won’t need anything for a bit, just wanted to chat not about business

Without hesitation you agreed. Even if you were sure he didn’t feel the same, it wouldn’t hurt to keep up a personal relationship with a business. The fact that he had texted you deep into the night without prompt didn’t make it into your busy mind.

Those two little texts were how you found yourself taking a deep breath outside the Onigiri Miya a little after the lunch rush. You stepped into the nearly empty building, immediately greeted by Osamu’s soft, low voice.

“I have to run to the back, but I put a plate for you out.” He calls, disappearing just as the door closes behind you.

It’s painful to admit how your heart swells at the gesture. Your favorite onigiri of his is neatly plated in front of a corner seat at the bar. The two other people on the opposite side of the store are quietly chatting, paying no mind while you settle into your seat. Before you can take a bite he’s bustling back in.

“Sorry ‘bout that, got a call.” He says, leaning over the counter in front of you. The way his broad chest is squished by his shoulders.

“No worries.” You say just before biting into the food. He snatches one of the rice balls from your plate, but your mouth is too full and you’re too grateful to protest. “So,” you begin after you swallow, “what did you want to talk about?”

You can’t tell whether the air is thick with awkward tension or if it’s just you.

“I mean, obviously not business.” As you speak, a strangled, little chuckled forces its way out of the back of your throat, but you take another bite of food before it gets out of hand.

He’s silent for a moment, slowly chewing his food. Maybe savoring it or maybe thinking, you can’t quite tell which.

“Can you take nights off from the bakery? I remember you saying ya do a lot of baking and prepping at night.” His expression is impossible to read and you want to tell him that this is, at least for you, business talk, but you hold back and simply answer the question.

“Well, yeah, if I needed to. Uh, why?” You catch how his shoulders tense and lower, his eyes shifting across the windows in the front. Unfortunately, his own anxiety does very little to quell any of your own.

“My brother is having a party and I’m… obligated to go, but I won’t know many people there, they’ll all be his teammates, so I was wondering if you would like to go with me? If you don’t have a… I mean, if you don’t have any plans.” His expression remains still, but there’s a small flush in his cheeks that you catch on immediately. Something in your heart softens with hope.

“You’re twin volleyball brother?” You ask, biting back a smile. “Also, you’ll have to tell me what time the party is and then I’ll let you know if I have plans, but I’m probably free.”

The flush deepens as he recognizes his mistake and slowly blinks, shaking his head. “Yes, ‘Tsumu, the volleyball brother. And the party is next Friday. Around nine.”

Within the limited time you’d spent with him he’d told you about his brother and his old friends. Confidence growing, but not quite steady, you uneasily treaded into your next words.

“Yeah, I’m not working next Friday actually, so that sounds good. Should I text you for the address or…?”

“Meet me here, I can take you. Best to take the train, but it’ll be easier if we go together.”

Deep in the center of the city, standing close enough to smell the soft fragrance of cologne, you still weren’t sure how easily you had ended up here at the house party filled with strangers hosted by your customer’s pro athlete brother. It was a little much to think about if you took too much pause. Before you could slip into your own brain too much your cheek smushed into the thick muscle of Osamu’s solid back that had suddenly stopped moving, and as you sputtered out an apology the door swung open without him even knocking.

“Hey! Did you really not a-” The blonde mirror image of the man standing directly in front of you eats whatever words are about to spill out of his mouth when he notices you peeking out from beside Osamu. Realizing how ridiculously childish you must look tucked away behind him, you clear your throat and step out so you’re by his side instead.

“Hi, I’m y/n.” You say politely, extending a hand for him to shake. Atsumu’s eyes flit between you and his brother, not bothering to hide a smirk.

“Oh, I know.” He finally says when he takes your hand. Out of sheer embarrassment or maybe anxiety, you feel pricks of heat chase out to your fingertips. The sensation is only compounded by Osamu’s feather-light touch that grazes the small of your back as he tries to lead you past his brother.

“Really,” you start, with a sly little smile, “he’s told me about you’re very impressive-”

“Okay.” Osamu says a little too sharply. He’s glad you’re at ease, but less glad that you’ve immediately taken to lightly teasing him with his brother. “Let’s head in.” The warm breath of his whisper jolts through you and you find yourself nodding, letting his touch lead you.

Just as the door is closing behind you and the excruciating reverb of the music seeps into your ears, you barely catch what Atsumu mumbles before he slips into the crowd of people. “Maybe you’ll finally show her how much ya like her.”

Osamu doesn’t respond, and for a second you think maybe he didn’t hear him, but the way his fingers dig into your back tells you otherwise. You simply pretend that you heard nothing, pointing to the drink dispensers lined up on the kitchen counter across the room. After a quick drink of the sweet, burning mystery drink and after Atsumu started to keep his distance - too busy hounding his one teammate with the dark curls whose name you couldn’t quite remember - things went smoothly.

Time passed quickly, helped on by the dozens of new people you were introduced to. The small talk and repetitive questions had you mentally winded, but Osamu’s constant touch whether on your elbow or back or shoulder grounded you. Instead of feeling your heart race as it usually did when he was near, you only felt calm.

It all came crashing down sometime deep into the night when most of the guests had headed home and those left over passed out, scattered everywhere about the house. Well, everywhere aside from the neat guest bedroom tucked away toward the back that Osamu had pulled you back to when the last man (who had drunkenly tried teaching you how to say ‘volleyball’ in Portuguese) had finally passed out.

The single drink you had gulped down hours ago was long gone from your system, but even without it you still found it easy to speak with him, even as his arms inconspicuously wrapped around your torso and brought you down to lie beside him on the bed. Staring up at the ceiling for a moment while the two of you remained in short silence, a thought came to your head, another thing you want to tell him or ask him. You’re not sure which because in the next moment, when you whip your head to face him, he does the same.

If you had been any closer your faces would’ve smashed together. Any farther away and you wouldn’t be brushing lips. Just as soon as the touch begins, it ends with you scrambling away, stopped from falling off the bed by his strong arm wrapping around and pulling you back to his chest. The silence thickens with every second that neither of you speak, but he thankfully breaks it within the minute.

The words fumble around the front of your mouth like your mouth is numb. “I’m so sorry that-!”

“Well, that wasn’t really a proper kiss.” He says plainly, a smile barely etching its way onto the corner of his lips.

“N-no, it was not.” You whisper. It doesn’t quite feel real when he kisses you for real, and for a second you’re worried you’ve deluded yourself. You sigh into his firm touch, finally releasing the tension in your chest and letting your own lightly trembling hands trace up the space between your chests to settle against his. His body is softer than you had thought it would feel, somehow so much more comforting and homey than you could have imagined.

After an endless moment, his mouth strains against yours as he forces himself to pull away with a little huff. Your eyes find his, bright and hopeful, and still a little bit surprised. Between all your personal longing and resignation that he didn’t feel the same, you hadn’t noticed the way he smiled more when you were nearby, the little blush that dusted his cheeks when you complimented his cooking that first time, and so much more.

“Wanted to do that for a long time.” He sighs, leaning his forehead against yours and letting his heavy eyes close. Hiding your grin in his chest, you nod, wrapping your arms around him and snuggling in closer. When your knee glides against his thigh in an attempt to get more comfortable and flush to him, he clears his throat. “We should get changed if we’re going to sleep here. I have extra clothes in the dresser.”

“Okay.” You nod slightly, not wanting to move just yet. He seems to be with you because, despite his own words, he remains exactly in place with his grip just as tight as ever around your waist. “...Samu?” You finally ask, pulling back far enough to look up at him.

“I wanna kiss you again.”

“Okay,” you repeat, “then kiss me again.” The crooked, giddy smile you’re giving him seems to tense him up even more.

He inhales deeply through his nose, eyes darkening as they flicker across the planes of your face. “I wanna, but I don’t want to push this unless you feel the same.”

If your tired heart could vibrate any harder it would probably be bursting out of your chest.

“Well, I feel that we should kiss again,” you press a peck to his cheek hoping it’ll steady your next vulnerable words, “because I’ve thought about you a lot, and I really like this.” You emphasize your words by glancing down at the negative space between your bodies and running your hand up the built expanse of his shoulders.

Humming, he cradles the back of your head, gracefully moving to straddle you and ghost his lips over yours. “In that case, tell me when to stop.” The hot breathy fan of air from his whisper barely hits your cheeks before he’s pressing a deep kiss against your lips.

You slot together like perfect puzzle pieces, limbs finding the just the right spots to fit into. Mouths move desperately, passionately and without thinking your fingers start dancing under the hem of his shirt, brushing against the hot skin beneath. With a tempered groan, he uncouples his lips from yours, kissing along your jaw and quickly moving to trace down your neck. The kitten nips and licks against your collarbone send electricity through your bones, forcing you to flex into him, hips awkwardly jutting forward for something more.

“You… you, ah, are so perfect.” You pant, eyes blinking wide open when the calloused tips of his fingers roughly trail under your shirt, up your sides, stopping just short of your chest to flip your shirt up.

Groaning so quietly you barely hear him, he buries himself between your breasts and sighs against your skin. “Yer even more beautiful up close and without all this,” he pauses for the briefest moment to undo your bra and lift it over your head with the shirt, “extra stuff on.”

Scoffing out a short giggle, you relax back, watching how his eyes drink you in as though they’ve been starved. “By extra stuff you mea-!” The quip is promptly cut off by the feeling of his mouth latching around one breast, the other being tended to by his opposite hand. Not a moment later he pulls away, smiling as you let out a pitchy whine.

“Yer pretty mouthy when yer comfortable, huh?” He mumbles, lips ghosting over your nipple while the one in his hand continues to be teased.

“N-no,” you rush to disagree. Judging by the eye roll he gives you, he doesn’t seem to believe you, but he doesn’t say anything more, simply bringing his attention back to your chest.

The way his suckles tiny, bright purple marks into your skin sends heat pooling into your stomach, hips noticeably grinding up against him now. As the seconds drag on, he doesn’t seem interested in anything other than your tits, enamored with the way they feel in his hand and mouth. It’s almost too much, and you feel your stomach tightening with every moment the teasing continues.

“Samu,” you whine softly, “samu, please, can’t s’too much, really need…” The words are jumbled and garbled. You can’t quite sort your brain to come up with anything coherent, distracted by the wet pooling in your underwear and the weight of his body crowding over yours.

“Sensitive tits?” He coos with a sharp glint in his eyes, gears obviously moving in his head for the future. “That’s okay,” he continues while pressing a soft kiss to each of your breasts, “What do you really need?”

“Need you to touch me.”

For a second, his mouth opens but he doesn’t speak. You fear he’s going to tease you, make you explain in lewd detail how bad you need him and where you want him to touch you, but he doesn’t. He simply nods, truthfully too caught up in the intoxicating feeling of your body and too impatient to feel you for the first time to drag this out.

“Good girl, I’m gonna take these off.” He starts, hooking his fingers under the waistband of your pants and underwear to take them off together. Without hesitation, his eyes travel between your legs. “Such a pretty, little cunt.” He hums already squeezing in between your thighs. Obviously distracted, he peppers little kissed up the sensitive skin on the inside of your thighs, still caught up staring at your soaking mess.

“Samu, please…” You whine. While you know he isn’t purposefully teasing, well you don’t know but you don’t think at least, it’s just as frustrating. Your knees lock around his thick shoulders, pulling him closer to your heat.

“Okay, okay, pretty girl.” He grumbles, lapping right at the crook of your thigh and hip. There’s a split second of tense silence wherein he carefully spread your lips admiring the glisten of your slick under the dim light of the lamp. Your entire body is tense with anticipation, legs shaking as they struggled to spread around his wide frame.

And just like that quiet moment is over - he laps you up so desperately and greedily you’re twitching under his grasp, clawing at the wrinkled bed sheets below you for anything to ground you. He doesn’t stop when he shifts your legs over his shoulders and wraps his hands around the bottom of your tummy to keep your jostling hips in place.

When you finally look back down to grab his hand, keeping a vice grip around his fingers, you also glance down for the first time. His dark, hazy eyes meet yours and you completely relax at last.

The feeling doesn’t last long, not when he pushes his tongue into your tight, unprepared hole, slurping all he can get and pushing in as far as he can go. Osamu’s eyes roll to the back of his head at the sensation, your cum dribbling down his chin and coating up to his nose that keeps brushing against your throbbing clit.

With a solid, squelching pop he tears away from you. “Taste so good,” he heaves, lips coming back even as he’s speaking, ghosting over you. He buries himself in your cunt again, this time focusing solely on your clit, cycling through different motions until he finds the one that makes your hips strain under his sturdy hold.

“Feel so good!” You sigh. “Please, please wanna cum.”

Smirking against you, he takes the hand you’re not clinging to back under your thigh and props it against your ass, slowly teasing a finger in. Absolutely gushing now, it slips in easily. You can feel his smile grow again for a moment before he refocuses on your clit, motions speeding up and increasing the pressure with which he worked. It’s impossible to not shudder under him now, especially with one arm only holding you down.

“C’mon, pretty girl, cum.” He murmurs, easily hooking a second finger into you, pumping and curling them in time with his tongue. As he feels you flutter and cream he can’t help but rut into the mattress, cock swelling from the taste of you. The pressure inside is too much and your want to let go is pushing you closer and closer, although it’s his mouth and fingers that really push you forward.

“C-cu-!” The words get trapped in your throat, overtaken by a hushed moan you struggle to bite back, trying - but very much failing - to be mindful of all the half-sleeping people strewn through the house. He slowly brings you down, fingers winding down and tongue lapping up your swollen clit while you convulse at his touch in time with the fluttering of your cunt.

At last, you have to drag him off, needily tugging up on his hands until he lets go. You try to pull him in to kiss, but he hesitates, his strength far outweighing your weak, blissful one and he hovers above you. There’s no reason to ask because almost immediately his fingers that were inside of you, absolutely drenched, come up to his mouth so he can make a show of sucking them dry for you.

“Taste even better than the stuff you make.” He sighs, letting you drag him down to your face. You can smell and taste yourself so strongly on his damp lips, it clouds your already hazy senses.

“Hmm,” you manage out, when he rests his entire body weight against yours, lips pressed into the side of your head. It’s only when you go to shift that you feel him pressing so incredibly hard and flush to you exposed skin through his soft pants, that you perk up. “Samu,” you begin brushing your fingers through his soft, dark hair, “can I...wanna help you.”

“Mhmm,” he nestles against your neck, kissing over the spots he left behind earlier, “in a minute, pretty girl, we have a lot of time ahead of us.”

#osamu x reader #miya osamu x reader #osamu miya x reader #osamu smut #miya osamu smut #osamu miya smut #hq smut

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shelobussy · 3 years

Note

Ohmygod YES Susan Pevensie is awesome please talk to me about Susan i want to know everything you have to say

Literally THANK YOU for asking me this bc Susan Pevensie is a character I never get asked about and I have So Many Opinions.

I'm going to start by saying that Susan used to be my least favorite character in the series. This goes for the books and the movies. Some of it was for personal reasons--she reminds me of a couple of annoying ppl I know irl--but it was also bc I watched Prince Caspian which shoehorned her into a relationship with Caspian which I hated.

HOWEVER. I ended up rethinking this position after interacting with Susan fans and realizing that there are so many wonderful things to love about her!

(putting under the cut bc this got long)

Things Ash Loves About Susan Pevensie

Aight I'm not going to do a formal analysis yet on her, but instead rant about some of the unrelated things I adore about Susan Pevensie.

Susan the Archer

Look we all love archery here. I don't have anything more to say.

Okay, I actually do have more to say. I love the fact that Susan is a complete badass with the bow. You get the general impression that she's one of the royals in charge of public relations, traditions, foreign policy, etc. and yet she's the most competent archer in the series. One of the few things I liked about the movies is how they didn't downplay this. They actually let her be a badass and show off her skills.

Also the part where she kicks Trumpkin's ass was awesome.

Susan the Gentle

Susan being the most passive Pevensie was something I definitely underappreciated as a teenager. I think my non-ability to see past "I'm not like other girls" narrative and the combination of Susan being described as the most traditionally feminine woman in the Narnia series is what initially turned me off from her.

HOWEVER, now it's one of my favorite attributes! I love that Susan is a badass and the most beautiful woman in Narnia. She has hair down to her feet, every man and woman in the kingdom want to fuck her, and she's still a fucking badass who will not hesitate to kick your ass.

