#to break of art block and to finally draw with passion ;_; | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

pyeonghongrie · 7 months

Text

High Infidelity

Summary: The novel you've been writing has been in progress for the better half of two years now, your writer's block beating you up, and your husband hasn't shown you any sympathy. Maybe a visit to the art exhibit from this new artist would jog your creativity, but what happens when this new artist offers you more than just relief from your writer's block?

Characters/Pairing(s): Artist!Aged-Up!Hongjoong x Writer!Aged-Up!Fem!Reader

Genre: Smut, Angst, Fluff

AUs/Trope info: Non-Idol!AU, Aged-Up!AU, Right Person Too Late

Word Count: 3247

Warnings: Infidelity, very inappropriate conversations with a married woman, tipsy sex (not drunk), vaginal sex, unprotected sex, creampie, nipple stimulation, afab!reader

Rating: 18+

A/N: I'll be using the name "Haru" for Y/N's Husband because my friends don't want me to write a different ATEEZ member getting cheated on, so my friend @/stardragongalaxy volunteered as tribute 😂

"I'm right here, honey, I love you." He whispers into your skin, slowly unbuttoning your shirt, one button at a time. He kisses your skin every time new skin is revealed to both of you, he kisses your skin so delicately as if you'd break at the slightest touch-

"Y/N, you still haven't dealt with the dishes yet." Your husband, Haru, said monotonously just as you were starting to gain momentum in your writing.

You groan, the interruption making you lose focus and motivation to write. You stare at the last word on your document, gaze burning into each individual pixel as if hoping that this piece would write itself.

Unfortunately, life said "Fuck you."

With another groan, you rub and pinch the bridge of your nose, a headache starting to settle in as your Husband returned to working as if he didn't just cause you a grave inconvenience.

Standing from your comfortable computer chair, you take calm and even strides towards your kitchen, where only a handful of dishes were left in the sink.

And this little shit didn't even bother washing like, what? 8 dishes? he has to be kidding me, men.

You thought to yourself, your inner monologue only making yourself more irritated. But you wash them in silence, thinking of ways to at least calm down and clear your head so you have a clean slate to work with to get inspired again.

I think I should visit the gallery again, there's this new artist that I've been following, he's getting pretty popular, maybe I could draw inspiration from his work?

You think maybe this is the best idea you've had since you but bacon bits on mac & cheese.

Taking the time to visit this gorgeous gallery was definitely the correct move.

Kim Hongjoong is a passionate man, you can see the dedication to his craft in all the pieces in this gallery. He was a mixed media artist, sometimes his work was pops of color on a canvas, others are sculptures made of clay, made with the most delicate of hands, others are more niche, like the stained glass piece in another part of the gallery.

One thing about Hongjoong's work is that his subjects are also subjects of passion.

Paintings of a man's devotion to worshiping his lover's skin, a stained glass recreation of The Birth of Venus by Botticelli, and his latest masterpiece,

Simply titled "Passion", a sculpture of a woman in the throws of pleasure, with her lover holding her close to him, no gap between their skin, eternally locked in a passionate embrace.

As a romance writer, this is exactly what you needed.

You take in this sculpture, the light of the gallery display emphasizing the delicate attention to detail this piece had, you know the man who made this takes pride in this, his work, skills, and dedication finally being realized.

You stare in awe at this piece for a little over 20 minutes, the more you look at it, the more entranced you become of the mastery of this craft.

You feel a presence beside you, a man around 5'9", slightly muscular build, in a turtleneck with glasses sitting delicately on his nose. He has peculiar split-dyed hair, and the most gorgeous face you've ever laid your eyes on.

"I see you like this piece in particular," He started, hands in his trouser pockets while smiling fondly at the piece, "'Passion' was a difficult piece for me to finish, ironically enough, I got bored of it quite easily." He continues, turning to face you.

"I'm Hongjoong, by the way, Kim Hongjoong. If you haven't already figured it out." He takes a hand out of his pocket, extending it towards you.

"Oh, I'm Y/N, Park Y/N. It's a pleasure to meet you, Hongjoong. Your exhibit is astounding, I love your dedication to your work." You take his hand to shake it,

He chuckles at the compliment, "Oh please, save your praise, I know that name from anywhere. I love your latest work, that book was what inspired this entire collection to begin with."

You gawk at him, oh my god, he reads smut. My smut.

"Oh my, what an honor! I'm glad you also enjoy my work." You receive the compliment gracefully, " Although, I do want to hear more about why you got bored of this piece in particular, such a wonder to the arts community, surely you aren't downplaying your own work?"

He smiles, perfect teeth on display, you swear you never looked at a man like this in your life, you were absolutely down bad for his teeth.

"I'm not saying I think it's bad, I just got bored of the creative process." He explains, "although, I do want to continue adding to this collection, perhaps we can go and get drinks together? Exchange ideas?" he offers.

You ponder on this for a bit, going out to drinks with a budding friend wouldn't hurt, right?

"Could I give you my number? Let's set aside a day to chat. I have to get home to my husband before it gets too late."

A smirk came into his face, something dark about a seemingly insignificant change in his expression, “Of course, I look forward to our time together.”

The mug in your hands was warming your palms, and your focus was fixated on the man in front of you, he talked about another piece of his, titled “Longing”; it was heavily inspired by his desire to find someone who shares the same passion as him, the longing to hold someone in a way that nobody else could, intimacy in it’s purest form.

“It sounds a bit pathetic, I’m known for my work in the art of passion and, to put it simply, sex; but I haven’t been able to find the company of a lover myself. Perhaps that’s just the consequence of being a hopeless romantic, then again, you wouldn’t know the feeling of being lonely in romantics, I assume.” He said calmly, a small giggle ending his tangent.

“Oh I wouldn’t say that,” You look into the mug in your hands, your reflection swirling in the tea, your face looks back at you, eyes sunken in and sad, “To put it nicely… my husband robs me of solitude, but fails to offer me company.” You shouldn’t be talking about Haru like this, Your husband works many hours, tirelessly providing you with the house and connections for you to pursue a career in writing. But that wasn’t the reason why your anxiety was swirling in your stomach.

Looking back up at Hongjoong, the same dark expression sits on his face, a minuscule smirk, barely there even if you squint, “Well, we’re friends now, aren’t we? I could keep you company.”

That. That was a quality of him that you noticed fairly early on, you can never read his true intentions, suggestive prose with just enough deniability to gracefully reject him without the conversation becoming inappropriate.

But your anxiety wasn’t caused by that, no, it was caused by the fact that you didn’t want to reject him.

“I’d like that, Maybe we could head to a bar and get drinks there too? My husband won’t be back for a few months because of a business trip. I could use the company.” You say, looking at him through your lashes, he knows his effect on you, and the mental gymnastics that both of you play over the table was just appropriate enough that to anyone listening, it’s just two friends agreeing to get drinks later in the day.

But to both of you, well, only the two of you know what’ll happen once the sun goes down.

A few drinks in and you’re already tipsy, “You know- hic- my husband is being a dick to me.” You drunkenly slurred, “This novel I’ve been writing for over two years now is fucking me in the ass- I- I want to finish it so desperately but all he does is sucks the soul out of me. He’s a giant pain in the ass-!”

Hongjoong giggles at this, loudly talking over the music of the bar, “Your husband is a dick! Your work is amazing, If I were him, I would do anything to help you get rid of that writer’s block, you know, give you inspiration.” tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear.

“You’d do that?” You ask, clinging onto his arm, “Thank youuuu Joongie bug~ you’re the best-!” You giggle into his arm, your weight pressing against his side, you’ve only known him for three months at this point, but his ideas and influence on your work improved your writing and motivation drastically.

“Joongie bug? That’s new, you’ve only known me for- what? 3 months? You’re already calling me nicknames!” He holds the back of your head gently, pressing his forehead onto yours, “I should give you a nickname too… Starlight, how does that sound?” At this point, you tune out every other sound other than the sound of his voice and the pounding of your heart.

This man had you in a chokehold the moment you met him, you were fucking doomed from the start.

“Starlight? Yeah, I like it more than a little bit.” You say softly, your words almost getting lost in the noise of the bar.

“Let’s move to somewhere quieter, yeah? Tell me more about your work, we can head to my place to settle down for a bit.” There it is, the same dark, barely there smirk that plagues your stomach with butterflies.

“Yeah, I’d like that.”

Arriving at Hongjoong’s place, you take a quick look around his apartment, everywhere you look is a pop of color, bold splotches of vibrant hues made the place look like it was pulled straight out of the 80s, “Joongie, your place is amazing, the furniture brings me so much joy~” You giggle a bit, sitting down at the plush red velvet couch shaped like a seashell.

“Thanks! Most of the furniture is thrifted from retro thrift stores, I like this style more. It brings so much personality to the space.” He gleefully talks about them, “Do you want anything to drink? I have water, juice, and beer here.” He says, rummaging through his fridge.

“Oh, just water, please.” You say, you have a feeling that you needed to at least sober up for whatever the night brings.

He takes two glasses of water and places them down on the coffee table, It’s the only piece in the entire house that is a neutral color, a fine hardwood. You couldn’t tell what it was at a glance, not that it was important anyway.

“So, let’s talk about this book that you’ve been struggling to write now. Could you tell me what it’s about?” He asks, taking a swig of his water, you stare at his side profile while he does, sharp yet delicate features, his Adam’s apple bobbing from his drink.

Bro’s so majestic.

“Well, it’s about an artist who’s losing passion for his work, told from the perspective of his lover. It’s a spicy romance, with, in my opinion, a correct amount of sex scenes-”

“Give me a percentage of how much of it is smut.” Hongjoong Interrupts you,

“Like… 75 percent?” He snorts at this, “Anyway, I’ve been stuck on the last spicy scene of the book, the climax, pun not intended,” You take a swig of your water, “I mean, it’s not like I don’t have experience writing that sort of thing, or lack experience in sex either, but my sex life’s been such a drag with my husband being gone for long periods of time and-”

Hongjoong interrupts you again, “And he doesn’t fuck you right, does he?”

The forwardness of his words made you freeze, you contemplated whether to reject him here, to tell him it wasn’t appropriate to talk about this with you, especially about your husband. You know how Hongjoong looks at you, It wasn’t a secret to anyone that he wants you, but he never acts in any way that is appropriate, he never makes you uncomfortable.

This was no exception, the swirling in your stomach wasn’t because of unease, no, this was because of arousal.

“No, no he doesn’t.”

It wasn’t supposed to be like this.

This, being half-naked on Hongjoong’s bed, who, need I remind you, was not your husband.

His hands roamed your sides, the heat from his palms warming your skin, causing it to flush, his soft, plump lips pressing feather-light kisses to your neck, You could feel his breath behind your ear, his hair tickling your cheek.

“How would your husband feel if he knew what you were doing with me right now?” He asks, clearly getting off of the fact that you were in his bed, getting ready to fuck him, a man who wasn’t your husband.

“I hope he’d be disappointed, but at this point, I think he forgot about me.” You say with a chuckle at the end, trying not to ruin the mood.

Hongjoong gently pulls away from you from that, “What?” he asks quietly, the word almost getting drowned out by the hum of the air conditioning, “Sorry, I know this was supposed to be a taboo, forbidden relationship thing but… I’m angry at him.” He says, avoiding your eyes.

“I know I’ve only known you for a few months, but I never felt this way before, it fucking kills me to think that a woman like you would be forgotten, for what exactly? Work?” He said anger gradually filling his voice.

You gently cup his face, still hovering above you, “Kiss me, Hongjoong.”

And he did.

His lips met yours in a searing embrace, just the force of his passion against yours was dizzying, fiery desire clashing to make fireworks behind the eyelids that fluttered close, You never felt this type of longing from your husband, never felt his devotion being kissed through your lips like Hongjoong’s tongue was exploring it.

At that moment, you knew you were gone.

Hongjoong pulled away from you, hazy eyes meeting yours as the string of saliva that connected your mouths broke, at that moment, Hongjoong was stuck in a trance, his lips coming to meet yours over and over, like he couldn’t stop tasting your lips even if he tried.

Out of breath, he grabs a hold of your waist, rolling over to get you on top of him, he reaches behind you, unclasping the hooks of your bra and letting your breasts fall free from it, he cups both of them while you sit up, grinding on his hardening cock through his boxers, he groans at this, reflexively squeezing your boobs.

Placing both of our hands on his pecs, you also give them a gentle squeeze, Hongjoong notices this and giggles, passing his thumbs over your hardening nipples. Your pussy clenches onto nothing at this, a soft gasp left you as you started to grind harder against Hongjoong.

His nails started to dig into your hips, his hip desperately grinding up against you for more friction, soft moans leave him as he throws his head back against the pillows, eyes fluttering close just so he could focus on the sensations of your clothed cunt grinding against his cock through his boxers.

“God, get off of me before I cum in my underwear like a teenager.” He says with a playful groan, lifting your hips off from his crotch.

“Right, you still need to cum inside of me.” You say back playfully, his eyes darkened at this,

“Fuck, you make me want to keep you forever, taking one of your hands and placing a kiss to your palm.

He lifts his hips up only enough to get his boxers off, shimmying it off to somewhere on the floor near his bed. You also take this time to take your underwear off, secretly hiding it under his pillow when you leaned down to kiss him again.

When you both pulled away, another string of saliva connected you two, you took two fingers to swipe at the liquid, bringing it down to rub your clit while you lowered yourself down to grind on his bare cock now.

Hongjoong hisses, “Fuck, I can feel how wet and warm you are, sweet christ.” he breathes out a shaky breath as you grind your bare wetness on his cock, lubricating the shaft for later. You moan at the contact, body slightly shaking from the friction of the tip of his cock hitting your clit occasionally.

“God, Hongjoong, fuck I need you inside me.” You desperately whine out. You lifted your hips p to finally hold his hard cock to align it with your pussy, slowly sinking down on the thick girth, you throw your head back at the satisfying stretch his dick was making you feel.

“Fuck, you feel so good, so tight and warm,” He moans out, he’s definitely not shy about letting you know how good it feels with how vocal he’s being, he takes your right hand and holds it tightly, pressing it against his chest. You could feel his racing heartbeat under his skin, “Let me keep you forever, please, don’t make me beg, run away with me.”

You openly gape at him from this, You’d be a fool to accept this, especially since you’ve only known him for a fraction of the time you knew your husband, but god dammit.

