#since louis has a right dimple

[petersasteria]

Nonsense - E.P.

Pairing: Evan Peters x SabrinaCarpenter!Reader Summary: You mentioned him in your Nonsense outro. Did he listen to it? What was his reaction? How can you confront him when he's standing right in front of you at an after-party? Warning/s: none (i think), super fluff and some flirtatious banter A/N: Y/N is still Y/N in this one. The reader is just Sab in a musical way, but in terms of looks and everything, it's all you, babes <3

Words: 1055

Ever since you started your career, you’ve had the biggest crush on Evan Peters. Your paths have yet crossed, but you hoped that day would come sooner. Recently, your song ‘Nonsense’ has gone viral and for all the right reasons. It was catchy, it was flirty, and it was relatable to anyone who’s feeling this type of way for their crush or partner. Needless to say, it was a hit. When you announced your tour, all your fans were hyped up because they knew you’d be singing that song. What they didn’t know was that you’d come up with outros for specific cities you’ll be going to.

When you arrived at St. Louis, Missouri, you were excited to perform. You’ve been there a few times and your fans from there have always been energetic and lively. When it was time to sing ‘Nonsense’, everyone cheered when they heard the intro. You were singing and dancing around and as you were nearing the end of the song, all your fans pulled out their phones and started filming. You smiled as you sang the outro:

This song catchier than chicken pox is

I bet your house is where my other sock is 

Woke up this morning thought I’d write a pop hit

How quickly can you take your clothes off pop quiz

Everyone cheered before your improv outro. You chuckled a little before singing:

You guys are like family, not strangers

The crowd here in St. Louis are all lovers

My crush is from here, hello Evan Peters

As soon as everyone heard ‘Evan Peters’, your fans lost it. It immediately went viral. All your friends knew about your undying love for Evan Peters and they weren’t shocked when you confessed your love for him via concert. You, however, didn’t think much of it. After all, he’s such a big, big star. He also doesn’t have social media, so you were pretty confident that videos of you singing that verse won’t reach him.

But boy were you wrong. So wrong.

Somehow someone sent Evan the video and he found it entertaining and flattering. He thought it was the end of it, but of course he was asked about it at red carpet events and interviews. Every time he was asked about it, he’d always give a hearty laugh or a bright smile, and he’d say, “I find it flattering that I’m still qualified to be someone’s crush. It’s really cute and endearing.”

“Do you think there’s a chance for you and Y/N to date?” The interviewer would ask. He’d chuckle, shrug it off, and say something generic like, “Maybe.” or “Who knows, y’know? We never know what the future holds.”

Both of you went on with your careers until you finally met the man of your dreams at one event’s after party. You saw each other from afar and waved to each other. You took a deep breath and asked the bartender for another shot before taking it for liquid courage to approach your crush. Luckily for you, Evan was already on his way towards you. You turned around and were surprised to come face to face with him. He gave you a cute dimpled smile and said, “Hey, you’re Y/N Y/L/N, right? I recently learned that the verse you mentioned me in was actually improv. I’m very flattered.”

“Aww! It’s something I like to do in every city I’m in. When I realized I was performing in your hometown, I immediately changed the last line.” You said to him before flashing him a big smile.

“Oh, that’s so cool! Can I hear the original before the change?” He asked nicely.

“Oh, sure! It’s supposed to go: ‘you guys are like family, not strangers, the crowd here in St. Louis are all lovers, I don’t mind what they all say, fuck them haters’.” You sang to him.

“Hey, that’s good too! I’m obviously biased now that I’ve heard the one with my name in it.” Evan cheekily said.

You didn’t know what came over you (probably the alcohol in your system), but you had this sudden burst of flirting energy. You smiled at him flirtatiously and said, “I can always put your name in every outro I do.”

He caught on and raised an eyebrow, “Really?”

“Yeah, but you have to earn it.”

“How?” Evan asked with a cheeky grin. You were surprised at your back and forth flirting, but you liked it too much to stop.

“Well, we have to date, of course.” You said to him, smiling. He nodded with a bright smile before saying, “I mean I’d ask you out, but I’d have to hear another improv outro to convince me.”

“Is that so? Lucky for you, I’m a genius when it comes to that.” You grinned. You thought for a bit and sang:

This song catchier than chicken pox is

I bet your house is where my other sock is

Woke up this morning thought I’d write a pop hit

How quickly can you take your clothes off pop quiz

We are at the Oscars after party

I can be so flirty and so classy

If you date me I can show you dirty”

He looked impressed and gave you a dimpled grin and an applause. “That was amazing! So, when are you free?”

Your eyes widened. To be honest, you didn’t think he’d actually ask you out. You thought it was just playful flirting. Little did you know you already got his heart and attention. You intrigued him and he wanted more.

“Well, I’m free this week. I’ll go back on tour next week.” You told him as he nodded. He grabbed his phone to check the calendar and asked, “Does Thursday at 8pm sound good?” You frantically nodded and he chuckled at your reaction.

“Alright, Thursday it is, then. Can I ask one favor?”

“Anything for you, handsome.” You winked, making him blush.

“That outro you did… Can you sing it live on tour? I kinda wanna hear you sing about wanting me in front of a crowd.” Evan smirked. This man will be the death of you.

“Like I said, anything for you, handsome.” You grinned, exchanged numbers, and parted ways, not wanting anyone to bring attention to the both of you… not yet, at least.

----

A/N: There'll be part 2 dw ;) hope y'all enjoyed this as much as I did writing it hihi

#evan peters #evan peters x reader #evan peters fic #evan peters fanfic #evan thomas peters #evan peters x y/n #evan peters x you #evan peters imagine #evan peters fanfiction

[watermelonsugacry]

1dbandmember!yn and the boys water fight and harry giver her his shirt cause hers was see through

he so would.

Harry would already be sitting down on his spot on the risen platforms on the catwalk of the stage, a fond smile on his face as he watches YN, Louis and Liam run around with water bottles in their hands as they ruthlessly drench one another. He turns his gaze to the big screens on his left and huffs out a laugh when he sees YN throw the whole uncapped plastic bottle at Liam's back.

As Louis begins to introduce the next song, Harry's dimples disappear and his eyebrows pinch together when he sees her turn around to walk over to her designated seating spot, pushing her dripping hair away from her face and the camera picks up her black bra under her fitted, white t-shirt. Thankfully, the screen quickly changes to a shot of the boys talking again.

In her defense, she wasn't expecting to wear the white shirt for the show. If it wasn't for Niall offering her a chip from his nacho bowel a minute before they had to be in their positions to get on stage and for her dropping said chip on her black long-sleeve top, she would've thought to change into a white bra instead.

She'd also hope that if Louis or Liam would drag her into a water fight, they would have the decency to wait until the end of the show. So much for wishful thinking.

So as she walks to her spot next to Harry with her arms crossed over her chest in hopes to cover up until her shirt dries, Harry's already plucking the cuff of his sleeve and pulls his sweatshirt over his head. The fans all scream at catching a glimpse of his fern tattoos as his undershirt began to rise up.

When YN takes her seat beside him, he wordlessly hands her the sweatshirt. Knowing her stubborn self, she'd normally give him a dismissive wave of her hand, push the clothing item away and/or playfully roll her eyes saying something like yeh probably need it more than I do. So he has to admit that he's pleasantly surprised when she takes it with a grateful smile.

When she pushes her arms through the sleeves and tucks it over her head, she's immediately engulfed with the scent of his Ford cologne. He's trying so hard to suppress his smile at the sight of her in his clothes but it doesn't last long. Especially when she begins to gather her damp hair up and scoots herself closer to him to say in his ear, "I hope yeh know that yeh never gonna get this back."

He just has the most boyish smile on his face throughout the rest of the show. As they sing Right Now, fans can see the hearts in his eyes when she holds the microphone stand with sweater paws. Or when she turns to him and shows him how his sweater ends mid-thigh, their shoulders go up to their ears as they giggle at the sight. And what a sight it is for him to see her do her usual dances and prances around the stage with his clothes.

It makes the goosebumps on his arms from the chilly weather so worth it.

SINCE 2010 masterlist

taglist:

@wobblymug @be-with-me-so-happily @ashtongivesmebutterflies @kiwiskiwiskiwi @darlingdesire @obsesseddd @hopefulwastelandcreation @cacapeepee @breezie-b00 @harrysfolklore @theekyliepage @sunshinemoonsposts @nervousspiderling @tbslonelyhes @tenaciousperfectionunknown @harrystylesrecs @certified-nalayak @itsjustsel @iknowyouthinkimbulletproof @gviosca @behindmygreyeyes @twobluejeans @allisonxmcu @theemeraldbutterfly @jean-love @marvellover-sam @b-reads-things @reveriehs @rach2602 @thurhomish @perrypughstyles @luvonstyles @mxltifxnd0m @teamspideyman @c00chiemonster @juiceboxrry @s8tellite @folklorehrry @illicithallways @claramllera @eunoiaax @hoya122 @nichmedder @sleutherclaw @gloriousmoneyrascalbiscuit @harianaswhore @teawithcyb0rgs @vrittivsanghavi @vc55bughead @futuristiccroissantlampsludge @onecrazydirectioner @valluvsu @itsgabbysblog @awkwardbisexuall @rosehel @sucker4angstt @isalove @diorchives @mrshiddlestyles02

#i miss writing lovies #currently avoiding eye contact with my uni work #harry x 1dbandmember!reader #since 2010 series #harry styles x reader #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x you #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles imagine #harry styles blurb #harry styles #one direction #harry styles fanfic #harry styles writing #harry styles one shot #harry styles fic #harry styles and reader #harry styles and you #harry styles and y/n #famous!yn #famous!reader #one direction ot5 #one direction fanfiction #1dbandmember!yn

[aurelim]

Louis/Eloise

The Royal

❝I have to. It's my duty to serve the people of Oceanic.❞ ❝Listen to me. Ignore what everyone else will say. You are perfect the way you are. You are my everything, love.❞

Age: A month younger than MC

Race: Human

Gender: Male or female, depending on player choice

Pronouns: He/him or she/her, depending on player choice

Physical appearance: The Royal has slightly tanned skin due to intensive time spent in the sun, although their parents try their best to maintain the natural fair-pale shade. They have a heart shaped face framed by wavy red hair, either tamed or tied up in a bun with two small strands on the side. Soft brown eyes that can go cold at a poor choice of words and freckles dotting their cheeks. 5'7" no matter the gender.

Trope(s): Forbidden love, impossible love, royalty, [REDACTED]

As the heir to the throne of Oceanic, the Royal has a heavy weight on their shoulders that they cannot shake off—the expectations of the people and their parents often reminds them of their duty to deliver responsible decision for the betterment of the kingdom. For most of the week, they are cooped up within the castle walls, fulfilling their tasks as the one next in line. However, during a small portion of the day where their schedule is empty, the Royal will always go to visit their private shore by themself. A tradition they have upheld since they were young.

In public appearances, the Royal comes off as an understanding, charming, mature young adult—exactly what everyone expects from the heir. All warm smiles and dimples. But behind closed doors, the fake smiles drop and shoulders slacken. The fire in their eyes never goes out but they allow themself to be exhausted. Just once.

Their idea of relaxing is by standing in front of the waves, shoes off, and enjoying the smell of salty air and water. A servant usually has to come and fetch them, as they do not keep track of the time. And recently, they have been going more often due to undisclosed reasons... as well as sneaking off to town to do gods-know-what.

There have been rumors circulating around them, particularly involving [REDACTED]. Are they true? Are they not? You will have to wait until it is announced.

Chance encounters are life-changing. You don't think you would have ever noticed the Royal had it not been for Cordelia and K. And more importantly, you do not think you would have ever met them on the streets without your...unique circumstances. Little had you realized then the potential to gain a powerful ally, as well as a lifelong friend.

Fun Facts About the Royal:

There is so much lore I want to write down about them, but they would all be major spoilers for the game! So for now, take this condensed, somewhat short intro post for now. But expect to see some huge updates to this as further chapters are released!

Also would you call them "Lou"? Been thinking about an easier nickname besides "The Royal" and it's pretty cute! Though they are accustomed to everyone calling them by their first name

Their original design was going to be heavily inspired by Prince Eric from the Little Mermaid. However, it was changed to an appearance similar to Ariel. Maybe your headcanon is that he's Ariel's son or grandson? That's what mine is lol

Has a very refined taste for red wine. Likes it especially from their own kingdom but imported tastes are good too

Loves drawing. And because they live right by the sea they have a lot of sunset sketches and swirls of water in their notebook

Has a diary where they write down about their day; if you romance them you'll probably find long romantic tirades about you

Actually likes wearing crowns if it is light and only in the castle

Sheltered kid growing up—while their parents may have exposed them to monarchy politics early in their life they remained relatively naive and unaware of certain...things

Things that will remain unmentionable

Knows some secret passageways within the kingdom due to safety reasons, but they may show it to you if you are lucky enough!

Stuffed animals creep them out and they are all over the walls of the castle thanks to their father's love for hunting

No, not stuffed animals. Like actual taxidermy

Deathly allergic to gossipy people and mice—physically wilts at the mention of either one

Would buy you anything you want just to please you. This will especially show during the crushing stage, but it will be a habit that never dies down *if* you get married

Can resist puppy eyes with a huge question mark. But usually not because they are a major people pleaser. It comes with their job

#As the Ocean Lures #atol #atol ros #ch: the royal #the royal #3/4 #ro info #atol ro info

[inchidentally]

just curious, was that what you were referring towhen you said you made yourself sad?

yep ;__;

I'd kind of gotten suspicious when I saw Caco grabbing Lando after his fan track walks, making sure there were tons of photos of Lando with Carlos Sr and Jr after basically nothing for so long. bc Team Sainz is on PR overload (understandably) to push for that RB seat. then the box challenge they slipped in while Oscar was in the drivers panel and the absolute swamp of cameras as if Max were giving a press release and it all kind of took the shine off of it. Carlos planting the carland0 breakfast in his interview and then it turning out to be bait footage for Lando's ad for Adam's electric scooter company was just a bit too much for me lol

I'd already been losing the interest in carland0 as rpf since apart from the bromance it was mostly down to larrying degrees of slowing down footage to look suggestive and spinning "rumors" into fact and seeing brotherly affection as them being horny or romantic blah blahhh. that combined with how cynical the sudden carlando influx has been -and after I'd had anons complaining that carlando never interacted even online for so long! - I'm not interested in being in the larry equivalent ship anymore.

and every time I post the reality of how sweet it is that they call each other brothers and that Lando will still scramble after any invitation for golf with Carlos or to do the driver's parade with him (even if it was mostly Lando making the effort to seek him out over the past two years which has been hmmmm for me but ok) and like, them actually feeling so comfortable that they can do the gay jokes and laugh lol. but the desire to see them in a Harry and Louis conspiracy theory of barely suppressed romantic love is honestly the only thing ppl want to see.

and thing is that's what I love posting about most with landoscar is the reality of how Lando has no poker face and he's worn exactly how his evolution of being intrigued and then interested and then incredibly fond of Oscar right there for us to see! and Oscar is duh completely ready to change half his life for Lando's whims and Lando can be as bratty as he wants and Oscar just smiles and gets a dimple. like, they're such sweet boys figuring each other out slowly and none of that needs to be turned into anything fake to enjoy it! no women need to become beards or decoys!

sure I could whip up some theories and rumors and try to force it to be a secret forbidden relationship and pretend that girlfriends exist as open relationships to cover for the secret gay relationship etc etc etc but I literally despised 1D fandom and larry fandom w every fiber of my being so nope !!

exeunt me from carland0 fandom aslfhslajffhlaf

I still find the actual friendship sweet and I'm still writing a whole ass carlando part to my f1 royalty au! but that's just for my own enjoyment <3

#inchreplies #wank adjacent #for reference

[chamomileharry]

Vampire Louis 

🩸Bite me (5k) // by orphan_account

Louis is a vampire and Harry is a human who plays hard to get. Top!Louis ladies and gentlemen

🩸a moth to your flame *need ao3 account to read* (9k)  // by sarcasticfluentry

Harry attends a Halloween party with his vampire boyfriend Louis and gets more than he bargained for.

🩸let me outshine the moon (9k) // by sarcasticfluentry

“Fuck,” echoes Liam, shaking his head at them with a small smile on his face. “Just don’t get yourselves killed.”

“You can come too, if you want,” says Niall, standing up.

“I wouldn’t be caught dead at a vampire bar,” Liam scoffs, standing up as well. “Wait. Fuck.”

...or, boarding school students Niall and Harry chance a trip to the local vampire bar.

🩸I Wanna Thrill You Tonight (10k) // by orphan_account

"What does that have to do with my being a virgin?"

"Virgin blood is the sweetest of all."

Or the one where Louis is a vampire, and things don't go as expected.

🩸All you can eat (17k) // by harrysprostate

“You didn’t deny thinking about me while watching porn either, though.” Harry smiled and brushed his curls to the side before leaning over the desk so he was closer to Louis. “Do you stroke your big cock to those corny student teacher porn videos? Do you get mad when you watch? Because god, it’s so fucking cheesy. But you can’t help the way you start to come when the student starts moaning, ‘Ugh fuck professor fuck me.’ Because somehow it’s hot, and maybe it’s hot because you want to hear a certain student moaning professor while you fuck them over your desk. Now isn’t that right, Professor Tomlinson?”

~ or the one where human harry seduces his hot teacher professor tomlinson, who happens to be a vampire ~

🩸A Real Boy (32k) // by Centa0592

Harry is a college student who is forced to live with his dad in Portland. Louis is a vampire, who's in Portland to catch a hunter. They meet, drama ensues, they fall in love and this is their story.

Or

The not so Twilight fic where Harry falls hopelessly in love with vampire Louis Tomlinson .

🩸Legends Are Real (101k) // by LovelyBlue

Legends: A popularized myth told in modern times, usually thought untrue. Harry Styles is one of those myths. The last of his species, he survived the massacre of his race and adapted to the modern times. But ever since Harry can remember his mother would tell him stories, legends of creatures, who she called The Blue Eyes, more commonly known as the Undead or Vampires. Harry was fascinated by the creatures of the legends. However they were believed to be extinct much like Harry’s species but he never lost hope. He knew they were out there.

Vampire Harry

🩸all the quirks in the whole wide world (1k) // by freethedoncastertwo

In between grooming his bat wings and avoiding garlic shells, it’s possible that Harry has fallen totally in love with Louis. (It’s a good thing that Louis seems to like him too.)

🩸Dance along to the beat of your heart (3k) // by TheShipofHope

Since his family has been cold-bloodedly slaughtered by vampires, Louis has been hunting them, wanting to take every single one of them down. When he hears people talk about a mysterious Harry with white pale skin, he knows he has found another victim. But is Harry completely what Louis thinks he is? And doesn't it get time that Louis finally moves one, that he ends his career as a hunter?

🩸Burning in the light (your eyes) (3k) // by TheShipofHope

Louis learns how to live with Harry, learns how to love Harry. Harry has known all along how to love Louis.

*

Sequel; read the first part first please.

🩸Beauty in Bedlam (7k) // by fanshae

“You’re not a vampire,” Louis scoffs. He’s never seen anyone less vampire-like in his life. The man is wearing gold boots for christ’s sake. Sparkly gold boots.

“Louis,” Liam hisses, looking mortified.

“What?” Louis asks, affronted. “He can’t be a vampire! He’s...dimpling!” Curly-apparently-Harry the vampire wannabe is indeed dimpling and looking entirely too amused for Louis’ liking.

“Vampires aren’t allowed to have dimples?” Harry asks, bemused.

“The dimples are just the first thing on the list, mate,” Louis assures him.

Vampire Louis & Harry

🩸and i’ll find your lips in the streets lights *need ao3 account to read* (4k) // by nooelgallagher

“Do you always ramble when you talk, Curly?” he asks, leaning against the kitchen island that sort of sticks out into the entry to the flat.

“I'm Harry.”

“So you said.” Louis’ grin gets wider.

Harry blushes. Fuck, he was so much smoother as a human. And who knew vampires could still blush. He's never seen Liam blush. He's the lucky enigma it seems.

“I'm, uh. Gonna go… In my room.” Harry points vaguely in the direction of his bedroom. “Make yourself at home. There's blood in the fridge. And other snacks. And things. Help yourself. I’ll leave you to get, you know, settled.”

Louis smiles even bigger at that. “I was actually gonna go out,” he says. “It's been ages since I've gone dancing. Are you up for it, Curly?”

Or, Harry is a newbie vampire who hasn't fully gotten the hang of the whole afterlife thing, but Louis might be just what he needs.

🩸Strangers In The Night (9k) / by kingofeverything

Louis never thought he’d meet his soulmate. Harry never thought he’d meet a vampire.

🩸You’ve got me running from the daylight (15k) // by Bright_Life_Lights

If there was one thing that Louis had never, ever wanted in his whole vampire life, it was having to protect a bratty newborn from five fucking vampire clans. Too bad he got stuck with the assignment anyway.

Or the one where Harry and Louis are both vampires and acting like assholes towards each other until at some point they can't anymore.

🩸Run and I’ll Give Chase (24k) // by orphan_account

“You go out every night and maybe you’re able to drink without hurting anyone, but you’re still thirsty, aren’t you? Still have an itch you can’t scratch. A need you can’t put a name to. You desire a companion.”

“You mean a keeper?” Harry corrects with venom in his voice. “Someone to put a leash on me.”

“Wouldn’t need a leash, love.” Louis whispers sensually, and he is suddenly behind Harry, too fast for his eyes to keep track of. “You’re practically pliant just by being in my presence. Of course, if you’re into that sort of thing, I could always get you a lovely collar with a matching leash once you decide to take me up on my offer.”

Or, Harry is a fledgling vampire without a maker. Louis is graciously offering to fill that role.