Susan the Sister

Most of my thoughts of Susan as an older sister mostly stem from my own personal headcanons, but she is an awesome sister to her siblings. She's Peter's voice of reason, Edmund's sass partner, and Lucy's big sister.

Susan the Mom-Friend

She is a literal mother-figure for Corin.

"[...] the most beautiful lady he had ever seen rose from her place and threw her arms round him and kissed him, saying: "Oh Corin, Corin, how could you? And thou and I such close friends ever since thy mother died. [...]"

-The Horse and His Boy, 33-34

Most everything I have to say about this ventures into headcanon territory, but I love the idea of Susan basically adopting Corin after his mom dies. The way she trusts Cor--who she thinks is Corin in this chapter--is really sweet and I wish we could've seen more of that relationship.

Susan the Flawed

Something I notice from the fandom is a lot of people who hate Susan tend to because of her flaws. On the other hand, most Susan stans like to wave away these flaws and blame C.S. Lewis for being misogynistic or Aslan for being a "cruel god" and ignore the fact that she is a deeply flawed person.

Susan gets something of a "reverse redemption arc" in The Chronicles of Narnia. This makes her not only a fascinating foil to Edmund--as both are analytical, logical people--but an interesting character by herself.

She starts out in TWW as very skeptical of Narnia and it's whole deal and also very condescending to Lucy throughout. She ultimately does admit that Lucy was right and does get on board with the whole prophecy at the same time Peter does, and ends the book being crowned "the Gentle Queen."

In The Horse and His Boy, she has a very interesting dynamic with Edmund and in even more interesting relationship with Rabadash. They don't even interact on-page with each other, but it's highly implied that she was interested in him when he was a guest in Narnia. His behavior obviously changed when she visited him in Tashbaan, but you have to wonder what their dynamic was like before for her to travel all the way to his home when relations between the countries were strained at best.

Prince Caspian is where the cracks start showing through. Susan has lived an entire life as an adult in Narnia, gets thrown back to England with her siblings, and is yet again in Narnia as a child. This book is what really emphasizes her one fatal flaw: convenience.

(Put a pin in that thought, I'll get back to it.)

Susan denies once again that Lucy saw something that the rest of them can't seen. She continues this narrative until every other sibling finally acknowledges Lucy in the right and only then does she apologize.

The last mention of Susan is in The Last Battle, where all of her flaws rise up against her in the worst way possible. I have a lot of controversial opinions on this that I'm going to address later, but I just want to say that Susan's reverse-redemption arc is something I actually like about her.

(There is also evidence that Susan does get a full redemption arc, just as Edmund and Eustace did, but C.S. Lewis was pretty much done with The Chronicles of Narnia at the point and instead encouraged fans to write their own version of how that went down.)

Okay, back to convenience being Susan's fatal flaw. So the one thing that comes up time and time again in the series is that Susan is very focused on material comforts. I believe it's implied that she's vain, and it's canonical that her own personal comfort spurs her to make decisions.

"[...] I really believed it was him — he, I mean — yesterday. When he warned us not to go down to the fir wood. And I really believed it was him tonight, when you woke us up. I mean, deep down inside. Or I could have, if I'd let myself. But I just wanted to get out of the woods and — and — oh, I don't know [...]"

Prince Caspian, 81

Prince Caspian has the strongest examples of Susan doing this, but certainly there's evidence elsewhere. There are a lot of fans who are distressed by this, claiming that Aslan and the others are too hard on her and shouldn't judge.

Honestly, I like that she's written with this flaw. Not only is it very relatable--(my own personal comfort and convenience is something I highly prioritize too)--but it humanizes a character who otherwise is ridiculously op and basically the Helen of Troy of the series. It may sound like I'm using this as an excuse to rant, but I really wouldn't have her any other way.

Susan As Portrayed by Anna Popplewell

Movie!Susan is a fucking delight.

She's sarcastic and badass and awesome and I could spend hours heaping praise on Anna's acting and her portrayal of Susan, but I can already tell that this post is going to be long so, I'll just stop here.

(10/10 want to be stabbed by her tho.)

Personal Headcanons

Let's talk about my fanon thoughts. I have many.

Susan is Aro

There's canonical evidence for this! Susan is a character who is heavily pursued by suitors everywhere, and even lets herself be courted by many of them, but chooses not to settle down. Even when she gets back to England and is described as only having interest in parties and material things, boys aren't mentioned.

I like to think that in The Horse in His Boy Susan was interested in Rabadash at first because he was a brilliant conversationalist. Nothing she says about him implies romantic interest, before and after she realizes the truth of his intentions.

Susan and Edmund Were Best Friends

This might be my love for The Horse and His Boy showing itself, but I think Susan and Edmund were thrown into circumstances where they interacted the most with each other.

Edmund is the ruler in charge of politics. Susan is the ruler in charge of Cair Paravel's public image. I imagine they spent time as ambassadors to other countries and planning royal functions.

They're also the most level-headed and logical out of their siblings, so they probably found a lot in common.

Susan Fancast

I literally just said I loved Anna's potrayal of Susan's (and I love what they gave us of older Susan too in LWW!), but I read the books in 2008 and my parents didn't let me see the movies bc I was like...nine years old and they thought it would be too scary.

So I had to headcanon my own interpretations.

Queen Susan the Gentle:

For some reason Merlin wasn't too scary for me to watch and I fell in love with Katie McGrath in like. Two episodes so. (On an unrelated note, I also fancast Bradley James as Peter at the time.)

Anyway, fanon Susan is basically Morgana Pendragon pre-evil arc. Sassy as hell, hot as fuck, and can kick your ass.

Unpopular Opinions

Yeah, feel free to skip this part if having controversial fandom opinions is a deal breaker for you.

The Problem With Susan Isn't Actually A Problem

I'm about to start so much discourse in the Narnia fandom, but C.S. Lewis's choices with her in The Last Battle weren't misogynistic. Bear in mind, I'm not saying that all of his writing choices in the series were A++ or excusing away certain racist/sexiest bits, but it's honestly baffling to me that people are so up in arms over Susan's exclusion in the final book.

So the part that everyone loses their shit over is as follows:

"My sister Susan," answered Peter shortly and gravely, "is no longer a friend of Narnia."

"Yes," said Eustace, "and whenever you've tried to get her to come and talk about Narnia or do anything about Narnia, she says 'What wonderful memories you have! Fancy your still thinking about all those funny games we used to play when we were children.'"

"Oh Susan!" said Jill, "she's interested in nothing now-a-days except nylons and lipstick and invitations. She always was a jolly sight too keen on being grown-up."

"Grown-up, indeed," said the Lady Polly. "I wish she would grow up. She wasted all her school time wanting to be the age she is now, and she'll waste all the rest of her life trying to stay that age. Her whole idea is to race on to the silliest time of one's life as quick as she can and then stop there as long as she can."

The Last Battle, 83-84

There's a lot to unpack here and I first want to say that everyone's opinion on this part, no matter how different than mine, is valid. I'm going to be quoting some other ppl's opinions on here and by no means am I bashing them. I just want to address my feelings on the matter and the best way to do that is to cite the thoughts of ppl who have opposing ideas.

Here are some arguments on Tumblr I've heard regarding "The Problem of Susan":

"How about we talk about what might have happened if Narnia hadn't deserted Susan? [...] What if we didn't tell Susan she had to go grow up in her own world and then shame and punish her for doing just that? She was told to walk away and she went. She did not try to stay a child all her life, wishing for something she had been told she couldn't have again."

"Narnia is filled with metaphors (often not very subtle ones) that are supposed to teach us how to be, and the most glaring one for any young girl to absorb is that it's okay to be a girl like Lucy, unthreatening and cheerful and valiant and faithful, but to be a girl like Susan gets you punished - in fact, you aren't just punished, you're destroyed."

"why do we call it ‘the problem’ where’s the problem about a young woman dealing with her trauma and choosing her own path, actively making the choice to keep living and to stay and to carve a life out in England when her siblings couldn’t? what is the problem about susan forgetting to somehow cope with what she’s experienced? why is it ‘the problem of susan’ that she recontextualised her faith?"

And then there's JK Rowling who said this:

There comes a point where Susan, who was the older girl, is lost to Narnia because she becomes interested in lipstick. She's become irreligious basically because she found sex. I have a big problem with that.

It's weird how I'm still finding new ways to hate JKR in the year 2021. Again, there is absolutely zero implication that Susan had sex when she came back to England. ZERO. Did she actually read the books? IDK. If someone shares this opinion pls reply with actual canonical evidence.

Back on topic, I'm a firm believer of death of the author and interpreting art via your own experiences. Which is why I'm also going to share my own interpretation by saying y'all are wrong.

Susan Pevensie was not abandoned by Narnia. She was not barred from Narnia because she is traditionally feminine or because she "owned her sexuality" (another opinion I didn't have time to condense down for this post) or because she recontextualized her faith or even because she deserved to be punished.

I also fail to see how Susan recontexualized her faith, as the entire point of it all is that she has none. Bringing this back to Susan's fatal flaw (personal convenience/material comforts), her prioritizing herself over her own faith is the reason she is "no longer a friend of Narnia." Not...whatever fanon y'all are imposing on her character.

Susan is not being punished for liking lipstick and looking pretty. Susan's not even being punished. Y'all read Neil Gaiman's The Problem of Susan and forgot it wasn't canon.

There are many reasons Susan is not in Aslan's Country (one of them being that she's not actually dead yet), but the main one has to do with this:

"[...] But there I have another name. You must learn to know me by that name. This was the very reason why you were brought to Narnia, that by knowing me here for a little, you may know me better there.”

Voyage of the Dawn Treader, 215-216

Yeah, okay that's why Susan is no longer a friend of Narnia. The implication when the Pevensies are told that they can no longer enter Narnia is that they are to find Aslan in other places. Susan doesn't do this, instead choosing to focus her life on material things. It isn't the lipstick, it's that she only wants the lipstick.

Susan Had Sex In The Books

Oh and not in the context y'all are thinking. (Again, there are no implications that Susan was barred from Narnia for having sex or that she had sex when she came back to England.)

So there's actual canonical evidence that Susan and Rabadash had a sexual relationship. Sort of.

"What think you? We have been in this city fully three weeks. Have you yet settled in your mind whether you will marry this dark-faced lover of yours, this Prince Rabadash, or no?"

-The Horse and His Boy, 35

Edmund calls Rabadash her lover. Not her suitor. I don't know if the word had a different meaning in 1954, but it feels like C.S. Lewis is saying that they're fucking. I'm not really happy with the idea of Susan sleeping with an abuser, but really proud of her for Getting Some as a woman born in a time period where having premarital sex was a big no-no.

This also invalidates the weird opinion going on that Susan was barred from Narnia because she had sex.

Suspian Is The Worst

I haven't really talked about Movie!Susan much, but as long as we're talking unpopular opinions, it's worth noting that I hate Suspian. Some of it is the "Susan is Aro" headcanon screaming inside of me, but it's also the fact that it's written poorly, does nothing interesting for either character and generally comes across as awkward.

I feel like they were trying to make Prince Caspian sexy and relevant to teens. It came across as super heteronormative and unnecessary.

It also gets really really weird bc the next movie then gives Caspian and Edmund mad chemistry and we're all just like........ok.

Final Thoughts

Susan may not be my favorite character in the series, but she's grown on me over the years. I have many issues with fanon interpretations of her--which definately fueled some of my disdain for her initally--and I don't identify as a Susan Apologist.

I do however adore Susan and have many headcanons for her not mentioned here. I love reading fanfic, writing fanfic and meta, and generally having conversations about her and would love to talk more about it.

I welcome criticism (CONSTRUCTIVE) and conversation on all of my opinions and observations. Please drop into my inbox. <3

#susan pevensie #the chronicles of narnia #the problem of susan #narnia #meta #narnia meta #susan meta #ash does fandom #ash does meta

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curiosity-killed · 3 years

Text

sunbeam flaring

hair...healing...thoughts...?? They’re Dumbasses, Ur Honor

(title stolen from Love Sonnet XI by Neruda bc I had litcherally no idea what to call it)

word count: 2354

He notices it on a perfectly ordinary afternoon two weeks before Callebero’s twenty-second birthday. Inasmuch as the captain of the imperial cavalry has such a thing, it’s Sirion’s day off; he sleeps in, waking only briefly when Callebero extricates himself and presses a kiss to his cheek and then dozing until the sun is two fingers above the horizon. His morning is slow and indulgent; breakfast with Regent Aquios, who insists he call her by her first name despite the way he shies from such familiarity, followed by a few hours catching up on the paperwork and correspondence that has piled up in his office lately. Now, he pauses in the middle of running forms with Mikolan as Callebero crosses the gardens. He’s dressed formally today, in those heavy layers he hates and which always draw Sirion’s eyes to his narrow waist and the broad strength of his shoulders. An older retainer walks at his side, mirroring his frown, but it’s not their conversation that catches Sirion’s attention.