“Take me with you, anywhere you want to go, I’m yours, please take me.” You say desperately, you’ve never been wanted this badly before, and god, you wanted more, for the rest of time.

Hongjoong abruptly thrusts up into you from this, tightly clenching your hand in his, still pressing on top of his racing heart under the skin, You cry out in pleasure, somehow the sensation of his heart under your palm elevates your pleasure, making you go dizzy at the thought that you’re doing this to him, and only you.

You come close to your climax embarrassingly quick, the sensation of his cock rubbing your velvet walls so perfectly made your head spin, your ears are ringing so loudly that it almost drowns out your sounds of pleasure, and the sound of skin slapping against skin.

Hongjoong isn’t far from you either, the same dizzying effect taking hold of his mind too, he’s too close to finishing that he could almost taste it, his moans and whines of your name leaving his lips like a mantra, a prayer, even.

“Hongjoong I’m gonna cum-!” you say frantically, pressing your forehead onto his as he meets your lips with his for the nth time, you swallow the moans he spills into your mouth as you both climax at the same time. His heart still beating frantically under your palm.

“Did you really mean that?” You ask breathlessly, “When you said you wanted me forever, did you mean it?” you couldn’t look him in the eyes.

“Exactly, I meant it word for word, Let me replace the ring on your finger with mine.” He smiles at you.

In the end, he did replace the ring on your finger his his, much more extravagant, and elaborate. Your husband wasn’t surprised at your sudden request for a divorce, since your marriage was already failing before you met Hongjoong.

In the end, he didn't have to know about your High Infidelity.

Tags: @kwanisms, @yoonguurt, @lemonhongjoong, @shinestarhwaa, @stardragongalaxy, @wooyoungmybelovedhusband, @anyamaris, @dimpledsatan, @haosweater, @starlitmark, @seongwin, @midnxght-sky, @nebulousbookshelf, @piratequeen-queenofgames, @northerngalxy, @yourfatherlucifer, @twisted-tales-of-all, @seumiley, @hwasangelbaby

Network Tags: @cultofdionysusnet, @kflixnet

Strikethrough: Couldn't tag

83 notes · View notes

carpeossa · 4 months

Text

Alright, Ghoulies!

The results are in and we have enough people interested to have our two Hannibal Lecter art weeks this year!

FIRST WEEK: February 11th - 17th 2024

#lecterlove2024

So the first week will be set for February 11th - 17th 2024 and theme will be based on the 7 Greek words for love:

Eros: romantic, passionate love

Philia: intimate, authentic friendship

Erotoropia or ludus: playful, flirtatious love

Storge: unconditional, familial love

Philautia: compassionate self-love

Pragma: committed, companionate love

Agápe: empathetic, universal love

You can write, draw, sculpt, 3d print whatever you want.

There is no wrong thing to create during this event; just place the appropriate tags in the post to allow people to avoid any triggering situations (layers to fear level gore, NSFW, and the like) or situations that may get HR on someone's case because they checked the tag on their lunch break (again NSFW).

You can create these in any order you like and although the theme is love, it doesn't HAVE to be based strictly on these 7 types. They're mainly there for suggestions incase of art block.

**Edit: You can write anything love related with any of the characters in the Lecter series. Be them from the Movies, Tv series, or the book series.

The tag for this week will be #lecterlove2024

SECOND WEEK: Oct 27th - Nov 2nd

#horrorlecter2024

The second week will be set for October 27th - November 2nd and the theme will be based on different horror subgenres:

1. Body horror

2. Gothic Horror

3. Supernatural Horror

4. Psychological Horror

5. Found Footage Horror

6. Lovecraftian Horror

7. Survival Horror

Again, you can write, draw, sculpt, 3d print whatever you want.

There is no wrong thing to create with this event; just place the appropriate tags in the post to allow people to avoid any triggering situations (layers to fear level gore, NSFW, and the like) or situations that may get HR on someone's case because they checked the tag on their lunch break (again NSFW).

You can create anything horror related you like. The list I provided is mainly there for suggestions incase of art block.

**Edit: You can write anything horror related with any of the characters in the Lecter series. Be them from the Movies, Tv series, or the book series.

The tag for this week will be #horrorlecter2024

Final remarks,

If you complete the work before the designated week starts and want to share, please do! We'd love to see what you have!

Once the week is over, I'll create a master list containing links to that week's work and who created it.

Also, I hope to make this an annual event so that all members of the Hannibal Lector fandom can have something fun to look forward to each year.

That's all for now, ghoulies! Have fun creating!

#lecterlove2024 #horrorlecter2024 #hannibal lecter #clarice starling #clannibal #william graham #will graham #mason verger #margot verger #paul krendler #jack crawford #francis dolarhyde #jame gumb #frederick chilton #ardelia mapp #barney matthews #I wish there was an undo button when typing out stuff on a post

27 notes · View notes

tangy-soup · 1 year

Text

Hii lookie! Even though I only made like 4 fully rendered pieces this year, I'm happy with what I've done this year!

(For months where I dont't have fully rendered finished pieces I put in the next closest thing I have that month.)

Ramble under the cut where I try to go over each month

General overview:

Funny thing I've noticed is how often I used cool tones this year bc my older art (that ive never shown from like 2 years ago) was characterized by warm tones

Even though I work through fully rendered pieces super slowly and barely come out of the year with any, I'm super proud of my progress this year! I've learnt and grown a lot as an artist and have also realized my potential. With that though also comes my fear of not being able to top what I've done, which I'm trying to work on! My issue is I tend to produce a lot of art when feeling highly inspired by a media, and right now I don't exactly feel the same kind of spontaneous and passionate inspiration as I did during the year. I'm definitely dealing with some sort of mental block right now when it comes to digital art and I'm hoping to get through that soon because I miss the process of making something I love through drawing!!

January:

honestly thought the boatem piece was done last year so I was surprised to find it in my January files! This piece was kind of a turning point for my art as it was my first more complex pieces (i had not previously done a piece w more than 1 character in it really). It was a lot of work and I was very nervous about it but I'm quite proud of what I was able to do!

Late january is also when i started sketching out the ethubs piece actually (i work slow)!

February:

I didn't actually do a ton of art this month, as I tend to take a break and slow down right after finishing a piece. At this point I was very keen on doing pose studies traditionally. I posted some of these and most of them were desert duo.

This month i started to really figure out my dnd character Ethe's main design as our campaign was starting. So, i did a portrait of her for that. The rest of February was working on ethubs and studying how to paint grass and clouds and just sketching here and there. I think desert duo brain rot was strongest this month

March:

March was also a mix of pose studies and random sketches and FINALLY FINISHING ETHUBS. I was also doing some art for dnd ^_^

April:

I finished the dragonborn npc centered dnd piece this month, and also began sketching out the cleo piece. In between working on cleo I did some joe art including an animatic featuring the wordle boarder and the sketch for biblically accurate joe :D

May:

Pretty much anytime i had procreate open in may I was working on Cleo. This is the most ambitious art project I have taken on and I wasn't sure if I was able to make it how I wanted, so I was kind of slow and on and off with it. I ended up putting it down towards the end of the month and did some more personal illustrations

June:

Big month for my dnd blorbos tbh! I introduced a sister for Ethe and was working on her design and their interactions. I also got a bigger sketchbook this month and did a bunch of traditional studies. I finished the flats for cleo this month and took a break so most of the art I did were sketches

July:

I was in the home stretch for cleo and with the help of my friends telling me to finish it i finally pushed through and finished it. I couldnt be happier w the results!! it's one of my proudest pieces this year and I put in so much work for it. But after I finished it i took a huge break from mcyt art and focused on dnd art yet again.

August:

My work for the multidimensional big bang started this month!! I worked out the character design early august and had a sketch for the full piece by the end of the month. In the meantime I was actually working on a cat painting I never posted... maybe I'll post it in an end of year art dump

September:

This month was all about the big bang piece. I had so much fun doing it and am super proud of the finished product. Im especially happy with the composition and inclusion of the background characters!!

October:

Again. Major break from making full pieces after finishing a huge one last month. I think I spent more of my creative energy elsewhere like my writing. Also school started again and I had moved apartments and there was a lot of irl stuff preventing me from drawing. I did try to do traditional studies if I could

November:

Kind of a dead month for drawing. Super busy w school, chugging my way through Ethe's ref sheet i started months ago.

December:

Literally haven't drawn anything new besides a new years illustration for greeting cards. I picked up crocheting again and have been spending a lot of creative energy on that instead, but to keep my drawing going I've been doing more figure studies in my sketch book i guess!

#soup speaks #soup draws #2022 summary of art

10 notes · View notes

rays-of-fire-and-ice · 2 years

Note

For 6th Blog Extravaganza celebration!

the first date wip that you had shared once! ;) (or just a first date for Toushiro & Momo)

&/or

From your artist AU, any moment where the new feelings develop between the two :)

Looking forward to it :)))

Breaking the Block Snippets

Rating: K / General

Setting: you can see the full details in this post, but in short it’s a modern AU where:

Momo (25 yrs old) is a uni student who is studying to become a librarian and used to love drawing and painting but lost her passion for it. She also works in an izakaya that’s across from her parent’s tea shop and is run by Shinji, who has told her to refer to him as ‘Captain’ and is looking celebrate his restaurant’s 10th anniversary in style.

Toshiro (22 yrs old) is an up-and-coming ice sculptor who is having an artist’s block and decided to move back to his old hometown (where Momo lives) to see if that would get the creative juices going. His self-proclaimed agent Rangiku also moved back to keep an eye on him and supply him with ice blocks and tools from her family’s business.

Toshiro and Momo, once childhood friends, reunite at an art exhibition where they’re each seeking inspiration. From there, they develop a relationship through art.

Renji is a street artist and in a relationship with Rukia, Izuru travels the world and has published one book of haiku poems, Rukia is a sand sculptor but her true passion lies in ice sculpting, and Byakuya is a world-renowned sand sculptor who took his sister-in-law on as a protégé.

Note that I tweaked the character slightly (such as Toshiro being more self-consciouse about his appearance) as I believe in a modern human AU they aren't entirely the characters we'd know them as.

AN: Well, canariie, I’m not just going to give you the snippet where they develop feelings, I’m giving you all the snippets (because I don’t know when I’ll get another chance to post them).

Please note these are snippets, so it's not really a fic...more like a bunch of scenes. I don’t know how well these can be read by themselves without context, so I do recommend checking out the main plot points here just so you know what’s going on, and I’ve also title each section so you know which plot point I’m referring to. Hope you enjoy it!

______________________________________

THE BEGINNING

Momo drummed her fingers on the back of her sketchbook and rocked back and forth on her heels. Only two floors to go and then she’ll turn left to the gallery at the end of hallway.

To think she would be seeing the works of Otoribashi up close…She grinned, bringing her sketchbook closer to her chest. With one floor to go, she adjusted the strap of her handbag and quickly composed herself. She didn’t want to make a fool of herself, especially with other fans of his work no doubt coming to this exhibition. Maybe she could finally talk to fellow appreciators, and see if they saw what she did in their works.

When the doors starts to slide open, she quickly stepped out and made a sharp turn to the left.

“Oof!”

She stumbled back, bouncing off whoever she bumped into. In her haste, she hadn’t noticed someone was standing next to the elevator.

“You okay?”

Momo was left momentarily speechless when she saw who she bumped into. His white hair was tied back, but a few short, spiked strands stuck on his temples and at the top of his head. She had to crane her neck back to look into his blue-green eyes. They were steely and cold, unflinching away from her gaze, and she almost thought he was glaring at her. It didn’t help that his brows, also white, were furrowed to the bridge of his nose. It’s only when his nose twitched that she found her voice again.

“I-I’m sorry,” she hastily apologised, head bowed. “I wasn’t looking where I was going!”

He shrugged slightly and half turned from her. “It’s no problem.” Then, without another word, and he turned on his heel and headed down the hallway. For a few seconds, Momo simply watched him walk away. She had never seen anyone with such a distinctive appearance, except for…

No, it couldn’t be him, she thought. He moved away years ago.

When she saw him turn off to the left, she quickly got moving again. She stopped short when she stepped on something. Frowning, she looked down as she lifted her sandal. Stooping down, her fingers curled around a pen. It was expertly crafted, like a fountain pen.

Well, it’d be rude to not return it, right?

She sped walked in the direction he went. Sure enough, it’s the gallery she was going to as well. At the entrance, a group had gathered under the ‘please wait here for the next guided tour’ sign, while others were filing into the gallery. The white-haired stranger was nowhere to be seen.

Momo joined with growing group of people who wanted a guided tour. With any luck, she might see him while she toured the gallery.

___________________________________

THE REUNION AT THE EXHIBITION

Momo peeled away from the tour group, her gaze locked on the white-haired man standing before Otoribashi’s most famous work. Against a background of water-colour reds and oranges, several thin, golden figures danced across the canvas, their elongated bodies caught in obscure poses. Their heads, with only petal-like spikes blooming from where a face should be, were either thrown either forward or backward. The Golden Shala Dancing Troupe.

She slowed her walk towards the painting. How should she do this? Should she pretend to come look at the artwork and just happen to notice him next to her? Should she come out and just ask if it’s really him? Should she lead with returning his pen?

Deciding the latter was the better option, she pulls the pen out of her pocket with her free hand. She halts only a few steps away from him. He hasn’t noticed her, still looking at The Golden Shala Dancing Troupe. The way he held himself - arms folded across his chest and his shoulders squared, and his head tilted back a fraction - it’s too much like the boy she knew from her childhood.

If it really is him, what would she do? Nerves thrummed through her as she finally come stand next to him. Swallowing against the growing tightness in her throat, she said, “Um, excuse me?”

The man rapidly blinked, as though coming out of deep thought, before shifting his attention to her. Perhaps surprised by her, his frown had softened away, and the steeliness was gone. Whenever her friend had been surprised, he had the exact same expression. She almost said his name, but stopped herself.

When he didn’t say anything, Momo held out the pen to him, “Sorry again about earlier. You dropped this when I bumped into you.”

The frown deepened a fraction as she spoke. He didn’t look away from her to the pen. He blinked again as his lips parted. Did he…?

With a courage she never knew she had, Momo ventured, “T-This might be presumptuous of me but, I, uh…I think we’ve met before. Did you, um, used to live near a tea shop in Karakura Town?”