🩸Once in a Lifetime (26k) // by trulymadlylarry

Louis doesn't kill innocent people. He kills the unwanted criminals, outcasts, and poor beggars who won't be missed. After more than two hundred years of vampiric life, he doesn't feel guilt or regret anymore. But then he meets his next victim: a young, green-eyed stripper named Harry.

hi, im back! as always, please read the tags and remember to leave kudos and a nice comment for the author! 

 if you have any requests, feel free to ask please! <3 

#chamomileharryficrec #bottom harry fic rec #vampires #vampire louis #larry #larry fic rec #larry stylinson #bottom harry #top louis #harryandlouis #larry fic rec list

[hlficlibrary]

HL FIC LIBRARY 📚 AUTHOR REC

AO3:  lululawrence

Tumblr: @lululawrence

STATS:

📚 Number of fics: 164

📚 Posting Since: 2014

TOP 5 FICS:

1️⃣ Drawn to You (NR, 8k)

It had started with Louis getting in trouble for coloring on himself when he hadn’t touched a felt tip pen the entire day. Through the years, the random drawings had evolved and changed. There was a period in sixth form when his soulmate must have gotten shy or something, because the drawings only happened after school hours and in places that others wouldn’t be as likely to see. The inside of his bicep, his thigh. A couple times he even had drawings appear on his ribcage. While he didn’t mind those few years, he did seem somewhat soothed when they began to appear on his left arm again. He’d missed them.

Or that completely self indulgent soulmates au that plays out in not always romantic ways.

2️⃣ I Just Wanna Give You Love (NR, 18k)

Graham Norton appeared on the screen introducing his guests and out of nowhere, everything in Louis’ world was turned upside down.

Louis gasped as he intently took in the man on the screen, smiling and waving from his seat beside Sir Ian McKellen.

“Oh my God,” Louis said before it all sank in as to what it meant. “Holy fucking shit!”

“Louis William, you watch your mouth,” Jay said. “What has got into you?”

Feeling like a madman, his palms to his cheeks, Louis couldn’t help the tears of surprise, relief, and fear as he turned to his mum. “What colour are his eyes? What do you call that colour?”

“Louis, are you telling me that the man on the screen, Harry Styles, is your soulmate?”

Or the one where the world is in black and white until you meet your soulmate, but Harry is world famous and Louis is...well...not.

3️⃣ This Ain't Just a Thing That You Give Up (M, 35k)

Harry turned to Liam to whisper something about not being in Kansas anymore but his best friend was frozen to his spot with a look of complete disbelief on his face. Harry looked to his right, the direction Liam seemed to be focused on, and saw a small group of people who had paused their discussion to look towards him in confusion.

A small group including Zayn Malik and Louis Tomlinson.

Harry is fairly sure his jaw actually dropped.

"Li, is that...?"

Liam nods his head emphatically. "I'm about 110% sure that yes. It is."

or...The one where Harry is a baker in addition to being a college student who just happens to meet the crazy famous Louis Tomlinson while on spring break. Featuring personal assistant!niall, roommate and best friend!liam, and costar/model!zayn.

4️⃣ No Chance At All (NR, 4k)

As an omega, Louis naturally had the ability to sense alphas, so it wasn’t like this was an unusual situation for him. The difference here was that this man smelled so strong and so ridiculously good. Louis had never been so attracted to someone’s scent before. Add the fact that this worker whose name tag read “Harry” looked like some kind of greek god with his long curly hair and dimples as he chatted up the older woman ordering currently, and Louis was already a goner.

Or the one where Louis just wants to drink good coffee and work on his homework in peace, but the alpha barista is charming to everyone but him, and that just pisses him off.

5️⃣ Same White Shirt (NR, 10k)

“Oh my God. What are you holding?”

Harry was startled to hear an English voice coming from behind him that he didn’t know. He’d thought he knew all the English employees around here. When he turned around there was a man with the most stunning eyes and incredible cheekbones known to man in the doorway looking with absolute distaste at the suit Harry had just been thinking of so fondly.

“It’s my suit for the show,” Harry said firmly. This guy was obviously an assistant if the badge and plate of fruit he was holding were anything to go by, but as he began walking to where the table was in the room, Harry noticed he was walking with a slight limp. Oh shit.

Or the one where Harry's on the Late Late Show for a week and several misunderstandings with a certain mouthy assistant James recently hired make things that much more interesting.

HIDDEN GEM:

💎 Caught In Your Gravity (NR, 62k)

It felt like the blood froze in Harry’s veins even as he got a bit lightheaded. He hadn’t even made it two practices, only one of which he was remotely in charge of, without giving it all away and now he and Liam were both absolutely fucked.

“Shit,” Harry breathed out. “Who all have you told? Does everyone know? I thought I covered it better than that…”

“No, no,” Louis said quickly. "They’ll figure it out soon enough, though, because they’ll get used to you changing things up, but you’re only going to trip over your so called Americanisms for so long before they realize it’s because you don’t actually know fuck all about football.”

Harry sighed. “Yeah. I figured. I just need to bullshit for long enough to allow Liam to get the situation figured out from his end.”

“Right, which brings me to my entire point. I think we can find a mutually beneficial arrangement with all of this.” Louis leaned forward. “You need to learn the ins and outs of the sport incredibly fast. I can help you with that.”

“What do you want in exchange?”

Or, an AU inspired by a 30 second trailer of Ted Lasso that doesn't actually have much in common with the show at all.

#hlcreators #hljournal #1dficvillage #hlsource #trackinghome #tracksintheam #yourlarrysource #1dsource #ficrec #lululawrence #caught in your gravity #same white shirt #no chance at all #this ain't a thing that you give up #i just wanna give you love #drawn to you

[theficpusher]

In a Little Bit of Trouble by QuickedWeen | T | 4836 Agent Louis Tomlinson is in hot water and finds help in the most unlikely of places: the sweet waitress at her local automat.

The Hardest Hue to Hold | E | 4940 "Can someone write a 1950 smut and Louis is a greaser while Harry is rich... I think you call them Socs? Please? They fuck in a car and make it super smutty and loud."

a shepherd and a sailor by goldearring | E | 12668 Liam's life has been mundane since his family fled the Blitz for a small farm, but everything changes when a foulmouthed sailor falls out of the sky.

two wheels of a different pair (but we're still rolling into something we don't know) by zouee | G | 14136 “Does it get tiring?” Louis asks, voice coming out softer than anticipated. The response doesn’t come right away. For a moment, Louis thinks Zayn might actually be asleep; pulled under quickly despite their surroundings. Then he thinks Zayn’s making a point to ignore him and he considers leaving - the rejection making his heart sting. But in the next moment Zayn remains stone-still as he replies, mouth only moving slightly. “What does?” Louis turns his head, looks at him, “Pretending you don’t care.” _ When an out of town bikie storms into a restaurant placed on the outskirts, he doesn’t expect to meet the boy with bright eyes and devilish smile. Set in the 1950’s.

Oh Lover Man, Broken Mirror, Lonely Star by sureaintmebabe | E | 14497 Louis is sitting at the corner of the bar dividing his attention between Harry and the man sitting dejectedly on a stool right in front of him. Harry isn't a novelty. Neither is the girl with him. The man at the bar, though. That's new. And Louis... Well, Louis is tired of heartache.

the dead things we carry by MediaWhore | M | 25316 September ‘49 He hasn’t seen him since that day in France, that horrible muddy day where for one terrifyingly long second, Louis really thought he was going to die. He winces with the phantom pain, the hand not holding his cane going to his stomach automatically, remembering the franticness, the tenderness, of Harry’s hands while Louis was bleeding out. This is the man who saved Louis’ life. For one second, Louis fears Harry won’t recognise him, but his eyes widen when he turns to his left and they meet Louis’. He takes a step forward, reaching for him with a shaky hand before stopping himself. “Louis,’ Harry says with a shudder and Louis doesn’t think his name has ever carried more weight. This is the only man Louis ever thought about kissing for real. “Oh,” Mrs. Padley says, clearly taken aback. “You two know each other?” There are some things people never fully come home from. Until, one day, if they’re lucky, home comes to them.

a perpetual sunrise by moonshinelouis | M | 31343 Louis Tomlinson lives the archetype of a successful man: he has a big white house, a gorgeous wife, and adorable daughters. Happiness is a superfluity, really. And his daughters' dimpled piano teacher is nothing more than a sinful distraction. 1950s AU.

The Case Of The (Definitely Not Haunted) Styles Mansion by BriaMaria | E | 40271 “So there’s a sense of humor buried beneath all that condescension, huh?” Louis said when he’d stopped laughing. “It’s not condescension, it’s intelligence. I understand you might not be able to recognize it yourself,” Marcel said, then slapped a hand over his mouth. “Oh god, I’m sorry.” Louis stepped closer, his eyes on Marcel’s face. “For being an asshat?” “For being rude,” Marcel said, from beneath his palm. Louis shifted a half-step closer until he was at the very edge of Marcel’s personal space. It felt like he was nudging at it, asking to be let in. Marcel flushed hot for no reason. “Lucky for you it takes quite a lot to actually insult me,” Louis said taking one step closer. Too close. Too close. Marcel met Louis’ eyes. Those blue eyes that reminded Marcel of poetry instead of science, lyrics instead of formulas. They were so pretty he wanted to drown in them. --- Or the Nancy Drew AU where Marcel is a man of logic, Louis is a private detective who believes in ghosts, and the Styles Mansion is definitely, absolutely, positively *not* haunted.

We're What's Right In This World by BriaMaria | E | 48809 “Why did you talk like that in Brighton? If you weren’t planning on ever telling me?” Louis asked. “Is it because you think you’re going to die?” “It’s war, Lou,” Harry said finally. The words were a knife slipped between his ribs. Everything hurt and he was bleeding. He shifted up, his palms cradling Harry’s jaw, his lips against his boy’s. Not kissing, just resting there, so Louis could feel him. “Promise you’ll come back to me.” Harry’s hands smoothed down the sides of Louis’ body. “You know I can’t do that. I’ll never lie to you.” “Promise me. We’re going to have our cottage. And our dogs. And our breakfast in the garden where nothing grows because of the wind from the sea. Promise me.” “I won’t.” Stubborn as always, his boy. “I’ll promise you, I’ll love you all my life. I’ll promise you, you’ll never leave my thoughts. I’ll promise you, you’re my forever and my always. But promising you something I can’t cheapens the things I can.” ---- Or the World War II AU where Harry goes off to fight and all Louis wants to do is be the boy who brings him home.

#1940s & 1950s #We’re What’s Right In This World #the case of the (definitely not haunted) styles mansion #briamaria #moonshinelouis #a perpetual sunrise #mediawhore #the dead things we carry #sureaintmebabe #Oh Lover Man Broken Mirror Lonely Star #zouee #two wheels of a different pair (but we’re still rolling into something we don’t know) #goldearring #a shepherd and a sailor #The Hardest Hue to Hold #quickedween #in a little bit of trouble

[somethingboutafic]

Angst

I'm Sorry, My Policeman by LilyBlue28 (NR) word count: 1,239 Louis sees My Policeman for the first time at the screening with Harry, and it hits him right in the heart.

Meet Me In The Hallway by bananaheathen (E) word count: 15,846 The sequel where we find out what happens in the New Year after Harry and Louis' one-night stand in It's Thursday.

I Can't Change (But I Wanna Be Yours) by Cy_v (NR) word count: 19,150 Or the one where Harry has anxiety and let's Zayn talk him into getting a tattoo, and that's fine except for the fact that Louis is his tattoo artist, and well...

Get Out Of My Head (and I'll get out of yours) by Imogenlee (E) word count: 29,128 The one for the Bottom Harry Fic Fest where Harry bottoming is more of a side plot, because angst got in the way--but it doesn't really matter because the fest stopped existing when I was halfthrough.

Core 'ngrato by Velvetoscar (NR) word count: 49,626 It's been over a year since Louis broke up with Harry and Harry still believes in forever. And maybe the world does, too.

Chasing Empty Spaces by Lis(domesticharry) (E) word count: 79,028 The year is 1934 and Harry Styles was to inherent the largest tobacco firm in the south. His parents have picked out the “perfect” girl for him to marry and he has the privilege of receiving the highest education possible. The problem was, Harry hadn’t realized he didn’t actually want any part of that future until he met a mechanic named, Louis Tomlinson.

One More Taste of Your Lips by CanadianLarrie, MsHydeStylinson (E) word count: 80,035 It had been eight years since the hiatus began, and Louis had spent that time writing and recording music, touring and making it safely through the pandemic. When the opportunity arose to go back on tour with One Direction, Louis knew he'd be a fool not to take it. Sure, life on the road would be different after all this time apart, but he was looking forward to experiencing that comradery again. What he hadn't realised was that living the better part of nine months in each other's pockets was bound to dredge up issues from his past. And when one of the pockets belonged to Harry, who he'd had a rather unconventional friendship with that drifted apart during their last tour, life on the road again would upend both their lives in irrevocable ways. Harry wasn’t that sixteen year old boy anymore. Nor was he the young man in his late teens who was on the cusp of conquering the entire world. But some traits seemed to remain the same; his vibrant green eyes, the dimples set deeply in his cheeks whenever he laughed earnestly, or his curls that were the same shade of cocoa that Louis remembered fondly. And yet, Louis had absolutely no idea who this man that stood a mere twenty paces away was today.

Perfect Storm by cherrystreet (E) word count: 80,230 What do you do when your best friend asks you and your (now) ex to be the best men at his destination wedding? You can either tell him the truth, tell him you’re not together anymore, and deal with the consequences, or you can pretend you’re still together and roll with it, just pray you don’t spiral. Fake it ‘til you make it. You know, for the sake of the wedding. Harry and Louis choose the latter.

Here In The Afterglow by fondleeds (NR) word count: 88,649 1970’s AU. In a tiny town in Idaho, Louis’ life is changed forever by the arrival of a curious stranger.

Mine Would Be You by crinkle-eyed-boo(KimmieRocks) (E) word count: 114,698 Louis returns to New York City five years after he left it – and the love of his life – behind. He didn't intend to see Harry again, but fate has a funny way of pulling them together, whether they like it or not. After making a begrudging truce, they both start to wonder: Would it be so bad if history repeated itself?

Fucking Animals by pointerbrother (E) word count: 116,687 Louis is the frontman of an equal rights-movement, author of a book about beta-omega marriage and the struggles of being born and boxed into a personality you don't necessarily feel you fit. The notion that an omega must want to be with an alpha or else he or she's just settling for less, is bullshit. But, fucking hell.

Never Be by cherrystreet (E) word count: 117,522 The one where Harry Styles moves to Connecticut from England for nine months as a part of a study abroad program, and he just so happens to move in with Louis Tomlinson and family.

Drops of Jupiter by Itsmotivatingcara (M) word count: 121,826 In a small, sleepy town ruled by prejudice, Louis Tomlinson runs his grandmothers shop for the occult. He finds comfort in his tarot cards, his friends, and a dog that he doesn't have room for. He thought the worst he'd have to deal with would be bigotry, until a new sheriff arrives with a headstrong little girl that's impossible not to fall in love with. But what happens when a string of break-ins leads to a brutal attack, and the towns' darling is murdered right under their Sunday hats? A murder that just so happens to bear the same modus operandi as similar homicides in neighbouring states. Has the killer been circling Virginia, or is he a local of Lavender Hills? And what will Louis do when the charming Sheriff Styles starts to suspect him of such a heinous crime?

In The Name of Being Honest by sunlouwerhabit, therogueskimo (M) word count: 123,563 After two years of living in an everlasting cycle of work, sleep, and regret, Louis finds himself wandering brand new streets perpetually haunted by the ghosts of his past. The Chicago Fic.

Golden by shaylea (E) word count: 128,077 On a rainy night in Auckland in the middle of his world tour, popstar Harry Styles loses his ability to carry on. Instead of continuing to Sydney and the rest of his tour, he seeks sanctuary with Louis Tomlinson, a man with a macadamia nut farm and a mysterious past.

For As Long As I Can Remember (It's Been December) by green_feelings (E) word count: 128,451 After recovering from a severe accident that causes Harry to lose his memory of three years, he moves to London to start his life over as a star chef. Little does he know that when he falls in love with Louis at first sight, it’s not the first time they meet.

Love Is A Rebellious Bird by 100percentsassy, gloria_andrews (E) word count: 134,891 AU in which the boys still make music. Louis is the concertmaster of the London Symphony Orchestra, Harry is the New! and Exciting! interim conductor/ex-cello prodigy who "has made Mozart cool again" according to Esquire Magazine (Louis hates him immediately, which is definitely why he internet stalked him in his dark bedroom late at night that one time), and Niall is the best. Zayn and Liam are around too. Don't hum Bolero.

Take My Breath Away by RealityBetterThanFiction (E) word count: 153,658 There is a prestigious school in the British Royal Navy classified as Premier Delta - or as it is known by its flyers, 1D. These select pilots are an elite set of Naval lieutenants who are trained in the skill of aggressive aerial combat. They are instruments of war, trained in times of peace. They are dogfighters, relentless and fearless in their mission to protect their beloved country. From their lofty vantage, they are always watching, waiting, and ready to lay it all on the line.Lt. Harry Styles, call sign Sparrow, is a prodigy when it comes to flying. The owner of an unrivaled Naval pedigree, being a pilot was always written in the stars for Harry. With his trusty RIO, Lt. Niall Horan, Harry has made an unprecedented ascension in the ranks of the Naval aerial combat elite, and has been recruited to the esteemed Premier Delta flight school, carrying on his family’s legacy. What he finds there are unexpected friendships, perilous challenges, and something beyond what he ever thought possible. Because as his father had always told him, before the great Captain Styles went tragically missing in combat, you don’t fall in love with the sky, you fall in love with what keeps you on the ground. - Top Gun AU

Given a Chance by Fabby (E) word count: 173,467 The one where Louis and Harry run into each other five years after One Direction ends and learn how to love each other again. Featuring: Reggie as the overweight labrador, Niall as Louis’ last grip on reality, and Nowheresville, North Carolina as the setting for Louis’ worst nightmare to come true.

Fading by tothemoonmydear (M) word count: 202,393 Louis knows about beauty; the combination of qualities that pleases the aesthetic senses. He creates that combination every day in the garments he designs while studying fashion at uni. The cut of the design, the color of the fabric, the intricacy of the stitching; it all comes together to create something beautiful. When the science student with the long legs and dimpled smile agrees to model for him, Louis decides he’s found beauty personified. Harry just thinks Louis needs someone to show him how beautiful he is.

One More Time Again by orphan_account (E) word count: 232,268 On the morning of his second sold-out performance at Madison Square Garden, Harry wakes up to find that he's sixteen years old, on The X Factor, and that he has a chance to make things right. A canon-compliant fix-it fic (sort of).

#larry fic rec #larry fic #larry fanfiction #angst

[thelesserneptune]

excerpt from a story i’ll never write

I was looking for something in my notes and I stumbled upon this unfinished smut so I thought I’d put it out there because why not

tags: daddy kink, feminisation, dumbification, rimming, pwp

“Good boy,” Harry tells him with a rewarding pet.

His fingers untie the knot the slightest bit, barely enough for a gap to form in the front of Louis’ robe. He has specifically requested for Louis to show him his outfit, however.

He steps away from Louis so quickly the boy follows him and almost falls right on the ground. Harry tuts but presses his hand against his lower back to right him.

“Clumsy doll, can’t even stand without his daddy.” He is a little condescending, just enough for Louis to let out a whine that goes straight to Harry’s dick.

He takes a breath to centre himself and not go too far, too fast. That goes to shit when Louis slips the robe off, revealing his skimpy outfit that looks just that much worse from up close.

The skirt is so short it shows where his bum spills onto his hairless thighs, so revealing it might not even be there. His shirt is sheer and Harry wonders if he will ever love the dimples in Louis’ back any less but can’t focus on that too long, not when Louis sends him a look from over his shoulder, half-lidded eyes with lashes clearly coated in mascara.

Harry really, really want to make it run down his rosy cheeks.

“So pretty,” he tells him, earnest and entirely genuine.

Louis’ knees turn inward and it’s so hard not to just push him to the bed and ruin him. It’s been too long since they last did a scene, too long since they last did anything really, and that time is really showing its full effect on Harry’s psyche.

Harry is salivating by the time he realises that nothing is stopping him from doing to Louis all that he wants to and more.

“Get on the bed. All fours.”

Louis scrambles to obey him, clumsy as he climbs atop the bed and drops to his forearm. The quick movements lift his skirt that ends up pooling right at the curve of his ass, revealing his completely bare cheeks. Through repeated exposure, Harry has learnt to resist a lot of things about his boy; but his bum isn’t one of them and he isn’t sure it ever will be.

He’s already in a daze by the time he climbs behind him, spreads his cheeks and spits on his rim. Louis gasps but pushes towards Harry, inviting and submissive. As a reward, he licks the spit dribbling down his balls, all the way up to his rim. There, he lets the full extent of his hunger come out.

It’s messy as he switches between broad licks to make Louis wet all over and pointed jabs inside his hole to stretch him out and make him cry. Louis squirms but can’t escape, not when Harry grips him so tightly his nails sink into his hips. He feasts upon the moans as much as he does upon Louis’ musky taste, eating him out like never before.

He lifts his head up to stare at Louis’ shiny, pink hole, enticing him when Harry slides his hands down to spread his cheeks indecently. Unable to help himself he immediately replaces his mouth with his fingers, using his thumbs to prod and open Louis’ hole even more. He is rarely allowed to just play with Louis that way, stare at him unabashedly and the way his body always tries to pull him in. Louis claims it is embarrassing and Harry is a creep, but the way he sinks further into the mattress and his legs wobble as Harry blows air on his entrance to see it flutter makes the truth abundantly clear.

“So pretty,” he murmurs and gives one last lick to Louis, “so slutty,” he says louder before biting his left cheek.

#pretty sure this is part of a bigger work where harry wrecks gamer louis but im not completely sure #yes im that bitch that starts writing the sequel when shes only 60% through the original work what about it #fun times though props to last summer me even though this is clearly one of my poorest works #blouisparadise #drabbles

[allfordimples]

If the world was ending Chapter 1 - how it begins

The balloons were high, touching the ceiling lights and projecting colourful shadows across the room.

A drink in his hand, Louis was sitting on the sofa nearest the door. The air inside was stuffy, wet with the sweat of the bodies dancing to the sound of the loudest music anyone has ever heard. Every time the door opened, he could feel a draft of fresh air against his cheek, sending away the ever growing anxiety.