Callebero’s hair has been pulled back from the front, the long tail tucked into a neat bun that’s secured by a gold band. A spider’s-silk thread of jewels drips in a loop below it. Beneath it, the rest of his hair forms a short curtain falling just below his ear. The end of a staff taps him on the top of his head. “Stop gawking. We already know you and the imperator have turned the palace to your love nest, but you don’t have to be so obvious,” Mikolan scolds. “That is not—” Sirion starts to sign before huffing out a breath and giving up. Once she recovered from the initial shock of Valyn’s treachery and Callebero’s return, Mikolan had thrown herself gleefully into teasing him about their relationship. So far, she is still too mindful of place to say anything to Callebero, but she has taken full credit for them meeting and has not missed a single opportunity to remind Sirion of his early impressions of Callebero. There’s no point fighting such a losing battle, so he turns back to their practice and stows that startled notice away for later contemplation. It’s not like he’s unaware of it. He’d noticed Callebero scratching the back of his head with the end of a reed pen when his hair was little more than rabbit-fur fuzz, and Sirion has combed his fingers through both the long tail of his crown and the shorter locks just growing out. It’s just—he hasn’t thought about it. That night, curled close around each other with their legs tangled, Sirion skates his fingers through Callebero’s hair and tries to order his own thoughts. There’s a sharp division between the thick, downy underlayer and the longer half, sleek and silken. A fiercely selfish part of Sirion is grateful he never saw Callebero’s hair hacked short. He thinks he might have killed whoever held the blade. “I know, it’s ridiculous,” Callebero mumbles from where his face is smashed partially into the pillow and partially into Sirion’s left arm. Canting his head, Sirion shakes his fingers gently out of his hair and taps Callebero’s shoulder twice in the negative. Callebero shifts so that half his face is unburied and squints blearily up at Sirion. He’s not sure what all happened today, but Jisel had been clearly nursing a headache throughout dinner and Callebero had collapsed face first onto their bed before removing his crown or hairpieces. He’d muttered something about doing away with all laws and ceding absolute power to Jisel, to which Sirion had reasonably pointed out that she would kill him herself if he did such a thing. Groaning, Callebero had smashed his face into the pillow and muttered a string of curses that made even Sirion’s brows lift. “It is nice,” Sirion signs now. “I liked how you had it today.” Callebero squints at him, brow wrinkling as if in complete bafflement. “You may be a once-in-a-generation commander,” he says finally, “but your taste in men remains questionable.” Rolling his eyes, Sirion flicks his shoulder. “Say it again, and I’ll bite you,” he warns. For a moment, Callebero stares at him in open confusion, his lips parted around words that don’t escape beyond a faint squeak. Then, he breaks into laughter and reaches up to drag Sirion down and kiss him. “So much for my protector,” he teases. Sirion arches his eyebrows. “Jisel would say the same,” he retorts. “I can assure you Jisel would never bite me,” Callebero rejoins with a laugh. Rolling them over so that he can drape himself across Callebero’s chest and free his left arm, Sirion shakes his head. Callebero allows the shift comfortably, curling his arm around Sirion’s side to trace slow strokes up and down his back. Despite his earlier exhaustion, he’s bright-eyed now and smiles up at Sirion. “Only because she would be better prepared,” Sirion replies. At that, Callebero only breathes out a soft laugh and tilts his head to one side in apparent concession. “Very well, Commander,” he teases. “I solemnly swear not to doubt your taste in romantic partners ever again.” He leans in when Sirion presses a kiss to his lips and hums in pleasure when Sirion nips his bottom lip. “I don’t know how anyone thinks you’re such a solemn and decorous leader,” Sirion gripes. Callebero yawns and wiggles his shoulders in a mix of a shrug and an effort to nestle down into the mattress. Easing off him, Sirion settles back at his side with his arm draped over Callebero’s waist. His sleeping robes are warm and creased from being pressed so close between them, and Sirion can feel his own body slipping closer to sleep. “Mm,” Callebero hums. “It helps that I mostly keep my mouth shut.” Sirion can’t help breathing out a laugh at that, shaking his head. Like many, his first impression of Callebero had been a silent one—and at the time, Sirion had read that as cool haughtiness much as many visitors did. Laying such an image over the Callebero he now knows seems laughable, but he knows he’s one of only a few who can claim such familiarity. Under his arm, Callebero’s belly tenses with a quiet laugh. He prods Sirion in the ribs. “It worked on you, after all,” he teases. Mikolan’s incessant teasing rises to Sirion’s mind, and he shakes his head. Callebero grins. “You thought I was a brat,” he says, unreasonably gleeful. “I”—Sirion starts and then stops short, because that is true—“changed my mind.” Callebero snorts, graceless, and wriggles out from Sirion just enough to smother the candle on the side table. With only the moonlight left spilling blue through the cracks in the shutters, the room is ink-dark and it takes a few moments for his eyes to adjust. “It took me kicking your ass to change your mind,” Callebero retorts. “It was a draw,” Sirion signs. “I laid you out, love.” There’s laughter in Callebero’s voice as he speaks, and Sirion finds amusement battling down the old wound to his pride. He can still picture the staff end hovering right before his nose, Callebero’s careless, bright grin on the other end. He hadn’t fallen in love in that moment, but it had been a shift—a sudden, bracing change like dunking into cold water on a summer day. “You had the element of surprise,” he still insists. “Mm,” Callebero hums doubtfully. “I could still take you.” Narrowing his eyes, Sirion squints at him in the darkness. It’s absurd. They’re both grown men with more accolades than most families have in three generations. They’ve each emerged from three wars and a coup with honors and scars to prove their valor. There is no reason to quibble over an old sparring match. “Could not,” he signs anyway. Callebero’s laughter is more of a hot brush of air against Sirion’s skin than a sound, and he squeezes him once. “I suppose we’re due for a rematch then,” he says, the words briefly warped around a yawn. “Ah maybe next week?” Sirion hums and drops his head to Callebero’s shoulder, hooking his ankle around his calf. “For your birthday,” he signs, and Callebero laughs. Jisel catches on quickly, of course. On the third day of Regent Batu’s visit, they duck away with a pot of tea in the far corner of the library where only Callebero ever thinks to look. If anyone asks, they aren’t hiding. It’s simply a convenient location to get some work done while the visiting gentry fill the palace with gossip and traveling parties and more gifts than any single person has ever needed. For the most part, Sirion looks on all the pomp and frivolity with amusement. All these rich nobles falling over themselves to litter Callebero with gilt and gems as if they could win his favor with enough gold. And, selfishly, part of Sirion likes that none of their piled gifts will never match what Callebero actually wants. A toothed satisfaction runs through him at the futility of their sycophancy. “If Jemma catches you gawking at his hair one more time, I think she might combust,” Jisel remarks. Rolling his eyes, Sirion glances up from the report he’s been reading to shoot her a glare. Over the last year and a half, it has become apparent that Jemma doesn’t quite know how to handle he and Callebero being partners and seems stuck vacillating between threatening Sirion should he ever hurt Callebero and lecturing Callebero on valuing Sirion enough. Hayalen has spent most of it laughing at both her wife and the two of them. “I do not gawk,” Sirion retorts now. Jisel raises her eyebrows, hiding her smile behind her teacup, and he can feel heat suffusing his cheeks. Huffing out a breath, he leans back in his chair. “It’s not”—he stops, pressing his lips into a seam in frustration before sighing—“I’m just not used to it.” Humming faintly, Jisel lowers her cup to cradle between her hands and runs a fingertip back and forth over the lip. “I did the same when Kieran came back from Jimar,” she admits. “It took a while, and I hardly noticed at first but then…” She pauses, looking away. A pang squeezes Sirion’s heart. He doesn’t know exactly how she and the younger Aquios’ relationship fell apart, and they’ve seemed to be on polite enough terms now—but it still feels shocking and somehow wrong that they should have ended at all. “It’s comforting,” she says finally, turning back to him with a little smile, “to know that he’s not planning to rush headlong into danger again.” Oh. Sirion blinks, startled by that analysis. He’s hardly thought of it in such serious terms; when he’s pondered his sudden fixation on Callebero’s hair it’s been more in curiosity and bafflement. Footsteps sound behind them, and Sirion twists around. Callebero’s eyebrows arch up as he nears, unimpressed, and Sirion grins back at him. “Traitors,” Callebero announces. “We only wanted to give our imperator princep space to celebrate with his courtiers,” Jisel replies, sweet as honey. Huffing out a breath, Callebero drops down into the chair beside Sirion. “Your imperator princep would rather shovel out all the horse stalls in the capital,” he retorts. He kicks lightly at Sirion’s ankle, glancing over to grin at Sirion as if Sirion weren’t already looking at him. Shaking his head, Sirion reaches over to pull him in for a brief kiss. He comes willingly, smiling against his lips, and across the table, Jisel snorts. “Shameless,” she singsongs. Callebero laughs, a warm breath of air against Sirion’s lips, and then he pulls back to grin at her. He’s still leaned close enough that Sirion could run a hand through his hair if it weren’t so neatly pinned up. “I remember someone telling me that Aeridians are all too repressed and that’s why we spend so much time polishing our swords,” he says. Pausing, Jisel narrows her eyes and searches his face like she can’t tell if he’s joking or not. After a moment, she scowls and leans back. “You can’t use the things I’ve said while drunk against me,” she says. “And I stand by it anyway.” Shaking his head, Callebero snorts out a laugh. The motion makes his earrings jingle, ringing together like little chimes. When they turn in for the evening, he’ll grumble about all the layers and seriously contemplate going to bed with each of the dangling piercings still in, and Sirion will nudge him into sitting still long enough to let him take them out and loosen his hair from its severe styling. He can nearly feel the memory of it, the body-warm metal and the cool brush of hair, already lingering in his fingertips. “Since neither of you drink properly, it’s only fair,” Jisel says with a careless shrug. “That is for the sake of the nation’s dignity,” Callebero rejoins. Sirion snorts. “Where would we be if everyone knew the fearsome Black Prince fell asleep after one cup?” he teases. That earns him a short glare and a flick in his shoulder, but he captures Callebero’s hand to tangle their fingers together, which earns him a smile and a net win. Sitting back in his chair, Callebero rolls his shoulders and finally starts to relax. “Jar,” Callebero corrects loftily, and Jisel snorts. “Half,” Jisel rejoins. Stifling a grin, Sirion settles in to let them bicker it out. He’s never seen Callebero drunk, only warm and loose with wine and contentment. His only part in the quibbling is to tease both of them wherever possible. A few strands of Callebero’s hair have slipped loose from the braids and bun, sliding down in a loose loop. Humming softly, Sirion reaches out to tuck them behind his ear. His hand lingers, brushing gently through his hair. Callebero turns slightly, just enough for Sirion to catch the smile on his lips. It softens, warms, and Sirion finds himself mirroring him, helpless. Across the table, Jisel snorts at both of them, and Sirion’s smile broadens into a grin.

#my writing #story: tcp #calsir #ch: callebero #ch: jisel #ch: sirion #Thots™ happening...?? Perhaps????#idk this is from a while ago and i just wanted to wrap it up

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ditch-witches · 4 years

Text

Insufferable (i) - George MacKay x reader

(PART 2) (PART 3) (PART 4)

requested: yes/no (im so sorry this took so long holy scheisse, there are so many parts too)

Thank you so much to our first Instagram request! @/okay.l0z I had a lot of fun with this and had to channel Ryan and Hannah's angst to help me.

"Hi! I've been reading your fics and I love them so much bc there's hardly any around. I was wondering if you take insta requests and if so can you do one with George and the reader are like enemies to loves and they have really cute moments but then end up fighting all the time and then it escalates and they end up having sEx and then get together or something bc I will THRIVE IF YOU DO!" ... "Is it bad if I want it long ass?"

also I thought about this like,,, a lot,,,

pairing: George MacKay x reader

warnings: slow-burn introduction bAsIcalLy, I think there are swear words?

word count: 2,629

a/n: There are several things to be addressed...

accuracy to George's life is like 0/100 - scratch that, they have the same hair color

think of this as an AU because idk how else to explain it

it's a slow burn. if you need something that isn't, check the next imagine over and give it a reblog.

You put your chin in your hand and furrowed your brows as you listened to the actors in front of you. The bright stage lights kept you at a suffocatingly hot temperature, but at this point, you didn't mind. What your main concern for the scene was simple: your leading actor was George MacKay. You had spent constant, stressful hours trying to convince the director of the show that he was not the choice, yet when it came down to it, what he said went, and you had to deal with the cleaning up. Today was not like any other. An almost two-hour practice, script work, lighting, etc, were all thrown at the actors still attempting to memorize their lines.

But it was this part, in particular, that was becoming the most difficult. Maybe it was because you were the ghostwriter of the script and the director was trampling on all of your ideas and dreams with a man that you could one-hundred-percent deem an enemy. Your lead character, Charlie, had a soft side to him, despite having an overpowering sense of the dangers of the world and a body to match. George wasn't Charlie. George was one of the lost boys from Peter Pan and that's all you could see him as. He needed to grow up and be a pirate with only two motives: breaking the chains of the dystopian government regime keeping him away from his wife and captaining the deadly sea creature infested waters and getting back to his wife in one piece.

But George's motives seemed to be entirely set on getting into his co-star's pants.

His cocky attitude and facade of charm made you want to rip your hair out. Sure, he took his job seriously and had several esteemed colleagues of yours raving about him, but this role wasn't his. It didn't help that you knew him from primary school, of all places, and once he found out, that's all he could bring up around you.

George rolled his sleeves and dragged a hand through his thick, red hair, the veins in his arm becoming rather predominant as he did so. He was damn near playing footsie with the girl in front of him; their flirty gazes bouncing from each other to the crumpled scripts in their hands. You rolled your eyes, feeling as if your team could see the steam rolling off your shoulders. The director was doing nothing, merely smiling giddily at the two tearing the scene to shreds. "Stop," you took the reins, standing up from your position on stage and tossing your script down. You stepped over to the two and the director didn't move an inch. "What are you doing?" You nipped, crossing your arms and stepping between George and his co-star.

He towered over you by miles; you weren't sure if this made him feel the superiority he exuded, but you always made sure to square your shoulders when you talked to him. "What do you mean? We're practicing," he slyly stated, sending a wink over your head to the girl.

You took the script from his hands, flipping a few pages to the scene they were supposed to be working on. He smirked down at you, shifting his weight from one foot to the other as he watched you scan the page. His script was well-loved and worn as if it had been in his back pocket repeatedly, flipped through, folded, torn and taped, highlighted and annotated. You tried not to blush at the notes he had taken as if he had actually cared about his role. Notes such as movements and relative emotions were noted as if they were suggestions. You wet your lips, feeling George's easy-going gaze on you the whole time. "... Charlie, we have to get out of here..." You began, your eyes meeting his deep blue ones.

His face fell into a stern expression, his arms crossing heavily with a furrowed brow. "We've only just got here. I'm shipping out tomorrow. There's no way the Republic-" His Scottish accent was surprisingly thick and consistent. He was settling into Charlie.

"I don't care anymore. I'm tired of sitting idly by and watching you throw yourself away for a debt your brother can't repay." You swore you saw an actual feeling of hurt flash behind his eyes.

He chewed the inside of his cheek. "That debt is just as much mine as it is his. You're asking me to uproot and leave him, you know? I can't leave him."

"You'll die. You'll end up like the rest of the mariners haunting their wives for the rest of eternity. You're a slave." George took a few steps to stand in front of you, he was close enough that you could smell his cologne now: a sweet mix of sandalwood with hints of lavender. He smelled like a summer day spent at a cabin in the middle of a meadow. You hated it, but you wanted to bury yourself in his chest and bask in his scent for the remainder of your days.

He rested a hand on your neck, angling your face towards him as he whispered, "Look at me..." You attempted to ignore the beating of your heart in your ears and the sweat that began to spread across your back. "I'm free. I'm choosing this debt because, without it, he would die. He's the last piece of my father I have left."

You reached for his hand, covering it with your own. "What about me, Charlie? I'm here now. I'm flesh and blood in front of you. What about our child?"

"He'll be here when I get back." He pushed away from you, turning his back on you and settling his hands on his hips. "I'm not changing my mind." He looked over his shoulder at you. "Eden, I have to do this." You closed the script with a raised eyebrow, hiding how impressed you were that he actually knew his lines. The emotion he was conveying was nothing like how he had previously let on. You walked towards him and he turned back around. You pressed the script back into his hands and gave him a small glare.

"Practice how you play. I'm done with wasting time," you said more to the group than just him. The rest of the cast members weren't as proficient in hiding their amusement back as you were. The last thing George needed was another inflate to his ego. You went back to your spot, grabbing your clipboard and flipping over a few pages. The group began to gather around you slightly. "I need Eden and Charlie in with wardrobe now, the rest of you keep practicing your lines. I'll want to hear dialogue from Dane and Jack tomorrow. Give me another forty or so minutes and we'll call it?" The director nodded from the first row of seats. The crowd dispersed but George swam against the current of thespians, approaching you again.

He gave you one of his charming smiles. Be professional, you thought. "I was just wondering how that sounded to you?"

You thought for a moment, drawing the clipboard to your chest. "Yeah, it was good. Your accent's a bit dodgy, but the emotion is good. Why don't we see that during actual rehearsals?" You tilted your head at him and he looked at his shoes slightly, tucking his hands in the pockets of his jeans. Was he pretending to be humble?

"I don't know. I guess I like you more as Eden," he jeered, causing you to roll your eyes and he smiled wider.

"You're insufferable," you muttered, walking past him.

He chuckled. "Don't worry, I'll grow on you."

You scoffed slightly. "Go get fitted for suspenders and leave me alone, MacKay."

The next few days were full of constant rehearsals both in costume and script memorization. You had to admit that for some reason this show had you wrapped in a bundle of tension and anxiety. George slowly tore away at your nerves, becoming his own mess of anger and frustration as he picked up more and more on the fact that you weren't going to take his shit. You were serious about this job and you were serious about this play. His humor had diminished as it had gotten closer and closer to opening night and you weren't surprised when he would snap back at you for making an adjustment to his tone or a note on the delivery of a line.

"Stop being such a bitch!" He groaned, tugging at his hair as you crossed your arms.

"Calm down, primadonna! All I'm saying is quit pacing! Charlie isn't pacing! Where in the script does it say he's pacing-"

"THAT'S RIDICULOUS. IT DOESN'T MATTER." He moved to stand in front of you, his teeth gritting slightly. This was what your discussion had grown into, one hissy fit flaring up the other.

"FUCK, YOU'RE RIGHT. I TOTALLY FORGOT YOU WERE THE ONE IN CHARGE, MR. MACKAY. SHOULD I JUST SUCK YOUR DICK RIGHT NOW SINCE WE'RE ALREADY ADDING IN UNNECESSARY ACTION," you would bite back causing him to glare up at the ceiling with his jaw clenching in a sarcastic smile. He wore your patience thinner than tulle. And you were hoping to be doing the same to him.

On the eve of opening night, a storm broke out over the city. You hadn't received word from your ride at all---a man you had been seeing on and off for a while, but still managed to keep him at enough distance that the two of you weren't official. You glared at your watch, deciding to say fuck it and just walk the five or so miles it was to your apartment. Your rain jacket was already soaked, your umbrella proving to be no help whatsoever. But you persevered knowing full-well that if your character, Eden, were in the situation, she wouldn't have batted an eye before dropping him and his lack of communication. As the water soaked into your boots and chilled you rather quickly, you bit your tongue, regretting not waiting for the bus. Cars past you at rushed paces, wanting to get home to their loved ones if the rain worsened---you figured.