The man’s eyes widened. He fully turns from away from the painting, completely facing her. It’s as if she gave him a final piece “…Hinamori?”

Momo gasped, her hold on the pen almost faltering as she lowered it. “Hitsugaya-kun?” When he nodded, she smiled shakily. “I thought it was you.”

A LITTLE BIT LATER ON IN THE SAME SCENE

Momo looked back at The Golden Shala Dancing Troupe.

This was the piece she’d come to see. Up until now she’d only every saw it in textbooks from her art club classmates or online. It had inspired a few works from her, had made her curious about the artist behind it. Though her fascination for Otoribashi’s work had faded over time, she still had a strange place in her heart for them, had been excited about coming here today.

“I used to be a bigger fan of Otoribashi’s work, back when I was in middle school. However, over time, I moved on to other things. When I heard there was exhibition on, I knew the younger me would have given anything to see this.” She raised a hand to her lips. Why was she oversharing with him? Sure, they’d been friends once, but it’d been several years since they last saw each other.

“So, uh…what’re you doing nowadays? Are you back for a visit?”

He considered for a moment, staring off to the side, “I just moved back. Hoping to get a few commissions here.”

“Commissions?”

After a beat he pulled out his wallet and from it a card. There’s a nervousness in the way he hands it to her, as if rarely gave it out. Maybe he’s only just started a business of his own? She knows from her parent’s experience it can be hard to learn how to network and create a business from the ground up.

She takes the card. It’s plain with only the essential details on it. Yep, definitely only just started. When she looks under his name, her eyes widen. “You’re an ice sculptor?”

“Yeah.”

She can’t help but smile. “I never would have thought you’d become a sculptor. I never knew you were the creative type.”

He half-heartedly shrugged. “I didn’t either.”

Her smile faltered for a moment. What did that mean? She was going to ask why he chose sculpting of all things, but that response put her off. “It must be an interesting job. You said before you’ve only been back two months, but have you gotten many commissions since you came back?”

“A few,” he said. “Still trying to…” He raised his hands to make air quotes. “ ’Establish my brand’.”

From the way he said it, half sarcastic and half weariness, she wondered who was giving him his business advice.

AGAIN A BIT LATER IN THIS SCENE

“Would it be okay if I kept your card?”

“Huh?”

“I think I know someone who would be interested in commissioning you. He’s having a tenth anniversary for his izakaya and is looking for decorations.”

Toshiro dropped his hand a fraction and raised a brow. “…Is this out of pity?”

Momo straightened. She forgot how blunt he could be. “Of course not! I just thought of the opportunity.”

___________________________________

MOMO VISITING SHINJI’S IZAKAYA TO DELIVER HER PARENTS’ ANNIVERSARY GIFT

“Captain!”

Shinji spun around. “Oi, what’re you doing here? I gave you time off to study!”

“I’m just stopping by.” Momo pulled out the envelope. “Here, from my parents.”

Her boss’s usual smile returns. “Ah, ain’t they sweet. Don’t have time to open it now, but thank ‘em for me, will ya?” He tucked the envelope into his breast pocket. “How was the exhibition?”

“I couldn’t believe I was seeing Otoribashi’s works up close! He’s truly an amazing artist.”

“That geezers out there making millions on his artwork while I’m stuck here.”

Before it even happened, Momo knew Hiyori, who was working behind them in the kitchens, is going to slam her hands down on the counter. “Whadda mean stuck here?!” she shouted.

“I wasn’t talking to you!” Shinji yelled back over his shoulder.

“Sure sounds like you were! We can hear you from all the way over here, loud mouth!”

“Just get back to work! We’re opening in an hour!”

Momo smiled nervously as she peered around her boss. “Hello, Sarugaki-san.”

Hiyori snorted. “Hey! Don’t stay here too long, Shinji’s influence will give you bad luck on your exams!”

Shinji pulled a face when Hiyori turned and went back into the kitchens.

Momo thought to comment but instead chooses to rummage through her wallet. “There was something else I wanted to give while I’m here, Captain.”

That got his attention. “Yeah?”

She held out Toshiro’s business card. “You were looking for a decorative piece for the anniversary. This person makes ice sculptures and takes commission for events.”

Shinji raised a brow as he took the card. He flipped it over and slowly smirked. “Well…either his parents decided his fate for him or that’s the most coincidental name I’ve seen.”

“Huh? What do you mean?”

“Hitsugaya Toshiro… for one part of his name, the character for ‘to’ means ‘winter’.”

Momo was suddenly thankful she didn’t mention her and Toshiro had been childhood friends; she might’ve let slip she used to call him ‘Shiro-chan’, only adding to the pun that only Shinji found amusing. “In any event, maybe you could ask him to make you a sculpture for next week.”

___________________________________

CATCHING UP WITH RENJI AND IZURU

As she recounted her time at the exhibition, it struck Momo how uneventful her life must sound either of her friends. Izuru travelled the world and always brought back exciting stories about his adventures in other countries, while Renji always showed off the latest street art he’d been commissioned to do or what he and Rukia had been up to. Her life felt so mundane compared to theirs, but she carried on, hoping they hadn’t noticed the shift in her mood.

“I also bumped into an old friend while I was there.”

“Oh? Someone from high school?” Izuru asked.

“No, way further back. His name is Hitsugaya Toshiro. I don’t think you would have met him, he moved away when we were kids. He’s an ice sculptor now and recently moved ba-”

Renji gagged on his coffee, quickly smacking a hand over his mouth before he could spit it out. Momo and Izuru look on in concern as he made a massive gulp to get the drink down. Renji almost wilted against the table, gasping for air, as Izuru pat him on the back.

“What’s wrong?” Momo asked. “Was the coffee too hot?”

“N-No, it was…it was…”

With some renewed energy, Renji practically ripped out a magazine from his backpack and slammed it on the table. At the top of the page in a bold font was Sculpture, and on the cover was a black-haired, stoic man with a strange character made from wood. Before she could read anything on the cover, Renji furiously flicked through the pages.

“Why do you even have that on you?” Izuru asked.

“Rukia is featured in it! She did this really amazing sculpture of Chappy the Rabbit and…that’s besides the point!” He stopped on a double page of two ice sculptures. One was of a chair – no, Momo realised, a throne – and the other was a table.

“See, this is his work!” Renji said while stabbing his finger repeatedly into the pages. “This is Hitsugaya’s work! He’s an up-and-coming sculptor and only entered five contests but he got first place in his first one! He was only seventeen years old! They’re already calling the guy a prodigy because he just makes stuff like this like it’s nothing and he’s only just getting started!”

Momo only half paid attention to Renji’s ranting and raving, her focus on the magazine. The throne is imposing, the back towered high and the arms that came from it were wide and rectangular save for the rounded outer edges. The table was crafted in a similar fashion to match, angular and sharp.

Looking closer though, she noticed the finer details. Carved deep into the arms were lines that swirled over the sides, giving the impression they were cushioned. The lines etched into the legs of both the throne and table were wavy, making them appear as though the chair and the table top were being held up by streams of water. The throne’s back had what seemed like hundreds of lines going from the centre point at the bottom and stretching and fanning out all directions, creating ridges and leaving no part of the surface smooth. It’s topped with a large diamond shape that has an engraving of a daffodil; the flower’s design looking like someone has used a steel calligraph brush to ‘paint’ it into the surface. She can only imagine how his sculptures looked in real life; how cold they must be and what he must to do include the details in them.

This is what he’d been up to, and she was none the wiser until just now. He’d accomplished this much, had won competitions even. Had he always been this talented? Had he been doing this sort of stuff since they were children? She knew he was smart, but this was so different form what she knew.

Someone said her name. She finally looked back up at Renji and Izuru. “Oh, sorry! I think I spaced out there. What were you saying?”

Izuru frowned, but Renji carried on. “I was asking how you knew Hitsugaya.”

___________________________________

AFTER TOSHIRO COMPLETES SHINJI’S SCULPTURE AND COMES BACK TO HIS CONCEPTS ROOM

Toshiro shook out the last of the chill that clung to him while he ascended the stairs to the studio. The sting of warmth of the world outside of his ice room on his nose or eyes ebbed away as he slid the puffer jacket off to hang on the back of the door. When he got into the studio, the last of the sunset poured in and the sky was dark blue faded into purple.

Nothing was out of place, as if she had never come. Frowning, he pulled out his phone and checked. She’d texted him she’d come today. His brows furrowed deeper at the slight tightening in his chest. Had he hoped she’d still be here?

He shook his head and slid his phone back into his pocket. What was he thinking? Of course she wouldn’t stay that long. With a sigh he went over to his workbench to put away the concept sketches.

He froze at the brown paper bag resting on top of a folded piece of paper. Putting the sketches aside, he picked up the bag. He tilted his head at the dorayaki inside. Had Momo brought this? Rangiku had never cooked a day in her life as far he knew, and if she she came here she would have called ahead of time to let him know.

After turning on the lamp and sitting on the stool, he took up the note it came with it and got his answer:

I brought this in case you needed a snack. I hope you like it, it’s my dad’s recipe. I also hope the sculpting went well! Thanks again for letting me use your studio, I’ll see you soon. – Hinamori Momo

Next to her name is a small, cutesy grinning face, but that isn’t the sketch that caught his attention first. At the top of the paper is a drawing of a flower. He didn’t know which one, but similar to her flying tree drawing, there’s a dream like quality to it. The lines that make up the petals swell like a river, giving the drawing a flowing quality. There’s a roughness to the outline though, the lines are thicker but not purposeful as the ones she used to shade in the petals and stem. It must have been a warm up drawing, and judging from two of the sides being ripped, she must have pulled it out from her sketchbook.

Why has she used it though? He can’t recall if he gave her permission to use any of the blank pieces of paper in his studio, but even so she could have ripped a blank section of her sketchbook. Why had she included this flower? Was it because he’d complimented her on her drawing? Was she in such a rush to leave that she ripped the first page she saw.

And even though a part of his mind tried to tell him he was reading too much into it, he’s touched. Not just that she’d taken the time to write that for him or that she’d left him a snack – which he took a tentative bite from as he tucked the concept sketches back into his workstation's drawer – but that she’d come here. She’d like using this space to draw, to be free from the whatever pressured her in the world outside of this studio.

More than that though, he realised when he was halfway through the sweet dorayaki, he’d missed her company.

It unnerved him a little, enough to stop eating and stare at the drawing of the flower. He always preferred working in solitude, with no distractions. It allowed him to zone in on the details or a piece, to know what he was doing and how he would shape the sculpture, whether it was in sketch form or carving into a block of ice. Having her there, it should have been a distraction. He don’t know what possessed him to agree to let her use his studio space.

No, that was a lie. He knew, he’d known since she first came here. He could see it in the drawings she did, in the way she spoke about her university studies. She was having an artist’s block, just like him. He’d found someone else, though probably not as lost as he felt, but who would probably understand. It helped she she’d been his friend too, he had a fuzzy understanding of who she was already. It helped that being around her made him remember some of the happier times from his childhood, made him want to get to know her as she is now.

He sighed through his nose as heat crept up to his cheeks. It helped him remember how he used to feel about her. The embers of those feelings rekindle somewhere in him, warming a part of him that had been abandoned a long time ago.

___________________________________

PORTRAIT SCENE (AT THE BEGINNING THEY’VE GONE ON A BREAK AND GRABBED A COFFEE BEFORE HEADING BACK TO HIS STUDIO)

“When we get back, could I draw a portrait of you?”

He paused, pulling the coffee away from his lips. “Huh?”

“I, uh…I’d like to draw your portrait.” With a nervous smile, she shrugged. “It’s actually been a while since I’ve drawn people or someone’s portrait, so I thought I’d give it a shot again…only if you want to of course! There’s no pressure at all.”

He pressed his lips together and his brows furrowed deeper. There’s that hesitation again. It didn’t take her long to realise why it came up.

Now that she remembered, it was the same when they were children. He always seemed to get nervous or apprehensive about someone taking his photo. It often took a lot of convincing, and more often than not he didn’t smile in any of the pictures taken of him. She’d always wondered if it was because he was self-conscious about his appearance. He needn’t be, in her opinion.

He stared at her sketchbook for a long moment, then took a sip of coffee. They were turning the corner when he finally said, “…Fine.”

Momo almost did a double take. “Are you sure? Like I said, no pressure. And besides, because it’s been so long, I’ll probably be rusty, so I might not-”

“All the more reason to practice then.”

Her heart fluttered. He’s serious. “Great!”

A BIT LATER IN THE SAME SCENE

When they returned to the studio, Toshiro packed up the tools for his wax sculpture while Momo rummaged through her bag for her pencils.

“So, how should I pose?” Toshiro asked.

“Oh, whatever is most comfortable for you,” Momo said, her voice came out higher than she wanted. She’d half expected him to reject the request, hoping he’d say yes. Now that he had though, she’d have the sketch him. Swallowing against the growing nerves, she said more evenly, “I’ll probably only be drawing form the shoulders up anyway.”

As Momo busied herself with getting the pencils she needed, Toshiro dragged the chair from his workbench over to one of the windows. When she next looked up, he was sitting half turned to the window with his shin balanced over the opposite knee and arms folded across his chest. If she didn’t know him as well as she did, she’d have thought was pensive. Maybe he was, but he did agree to do this.

He jerked a thumb to the window. “Do you need more lighting?”

“No, it’s just right.” She grabbed the nearest chair and carried it over to him. When she was a meter from him, she took a few steps in both directions, gauging which angle would be best. She settled on viewing a one-quarter perspective, so he wouldn’t have to keep his head turned to her at a difficult angle for a long time.

She put the pencils she’d need for later on the window sill and then sat in her chair, balancing her sketchbook on her crossed legs. Taking in a deep breath, she finally looked him in the eye. Her pencil hovered over the blank page she took him, really took him in. The shape of his eyes, hairline, and nose, where the shadows welled and the light hit brightest, and the creases in his eyebrows. She’s taken back to high school art classes, where she realised how much detail there can be in a human face.

His gaze shifted the longer she stared. Giving a rueful smile, she began sketching the basic shapes of his face. First the jaw, then the cheekbones and forehead.

“If you need to move, let me know,” she said while drawing. “I don’t know how long this will take, but hopefully not more than an hour.”