Louis didn't particulary enjoy crowds, never did. But it was Emile's birthday and someone would die if he didn't attend ; himself or Emile, he didn't know. Truthfully, Louis hadn't seen Emile in quite some time, and none of the faces around the room looked familiar. The birthday boy had said "hello", and chatted for a bit, but the music was so loud, it was impossible to follow a simple "how are you doing ?" conversation.

He wanted to leave as soon as he finished his drink. He really wanted to. But as he was giving his empty glass back at the bar, a tall guy bumped into him. Louis turned around, ready to face a drunken party idiot, "excuse me."

"I'm really sorry. I tripped. Did I hurt you?"

The man was tall, way taller than him, with broad shoulders. His skin was light, even in the dark, and with the darkest green eyes. Louis had a feeling the green would look a lot different in the day time.

The man was still looking at him, expecting an answer, but his tongue was dry and no words were coming out.

"I'm Harry," the man added.

"L-Louis. I'm Louis. Hi. Hello."

"Hello," smiled Harry. And what a beautiful smile, dimpled and all. Louis would probably never leave now. Where could he possibly go when the most perfect man was standing right in front of him, looking at him, saying words. Saying words. Harry was saying something and he couldn't hear anything.

Harry must have seen the confused look on his face because he soon waved toward the door. Louis looked at the door and then back at him.

Harry smiled and grabbed his hand, taking him to the exit.

What was happening ?

The cold air hit him like a brick. His coat was still on the sofa. He hoped no one would be sick on it.

Harry was looking at him, piercing eyes staring straight into his soul.

"So..."

Louis was blushing like a schoolgirl. What an idiot. "So, yes, hi. I'm Louis." An idiot.

Harry laughed "Yeah, I know. You looked like you could use a break."

"Sorry." Louis was scraching his neck out of nerves. Harry seemed to notice and he smiled.

"How do you know Emile ?"

"We were in school together, when we were kids. And you ?"

"We work at the same law firm," he answered with a proud smile. "Can I offer you anything to drink?"

"Why not?" He smiled.

--

"I cannot believe you've never had a one night stand. You." Louis was drunk. He hadn't been this drunk since college and frat parties. He could feel his entire body burning but it might have just been Harry.

He soon realised that Harry was a rather touchy kind of person, putting his hand on his arm, on his leg. And standing so close he could smell him.

"Why are you so surprised ?" Harry huffed indignantly.

"A handsome guy like you must have dozens of people swooning over him at all times. All. The. time."

Harry's lips made the tiniest round o and he whispered "You think I'm handsome"

"Of fucking course. Have you seen yourself ? " Added Louis, not daring to look him in the eye.

"Would you be my first then?"

What. Surely he didn't mean ... "Your first what ?"

"My first one night stand." Answered Harry, suddenly very serious.

Louis cackled, nearly falling of his stool. "I must be so drunk. I'm definitely hallucinating. You can't be real, Harry."

Harry stepped closer, his breath hitting his forehead. "Oh, I'm real alright."

Louis suddenly felt extremely sober.

Harry kept a straight face, slowly leaning in before snorting and stepping back.

The ballons were low, flooting just above the wooden floor. Harry kicked one and laughed. Louis grabbed his hand and pulled him against his chest.

"Can I take you home ?" Louis whispered, licking his earlobe as he got closer still.

"Yes, please."

#chapter 1 #creative writing #writing #story #fanfiction #larry #larry stylinson #harry styles #louis tomlinson #sweet #angst #ao3 author

[allmylouv]

louis tomlinson’s hidden dimples

#husbands have matching opposite dimples #since louis has a right dimple #and harry has a left dimple #dimples! #* #1k

[dropsofletters]

runaway silhouette [jjh]

—summary: no one asks about that polaroid picture of a woman yoonoh keeps in the depths of his wallet.

lace, measurements, models—jung yoonoh has worked for the world of fashion for a little too long, but he’s as unknown as the person next door. with his inspiration dying down and his designs getting cheaper by the day, yoonoh has changed his ways. no longer is he the best lingerie designer in ‘silhouette’, the company he works for, neither is he the playboy he used to be and the dulcet-mouthed man that got his way through success.

bad luck has settled in his life, much like it has done on hers. the manager of a hotel that slipped his fingertips when one night she denied him all—the world, her hold, her smile, and just left him with a picture on his wallet.

only when he has to prepare one of the biggest fashion showcases of his life does he meet her again, and he realizes things could never be easy between them.

why is he, a man of fashion, infatuated with such a lovesick, monotone, blazer-sporting hotel manager? no one will ever know.

a runaway has captured him, and he’s not sure how to get his heart back.

maybe, he should start by forgetting that night.

—title: runaway silhouette  —pairing: jung yoonoh x reader  —genre: lingerie designer!au ; hotel manager!au ; strangers to lovers to enemies!au ; slowburn!au ; slice of life!au  —type: fluff ; angst ; humor ; drama ; suggestive —word count: 19,326 (i said slowburn and i meant it) —warnings: mentions of sex (the act is never on paper or narrative)

Jung Yoonoh is dressed to succeed.

With folded white sleeves and a black vest that becomes a second skin, he merges into the office like it belongs to him. It might, at some point in time; an associate after a few years and then, onto another business that was his own—vision, designs, everything. That’s the plan. His suitcase hangs, paces back and forth in the hook of his fist while all eyes cast on him while walking through the cubicles.

Today, Yoonoh is becoming the one in charge.

Silhouette is the lingerie line everyone wants to have cladding their skin. Expensive, intricate and elegant. It’s one of those things people put on when they need to feel their best while also being comfortable. Garments that enamor the buyer and the people who see them. His home for the past two years, Yoonoh has broken his ass to get to the manager position in the design department.

When settling his suitcase on his cubicle, he shares a smile with his neighbor. Johnny, part of the social media team, with his long-curled hair framing his rounded face. Fixing the collar of his shirt, Johnny interrupts him to say.

“Big day today, aye?”

Redemption, he likes to call this day. The payment for the parties he didn’t go to and the obnoxious nagging he stood from his boss, Mrs. Kang. This tall woman with atrocious so-last-season fluffed out coats in bright pink who screams at the mere sight of beige underwear. As she says, it’s tacky and simple, the kind of clothing you’d want to wear when un-turning someone on.

Yoonoh can’t wait until he can make decisions, organize collections, make bigger and better options for Silhouette to expand.

“You see, John, once I become your boss…I’m making you the leader of the PR and Social Media Team.” This place is a nest of snakes. One bite on his first day and he already became smarter. “Can’t be trusting anyone else with these babies.” With that, he opens his suitcase, sketchbook pressed to his chest just as Johnny claps his hands.

“Better position means better salary.” Johnny conquers, as casual as ever in his baby blue sweater

There are a few rules to Silhouette. To any workplace, really, and Yoonoh thinks about this just as he swings his long legs with Johnny following after him like a dog and his tail.

He had written them down in a portion of his brain that keeps his coffee order and his mom’s birthday. He’ll never forget them.

1)     Never trust nobody—never say where you come from in business, where you’re headed, what your dreams and aspirations are. Copycats exist everywhere, and they’ll do anything to follow your track if you’re doing good.

2)    Say goodbye to friendships but hello to hypocrisy. A smile is needed, but is it real? Not at all.

3)    Differentiate your works from others. Being special is the only way you’ll stand out.

One push of the door spreads a smile on his face, brown hair pushed back to showcase his plush, rosy lips and his gleaming eyes. What’s rule number four, you may ask?

Don’t let them see how tired you are.

Mrs. Kang sits at the very end of the meeting table. Always early, never late. Her face is dense with makeup, each wrinkle becoming more apparent as she applies a third layer of bright pink lipstick. Yoonoh knows Mrs. Kang has been the biggest dictator of all—giving him more work hours, destroying the designs she didn’t like from him, and making him get jittery fingers from how much he had to sew and unsew with the sewing machine to show her what his mind had captured. Now that she had found a way younger boyfriend that is eager to give a trip to the entirety of Asia, he’s over the moon.

Because that means old and grumpy Mrs. Kang will be gone for a while, and whoever becomes manager will be, then, the one in charge.

“Mrs. Kang!” Yoonoh greets in a tone that is much too faux, his dimple becoming apparent by the second. The woman looks up and away from her compact, stopping the conversation he is having with his biggest rival in the office. Not worth even thinking about. “Classic always goes best. You look beautiful today.”

She can barely even move her features in a smile. That’s how obstinate this woman is, but one of her wrinkly hands comes up to hold Yoonoh’s bicep when he leans down to press two kisses on each of her cheeks. The old European greeting. “I know, Yoonoh.” She adds, extending her hand towards him. “May you show me your designs? I got here earlier than expected and I have something to do right now so—”

That makes Yoonoh’s smile falter the slightest, just as he opens his sketchbook and splays it in front of Mrs. Kang. “Well, Mrs. Kang, if you let me have a few of your minutes, I prepared a PowerPoint presentation and a video for the collection I have in mind as my desire to become head of the designing team—”

“Silence, Yoonoh.” Mrs. Kang interrupts, going through his lingerie designs for both men and women. It’s not the kind of job people think about when designing, but there is something about seduction and comfort that just works well for him. “I’m in the midst of planning my engagement and I don’t have the time for whatever extra thing you have in mind.”

The room is silent, but if features could talk, the woman seated next to Mrs. Kang would have burst out in laughter. Siyeon is a 4’11 piece of shit that dared steal one of his designs when in his beginnings in Silhouette.  A fuchsia baby-doll that turned viral in the blink of an eye once it appeared in runways. Comfortable, sexy, with the right number of straps and the comfort of wearing it at any occasion, companion or not.

Yoonoh had left his sketch at his desk, only to find it gone the next morning. Mrs. Kang was over the moon, both from the money she got and about the audacity of the design. Siyeon had turned it in as hers.

No wonder her husband doesn’t stand her. She’s the devil reincarnate, and slips in Johnny’s DM’s every once in a while.

Yoonoh can’t say he doesn’t have some screenshots saved on his phone just in case he needs to blackmail her. This is the kind of man he has become.

“Done before.” Mrs. Kang flips onto another one of his designs. “Done before.” And then, she continues with the rest. “Vulgar. Boring. Ugly. Done before. Jesus, Yoonoh, did you even try to do anything?”

Yoonoh is used to praise. He has got it from women, throughout his time in college and even at his previous jobs. As an intern, he was refreshing and a nice sight in the designer area. Now, he is the floor Mrs. Kang steps on with her Louis Vuitton’s.

“I—” The meeting room is silent, everyone in the designer team trying to peek at his sketches. A short laugh leaves his lips, though awkward in tone. “We’ll compete against brands like Savage with designs like this. They’re brave and fitted and—”

“Boring.” Mrs. Kang completes, and Siyeon actually laughs at that moment, playing with one of her curled bright red strands of hair. “Yoonoh, I’m being serious. If the women you’re sleeping with are wearing lingerie like this…I’m worried about your sexual health.”

More laughter, and his jaw finally tightens. He tries to tell himself to smile, but he doesn’t, instead, snatching the sketchbook from her.

Mrs. Kang notices this, pushing her reading glasses down her nose before sighing. “Yoonoh, you need to learn how to take constructive criticism. You’re not perfect and I’m here to make you grow.” Says the woman that steps on him each time she can. At this point, he’s practically plastered on the floor. “I’m sure you’ll get to divert these boring ideas into something creative once Siyeon becomes the head of the department. You two have been so close since the beginning and I am sure she will work magic on you.”

“No.” Yoonoh shakes his head just as he plasters a faux smile on his features. “Ah, I—Well, I won’t—”

Siyeon stands up from her seat, fixing the sleeves of her white dress before clearing her throat. “I’m glad of getting the position and being the one, remotely, in charge of Silhouette as Mrs. Kang goes find true love.” This is not happening. Yoonoh rubs at his eyes in case he is dreaming. He has been preparing for this presentation for five months— “All I have to say is…I wouldn’t have been able to do this without the support of everyone here. My team. My heart. I have grown to have a family with you, not because we’re perfect, but because we’re together and…of course, it’s nice to continue down this path.” She hums. “A woman in charge and then, another woman. Isn’t that the whole point of Silhouette?”

His tongue scalds his palette when he takes a seat next to Mrs. Kang, closing his sketchbook with a harsh slap of his hand. Siyeon’s eyes connect to his own, fluttering her dense mascara-coated lashes before sighing.

“I had the pleasure of seeing Yoonoh in his first few days here and he has lost that spark, but I’m sure we’ll find it again.” Oh, everyone gets roses but he gets a few, too. For his social funeral, that is. He really wants to get out of there as soon as possible. “I’m thankful.”

There go the tears, and Siyeon covering her face with her hand, a smile hidden behind the action.

…Has he ever said he hates working in Silhouette?

“You’re going to make me cry, too.” One of the members of the manufacturing team says in between big sobs and Yoonoh can’t help but roll his eyes.

Fuck this place.

After an elongated meeting with tearful hugs and looks thrown his way, Yoonoh is ready to find somewhere else to work in. Keep to himself until he dares get his curriculum somewhere else and stab this company straight in the back. Not because he didn’t get the job…but…

Let’s be honest, it’s because he didn’t get the job and he lost it to Siyeon.

Johnny slips around a few hours later with some cheeseburgers in a plastic bag, dense in cheese and stinking the two conjoined cubicles before he says:

“She’s the devil.”

“An exorcism wouldn’t be enough for her.” Yoonoh replies, tongue itching to say something when he unleashes the cheeseburgers from their confines. He’s only five minutes away from lunchtime, after all. “I can’t believe they gave it to her. Her designs are…I don’t know, like lace over lace. That’s not elegant, that’s not what Silhouette stands for—”

“Here’s the thing,” Johnny says, smacking his lips as he speaks with a mouthful of burger in his mouth. “You never had a chance.”

A pang rests in the pit of his heart when he scoffs. “Yes, I did.”

“No, you don’t.” His friend replies. “Everyone in this office hates you but me. I believe it is a Freudian theory. The Jung Yoonoh Effect.” Voiced out like a movie trailer, Johnny extends one of his hands in the air.

“Sorry for not caring about anything but business. Everyone here are suck-asses and crybabies. Why should I care?”

“Because people feel disconnected to you. They don’t to Siyeon.” Johnny conquers. “The Jung Yoonoh Effect is simple.”

“Stop it. You don’t even know who Freud is.”

“That one psychologist that compared everything to sex. That’s who he is. Hence, why you’re there.”

Yoonoh quirks an eyebrow, playing with a slice of meat that had gotten out of his burger. “What are you even talking about?”

“Interns always thirst over you. At least, five out of every nine people in this office has had a wet dream about you, liked enough of your Instagram pics to look like a freak, or would have your dick in a second if the second step of your effect wouldn’t come around.”

“…I’m not that bad of a guy.”

“But you’re bland. Work. Work. Work.” Johnny moves his hand as if it’s talking. Now he’s playing marionettes. Great. “We’re selling lingerie, and you are always about competition and work. We need you to be passionate.”

“Passionately suck up to people?” Yoonoh shakes his head, huffing in the process. “No thanks, man. I’m not going to lower myself to Siyeon’s standards. Not sure I want to get pink eye from kissing so much ass.”

“Been there, done that.” Johnny sighs, a smile displayed on his features. “I’m just saying, bro. Maybe, change the game—”

Something Yoonoh is…stubborn. He’d die with that title, and it is only enhanced when he feels a long nail tapping on his shoulder, making him turn around. He expects to see one of those interns that try to stumble out words when asking him for his e-mail to send him the summaries or designs they have worked on, but this time around, he is met with Siyeon’s face.

“No eating until lunchtime.” She tuts, shaking her finger in the air.

This means war.

Yoonoh points at the clock on his wrist, showing it to her. Rolex, maybe, he’s spoiling himself with the benefit of showing her he has also earned some money, designs mediocre or not. “It’s already my lunchtime.”

“Not to me.” Siyeon answers, straightening her back. “Maybe, you’d like to listen to me before I kick you out of the team, don’t you, Yoonoh?”

With that, he pushes the burger onto his desk, covering it just as Siyeon smiles.

“Good boy.” She coos, laughing when she turns around and returns to giving a run-around the office.

“That’s it.” Yoonoh whispers, running his hands through his hair, not caring if he messes it up in the process. “I’m designing the best fucking collection one could ever find and showing everyone in this goddamned office that I have talent.”

“Ooh, and where do you think you’ll get inspiration from?” Johnny tries to gossip, and Siyeon’s soft touch for him is shown when she doesn’t even spare him a glance as he munches on his burger.

“I think I have someone in mind.”

###

She’d color-code her life if she could. Hence, it’s still a mess, and while she is as organized as she could be, her mind is still trying to process how to keep the hotel she works in safe and sound and quiet.

One would think that being the manager of a hotel would be easy. A three-star-hotel, no celebrities, no paparazzi’s, definitely not enough rich people who care about their environment. As long as she made it homely, clean, and nice to stay in, it wouldn’t be much of an issue.

The problem is…everything is a mess.

For one, her boss, Sachiko, has not appeared in the last two days into the hotel. None of her well-prepared summaries, in Times New Roman twelve, with enough punctuation to make it look like a contract, have been read. The maids keep talking amongst themselves, gossiping instead of cleaning. They got a bad review on their restaurant because the head of the cooking team had decided to shout to one of the clients about how ‘they didn’t have an ounce of taste’ because they disliked the taste of his Ratatouille and oh, how to forget? The fact that her duties as a manager transcend to something else.

She rushes through the kitchen, heat and smoke accompanied by the sizzling of veggies and meat. She doesn’t care that there are flames around her, or that she bumps into one of the cooks in the process.

Sachiko has a mini version of herself, gift of a getaway with her ex-husband to try to make her marriage work. Then, came the five-year-old that had slipped her hold as she was attending one of the residents in their hotel at the entrance, granting them information about the type of rooms they offered. Erika, in all her round-faced glory with grabby hands and too much energy, had slipped from her line of sight and her hold.

She has roamed the entire hotel and she can’t find her.

Oh, then, she should change her statement that she hasn’t seen Sachiko in two days. She has. Sachiko’s heels have clicked against the tiles of this hotel. Only to leave Erika with her, spitting out excuses about having to get on another meeting for the expansion of the hotel, before she’s off the hook of being a full-time mother.

She doesn’t even get more payment for this.

“Have you seen Erika?!” She asks out loud, voice strained from so much shouting, only to watch the head chef speak, his moustache moving with each word he says.

“Oh, little Erika?” Well, seems like he has a soft spot for someone. His eyes glimmer, just as he wraps his hand around his mouth, as if to utter a secret. “She’s in one of the tables. She asked for two milkshakes already. Oreo milkshakes. She’s starting to jitter.”

“Mr. Oh!” She whines, throwing her head back with a groan before splaying her hands on her hips. Navy blue uniform as a simple suit giving her the most boring yet comforting outfit she could come up with. “I am the one that has to get her to sleep, and if she has sugar before bed, she won’t even close an eye—”

Mr. Oh shrugs. “What am I supposed to say? She’s my boss’ daughter.”

“I am your boss as well.”

“You’re getting me fired?”

She can’t even answer to him, hearing the Baby Shark song spoken at the top of someone’s little lungs. Her feet are rushing out of the kitchen by the time she notices it, blazer opening up when she gets to the table Erika is in. Red walls and marble tables don’t scare her, playing with the straw of her drink and grabbing someone’s phone to listen to that fucking song again.

“Erika…” She tuts, voice stern, hands spread out on her knees. This cardio routine has been enough to make her burn all she has eaten this month. The little girl’s short hair caresses her cheeks when she turns towards her, a mischievous smile on her face.

“Yes?”

“Let’s go to your room and wait for mommy to get here.”

“Nope.”

“Yes, Erika. I am not playing.” Her voice levels itself, only to have Erika staring back at her. Big brown eyes blinking, playing with the edge of her pretty pink dress before sighing.

“But you won’t let me…let me watch my shows.” She takes in a breath, shuddering it out as a pout splays on her lips. “Y—You…mommy said you’d be with me, but you aren’t with me at all—”

Tears wield her eyes and she has to rush to cage her in her hold, hoisting her up before a big wail left her lips and she lost her job. “I’m sorry, Erika. I’ve been so busy, I hadn’t realized.” She mumbles out, pressing her cheek to the top of her head before sighing. “Do you want to give a walk around the hotel and go back to your room to watch as many shows as you want?”

She has to play good cards here. She’s not raising this child, after all, so if the long hours of TV-watching make her turn out bad when she’s a teen…that’s not her business.

Erika nods continuously, engulfing her arms around her shoulders. “Yes! Yes! Yes!”

At least, she has found Erika before Sachiko arrives the next morning, but her body practically glues itself to the floor in tiredness by the time she slips out of the restaurant.

The best part of being a manager is when she gets back home.

###

“So, you’re saying you practically lost your job?”

Yoonoh’s life revolves one thing. Those four walls of his cubicles, the connections he has gotten from his workplace and his elongated list of explanations that always go unheard. In any other occasion, he would have been delighted of being given the benefit of lying. Casual relationships are more of his thing and explaining his every insecurity, recollection of time or worry isn’t part of the plan. Carnalities? Sure thing.

A hook-up turned friend with benefits pushing him by the chest and practically gasping when he sighs? He didn’t think it’d end this way.

“Mia,” His voice rasps out, leaning back on his calves while hovering over her. Her bed is as pristine as always, the rosy satin sheets from last week turned into beige, deep fibers that do sound too elegant for them to do whatever they are thinking of in the bed. “I didn’t lose my job, I just didn’t become the head of my department, okay?”

He’s trying to spell it out, but the model is just as confused. Mia had modelled for Silhouette a bunch of times in the last two years, and that’s how he met her. Fitting one of his designs to her will had led him to be asked out on a date and then, the contract came about. Just sex, nothing more.

Mia scrambles away from underneath him, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand as if repulsed. As if she had kissed an ogre itself. “Yoonoh, you’re practically jobless—!”

“I am not.” He sighs out, trying his hardest to concentrate on anything around the room. The tall ceilings, the conversation at hand, anything but the obvious problem in his boxers right now. “I swear, I will just be working for Siyeon but it’s for a period of time. I’m sure I’ll get her position soon enough.”