Your heart began to pound as a car pulled up beside you, causing you to wrap your hand around the bottle of mace in your coat pocket. The window rolled down, but you kept walking. "Do you need a ride?" Hollered an almost too familiar voice.

You crossed your arms and continued to walk. "No!" You called back.

The car rolled forward and you heard the driver door open. George stepped out slightly, drawing his jacket up to fight against the biting wind. "Come on! Look at this weather!"

"I'm good! Go home, George!"

He tilted his head at you with a deadpan expression. "Don't make me throw you over my shoulder." You furrowed your brows and rolled your eyes, sliding into the passenger seat of his car and taking down your hood. George watched as you did this. He slipped off his jacket. "Here." He pulled his hoodie over his head. "Take your shirt off. You'll get hypothermia."

"Excuse me?" You nipped.

It was his turn to roll his eyes. "I won't look. You're soaked. Take my damn hoodie." You looked out the front window and then let out a huff. You peeled off your upper layer, no longer giving a fuck if George saw you in your bra. You looked over to him while he leaned his arm against his door, his cheek resting against his fist as he held his hoodie out to you. You pulled the garment over your head and couldn't help but snuggle into it. It was oversized and warm, smelling just like George. Your cold skin seemed to sigh against the soft material and you felt tears prickling at the corners of your eyes at how content you were. George put the car into drive after he had made sure you were taken care of. You slipped your hands into the long sleeves and fought not to dig your nose into the neckline to breathe him in. His scent was like kryptonite to you and you hated it. "Are you hungry?" He asked, looking at you briefly and flipping the heat more to your side. He smiled almost proudly to himself at the sight of you enjoying his hoodie and the safety of his car.

You quickly braided your hair, attempting to combat the wet feeling of it against your neck. "No, I'm fine thanks."

"Come on. My treat? I've been a dick to you all week."

"Fine..." You mumbled. He found a nook of a restaurant jabbed into a part of London you had yet to explore. The rain had finally let up to a drizzle as the two of you made your way inside the softly lit eatery. The two of you tucked into a booth and ordered almost instantly, you now realizing just how hungry you actually were. "What were you doing in that part of town so late?" You finally asked after they brought out a hot tea for him and topped off your coffee. His large hands cradled the steaming mug in front of him, his nose slightly red from the chilly weather outside.

He chuckled slightly. "I forgot my script in the theatre and---for some reason---couldn't stop thinking about it." You nodded hesitantly. "Why were you walking home?"

You shrugged nonchalantly. "Such beautiful weather we're having. Thought I would take an evening stroll," you joked, causing him to chuckle lightly. George's face seemed to glow slightly under the cozy lights of the restaurant, his hair slightly disheveled and damp from the rain. You now got a full sight of the t-shirt he was wearing that commemorated a football team from the graduating year ahead of yours.

There was a beat of silence between you two. "Why..." George tugged his bottom lip between his teeth, attempting to find the right words. You furrowed your brows. "Why do you hate me so much?" If you weren't looking at him, you would have sworn he was smiling behind his question.

"Seriously?"

He nodded. "Seriously."

"You dated my best friend, Sophie, and broke her heart," you answered bluntly.

George sent you a puzzled expression for half a second before grinning slightly. "Yeah, but I was ten."

"Yeah, but now she's twenty-one and we still talk about it," you quipped, taking a sip of your coffee.

He exhaled. "I was... I was ten..." He furrowed his brows. "She was pretty. Hasn't some other guy broken up with her since me?"

You shrugged again. "No, she has this mindset where if she starts getting the feeling that things aren't working, she cuts out."

"She's been dwelling over me for how many years?" He couldn't fight the grin threatening to creep across his face.

You bit the inside of your cheek in thought. "I guess that would be twelve years." He whistled. "We're good at keeping grudges."

"Well, if I ever run into her, I'll apologize." He added a lump of sugar to his tea. "Is that the only reason?"

You debated ripping him a new one, but the tiredness you felt reflected in his eyes. "It's the kick-off point. Why? Do you wanna be buddies now?" You joked, sticking your spoon in your mouth.

He rested his hand in his chin. "Nah," he pursed his lips in thought. You furrowed your eyebrows at his answer, letting a titter escape your lips. "You're too young for me." You laughed a bit harder.

"Age is just a number, baby," you hummed and he smirked at you, a sparkle in his eye.

Comment if you would like to be tagged in the next part! Let us know what you think!

#george mackay #george mackay x reader #george mackay imagines #george #1917 imagines #1917 #imagine #reader insert #george mackay angst #angst #fluff #rain

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barrysjumpsuit · 4 years

Text

the dark side - jj maybank x shoupe’s daughter (ch. 3)

w/c: 2.5k

warnings: underage drinking, mentions of other illicit activity, typos probably, but this is mostly just jj fluff

summary: catherine shoupe has the perfect life. when she gets hired by heyward to run groceries, she has a new coworker - jj maybank. as the deputy’s daughter, she can’t help but hate him. but when jj decides to bring her to the dark side and woo her over, cat not only has to hide her activities from her father, but learn who her father really is.

a/n: i’ve been super busy and lacking inspo, so i knocked this out in about an hour and a half (and tbh i’m kinda proud of it). this is definitely based on that time last week i drank 8 beers while swimming and was so drunk i fell off the dock then cried while making a pizza bc i started thinking about drew starkey

side note, the tags weren’t working on the last two chapters, so if you could reblog this that would mean the world to me :)

get caught up on other chapters here! or check out my masterlist!

----

JJ’s words ate at Cat as she drove home. Leave it to JJ to put that foul taste in her mouth - was he trying to turn her against her own father? Or wanting her to come to the dark side with him? Of course JJ didn’t like her dad. He was a troublemaker, flirting with all the punishments that were associated with breaking the law.

Cat got home ten minutes later. Her dad was waiting up for her - it was later than she realized, and she was too caught up with JJ - and then flustered - to text him. “How’d it go?” he asked, seeing her face and pulling her into a hug.

“It was okay. I’m just tired,” she said quietly, her head pressed against her dad’s shoulder.

“You want any dinner?” he asked, and she shook her head. “Okay. Good night, sweetie.”

That night and all of the next day, she couldn’t stop thinking about what JJ had said to her.

Cat spent her day off with her best friend. They shopped before dropping their bags off at Cat’s, changing and going to the beach.

“Tell me about your new job,” Kya insisted, laying beside her. Her eyes were hidden by large, pink sunglasses, a smile plastered on her face.

“Well… it’s different, that’s for sure. I like spending most of my day on the water.” Cat threw an arm up to shield the sun so she could see her friend better. “The guys I work with keep it… interesting.”

“Heyward’s kid? What’s his name?”

“Pope. Yeah, I like him a lot. I usually work with either him or JJ.”

“Maybank?” Kya asked, pushing herself up slightly, and Cat nodded. “Woah, seriously? You haven’t killed each other yet?”

“Actually… we made up for everything last night. Got dinner and everything. He wanted to air everything out, and we had a good night.”

“You got dinner with JJ Maybank?”

Cat sighed as her friend took off her sunglasses to look at her, her eyes wide. “Yes, Kya, why is that such a big deal?”

“You know he’s a total pothead, right? And his dad’s into all sorts of drugs.”

“Well, that’s a good thing I only work with him, then,” Cat responded cooly. “I just want to be friendly enough to make work not insufferable. I don’t care what he does in his free time.”

“Does your dad know?” Kya asked, and sat upright when Cat shook her head. “You’re kidding me, Cat.”

“He doesn’t need to know, he’d just worry.” Cat tried to ignore how worked up all of this made Kya. “Beside, I’ve made it clear to him I don’t want to get involved in anything he or his friends do.”

Kya sighed, laying back down beside her. “You better not. You’re the only friend I have that hasn’t gone all party mode.”

“That’s not gonna happen any time soon.” Cat tried to reassure her, but remembered JJ’s words. I’ll get you out of your bubble, he had said, a charming grin lighting up his face. Everything about JJ’s existence seemed effortless - he didn’t worry about what people thought about him, and didn’t particularly care for impressing people or following every single rule.

All throughout high school, like Kya had said, they lost friends until their once tight-knit friend group shrank to just the two of them. Everyone discovered alcohol, which was easily available at keggers and parties that seemed to happen almost every night. Some started smoking weed, others started doing harder stuff. People changed, and Cat knew that, but she didn’t like that type of change. Even if she did still want to be friends with those people, she knew it wouldn’t fly with her father, much less with Kya’s mother.

Kya Peterkin was the one person who had Cat’s back while they were growing up. Whenever their classmates adopted the we-hate-cops attitude, they were shunned together. They obeyed the same sets of rules, and since their parents worked so closely together, they were bound to become best friends as well.

Sometimes, though, Cat wanted to break the rules. She was tired of being under the watchful, critical eye of her parents. Maybe JJ was what she needed - someone to be that person to get her out there. There was something about the way he spoke to her the other day, like he knew something she didn’t. About her, and about her dad.

The next day, she worked with Pope.

The day after, she worked with JJ.

It was the first time she actually enjoyed working with JJ. The talk they had eased the tension - JJ sat on the bow of the boat, his vape pinched between his lips, swinging his feet in the air while Cat slowed the boat as they approached the no wake zone. As she eased up to the dock to complete the last delivery of the day, JJ hopped off and tied the boat while Cat started readying the groceries.

Cat wanted to ask him, so, what are you doing tonight?, but she had been taught to never invite herself to things. Luckily, JJ seemed to read her mind, a cocky smile tugging on his lips as they loaded bags into the carts they would haul down the sandy paths to the McEvers’ house.

“You busy tonight?” he asked casually, passing groceries from the boat down to her.

“Not at all,” she replied.

“Wanna go for a boat ride?”

“With who?”

“Me and my friends,” he replied, jumping down from the boat to be next to her. He had a red work shirt on, matching his backwards red hat.

“What will be happening on said boat ride?” she asked, partly because she was curious and wanted confirmation, partly to annoy him.

“What, you turning into a cop?” JJ asked. “Your dad knows what we do, everyone on the island knows and everyone on the island does exactly what we do.”

“And what do you do?”

JJ raised his eyebrows before taking a hold of the handle of the cart. “Just a little booze cruise is all. Don’t worry, Pope’s the DD.”

“And you’re not worried I’ll rat you all out?” she asked, taking her own cart and starting to haul it down the path after him.

“No, because you would never let your father know you’re hanging out with me.”

JJ’s words and tone were cocky. Cat smiled, trying to wipe her expression blank as JJ turned to look at her, but failed. “Sure. I’ll come tonight.”

“You got a swimsuit on you?”

“I’ll have to run home and pick one up, just let me know where to meet you.”

JJ flashed her a thumbs up, and before long, they had completed their delivery. The rest of the shift was uneventful; they boated back to Heyward’s, ran through the closing procedures, and JJ told her how to get to John B’s house.

“Just come out back to the dock when you get there, we’ll be waiting on the boat,” he had told her. Cat quickly drove home, telling her dad she was going to treat herself to a night out at the movies, changing before driving south to the Cut.

Two cars were parked in front of John B’s house. Following JJ’s instructions, she walked around the side of the house, seeing the dock lit up with deck lights, hearing voices from a boat tied to the end.

The voices became hushed as she walked down the dock, and she saw someone shove JJ, while another threw a hat at him. As soon as she grew close enough to see JJ’s crew, Cat instantly regretted her decision of coming.

“Shoupe’s kid? Really, JJ?” she heard Kiara hiss, before plastering a big smile on her face. “Hey, Cat.”

She stopped hesitantly on the end of the dock. Just go back home, a voice inside her brain told her, and she was about to start back towards her car when JJ stood, grabbing her hand, pulling her onto the boat.

“Be nice, please,” he said in a sing-songy voice, knowing that Cat had overheard them.

“Dude - really?” John B asked bluntly. He had dropped the hand holding a beer down in a subtle attempt to hide it.

“My lips are sealed.” Cat caught Kiara’s eye roll out of the corner of her vision, and Pope sighed, obviously disliking the conflict.

“Well, let’s go then,” John B said, tension still apparent in his voice. JJ nodded towards the back of the boat, and Pope moved to make room for her to sit.

“Want a drink, kitty Cat?” JJ asked, but before she could answer, Kiara was making a gagging sound and John B looked at him with wide eyes.

“The fuck you call her?” John B asked, and JJ grinned.

“Kitty Cat.”

“I thought I told you to never call me that ever again,” Cat said, leaning forward to look into the cooler. It was full of Pabst and White Claws. She started reaching for one of the latter, but hesitated.

“You don’t have to if you don’t want to,” Pope said quietly, but Cat could feel everyone’s eyes on her.

She looked up to JJ, who shrugged. “The black cherry is my favorite,” he said.

“You admitted it! You like them!” Pope burst suddenly, pointing accusingly at JJ, who just shrugged before speaking.

“There ain’t no laws when you’re drinking Claws,” he claimed, pausing as Cat grabbed one of the black cherries. “Atta girl, Cat.”

She popped the top and took a sip. It was okay, the sharp taste and the carbonation causing her to make a face. The second drink was easier.

As John B pushed the throttle, the conversation died down as they made their way across the water. Cat sat against the back right side of the boat with Pope, while Kiara sat on the back left side, JJ going off to stand next to John B.

“You don’t have to let him pressure you into doing this, you know.”

Pope’s words were sudden, almost lost in the wind. Cat pressed her lips together into a small smile before looking at him and responding. “It’s been a long time coming.”

He smiled back at her, and Cat reverted her gaze to JJ. He still wore his work shirt and that backwards red hat, but had changed into a pair of tropical patterned board shorts and flip flops. Leaning over John B, one hand on the dash of the boat and one on the back of the seat, he was talking with a serious look on his face, and John B was sitting, his jaw set.

After twenty minutes, they reached what Pope informed her was their favorite place to swim and watch the sunset. She had finished her drink, a slight warmness filling her body.

A lime White Claw was next up. It sat on the edge of the boat, half-drank, as they all jumped into the water, the setting sun coloring the water orange, as if it were on fire. Swimming up to the boat, she finished it, tossing the can back into the cooler.

“Atta girl,” JJ praised from out in the water, just his head and beer visible. She burped in response, giggling a little. “Help yourself to another, kitty Cat, you’re off tomorrow.”

She grabbed a lemon before swimming back out to the group. Pope, Kiara, and John B were deep into a discussion about the skunk ape of Florida, and if there was a North Carolina equivalent. As the evening progressed, they seemed to relax slightly at Cat’s presence.

“You feeling okay?” JJ asked as she swam up to him, cradling a life jacket in one arm while she held her drink with the other. She nodded and he took a sip of his beer.

“Can I try it?” she asked.

“You never tasted a beer?” She shook her head, and JJ handed it towards her. “Don’t judge it off this one, JB has shitty taste.”

“Hey!” there was a protest from John B’s direction, and Cat made a face at the taste of the slightly warm beer.

“Why would you want to drink that?” she asked, handing it back to JJ. He shrugged and took another swig, tilting the bottom towards the sky before crushing it in his fist and throwing it back towards the boat, where it met the other cans with a clink.

Before long, it was dark, and the group swam back to the boat. “You feeling okay?” JJ asked as Kiara heaved herself up, Cat putting her empty can with all the other ones and nodded.

“I feel… fine.” Cat was kind of disappointed; she felt warm, a little fuzzy in her head, but other than that, not how she expected to feel.

“Wait until you’re in the boat,” John B said, watching as JJ heaved himself up. “Better yet, until we get to shore.” JJ yelped as John B pushed him up with a hand to his ass, and John B pushed himself in easily.

Cat tried to haul herself in, but couldn’t. John B chuckled, and he and JJ each took a hand, pulling her up, and as soon as she was sitting on the floor of the boat, she understood what John B had meant.

“Come on kitty Cat, to the bow,” JJ was saying, his hands in her armpits. He helped her to the front of the boat, which was open and flat.

“Can you get my towel?” she asked, the evening breeze cold on her wet skin. She knew it would just get worse as they started the ride to shore. JJ left her on the bow as he went to the back of the boat for her towel, and she felt him lay it on her shoulders as he returned.

He sat down beside her, and they were silent as Pope pulled up the anchor and John B started up the boat. As they started moving, Cat was unsteady, and JJ chuckled as she had to plant her hands on the ground to keep herself from falling over into him.

“How many you have? Three?”