He grunted but otherwise said nothing else. The only sounds were of her drawing and the coming and going of the town beyond the window. He remained still, and Momo wondered when she if he even blinked when she wasn’t looking.

And as she sketched, it occurred to her there’s a sharpness to his features. She knew his face when it was softer, when his cheeks and eyes were rounder, his lips small and thin, and his nose more button-like. The only parts of him that had some of that softness still were the angle of his jaw and the roundness of his chin. Now his lips are defined, his nose straight and long, his cheekbones pronounced and high, his eyes narrower, and his hair spiky and longer.

While studying his hair gave her a moment to pause, she’s not sure what it was – maybe it was the light just hitting him at the right moment or being so caught up in remember how he used to look – but for a moment she’s taken back to the first time she met him. To one of her first thoughts about him was, His hair looks like snow. It must be just as soft as snow.

It’s not the first time she’d wondered if it’s still as soft as when they were children. She couldn’t help but smirk at the memories of ruffling his hair whenever she praised him and his annoyed or bashful reactions. She tried to hide it by ducking her head and resuming her drawing.

“Can I ask you something?” he asked a minute later.

She nodded as she did a rough sketch of his hairline. “Sure.”

“Why did you pick me?”

She paused and blinked at him, trying to come up with an answer. “I’ve drawn my friends and family before, many times. I guess I just wanted to draw someone I hadn’t drawn before.”

Something flickered his gaze; she’s not sure what, it came and went so quick.

“A new challenge, then?” he offered.

“In a sense,” she said with a shrug. “but also…”

She’d reminisced about how he used to look, but it didn’t mean she didn’t like how he looked now. She’d even go as far as to say he was…handsome. That maybe, just maybe, she liked looking at his face…

Her face heated up, and she prayed against all hope that she hadn’t turned red. “…you’ve also got an interesting face.”

He quirked up an eyebrow. “Interesting?”

She bowed her head back to her sketchbook and resumed drawing. “Yes,” she said tightly. “It’s very…interesting.”

She heard him shift in his chair. “What does ‘interesting’ mean?”

“I-It’s means just that. Everyone has an interesting face for different reasons.”

“And why is mine ‘interesting’?”

The defensive tone made her look up again. Her worry must reflect in her eyes, because his frown softened and he sat up straighter in his chair. “Forget it,” he mumbled.

The giddiness is gone, and the air around them steeps into awkwardness. He struggled to maintain eye contract with her and, whether he realised it or not, he's turned his torso away from her.

She turned her pencil away from the page and rested her hands along either edge of the sketchbook. Yes, he’s handsome, and that was part of the reason she wanted to sketch him. It’s only in looking at the space between him and the window, showing the town she’d grown up in her whole life and he for several years, that the other reason emerges.

There was a strange intimacy that came with drawing his face. She felt like she could see aspects of him no else could. It wasn’t that he was hiding himself from everyone, but just that she could notice things others couldn’t. She could convey that in her drawing, in softness of his jaw, hair, and a speckle of it in his eyes. Perhaps she’s still that stubborn girl who wanted to prove to the other children on the street that Toshiro was not strange or unapproachable, that he was as normal as any of them. She wanted to prove it through her drawing, but to who? To him or herself?

Laying her pencil and sketchbook in her lap, she rested her hands one over the other on top of her sketch. She wrung them, pulling on her fingers and pressing her palms together, needing an outlet for her nerves.

She looked out the window, deciding to risk it. “I remember when we were younger you didn’t like anyone pointing out how you looked. You didn’t look like anyone else in the neighborhood, and I can’t imagine how that felt for you.” She paused, risking a glance at him. He stared at the floorboards, expression neutral.

“The truth is, I never saw what the big deal was,” she continued tentatively, “but that’s easy for me to say. It doesn’t change how you feel about your appearance and I don’t know what you went through that made you feel that way.” With that off her chest, she tapped her hands on the sketchbook and leaned forward. She pressed her lips together, trying to think of the best way to explain her main reason for drawing him. “I mentioned your looks because I thought it help me get to know you better.”

That got him to raise his head. At his raised brow she fiddled with the pencil and smiled rueful. “I guess now that I’ve said it aloud it sounds pretty pretentious, huh?”

He considered, blinking but not breaking his gaze from hers. He looked like he wanted to say something, but held himself back. Asking him to share his thoughts wouldn’t work, so she continued.

“Everyone has something interesting about their appearance," she said. “My friend, Nanao-san, she has these eyes are hard to describe. They’re so wide and expressive, but they somehow look so serious all the time. My other friends, Abarai-kun and Kira-kun, have something that makes them distinctive. Abarai-kun has tattoos over most of his body, and even though he's not allowed into certain places because of them, he still adding them." She couldn't help but chuckle. "I've actually drawn a few portraits of him just to keep track of the new tattoos he gets. Then there's Kira-kun, who always styles his hair in interesting ways, and for almost every style I've drawn a portrait of him. When I first drew all of them, I felt like was getting to know them. Every time since the when I draw them, I see things about them I never saw before, whether it's in a new tattoo or hairstyle, or it made appreciate things about them more than I already did.

Her smile faded to something smaller and sincere. “With you, there’s also been a lot that’s been interesting about you. It’s easy for me to say this, but there’s nothing wrong with how you look, Hitsugaya-kun. I never meant to make you uncomfortable if I did, just now or back then. I knew you when we were children, and to see you again as an adult, it’s taken some getting used to. By drawing you, I feel like can get to know you as you are now.”

She expected him to stay quiet, amplifying the awkwardness between them, and then she’ll lean back and laugh it off and continue sketching, her hand trembling from renewed nerves. She’d mess up the portrait with shaky and rushed lines and never show him.

“I think I get it.”

She swallowed down a confused sound. Toshiro leaned forward, their faces were not far from each other now. For a moment she’s caught up in observing him again, noticing the lines in his furrowed brows and the faintest scar at the edge of his hairline, and almost missed what he said next.

“When I sculpt, it helps me understand the form of whatever it is I’m sculpting,” he said, gaze flickering from her to the floorboards again. “It helps me understand what makes it stand or move, how strong it needs to be to do both. It helps me to see the finer details of something I had never previously really looked at. The first time I sculpted a , I was the lines and creases in the petals for the first time, and just how the petals are attached to the stem. I saw the form of it for the first time.”

He looked at her, and she can tell it takes everything in him to do so. “You asked me a while back why I chose sculpting, and I think that’s why. I wanted to see the forms of things, to know how they were made up. With you, it sounds like you want to know how a person is made up through drawing.”

It’d been as she’d though: he was drawn to the technical side of sculpting. He wanted to understand smaller parts of the world through it, and judging from his more fantastical sculpture he did for competition, the inhabitants of a world that didn’t exist in reality. But he brought them to life, from dragons to thrones made up of obscure shapes. Wherever those ideas came from he wanted to understand their forms, and maybe he wanted others to see them too.

There was a hesitancy in his voice, as if this were the first time he’d shared all of this with someone. She imagined it was, he’s always been shy about opening up to others for whatever reason.

Momo's heart trembled at the thought, that’d been this open and honest with her. They’d opened up to each other, had gotten to know that little bit more about the other. They’re friends, but now she felt it had changed, deepened into something new. She knew this feeling, it had been a long time since she’d last felt it, and for him of all people. Someone she’d only known in childhood, who’s adult self she was still trying to understand.

She’s afraid to break this moment, enjoying the intensity and warmth of the air between them. But the day is getting on, and she’d have to go home soon. She smiled and had to resist the urge to reach across and enfolded her hand over his; she didn’t want to push it, to make him clamp up to her again. “Thank you for telling me.”

#hitsuhina #toshiro hitsugaya #momo hinamori #AU #renji abarai #izuru kira #shinji hirako #hiyori sarugaki #fanfiction #kinda?#bleach #I have a few other snippets but I felt these were the most 'complete' ones #the ones that can actually be considered a scene if you will #maybe one day I'll release more but in the meantime #hope you like these!#blog anniversary requests

12 notes · View notes

foxssie · 4 years

Photo

School aka it’s killing me march 2020

#fox #school #book #study #cartoon #art #mine #honestly i need a break #to rest my mind a little #to break of art block and to finally draw with passion ;_;

11 notes · View notes

2jaeh · 3 years

Text

FREAKS THE PREQUEL : TAEYONG X TEN X READER

genre: smut, humor

warnings: poly themes, alcohol, some drug use, threesome, oral M and F receiving, semi-public, fxm, mxm, just a lot of smut related tags tbh

word count : 11,8 K

AUTHOR SIN

Everyone had heard of you but where did the story begin ?

This is the prequel to FREAKS (Jaehyun x reader) a story of why the entire campus were almost certain that you Taeyong and Ten were in a poly affair.

A/N: before anyone asks I will be doing a part two of Freaks w Jaehyun, I needed to get this part out first! Also commissions are open on my fiverr and let me know in my inbox what you think of this series!

0. Prequel

1. Freaks pt 1

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

You always wondered what it was like to fit in. Whether people rarely stared, that It didn’t matter what music you listened to or how you dressed as long as you followed the quota you were good. But four months into university made you quickly realise that it wasn’t easy making friends as people made it out to be. Being in the art department, you took notice of a few people that met your requirements but after an exchange or two the conversation fell flat and it would feel like you were back to square one.

You sat your sketchbook down on the wooden table situated at the back of the fine arts classroom and slumped into the chair waiting for class to begin. Your eyes watched every person that sauntered through those indigo doors. Hippies, wannabe tattoo artists, rich kids who took art just to prove they’re cultured, and the ones who weren’t worth remembering.

“Today we will explore life drawings so pull out the items I asked you to collect and partner up with the person seated next to you” your lecturer clapped his hands as the classroom filled with shuffling of seats and small greetings.

You turned to your left and noticed a black haired boy with a mullet cut passed out on the desk. You had seen him at a few parties but you’ve only exchanged less than a sentence with him.

Grabbing your pencil you poked his exposed arm until he groaned and stretched his arms out in front of him yawning, “Are we done already ?”

“We just started, and were partners” you faked a smile and shifted your desk closer to him.

“Oh shit sorry, you’re y/n right ?” He asked, his voice was soft and friendly. His cat-like eyes blinked cutely as he adjusted his loose shirt and turned his body to face you, “you were at Jungwoo’s party last week.”

“Oh yeah I was” you chuckled scratching the back of your head, “You…are Ten Lee, I remember your strip club design project. It was pretty awesome”

Ten’s eyes lit up at your words and you felt a sense of warmth emanating from him. It felt genuine unlike most people on this campus and you couldn’t believe it took you this long to even talk to him.

“I tend to see how far I can go before the faculty calls my parents in” he snickered and began pulling out his drawing equipment from his overly decorated tote bag. You mimicked his actions and in turn pulled out the items your lecturer had asked you to collect. Personal trinkets he said, three items that you think represented you.

You looked around at the nearby desks and noticed a lot of the same items placed on everyone's desk. Candles, AirPods, tea boxes, vinyls and anything else you would find on ‘art hoe Tumblr 101’. You annoyingly rolled your eyes as you looked down at your own equipment.

A rusty old key you had found in your room, the cigarette butt of the last one you smoked since you’d quit, and of course the grand finale, an anime figurine of a woman with boobs bigger than her head. Perfect.

“Hentai is…..your identifier ?” Ten stifled his laughter as he grabbed the figurine from your desk and closely examined her clothing, or lack thereof.

“I actually stole that from the store my ex worked at but yeah we can go with that, what is yours ?”

You watched Ten remove the items from his bag and your eyes widened at one item in particular, “dude is that a vibrator ?” You questioned and Ten grinned, holding up the palm sized gadget and switched it on briefly before turning it off and flinging it on his desk, “yeah I identify strongly with it” he shrugged.

“How exactly?” You quizzed him as the boy, still poker faced, played with the rings on his fingers.

“Vibrators pleasure people, and I do the same, there's no lore to it y/n”

“Good to know I guess” you pressed your lips together and you felt Ten tug on your arm until his lips were against your ear,

“You wanna skip and try it out in the bathroom ?”

———————————————————————————————————

You had no idea what the fuck was going on but within minutes you and Ten were walking down the hall to the nearest bathroom after he explained to the lecturer that the two of you had to hand in a business assignment a couple doors down. Ten pulled you into the girls bathroom and looked under each stall until he realised you two were the only ones in here.

“What the fuck is happening right now” you walked hand in hand with him into the last stall and leaned against the cold tiled wall.

“You about to get one of the best orgasms ever that's what” Ten bit down on his lip cheekily and found the slit of your floral skirt and pushed it to the side, revealing your black laced panties on full display for him.

As Ten’s fingers slowly began making its way to your core you smacked his hand, causing him to look up with wide eyes, “What ?”

“At least kiss me first, how am I supposed to get in the…mood?” Ten chuckled at your words and raised his hands amusingly, “Okay Okay I didn’t think this would be a whole ordeal”

You rolled your eyes and pulled Ten by his neck into a deep kiss that actually surprised the both of you. Each side was filled with lust as your tongue moved against his and fought for dominance. Ten pressed his body against you roughly, earning a moan from both of you once you felt your bodies connect in the most passionate way. Kissing him was different, It completely changed the way you looked and felt about him. He went from being the cute cat boy in your class to probably one of the sexiest people you had ever met. Ten roughly bit your lip and smirked into the kiss when he felt your nails dig into his shoulder. He quickly used the opportunity to slip his hands in-between your legs which you politely parted for him and ran a finger over your core.

“Oh shit” you breathed against his lips as he moved the material out of the way and slipped his finger inside with ease. His finger moved slowly in and out of you while his lips were still attached to yours not missing a second of that mouth-watering kiss. You had no idea when his finger was replaced with the vibrator but the sensation made you break away from the kiss and throw your head back in ecstasy, not knowing when was the last time you even felt like this. The combination of Ten’s wet kisses on your neck and the vibrator completely destroying you, it was happening. The orgasm of the fucking century was approaching. You would like to believe that you were only at your breaking point because you hadn’t hooked up with anyone in a while not because Ten was this good. But he was. He was fucking amazing and this was just a taste, just an introduction to him.

Ten increased the speed of the vibrator until your legs were shaking and clasped his hand over your mouth to prevent the whole department from hearing you coming undone.