“Oh my God,” Mia pushes her long brown hair away from her shoulders, widening those innocent eyes of hers, sharp cheekbones lifting in distaste—not even a smile of comprehension. “I can’t believe I almost slept with a good for nothing. You told me you’d get that job and now you didn’t?”

“A good for nothing?” Yoonoh stands up from that bed, hands on his hips when Mia nods, once and then twice.

“Your dick is good, but not that good.”

Is this the day Yoonoh’s ego gets bruised to shattered little pieces that poke at his feet like glass? Perhaps.

Is this the day Yoonoh lets that pang of pain in his chest become visible? Not at all.

“Were you just with me because I was probably going to be a manager?”

“Silhouette is—listen, they are established, but it’s not what I had in mind.” Mia puts on her robe, covering her Goddess-crafted body before picking up a glass of the wine they had been sharing. “If you became manager, I’d have more connections with other teams. I would probably be in better runways and—”

“I’m not your manager or your little linking buddy, Mia.” Yoonoh complains, chest flushed when he seethes, pushing the strands of his dark hair away from his face. “We’re just having fun. I wasn’t going to bring you as my plus one when we had already established—”

“I don’t know if you notice,” She starts, licking her lips in elegance. “But you’re…you’re going to end up alone, Yoonoh. All you do is work, you’re always tense and silent and…a little bit boring, if I’m being honest. I am definitely the closest thing you’ll ever have to a relationship.”

Oh, no. That’s the thing he hates the most. How the world has been divided in romanticists and hard-workers. You’re one of the other, can’t ever be both, and sometimes, he feeds into that stereotype. He knows he doesn’t have time to fully sit down and talk to someone about his interests, let his heart be wandered about like a museum, but somehow…hearing anyone tell him that he’s tense, silent, boring…doesn’t sit well with him.

He shrugs, eager to poke just like done to him. “Good thing I never wanted a relationship with you to start with.”

Mia gasps at that, plush lips parted before she’s opening the window of her one-floor home. Elegant, but still not the grandest thing out there. “Oh, is that so?”

“You happen to be presumptuous, superficial and now, a complete opportunist—” He says, walking behind her until she turns around, her robe falling off one shoulder when she points at the window, crisp air whisking the tension around.

“Then, leave.”

“Okay.” He’s about to turn around and grab his clothing, when he feels her tugging at his taut forearm.

“Not through the door. You don’t get the benefit to do that.” Once again, Mia is pointing at the window and that catches a chuckle out of Yoonoh, that rises and rises in tone.

“I won’t get out through there.”

“I didn’t ask you. I told you to.” With that, she’s pushing at his chest, trying to get him out as he scrambles to get a hold of her.

“Mia! Are you fucking insane?!”

“Tired of your bullshit, Yoonoh. That’s it.”

Mia is, perhaps, not stronger than him, but for someone who walks on runways…she’s mad strong. Maybe, it’s the necessity to get him out of her home or the flying atrocity of her train of thought that has him stumbling backwards in one of those moments. In just his boxers, the prickling of the grass and the flowers in Mia’s garden caress and poke at his skin, tickling in enormous amounts just as he falls into the most embarrassing position he has been in.

The moonlight seeps over his skin, a groan ripping from the depths of his soul at the ache on his back when he hears the window closing, not without a few words from Mia: “And don’t you dare call me again, asshole.” And maybe, he would have laughed at the stupidity of the statement, because throwing someone out of a window is definitely not a reason to call someone back, but now, he’s much too surprised and in pain.

### 

She wishes she was back to being a kid.

It’s a thought she has when the days are tough and uncertainty fills her, like a vase that is neither half full or half empty, but just stuck. In this town, with a job that she had wished for years ago, that takes away every ounce of will and thrive that she ever had. Days are tiring, nights even more so, and sometimes, she wishes the lake would stop being so calm. For it to be some movement, some waves, some dance of life that tells her: ‘this is something new and I give it to you because you deserve it’.

Instead, she’s walking alongside Erika, whose little feet in her elegant tiny boots are kicking a rock on the sidewalk. They had decided to walk for another block near the hotel, houses scattered in their glow in this enchanting night. It’s a moment of quiet, and she relishes on it, sending a look to the rock and to the little girl, just in case she’s not warm enough or she’s tired.

Oh, how she wishes she was tired.

Erika calls out her name, soft and through a pout, in a way that makes her sound like her age. Very much little a baby. “…Why do…why do girls your age never like boys?”

“What do you mean?” She questions, a smile on her face when sparing Erika a glance. A shrug is given. “I think boys are cool. Not all boys, but some are.”

“Mom doesn’t like my dad, and he’s a boy.” That must be the way she explains her parents’ divorce, but how she’s involved in that? She has no idea. “You…you don’t have a boy. I never hear you talk about boys.”

You see, she hasn’t dated in a while. A while as in…years. Comes to be, building trust into someone after having another person shatter it for you is not only difficult, but somehow near impossible. A plane ticket had said farewell to her in-person relationship and she had embarked in this immense long-distance relationship with too many tears and too much longing. He was distant after a while, and she blamed it on time differences…

Time differences that were proven to be someone else when she called him to tell him she had saved money for seven months just to visit him, only to hear him with another woman.

Another woman who claimed to be his girlfriend of four years.

Not one. Not two. Not three. Not even three and a half. Four.

“I don’t know.” She starts, trying to find the best way to say this. “We don’t always need a boy, Erika. Us girls, we don’t. The only people we need are our family, our friends and ourselves. Princesses can still be pretty and have a lot of people looking up to them without a prince.”

“Like Moana?”

“And Merida.” She completes, a smile on her face when she tugs the little girl up to scoop her in her hold. “Your mom has a hotel and she takes care of it very well without a boy. That doesn’t mean your daddy is not important, but they are happy even when he doesn’t have a girl and she doesn’t have a boy.”

“Then,” Erika plays with the collar of her white button-down. “We all have to be in pairs?” She stops.

“You mean couples?” Erika nods. “Oh no, honey, not all of us have to be in pairs or be part of a couple.” She chuckles at Erika’s innocence. She must be a bit insufferable, but still a kid. With the nightly air blowing at her face, she sighs. “We can all be with anybody, depending on who we like, girls…boys…your mom has told you that, right?”

Humming, Erika opens her mouth to speak up. “Yep.”

“Good girl.” She coos, smiling in the process. “Do you know what decision means?”

“Yes.” Erika conquers. “Carrots or potatoes, like that.”

“Exactly. What you choose is your decision.” She’s trying to make this easy for her. “Your mom doesn’t have to love a man, because that is her decision. As long as she loves herself and you, she’s already complete.”

“And you?” Erika questions.

She hadn’t thought about it in years. It didn’t feel right to be next to someone else, and she doesn’t know if that falls on her a little bit. Loneliness is inherent, this wandering thought that comes to her when she stops and wonders if there is someone out there. Not to complete her, because she’s already full by being on her own, but to support her.

“I am complete, too.” The answer is simple, tucking a strand of Erika’s hair behind her curved little ear. “So are you.”

“I am complete!”

“Yes, you are.”

Something interrupts them just as they pass by a cream-colored house. A groan comes from the flowers planted in the front-yard, and that has her stopping. Flowers don’t talk, obviously, but if someone is hurt—a dog or a human, she has to check.

More groaning and then, she sees a peak of milky skin under the moonlight, paired with tousled black hair. A man is standing in between the bushes, with his lower half thankfully covered by the plants, a short small nose, decently sized lips and a face that speaks anything but a good time.

And he’s half-naked. Only in boxers.

Her hand comes upwards to cover Erika’s eyes just as a loud gasp leaves her lips and she screeches: “Pervert!”

“No, no, no!” The man in question shushes her, lowering his body until even his taut chest and abdomen are covered. His eyes widen comically, and she has to shut her mouth to hear him speak. “I’m not a pervert, I promise! I know this looks wrong but—”

“You’re hiding in the bushes without clothes on, sir. This is definitely something illegal—”

“I was with a woman,” He sends a look towards Erika, levelling his words just because a kid is there, trying to snatch her hand away, but its grip is tight like iron. “And she threw me out because we had a break-up. Kind of. Not serious enough to call it a break up but…my clothes are inside and she won’t let me in. I’ve tried for such a long time. I was hiding until someone passed by but…no one did.”

Still far away from him, she quirks an eyebrow. This relatively, conventionally handsome man had been kicked out by a woman…almost ass-naked?

Talk about an attitude.

“Well, I’ll call someone over to help you out—” She’s about to move again, not completely trusting the man in the bushes when he calls her over with a hiss from his lips. A mix of ‘psst!’ and ‘hey!’ that obnoxiously makes her stop to turn around, still covering Erika’s eyes. “What?”

His eyes glisten when he says: “Help me.” He must be some kind of boss. The stranger says these two words like she has to do it, and she would have turned around again had it not been for those plush lips saying: “Please.”

“What do you want?” She questions, only to have him smiling.

Oh, there is a dimple there. A very profound and albeit, a bit attractive, dimple.

“Clothes.” The stranger adds. “Can you buy me some clothes? I promise I’ll pay you. I just need to get out of here. I think a cockroach bit me in the ass.”

“Language.” She spits out, just as Erika tries to wiggle away from her hold and repeats:

“Ass!”

“Erika!”

“Sorry.” He says again, bringing his hands together in a plea before sighing out: “I need them right now.”

She fixes Erika’s hold around her body, before rolling her eyes hard enough so she cans see the back of her head. “Fine. I’ll find you some clothes.”

###

Erika won’t take care of the family business. She’ll be a stylist, for sure. 

The only thing opened at this hour of the night that doesn’t cost her a big portion of her salary is the thrift store and after endlessly explaining the situation to a very eager Erika, she is watching the little girl moving around the store as if she owns it, grabbing clothes here and there in a hassle.

“Erika, be careful. We can only pick three pieces of clothing!” Not that the teenager by the counter cares, popping his bubblegum in between his thin lips, looking down at his phone and tapping on it with a speed that a piano player would envy.

“We have to make him look cute.” Erika tries to say in her most professional voice, and she has to sigh. She will definitely not become a mother anytime soon.

“Yes, but we also have to make it cheap. I don’t have much money in this suit.”

“Yes, yes.” Somehow, she feels like Erika is not listening, pulling at a t-shirt on a table nearby, only to unfold it and give it to her. Her body is so small that she couldn’t see the imprint on the front. As her babysitter of the night, she expands it over her chest, only to watch something within Erika lighting up. “I like it!”

“Good,” She checks the price after muffling a laugh at the words written at the front. “It’s cheap. We can get it.”

Small steps patter against the tiles of the grand store before she’s tugging at the leg of a pair of pants she found on a rack, too tall for her to grab.

“This, this, this, I want this!”

Those ones are a little bit pricier, but when she gets them out of the rack, a smile finally spreads through her features. She has to get it. “You have a gut for styling, little one.”

Erika straightens her back in pride, fisting her small hands before nodding. “Thank you. Want me to buy one for you?”

She chuckles at her words. Definitely not, but she masks it by saying. “We don’t have enough money tonight. Another time.”

### 

Props to the man whom now she knows is called Jung Yoonoh…he doesn’t look half as bad in those clothes as anyone else would.

The milky way spreads on Erika’s pupils when she leans on the table that she had taken up in the hotel’s restaurant a little bit over an hour ago. Her line of sight is filled with none other than Yoonoh, whom she had practically cried to just to invite him to have dinner with the two of them. Erika has practically eaten her weight in Oreo milkshakes, but she can’t quite say she is not starving by the time she slips into the leather seats and she smells the delicious cooking from the kitchen.

Compare that to the bland sandwich she has in her locker.

The little girl talks even out of her elbows. Yoonoh, however, patiently listens, trying to keep up with the grand story she has for the outfit she had picked for him. That explains why people take second-glances towards him. Not that he is not handsome enough; the lighting at that house his girl had kicked him out of did not do justice to his chiseled, quite carved face, but there is something about his clothing that captures most of the attention.

A pair of pink flip flops that Erika had picked up at last after they both forgot about shoes. Tight red leather pants that showcase the strength and curve of his thighs, quite lean, elongated legs that she had taken a second look at when seeing him out of the bushes with some clothes on. And, how to forget the old, quite used black tank top that reads: ‘With a body like this, who needs a personality?’.

She had laughed when she saw him.

Her fingers dip her fries on some ketchup by the time Yoonoh does so, sparing her a glance over Erika’s shoulder when the little girl says:

“My friend doesn’t need boys.” The girl adds, wrapping her hands around her mouth before saying. “But don’t feel offended, she still finds boys cool.”

“Some of them.” She corrects, connecting her gaze with Yoonoh’s just as the man leans back on his seat, crossing his arms across his chest.

“Oh, words from a broken heart. Who hurt you?” He questions, quirking one of his eyebrows before taking a bite of the fried chicken he had insisted on getting. Something about those brown eyes seem to capture her perfectly, as if reading her like a book…and she doesn’t like it.

“I’m just too busy to care.” Her voice wavers the slightest when letting out her excuse and then, she scoffs. “You know, that happens when you’re the manager of a hotel.”

“Understandable.” Yoonoh nods a few times before that dimple appears again. “Too busy to care or too busy to date?”

Her face burns by the time Yoonoh asks that question, pleased with the way she widens her eyes. “When did we decide to make me the subject of our conversation?”

“You saw me half-naked, I get to know something about you other than the pressed suits and the obvious distrust issues.” Yoonoh’s tone is playful, that smile never erased from his features, while her frown deepens. She can’t say he’s not correct, but he’s also poking at her nerves with his words.

“I don’t have trust issues.”

He hums. “Your first reaction is to say no to everything. You deny every word that is thrown your way.”

“Because I happen to think guys like you just feel like they know it all.” She comments, taking the same position as him while crossing one leg over the other. Erika just looks between the two, trying to understand this conversation to no avail. “You read and read people, but I can read you well, Yoonoh.”

He expands his arms, showing that ridiculous shirt. May be half true, his body is great, and his personality may be a little bit insufferable. “Read me.”

“Bachelor with a good job who has that ‘rise and grind’ mentality. Don’t take relationships seriously. Can’t look past what’s in front of him and oh, trust issues, too.” She relishes on leaning over the table, watching as his eyes concern the rest of her face, taking in her every feature before his gaze delves down to the fold of her shirt, no buttons opened, but he’s trying to see something there.

“You want me to look at what’s in front of me?” He questions. “It’s you. Didn’t know that was your way of flirting with me. Guess I really do have to thank you for the…outfit.”

“And me!” Erika raises her hand, waiving it in the air happily.

His tutting tone changes when smiling at her. “Thank you, Erika.”

“Who hurt you, Jung Yoonoh?” She questions, mocking the tone he had used on her and trying to stop a smile from appearing on her lips. So, playing around with him is fun, as it seems.

He stops for a moment, as if thinking. The curve of his mouth falls down the slightest and she hears a breath-in that she overthinks about, noticing that there is pain in even the brightest of people. Instead, he shrugs. “I haven’t gotten my heart broken.” Yoonoh says, playing with the strands of his hair, curves of his arms contorting. “Want to be the first to break it, sweetheart?”

“You wish.” She scoffs, only to have Yoonoh dipping more of his fries in ketchup.

“You wouldn’t even kill an ant.” Yoonoh swats without importance. “I doubt you’d break my heart.”

“I wouldn’t want to break your heart, and that’s what differentiates us.” She points between them. “Good cop, bad cop.”

“Excuse me.” A tender voice cuts through the air around us, a young-looking guy with innocent features and glasses too big for his face waves a Polaroid camera in his hold when nearing them. “May I take a picture of you? I have a photography project for a class I’m taking in college and I need to take pictures that bring nostalgia and warmth. I happened to think your little family could be the perfect subject.”

Before she could fully deny they are a family, Erika is wrapping both her little arms around their shoulders as she settles at the center of the table, smiling at the camera. “Cheese!”

Two pictures are taken before she could fully bring a smile to her face, her eyes connecting to Yoonoh’s over the table in a look that she can’t quite recognize. His smile has erased but still, he’s the one to take the picture when the college student says:

“One for you, one for me.” He says, bowing slightly. “Thank you.”

With that, he is gone, but the effect of his picture lingers when she realizes where she is. A complete stranger sits at the same table as her, trying to figure each other our while she should have put Erika to bed long ago, continue with her job and not even look to the sides to see whose lives are coexisting while she’s just working.

“Sorry.” She stands up, shaking her head at her own antics. Helped him, she had already done, and now she has no business to sit with him, grab a bite and just pretend that she doesn’t have things to do. Yoonoh looks up from the picture, eyebrows furrowed when she grabs Erika by the arms and hoists her up. “I—I have to work. I don’t…I shouldn’t…I shouldn’t be here with you.”

“Why?” Yoonoh questions, voice softened when she shakes her head.

“I just shouldn’t.” She finishes, not knowing quite well what this feels like. Casually flirting with a man like him means trouble. “Goodbye, Yoonoh.”

She says those words with the harshest weight of the world, turning around and rushing out of the restaurant while Erika screams out Yoonoh’s name in need for more fun in the night. Nonetheless, she feels someone’s eyes trailing after her, but she knows one look over her shoulder would only bring more questions to her head.

What was the universe trying to do when putting him on her road?

###

There is a picture in his wallet that doesn’t even begin to answer the questions roaming his head. As confused as in the beginning, Yoonoh remains.

He doesn’t know why he stares at it after finishing his meal during lunchtime, the office emptied out of people, flicking at the corner of the Polaroid he would not show anyone even if they paid him a billion won. He just wouldn’t. That ridiculous shirt and those obnoxiously tight pants that definitely gave him a carpet burn that he’s still feeling two days later, should have been enough of a reason not to wonder about the sudden change of mind the hotel manager had. 

Maybe, he had offended her. Though, she had kept on playing his game—and he half meant what he said. People like her are easy to read. Definitely an organization freak, perhaps a bit nerdy, with enough worries in her mind to fill an entire book. She wasn’t wrong about his trust issues either, but as he splays his fingertips on top of her placement in the picture, the only one who is not fully smiling, he ponders…

What’s about this girl that has his mind bringing her back all the time?

He closes his wallet just as he opens his sketchbook. A new one, because in his hassle, he had ripped the other that he had filled with all his dreams and hopes. He had crafted bodies, all in different sizes, to design something…and nothing had come to mind, not until he saw her again. That treasure hidden under baggy suits and clothes that he would have never looked at twice if only he hadn’t been captured by the naïve elegance in her face.

His eyes had tried to look, capture a glimpse of the curves around her body, and his imagination gave him more than what he could actually perceive. Yet, it had been enough. Flipping through his color scheme cards, he compares it to the vision he had inside his brain. Conservative, but still enough to feel powerful…

Violet. He doesn’t know why he picks it, but he does.

His fingers can’t stop sketching over the model he has on his sketchbook. He imagines lace and stain, draped thin pieces of clothing over the shoulders. Enough coverage for a one piece…and it comes to him in the form of a muse he would have never imagined. Someone who did not even show him anything, never gave him a chance to talk or fly, because that’s what he had never tried. What Silhouette had never stood for.

The people who are too shy to wear something like what they design.

Attractiveness is a feeling most people should get used to. Being looked at in an adoring light or have a flower thrown their way in the form of a compliment is desired, but has been lost in the eye of lust. Every word of adoration these days has been related to something—the imminent stoppage of the moment for the promise of sex. Never had Yoonoh thought of his designs as something more than a form of self-seduction, with the portrayal of self-love as a higher force for lust, but now, he sees it again.

Lingerie shouldn’t be seducing. It should be a weapon of beauty; a piece of clothing to be taken into consideration, colors that merge well with one’s personality. Not everyone is ready to fully unveil themselves in the light of the sexualized society we live in. Sometimes, people just want to feel nice fabrics against their skin or a glimmer of gorgeousness without showing everything.

The magic of designing is in delicacy.

The ideas come to him then. What was once a two piece for Yoonoh, now is one. What was once see-through, now makes up for riskiness in designs and curves, fabrics added to give more structure, instead of more nudity. Lingerie doesn’t have to be a thin layer of clothing—it can be beautiful, crafted and built.

His e-mail dings with a new entrance, stopping him on his third design as he envisions what must be under that suit—what would fit her and other working people for needing a boost, without actually showing the clothing to anyone but themselves, but soon enough, his face falls at Siyeon’s e-mail.

Subject: The Boss Wants You to Work.

Greetings, my beloved Yoonoh,

Silhouette has been known for its strong stance in the fashion community, and I have been pleased to land a runway show for us in, specifically, twenty-nine (29) days. In light of this, I send you the list of things you have to do:

1)   Design a set for the main male model of the runway, Kim Jungwoo. It has to be a showstopper if you want to keep working with him. I need this to be sent in 6 days.

2)   Find a nice and not as expensive place for the publicity photoshoot to take part on. I don’t want simple. I need ravishing visuals.

3)   Talk to the newbie models and make sure that said day, the stylists don’t screw up.

Thank you.

Sincerely,

Jeon Siyeon.

Yoonoh rolls his eyes before starting to type a reply. The devil must be in front of her computer.

Subject: [RE]: The Boss Wants You to Work.

Hello,

I had already started working on a female set. I’m a female lingerie designer. I think I am not the one in charge of Jungwoo’s outfit.

Sincerely,

Jung Yoonoh.

The response comes just as he begins scrabbling his ideas into paper once again.

Subject: Who asked?

I want you to work on Jungwoo’s outfit. See if you get better while working on boxers instead of bras.

Not as sincerely,

Jeon Siyeon.

Spreading one hand on top of his sketchbook, he rubs the bridge of his nose before he breathes in deeply. Okay, now it seems like he has to craft something for a model that he doesn’t even know about, as well as finding the place for a photoshoot. An assistant, he seems to be now, and Siyeon’s, nonetheless.

But a place comes to mind, soon enough.

###

Devastation comes short to the wails that leave the kid’s lips. That speaks of pleas and pain.

Over a week of Sachiko coming up with different meetings had led up to an expected, yet somewhat uncalculated, road trip to where she hopes to build her second hotel. That said, she won’t stay for a day or two, but for the entirety of two weeks away from Erika. The daughter that now clings onto Sachiko like a koala, hiding her face in the crook of her neck, black hair matching her own as she cries uncontrollably.