“Four,” she said, holding up four fingers in his face. “One of each flavor.”

“And it’s your first time? You’re seasoned already. If only your dad could see you now.”

“Don’ talk about him,” Cat said, putting a finger to his lips, telling him to hush. “I don’t wanna think about it.”

JJ laughed again. “Okay, then, we won’t.” He put his hand on hers, gently rubbing it with his thumb.

If Cat wasn’t drunk she probably would have noticed the way John B raised his eyebrows, the way Kiara rolled her eyes, and the way that Pope smiled softly. She would have noticed the way he caught her as she swayed unsteadily when they hit a wake, how he brought her towel back up on her shoulder when it blew off.

She probably would have noticed the way JJ looked at her, his eyes devouring every inch of her, his body relaxed for the first time in who knows how long.

taglist (lmk if you want to be added!) @letsgofullkook @stargazingstarkey @sortagaysortahigh @jjsmentalpolaroids @ims0golden @jjmaybcnks @shawnssongs @queenk00k @broken-jj @danielle-yeah @wicked-laugh @obxhoe @talksoprettyjjx @kt219567 @abrunettefangirlnerd @apoguecalledjj @rollinsstuff

#jj maybank #outer banks #jj maybank fanfiction #jj maybank imagine #outer banks fanfiction #outer banks imagine #rudy pankow #victor shoupe #deputy shoupe #daddy shoupe #obx fic

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dolls-self-ships · 4 years

Text

MORE stuff about my friendship with the Penguins !!

part 1

* Skipper is kinda like my dad in a way, he’s arguably the most protective of me and he can’t stand to see me upset- with his men it’s a little different because they’re all like brothers to him, plus they’re his soldiers, but I’m sort of like his little girl (not that he would ever admit that). Sure we probably argue the most out of everyone, but we always come out of it having learnt something new about the other, or with a new perspective on something. It’s some good ol, fatherly-daughterly love. God forbid I ever bring a boy or a girl home though, because Skipper is all over that like hot sauce on fish. He wants names, addresses, alliances, accomplices, places of work, ect.

* Private and I definitely have the most in common, and are the closest because of it. He’s like my baby brother/best friend. We watch cartoons, listen to musicals, draw, and bake together all the time. We’re both really soft and wholesome people so our vibes just kinda bounce off each other to create even more wholesome vibes. It’s cute, but sometimes too cute for the others to bare. In Skippers words, “oh god, there’s two of them!”

* Kowalski kinda simps for me lowkey but we’re still tight. I like to listen to him talk about his inventions and scientific theories- I don’t understand any of it but he’s happy to have someone around that’s at the very least interested in what he’s saying. I find it admirable that he’s so passionate about what he does, even though it can get out of hand sometimes. And even though he doesn’t necessarily think of the Fine Arts as the most productive course, he supports me nonetheless because at the end of the day he (and all the others) just wants me to be happy. Believe it or not he’s actually a very comforting friend with a small part of him that’s secretly soft. He doesn’t show it for obvious reasons but when you look at certain scenes in the show you can see a bit of that peaking through and it’s just 🥺🥺🥺

* Rico’s like my chaotic older brother that spent most of his life in a frat house. He teaches me how to fake belch (I still couldn’t do it in the end), shotgun beers (it took a while but I got it eventually), and backflip safely off a roof while still looking sick as fuck (yeah, the others didn’t let me do that, no chance in hell). He’s always barfing up things to my convenience though! This annoyed Skipper at first because it was ‘unauthorized hacking’. I was also grossed out by it at the start but now I just keep a packet of wet wipes on me and I’m good to go. Lots of fist bumps with this man! Lots of ‘em! He’s a total bro, always got my back! And I got his! Loyal as fuck!

* Skipper, on multiple occasions, has accused me of “turning his men into pansies”. I always kinda roll my eyes and try to ignore remarks like this, but I really try to make him see why sometimes that’s okay. Of course Skipper cares deeply about all three of his soldiers, so it’s probably just a front when he says things like that. Though... I do have to help him work on all that misogyny he carries around.

* “All I said was that it’s okay to cry sometimes.”

* “Crying shows weakness!”

* “Skipper, it’s just emotion.”

* “Exactly! I can’t have my men letting feelings run their lives.”

* “What about your anger issues? Those are emotions.”

* “Those are manly emotions, kid! Fierce, unapologetic warrior rage is what makes a good commander.”

* “I-“

* Or on a separate occasion

* “You’ve made my men soft”

* “And? You’re next you know.”

* *GASP*

* One time Blowhole captured me and roasted me for a solid hour in front of the Penguins both out of spite and his pure hatred for humans

* “You pen-gu-ins have really let your standards drop! I mean, how could you stoop so low as to befriend a weak, puny-brained, fleshy human?”

* Rico: *gasp followed by angry gibberish*

* Kowalski: YOU BITE YOUR TONGUE, BLOWHOLE

* Private: That’s not very nice!

* Skipper: Hey, that’s OUR weak fleshy human!

* After that, the Penguins decided that if I’m going to continue to be friends with them, it was mandatory that I learn how to defend myself. Because as long as I associated myself with the four, I was subject to more than than just Blowhole capturing me like an 80’s cartoon villain

* Over time I do pick up moves, learn skills from each of them (sadly, not Rico’s hacking) but Skipper knows that I am in no way soldier material. If he were to train me like he did his men, it would break my spirit

* He just wants me to be able to handle myself in case of emergencies

* He is very much like a worried dad

* At some point sooner or later I end up meeting Julien very much against the Penguins will. He’s just too nosy, and annoying, they can’t stop him

* He is instantly trying to put the moves on me bc he’s horny on main (again, not my suggestion, 100% my sister’s. She KNOWS I can’t handle it when people flirt with me so why would she-)

* The only way I can get him to leave me alone is by showing him my jewelry box, the shiny bracelets and dangly earrings distract him for a good while

* I even let him have a few things that are old or I don’t wear anymore.

* Julien immediately starts gasping and tearing up because he is so touched that I am just giving him this for free???? Just like that????

* He clears his throat and composes himself because obviously I’m giving him gifts, he is the King after all

* Our dynamic for a while is a little awkward for me though because it’s basically this iconic text post

* “Alright, raise your hand if you thought Julien and I were dating. Julien, put your hand down.”

* The feelings were very VERY unrequited :,(

* But it’s okay because once Julien gets over that we actually vibe really well!!!!

* He’s a himbo, and I’m a bimbo, therefore, we get along

* We do all that frivolous shit together: get drunk, go to parties (he knows all the obscure places that send you the location like an hour before the rave starts, it’s wild), get our nails done, talk abt our taste in people

* He’s a raging, flirtatious pansexual and I’m a romantic but shy bisexual

* Of course our friendship drives Skipper up the fucking wall

* He’s worried I’m gonna become more like Julien, but Kowalski says the likelihood of that happening is 0.05%. I might pick up one or two quirks of his because that’s just what happens when you spend time with people but no dramatic changes will be had. I’ll still be their same ol’ Cassandra

* Skipper still thinks that’s one or two quirks too many though of course

* This is way far into the future but my brain kept coming up with ideas for it so; on my wedding day, if I were to ever find someone I wanted to marry, everything is extremely chaotic, to say the least. Skipper is on constant guard mode, under the impression that one of his villainous foes could come and crash the wedding, which everyone doubts is gonna happen

* Kowalski, bless his heart, is the one helping me plan everything. Private pitches in too with decor and food ideas, but the price, date, location, guest list, probability that someone will try and assassinate me, that’s all Kowalski

* Rico is surprisingly into helping me pick out my wedding dress, he knows a thing or two from keeping up with the latest fashion for Ms. Perky

* And Private, he’s my main man on the big day. He’s the one helping me remember my vows, breath, talking with me before my human friend’s come in to do my hair and makeup. If it were up to me I would’ve made him my maid of honour, no joke. He said he was, well, honoured!

#i dont know where all the wedding stuff came from i seriously dont #but i had fun writing it!#bees self ships #self shipping #self ship #self ship community #self ships #self insert #platonic f/os #pom #the penguins of madagascar #skipper #rico #kowalski #private #king julien

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thegrandromantic · 4 years

Text

ok so i wrote an usagi x ami one shot fic bc sailor moon is grossly heteronormative and They’re Perfect For Each Other Your Honor. i haven’t written literally anything in absolutely ages so you’ll have to excuse it if it’s not very good, i’m honestly just doing it to practice but i hope someone on here enjoys it :) also if any of the science/baking shit in this is inaccurate it’s because it’s entirely based on my memory of middle school science classes and a very cursory glance at a bread making recipe online lmaooo i just thought the scenario was cute.

Usagi sat cross-legged on the floor of Ami’s room, Ami was a few feet away rifling through some flash cards they’d been using to study for the past few hours.

“Ughhh I’m NEVER going to get this stuff! I’m just going to fail the test tomorrow like I always do,” Usagi flailed out onto her back in frustration and stared at the ceiling.

“Usagi...” Ami began, reaching out to comfort the other girl but withdrawing her hand nervously, “You’re going to be fine! You’ve made it through school this far haven’t you? Besides, now you at least have someone to study with.”

“It’s just not working!” Usagi snapped back up into a sitting position, “No matter what I do I’m always late to class which gets me in trouble which gets me sent out of class and I miss the lessons and that means I don’t understand the material and I fail the test!”

“Well it sounds like what you really need to work on is your sleep schedule, but that can be a problem for another day,” Ami looked thoughtfully at the girl across from her.

They’d been doing this for a few weeks now, even though Ami was always busy with cram school she had noticed how much Usagi struggled in her classes and had tried to take up a hobby of tutoring her. After all, they were best friends and it was the least she could do for her. Ami sometimes wished she had more time to spend on her own studies, but for some reason it was worth it just to see Usagi more often.

After a long silence between the two girls Ami caught herself staring and stopped herself, shifting her gaze back to the cards in front of her, “I think we need to try a different tactic, the flashcards seem to be too frustrating. You seem pretty energetic... Let’s try to get you moving while we do this!” She stood up and offered both hands to the other girl to help pull her off the floor.

Usagi dramatically rolled onto her back again momentarily, “I don’t know why you don’t just give up on me Ami...” before she sat up and took the girl’s hands, hoisting herself into standing up.

“Of course I don’t give up on you! No one’s a lost cause, least of all you,” Ami said, a bit of color rising in her cheeks, “Besides, I really enjoy spending time with you.”

“I thought I was just being a pain to teach this whole time, it’s good to know you enjoy this though,” Usagi blushed a bit as well.

“I absolutely do, now come on!” Ami eagerly tugged the blonde out of her room and down the stairs to the kitchen, “Have you ever tried baking?” she asked on the way down.

“Not much... I’m a bit too clumsy to be allowed in the kitchen very often at home,” Usagi admitted sheepishly.

“Well we’re going to fix that. The science test you’re studying for tomorrow is about chemical reactions and stuff anyway, and that’s all baking really is! We’ll just get you some hands-on experience and maybe it’ll stick better in your mind!” Ami said excitedly, her volume slowly increased the longer she rambled on and she paled a bit when she realized. She called to her mom in the other room, “Hey mom! Do you mind if Usagi and I use the kitchen for a while?”

“Of course not honey, just be careful,” her mom called back.

“Thank you Mrs. Mizuno!” Usagi called into the other room.

Ami started rifling through various cabinets, pulling down the different tools and ingredients they’d need to bake some bread. Ami had spent a fair amount of her free time baking so the process to prepare for it was almost mechanical for her.

Usagi hoisted herself onto a counter, swinging her legs as she watched the other girl go about her work. She watched closely, admiring how methodical Ami seemed about what she was doing but she also noticed a certain excitement about it. Usagi rarely got to see Ami get this passionate about something, since most of the time Ami had a bit of a hard time expressing her emotions. She heard Ami muttering her way through a list of the items she needed in an almost sing-songy voice and grinned when she heard it. It was the first time she’d ever even heard Ami’s singing voice. It wasn’t particularly impressive but there was something so sincere in it, a happiness that Usagi rarely got to hear. The only other time Ami got this excited was when she had aced a test in cram school or something.

“Great! So what’s the first step then? I’m still not sure how this is going to help me pass my science test but I’ll give anything a try at this point,” Usagi giggled and hopped off the counter, approaching the area where Ami had laid out all the supplies.

“Well we start out by making the dough, which is really just a mixture of all the ingredients here,” Ami instructed, waving to the ingredients.

Usagi nodded and grabbed the first ingredient, allowing Ami to explain how much of each one to add to the mixing bowl as she went.

“So now you’ve made the raw dough, and since we haven’t made any chemical reactions yet this is still just a...” she trailed off hoping Usagi would fill in the blank.

“A... uh... a mixture, right?” Usagi offered hesitantly.

“Exactly! I told you you could get this stuff down,” Ami jumped up and down a bit, excited that she had helped Usagi learn something already, “So the next step is called proofing, which is more of a baking term than anything but we’re going to add lukewarm water to the dough in order to activate the yeast, which should start to make the dough puff up,” Ami rambled on.

“Wait! Since it’s changing shape after we apply heat... does that mean we’re doing a chemical reaction to it?” Usagi attempted to make the connection on her own this time.

“Absolutely right! Do you remember what we call a mixture that’s been bound through chemical reactions?”

“It becomes a um... a compound, right?”

“Exactly!” Ami was practically giddy with joy and flung her arms around Usagi, “See, you knew this stuff all along! You just needed to see how it works in real life!”

Usagi blushed at all of the sudden affection from Ami, “Th-thanks for showing me all this, it’s really helped so far! Let’s keep going!”

The two girls worked hard at the bread they were making, Ami occasionally jumping in to quiz Usagi on the different chemical reactions that were happening as they made the bread. It came time to knead. Ami explained the process but when Usagi started doing it she noticed that she was getting the dough a bit thin in places.

“Here, let me help,” Ami offered, gently walking up behind Usagi and wrapping her arms around Usagi’s waist. She placed her hands on top of the other girl’s nervously and guided Usagi’s hands through the kneading process. It was a good thing Usagi was so intent on the bread, if she had turned around she would have seen just how red Ami had become at the intimacy she had accidentally created.

Usagi was surprised at first and stiffened before she eased into it, allowing Ami’s hands to guide her own. The slow rhythmic methodical movements of the other girl lulled Usagi into an almost hypnotic state. She felt nothing in the world except the dough between her fingers, Ami’s hands pressing gently down on her own, and the soft warmth of the other girl’s breath on the back of her neck which was enough to make her hair stand on end. There was an electricity about it all and Usagi felt her heart thumping hard in her chest. She never wanted this moment to end.

At last, Ami sheepishly pulled her hands away and said, “That should be good enough now,” her voice cracked awkwardly on the first word.

“R-right, and now we just... bake it, right?”

“Y-yeah... let’s put it in together?” Ami grabbed one side of the pan and Usagi grabbed the other. They knelt down across from each other in front of the oven and shared a long lingering stare as they pushed the pan in. Ami fumbled with the handle on the oven and pushed it closed. Her breath quickened when there were no longer any obstructions between her and the other girl’s face.

Usagi felt herself leaning in, closing the distance between the two of them almost on instinct. After the experience of kneading the bread with Ami something inside her wanted... NEEDED to be closer to her.

Ami leaned in as well, now visibly reddening again. She had never quite felt this way before, it was new and thrilling and she was terrified but comforted all the same.

Before they knew it, their lips had collided. It was short, both girls taken aback by the kiss. Their lips had hardly brushed and yet it felt to them both as if their lives had changed forever. There was a long silence as they stared intently into one another’s eyes, entranced.

“I’m s-“

“Did we j-“

Both girls had started talking at exactly the same moment. The little awkward foible managed to get a giggle out of Usagi and a weak laugh out of Ami.

“Do you want to...” they both began, again speaking simultaneously.

“Yes.” Ami replied, grabbing Usagi by the shoulders and pulling her into another, deeper kiss.

When they pulled apart both girls were breathless. All Usagi could think to say was, “Well... that was a pretty productive study session.”

Both girls laughed and in that moment, they knew something truly special had begun.