“Fuck..” You sighed, holding onto his shoulders for support as you tried catching your breath, “yeah the whole pleasure analogy between you and the vibrator….I get it.”

“Glad to be of service” Ten stuck his tongue in his cheek and began neatening his outfit before hooking arms with you and walking out of the bathroom. You already had no intention of going back to class anytime soon so the two of you ended up wandering the halls of the pristine campus, hoping the day would pass away.

“Y/n” you heard a voice call from behind you, not your favourite voice in the world.

“Fuck” you sighed and turned around, watching the tall black haired man make his way over to you. You watched a cocky smile spread across his face as he came over, his tall frame standing over you and Ten.

“What do you want Jinyoung ?” you asked, raising your eyebrow at him and folded your arms.

The boy bit down on his lip and moved his hair out of his face, “I just came to say hi y/n do you have to be so rude ?” He scoffed and raised his eyebrow at Ten, “got a new boy toy ?”

“What Ten and I do is honestly none of your business” you responded coldly, Ten immediately putting two and two together and stifled a laughter before smiling up at Jinyoung,

“Oh you’re the ex boyfriend ? Is this the one who finishes in 10 seconds ?” Tens words caught you off guard causing you to let out a chuckle and Jinyoung to shift uncomfortably in his spot. He tried his best to stay composed but his red ears told a different story.

“That’s probably someone else, you know she’s been around the block” he licked his lips and folded his arms across his chest.

“Anyway do you want something ? We gotta go back to class” you rolled your eyes and rested your head on Tens shoulder.

“Come out with me tonight, you know I always get guestlist to varsity parties” Jinyoung said and Ten waved his hand in front of his face startling Jinyoung, “I have plans with her, so maybe next time” Ten pulled you down the hall before Jinyoung could get in another word. You couldn’t help but turn back and take in his dumbstruck frame as the two of you furthered away from him and headed back to class.

“We have plans ?” You asked as the two of you slipped back into your seats and Ten propped his legs up on the table and leaned back,

“Yeah there’s a party at that guy Wooyoung's place tonight and we’re going” Ten stretched his arms above his head, “wear something sexy so I’m not standing out.”

————————————————————————-

Of Course listening to Tens words and knowing the kind of closet you were working with it wasn’t that hard to not stand out. You opted for a cute little baby blue mini dress that was tight enough to show off your curves and a pair of holographic combat boots. Your favourite part was always getting to match your eye make up to your outfit. Drawing on an intricate design that accentuated your big round eyes almost made you doll-like.

You retrieved your phone and noticed you received a text from Ten, who had already updated an outfit pic on story. A very low buttoned down black shirt and black shiny pants that had a fucking garter around his leg ?

Yeah he was hot and the both of you knew it.

You grabbed the last of your things and made your way downstairs to Ten who was waiting at the dorm house entrance. Unconsciously biting on your lip you were welcomed by his slender figure posted up against the fence with a cigarette hanging from his mouth. He looked straight out of a movie.

“God finally….holy shit you look hot!” He whistled and pulled you into a tight hug before pulling you into a kiss and grabbed your waist. The kiss was indeed surprising even though earlier that day he was practically fucking your brains out.

His lips were soft and sweet, laced with a hint of the menthol cigarette from earlier. Ten finally pulled away and he gave your ass a cheeky squeeze before handing you his half burnt cigarette,

“Let’s have a wild fucking night then shall we ?”

Taking the cigarette from him you took a drag and blew the smoke up into the air forgetting about your sobriety and watched it disappear in the night sky, “let’s go.”

The night was cold but quite a few people were all over the residence roads, making their way to various parties or down to the bars where the rowdiness had already begun.

“Shit I really should’ve brought something to pre drink” Ten sighed and pulled out his phone.

“Who are you texting ?” You asked, trying to match his quick footsteps as yall began nearing the busy part of the street.

“Yuta, you know that tattoo guy ? He always has a bottle on him” Ten explained as you followed him into a narrow corner and saw a group of people gathered at the steps of the building. You noticed a few people from your department hanging around but the most noticeable person was in fact Yuta Nakamoto. His long black hair, pierced ears and tatted up body was hard to miss. You got a tattoo from him once and it almost ended with him making out with you on his work desk.

But that was a story both of you agreed to forget.

“Ten and y/n, weird combination but I’m not really surprised, what’s up ?” Yuta grinned and handed Ten the bottle of vodka while pulling you into a quick hug.

“Yeah it’s called matching each other’s energy” Ten winked at you and took a shot of vodka straight out of the bottle before handing it to you. You eyed the clear bottle up and down knowing your kidneys were screaming at you right now but fuck you hated walking into a party without a slight buzz going. You took the bottle and took a shot before wincing at the bitter taste and the fiery sensation that was now running down your throat. “You ready ?” Ten grinned holding out his hand and you placed your hand in his, nodding a thank you to Yuta and his friends before entering the chaotic party.

There were people of all kinds inside. Some from your department, some from God knows where. All you could see were lingering eyes on you and Ten as you stepped inside. Some people made it obvious that they were staring, hoping that maybe you’d strike up a conversation with them. Others just peeked and gossiped amongst their friends as they stared at the outfits that you and Ten adorned.

“What else do you expect from people who sleep around with drug dealers” you and Ten overheard a girl say as the two of you made your way over the kitchen for drinks.

“Drug Dealers ? Geez that’s the first” Ten scoffed and sifted for a cider in the cooler.

“None of that bothers you does it ?” You smiled, intrigued as the cat-eyed boy barely noticed a few people checking him out from behind the counter.

Ten handed you a drink and leaned up against the counter taking a sip of the cold liquid before shrugging,

“Why should I let it bother me ? It’s not like their lives are interesting that I want to fit in with them, I mean their lives revolve around talking shit about me” Ten giggled and took another sip of his drink.

His confidence was extremely attractive and his words resonated with you. It made you wonder if maybe you thought too much about it at times even though you didn’t care to conform to society norms of an average varsity student. Hanging out with Ten for just one day already gave you more life, more energy than anyone prior in your university. Ten wasn’t hesitant to show you that he felt the same way either. To him it was fate that he had sat next to you earlier today because he finally found someone worth keeping his attention.

“There’s something about you y/n I just feel like we get each other” he scratched his head and looked over at you, “it’s so easy just hanging out with you without feeling so fucking drained.”

“I feel the exact same way, like don’t get me wrong I like hanging out with the likes of Yuta and that guy Hendery in our class, but it’s different with you” You grabbed Tens hand and he squeezed your hand tightly,

“Here’s to tolerating only each other.”

You and Ten toasted and downed the last of the cider before heading to the dance floor filled with people who either despised you or wanted to be you.

As the two of you danced it felt like the room was moving in slow motion, the mixture of the smoke filled room to the loud music and alcohol in your system made you feel euphoric. As you danced the night away, you had no idea when you and Ten had separated on the dance floor but a sudden tug on your arm snapped you out of your daydream to face a harsh reality.

Jinyoung.

“Please leave me alone” you groaned as he wrapped his arms around your waist and placed his mouth against your ear,

“Baby I’m sorry when are we going to put all that shit behind us ?” He groaned, slipping his hands to your sides and squeezed gently.

“You cheated on me asshole did you forget ?” You shrugged out of his grip and pushed by the bodies of people trying to make your way to the backyard for fresh air.

The small garden was filled with people having intimate conversations and someone throwing up in a bush at the back. Normal house party shenanigans.

You rolled your eyes when you noticed Jinyoung had followed you out already trying to put his hands on you once again. “Would you stop ? Why don’t you run after the girl you had in your bed when we were together” you spat and headed for a bench.

“You know what, keep resisting, that’s why your ass is sitting here alone” Jinyoung retorted and pushed his way back into the party.

You groaned and sat on the empty seat far away from the party, finally able to hear yourself think and breath in fresh air. You were about to slip back into a calmer state when you felt someone drop in the seat next to you and as your thoughts expected it was Jinyoung, it ended up being a boy you had never seen before.

“Hi, sorry I didn’t mean to startle you” the boy said, his big round eyes sparkled under the night sky. His body was petite like Ten but he was broader in the shoulder department and had the most innocent face you’d ever seen.

“Oh it’s not a problem” you replied, still taking in his striking features. The boy brought a small metal flask to his lips and took a shot before offering the drink to you,

“It’s tequila” he smiled and you mouthed a thank you before shooting back a bit of the drink and handed it back to him.

“I’m y/n….I haven’t seen you around before” you quizzed as the boy set down his flask and ran his fingers through his blonde hair.

“I’m Taeyong, I’m actually new here” he replied and wet his lips with his tongue, “I’ll start in the art and design department on Monday.”

“I’m in that department, well welcome to hell” you grinned and held out your hand. Taeyong grinned and took your hand in his and gave you a firm handshake before scooting closer. As much as you convinced yourself he had the most adorable and innocent face you’d ever seen, there was a hint of mischief in his eyes.

“I just came here to get drunk and get laid but like everyone’s looking at me weird” Taeyong goofily laughed and you joined in, “can’t help you there, I’ve been in that position for a few months now” Taeyongs eyebrows raised at your words and jumped to his feet, holding out his hand for you to take,

“We both have nothing better to do so let’s get wasted.”

You and Taeyong set up a couple shots and downed everything in one go, not bothering about anyone around you or what they had to say. Taeyong was hilarious, his face was animated as he talked which made you laugh, something about him drew you in like a moth to a flame.

The two of you went from casual talk to dancing together and you didn’t mind the closeness, especially when he danced so fucking well against your body. You had no idea when it happened but Taeyong had spun you to face him while the two of you danced and your bodies were practically merged together as Taeyongs lips inched closer and closer until you felt him practically getting dragged away.

“Yo what the fuck man” Taeyong shouted as Jinyoung had a fist full of Taeyongs shirt and escorted him outside. A few people pushed past you to see the commotion before you processed what the hell had just happened.

Making your way through the curious crowd you watched as Taeyong and Jinyoung squared up in the middle of the garden for everyone to see.

“What the hell are you doing with my girl, man ?” Jinyoung shoved Taeyong who stumbled back, the alcohol not helping his balance in any way. You rushed toward them as Taeyong found his footing and pushed Jinyoung right back, he was definitely way stronger than he looked.

“Jinyoung I’m not your girl you moron” you snapped and tried to stand in front of Taeyong before things got any worse.

Jinyoung scoffed and took a step forward, challenging you but you stood your ground even though your head was spinning from the amount of alcohol in your system.

“You’re defending this nobody ? Y/n you’ve really hit rock bottom now haven’t you ?” Jinyoung said, loud enough for every person to hear. This was one of his traits that you hated most.

Gaslighting.

When Jinyoung knew he had lost you it resulted in insults, manipulation, making you feel like you needed him more than he needed you. But it never worked and it drove him insane.

“Hey it’s not her fault she decided to drop the dead weight in her life” Taeyong shrugged and took a step forward, “don’t worry I’ll make sure she gets satisfied in any way she wants.”

Before you could even respond Jinyoung swung at Taeyong, hitting him right in the jaw before two other men stepped in and held him back. You rushed over to check on Taeyong who instead of showing signs of anger or pain, was laughing.

Laughing with a bruise on the side of his jaw, unphased by what had just happened. Jinyoung muttered curses as the guys dragged him away from the garden and the crowds of people finally dispersed, unsatisfied with the lackluster of the fight.

“Are you okay ?” You sighed helping him up and took him to the side of the house where it was more secluded from the public. You shone your phone light to get a better look at his bruise and Taeyong winced at both the sudden light and the throb from the hit.

“I’m fine I’m fine, it’s really okay” he chuckled and leaned against the wall pulling you with until you were inches away from his face.

You had no idea why, especially considering you just saw him get hit in the face, you leaned in to kiss him. Whether it be the alcohol or the adrenaline from the fight you just found Taeyong to be so goddamn hot in this moment. Taeyong moaned into the kiss as he slipped his tongue into your mouth and massaged circles on your lower back. Your lips moved against his slowly and passionately, smirking into the kiss when he bit down on your lip cheekily.

“God there you are”

Your kiss quickly broke when you heard the high tone of Tens voice and he made his way over to you and Taeyong.

“What the hell happened, I heard that idiot Jinyoung was harassing you again and-“ Tens eyes turned to Taeyong against the wall and pointed to him with his index finger, “who the heck is this ?”

“Uh this is Taeyong, he helped me with the Jinyoung issue” you scratched your head and Taeyong half waved at Ten before clutching his jaw.

“Uhm okay” Ten pressed his lips together, “let’s go back to my dorm I’ve had enough of these Neanderthals...Taeyong you can come too.”

————————————————————————-

The three of you finally arrived at Ten’s dorm in silence. You and Taeyong shifted awkwardly in the middle of Ten’s bedroom, not knowing exactly what to do. Looking around you noticed Ten had an eye for interior design. His furniture was quite outlandish for a dorm room yet it was surprisingly homey.

“God please sit or do something you guys are making me uncomfortable” Ten groaned, kicking off his boots and discarding his shirt. Taeyong opted for the office chair near Ten’s desk and you took a seat at the very edge of Ten’s single sleeper while he lay on his back next to you on his phone.

“You guys like sushi ? I'm feeling for sushi” Ten hummed scrolling through a food ordering app completely oblivious to the awkwardness that still sat in the room.

“Sushis good” you nodded,

“Yeah I don't mind either” Taeyong added but winced when he felt the sharp, still very prominent pain in his jaw.

“Ten you got an ice pack or something ?” You sighed, jumping off the bed and rummaged through Ten’s mini fridge. “Yeah right at the back” Ten replied, still trying to place his order for the late night meal. You retrieved the ice pack and knelt down in front of Taeyong who smiled shyly as you placed the ice pack over his swollen jaw. Taeyong silently thanked you for your kindness and applied pressure to his jaw as you decided to take a seat beside his chair, to make him feel a little more comfortable in your friends bedroom.

“Okay” Ten threw his phone aside and sat up to look at the two of you with inquisitive eyes,” yall gonna tell me what happened here ?”

“Well I lost you on the dancefloor and Jinyoung found me” you began, Ten already rolling his eyes at the sound of Jinyoung’s name,

“I went outside and Taeyong approached me, he’s going to be starting at our department on Monday and he didn't know anybody, so I offered my friendship in a form of alcohol and having a good time” you smiled and Ten scoffed.