Sachiko is at her apartment’s doorstep, luggage by the side of her elongated legs, as she shushes her daughter with a worried gaze. “You’re going to be okay, baby.” Then, she calls out her name, trying to wipe the tears in her eyes with just one hand. “You’ll be taken care of…and I will be back before you know it.”

“Why do you leave?!” Erika screeches, and Sachiko tries her best to reason with her, but her own whines are stopping her.

So, with her pajamas and tiredness lingering within her, she places a hand on top of Erika’s back. “Because your mom wants you to have a great life, Erika. She wants to buy you all you need and for you to have dreams as big as hers.” Maybe, she won’t get it now, but it’s the best she can do to explain the situation.

It manages to make Erika turn around, blinking her tears onto her cheeks. “I don’t want her to go.”

“We’ll mark the calendar…and she’ll come soon enough.” She whispers out, and it’s at this moment that she regrets saying yes to Sachiko when she asked her to take care of her daughter for a little while longer.

A little while longer shouldn’t mean two weeks.

Still, Erika doesn’t let go of her mom. She’s glued to her.

“I made you some hot chocolate, and I have some pudding that I prepared for me earlier.” Because sugary sweet meals seem to make her feel better in these days of uncertainty. This makes Erika widen her eyes, looking back at her mom before questioning her with a small smile.

“There you go, there’s my smiling baby.” Sachiko finishes, putting her daughter down before looking down at her watch. “My taxi is waiting for me. You can call me tomorrow, Erika, okay?”

“Yes, mommy!” But Erika is already moving towards the kitchen to grab a mug of that sweet, sweet hot chocolate.

She knows sweets are her weak point.

The only weak point she has.

“Make sure she sleeps early, okay?” Sachiko says, and all she can do is nod.

“Sure thing.” I can’t promise a thing, she thinks.

“And that she doesn’t eat too many sweets. I’ll let this one slide.”

“Only veggies.” She says as she grabs her doorframe in between her hold. Only to give her something sweet after she throws the veggies at my face, her mind replies.

“Thank you.” Sachiko adds over her shoulder, a smile to her face. “I know it’s difficult, but I really don’t have any family to take care of her and I really do trust you. I promise to pay you well after all this.”

That’s a nice start.

“Don’t worry. Me and Erika get along well.” That’s not a lie, but taking care of a kid is extremely tiring. “Just get in your taxi. We’ll be fine.”

With that, minutes pass by of complete silence, Erika’s eyes trained on her phone, blasting Peppa Pig, with one or two hiccups escaping here and there as she drinks her first mug of chocolate. She joins her, slicing another bit of cake and shrugging off whatever thought appears inside her brain.

The chocolate merges on the roof of her mouth, warming her to the tip of her toes, each aching muscle after hours of working relaxing, even a bit entranced by the show she’s not watching, but might be brain-washing her just like the rest of the kids.

“Another one, please.” Erika says after finishing her episode, extending her mug of chocolate towards her before she smiles sweetly.

She shakes her head. “Mom said no sweets.”

“Please?” The little girl drags with dulcetness in her tone, but she repeats the previous action.

“Nope.”

Erika places the mug down, head laying low before she repeats: “Chocolate, please!”

“I said nope.”

The kid stops for a moment, thinking as the sound of the dishwasher starting up as she cleans the mugs and the plates, and just then, her small voice is heard again:

“You don’t give me chocolates because you’re sad about Yoonoh?”

That makes her halter all steps. Yoonoh. The man that she had met days ago. Adonis without a shirt on, and then some weird 2011 wannabe that happened to have dinner with her and Erika. The lingering flirtations between the two had not been forgotten, those pair of eyes that somehow seemed to want to strip her of her utmost secrets, only for her to back away.

Yoonoh means trouble.

“I am not sad about Yoonoh.” She adds, turning around with her damp hands ending up over her waist. “Why do you think I’m sad about him?”

“Because he’s your boy!” Erika screeches as if it’s the most obvious thing, and she’s starting to get tired of the kid’s insane romanticism mixed with optimism. Sure, she’s a kid, but Disney should start making less princesses with a prince. “Mommy explained it to me.”

“What did she explain?” Not that she’s understanding a thing, but please, she does need to be enlightened.

“I asked mommy how people acted when they were in pairs.”

“When they are couples.”

“Yep!” The grin on her chubby cheeks is enchanting, but by what she’s saying, she’s about to ask Sachiko to pick her up again. The love talk is not her thing. “And she said boys smile a lot and they speak weirdly, like things I can’t understand.” That is a way to put it. “And the girl looks down a lot…and I don’t remember what else she said, but you did all those things with Yoonoh. He is your boy!”

“Boyfriend, not boy.” She corrects, turning around to continue to wash the dishes. Was he smiling at her? She had seen the dimple, but she hadn’t thought that he had beamed around like a madman. “And he’s not my boyfriend. I don’t have one.”

“But why?” Erika drags her voice.

“We already had the talk of Moana and Merida.”

“I get that. I’m like them. I don’t want to be with boys.” She utters innocently, standing up to tug at her sleeve. “But you are with Yoonoh.”

“Oh, no.” She shakes her head, laughter escaping her lips. “You hit your head, Erika.”

“I didn’t!” The little girl says, scratching her head just in case. “You’re a princess. He’s a prince—”

“Erika!” She stops her, interrupting her with ease before sighing. “I met Yoonoh the day we saw him, and I didn’t like him that way. We aren’t even friends.”

She juts out her lip. “I wasn’t friends with Mina either.” That’s Erika’s best friend from school. “But we became friends in a day. She put a worm in the teacher’s sandwich…” Her voice becomes soft, a blush appearing on her face. “It was awesome.”

“It’s different for adults.” That’s the best way to put it. She shakes the water away from her hands after closing the faucet before patting them dry on a towel. “What would you do if I said I disliked Yoonoh?”

“Nothing.” She adds. “You said you liked cool boys, and he’s a cool boy.”

He’s an overachieving asshole with a nice smile that could potentially enter her heart if she let him, but that should and would never happen. That’s who he is.

“Erika, I’ll tell your mom to ground you if we keep this conversation up.”

That seems to make her stop, grabbing her phone once again—and she knows the password, which is even worse, kids in this generation are geniuses—, before adding: “Does Peppa have a boy?”

“Oh my God, no!”

This will definitely be a long night.

###  

His mind is blank. Absolutely blank. Lingerie for men is even more difficult than lingerie for women. 

Jungwoo gives another walk on the stage, bleached blonde hair barely moving with each step he takes. He’s in the simple designs, the first launch of Silhouette, as bland as bland can get, and while his strut is fine, he can’t think of anything. Nothing that couldn’t be just a simple pair of boxer briefs thrown on a model. He could do that, but that’s so common, so plastered on paper. He wants to do something else, and yet, in the day of the photoshoot, he can’t think of anything.

“Why are you making me do this?” He met Jungwoo a few days ago, and he was actually quite surprised to recognize who he is. A runway model that has been around the world and all over fashion weeks. His dulcet personality and tall frame have gotten him somewhere, that’s for sure. “I should be already in my clothes and ready to take pictures.”

“I have nothing.” In the middle of the hotel’s ballroom, Jungwoo stops walking at the sound of Yoonoh’s voice. The designer looks down at his sketchbook, where he had made the drawing of a body similar to Jungwoo’s and still, nothing came to mind.

“…You have to have something.”

“A pair of black boxers.” He turns the sketchbook around just as Jungwoo slips a robe over his body and ties it securely. “Better than white boxer briefs, sexier, too. All the women I’ve been with likes them.”

“I won’t model that.” Jungwoo conquers, a lightweight laugh following after. “Those look like plain cotton boxers.”

“Well, I just don’t know what to design. Either I make you look tacky or I make you look bland. There is no in-between.”

“That bad?” Jungwoo questions, taking a seat next to him before grabbing a water bottle. “People are going to be here any minute. Everyone has decorated and I’m not sure my manager will be happy to hear that I came here just for nothing.”

A look is spared to the model, with Yoonoh shaking his head softly. He has to think of something. He can’t give Siyeon the benefit of seeing him tuck with a simple design.

His pencil taps against the drawing for a few seconds before he breathes out a few words: “You’re okay with being more covered?”

Conservative and elegant is more of what he has been aspiring for, with that peek of skin that makes the world go around. It’s what he has been drawing these days, but mostly with a muse in mind.

“Sure. I wasn’t over the moon thinking my ass was going to be out in the world.”

Yoonoh chuckles at that, turning the page around from the plain black boxers before sketching something else. “How about a crop top? With a fabric similar to a bralette, and you look better in red than you do in black.” He draws a diagonal line across the ribcage, making slitted long sleeves to showcase pieces of biceps, filling it up with the color red in a quick hassled manner that he will fix later. “Maybe some chains and garments around that wrap up to your waist.”

“I like that.” Jungwoo announces when looking over his shoulder.

“I’ll keep the black boxers. I still think they are classics, and I can talk to the management team to make them more than just cotton.” Yoonoh announces, soon after looking at the picture before clicking his tongue. “I think there’s something lacking.”

“Dunno. You’re the designer, but I’d wear this out of the runway.”

That’s something good, but Yoonoh is thinking of something else. People in real life transcending into their own confident version. That’s what he wants to portray. He draws a suit jacket draped over his shoulders, falling onto his long legs until it reaches midway through his calves, before sketching a pair of pants on the side. Loose, simple, highlighted in the waist.

“We could connect do something like…like suspenders. Office guy turns into midnight God.” Once again, he’s sketching. “You’d wear this, the crop top underneath but I have no idea how you’d show the boxers.”

“Make them low cut.” Jungwoo suggests, eyes trained on his phone momentarily when he crosses one leg over the other. “That way, the boxer’s band will be showing, and it will have Silhouette’s name there. I’d take off the jacket to show the statement piece.”

Yoonoh thinks about it, erasing the line at the waist before drawing the band, and his eyes glimmer at the image underneath him. Not as bad as he imagined it.

“Your ideas are good.”

“Thanks, I’m not just a pretty face.” Jungwoo jokes around, only standing up when the doors of the ballroom come open.

The theme of the photoshoot is simple. A party at the eighties, with beaming colors and disco balls. Darkened walls, confetti, everything has been added to highlight the idea Yoonoh had come up with. Nonetheless, his team is not the one barging in the room when the doors open, instead, he’s met with another darkened suit and a serious face that stares down at her agenda.

“Morning, people. I’m sorry I’m late. I was figuring out an issue at the penthouse, but I am here to help you with any form of decoration or with any question you may have.” The hotel manager stands there. Not that Yoonoh ever pondered they could not meet each other when he had specifically picked her hotel—he had walked through when entering the restaurant, and the three-stars help with the price, but the decorations are immaculate. Architecture its utmost beauty.

Now that he sees her, a smile spreads across his features. Maybe, a bit too soon—in a way that has him pushing it down because it is not possible to get that reaction out of him when it’s not faux. That woman had stood him up without even much of a reason, in the literal sense of the word, took those pretty legs away from the seat and walked away after they had been having fun.

He wore those leather pants. She owed him not leaving him in the middle of a restaurant with her meal and his to pay.

When she looks up at him, a few sentiments flash before her eyes, but he can’t guess any of them. He breathes out her name, capturing her off guard when she questions:

“You remember me?” Her voice is levelled as she moves forward, with a tinge of curiousness.

Yoonoh shrugs his shoulders in his fitted black sweater, paired with dark ripped jeans. “I wasn’t shitfaced. Just half-naked.”

That makes her frown deeply when she looks up at him again. “Don’t you dare say that out loud in front of anyone.” Soon after, she’s talking to Jungwoo. “I—Don’t listen to him. I’m the manager of this hotel and I have no business with this man.”

Jungwoo lifts his hands in the air. “None of my business, but please, do let me hear.”

He doesn’t know why it surprises him that Jungwoo likes gossip. “Why? You’re embarrassed of helping me out?”

“You’re saying it with double intentions.”

Yoonoh chuckles. “I wasn’t intending on anything the night we met.”

“Oh, come on.” She rolls her eyes, making him raise his eyebrows. That cynic voice in her is not something he expected. “We both know what kind of intentions you have with everyone. It seeps from you.”

“Seeps from me?”

“You had no issue going with some stranger after being kicked out of your…your hook up’s house and you were smiling and using those eyes on me and buddy,” She stops, a short laugh leaving her lips. Her index finger extends to point at him. “I’m not a charity case. I’m not in need of a man. I don’t need you to come around and cause me trouble, okay? If you’re here just to tease me instead of letting me do my job, then we’re off to a bad start.”

Offended is short for what he feels. Sure, he may not make a big deal out of hook ups, but it’s not like he’s the easiest man in the world. And if he was, why does she care?

“You’re the one talking about my eyes. I never made eyes at you.”

That makes her stop, holding her agenda to her chest before patting her ponytail in place. “Okay. Fine.”

“You just think you’re so much better than you, don’t you?” Yoonoh spites, crossing his arms across his chest, never once raising his voice.

“Excuse me?”

“Oh, yes, you take care of your boss’ child. You’re so sweet and kind. So in synch with yourself you need no one’s company…” He trails off, pointing them out with the sharpness of his words. “That’s fine, but it’s not fine when you point fingers at people for being with other people. The twenty-first century is calling, they are here to say you can show someone your ankles without losing all sense of rightfulness.”

Scoffing, she shakes her head, a sarcastic smile appearing on her features. “Yoonoh, I know men like you.” She starts. The typical stance people have of him. Men like him. “You’re a…around with a bunch of women, and you use your good looks to your advantage, never care about anybody but you, never take anyone out on a date—”

He gets closer at that moment, lowering his eyes onto her lips before connecting them with hers. “…You wanted me to take you out on a date and that’s why you’re mad about me being a thot?”

“No!”

His hand reaches for one of her ears, laughing when he feels the heat. “Your ears are hot. Have something to tell me?”

“Where’s the person in charge of this photoshoot?” She slaps his hand away, turning to Jungwoo who has the biggest grin on his features.

“Oh, it’s him. The asshole Jung Yoonoh.” Jungwoo conquers with a flick of his finger before he expands his hands in front of them. “But please do continue. I love a good drama.”

“You?!” She gasps that word out as if it’s venom, a sharp intake coming after.

“Me.” Yoonoh retorts, a smirk appearing on his face. “And I happen to have lots of questions about this ballroom.”

He doesn’t, but he enjoys his next thirty minutes, trying to get the offense out of his body by having her carrying boxes—not heavy, but definitely bothersome when ordered by him—and giving her his phone number wrongly three times as she finished up the contract and the bill for the rent of the ballroom. Exasperation is short for what she feels, but as she’s working on that bill, he realizes something.

The shirt underneath her suit is a sunshine yellow, and he may change violet from the position of his desired color on her, because yellow makes her beam like never before. It gives her a powerful stance, standing out even in between seas of models posing around.

Though what she thinks of him has been a repetition of what he has heard before, somehow, he cares a little bit more when it comes from the one woman that has inspired him to do better with his designs. Not that she even cares about his position as a designer.

For her, he’s only another asshole who uses people to his will, and that’s only half correct.

###  

“The sexual tension was so thick I had a hard time breathing. Seriously, it was like when I used to steal rated magazines when I was young!”

The maids cheer and giggle to themselves when Blue spits out another version of the story that she and Yoonoh supposedly wrote yesterday afternoon in the ballroom. She has to play with the lettuce of her sandwich, cheek squished against her palm as she watches Erika stare in between the seas of women, following after every reaction even when she doesn’t understand them.

“Blue, don’t say such words in front of Erika.” She tells them, biting on her densely sauce-coated sandwich, before breathing out softly. How could they think of Yoonoh as a dream when he’s obviously a womanizer dressed in sheep’s clothing?

Or the devil. He’s definitely the devil.

“Whatever.” Blue, in her eighties, moves the skirt of her gray uniform before picking up one of the maids. One of the youngest and the tallest, with a long black fringe and moon-bathed features. Chaewon, she thinks her name is. “He told her: ‘Need help with those boxes’?” She lowers her voice to be a faux deep vibrato. “And she said: ‘No, I can do it myself. Thank you.’” That time around, her voice lifts up.

“I don’t speak like that.”

“And then, he retorted by saying: ‘I know, but my arms are waiting to hold something. I think you’d rather it be boxes.’”

More screeches and giggles follow after that statement, and she rolls her eyes because he did say that.

Chaewon ends up being swooped over, rolled around in Blue’s hold before she’s cooing. “I was expecting him to lower her down and give her that kiss that she was definitely asking for with her gaze,” She imitates the actions by looking down at Chaewon. She’s an actress, even at such an old age. “She kept looking at his lips before she cut him off, and you had to say the way his eyes lingered on her…”

“Where was he looking?” One of the maids asks, organizing the towels in their little eating room when Blue lets of Chaewon to let her sit somewhere else.

“He wasn’t looking.” The manager defends, ears heated up…but because of the golden lights here, definitely.

“Everywhere! There was not a portion of her that he simply did not worship with his gaze alone. He wanted to ravish her like—”

More heat, and maybe, summer is coming around earlier than expected. “Blue, stop reading those romance books with naked men on the cover. They’re getting to you.”

Blue laughs at her antics, her curled gray hair jumping around when she takes a seat in front of her. She continues to bite on her sandwich. “Aw, come on, boss. You can’t expect us not to want to see you with that man.” She covers her mouth to lower her voice before whispering: “He’s sexy.”

“Jung Yoonoh is anything but that!” She defends, leaning back on her seat and trashing the last bit that was left of her sandwich. She opens her water bottle and gulps it quickly.

“Look at that heat!” One of the maids adds, and Chaewon nods in return. “How does he look like, Blue? He sounds like a dream.”

“Pecs over pecs over pecs. He had…” The oldest woman curves her hands in the air and the manager has to scoff.

“Stop thirsting over him.”

“His girlfriend over there will get jealous but you had to see that sweater on him. That man is lean and had the sweetest, prince-like face. But not the kind of prince that wants you for his kingdom, having you wearing proper dresses and greeting the crowd.” She stops for a second, thick silence lingering in the air before she adds. “But the kind of prince that sneaks you into the castle to show you ever room—”

“More sexualization, great.” Her knees buckle when she picks Erika up from her spot in between the maids. “I have a meeting with the valet team. You better stop talking about this if you don’t want me to talk with Sachiko about your disrespect towards our clients.”

She opens the door when Erika wraps her arms around her neck, turning around to wave to the maids. “Bye!”

“Bye-bye, honey!” Blue waves back, returning to the crowd to say: “And his hair—”

She has to close the door with a bang as a huff leaves her lips. Everything has been about Jung Yoonoh these days, but what is the sudden obsession to have her paired up with someone who will definitely shatter her to pieces?

Every thought about him shall be erased as soon as possible now that he has finished with his photoshoot. She won’t hear about Jung Yoonoh ever again.

###

“And then, she went on to call me a man-whore or something. Practically drawing me as the biggest scumbag to ever exist.”

It’s way over nine at night when he finally has the time to check over what the manufacturing team had done with the design that he had sketched for Jungwoo. He still needed to take his pictures for the event, asking the graphic design team to help him out with the deadline, but that’s the least of his worries. Johnny is by his side, lost in his phone as he listened to his story, being his support for another all-nighter.

He unfolds the blood red fabric of the crop top and smiles in delight. Fitted, with slits that could pierce well into the subject of edge, and some chains dangling in elegant curves towards the waist, with Swarovski diamonds in between. He continues to look through the pieces, pants and jacket as well, when he hears Johnny speaking up.

“She’s not wrong.” He says, still engraved on his phone. “You’re a bit of an ass and you haven’t been in a serious relationship ever since I met you. Even before that, you have been single and into hook-ups. Why are you bothered?”

“Because I am not like that. I don’t have the time to embark in a relationship, okay?” Yoonoh mutters out, placing the jacket down on the table to look at it more precisely. “She has this…this air of arrogance of thinking she’s better than me. I don’t know, like…she just thinks I am some kind of douchebag that gets to her nerves—”

“Yet, still you sketch her.” That is the moment he hears the pages of his sketchbook being flickered at. Yoonoh widens his eyes, turning around to close it just as he says:

“Let go of that!”

“They’re pretty. Don’t be a nerd about it.” Once again, Johnny has taken the sketchbook, turning around to keep it away from his hold. “Are you into BDSM or something? People talking down on you? Women hating you so badly that they are kinda into you?”

Hate. That word is enormous, and he wouldn’t like to use it when plotting what she feels for him. Strong dislike, let’s go with that. “I’m not.” He denies all allegations. “…You just have to see her.”

“Ass or tits?”

“Not that.” Yoonoh feels his own cheeks heating up as a smile takes over his features. Not that he had gotten to see a lot with how baggy her suits are, but attractive is short for how he would describe her. “It’s in the way she holds herself. She’s the quiet kind of powerful. With everyone, she is kind and understanding, and yet, her action speak louder than she does. She’s independent and doesn’t let anyone else help her, even if she’s over the top with assignments and—”

“And it kind of sounds like you’re paying a little too much attention to her.” Johnny closes the sketchbook at that moment, quirking an eyebrow at his friend. “What’s with you, Yoonoh?”

The man scoffs, shaking his head. “Nothing. Just saying. I’m so angry that she’s like that, I just—”

“No, you’re not angry. Real angry Yoonoh? It’s the kind of Yoonoh we see with Siyeon. Not this one, talking about how he loves someone’s kindness.” His eyes trail over to his sketchbook, then to the design for Jungwoo before he’s ripping one page out and jotting down a message for the manufacturing team. It’s alright, he just wants a few more diamonds. “Come on, man. Talk about it. Mama Seo used to say there are no secrets in this household.”

“What do you want me to say?” Annoyance seeps from his voice when he looks over his shoulder. “Yes, I was interested. Yes, I guess we kind of flirted. Yes, she still ran away and yes, she absolutely despises my guts?”

“…She blew you off.” Johnny says that as if it’s the biggest announcement in the world.

Yoonoh shrugs. “Yeah, so what? It’s not like I asked her or made it known—”

“For the first time in his life, Jung Yoonoh didn’t get blown, he got blown off!”