#sailor moon #sailor mercury #usagi tsukino #ami mizuno #fanfic #oneshot #ami x usagi #usagi x ami #idk what their ship name is #does anyone else even ship these two

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cherishtaengs · 4 years

Text

I Hate That I... (pt. 3 - Y/N)

pt. 1 | pt. 2 | pt. 4 | pt. 5 |

Word Count: 3486

(This is so long because I’m trying my best to get my word count up for nanowrimo bc I am WAY behind the schedule I made for myself, but I hope y’all don’t mind skjdfhd)

You swept through the library doors, allowing yourself to quicken your pace into a brisk walk. For some reason, you couldn’t shake the feeling of Taeyang’s eyes staring after you, even though you knew you were safely far away from him. You also had a class to get to, but the little run in with the bane of your existence had left you dangerously close to being late.

You knew you shouldn’t have let him talk you into kissing him not just once, but twice- you knew there was nothing real in the way he practically begged for it. Not even the Devil himself could change overnight, and Yoo Taeyang was the next closest thing. But the only explanation you had to letting him sway you with a few words was that you wanted it. You wanted to kiss him again, just like you had at the party, and just the thought of that made your stomach flip. You shook your head, as if that would banish your thoughts from your mind for good. You didn’t know if you’d tell your roommate about the second and third kisses.

Thankfully, your class wasn’t too far, so you made it in right on time. Everyone else was already in their seats and looked up as you appeared at the door. Some hid their snide grins behind strategically placed hands, and others shared knowing glances with the people sitting next to them. To their credit, no one said a single word, so you took the walk of shame to your seat in silence. Your roommate and friend, Sammi, offered you a sympathetic smile. Somehow, that was worse than if someone had cracked a smart joke in your direction. You fully expected news of the little scene with Taeyang to have spread among friend groups by now. After all, there was no way that his incessant teasing and your passive aggressive response would only stay within the four walls of the library on such a small campus. Everybody knew everybody, and everybody talked, so you weren’t really surprised that you’d suddenly become a hot topic for conversations.

“You know what everyone’s talking about, right?” Sammi, leaned toward you. You shrugged a shoulder.

“Yeah,” You knew your classmates seated closest to the two of you had their attentions fully on you, but you didn’t exactly care. “I kind of expected this after the idiot made a totally unnecessary scene in the library yesterday.”

Okay, so you weren’t going to mention the second and third kisses just yet, at least not until you figured out what mess you and Taeyang had gotten yourselves into. In all honesty, you weren’t sure if you wanted to tell Sammi at all; the last thing you needed was for her to go crazy thinking the two of you were together or anything. Because that’s not at all what this was about, whatever this even was. This was about you beating Taeyang at all of his stupid little games and hearing him say sorry to you at least once for making your life unbearable whenever he was around.

“Are you gonna do anything about it?” your friend turned her attention back to her books as the professor walked in.

“What exactly am I supposed to do?” You asked, poking at your notebook with your pen. You definitely couldn’t mention wanting to get back at him. “I did what I did, he said what he said. People saw, people heard. That’s that.”

“But aren’t you going to, y’know,” she lowered her voice as the class began. “Get revenge?”

At this, you turned to stare at her. Sure Sammi had said a few questionable things about your hate-hate relationship with Taeyang before, but you didn’t think she’d actually support you getting even with him. “If you have anything in mind, let me know.”

The wicked grin on her face gave away that she did, in fact, have something in mind, and you juggled the thought of telling her your own plan.

Once class started, you couldn’t focus. The only thing going through your head was what happened in the library just a few minutes ago. You were always on high alert when you were near Taeyang, you never knew what he’d throw your way- even though mostly, it was just a snide comment here or there and nothing much more confrontational than that. But, you were always ready anyway. And yet, he’d still managed to corner you, literally and figuratively.

As images of all three kisses flashed through your mind, you felt the heat rise in your cheeks. You hated it. You absolutely despised how he’d left such an impression on you all three times. You felt it both at the party and at the library, the strange weightless feeling. Even though it was all you could think about, you didn’t quite understand. For so long, Taeyang had made you feel nothing but anger. Even if he wasn’t trying, he got on your nerves. And that insufferable grin he always put on when he realized just how annoyed you were- god, you hated it. But now, here you are, unable to focus in class because you couldn’t for the life of you stop thinking about kissing him.

And you hated the fact that you couldn’t understand what you were feeling more than the fact that it was him. Sure, fine, whatever, you kissed Taeyang. None of that meant anything in itself. Or, it wouldn’t have if you could just shake the strange feeling in the pit of your stomach. Whenever you wanted to get rid of the thought, your brain made sure you remembered every detail. From the way Taeyang’s hands had held you to how unbelievably good it had felt when he kissed you.

Well, of course Taeyang would be the perfect kisser- you knew he had plenty of experience in the field. And it wasn’t like he was your first kiss, either, but you couldn’t remember anyone having the same effect on you as he did. You were amazed at how easy it was to lose yourself in him, to momentarily forget about what was going on. The only thing on your mind was how he’d left you wanting more both times, and it made you want to scream.

“You okay?” Sammi nudged you with her elbow, bringing you back into the real world as class drew to an end. You realized that you’d spent the entire hour daydreaming instead of actually paying attention, and you felt another flush on your face.

“Yeah,” You gathered your things and stood, joining her as the flow of students moved toward the door. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just zoned out.”

“I can tell,” she had a smile on her face, and she looked you over once. “Will you tell me if I ask you why?”

You shrugged, avoiding eye contact with her as you both stepped out into the hall. “It’s nothing. I’m just tired.”

Your roommate offered you a knowing glance, which you did not need. “Were you up thinking about him all night?”

Before you could answer, Sammi pushed her shoulder against yours, turning you to the side. And, of course, just as your luck would have it, Taeyang was walking down the hall toward you. You quickly spun back to face your friend.

“No, I wasn’t,” You hissed as she barely hid her wide and mischievous grin. “I definitely don’t spend my time-”

“Thinking about me?”

You wondered if you’d get in trouble for punching an asshole in the face right then. And while it seemed like a good idea, you decided against it, instead turning around to look Taeyang in the eyes. He was standing an arm’s length away from you and you quickly saw that they weren’t the same soft eyes as before; they were back to being sharp and mocking.

“In your dreams,” you cross your arms and let a small smirk onto your lips, already deciding you’d get the last laugh. “You know what they say; when you can’t sleep, it’s because someone else is dreaming about you. I wonder if that’s why I was up all night.”

You heard Sammi draw in a sharp breath next to you. Taeyang’s grin only got wider, and his eyes narrowed, as if to acknowledge your taunt. Your heart was beating hard against your chest, and you hoped you looked as tough as you wanted to. “Then I guess I should thank you for making my dream come true. But, you had to break your promise to never kiss me again, didn’t you? Or was what happened today another mistake?”

You noticed that Sammi was very quiet and still beside you, obviously confused and unwilling to look away. You’d have to explain yourself later, exactly what you’d been wanting to avoid. But you’d handle that situation right after you finished this one.

“It wasn’t a mistake,” you shrugged, daring him to challenge you. “If I remember correctly, you were the one who begged for it.”

At that, Taeyang’s confident grin faltered a bit. It was almost imperceptible, but you caught it, the slightest twitch at the corner of his perfect mouth, and your heart jumped. There was nothing else he could say now; it was a clear blow to his ego, and Taeyang realized that you’d won this round.

“Now, if you’ll excuse us,” you continued before he can speak, momentarily basking in the victory before having to face your friend. “We have better things to be doing, and they don’t involve you.”

With that, you dismissed Taeyang and pulled Sammi along in the opposite direction. She still hadn’t said a word, and that bothered you more than if she was losing her mind. Which you knew she probably was, but was also still processing everything, because you kind of were too.

“Okay, listen,” you finally breathed out as you and your roommate were safely outside. “I’ll explain-”

“Damn right you will!” she crossed her arms, planting herself firmly in front of you. “Literally what was that?”

It was like your heart beat was amplified throughout your body, pounding against every part of you. There was no way you could prepare her for what you were about to admit, so you just blurted it out.

“Taeyang found me in the library and we kinda kissed twice there because he said he wanted to know if he felt something after the first kiss at the party but he needed to kiss me again to find out but it wasn’t the same so then we kissed again and he told me it was a bet and now we’re in this unspoken war kind of thing and yeah that’s what that was.”

You caught your breath, unsure of how Sammi would respond. She didn’t for a few moments, just stared at you blankly while the information settled in her brain. And when everything finally made sense to her, you saw the expression on her face change ever so slowly, comically shifting between confusion and disbelief before finally landing on excitement. She grabbed your hands in hers, a big smile splitting across her face.

“Taeyang is in love with you!”

You pulled away from her just as fast as the words left her mouth and shook your head. “No, that’s definitely not what it is. He doesn’t like me, he thinks he’s playing me. But he’s not, because I am. Playing him, that is. I’m playing him.”

You weren’t sure why your words were suddenly coming out all jumbled, but you guess it was because you were still a bit shaken.

“Oh my God,” your roommate clasped her hands together, gasping. “Then you’re in love with him!”

You run your hand through your hair, taking a deep breath. You should’ve just left her confused. “That is exactly the opposite of what I said. No one’s in love with anyone! We don’t even know each other like that.”

But of course Sammi wouldn’t let it go that easily. “Well, if you hate him so much without even knowing him, you can like him, too.”

“I can’t hate him and like him at the same time,” you rolled your eyes, knowing you wouldn’t get anywhere by arguing with her. “Pick a struggle.”

“Wait, wait,” she waved her hands and began the shower of questions that you’d expected as you started to your next class. “Tell me all about it. Is he that good of a kisser? Was there tongue? Actually, I don’t think he’d do that this early-”

Was beating Taeyang at his own game worth dealing with this?

- - -

The rest of your classes passed by similar to the first. All you could think of was Taeyang and his cocky smirk. You silently seethed, unnerved by the way he’d suddenly claimed the larger portion of your attention. That was way too much power, and you knew you shouldn’t allow him to have it.

But, as if the universe was apologizing for being so rude to you, the end of your day brought a pleasant distraction along with it.

“Y/N!”

You heard a vaguely familiar voice call you as you walked out of your last class. Sparing a glance over your shoulder, you caught sight of Inseong hurrying toward you. You immediately stopped in your tracks, clutching your book closer to you, and wondered why Inseong of all people would be looking for you.

“Y/N,” Inseong slowed down a few feet away from you, giving you enough personal space. You only noticed that because, conversely, Taeyang seemed to have no care for that concept at all. “I was hoping to run into you.”

As Inseong paused to catch his breath, you noticed that his cheeks looked slightly flushed and his hair was tousled from the wind. You hoped it wasn’t obvious, but his presence itself made your pulse flutter.

“I had classes all day today,” you smiled apologetically. “Just got out.”

“Really?” Inseong looked at you, eyes slightly wide as if he’d never heard of having a full schedule before. But you knew he was very familiar with heavy workloads; he was one of the smartest people you‘d ever come across. Nearly everyone worshipped Inseong and his brain. “It’s already past 6- you must be tired.”

You laughed nervously, hoping it came out more casual than anxious. “Yeah, I’m exhausted. Why were you looking for me?”

Inseong’s eyebrows bounced up quickly, remembering that there was an actual reason he’d stopped you. “I just... Wanted to apologize.”

“For what?”

Inseong lifted a hand to rub the back of his neck, dropping his eyes to the ground for a moment. When he looked back up, you noticed that they seemed to sparkle in the evening light. It wasn’t the right time, but you still felt your cheeks tingle with warmth. “For how Taeyang was acting yesterday. It was really uncalled for and he’s not... well, no, he is usually like that, but he’s nicer.”

You raised a skeptical eyebrow. There was no way you’d believe that until Taeyang himself proved it. Inseong rushed to continue.

“I know, you may not believe me,” he held his hands up, a sheepish smile lifting the corners of his lips. “But Taeyang’s not all asshole. Mostly, but not fully.”

You definitely didn’t believe Inseong, but you thought it was sweet of him to even try. Why couldn’t all of Taeyang’s friends be this nice? If they’d just learn some common manners from Inseong, maybe you’d tolerate them more. The older boy was looking down at you with expectant eyes, and you noticed the stark difference in auras between him and Taeyang. You hadn’t even been speaking to him for long, but he very clearly radiated a certain warmth that Taeyang was sorely missing.

“It’s really kind of you to try to clear his name,” you say softly, absently fidgeting with the strap of your bag. “But, that’s something Taeyang needs to do himself.”

Inseong blew out a breathy laugh, nodding his head. “I agree, believe me, I do. But knowing him, he doesn’t even realize he’s in the wrong. And I’ve, uh, heard people talking. Sorry about that, too.”

For some reason, it made you nervous that Inseong knew that things were spreading around campus, but you had also anticipated it to happen. Of course, you knew Inseong would have realized that gossip spreads like wildfire- you understood that was part of the reason he’d stepped in between you and Taeyang yesterday.

“It’s fine,” you shake your head, face quickly growing warmer. “I mean, there’s nothing going on between us, so I’m not worried about what people have to say about me.”

“That’s a relief,” you weren’t sure if there was a faint hesitation in his voice and you thought another expression flashed across his face for a moment, but he quickly replaced it with his usual bright smile. “And there’s one more thing-”

You watched as Inseong reached into his pocket and brought out a piece of paper that looked like it had been folded several times until it was a square almost the same size as his thumb. You felt a particularly hard thump against your chest as your fingers brushed his when you took the paper from him. When you unfolded it, you saw an address with a date, and right underneath that was a phone number. Could he see how your hands were shaking? You hoped not.

“Tell your friend about it, too,” your eyes followed Inseong’s hands as he ran his fingers through his hair and brushed a few strands behind his slightly pink ears. “Let me know if you’ll be there.”

You couldn’t find words for a moment. They seemed to have gotten lost somewhere in your head, mixed up with all the other things in there. It was almost a moment too late when you finally remembered that you should give him a response. And breathe.

“Yeah,” you nod a little harder than was normal. “Yeah, I’m sure she’d love to go.”

“What about you?” Inseong asked, lightly teasing. In just a second, you felt your ears burn and your cheeks tingled.

“Right!” you nod again, hair flying into your face as a crisp breeze picked up around you. “Yes, of course, yeah, I’ll... definitely be there.”

You didn’t know why it was so hard to form proper sentences all of a sudden, but maybe it had something to do with the really pretty smile Inseong was giving you. You wanted the ground to swallow you whole.

“Great,” Inseong said cheerfully. “Then I’ll see you there!”

He gave you a short wave and turned, walking away to do whatever it was that he had to do next, leaving you silently sucking as much air into your burning lungs as you could and blinking down at the paper in disbelief.

When you later told your roommate about the party Kim Inseong had invited you to himself, she had to lean against the wall for balance as she read the paper.

“And he wrote his number down?” Sammi’s eyes darted between you and the paper. “Okay, you can have Taeyang, let me-”

You snatch the paper back from her, shaking your head. “I don’t want Taeyang. I don’t want either of them.”

“Man, this really isn’t fair,” your roommate groaned, falling back onto her bed. “How are all the cute guys giving you attention when you don’t even appreciate it.”

You shrugged, carefully folding the paper and placing it in the drawer of your table. “Listen, I didn’t even ask for this. I’d gladly switch lives with you if it were possible.”

Sammi let out a loud sigh. “No, that’s fine. I’m already putting together what you’ll wear so I can live vicariously through you at the party.”

“What do you mean?” naturally, you were very wary of whatever it was that she had in mind. It definitely wouldn’t just be a night where you and her could have fun if she was already scheming.

Sammi pushed herself onto her elbows, eyes glinting mischievously. “Don’t worry, we’ll have fun. Maybe it’ll even help you win your little game or whatever. Trust me; I have an idea.”

“That’s what I’m afraid of,” you exhaled sharply, turning away from her. You definitely didn’t want her to go through with whatever she was planning, but you also knew that nothing could stop her if she was dead set on making it happen.

Sammi giggled with satisfaction. “It’ll be a good night. You can thank me later.”

You knew it was risky, but a part of you was also looking forward to the party. It was a few days away, but you already decided that you wouldn’t let it end the way the other one did. You wouldn’t let this one become an embarrassing mess.

For the sake of your own sanity, you couldn’t let that happen.