“Jinyoung saw you guys just drinking and decided to rearrange his face ?” Ten raised his eyebrow, he definitely knew there was more to it considering the two of you were sucking each other's faces off in a dark alley.

“Okay so we were quite close, and honestly does Jinyoung need any other reason ? He wanted to punch you this morning” you groaned.

“Yeah but I was literally fucking you in a bathroom stall with my vibrator y/n”

Taeyong’s eyes widened at Ten’s words and looked between the two of you frantically, “Wait you guys are together, I mean hooking up ? Why did you kiss me ?” he questioned while Ten just laughed it off and turned on his bluetooth speaker.

“Chill, we're not together you can have a little relationship if you want to” Ten smirked, stretching his arms above his head, “honestly if you wanna hook up now I like watching.”

“God shut up, and none of us want a relationship. We just got there to have fun and Jinyoung ruined everything” you groaned, leaning your head back against Taeyong’s leg as he finally returned to tend to his bruise.

“All this aside do you guys mind if I hang out with you ? you’re honestly the only fucking normal people on this campus” Taeyong pouted and you and Ten shared a quick glance before grinning from ear to ear.

“Okay he’s cute I get it” Ten sighed and held out his hand to Taeyong, “I'm Ten, y/n and I only started hanging out this morning, neither of us have close friends on campus and frankly everyone finds us annoying, welcome to the club.”

Taeyong smiled cutely and shook Ten’s hand, setting down his ice pack and got to his feet, “Well i'm Taeyong, I too don't give a shit what people have to say about me, I like doing whatever I want with whomever I want and I'm pretty sure after tonight people aren't gonna like me either, so I guess i'm in.”

Before you could even say your part to this little club initiation your phone began to blow up with message alerts and story updates from practically everyone on campus tagging you in a specific video.

“What the hell is going on ?” you frowned as you opened instagram and noticed that the account that everyone was tagging you in was a burner account with a few videos and two pictures. Ten and Taeyong stood on either side of you as you opened up the first video and noticed that it was taken in the hallway earlier that day with you and Ten linking arms. The second video was at the party, you and Ten dancing with each other and the video cutting to you and Taeyong dancing together. The last video on the account was a blurry video of you and Taeyong making out and Ten walking in, with the ending obviously being the three of you leaving together.

“Why is this account posting videos of us ?” Taeyong asked, noticing that he too was tagged by people who he didn't know at all. Ten pulled up the account on his own phone when the account refreshed and a new post appeared, this time it was text only.

“It's probably Jinyoung I’ll just call him and-” You were cut off by Ten grabbing your phone and tossing it on his bed, “dude what the hell ?” you protested but Ten silenced you with his finger.

“This is garbage right ? like what do our lives and how we live it got anything to do with any of these assholes ?” Ten bit down on his lip and looked between you and Taeyong, “They are so obsessed with us, wondering if the three of us are fucking right now ? really ? well let's give it to them.”

“You want the three of us to fuck ?” Taeyong quirked his eyebrow, his large eyes still hazy from the party.

“I want them to believe we are!” Ten grabbed Taeyong by his shoulders and looked back at you, “any publicity is good publicity. We get to be ourselves and we get to piss people off for free.”

“Would be pretty funny to see all of this blow up in Jinyoung's face honestly” you agreed, and Ten’s face lit up before moving his attention back to Taeyong, “What do you say pretty boy ?” Taeyong scratched his head and shrugged, “All this pretending and I don't get any action here ? doesn't feel like a win at all” You tried to hold in your laughter as Ten groaned at the blonde boy’s words and held his face between his hands before pulling him into a kiss, you watched Taeyong’s tense shoulders finally drop as he leaned more into the kiss and wrapped his hands lightly around Ten’s waist.

Ten pulled away and swiped Taeyong’s lips with his thumb, smiling at the doe-eyed boy, “we will have to make it convincing right ?”

“Okay im in” Taeyong smiled brightly and the three of you held hands in the middle of the bedroom, sharing mischievous glances with each other, anticipating the fucking whirlwind of chaos that was about to hit the campus.

“Good, well I guess the only thing left to do is upload our first post of the official poly club” Ten smirked and pulled the both of you onto his bed. Ten sat in between you and Taeyong and turned on the video mode of instagram stories. First he showed his face then turned to you, pulling you into a soft sensual kiss before moving to Taeyong next to him and did the same. After breaking the kiss with Taeyong, Ten nudged you to move over to the other side of him, putting you right onto Taeyongs lap. Ten focused on the two of you as you lifted Taeyong’s chin with your index finger and bit down on his lip, slightly pulling, teasing him as he brought his hand up to wrap around your neck. Ten zoomed in as you and Taeyong shared a very scandalous kiss for everyone to see. Your tongues darting in each other's mouth while the music drowned out your subtle moans.

“Done!” Ten chirped and uploaded his story, making sure to tag the burner account in every single clip. There was no going back now and every moment of this escapade excited you. The comfort you felt around Ten and Taeyong was something that you’d been craving for a long time. As cheesy as it was to say, and especially since it was only Day One, they felt like your soulmates.

“Man I fucking love this campus” Taeyong threw his head back and groaned while you and Ten burst out laughing.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Monday quickly approached and as soon as you and Ten stepped on campus all eyes were on you. It gave you an incredible sense of confidence and you had no idea why. Heads turned with every step, everyone was whispering as the two of you walked hand in hand through the hallway keeping your head up high and not giving a shit about anyone. Taeyong was waiting for you guys at the end of the hall, adorning a buttoned down printed shirt and ripped jeans that snatched his waist in the right way. Taeyong was leaning against the wall with a lollipop in his mouth and dark sunglasses while everyone who passed him did a double take.

“Hey babes” he smirked and placed a kiss on your cheek and Tens before joining your walk towards your first class for the day.

It was so surreal going from everyone ignoring your existence to every single person watching the three of you, anticipating what was going to happen next. You found your seats in the middle of the lecture, giving everyone the best possible view of course. The professor cleared his throat to get everyone's attention and Ten tried to stifle a laughter as the people who stated they didn't give a shit about you guys clearly paid a lot of attention now.

“Give them a show bestie” Ten whispered in your ear before gesturing to Taeyong who sat on the other side of you, slumped down in his seat with his legs spread apart deliciously. You nodded and slowly reached over to Taeyong, caressing his thigh and he bit down on his lip while keeping his eyes on the lecture slides in front of him. You noticed two guys shuffling behind you and one pulled out his phone, waiting to record the next escapade of the campus’s new favourite stars.

You danced your fingers up Taeyong’s thigh and inched closer to rest your hand on his crotch as his breathing hitched. Leaning forward you made your movements less suspicious to the professor and everyone around you except the camera that was now focusing on your actions. Taeyong sunk further in the chair awaiting for you to quit teasing him and touch him where he needed you most. You obliged to his needs and palmed him through his jeans and you heard the guy behind you curse under his breath as you began rubbing Taeyong’s member. It felt so fucking powerful to do whatever you wanted after being so cautious on this campus for so long. The ironic part was all that shit about you being notorious on campus was a fucking lie. No you weren't a saint but you were not sleeping around every other day since you hated about 90% of the people that attended the university. Now with that burner account claiming to know more about your sex life than you did, what was holding you back now from doing what you wanted ?

Taeyong undid the button on his jeans and pulled down his zip enough for you to slip your hands inside his pants with ease. A gasp from Ten made a shiver run down your spine, coming to your senses that you were giving Taeyong a handjob in the middle of a 10am lecture.

“Shit he's walking up” you chuckled and pulled your hand out of Taeyong’s pants and quickly pretended to be involved in your studies as the professor began walking around the room. Taeyong groaned loud enough for most of the front row to turn around and look at him in annoyance.

“Is something wrong Mr Lee ?” The professor raised his eyebrow as Taeyong quickly redid his pants and hid his prominent boner from his professor.

“One of the questions is a little….hard” Taeyong groaned while you and Ten covered your mouths trying to hide your laughter.

The professor shook his head and went on his way as you and Ten watched Taeyong struggle with his boner for the next thirty minutes of the class. Finally the lecture wrapped up and as soon as the three of you made your way to the hallway you felt Taeyong tug on your arm and began leading you into the girls bathroom, into the nearest stall. A few girls in the bathroom frowned at Ten sauntering into the bathroom straight after, setting down his bag on the counter and began fiddling with his hair.

“Uh this is the girls bathroom ?” a girl snapped, folding her arms and made eye contact with Ten through the mirror.

“So what ? I saw a vag before love, and just because i'm a guy doesn't mean I want yours” Ten shrugged and the girl cursed and stormed out of the bathroom. Meanwhile your mouth was practically merged with Taeyong’s as he pressed his still very hard member against your stomach and nibbled on your bottom lip.

“Was giving me blue balls for thirty minutes worth all of that ?” Taeyong growled as he grabbed your ass roughly, causing you to moan in his mouth. “I'm sorry baby let me make it up to you” you purred and dropped to your knees while Taeyong braced himself against the ceramic wall for what’s to come.

You undid Taeyongs jeans and pulled it down along with his boxers, allowing his member to spring free still hard as ever. You looked up at him, eyes big as you began stroking him slowly before spitting on his tip in order to lubricate him.

“Fucking hell” Taeyong yelled.

A girl on the outside jumped at his words and looked back at the stall then looked at Ten, who was just waiting on the two of you.

“Exam season huh ?” Ten pressed his lips together as the awkward girl quickly dried her hands and rushed out of the bathroom as soon as possible.

You began bobbing your head on Taeyongs member, fully taking him until he reached the back of your throat causing you to gag. Taeyong marveled at the way your plump lips wrapped around his tip, he couldn't help but grab your hair and slowly pull you off him just to take in the sight of your messed up lipstick. You gave him a cheeky smirk before locking your hands behind your back and giving him full control of his movements. Taeyong took full control, his dark eyes narrowed and he sucked his bottom lip between his teeth before thrusting inside of you at a rapid pace. You felt your throat burn at the way he fucked your mouth rapidly but it turned you on so much that you waited until he finally came inside your mouth and you swallowed every bit of him. Taeyong pulled you to your feet and kissed you passionately, his tongue tasting remnants of himself.

“Thanks baby” Taeyong cooed in your ear before exiting the stall, stuffing himself back into his pants while a few girls looked at him absolutely horrified. You followed him, neatening your hair and washing off your mouth and borrowed a lip balm from Ten.

“Had fun you two ?” Ten smirked, leaning against the sink as you and Taeyong made yourself a little more presentable before making your way out of the bathroom. Upon exiting the three of you noticed the two guys who were filming in the lecture room quickly run after you.

“Don't we get the ending to what went down in the lecture room ?” the one boy snickered like an immature school child as his friend kept the camera on the three of you making your way out of the art department block,

“She swallowed, the end” Taeyong threw his arms around both you and Ten leaving both boys dumbstruck at his words.

You playfully nudged Taeyong who just shot you a cheeky smile as you made your way to a little bench under a willow tree. This was where you usually sat on your own, when you didn't have the energy to socialize with the rest of the art students. Now, it felt a little more complete with Ten and Taeyong accompanying you.

“So my lovelies there's this afterparty happening after the final football game of the season next month” Ten said twirling his ice coffee in his hand as he took in the afternoon sun.

“What do you have in mind ?” you crinkled your nose as you sifted through your unappetizing salad in a box.

“Okay so you guys heard of Onlyfans right ?” Ten looked between you and Taeyong.

“That site that pays for nudes and shit ?” Taeyong quizzed and Ten nodded brightly and leaned in, “I was thinking let's capitalize a bit of this leading up to the party” Ten responded and pulled up an invitation on his phone,

“The afterparty is being held at Jinyoung’s frat house, him and his idiotic friends are making people pay in order to decorate their football recreational room or some stupid shit like that.”

You took a closer look at the invite and rolled your eyes at the ridiculous pricing, as if their parties were worth going to anyway. Jinyoung was incredibly full of himself and he knew a lot of people worshipped him on campus thanks to his parents being higher ups and the poster boy for the football team. Going for his pride, knocking him where it hurts would be fucking bliss.

“We open an onlyfans, nothing too scandalous but it's gonna get people interested enough to pay forward and we use that cash to host our own party on the same night, free entrance of course” Ten continued and already started setting up the OnlyFans account.

“We should make the party crazy as hell too so nobody would resist coming over” Taeyong added and began going through his contacts, “there's this guy called Seungyoun, he’s a fourth year and knows that DJ from that enigma club from downtown.”

“That's perfect, and we will get Yuta and his tattooist buddies to do temporary sets for us, also my friend Chaeyoung in fashion can help with decor” Ten squealed, already messaging whoever he can.

“My friend Hendery has...uh happy pills if you're interested” you mentioned, knowing that everyone knew Hendery on campus for selling shit, not strong stuff but able to keep you going for a good amount of time.

“Yes! Anything to create hype and watch those preppy idiots sit in an empty house come game night” Ten replied and showed off the OnlyFans page he attached to his instagram account.

“Okay, so what now ?” Taeyong’s large eyes looked between the two of you.

“Now” Ten threw his phone in his bag and got to his feet, “we go back to my dorm and take some naughty pics.”

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“I don't think my ass looks good in that” you whined as you got off Taeyong’s lap and took a look at Ten’s camera viewfinder. Taeyong grumbled, sitting in nothing but leather pants on Ten’s office chair, “your ass looks great trust me” he smirked and reached to pull you back onto his lap.

“Come on, just a few more then you can take pics of Taeyong and I” Ten pointed his ring light where Taeyong had a grip on your ass that adorned very pretty pink lingerie. After a few more angles and more compromising positions, Ten finally got what he needed and handed you the camera,

“Make us look cute” He winked and pulled Taeyong to his feet.

“What are we gonna-” Taeyong’s words were cut off by Ten shoving his hand down his pants, “okaaaay” Taeyong pressed his lips together as you began snapping pics of the two of them.

They were so beautiful to you. Every picture you snapped looked better than the last and they needed no direction at all, just enveloped each other with their ridiculous sexual energy, filling the room with their pheromones.

“Done, you guys look sexy as fuck” you purred earning a kiss from Taeyong who was obviously horny from the entire ordeal, but when the fuck was his dick not hard.

You felt yourself being tugged away and Taeyong whined when Ten handed the camera to him and pushed you down to lie on his bed. You felt a shiver run down your spine when Ten positioned himself between your legs and moved his body down until his face was level with your core.