“Johnny, it’s not funny—”

“I have to see who this woman is.” Johnny gets his phone out of his pocket, opening his Instagram app before he’s lurking for her. “What’s her name?”

Maybe, curiousness got the best of him when he stands behind Johnny, looking over his shoulder when he rasps out her name.

“There we have her.” His friend announces just as he clicks on the first account. “Private. I can’t really see her face in the profile picture.” It’s the silhouette of a woman, most likely her, in a sunset. Her hands are fisted deep in her pockets and she must be looking at the sun. “Should I message her? Something like: ‘Hi, if you don’t want to date Yoonoh, I’m single and the second-best option’?”

He’s joking around, yet, Yoonoh stares longingly at that picture. Something about her is so lukewarm that he finds himself at peace. He has always liked everything scalding hot—his relationships, his hook-ups, his meals, even the days that he spends at the beach, but now, he is interested in silence and tranquilness. In that lukewarm nature that comes within her, never too cold, never too hot.

“No.” His voice sounds unused when he finally speaks up. “Leave her be.”

Johnny’s eyes inspect his features. “Dude…there is really something about her, isn’t it?”

“I’ll never know, I guess.” Yoonoh finalizes, shrugging his shoulders before moving towards the edge of the room and turning off the lights. “Let’s go, I’m starving.”

###

“I won’t take a bath! I don’t want to!”

Five days from Sachiko’s arrival and she already feels like breaking. Breaking down or breaking out of her home, one or the other. Erika screams at the top of her lungs while rushing out of the bathroom, still very much in her pajamas, to sit down in front of her TV and watch another cartoon.

She throws the towel over her shoulder, eyes half-closing from tiredness when she breathes out softly and approaches her again. “Erika, get in the bath. It’ll be quick.”

The little girl shakes her head, hugging her knees to her chest. “I don’t want to.”

“Sometimes, I don’t want to either, but you have to.” She announces, taking a seat next to her to run her fingers through her hair. “Come on, Eri, it’s just a bath.”

“Nope.” The little girl mumbles, growing more annoyed by the second.

“You’ll stink. You don’t want anyone to smell your scent if it’s bad.”

“It’s okay.”

“Someone will come visit us.” She doesn’t know why that’s the first excuse she comes up with. Truth be told, none of her friends live in this city, and her family are nowhere near either. Loneliness is something she is used to, and she doesn’t like being the house’s host all that much, either. “And you really like them, so we need to bathe you before they come.”

Erika raises her eyebrows, a big smile appearing on her face: “Peppa?”

“No, not Peppa.” From the back of her mind, she can’t think of anybody who will come here that Erika really likes. She’s not entirely obsessed with Blue, and the woman is too old to take a taxi here. She is not sure who Erika likes apart from her…and Sachiko is not here. “Ah…” Think, think, think. “Yoonoh, my…uh…my boyfriend. He’s coming over.” 

The title makes her cringe, but Erika stands up in her couch, hair wild and little fists connecting to her shirt when she says: “He’s coming! You didn’t tell me!”

“Oh, I was just waiting for you to take a bath first.” She tries to sound smart, but this is the worst idea she could have. Sure, she saved his number when she was making that bill for the rented ballroom, but that has been about it. Never texted him, never planned to, much less to tell him to come over and pretend to be her boyfriend just so Erika takes a goddamned shower.

“I will! Hurray!” Erika moves away from the couch, rushing over to take off her clothes.

“I’ll go fill up the bathtub in a sec, okay?”

“Yes!”

This is the worst idea she has ever had.

By the time she hears the door to the guest room closing, she sighs deeply, going over to the kitchen to unplug her phone and look down at her contact list. Her heart is racing, eyebrows frowned in worry when she sees it in glimmering lights:

Jung Yoonoh (Never Respond. Not Even If You’re Dying).

She’s not dying, but she definitely feels like it.

Whenever she got a cut as a kid and she put a band-aid on it, she took the band-aid off in one harsh tug. It’d rip some hairs apart, but it wouldn’t hurt—it wouldn’t make her hesitate as much as she did. This is one of those decisions that need to be done that way; as if she’s drunk and she needs to call her ex, or as if buying that dress that she’ll never wear sounds like a good idea today.

The phone rings a few times and she paces back and forth in the kitchen, giving a few puffs out and jumping in place before she hears it.

“Hello?”

His voice is to die for. One of those melodies that anyone wants to hear when they are waking up, mumbling sweet nothings, promising whatever the hell sounds great at the time, and it’s so dangerous that it has her closing her eyes, trying to fight a shiver and not exactly of anxiousness.

“Yoonoh, I need your help.”

A bead of silence follows soon after, and it comes as a surprise when he mumbles her name. She hums in return. “Why are you calling me? How do you have my phone?”

“Don’t ask.” She tells him, about to start her rant when Yoonoh cuts her off with a deep chuckle.

“You stole it from my bill.”

Caught, yet, she places a hand on her waist. “I wanted to save it just in case you decided to call me and make my day more difficult.”

“Oh, if I called you, it’d be to ease any kind of stress.” He purrs out, making her groan out loud when a lighter laugh from him comes about. “What can I help you with, ice princess?”

“Stop it with the names.”

“Boss?”

“I said—”

“Stop it with the names, I know. I will.”

When there is another pause, she knows she can speak, so she does. “…Erika believes we are in a relationship.” He doesn’t scream at the idea or laugh straight at her face, so she sighs. “And she’s also like madly connected to you. Seriously, she never stops talking about you and how you were so cool and whatnot. She only agreed to bathing now that I told her my…” She clears her throat. Shit, this is awkward. “My boyfriend is coming to visit, but you’re my supposed boyfriend and you’re nowhere around. I was wondering if you could come over, I don’t know, for like thirty minutes and then leave, just to fulfill that promise.”

Another elongated silence comes soon after, but it’s followed by a hum from Yoonoh.

“You didn’t say we were friends,” He teases, and she rolls her eyes at his antics. “You still went on with the boyfriend thing. Something you want to tell me?”

“Erika thinks we are together.”

“Erika meaning you.”

“I would personally sew my lips if we were to be in a relationship, Yoonoh.”

He chuckles, though she hears some moving. “Why? You’d want to make out with me so badly that you would want to stop yourself?”

“You wish.”

“Kinda.” Yoonoh confesses and it sounds like a pin falling to the floor. It makes her anxious, because the idea of being trapped in his arms, mouths molding into each other, breaths mixing, tongue intertwining is not so bad when in theory. “So, where do you live?”

“You’re coming?”

“Yeah, but in like forty-five.”

With that, she gives him the address, only to hear Yoonoh breathing into the microphone.

“So, my dear girlfriend, my beloved future wife,” Those dramatics that come with him make her want to slice him in half, but she keeps on just for Erika. “…How long have we been together, exactly?”

“…Since my headaches started coming daily.” She responds, hearing pattering in the hallway. “Call me when you’re here, okay?”

Once she hangs up, she sees Erika ready for a bath by the kitchen’s door, waving her hands in the air.

“Let’s go!”

Kids are nightmares.

###

Epoch hats don’t fit him well, Yoonoh realizes as he sits on a little stool that barely can hold his weight, knees practically touching his chest as he plays tea-house with Erika and her babysitter. Or well, her mom’s worker that happens not to know how to say no.

Erika had gone over the top to make this a grand event, the Peppa Pig plushie he had brought with him when entering the apartment seated in front of Erika, while he stares ahead at the woman that has his mind a complete mess. She is wearing a pair of wings on her shoulders, and her clothing is different, still not letting him see much, but the baggy t-shirt and sweatpants still fit her nicely.

The roles are simple. Erika is the princess, and they are their Aunt and Uncle. Peppa Pig is her sister, and that’s about as much as he knows as he sips on the two-point-five milliliters of water with lemon that Erika dares call tea.

“More tea, please.” Yoonoh says when placing the small cup down and looking at the woman ahead of him. She is the one serving the tea, yet, she quirks an eyebrow at him.

“That’s your fourth cup.” She explains, shaking her head when he tries to reach for the tea. “You’ve already had enough. You’re doing it just to see me serving you.”

“While the sight is adorable, beautiful, this cup is the size of my pinky. I can’t even feel it going down my throat.” He waves the little cup in his pinky before trying to reach for the tea again. “I’ll serve myself if it makes you feel better.”

“You’re too sweet-mouthed…” She looks over at Erika, inspecting them with interest. “Sugarplum.”

“Sugarplum?” Yoonoh questions the nickname, pouring himself a cup of tea when snatching it from her hands before leaning his weight forward, taking a sip that has him downing the entire drink. “I’m not sweet, don’t know if you’re noticed.”

“Quite clearly.”

“May change my ways for you if you stop judging me.” His eyes trail over her features, the culprit of his playfulness spreading across his face.

“Oh, I happen to be very judgmental.”

“Get to know me,” He waves his finger on top of the cup, tracing the outline only to see her gulp soon after. “…I promise the last thing you’ll end up doing is hating me.”

Erika stands up in between the two, her little hands spreading on their chests when she says: “Princes and princesses don’t fight.”

“We’re not fighting, Eri.” She tells her, though she sends a glare his way. “Right, sugarplum?”

“Of course, beautiful.” He uses that same nickname, relishing on the way she seems to be seething at the name. Truth be told, he knows that she’s, at least, a bit attracted to him…but whatever is stopping her must be strong enough to have her stopping on her tracks that first night. His lips wrap up in a kiss he sends flying in the air before adding: “We actually love each other. My kingdom is now better because I have found my truest love.”

“Yeah…” She trails, looking over to the side before she takes a sip of her own tea. “How’s the collection going?”

That question surprises him. She must have supposed he was a designer, much more after all he did in her hotel, but he didn’t think she was paying attention from up close.

“It’s not a collection.” Sweetly, he corrects, voice lowered when he puts the cup down. “I—I’m only working on this one fit. An outfit. We design lingerie, as you could see. I’m normally in the women design department, but my boss which is an absolute…” He stops, looking at Erika. “Witch, changed me to the men’s department just to freak up my head.”

A small chuckle trips out of her lips at the choices of his cusses. “So, you were designing Jungwoo’s fit?”

“Precisely.” Yoonoh takes his phone out of his pocket before displaying something only for her to see. “Erika, you can’t see this. It’s…it’s not something you should be seeing, okay?”

And actually, she listens. Yoonoh can’t understand why she says that Erika never listens to anybody. Her eyes trail over to Jungwoo, and the way they scan up and down have something within him tugging his phone away.

“That’s my design.”

“You’re talented.” Those words shouldn’t weight as much as they do, but he hasn’t heard them in a while. Perhaps, in two years. “If only you weren’t so much of a butt-face whenever we speak, I’m sure that part of you would show through.”

“What part of me?”

“The part that doesn’t try to hide that you care.”

That’s the moment Yoonoh backs away, because he shouldn’t care. It’s easier to go through life without caring about the people around you. The small stool falls behind him just as he stands up, clearing his throat after a harsh swallow.

“I have to go.”

Erika stands up as well, eyes widened. “Is it because she called you butt-face?”

Yoonoh chuckles, ruffling her hair with one hand. “No, I—I think I left my stove on at home.”

He hears the sound of her picking up her keys, nodding in the process. “I’ll walk you there. Don’t worry. Erika, stay here.”

The hallway that leads to her door is far too cramped for the two of them, his shoulders brushing with hers as they walk alongside each other. The part of you that doesn’t try to hide that you care; it’s not like he cares about her past the normalcy of two people who happen to be attracted towards each other buy deny it—

He turns around, his chest expanding with each breath that she takes, oxygens mingling when he looks down at her features, those lips that he would have kissed if granted the permission, but instead he asks:

“Is that why you hate me?”

She doesn’t listen, a deer caught in the headlights when she questions: “What?”

“Because you think I don’t care. Is that why you hate me?” He questions, only to have her shaking her head. His fingers hook a strand of her hair behind her ear, feeling the heat of her skin, much like that one time he had touched it.

“I don’t hate you.” She confesses, honest and yet surprising, before she breathes out in a shudder. “…Sometimes, it’s better to not wonder, Yoonoh. Not be curious about people like you. Not because you’re bad, but because you’re not right, either.” She shrugs her shoulders. “Stop looking at my lips, it distracts me.”

Yoonoh trails his eyes up before engulfing the words in his plush lips. “And what about you?” He questions. “If I’m all types of wrong, what are you?”

“All the different types of wrong that aren’t yours.” She says, just as his chest brushes with her own again, her stomach extending, back bending, body molding closer to his just because of electricity and gravity, she opens the door, releasing a breath that feels like a million pounds of weight. “Good night, Yoonoh, and thank you.”

He nods, and while he wants to return the words, he can’t.

###  

Four Years Ago.

She never came back.

Sometimes, Yoonoh felt stupid for believing that there was someone in the other side of the computer. That said chatroom that had once started as complete curiousness had now turned into something else, tangible, present in his every day. He was young, his eyes wandered, his mind stopped thinking about the importance of his future and he thought that Dami was it. The woman of his dreams, the picture that he couldn’t take out of his head when he laid still at night and looked at his ceiling.

His friends made fun of him, because this is not the Jung Yoonoh that had gotten secret notes during Valentine’s Day in high school with love confessions and promises of marriage. This was a young man, seated in front of a computer, waiting for an answer. Waiting for the day she returned, after she said that she’d come back. It was only supposed to be a lunch break, but with no contact other than this chatroom, than what they had in social media, how was he supposed to get in touch with her?

JJH1997: Hey, did I do something wrong? (Three weeks ago.)

JJH1997: Hello! How are you doing? Are you okay? (Three weeks ago.)

JJH1997: I bought that one record you told me about. (One day and a half ago.)

JJH1997: [Picture Attached]. (One day and a half ago.)

JJH1997: Are you mad? (Thirteen hours ago.)

JJH1997: I’m sorry if I offended you. (One hour ago.)

The reply he got soon after, as he was studying for one of his finals, had him widening his eyes. She had not answered in weeks, this was the best news he could hear—

DAMISONG96: This is her husband. Who are you? (Just Now).

His hands shook, trying to find the words to say. Husband. All this time, he had been talking about a future with someone with a husband…

DAMISONG96: I’ve just read your messages. Stop talking to my wife, you fucking kid.

[This contact has blocked you].

The worst part was that he could never know if it was a catfish, if the person he talked about was real…or, actually, that he could never apologize, perhaps for ruining a marriage that he never knew of.

Love doesn’t come easy when you don’t know how to trust. 

### 

The reason why he became a lingerie designer instead of any other kind of designer is because of the subtlety. His friends think that it is because of the obvious love Yoonoh has for the human body, but as he sits on the front row of his own show, staring at the Silhouette designs his team had worked on, with harsh white lights matching the upbeat and bass-boosted songs that have models swinging their hips from side to side, he feels proud and more.

Jungwoo is the next one to come, and all signs of his beam is long forgotten as he struts down that runway. At first, he does it simply, how he’s taught, the buttons of his jacket are done, undoing them as he walks to showcase the crop top underneath, only pulling it down and turning around to throw the jacket aside and show the top and the chains, along with Silhouette’s name on the band of his boxers. It’s perhaps something not seen in the streets, but he can imagine celebrities falling in love with the design.

He’s concentrated on the faces of the people ahead of him, cheers resounding around the air as Jungwoo finishes off his catwalk. The invitees seem to be overjoyed, and just when a smile creeps up his features, fixing his stance in his tailored black suit, he feels a hand spreading on his thigh, a chuckle being breath out in his ear.

“You’ve done a great job, Yoonoh.” Siyeon speaks with certainty, and to anyone, they are just two friends congratulating each other. He does great work in feigning a smile when turning to her, but what he says is not so kind.

“Thank you. I’m known for that.”

“I know…if we don’t compare that to your organization problems and your endless witty mouth.” Siyeon starts clapping when another model comes around before a beam appears on her features.

Something doesn’t feel right.

“…And what about it?”

Siyeon’s long silver earrings move when she turns to him, quirking an eyebrow in the process. “Well, you see, Yoonoh, the reason why I wanted you to craft a showstopper and to leave with a bang is because…” The acids in his stomach go up, nervousness creeping up on him, trying to keep the dimples there to no avail. “You’re no longer going to be part of our team. Out of all the designs you’ve done, this is your best, but you proved yourself right a little too late. Sorry.”

She’s not sorry, and he knows this. The smile that he has fought so hard to keep there is no longer of his interest as he stands up, pointing at her while scowling.

“You can’t do that.”

“Yoonoh, you’re making a scene.” She tries to chuckle through her words.

“I’ve been working for this fucking company for two years and I haven’t slacked once.”

“Says you,” Siyeon shrugs. “I’m in charge, Yoonoh, and I saw you’re slacking.”

“Fuck you.”

“Have heard that before.”

The air around him engulfs him in a way that almost makes him feel like he’s trapped. He’s out of the expensive hotel Siyeon had found in seconds, but yet, he feels like he has run a marathon. His eyes concentrate anywhere, hand coming up to his chest, his dream shattered when trying to give this company another chance—

The night whisks him in the face as he runs, not caring to grab a taxi, not minding that he feels like his life is falling down…because this is stupid. Life is so fucking ironic that he hates it. He trusts people? He ends up losing. He doesn’t trust them? They never believe him.

What’s the realest way to get a happy ending? He’ll never know.

### 

Eight hours of sleep feel marvelous once she gets them back.

Not only has she gotten to return her calls, but it doesn’t smell like baby food in her apartment and she gets to take a break from Peppa Pig. Erika had been sad when letting go of her, pressing her face to her stomach in a hug before she was off to holding onto her mother for dear life. Her paycheck came around, life was good, and this night was excellent with the bag of savory chips she had just opened.

The crunch is the only thing that can be heard, mingling with the noise of the romantic movie she is watching, tears wielding her vision and yet, she pushes them away. Tragedies are the best form of romance—when both characters have gone through so much that finding happiness in each other feels a thousand times more personal. Perfect, even. It’s a nice chance for her romantic comedy binge from earlier.

The air is interrupted when she hears someone ringing her doorbell, and that brings a frown to her features. First, she’s not waiting for anybody. Secondly, she had been crying just now. Grabbing a napkin, she taps it against her ears and waltzes over to the door to see who is standing by the door through the peephole.

And if there was a sight that could capture her breath away just as much as it could make her be excited about something, it’s this.

Yoonoh stands outside her door, with the buttons of his shirt half-opened, a peak of his shirt showing, his jacket thrown haphazardly over one forearm, and if only this peephole let her see lower, she would relish on the strength of his thighs. Confusing or not, as well as a bit annoying, one can’t deny that Yoonoh is extremely handsome. Taken out of a magazine, even.

She opens the door softly, unaware of why he is there. Today, the runway for Silhouette should be happening and yet, he’s here, at 10:45 at night, with his hair made a mess and his eyes trailing on her.

“Yoonoh,” He doesn’t stop looking at her eyes, a frown in his features. “Hi…uh…may I help you with something?”

“You’re right.” He starts, entering her house just as she moves to the side. He must be in a rush. The door closes behind her. “I try not to care about things. I don’t take relationships seriously. I’m an asshole at most times. I’m fake and boring and quite clearly, all kinds of wrong.” Well, that is a statement. She knows there is some good for Yoonoh. He’s always one call away, he’s organized, he’s given. He’s strong and rampant and fiery, in that way that have people shuddering in their spots.

“So?”

“So, yes, I’m fucking tired of being that because it doesn’t work.” He stands in front of her now, in that same hallway that had trapped them weeks ago and had managed to make her even more confused. “I just lost my job and I don’t know what the hell I am going to do with my life. I was used and—fuck!”

Her heart weights down when he admits that. “Why would you lose your job? That outfit you designed for Jungwoo is amazing…”

“Because my new boss hates me, just like you do.”

“I said I didn’t hate you.”

“Then why?” Yoonoh questions. “Why did you run away that night? What about me is so repulsive that you can’t even look my way without frowning when all I have been thinking about since that moment I saw you in the restaurant, in nice light, after getting me some clothes, is that you’re the kindest and most humble woman I have ever met and I would do my fucking best to kiss away every fucking insecurity you have about me?”

Silence comes to be awkward around them. Or, well, filled with tension. But this silence is of understanding. Yoonoh’s eyes that night, that had scanned her with such intricacy, had thought about the same things that she did. And yet, she had let it slide—because it’s easier to fear than to try, to run away than to stay.

“Because…you’re difficult, Yoonoh.” She states. “And I don’t mean it in a bad way. I just know…I know I would like you.” That makes her ego blot down the slightest. “And then, when you realize that kissing me is not enough, that waking up to me is not enough, that I won’t give you whatever interesting shit you were doing when I found you outside that house, you’ll leave…and I’m not at an age or time in my life where I want to see you leave without an explanation. I don’t.”

He finally reconnects his gaze with her eyes. “The explanation here is simple,” He conquers. “You’re beautiful. Each part of you I get to see and each part I don’t. Every bit of my imagination can only think about you, so much that everything I design is everything my mind gushes about and can only perceive on you. It’s stupid enough that…” He chuckles at his own antics, leaning his head back on the wall. “That I think about what color fits you best and I am certain it’s not the navy blue you like to use. It’s yellow, because you’re so bright it practically burns my fucking eyes. You’re so smart and given and you don’t even let me tell you that, because you’re always…pushing me away.”

“Yoonoh—” Her heart flutters at his words, but he doesn’t stop talking.

“And you’re your own kind of goddess and it drives me insane, because I was the type of dumbass that didn’t like the chase, but each and every time I hear you speak, I just want to tease you more and…” He stops for a second, finally fixing his position to look at her. “I just wanted you to know, because if I’ll never get a chance, at least I want to say I—”

Silences are what made them. It’s what she likes the most about him, when he’s silent and concentrated, when all his might goes to one thing and one thing only. She doesn’t know what overtakes her at that moment, when her lips clash against his in a dance that it’s much too passionate. She can’t keep up with whatever she wants to do, her hands hooked around his waist to mold him against the wall, his abdomen carved against hers when a groan traps itself on the back of his throat and he grabs the back of her head, taking more of her in, granting himself entrance, rubbing his lips in a tempting touch before he’s diving in for air…and she’s his oxygen.