#fantasylibrary #sf9 #kpop #sf9 au #sf9 inseong #sf9 youngbin #sf9 jaeyoon #sf9 dawon #sf9 rowoon #sf9 juho #sf9 zuho #sf9 taeyang #sf9 hwiyoung #sf9 youngkyun #sf9 chani

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kimjoongs-main · 6 years

Text

ohshc au - jaemin

continuation of this au

↳ requested by: this anon gave me the idea so thank you my sweet~

↳ type: bullet scenario

↳ warning(s): n/a

↳ a/n: happy 18th birthday dream boy, i hope the members shower(ed) you with love and support today! i love you very very much jaemin ❤️

ahh yes, na jaemin aka the host club’s leader aka the host club’s king aka the host clu—okay you get the idea here

jaemin’s a third year along w jeno, hyuck, and renjun but the club has been around since the beginning of his second year

at first, everyone else was kinda hestitant to go along w jaemin’s idea of starting a host club, but once they heard his reasoning they agreed

the club had humble beginnings, only a handful of guests would trickle into the music room after school, curious to see what the club was about

but the next time they came in, those guests brought their friends and their friends brought their friends and pretty soon the host club had an impressive turnout

the guests were just entranced by the dreamies and their ability to charm them, but jaemin was on a whole other level

the majority of the guests who would come were usually his regulars and trust me, jaemin had a LOT of regulars

but he didn’t seem to mind, the more the merrier right?

this boy is so cheesy it’s disgusting but his guests love it sooooo

however the other members hear it from him so often that they’ll occasionally throw a pillow at him or stuff his mouth with cake to make him shut up cough renjun cough

he’s in charge of the club’s daily concepts and it’s both a good thing and a bad thing, good bc he always comes up with themes that entertain the guets, and bad bc the costumes are fucking ridiculous slfkskwk :’))

but the others smile thru it bc the guests’ happiness is their number one priority

jaemin tries to make sure every guest leaves happy, no matter if they’re his guest or not, and so far he’s succeeded......until now

a new girl had come into the music room one day, she had just transferred from a different school and heard from her classmates about the host club and decided to check it out for herself

and the second she entered the room she was met with jaemin holding a red rose in front of her as he smiled brightly and flashed her a wink

“well hello my darling, i haven’t seen you around here before. what’s your name?”

the new girl kinda just scrunched her nose and rolled her eyes, much to jaemin’s surprise, and she walked past him, moving deeper into the room

jaemin looked after her worriedly but let it go as soon as he heard his guests calling for him

the entire time, the new girl just stood in the far corner and observed everythimg thru narrowed eyes

it eventually came to a point where everyone was aware of her presence and they all became uncomfortable

jeno walked up to jaemin and whispered in his ear “hey jae, what do we do about her? she’s making the guests feel awkward” and jaemin gets up and says he’ll handle it

when he walks over to her, he plasters a gentle smile on his face again “is something wrong, lovely? why are you here by yourself? would you like to—“

“you people disgust me” she hisses

jaemin freezes and so does mark and hyuck, as they were the closest ones

“i’m...i’m sorry?”

the girl huffs and uncrosses her arms, pointing an accusing finger at jaemin “you guys are basically manipulating these girls, telling them how beautiful and lovely they are, but you don’t really mean it do you? admit it, you guys are just doing this for yourselves right? to see how many girls you can score?”

at this point the entire room has their eyes fixed on jaemin and the new girl, and renjun has heard enough so he gets up and stomps over to them

“you’ve got it all wrong, that isn’t what we’re about! we’re not doing this to get girls, you can’t just walk in here and assume—“

renjun was interrupted by jaemin holding his hand up and giving him a look, then he turned back to the girl with a serious look on his face “i apologize miss, but i’m afraid you have the wrong idea. the club’s foundation isn’t built on what you’re accusing us of. if you wish to know, then i’d be happy to speak privately with you but not now, i have guests to keep company.”

jaemin then turned around to walk back, but not before he looked over his shoulder one last time “you’re free to stay if you like, but if you’re just going to stand there and stare at everyone, then i’ll kindly ask you to leave, thank you”

the girl chose to leave and for the rest of the day, the members and guests were in low spirits

when the club closed for the day, jaemin went home by himself, which was different from his usual antic where he’d take the other members out for some food and just hang out, but today seemed to rlly bring him down

all everyone else could do was sadly watch him walk down the street to his house

the next day wasn’t any better, after the new girl’s outburst the other day, fewer guests came to the music room that day

when asked why their friends didn’t show up, they said that it was bc of what happened

and to make matters worse, rumors started spreading around the school about how jaemin was actually a player and he only started the club to make easy money and meet girls

of course none of that was true, but jaemin chose not to say anything, much to the surprise of everyone else

“jae, you know those rumors aren’t true so why aren’t you saying anything to defend yourself?”

jaemin just smiled at his friends “do you guys believe those rumors?” and they all shook their heads vigorously, making jaemin smile wider

“good, then that’s all that matters. people can say what they want about me, their opinions don’t matter. as long as the seven of us know the truth, then that’s all i need” he patted chenle and jisung’s shoulders before slinging his backpack over his shoulder

“besides, we still have some guests who continue to enjoy our company, wouldn’t want to keep them waiting right?”

when the seven of them walked into the music room, they were surprised to see you standing by the door

mark was the first to greet you “oh, hey y/n what are you doing here?”

you were the a member of the newspaper club and due to low fundings, your club leader had you go out and find out what you could about the host club and write a juicy story about them

he claimed that if you could create a story that exposed the club for who they really are, then the school would buy more newspapers which meant more funding for the club

you didn’t wanna do it, considering you were really close with mark, but you had no choice if you wanted the newspaper to survive.....so here you were

“oh um...i’m here to do a story on the host club....f-for the school newsp—“

“forget it y/n, we know what you’re up to” hyuck cut you off w a sneer and you winced, but before you could reply jaemin walked up to you with a small but dazzling smile on his face

“a news story about the host club? that’s fantastic! i’m in” and everyone’s just like what the hell jae you just said—

“i don’t care what people have to say about me, but i’m not going to let anyone slander our club’s reputation, so i’m willing to do this” he looked back at me “under one condition”

“and that is??”

“before you publish your story, i want to read it first. i won’t say anything about it, i just want to read it. do we have a deal?” he stuck his hand out and you stared at for a second before shaking it “.....deal”

jaemin grinned and clapped his hand on your shoulder “well, it’s a pleasure to have you here y/n”

for the next few weeks, you’ve been attending the usual club hours and observing how the hosts interact with the guests, occasionally asking them questions about the club and how it works

you’ve been attending their club meetings too, but to your surprise, all they do is discuss a theme for the next day and then jaemin takes you all out for some food and just hang out

one time, you were curious as to why jaemin and the others continued on w the club despite the rumors so you decided to ask

he ponders your question for a moment before he looks at you with a gentle look on his face

“because we’re all invested in this club y/n, the other hosts have become my second family and making our guests happy is what we all love to do. it’s not for the money or the chance to meet girls, but to make someone’s day just a little brighter”

you wrote down his response, but you were a little shocked to say the least, you didn’t expect that to come from him

a few more days pass and now you’re just about ready to edit and publish your paper, but it’s not quite what you expected

you were sent to write a juicy, gossip story about the host club, but instead all your notes said good things about it

the time you spent with the hosts, especially jaemin, opened your eyes and you realized that those rumors were untrue, the host club wasn’t some way for the members to meet girls, and jaemin wasn’t a player at all

he genuinely cared about everyone who walked into that room and made it his goal to have them walk out happier than when they walked in

you thought about it for a moment before you knew what you had to do

later that night, you pieced the story together, making sure to include every little detail and the next morning, you handed jaemin a copy

but to your surprise, he gave it back to you

“i thought you wanted to read it before it was published?”

but jaemin shook his head and shoved his hands into his pockets “nah it’s okay. i’ll trust your judgement”

you were left speechless as jaemin reached up to ruffle your hair, smiling at you once more before walking to class

later that same day, you published the article with a headline that said: “the truth about the host club”

and when you bumped into jaemin in the hallway, he waved a copy of the newspaper in your face and chuckled “i knew i could trust your judgement y/n, thank you”

thanks to you, not only did the host club gain most of its guests back, but the newspaper reached a new peak in fundings bc of the amount of copies that were sold that day, it was a win-win situation

as for jaemin, the rumors about him stopped circulating thru the school and everyone finally knew the his real motives

even the girl who had caused the whole thing came in one day and apologized sincerely for making assumptions

after the article about the host club was published, none of the hosts really got see you around the school anymore

but one day

it was another normal day for the hosts when they heard a gentle knock on the door

mark opened the door only for you to walk inside

the hosts all greeted you warmly

“hey y/n! long time no see, how’ve you been?” hyuck asked

“i’ve been doing great, and i can see you all feel the same”

they all smiled at you before jisung piped up “whatcha doing here y/n? are you doing another story on us?”

you smiled “actually no....i came here as a guest”

seven pairs of eyes widened in shock at your statement

“i hope you guys don’t mind”

“of course we don’t mind y/n!” chenle threw his arm around your shoulder “alrighty then, take your pick! which one of us is more your type?”

you looked around at all their faces before your eyes landed on jaemin

you smirked “well, i’ve actually been really interested in the princely types lately so..”

#nct #nct dream #nct scenarios #nct dream scenarios #nct au #nct dream au #jaemin scenarios #jaemin au #happy jaemin day

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fmdtaeyongarchive · 5 years

Text

↬ walking on eggshells, trying not to burn the hell out.

date: march 2019

location: bc practice room.

word count: 1,142 words.

summary: i do not have the energy to write a summary

notes: n/a

“you don’t seem happy. on stage.”

ash doesn’t expect the other man to speak, and less than that, speak those words. ash has spent many late nights in bc practice rooms with one of his choreographer hyungs in the past ten years since he became a trainee, but the stretching is usually done in silence. it’s a dancer’s ritual ash prefers to conduct when he can be in his own head. sixteen years of dancing have taught him there’s no reason to distract himself from the pull of his muscles as he stretches his legs to the side. the burn is all the more satisfying for the silence of it.

they’re getting ready to run through choreography for his solo concert, which is sure to take a few hours at least, so he assumes the other man is preserving his energy by clearing his head like ash is. it quickly becomes apparent that isn’t the case.

“the light isn’t in your eyes anymore.” that causes ash to look up at him. it’s out of nowhere, and ash doesn’t have any idea what prompted it. “you still try, sometimes, i can tell, but you’re not dancing the same.”

ash tries to play off his shock with a laugh and breaks his self-imposed silence. “ah, hyung, i am a lot older than i was back then.” but the look on the other man’s face doesn’t change. there are no crinkles of his crow’s feet or a twitch of his lips. that’s when ash knows he’s being serious.

“the boy i used to know, the you i used to know, he came into the company expressing so openly with his body when he danced. for a kid, it was impressive how well you spoke with dance.” it’s clear he’s not lying about remembering, and ash is surprised. “your korean has gotten so much better since then, but your words could never tell me half of what your dance did. i used to get on you during evaluations for sacrificing technique for emotion, remember?” and ash does, but he doesn’t nod or say anything. “i miss that from you.”

yeah, well, i miss a lot of shit, too, ash thinks, but knows better than to voice aloud. the choreographer hasn’t given him a reason to be rude, though he hadn’t asked for constructive criticism on his overall dedication. he got enough of that from netizens.

“i’m trying,” he answers quietly after letting the silence stretch between them. “i’m doing better. people aren’t getting on my case like they were last year.” and it’s a little too raw; ash has made it too clear that the wound is still a little too open.

“it’s not about that. it’s about you. i know it wasn’t being named a lead dancer instead of a main dancer that stole that light from you, because i still saw it when i would walk in on you practicing back when you first debuted.” it feels like a slap to the face and ash avoids looking at him. is that what he thinks this is about? that ash is holding a seven year long grudge about a position that doesn’t really matter at the end of the day? ash couldn’t care less about positions. he’s been an idol for seven years. if he cared so much about positions, it all would have been even harder to bear.

“no. i was never going to be a main dancer. i knew that. i accepted it. they deserved those positions, the members that got them. they could outdance me with their hands tied behind their back back then. still can. other trainees that didn’t even make the lineup could, too. you said it yourself. my technique was lacking. still is, obviously,” ash tries to finish with a half-hearted laugh, but he’s avoiding the topic of the older man’s critiques. it has nothing to do with anyone else. ash’s passion faded naturally. it was bound to happen. not every love could last forever.

“that’s not it. that’s not what i mean.” the man means to be getting frustrated now, but he’s fighting it back. “i only want to know... did you find something else to love the way you did dance?”

ash looks up at him again, eyes wide and unsure. “music.” it’s barely loud enough to break the silence of the studio, but he knows the other man hears it. “making music. writing. producing.” he doesn’t question his answer for a second, but it’s an odd sensation to say it out loud, to confess so bluntly that the love and connection he’d once felt so strongly for dance had sprouted anew in creating music now. it’d done so a long time ago, but it’s so much safer not to speak it. admitting his passion for dance, that he wanted to pursue it all the way to a new country in an industry he knew little about, is what had amounted in its slow death. the choreographer doesn’t say anything, but ash speaks again. “it’s mine... it’s something that’s mine.” his eyes scream what goes unspoken: that ownership over dance had been taken away from him and that had been the origin of where he is today.

the absence of words stretches on so long, tension begins to creep up ash’s back.

“i’m going to cancel practice tonight.” it feels a little bit like a punishment, but the look on the man’s face is kind and ash can read that there’s no anger behind his words. the tension eases itself from his spine again.

“i’ll meet you back here the same time tomorrow, but you’re fine. over practicing will do more harm than good.”

ash doesn’t say anything. he just looks at the man as he stands up and packs his things. he’s being serious.

“wh—” ash is cut off.

“don’t stress yourself. take some time for yourself.”

it all happens too quickly for ash to completely process, but soon, he’s alone on the floor of the dance studio. he meets his own gaze in the mirror and sits like that for a while. it’s impossible to know how long. he can’t tell if time is stretching on or flying by, but, eventually, he stands. he doesn’t leave, though, not like he thought he would.

more time passes, the clock ticking by even in ash’s absence of checking it, and it’s the early hours of the morning when ash leans, sweaty and exhausted against the wall, gripping his water bottle and unscrewing the lid. he hadn’t practiced, but he had danced, and for the first time in a long time, it’d been freeing instead of constricting. for the first time in years, he’d let his heart show in dance to an audience that wasn’t there, not by force or self-flagellation, but because something within him wanted to.

#&& bring color to my skies | character development #&& when you're screaming but they only hear you whisper | self para #&& queued

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sunnysidewrites · 6 years

Text

Neighbor!Woozi

based on this post hehehe

i just fed yall TWICE. in the span of just 2 DAYS!!! AND THEY’RE BOTH MORE OR LESS THE SAME LONG ASS LENGTH!!! yeah that’s right i went overboard again gtg

happy happy bday to the lovely admin bee of @mansaeboysbe you are such a beautiful person inside and out, and im incredibly proud to know someone like you :’))) i’ve already sent a bday message to you so im not tryna redo it LOL but just know that i love you a whole lot and i always will! 💗💗💗💗💓💓 (she’s also the same person who gave me those beautiful headers on my mlist so please give her tons of love <333) love you sm hub hope you have a wonderful and fantastic day!!!

*to all the mutuals with bdays that have either passed or are coming up, i love you all SO FREAKING MUCH so pls dont feel left out!! it just so happened that i wanted to write this au for a long time and i wanted to present it as a bday gift for this jihoon stan hehe but i rlly love each every single one of u ok babes? <333*

warnings: i feel like i dragged this on for too long but i hope it’s still cute :’)) also i put in a joke like twice LOL anyways lil wooz only gets tongue-tied around you so you become his muse for songs

You were looking for a place to stay in bc “I am a grown adult i am not living with yall anymore” you @ your parents

And they’re like lol ok Good Luck Kiddo

After a month and a half of deeeeep searching you finally find a reasonably priced place to live in

It’s quite a distance from your parents’ home but it’s the point of you moving out to begin with

On the move-in day, you’re carrying your boxes up to your new apartment complex and you hear some tunes drifting from your next door neighbor

And you’re like hey this is actually really good music but i’ve never heard of it

You shrug it off and continue settling in

Once you finished hauling your boxes, you were about to pass out on your couch

Ok you actually did pass out on your couch

But you had to unpack some necessities later that night for bathroom and bedroom purposes

All you had for dinner was pop in some instant ramen and call it a night. You then hopped in the shower and got ready for bed

The following morning it was primarily you unpacking and shifting around your furniture a little but it was challenging by yourself

You were making a good amount of noise and in the middle of the day you were met with a very loud knock on your door

And you were in the middle of unpacking your kitchenware so you were like oh shoot ahh i’ll be right there!!