“Taeyong, stand above y/n and shoot down from this angle” Ten instructed to which Taeyong obeyed and his shadow casted over you.

Ten leaned in and kissed you softly on your mound as the room echoed with the camera shutters and your deep breaths. You desperately wanted to run your fingers through his hair but you’d only ruin a perfect shot. It was agonizing but you had to stay still while Ten had his way with you.

Ten moved the piece of fabric to the side and peppered kisses all along your inner thigh and around your core. You were unable to see his face thanks to Taeyong hovering over you but you pictured that smug smile spread across his face as you restrained yourself. You sucked in another deep breath when you felt his tongue dart out and take a slow lick before placing his mouth on your mound and ate you out like an expert.

“Fucking hell” you sighed as you felt his tongue inside you, exploring every part imaginable. You could tell the scene was getting to Taeyong too, as he stood there one hand on the camera and the other hand on his hardened member, watching Ten eat you out.

“Did you get the shots ?” Ten suddenly said, pulling away from your core as you squirmed out of protest.

“Uh..yeah I did,” Taeyong muttered, still staring down at your legs spread wide apart and his member practically screaming through his restricted pants.

“I hope you're not planning to wrap this shit up right now Ten” you groaned, reaching your hand down to your core in order to finish what he had left off.

Ten snickered and slapped your hand away, “of course my lovelies, I never quit a job halfway.” Ten gestured for Taeyong to stand next to the bed while he inserted a finger in you, causing you to moan his name out loud. As you got accustomed to his finger you managed to sit up a little and watched as Ten rubbed Taeyong’s boner through his pants. God you had never been in a situation like this before. How the hell did you get so lucky, meeting two men willing to fuck you and each other.

Ten entered another finger inside you as Taeyong undid his pants and Ten’s mouth was pressed against Taeyong’s member while pumping his length. Taeyong’s eyes were on your figure as he moaned when Ten took him fully in and his fingers were now destroying your core.

“God im so close” Taeyong whined and Ten slowly took his length out of his mouth and looked up at him and then down at you,

“I think you should cum on y/n, she wants it” Ten licked his lips and looked at you with hooded eyes.

“Y-yeah Taeyong….just do it” you squirmed as Ten’s fingers slowed down, holding you back from your orgasm.

Taeyong uttered a few curses and Ten quickly returned to pumping his member until he was at his breaking point. Ten removed his hand from Taeyong and gave you his full attention, attaching both his mouth and three of his fingers inside of your core. Taeyong stood over you with dark eyes as you reached out to run your hand down his exposed thigh.

Taeyong grunted as he released, you felt the warm liquid all over your stomach and breasts while Ten was still recklessly fingering you until you had one of the craziest orgasms of your life. You couldn't process when Taeyong had pressed his lips to yours and Ten had left to get tissues for the mess the three of you made.

“That was some content our viewers missed out on” Taeyong sighed, still trying to catch his breath. You chuckled and went over to the bathroom to quickly shower off the mess and returned in Ten’s oversized shirt, taking a seat between the two of them in bed.

“Okay I uploaded a few previews and linked the onlyfans subscription link” Ten announced as he uploaded three of the explicit versions on the paid side of Onlyfans, “we will get a notification when someone has subscribed and our earnings are on this page.”

The three of you sat, mouths dropped open as you watched subscription after subscription start to fill the page. The comments were flooding in too, and someone even left a hefty tip in a matter of minutes. Ten switched to the earnings page and the account was already sitting at a triple digit.

“What the actual fuck” you gasped as more people began visiting the page and your followings on instagram began skyrocketing.

“This was way easier than I thought it was” Taeyong marveled, also noticing many people start dming him on instagram.

“Well Jinyoung and his goons wanted a party, well here’s the party of the fucking century” Ten smirked and hi5ed the both of you as absolute chaos ensued all over social media in real time.

Just like that in the next couple of days the three of you were watched by the entire campus. It was like Jinyoung wanted. To show the campus that you were notorious, and nobody should get involved with any of you. But that's where his plan was flawed.

Every single person on the campus besides his legion of preppy followers were obsessed with the three of you and craved more. Despite the onlyfans pictures containing no nudity, people still subscribed, they still tipped, they would do anything to see more.

It was in the middle of the afternoon and Ten had confirmed the account had garnered enough money for the party. It had been about three weeks since the very first post on the onlyfans account and now the account stood at a staggering 850 subscribers, each paying for the monthly subscribed content plus tipping generously from time to time. In the midst of all of this the three of you were also preparing for the party that was going to be held on the big day. Taeil, a friend of Taeyong's, allowed you to use his frat house for the event since it would look good for student rentals later on. Yuta and his friends prepared alcohol and a temporary tattoo station to appease drunk girls to get matching tattoos and frat boys to bet their friends to tattoo a dick on their faces. Chaeyoung, Ten’s friend from fashion completely transformed the house into an instagrammable masterpiece, channeling one of those fancy hollywood parties that nobody could ever get into. Seungyoun, the fourth year who was friends with a lot of musicians and DJs from downtown spread the word on campus radio, letting everyone know about Ten’s huge announcement that was about to happen Tuesday afternoon, 2:30PM.

“Alright you thirsty hoes, I see you all made it” Ten said into a karaoke microphone he found from God knows where. Ten got up on the table in the courtyard, standing in front of a huge crowd of students who quickly gathered ready for the grand announcement that was the talk of the town for the last week now.

“We would just like to say that we're so grateful for all your support on our….craft and in order to honor that, were going to host the best party of the fucking semester” Ten shouted while people cheered from the front all the way to the back of the crowd.

“If you look at the link under Ten’s instagram bio, it should take you to a little preview of what’s in store come saturday” Taeyong explained, leaning into the mic while the crowd murmured in confusion.

“Saturday after the big game ? Isn't Jinyoung having a party that night ?” someone in the crowd said followed by more confused chatter.

“That's right, I am having a party after the game” Jinyoung said, moving through the crowd accompanied by two of his frat members and sneered at the sight of the three of you,

“What ? Are you guys planning an orgy or something for your onlyfans ?”

“If you want to suck my dick all you gotta do is ask Jinyoung” Taeyong mused and a few people giggled while Jinyoung shifted uncomfortably and gritted his teeth.

“Listen, you freaks are not having a party on the same night as me” Jinyoung spat and took a step forward, “save yourself the embarrassment of nobody showing up and cancel it.”

You approached him slowly, chuckling darkly as he watched your fingers dance up his arm and up to his jaw, caressing his cheek, “Sweety are you threatened ? You're afraid everybody is gonna ditch your little frat party and come to mine ?”

Jinyoung tried keeping his cool while you stared up at him, playing with him like a little toy in front of everyone to see.

“Are you afraid if people come over i'm going to hook up with everyone who gives me attention ?” Jinyoung avoided your eyes when you recited the words he wrote about you on that burner account. You smirked up at him when you noticed how he still wasn't man enough to own up to his actions.

“Well, our party is FREE by the way” you continued, stepping away and now addressed the crowd in front of you, “So if you’d rather go over to Jinyoungs then go ahead, but if you wanna come play with us…”

You walked up to Taeyong and gave him a sloppy kiss as he grabbed your ass in front of the entire campus to see, “we will see you Saturday night.” The crowd cheered and Jinyoung growled, taking one more glare at you before storming off with his frat boys away from the cheering crowds.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

It was D day and everyone who helped with the party gathered in the kitchen, drink in hand and took a final glance back at the rager that was mere minutes away from opening up.

“I can't thank you all enough, actually I did, with all that onlyfans money” Ten stuck his tongue out and Seungyoun whistled while everyone clapped.

“No but seriously, thank you guys….revenge never felt sweeter” you smiled and Hendery put his arm around you as you leaned into him, “if nobody shows up well more for us!”

“Cheers, freaks¨" Taeyong yelled and Ten nudging him in his abdomen,

“Really ? I'm pretty sure Jinyoung’s little nickname for us isn't a compliment” Ten rolled his eyes playfully.

“Its a compliment to us, fuck it im a freak and proud of it” Yuta raised his glass, and a few others joined in.

“Fine Freaks club it is, cheers everyone!” Ten raised his glass and everyone clinked glasses before downing their respectful drinks.

It wasn't long before people began pouring in, it wasn't a large number but it was still something. Most people were from the music and arts departments, and you noticed a few girls from your business lecture drop by as well.

“You think the rest all went to Jinyoung ?” You bit down on your lip as you and Ten monitored the crowds of people while having a drink.

“Maybe ? doesn't matter though, our party is way cooler” Ten shrugged and threw back his drink, “but if you really want me to pull one last move hey just say the word.”

You looked over at the black haired boy and frowned while a cheeky smile spread across his face and he pulled out his phone. You watched him text a few paragraphs and slip his phone in his back pocket before returning to his drink.

About 20 minutes later Taeyong emerged from the crowd to join the two of you in the kitchen, a confused look spread across his face.

“What's wrong ?” you quizzed him.

“Some of those basketball guys are here, they brought over like fifty more people” Taeyong pointed to the entrance and you and Ten watched the guys who the campus worshipped next to the football team enter the party, followed by their fangirls and whoever else wished to be in their presence.

“What the heck did you do ?” your eyes widened as the small party now turned into a whole fucking campus rager.

“Oh I told Johnny Suh that I'd give him a lap dance in front of everyone if he came over with his friends” Ten smiled, waving at the tall brown haired boy with a goofy grin spread across his face.

“Johnny Suh ?! as in the captain of the varsity basketball team ?” you were still confused as to how and when Ten had started talking to one of the most popular guys on campus.

“Yes him, now if you would excuse me, I have a deal to seal” you and Taeyong watched Ten down his drink and make his way over to the lounge where Johnny stood excitedly.

Ten spoke to the DJ and the DJ had the crowd clear up the center of the room while everyone exchanged confused glances as to what the hell was about to go down. Ten placed a chair in the middle of the room and pushed Johnny’s large frame down until he was seated, legs apart and that goofy smile never leaving his face. His teammates whistled as Ten used a piece of cloth to cover Johnny’s eyes, and took off his belt in order to retrain his hands behind his back.

“I gotta give it to Ten, he sure knows how to put on a show” Taeyong wrapped his arm around your waist as the two of you watched Ten fuck around with the captain of the basketball team.

The room was filled with flashing lights, everyone recording the moment as Ten gave Johnny the lap dance he was promised. Johnny slumped in the chair allowing Ten to grind into his hips, and you're pretty sure if the music wasn't so goddamn loud the whole campus would've heard Johnny moan in Ten’s touch. Ten ended it off with a cheeky kiss and untied Johnny, whose face was absolutely red as all of his friends cheered them on, all of them attacking him with hi5s.

That definitely sealed the deal, because after a few uploads of the clip, almost everyone was at your party and Jinyoung’s was most likely empty right now. The party was so big that people were on the street, everybody having the time of their life.

“We did it” Ten threw his arms around you and Taeyong as you stood on the balcony, overlooking the party from above.

“Yeah, we really did” you chuckled and sighed deeply, “I wish I could look at Jinyoung’s face right now.”

“Oh you didn't see ?”

You and Ten turned to Taeyong as he pulled out his phone and scrolled through his gallery. You and Ten burst out laughing when a video of Jinyoung sitting in his empty estate with a few of his preppy friends looking absolutely miserable.

“Fuck thats brilliant” you leaned your head on Ten’s shoulder, completely satisfied with how the night turned out.

“Hey you guys wanna go back to my dorm ? I'm kinda over this” Ten yawned and placed a peck on your forehead.

“You wanna leave your own party ?” Taeyong scoffed, shoving his hands in his pocket.

“This” Ten gestured to the three of you, “This is my party, let's take it back to my room.”

You and Taeyong both obliged and without anyone knowing the three of you escaped the party and made your way over to Ten’s dorm room hand in hand. Upon entering Ten threw off his shirt and kicked off his boots and Taeyong did the same, the two boys grabbing alcohol from the mini fridge and set them up on Tens desk.

“Oh by the way I have something” your words had both the boys turn to face you and you held out your hand, holding three small blue pills,

“Hendery gave them to me, Its not that strong and the high will only last for an hour or two but fuck its good way to end the night off right ?”

“I'm in” Taeyong grabbed the pill and handed you a drink, the three of you washed the pill with beer and Ten switched on a playlist before joining you and Taeyong on his bed.

“I know we've only known each other for like 2-3 months now but I fucking love you guys” you sighed, running your hands through your hair and looked between the two boys.

“This group, us, was the best thing that ever happened to me” Taeyong replied, “you two whores mean the world to me.” “Very sentimental Taeyong” Ten chuckled before reaching out to caress your cheek, “I love you too babe, both of you, were soulmates, if like the devil decided to link people together or something.”

The three of you chuckled and the laughter quickly switched to Taeyong rubbing Ten’s thigh and looked over at you with dark eyes. You had no idea if it was the drug, or the alcohol but there was a desperation within you. Grabbing Taeyong’s face, you pulled him into a sloppy kiss, and quickly switched to Ten, giving him the same energy as Taeyong pushed your shirt over your head and sucked on your exposed skin.

Ten unclasped your bra and massaged your breast as Taeyong kissed the other, each boy stimulating you in the best way possible. Taeyong growled and tossed you onto your back, pulling your skirt off and began sharing a passionate kiss with Ten who was already down to his boxers.

Once Taeyong pulled away from Ten he moved on top of you, grabbing you by your throat and rubbed his hips against your core, the friction sending you into a frenzy. Your thoughts were so focused on Taeyong you had no idea when Ten had got on his knees beside you and began kneading your breasts and rubbing his length with his free hand.

“Who do you wanna fuck first ?” Taeyong growled in your ear that made you so wet you had no fucking clue who you wanted, you just needed someone inside of you at this moment.

“I think it's fair if I go first, I've waited long enough” Ten smirked and switched positions with Taeyong who jumped off the bed to get rid of his pants.

You watched Ten’s dark eyes take in your body, and his beautiful body looked so fucking alluring under the dim lighting of his bedroom. Ten rid you of your soaked panties and wasted no time in inserting two fingers in your wetness.

“Baby girl has been waiting for this for a while huh” Ten purred while Taeyong grabbed your jaw, pulling you into a kiss before making you sit up enough for his member to meet your lips. Just as you took Taeyong in your mouth Ten had already replaced his fingers with his member and began thrusting into you at a rapid pace.