Yoonoh’s hold is not strong, overly passionate, tumbling. In his own way, Yoonoh is delicate. It’s just when she kisses him that she realizes there is a beautiful thing to Jung Yoonoh. The delicacy he portrays in lingerie, that translate into his utter fears. The pristine glass he is when she caresses his neck with a touch of her mouth and he shudders while grasping the back of her shirt, asking to see her—to be seen.

When heartbreak happens, there is always a dot. That one finalization of a chapter in your heart that aches insufferably. Her dots connected to him, in one way or another, in the moles in his face or the way he begs to connect to her lips again when she pulls away. He’s gravity when she asks to be taken to her room in one simplistic glance and he’s smiling by the time he puts her down on the sheets.

Over all, Yoonoh is a lover of beauty, and maybe, for once in her life, she feels like art, just when he throws her shirt over her head, staring down at small portions of her body being shown before showing that dimple that she had trained herself to hate.

But who is she kidding? She didn’t hate it at all.

“…You were forbidding me of this.” He points at her body, earning laughter from her, ears heated up under his gaze. “And for that, I’ll never forgive you.”

That night, it’s not a promise of love—it’s lust mixed with something else, that fluttering feeling of having a crush, maybe, or the start of something…how he calls it…beautiful.

###

Normally, Yoonoh doesn’t text. He hooks up with someone, leaves it in the air, then moves on to working. Awakening in his lover’s bed, having breakfast with her, arguing in that way that only they know how to do—playfully, of course—and then having to see him himself off just so she can go to work, however, is completely different.

Just as he lays on his bed midway through the day, he looks at her contact. Missing her would be a statement, and it would be absolutely correct. His gut twists, not knowing exactly what to say—new and yet old in this dating thing.

Uh, can he call it that? They haven’t even gotten out on a date.

Yoonoh: We haven’t gotten out on a date.

Yoonoh: Do you want to?

She must be near the phone, because she replies quickly.

Beautiful: If I slept with you, I obviously want to go on a date with you.

Beautiful: Duh.

There is the bite that he likes, enough to bring a smile to his face before he’s biting down on his lip.

Yoonoh: You didn’t sleep with me when I was employed, wearing suits, confident and flirty. Your standards? Very low.

Beautiful: You’re complaining? Because I could not do it again.

Yoonoh: Who said I was complaining? I was trying the whole time and just when I’m a huge loser, I get the girl.

His life seems to be twisted in circles, cycles that he don’t know how to stop, but a text from her gives him hope that he’ll figure it out.

Beautiful: You’re not a loser. I don’t date losers.

Beautiful: Dinner tonight? I brought a sandwich, but that’s bland.

Yoonoh: It’s a date.

A few seconds pass by before he’s typing again.

Yoonoh: Wait, how do you have me saved in your phone?

A screenshot comes soon after, and he doubles over in laughter when he sees ‘Sugarplum (DNI)’.

###

She has forgotten how to say it, and it’s not like it’s another language, but nervousness clads her every pore just as she sits down by a table at Erika’s seventh birthday party.

Five months into this dating thing, and she doesn’t understand most of it. What she knows is that it feels great. Waking up next to Yoonoh—her place or his—, being kissed on the cheeks, on her forehead, only to be ravished by one of those kisses that he only knows how to give. To watch him grow away from his fears and create his own lingerie line, obviously with the support of his model friends that were eager to take pictures with his pieces and make do with what they have.

It’s difficult, but just as Yoonoh lowers Erika after hoisting her up in the air, always charming with her and with anyone, she doesn’t know how to say it. You know, those three words that have captured her ever since Yoonoh smiled at all her baby pictures, or when he spends some extra time in the kitchen making her favorite meal just because he feels like pampering her.

Three words that she has said before, even jokingly, and yet, she’s petrified.

The trees are tall in the backyard of Sachiko’s home, yellows and reds contrasting the feeling in her heart. It’s pure pink, just like the glow on Yoonoh’s cheeks or that set he had once sewed himself just for her, the one that he never gets enough of and still groans at. Childish music and cake should be enough to calm her down, but just as Yoonoh plops himself alongside her, resting his head on his forearm on the picnic table she’s by, all words she had practiced are lost.

How does he have that effect after five months?

“Erika loved the gift.” Even their gifts had been united. From Uncle Prince and Aunt Princess, they had written on the note. A doll that she had been screaming about months ago when they had visited her.

That word, even he is saying it. If Jung Yoonoh is capable of spitting it out, why couldn’t she—?

“You look like you’re sick.”

That makes her sigh. “Thanks. I don’t see you complaining.”

Yoonoh’s smile grows wider at that, rolling a piece of her hair in between his index finger. “I like the sick look.” He replies. “Something about the sight of a girl who wants to throw up on me. So sexy I could take you to a bathroom right now and just—”

“Yoonoh!”

“There it is, not so sick anymore. Now you’re angry.” He has his ways, she has to admit, and even when finds herself laughing when he changes that glimmer of his eyes that always gets him what he wants. “What’s with you?”

She opens her mouth, placing a piece of cake inside of it—just a little bit too big—when she says: “I love you.”

Or whatever can be understood in between a mouthful of cake.

Yoonoh quirks a perfectly styled brow. “You what?”

“I love you.” She utters out, swallowing soon after before giving him a smile. “Okay, alright, I’m done here—”

His hands gravitate to her hips before she could stand up, sitting her down on his thigh and bringing her face to his by her chin before asking, much too close and too softly for her to ever resist him. “You what?” He repeats, much more delicately, and finally, she finds the reason to stop being nervous.

Those brown eyes look from her eyes to her lips, never getting enough of her, never knowing how to battle the thoughts that show on his features. That kind of adoration she has never gotten before, and that is worth trying for.

She hides her face in his neck, breathing in his scent before spitting out: “I love you.”

It brushes against his skin, tickles him in a way that has him tightening his hold before he replies: “Sounds so good when someone means it.” And that confession is only meant for her to be understood, before he’s pressing a kiss to the crown of her head. “I love you, too.”

#jaehyun scenarios #jaehyun #nct scenarios #nct #kpop scenarios #writing #jaehyun fluff #jaehyun angst #jaehyun au #nct fluff #nct angst #nct au

[fruitcoops]

hi <3 i hope you’re well and having a beautiful day so far. i was wondering if you could write a fic about sirius or logan’s brother like relationship to adele - for example, how they would approach her when she’s having a bad day or when she needs advice about something or maybe even after a disagreement with her parents. no worries if you can’t, i just thought it would be a wholesome interaction 💕

Oh, for sure! Katie and Logan get so much attention (for good reason--they're adorable), but I like to think of Sirius and Adele as the blueprint. Hope you enjoy! Combined with asks for Logan and Loops friendship, Papa Dumo (for @ jinxedjaz), Sirius coming back from visiting his parents while living with the Dumais, and Sirius-learning-to-people from this hc list. SW credit goes to @lumosinlove!

I

A little hand tugged on the hem of Dumo’s sweater. “Papa?”

He glanced up from his crossword and smiled, turning to lift Adele into his lap. “Bonjour, mon papillon. Do you want to help me?”

“Is Sirius okay?”

Dumo paused. His first instinct was to lie—how could he even begin to explain the complexity of the situation to a seven-year-old?—but the brightness in Adele’s big eyes told him she already knew the answer. She was a smart kid. She deserved to know at least some of the truth. “He’s having a tough day,” Dumo said quietly as dishes clinked in the other room. No matter what he and Celeste tried, Sirius insisted on washing up. “He’ll be alright.”

A little furrow appeared between Adele’s eyebrows. “Is it because of us? Because he misses his family now?”

“No, sweetheart, not at all. He just…” The words were impossible to find. “He just doesn’t like holidays very much.”

She worried her lower lip for a moment before wiggling free of his arms. “I’m going to make him feel better.”

“Adele—” Dumo made a grab for her, but she had already scampered out of reach and around the corner to the kitchen. In the three days since Sirius had come back from Thanksgiving, he had already reverted back to his shut-down ghost of a self.

“Excuse me, please,” Adele announced. The sink shut off. “Are you sad?”

That’s certainly one way to do it. Dumo craned his neck to watch their reflections in the glass of the back door without revealing his position. Sirius was always more comfortable around the kids than himself and Celeste. “Quoi?” Sirius asked, turning to face her.

“Are you sad? You’ve been frowny.”

Silence fell for a few seconds. “Ouais, a little,” he said at last. “But I’m not sad because of you.”

“That’s good. Papa said so, too. He says you don’t like holidays, but that’s so silly, because we were just talking about Christmas last week.”

“I like some holidays,” Sirius said haltingly. There was a rustling noise; Dumo saw him pick Adele up and settle her on his hip with a thoughtful tilt to his head. “I’m very excited to spend Christmas with you.”

“Pinky swear?”

“Pinky swear.”

“Good. I want you to spend all the holidays with us. Will you be frowny on Christmas, too?”

“I don’t think so.” Dumo could practically hear Sirius’ smile. “See? I’m already better.”

“Will you open presents with me? Marc and Louis always open theirs together, and Mama and Papa, but Katie’s too little to do it with me. I like playing Santa, but it means I hafta go last.”

In the glass, Dumo saw Sirius press a raspberry kiss to her cheek until she burst into giggles; his grin lit up the whole kitchen. “Of course I will.”

II

“You have to smile,” Adele groaned. “You’re scaring off all my customers.”

Sirius raised his eyebrows. “Pardon?”

She turned a big, sunshine grin on him, pressing her fingers into her dimples to exaggerate it. “Big smiles! You like being here! These are the best cookies you’ve ever had! Everyone should try them!”

“They should!” Sirius agreed. “I don’t know why you’re upset!”

She heaved a sigh and clonked her forehead on his stomach, knocking some of the air out of his lungs. “You look scary when you don’t smile.”

“I do not.”

“You do! You’re built like a brick wall and when you’re thinking, you get frowny!” She adjusted her Girl Scout vest and straightened up. “You have to be perky and fun and the cutest little kid on the block.”

“…I might have a problem with the last part.”

“Then I’ll be the cutest little kid on the block,” she said, exasperated.

Sirius narrowed his eyes at her. “Do you think I’m scary?”

“No,” she snorted. “But other people do.”

“No way.”

“Yes, way. Mama looks surprised when her face relaxes, but you’re, like, looming.”

“So…you’re upset with how my face looks?” he teased, dodging her attempt to poke his ribs.

“No, I just don’t need a bodyguard to sell cookies!”

“That’s literally what I’m here for,” he laughed, tugging one of her pigtails until she stuck her tongue out at him. “Alright, madame, I’ll try to be ‘perky’ and ‘fun’.”

“The air quotes weren’t necessary,” she informed him with great gravity, though she couldn’t hide the smile on her face as she turned back to the people walking across the street. “Hey, lady, do you want cookies?”

III

“So,” Logan began, then shoved another handful of pretzel sticks into his mouth. “Dating the captain. What’s that like?”

Sirius looked up from his phone and glared. “I am sitting right next to you.”

“Shush. Loops?”

Remus sighed and let his head fall toward Logan’s armchair; he was starting to get lightheaded from laying upside-down for so long, but it was doing wonders for his lower back and sore feet. “Dating the captain? Pretty cool, to be honest.”

Logan made a noise of disagreement. “I don’t believe that for a second. Does he make you run drills in the basement, or is it just a cuddle party all the time? ‘cause there’s no in-between.”

“Tabarnak,” Sirius muttered, flicking Logan’s ear as he headed out of the room. “You two gossip like middle-schoolers.”

“It’s really not bad,” Remus mused as he stretched one leg toward the curtains. “I’m the one who likes running drills, so he’ll usually watch tape while I do that for a bit. Cuddles aren’t as frequent as you might think. We’re boring.”

“Mmm, with some wild nights in there, eh?” Logan wiggled his eyebrows and Remus chucked a pillow at him, though it did not seem to deter him. “I seem to remember hearing a certain conversation about a new bedframe?”

“A headboard,” Remus corrected, pulling a face at him. “And it was already almost ten years old. You’re just jealous.”

“Ugh, for him? Nah. Peanut might have carried a torch—”

“You’re kidding. Did he really?”

“Oh, yeah,” Logan snorted, as if it was obvious. “But he has better taste now. Honestly, though, I’m glad you two are together. And that you’re happy in your boring domesticity, even if you’re breaking beds left and right.”

“Headboard, and it was one time.”

“Did I ever tell you about—”

The front door slammed open; both of them jumped as something heavy hit the ground with a thud. “Sweetheart?” Celeste asked from the living room, audibly concerned. Remus’ heart dropped and he shared a worried look with Logan, who was already on his feet. “Adele, what’s wrong?”

“Adele?” Logan called, his voice laced with worry. Remus’ heartbeat picked up as Adele appeared in the doorway to the living room with tears streaming down her cheeks, only to throw herself into Logan’s arms with a harsh sob. “Woah, hey, qu’est—”

“Boys are so stupid!” she half-shouted, half-wailed. “And I hate them!”

Remus stood there, useless, as she tore away and sprinted for the backyard, yanking the door shut with a bang before tearing across the grass. “Logan?” he asked after a moment. There was no protocol for this. He had absolutely zero experience with preteen breakdowns, and the Dumais kids always fell into Logan and Sirius’ territory. He could count on one hand the number of actual conversations he had had with Adele.

Logan’s nose twitched; he opened his mouth to speak, but the words died in his throat when Sirius came through the doorway and made a beeline for the yard without a single glance to either of them. “She’ll be okay,” Logan murmured as Sirius walked slowly to the swings, where Adele was sitting on the bench seat with her arms wrapped tight around herself.

“She seems pretty upset.”

Logan shook his head, not taking his eyes off the pair. “I’ve got Katie, he’s got Adele.”

“Yeah?” Remus asked, surprised. Logan and Katie were famous for their bond, two peas in a pod. As far as he knew, Sirius was equally close with all the Dumais kids.

“Apparently, they bonded from day one,” Logan said with the flicker of a smile. Outside, Adele laid her head on Sirius’ shoulder and pulled his arm around her back, burrowing into the softness of his hoodie as he gently rocked the swing with his foot and gave her a light squeeze. “They’re both quieter. Oldest children and all that. You really didn’t know?”

“I…” Remus trailed off and shook his head. “You and Katie are much louder about it, but that makes sense. He talks about all of you all the time., I guess I just assumed it was different since he was so closed off at first.”

Logan hummed. “Ask about it sometime. Dumo always likes talking about them.”

Sirius and Adele walked back after a few more minutes, still attached at the hip as Sirius jostled her lightly and pulled half a smile from her; they entered the house in relative quiet and Adele wrapped her arms around him one more time. “Love you,” she said, voice muffled in his sweater. Sirius rubbed her back in slow circles until she pulled away and padded down the hall to the bathroom

“Children are so mean,” he said as soon as the door closed.

“Then I’m glad she has you.” Remus curled his hand around Sirius’ shoulder and felt him relax beneath his touch. “Is she alright?”

“Some little asshole told her nobody would want to date her because she plays hockey.”

Remus’ heart panged. “How can we help?”

“Teach her how to throw a right hook,” Logan suggested. In a rare turn of events, Remus couldn’t tell whether he was joking or not; from the look on his face, it seemed to be the latter.

“She’ll be okay, baby,��� Remus said. Sirius didn’t look away from the closed door. “Kids have always been mean, but the best thing you can do is be there for her, which you just did. It’s hard and it sucks but as long as she knows you love her, that’s enough.”

“Does she?” Sirius asked, almost too quiet for him to hear.

Remus looped an arm around his waist and kissed the top of his shoulder. “She does,” he promised. Without a doubt.

IV

Sirius drummed his hands on the steering wheel with a wide smile. “I’m so excited,” he said for the fourth time in twenty minutes.

“I can tell,” Remus said, still reading through his missed messages. The cell service in customs had been abysmal, and for some godforsaken reason his dad desperately needed to send paragraph updates on his hunt for the perfect holiday lights. Some days, Remus wondered whether he was happiest with his family or in Home Depot.

“I missed them.”

“Yep.”

“And I can’t let Logan get there first.”

“Sure thing, honey. Speed limit.”

“Three weeks is a long time, did you know that?”

“Mhmm. Sirius, speed limit.”

“How do you manage being away from Jules for that long?”

“Very poorly,” Remus said as he typed out a quick response to his dad’s latest text. His mother would end him if he allowed their house to be decorated with anything green—in all honesty, he was starting to think she had a personal rivalry with the Snakes. They turned onto Dumo’s street and he felt the excitement radiating off Sirius kick up several notches. “Deep breaths, love.”

“Ah, fuck me, the cubs are right behind us,” he muttered, pulling over to the curb and unbuckling his seatbelt.

“Sirius!” Remus spluttered.

“What?”

“Turn the fucking car off before you get out!”

Sirius heaved a sigh and pulled the key out, then took off toward the house at a jog; Logan went sprinting past the passenger window half a second later, and Remus heard Finn shouting after him from the still-running car to no avail. They reached the front steps at the exact same time, shouldering each other in an attempt to reach the doorbell first.

“—want to push it!” Logan insisted, kicking Sirius lightly on the shin as Remus headed up the walkway.

“You did it last time!” Sirius argued.

“I’m the youngest, so I get to do it!”

“That’s not how it works!”

The door swung open just as Logan tried to bodily shove Sirius out of the way, only to be put in a scrambling headlock. Dumo regarded them with an exhausted look on his face. “Bonjour, Loops.”

“Hey, Dumo,” Remus called from the base of the steps. “Nice night, eh?”

He shrugged, ignoring the two grown men roughhousing on his welcome mat. “Not bad.”

“Are les enfants here?” Logan panted, trying to heave Sirius into the nearest hedge.

Dumo rolled his eyes and opened the door the rest of the way. “Kids, we have visitors!”

Thundering footsteps echoed off the walls; Logan and Sirius tripped over each other in their haste to get inside. “Tremzy!” Katie shrieked, launching herself into his arms with a beaming smile.

Sirius hoisted Adele straight off her feet and shook her back and forth as she wrapped her arms around his neck in a tight hug. “You were gone forever!” she laughed. “We missed you!”

“What am I, chopped liver?” Logan teased as he set Katie down and opened his arms for a hug of his own. Marc and Louis slammed into him, nearly toppling him in the entryway.

“No, no, no!” Katie giggled as Sirius blew a raspberry kiss on her stomach, only to mimic it on his cheek a moment later. “You’re all scratchy.”

“Tough for kisses,” Remus agreed. “You should tell him to shave, Katie-bird.”

Katie squished his cheeks in her hands with a solemn frown. “No more porcupines.”

“You got it,” Sirius confirmed. “What do you think, Adele?”

She pulled a face and they all dissolved into laughter, exhausted from the long roadie and unable to contain their happiness. It was a tradition Remus was coming to know as he spent more time with the team—Logan and Sirius just couldn’t resist swinging by the Dumais house after a long trip, no matter how drained and battered they were. It was a combination of a competition and a family reunion, and the kids loved it every time.

“Are you staying the night?” Marc asked, lazily tying Sirius’ shoelaces together.

“Not tonight, no.”

“But it would be fun,” Louis said from his place hoisted under Logan’s arm, legs dangling.

“They’re tired, boys, be nice.” Celeste winked at Sirius as he leaned down so she could kiss his cheek before moving to Logan to do the same. “We watched all your games. You were wonderful.”

“Merci, Celeste.” The corners of Logan’s eyes crinkled, and Remus saw Finn and Leo share a smile behind him.

Sirius craned his neck to look back. “Oh, she wasn’t talking to you.”

Logan stuck his tongue out as the kids laughed, still clinging to them both. Remus happily accepted a quick hug and a hair-ruffle from Celeste before she moved on to Finn and Leo, and settled in for a cozy evening at home.

#sirius black #remus lupin #adele dumais #logan tremblay #pascal dumais #celeste dumais #coops #katie dumais #friendship #siblings #sweater weather #vaincre #lumosinlove #my fic #fanfic

[hlficlibrary]

HL FIC LIBRARY - AUTHOR REC

AO3: dimpled_halo

Tumblr: @comebackassholes

STATS:

📚 Number of fics: 50

📚 Posting since: 2016

TOP 5 FICS:

📚 Strawberries & Cigarettes [E, 76k]

Harry looks up and immediately freezes. Next to Ms. Archie stands the boy from just the other day. The boy with the leather jacket and chipped black nails, that might or might not be sketched in the very book Harry has just placed on the table in front of him. The leather jacket is missing today, probably because they aren’t allowed as part of their required uniform attire, but Harry can still see the fading black nail polish on his nails, and eyeliner around his eyes. Harry’s mouth goes a little dry. This boy is so intriguing to him.

“Ye-yes, Ms. Archie?” Harry tries to play it cool, but he’s almost positive that his cheeks are burning red, and he’s relieved neither of them can tell how fast his heart is beating in his chest.

The boy seems to also recognize Harry, because his lips curve into a knowing smirk.

“Harry is at the top of his class. He’s your best bet at getting familiar with things around here.” She explains.

Louis nods, his smirk still very prominent on his face. “Thank you Ms. Archie. I’ll be sure to take advantage of young Harold here.”

Summary: Two stories, eleven years, and the two boys that never stopped loving each other.

📚 Until I Found You [E, 45k]

Harry Styles is the popstar of the century, or so the media proclaims. He’s linked to every omega he’s seen with, donned as an alpha lothario who isn’t ready to settle down any time soon. His team works hard to publicise him as an alpha who can’t keep his knot in his pants, but not everything is as it seems.

Louis Tomlinson, an aspiring musician working as a porn star and camboy, is waiting for his big break. When he meets Harry Styles he can’t stand the alpha that only uses his power and fame to bed as many omegas as possible. He runs into him at a party and hopes to never see him again only to find that Harry’s assistant is dating Louis’ best friend. To make matters worse, Harry’s about to embark on a world tour and is in need of a guitarist at the last minute, an opportunity Zayn uses to put in a good word for Louis.

What happens when the opportunity that Louis has been waiting for finally comes, but at the price of having to share the stage with one Harry Styles?

📚 No One Else Will Do (Co-write with Awriterwrites) [M, 13k]

Harry visibly takes a deep breath. “I’ll do it. I’ll...help you through your heat.” He looks more determined now as he stands up straighter and his eyes look at Louis more intensely.