Little did you know your next door neighbor wasn’t having any of it

Can’t I get some peace and quiet around here? He grumbled as he impatiently waited for you to open the door

I swear, I’m gonna tell them off they won’t even knOW what will hit--

You finally opened the door, and he’s like oh. My gosh.

You had a few pieces of hair sticking to your forehead and your hair was tied back in a messy bun

You were dressed in a faded coral tee underneath a pair of worn-out denim overalls with house slippers

Everything he planned to complain about suddenly vanished and his first thought was:

“Is that Pikachu on your front pocket?”

Apparently he said that aloud, which he didn’t register until he saw you giggling

“Yeah, it was a hand-me-down! Still cute, right?”

And he’s kinda still just staring at you with his mouth slightly agape

And you’re like oh right ahem did you need anything?

That’s when he notices the utter mess behind you: plastic covering still over some of your furniture, half-emptied boxes littered in almost every inch of the floor, etc.

And that’s when it hits him: all that noise was you unpacking

“O-oh yeah, I just,, wanted to let you know that it was getting a little loud since I live right next door”

He silently curses at himself like i almost went off at my new neighbor rip that wasn’t gonna be a good first impression

Luckily for him, you were chill about it and you’re like omg sorry!!! It’s a little tough doing this by myself, sorry for the ruckus

Before he could stop himself, he blurted out, “do you need any help?”

Jihoon internally: u doofus u have an album to produce whAT ARE U DOING

Jihoon externally: i can help you :))) no matter how smol i may be

But that internal reprimanding melted away when he saw your eyes light up in relief and you’re practically bouncing up and down

“Would you, really??? It would be great if I had another hand around! Oh, but you’re probably occupied doing something, right??” and you feel bad that a stranger, your next door neighbor nonetheless, was about to abandon his work just for you

A cute neighbor, at that

Jihoon is like ok this is your chance to get away and go back to work cmon man

But there’s just something about you that pulls him in magnetically and he finds himself trying to reason internally that it’ll just be for a “few moments”

Yyyeaaahhh that doesn’t happen lmao rip Jihoon’s songs

Jihoon is just like “nah it’s fine I can help out for a bit” and you’re like god bless this human being

When you open your door further to let him in, he’s like oh right btw I’m Jihoon

“I’m y/n! Sorry about the mess, I only got here yesterday evening”

He shakes his head and quirks up his lips ever so slightly, “i remember when my place looked like this too except replace this space with music production things”

And you’re like ooOOoOoOO you make songs??? That’s amazing!!

And that’s when you got the ball rolling!!!

“A few moments” turn into hours and the next thing you know it’s dinnertime

“Oh crap sorry for keeping you for this long,,, those songs won’t produce themselves, right? I think I can take it from here”

Admittedly, jihoon didn’t wanna leave just yet bc he actually enjoyed your company and it was nice taking a break from staring at his screen frustratedly

“Well, I don’t mind helping out. I could show you my work one day if you want”

And you’re like holy cheeseballs yES

He starts getting up and brushing off his clothes and you’re a little sad that he’s leaving and he kinda is too :(

“If you’re not too busy tomorrow, you’re welcome to help me out more! I mean, you already helped me a whole lot today, but there’s still some things left to do”

As much as his brain is telling him to NOT DO IT,,,,

He does it

Next thing you know, jihoon is at your door again around the same time and he has something in his hand

As you let him inside, you ask him what it is and he’s like ;))))

“It’s a CD that compiled just a few songs I thought you might like”

And you’re #shook bc did he really just have a CD like this out in the open or did he really take his time yesterday to transfer songs on it??

“Do you have a player or a laptop?”

“Yeah, my laptop is on my bed, you can bring it out here!” You shout over your shoulder as you arrange your things in the living room

Shortly afterwards he emerges from the hallway and he presses a few buttons and clicks here and there and beautiful melodies ring out from your speakers

You can’t help but stop rustling to take in the sweet tunes and you’re just like :’))) have i heard anything so beautiful??? :’)))

One of the songs sound vaguely familiar and you realize it’s what you heard when you first arrived here

“Did you actually produce this??? This sounds like an actual song you can hear on the radio”

And he’s like yep made by yours truly!!!

He was only using “yours truly” half-metaphorically if you know what I mean ;)))

You keep bouncing to all the catchy tunes and swaying to the soulful ones

And in all honesty, seeing your reactions makes Jihoon feel really warm and even a little proud bc it’s one of the biggest reasons why he loves his job so much

He makes eye contact with you and you’re like :D and he’s like ahEM COuGh coUGh i’m gonna dust this shelf over here

He suddenly stands up and busies himself and you’re like ???? okie dokie

He’s a real help around the place and you’re practically done settling in

As you survey your fresh living space, you can’t help but feel a little…. Disheartened?

Bc it was actually really fun to have him around even while he made blunt remarks about your taste of decorations

“This looks like something my five-year-old niece would have”

“For your information, I got that from a five-year-old!! It’s cute, alright!”

You spent the past three days with Jihoon unpacking and talking about whatever comes to mind

Jihoon is pretty devastated that he has to go back to his makeshift studio in his room as much as he will never admit it

He eventually leaves your place and the both of you are just sad little puppies

From then on, every time you pass by each other, you greet him with a friendly smile and wave and you never fail to make his heart skip several beats

You don’t talk as much as how you first started bc he’s gotten much busier trying to mass-produce a lot of songs

For some strange reason, every time you hear a melody coming from the other side of the walls, you feel like you’re somehow connected with him

Well, except for the muffled cursing LMAO

And sometimes you would also hear several male voices at once and you’re guessing they’re his friends or the people he’s working with on the song, but based on their friendly banter and the constant run-throughs, it’s probably both

You would hear the same melody play over and over again, and you’re guessing he’s stuck on a certain part of a song as he tries to recreate new melodies from that point on

“aaAAGHGHHHGGHHHH” *deep sigh* me trying to overcome writer’s block LMAO

This would happen for about half an hour and you can’t help but wanting to reach out to him, but you’re not exactly the most musically-inclined person sadly

When he ultimately calms down, he goes back to working on the song until he finally gets the results he desires

More often than not, you fall asleep from hearing the slow ballads he creates with a smile on your face

Lil Jihoon does try to visit you and vice versa!! He sometimes shows up with random food and more CDs and you’re wondering just how many songs has this guy produced in his lifetime??? He looks around the same age as you but he’s probably produced 26+ songs by the way he packs a decent amount on each CD

Usually his excuse to sharing a meal with you is that “the guys brought over too much and i have a ton of leftovers that i can’t finish by myself”

In reality, he stared at a restaurant’s menu and contemplated for about twenty minutes about what you would like. This guy’s got dedication not just for work

“Would it be weird if i get fried chicken?? Maybe just a bowl of noodles?? What if soup is better??? It would give weird vibes if i bought drinks too, right?? Or should i just go ahead and buy them???”

Regardless of what he buys, you’re eager to eat anything and everything with your fav neighbor *wink wonk*

You feel bad when he would do that though, so you try to return the favor every so often as well

One time, you ordered some takeout but the servings were waaaaay bigger than advertised and you’re like Idea!! Let’s head over next door!! So you took the plastic bags and put in some drinks before heading out the door

You knocked on the door and that was when you heard light chatter on the other side of the door

You’re like sldjfljds i hope im not interrupting anything aaa mAYBE I SHOULD JUST LEAVE--

Too late, someone’s voice rang out “I’ll get it!” and next thing you know, the door swings out to reveal a face you’ve never seen before

“Oh, hi!” He says a little surprisedly but with a smile nevertheless

“H-hi, umm,,,, is Jihoon there?”

The guy is nodding his head in the direction of the back hallway, “yeah, he’s in the bathroom” and that’s when he looks down at your hands and his eyes instantly light up

“Omg did you bring food?? You’re so thoughtful!! Come in, come in!!” and before you could protest he literally drags you in and you’re met with a bunch of other strangers who are staring back at you like :oooo????

“Who’s this?? Jihoon never mentioned someone coming over today,, AND YOU CAN’T JUST DRAG SOMEONE IN THIS ISN’T YOUR HOME”

And you’re like ya i didnt know either lmao

You’re awkwardly shifting on your feet and praying jihoon will pop up instantaneously bc you’re gonna melt in embarrassment

“I just wanted to give him some of this,” you hold up your hands to gesture your food, “since it’s too much for me to finish on my own”

“Oh that’s cool! Some of the other guys are actually out to get more lunch, but food goes out fast with all of us here,” another guy says as he pats your shoulder reassuringly. “Well, since you’re already here, you can join us!”

“I-it’s ok! I hope I wasn’t interrupting anything, I just wanted to deliver this,,, I’ll get going” and you’re about to zOOM outta there but the same guy who ushered you in is like nO DONT LEAVE

“We’re taking a lunch break, so it’s cool if you join us! I’m Soonyoung” and he’s like :DDD and you’re just like ,,,, what a hyper guy but i like him

Everyone goes around to introducing themselves

you do a headcount of 8 and you remember there’s more guys getting food for them,,,, holy heck how many people do they have???? You’re about to introduce yourself after them but then

“Soonyoung, who was at the door--” a familiar voice calls out in the hallway before he emerges

And jihoon is like dsljLSJDF what the hELL

“Y/N??? What are you doing here???” *side eyes soonyoung*

And everyone’s making eyes at each other like waIT WAIT THIS IS Y/N???

“Soonyoung dragged me inside”

“Gdi soonyoung, how many times do i have to tell you that you can’t go around dragging people to join us???”

This guy who you think is named Seokmin pipes up, “yeah he does this all the time at our workplace too. A lot of our coworkers always end up extending their stay for far too long” and you’re nodding slowly like yeahhh i can see that happening

Soonyoung’s eyes are widened and he turns to jihoon like “is this the y/n that inspired your recent so--”

And jihoon is quick to cover his mouth so his voice is all muffled

“aHahaAHHAH soonyoung’s always the joker, april fools day!!! Let’s set the table, the others should be back soon”

jihoon whispering to soonyoung: you better sleep with one eye open tonight boi

And you’re like uhh alrighty :)))???

About twenty minutes after you’ve arrived, there’s another knock on the door

Soonyoung is practically bouncing on his way to the door and you can hear more unknown voices

They’re filing in and they suddenly stop and look at you like wait what

Them: :o????

You: :))),,, what up

Jeonghan briefly explains the situation to the guy who came in the door first and you’re lowkey intimidated bc he seems to be eldest and looks like he could beat you up to a pulp

BOY WERE YOU WRONG

After jeonghan tells him, he breaks out into this gigantic, cute gummy smile like welcome!! :DD i’m seungcheol! And the other guys behind him follow suit

Jeonghan’s like “this is,, y/n” and everyone tries to be subtle and nods like they didn’t hear jihoon babble on and on about you for weeks

You: ok why do yall act all weird when my name is brought up whAT DID JIHOON TELL YOU

Them: i would tell you but i don’t wanna die just yet sorry dude

Jihoon, somewhere in the kitchen: SET! THE! TABLE!

You end up staying there for a pretty long time, bonding over the whole feast you have and it’s really lively and fun, not to mention super loud with 13 guys in the same room,,, but you’re genuinely having a good time

Jihoon would glance at you nervously occasionally to check on you if you’re uncomfortable in any way

Jeonghan, who’s sitting next to him, notices jihoon’s eyes are practically glued to you and he’s like “is this the part where you confess your undying love and propose”

And jihoon is like shUT UP NO WHAT this chicken tastes great *quickly chugs down water*

You look back at jihoon sometimes and see he looks flushed but it’s not like he’s drinking alcohol

“Jihoon are you feeling ok?? Your ears are bright red” which obviously makes them redder rip

“I-i’m fine,, wow is it hot in here maybe it’s just the spiciness of the chicken let’s open the windows”

You eventually leave them as much as they protest and even try to get Jihoon to guilt trip you (unsuccessfully)

“Don’t leave just yet y/n!! You should stay, right Jihoon???”

“Huh?? O-oh yeah, I mean, you can if you want,,,,, we kinda need to work though”

Everyone’s looking at jihoon like bro wTF are u kidding me

Rip reader i can feel your heart drop :’(((

You’re feeling slightly dejected but you nod understandingly. You’ve already stayed far longer than you anticipated anyways, and work comes first for Jihoon

“Yeah, I totally get it! Good luck on the album guys!” You put on your shoes and close the door

When they finally hear your own door close, they’re attacking jihoon like

“SO Y/N IS THE ONE BEHIND ALL YOUR SAPPY LOVE SONGS HUH!!!”

“I knew it, the lyrics just suddenly got cheesier -- there had to be someone behind all of that”

And jihoon is just praying you won’t hear what they’re saying like “SHUT UP THESE WALLS ARE THIN”

Back at your apartment, it suddenly feels much emptier and lonelier

“What am i doing,,, I just met the guys for like two hours???”

You sigh and you try to busy yourself doing other things but you hear a loud commotion on the other side of the walls with just a bunch of incoherent shouting

You smile and laugh to yourself when you think about how close they all are

Your smile slowly fades when you start wishing you wanna be close to Jihoon and you’re like snAP OUT OF IT!!!

A couple of weeks pass by uneventfully but you notice that Jihoon has gotten more reserved around you

It’s just him being bashful around you and he panics every time he sees you but obviously he doesn’t want you to know that

You’re standing at your little mini balcony and admiring your cute little cactus plants

Just as you start thinking about him and his wellbeing, you hear your name and you’re like wHO’S THERE

You look down and see Jihoon staring back at you and honestly he looks like he’s awestruck by your whole beauty bc seriously everything you wear always looks super good to him

[insert photo]

(also pretend he’s holding plastic bags)

He holds up his hands and you’re laughing bc you know exactly what that means

“Come on up!”

There’s a knock on your door promptly afterwards and what do you know!!! It’s the man himself!!!

It’s just funny how the both of you have this ongoing routine that you know what to expect

When you let him in, he places the bags on your table and quickly smiles to himself when he sees your laptop on your bed

You and Jihoon both mindlessly do your respective roles as usual

He slowly comes out in the living room with your laptop and he’s like “so the album is pretty much done now,,, i can’t release all of the songs yet but there’s one i want you to listen to. I’ll show you after we eat”

You’re like ooo im excited and you start catching up with him as you’re eating

You can’t contain your excitement any longer, so as soon as you eat the last bit of your food, you’re like “oKAY SHOW ME IT NOW” as you’re restlessly shifting on your legs

He nods and pulls up the media player on your laptop. He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath before pressing play

It’s a melody you’re quite acquaintanced with after hearing it countless times at night, the same tune that lulls you to sleep

You have high expectations for this song, and surely he surpasses them with flying colors

You’re enjoying the song and telling him “wow this is a really good song!” when suddenly some lyrics catch your attention

You hear something about messy hair pulled back, ruffled clothes, eating meals

And you’re like huh that sounds a lot like us haha is that supposed to be me??

Jihoon is avoiding eye contact with you and looking down at his fidgeting hands as the song progresses in its later verses

The lyrics talk about wanting to develop a deeper relationship, one where “it’s okay to tell me anything, your hardships and desires. I just want to see you smile” and you’re like wait,,,,

And one of the final lyrics says something about “i can’t help feeling like this, will you accept my hand?” and you’re like wait wait w a i t

The song comes to an end and silence fills the room

You’re not sure whether you should speak up first or wait for him, but either way you’re speechless and wouldn’t know what to say anyways

Jihoon clears his throat awkwardly and stumbles on his words poor bby

“S-so, yeah,,,, I’ve been working on this one the longest,,,, umm do you,,, like it?”

But you know better that he’s not just talking about the song

“Nah sorry man i’m not interested”

“O.”

April fools kiddos ofc you are

“....yeah. I do like it”

And he finally brings himself to look at you and he’s like !!!!! really????

“Wait, for real??? You actually like it???”

He’s pretty much paralyzed in shock and all he can do is watch your hand move towards his and hold it

“I like it a lot, Jihoon :)”

He blinks slowly and he can’t fight the grin that spreads on his face as he grips your hand back

“I’m accepting your hand now heehee ^^”

“Okay let’s not talk about that”

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