“Yeah?” Louis doesn’t mean to sound so surprised but he’s sort of in a state of shock. He’s never been with an alpha before, and the fact that his first time is going to be with Harry— his best friend— well, he couldn’t really ask for anyone better if he’s honest.

 It takes Louis' early heat for Harry and Louis to figure things out.

📚 Crave [E, 90k]

“Hello, I’m Louis Tomlinson, it’s nice to meet you.” There’s a little bit of shakiness to his voice, but Louis is still proud he didn’t lose his cool right then and there.

The other man grins, his dimple poking out in the most beautiful way, stretching his own hand out to shake Louis’. It’s warm and inviting, just like Louis remembers the rest of his body being. Louis swallows hard.

“I’m Harry Styles. Nice to meet you too, Mr. Tomlinson.” And God. That voice. That deep, deep voice. Louis has to close his eyes for a second before his dick gets hard right in the middle of the conference room. The way Harry says Louis’ name, sort of teasing, like he knows exactly what he’s doing makes Louis want to put him over his lap and give him a good spanking for behaving that way.

All eyes are on Louis Tomlinson to bring new talent to save Hanover Records from the mess the previous executive left behind. His newest artist, Harry Styles, is charismatic and everything Louis needs to revive the label. It’s up to Louis and his team to make Harry the star he was born to be. When Harry and Louis come face to face, it isn’t the first time they’ve met, and their worlds are about to be turned upside down.

📚 Never Too Late [M, 18k]

Harry’s confused for a moment before it hits him: the little boy is signing. Harry squats down to get to the boy’s level again and mirrors the same action.

“Dad?” He inquires. Harry learned basic sign language after having met a fan who was deaf. He made it his mission to learn signing so that he’d be able to communicate with other fellow hearing impaired fans.

The little boy smiles brightly, his tears now long gone. He goes on to extend both hands, palms up as if he’s asking where? Followed by the previous sign which means Dad. Harry smiles to himself at the amazing little guy standing in front of him.

He stands up taking the boy’s hand, “Let’s go find your dad,” he tells him making the motion with his hand.

Just having come out of the closet and recovering from vocal surgery, famous recording artist Harry Styles needs to get away from LA to work on new music needing to prove to his label that his career isn't over. Little does he know that his life is about to change forever when he runs into an old friend at the city he's decided to escape to.

UNDERAPPRECIATED GEM:

📚 I Like It Better When It Hurts [E, 6k]

Dear Mr. Louis, Hello. I’m Harry. I got your contact from a good friend of mine and was wondering if I can get your services. My 30th birthday is coming up and all I’ve ever wanted is to get spanked, maybe more? If you’re interested, please contact me. I’d love to hear from you. Sincerely, Harry Marcel reads over the words. He guesses there isn’t a much better way to ask for what he needs. He almost changes the name again but decides Harry is fine. It’s generic and nothing that can be traced to him. At least he doesn’t think so. Okay, he’s overthinking again so he clicks the send button before he can talk himself out of it. His heart races as soon as he does. He almost wants to take it back, figure out a way to undo it, but he takes a big gulp of his wine to calm down. It’s fine. This is fine. He can do this.

#ficrec #authorrec #dimpledhalo #comebackassholes #hlcreators #hljournal #hlsource #1dficvillage #1dsource #trackinghome #tracksintheam #trackinghappily

[londonfoginacup]

H16 (are you still doing this?)

ding ding ding ding! One of my top two favorite tags!!!!!!!

Big White Lie | acrayonsmile Harry/Louis/Niall/Liam/Zayn | 263k

You’re not running on three hours of sleep. You don’t have a headache. You’re not an omega. You’re Louis Tomlinson: Beta. Louis has been pretending to be something he's not for as long as he can remember. Will the pack find out before it's too late to fix him?

Shadows Come With The Pain That You're Running From (Love Was Something You've Never Heard Enough) | hlftanna Harry/Louis Niall/Liam | 51k

“Thanks, Ni, I guess I needed to hear that,” Harry sighed and wrapped his own arms around Niall and squeezed him tightly not caring if Liam would be mad. He missed Niall so much. “Does it really come as a surprise to you that I’m right? Shaking my head, Haz. You should know me better,” the brunette teased. Harry giggled again. “You know Hazza, you really are so different to all the other alphas out there. You’re soft, caring, cuddly and sweet and those damn dimples. So freaking pretty, it’s almost annoying. I would hate you if you weren’t my best friend. You’d really be a brilliant omega. Nature really did a number here,” Niall mumbled. It was his turn to smash his nose into Harry’s neck and Harry was extremely thankful for that because he wasn’t sure he had his facial expression in check at all. Or a Band AU in which Harry isn't allowed to be who he really is and the North American Tour might bring some unexpected truths into the web of lies and also a bit of heat that has very little to do with the summer in the US.

Falling into your gravity | larriebane Harry/Louis Zayn/Liam | 28k

The Doncaster tribe has suffered from the increasing attacks of the rogue werewolves for months now and finally their pleas have been answered. The Government has sent them enforcements in the form of a family of high standing, the Styles, whose babelicious son turns a certain omega’s world upside down. Poor Louis is just trying to get people believe he’s a beta as his family’s life depends on it. ‘I’m not gonna let some hot, spoiled rich brat ruin my life. No matter how cute his dimples are.’

My Star in the Sky | angelichl Harry/Louis | 23k

Louis and Harry have been best friends since they were kids, despite the fact that society and biology say they should be something more. Everything changes when Louis mistakenly returns to their flat during Harry's rut.

Like a Timebomb Ticking in Your Head | decorationxx (Mitzsie) Harry/Louis Niall/Zayn/Liam | 26k

Louis was sure that Harry would present as an alpha when the time came. Sure that they would be together one way or another. In fact, he was so sure that he staked his entire career on it. Yeah, that was a mistake. -- Or, the one where Louis makes a deal with management. He can tell the world he's actually an omega under two conditions. (1) Harry presents as an alpha (done!), and (2) Harry wants him as a mate (oops).

Running | creamcoffeelou Harry/Louis Zayn/Liam | 28k

Louis was never ashamed of who he was - never had been never would be. But he never really was himself.

Mystery Fic Rec Game

#BIG WHITE LIE IS MY FAVORITE FIC OF ALL TIME AND I CANT CONVINCE ANY OF MY FRIENDS TO READ IT #YES THE TAGS ARE SCARY BUT ITS GOOD IF YOU CAN GET PAST THOSE I SWEAR #I REREAD IT CONSTANTLY #mystery fic rec

[tommodirection]

Little Sister

Harry Styles x Tomlinson! Reader

Word Count: 3.3k

Warnings: swearing, playful mentions of Larry

Masterlist

A/N: Heylo! I hope you enjoy this! I’ve been working on this for about a month now, never being able to finish it, but I decided to sit down and finish it tonight instead of wallowing in self-pity! The Larry mention at the end is meant to be funny and playful, not something to take seriously! Thank you and have a nice day! ❤️💕🥰

—

When your brother went to audition for the X-Factor in 2010, you expected him to come home after, maybe with a signed record deal, maybe not, but home nonetheless.

Instead, he was put into a boy band with four other boys, and moved out. Your mother was proud, of course as anyone would be, but that also meant her oldest child had left the nest.

That left you, now the oldest in the house, and your four younger sisters. Your mum was handling it the best she could, but with Mark out of the house constantly, it got stressful for her.

You didn’t like Mark that much, sure, he was nice, and he treated your mother alright, he just didn’t seem like a commitment kind of guy to you.

You were adopted shortly after your mum left Louis’s father. Mark was accepting of the fact that she already had two kids, but became a bit offended when she took your side in an argument instead of one of their kids.

You loved all your siblings equally, well, Louis a bit more than the other girls, but you still loved them no matter how their father acted.

When Louis left, you were left to help your mother with the other girls, Mark not being much help. You were often left to help them get ready for school, get ready for bed, and you even had to run errands for your mother.

Since you were only 16, and hadn’t gotten a driver’s license, you had to walk almost everywhere, but you didn’t mind, not when you were helping your mother.

Having a brother who had recently become a famous member of a boy band, also meant you had to watch all the girls at your school drool over him. This also meant that a lot more people were trying to be friendly to you.

Most of the girls at your school loved Louis, probably because they thought they had the best chance with him, not that they had any chance.

However, you preferred Harry. You always had a soft spot for sweet boys with curly hair, but this time felt different. It probably was just a silly little crush, you’d obsess for a few weeks and then get over it.

You were so, so wrong.

You watched your brother and his mates smash their way through the charts for the next two years, becoming the best boy band of the generation.

The whole family was immensely proud of him, even Mark. You were particularly proud of Harry, though the rest of your family didn’t really care.

The small crush hadn’t faded, instead it had grown in the past two years, each time you saw him on a photo your brother sent, or on TV, you flushed and your heart started racing.

He was just perfect. Perfect hair, perfect eyes, perfect dimples, perfect smile, perfect lips, perfect everything.

It honestly kind of upset you sometimes.

There you were, the sister of one of his best mates, same age as him too, and yet you had never met him.

That all changed when the band went to Madison Square Garden at the end of the year.

Since you were eighteen and finished with college, you were allowed to go with your mother to go see Louis perform.

As you and your mother approached the stadium, you felt a wave of awe wash over you. Your brother’s face was on the fucking front of Madison Square Garden. He was getting paid to be here.

Where the fuck did you go wrong?

The driver that Louis had hired pulled up in the front, allowing you both to get out along with Liam’s mum, Karen, who was a lovely lady.

You all climbed out of the car onto the busy New York City street, people busling past your trio to file into the large arena.

Your mother grabbed your hand and Karen’s as well, pulling you both into line.

Meanwhile, the boys were sitting in front of the camera, discussing their feelings about the upcoming show. Zayn and Liam were currently in the dressing room, and Niall was finishing his dinner, so Louis and Harry were left to be interviewed.

“You know, this is a big show for us, obviously,” Harry said, trying not to be gesticulative as he spoke, nerves buzzing through his body.

“Yeah, of course it’s big cos it’s MSG, but this is also the only one that all of us have at least one family member in the audience. Liam, Niall, and Zayn have their mums, Harry has his mum and stepdad, and my mum and sister are coming, which is of course rattling, you want them to be proud of you,” Louis said, leaning back on the couch.

Harry paused for a moment, “Wait, which sister?”

“Y/N, she’s finished with school, so mum let her come down, she’s ecstatic,” Louis smiled and Harry nodded, trying to keep a straight face for the camera.

He had never met you, he’s only heard stories from Louis, and seen pictures that his mum always sent him of all the girls.

He thought you were adorable, who wouldn’t? He wouldn’t call it a crush, he hadn’t even met you. However, there was definitely something about you that drew him near you.

Once you had gotten inside, Karen insisted on going to buy something. The concert was starting in a few minutes, so there weren’t many people at the tables, most already in their seats.

She was beaming, looking at all of the stuff with her son’s face on it, your mother bearing a similar smile. Karen spotted the cardboard cutouts of the boys. And her eyes lit up.

She rushed to buy one, your mother chuckling, but you could tell she was contemplating on buying one herself.

The pair began to walk away, the camera crew following them, but you stayed behind, stepping up to the cashier.

Your mother must’ve noticed you weren’t there, as seconds later she was at your side, rubbing your arm lightly.

“Whatcha buying?” She asked, humming as she moved her hand to your upper back.

You felt yourself flush as you ordered the Harry cutout. Your mother was laughing her arse off, clutching her stomach as she doubled over.

You felt embarrassed, but understood her reaction. Karen turned around to see the commotion and saw the cashier handing you the Harry cutout. She gave a light chuckle and waved you both over.

Your mother pretended to wipe a tear from her cheek, smirking at you, “Aw, my baby’s in love!” She teased and you bit your lip.

“Shut up,” you mumbled weakly.

The camera crew saw the interaction, getting the whole thing on tape. As you passed the camera, you gave it a small, awkward smile, stuffing the Harry under your arm.

The show was amazing, you didn’t expect any less.

The boys were energetic, entertaining the audience as they jumped and ran around the stage, clearly enjoying themselves.

You were placed in the front, along with the other mothers and Robin, Harry’s step-father. During Louis’ solos, you and your mother would cheer the loudest, the others doing the same for their respective child.

Each boy came to wave to all of you, grinning as they sang. Louis just made a funny face at you and your mother, almost missing his cue.

The other boys did similar things, running to wave while they were singing, but Harry hadn’t come over yet, something that was clearly disturbing Anne.

During a brief break in between songs, Harry came to sit on the edge of the stage in front of all of you. The fans surrounding you all were screaming, some laughing when he gave a bashful wave.

He brought the microphone to his mouth, interrupting Liam’s monologue.

“That’s my mummy!” He pointed to Anne, making her giggle as he bounced up and down where he sat. “Hi mummy!” He yelled, giving an over enthusiastic wave, the audience loving every second.

A grin spread across your face, watching the interaction warmed your heart. Anne was loving it, she blew Harry a kiss, and he caught it, pressing it to kiss cheek.

“I love you mum,” he said, seriously. The audience and all the boys on stage letting out a sweet ‘aw’.

“I love you, Hazza!” Anne tried to yell above the audience, her voice being drowned out, but Harry understood her perfectly.

He turned his attention to the rest of you, “Hi everyone!” He waved again, his grin still just as wide. His eyes scanned over each of you, and his met yours. “Y/N? You’re Lou’s sister, right?” He asked and you nodded, trying to ignore your mum poking your arm. “Damn!” He yelled and you felt yourself gaping, Louis standing up quickly.

“Excuse me?” He asked, in mock offense.

Harry realized his mistake, “No, no, no! That came out wrong,” he turned to you, “I didn’t mean any disrespect, I just mean that I imagined you being like,” he held up his hand a few feet off the ground, “this tall based on how Lou described you, and that is certainly not the case,” he affirmed and Louis playfully rolled his eyes.

“Sure,” he dragged it out, “I’m sure that’s what you meant,” he joked, and Harry stood, brushing off his bum.

“Anyways! On with the show!”

—

A few months later, the boys sat huddled around a table in the film director’s conference room.

The film was finally completed, and the boys were invited to watch it and suggest changes. The boys were a bit into the film now, mostly taking the piss out of it and teasing each other.

Then came the footage from Madison Square Garden.

The boys stayed silent the whole time that the mothers were speaking, being quiet for the first time since the film started.

After showing the mothers’ thoughts on them performing at MSG, it cut to the interviews backstage. It was mostly just the boys’ preparation. Harry and Louis’ interview showed up, and the teasing started right up again.

“Louis, did you see the way his face lit up when you mentioned Y/N?” Liam said through laughter, Zayn and Niall laughing with him.

Harry was glaring at the boys, trying to avoid looking at Louis, a furious blush coating his cheeks. Louis was trying to hide his smile, looking at Harry out of the corner of his eye.

Truth was, he didn’t mind at all. Sure, it was a little weird, but he knew Harry, and Louis knew about your little crush on him, your mum had told him about it and had even sent pictures of the Harry cutout, now set up in your room. He would rather you date Harry than some random kid from Doncaster. You and Harry would work well together, he may even dare to say you were perfect for each other. There was only one problem; you hadn’t met.

The boys had finally calmed down and the rest of the film continued. While Liam and Niall were talking about the time they had to be smuggled through a bread van, Louis took his chance. He leaned over, catching Harry’s attention, “Don’t listen to them, if I’m being honest with you, I wouldn’t mind if you dated my sister,” he whispered, Harry immediately getting flustered.

“I, what? I don’t know what you’re talking about, you’re mad,” Harry mumbled and Louis chuckled, patting Harry’s knee.

“It’s alright lad, no need to explain yourself.”

The topic wasn’t brought up again until the movie came out.

Well, it technically hadn’t come out yet. Each boy was allowed to stream it at their home, they were sent digital copies. Louis had invited you over to watch it a week before it officially came out, and of course you had said yes.

You decided to spend the week with him, needing a break from managing the house with your mother. You had felt guilty, seeing as it was now her alone, Mark had left early on in your brother’s departure. Although, Dan, her new fiancé, was there to help out a bit.

You pulled up outside his apartment building, parking and grabbing your bag from the passenger’s seat. You made your way into the apartment, keeping your head down as you knocked on the door.

Louis opened it, throwing his arms open with a large grin on his face. You set your bag down, giggling as you wrapped your arms around him, squeezing him tightly.

“I missed you,” you mumbled into his chest.

“I missed you too,” he said, swaying with you in the doorway for a moment. He pulled away, a shit-eating grin on his face. “I hope you don’t mind, but I invited someone else over too!”

“I don’t mind,” you said, squinting at your brother, why was he being so cheeky about it?

“Great! Alright, come on in! Harry’s on the couch, and before we watch the film, we’re gonna watch interviews!” He ushered you inside, grabbing your bag.

You stopped once you had entered the house, turning back to Louis, “Hold, go back there for a second, did you say Harry’s here?” You asked, quickly panicking.

You were answered by a voice behind you, “Louis, is your guest…” Harry trailed off as you turned around. He gaped for a moment, clearing his throat quickly, “Oh, uhm, hi Y/N, Louis didn’t say you were coming,” his eyes left you to quickly glance at Louis.

“Hi,” you mumbled, biting the inside of your cheek.

It was quiet for a few moments, and Louis interjected, “Ready to watch the interviews?” He asked, not even waiting for an answer as he dragged both of you to the living room.

He sat down on the couch, pulling you and Harry on either side of him. “They sent me a weird version they made that has the interviews first, and the movie immediately after,” he leaned over and picked up a napkin he had set on the table.

On it were two times stamps, one that was pretty early on, and one that was presumably later in the film. He scrolled on the TV for a moment, getting the setting right and pressing start once the DVD was processed.

He began to fast forward through most of the interviews, you were a bit confused when he came to a stop in the middle of the interviews. You were about to say something, but he turned the volume all the way up, pressing play.

“If you had to set up your sister with one of the band, and you could trust them, who would it be?” The interviewer asked, leaning forwards as she spoke.

Liam and Zayn erupted, “None, none of them!” They both chided, clear looks of disgust on their face.

Louis sat contemplating for a moment, both Liam and Zayn looking at him with knowing smiles, “I have an ideal pair in mind, I’m not going to verify who, the lads already know who it is, my sister doesn’t, but I’ve got a plan,” he smirked, nodding enthusiastically.

The Louis next to you looked at his napkin again, fast forwarding it again, this time you were sat for a little bit longer, the tension in the room growing thicker. Both you and Harry had a feeling that he was talking about you guys, but neither of you dared say anything.

He unpaused it again, this time it was the actual film, iit showed you and your mum, along with Karen, it was the MSG footage.

You began panicking, trying to grab the remote from Louis, “Louis, Louis, turn it off, turn it off!” You yelled as you tackled him, reaching for the remote he was holding high.

He ducked to his side, quickly stuffing the remote down his trousers as the film continued playing. He gave you a triumphant smirk, but you narrowed your eyes, “don’t think I won’t look in there,” you threatened, and he shot up, running to the washroom, giggling the whole way.

You let out a grunt of defeat, collapsing on the couch and shrinking in on yourself, hiding your face in your hands. “Oh god, ‘m so so sorry Harry,” you grumbled, sinking further into the couch.

Harry let out a low chuckle, “It’s alright, love. I’ve already seen the movie,” he admitted and you let out an exasperated sigh.

“Shit,” you mumbled.

“Hey, nothing to be embarrassed about,” he assured, you felt him put his hand on your knee, making you flush even further. “In fact, if the roles were reversed, I probably would’ve bought a cutout of you too,” he began rubbing a small circle on your knee.

You removed your hands from your face at his confession, looking at him in confusion, “Wait, really?”

“Of course! When we first got together as a band, you called Louis, and he stepped outside for a minute to talk to you, when he got back, he had the biggest smile on his face. At first we thought that it was a girl he’d been talking to, but then he told us it was his sister, and I just had to know more about the girl who made him smile that big. He began talking about you, and about your other family of course, but I couldn’t stop thinking about how he described you, then he showed me pictures, and you just blew me away, as cheeky as it sounds,” he laughed lightly, your eyes traced his profile, “then I saw you at MSG, and I was even more shocked, you were much more mature than the last picture Louis had showed us. I couldn’t stop thinking about the girl who smiled brighter than sun, the one who loved her family more than anything, the one who could make anyone laugh just by speaking, and I hadn’t even met you! But now I’ve actually met you, and even seeing you wrestled with Louis earlier, it confirmed everything I already thought.” He paused, his eyes opening quickly, “I-Uhm, if you don’t like any of that, you can just ignore all of it.”

You sat in disbelief, joy overwhelming you, “Wait, so you like me?”

“I mean, yeah, if that whole speech wasn’t convincing enough, I can show you my diary,” he offered, and you put a finger to his lips.

“As tempting as that is, I really want to kiss you right now, is that alright?” You asked, scooting closer to him on the couch.

“Yeah, that would be amazing,” he giggled, placing his hand on your cheek as your lips met.

It was awkward at first, you were both angled on the couch, neither position comfortable. You shifted closer, slowly crawling onto his lap, quickly pulling away to make sure it was okay with him. When he gave you a subtle nod, you connected your lips again, his sweet, oddly sugary, plush lips. You ran your fingers through his curls, quickly tangling them. He put his hands on your waist, pulling you closer to him as you continued to kiss. It was heavenly, everything you had ever dreamed of. Of course, your paradise had to be interrupted by something.

“Oi Oi!” Louis yelled from the hallway, “I get you like each other and all, but this is my couch, come on lads!” He complained, causing you to hurry off of Harry’s lap, taking a seat beside him. He playfully scoffed, pointing a finger at you, “Now, I’m going to get some food from the kitchen, no snogging while I’m gone!” He demanded as he walked out of the room.

You and Harry giggle to yourself, he turned to you, a playful smile adorning his face, “y’know, now that I’m dating a Tomlinson, maybe the Larries will finally back off,” he joked, earning a chuckle from you.

“Oh darling, you’re forgetting one thing,” you chided, he turned to you, obviously confused. “I’m the biggest Larrie of them all,” you teased.

“Oh shut it!” Both he and Louis yelled.

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