“Oh fuck” you groaned as Taeyong guided your movements on his member with a fistful of your hair. All three of you were so in tune with each other, rough when needed to be and delicate straight after.

As Ten fucked you he leaned forward enough for Taeyong to bend down and meet his lips, the two of them sharing a dirty kiss while they fucked you senseless. Ten pulled away from Taeyong and rammed into you until you came all over his member. “Come on open wide” He mewled and pulled you up and shoved his length in your mouth until he came, making you swallow every bit of him.

“Get on top of me” Taeyong demanded and you did as he said, climbing on top of him and sitting on his length. Taeyong let out a groan, finally feeling you around his length and you felt Ten sit behind you, his hands cupping your breasts as you bounced on Taeyongs member.

“You think you can take both of us ?” Ten whispered in your ear and his request somehow made you wetter than you already were. You had only tried it once, but never in a situation like this. You quickly nodded and Ten caressed your body, leaving sweet kisses all over shoulder and neck before jumping off the bed to rummage in his closet.

Taeyong, not knowing or caring what was going on, carried on slamming himself inside of you, his nails digging into your ass as you rode him like a pro.

Ten returned with what you assumed to be a bottle of lube and bent you over slightly, making sure his touches were careful and delicate. Taeyong finally caught on and slowed his pace despite almost being at his orgasm, in order to make the process easier for you.

“If it's too much just let me know” Ten pecked your cheek and inserted a finger inside your ass, the new sensation was odd but extremely satisfying. Ten continued lubing you up while Taeyong stroked your thighs and made sure your body was relaxed in their care.

“I'm ready, just do it, I want to feel both of you already” you whined and both boys cursed at your words, each anticipating this new experience.

Ten inserted himself and gave you a moment to adjust to him and Taeyong, before slowly moving his hips, keeping his touches light.

“Oh God that feels so good” you moaned as Taeyong picked up his pace and the both of them began fucking you at the same time, something you always wished would happen eventually. Ten returned to his roughness and bent you a little more, allowing Taeyong to lean up and capture your lips, his tongue entangling with yours as the new position only got him back to chasing his raging orgasm.

“Fuck im gonna cum” Taeyong groaned, slightly mad that he couldnt hold onto this feeling any longer.

“You wanna cum inside her mouth ?” Ten asked in between his grunts as he felt himself also reaching his second orgasm.

“No I wanna cum in yours” Taeyong replied darkly, and Ten’s thrusts stopped abruptly to look down at Taeyong.

“Well...fuck okay” Ten finally said and pulled out of you, allowing Taeyong to move to the side of the bed while Ten flipped you on your back and inserted himself in your core. Taeyong stood on the bed for Ten to get better access to his length as you screamed Ten’s name who was quite literally destroying your core at this point.

Taeyong yanked on Ten’s hair causing him to slow his thrusts and you watched the delicious sight of Taeyong slipping his length into Ten’s mouth and Ten swallowing every bit of him. It was quite possibly the hottest thing you'd seen in your life. Ten wiped his mouth as Taeyong slowly pulled out of him with a groan he returned to slamming his hips into yours. “I'm so close Ten” you groaned as Ten crouched over you, allowing you to wrap your legs around his waist as he brought both of you to your climax and let out a huge sigh when he finally came undone with you following shortly after.

“How much money do you think we would've made on onlyfans for that ?” Ten breathed as he collapsed in the bed next to you and Taeyong crawled on your naked body, resting his head on your chest as the three of you tried to catch your breath.

“Probably enough to drop out” Taeyong hummed, his eyes drooping as he made himself a little more comfortable.

“Yeah but hey it's time to end the notorious onlyfans account now don't you think ?” your eyes shifted to Ten who nodded at your words and got up and grabbed his phone from his desk,

“Tae-Ten-Y/N onlyfans era has now come to an end, thank you everyone who tuned in” Ten said, falling back into bed and showing the account that was now deactivated.

“Kinda surprised you are willing to end the onlyfans era Ten, this doesn't have anything to do with Johnny Suh now does it ?” Taeyong raised his eyebrow and you also joined in, looking at the black haired boy with curious eyes.

“Maybe,” Ten sighed, rolling his eyes as you and Taeyong mimicked kissing sounds, “Ugh anyway, they have a game next week, I want you guys to come with.”

“Fine, i’ll ask Johnny how it felt to taste my c-”

“Shut up Taeyong.”

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

ONE WEEK LATER

“I have no idea what the hell is going on but Johnny is so hot” Ten sighed as the three of you sat in the bleachers of a varsity basketball game.

“Athletes are not my type these days” you shrugged taking a bite of your corn dog, watching Taeyong play some game on his phone.

“Oh shit they're almost there” Ten pulled you to your feet as the crowd all stood up around you cheering on the varsity team as the time began running out. You watched Johnny run across the court and throw the ball to a boy with chestnut coloured hair, and upon receiving the ball, the boy threw the ball straight into the hoop at the last second, taking his team to victory.

“Fuck….who is he ?” you gulped, as his teammates carried him on their shoulders and his lips curled into a tight grin, showing off a beautiful set of dimples. “That my dear friend” Ten patted your shoulder, “That's Jung Jaehyun.”

#nct smut #wayv smut #nct scenarios #wayv scenarios #taeyong smut #ten smut #taeten smut #taeten #jaehyun freaks au #freaks au #nct x reader #taeyong x reader #ten x reader #nct au #wayv au #nct fanfic

583 notes · View notes

mae-gi-writes · 3 years

Text

Yūgen | Sunwoo (The Boyz)

Yugen (n.) a profound, mysterious sense of the beauty of the universe that triggers a deep, emotional response.

Requested by anon! In which Sunwoo, the ace of the volleyball team, is curious about what you’re drawing all the time. Until one day, he stumbles upon a drawing of himself made from yours truly.

Genre: fluff, volleyball player! Sunwoo and art student reader, shy love, softness, and inspired by haikyuu because I have been obssessed with the anime lately TT__TT A/N: It feels like it’s been ages since I’ve posted here! Slowly but surely, I’m going through my inbox and replying to your requests. Thank you for your patience, stay safe loves, ily all xx

-----

Sunwoo wasn't artistically inclined.

But that never stopped him from admiring those that were. He was always so curious as to how just a flick of fingers managed to create a shadow, or how just one glance at a subject made it through onto paper without so much as an effort to remember the details. It was like it was automatically recorded into one's brain, hands already registered to mimic the curves and the folds and the shadows that turned into nothing short of a miraculous piece. So when he caught sight of someone drawing, it always piqued his interest. He stumbled upon you one late afternoon after his volleyball practice, with sweat dotting his forehead and his training bag slung casually over his shoulder. He was about to direct his way to the parking lot upon exiting the gymnasium, only to spot a lone figure huddled upon the bleachers and curled into a ball that caused Sunwoo to frown. Slowly sidling up to the stranger in question and peeking over the railing to catch a glimpse of your face, his eyes are instantly driven to the sketchpad in your hands.

You didn't notice him though, so absorbed in your own world with earphones blocking out reality that a tsunami could've gone unnoticed. So Sunwoo took advantage to climb over onto the opposite bleacher and, after ensuring that your back wouldn't turn to greet him, leaned over the separation to catch sight of a lone figure cartwheeling freely over the page. Woah. You were talented alright. There was nothing else to describe the fluidity of movement you caught with your pencil. It made Sunwoo's breath catch in his throat. He had the sudden urge to know exactly what kind of face hid behind the visual mastery manifesting before his very eyes. After all, there must be other things for them to see rather than the boring literal reality that most people settled for. What kind of imageries were they creating in their heads? What beautiful stories were they crafting? Worlds they got lost in? You moved then, causing Sunwoo to jolt back and scurry away with his heart beating out of his chest, deciding that it was enough spying for the day. After that day, he made sure to seek you out every time after practice although he noticed you never strayed too long in the same place, always moving about like a shadow lingering in the corner, invisible yet omniscient. Sometimes you would find a quiet spot in a patch of sunlight by the tennis courts. Sometimes you'd be found on the bleachers, alert eyes observing every pass, every move, every twist of a body like camera taking everything in. Sunwoo never approached you. Not that he didn't want to, but he found it awkward to just come up to you and present himself as the guy who'd been stalking your drawings. So he admired you from afar instead, relished in the passion of your dark coffee coloured eyes and in the attentive focus dipping your eyebrows in a soft frown, lips paeted slightly in concentration. "Do you know her?" He'd asked one of his friends from the volleyball team once, during their lunch break as he saw you line up at the cafeteria. Changmin took a peek at your face before he shook his head, "she might be in one of my electives." "Which one?" "I think it's art." Sunwoo forced his face to remain in a mask of calmness as he grabbed a steak sandwich, no fries, "do you know her name?" "Nah. I don't think she's ever spoken in class," Changmin's eyebrows quirk up then, "why'd you ask?" "No reason." Changmin's pointed look defined anything but that. Although he did have the decency to drop the subject as soon as the rest of the volleyball team joined the table. Sunwoo got his answer a few days later when he practically toppled over you and your drawing crayons. It was his mistake. He'd been leaning too far out from the top of the basketball bleachers, struggling to get even the smidgest glimpse of what amazing piece of art hiding under your jacket sleeve, only for his foot to slip. Down he went with a curse, crashing straight into your body and quickly scrabbling to wrap his arms around your head, a pathetic attempt to cushion your fall as you fell into a heap in front of the bleachers. "You--you okay?" He huffed out, breathless and heart beating like a time bomb. Pulling his arms away slowly, gently, he finally met your gaze straight on and --oh my, your eyes were not coffee coloured at all. But more of a honey-brown, wide open and framed by soft lashes. Currently dilated in panic. "I'm fine! What--What about you? Oh gosh, I'm so sorry--" "No it was my fault," he made a grab for your sketchbook and scattered pens only for his orbs to register the face messily etched onto the paper. His breath caught. For a minute, he could do nothing but stare at the replica of his face made in charcoal. Those were his eyes, his slightly crooked nose. The scowl he wore during his soccer matches. That was him. The resemblance was akin to that of perfection. That was before your hands snatched away the sketchbook before you quickly slammed it closed, cheeks blazing red, "that's-- I swear I"m not a creep, I-- I just do that for practice--" "It's amazing." Your head-- which had been bowed this entire time for fear that anger would be his response -- shot up in surprise, "what?" "It's amazing," Sunwoo repeated. He wouldn't mind repeating it forever, he realized, if that meant he got to see that aforable blush of yours. He reached out with his hand, "can I look at it again?" So you allowed him after some slight hesitation, and if he noticed, he didn't comment. Fingers brushing against yours slightly, he handled the sketchbook with utmost care as he flipped through the pages with child-like awe. He'd seen your drawings, sure, but mere glimpses here and there, a sneak peek, always accompanied with the fear of being found. But now, he could take his time and actually relish in the soft tracings of your crayon, admire the gentle shadings that made up the tip of his nose. You had managed to capture that frown -- the one he used whenever he concentrated -- to perfection and for a minute he swore he'd fallen in love with himself. "You're really good," he murmured, though that definitely banalized the array of praises popping through his head, "you should keep doing them. I mean it." "So, you're not--" you paused, "mad?" "Well I think you'd have more reason to be mad if you knew I was stalking you from before." "What?" Oh Sunwoo, you idiot. Your eyes had tripled their size and you were looking at him like he'd just grown a second head. He lifted his hands as defence, "that sounded so much better in my head. I swear I'm not that creepy, or a stalker, I just--well you're always drawing and I got curious but I can't really come over and tell you to show me so I had to hide and peek and--" You burst out laughing in his face and despite the fact that he was the cause, he couldn't help joining in with a small chuckle, a grin spreading across his features at how alive you looked at this very moment. "You can ask me next time," your grin settled into a soft smile, "I don't bite." "Your words, not mine," he said, tone lighter and teasing. He helped you gather your belongings and as the pair of you started towards the school gates, he asked for your name. "Y/N," you answered, "and you?" "Sunwoo," he noticed the sky was darkening into purple, a sign that twilight was approaching. Usually, he'd be in a hurry to catch the last bus of the evening to avoid the pain of traffic after six. But it was like his body was slowing down on its own to join your pace, as if he was automatically tuning in to the rhythm of your steps. He found he didn't mind. "So why athletes? Any special reason why you like drawing them?" He asked as you reached the gates. "I just like watching the way they move. It's ...graceful," a hand went to rub the back of your neck, "and they come in handy for figure practice." "I mean, we're not that graceful when you're on the pitch ready to get blown away," he chuckled, "but thanks. At least we know we don't play like animals." "Oh god no. The volleyball team's pretty good. The rugby team on the other hand..." you sigh before you shake your head, "that team is nearly impossible to draw." His shoulders shook as he laughed, "well I don't think they aim for graceful. They look like a pack of wild dogs. Even I don't understand how they play." You had reached the said bus stop by then before you spotted your mother's car along the sidewalk, "oh, my mom's here," you turn to him, "where do you live? Maybe we can drop you--" Meeting your mom? On the first day of meeting you? Sunwoo's hands flew up, shaking them wildly in response, "oh no no, that's not necessary. I'll see you tomorrow!" Thank god for the bus that pulled up at the right time so that he didn't have to linger longer than he needed to. But he didn't miss the small wave of your hand as you watched him go, the smile on your face warming his heart even when it was one of the coldest winter days of the year. From that day onwards, Sunwoo made it a must to make his presence known whenever you were deep in your sketches, always observing, sometimes silently keeping you company and sometimes getting so wrapped up in conversation that your pens would lay forgotten by your bag as you bantered back and forth about subjects that would've made people throw you looks of concern. It became routine to have Sunwoo's head pop up from behind the bleachers or to see him walk up the path to your special hiding spot, right where your gaze would meet the tennis court. You sketched him more and more, folding your drawings into your bag so that he wouldn't see although the urge to catch his face on paper was a growing addiction you couldn't ignore. Even your friends had noticed his lingering presence, proceeding to prod you with questions reflecting their curiosity. "He's from the vòlleyball team isn't he?" Yeji asked one time during lunch, upon noticing the way the said young man's stare lingered over the back of your head before turning away just as quickly, "do you know him?" "We've spoken once or twice." "How do you know him?" Your other friend, Saeron, nudged you with a wriggle of her brows. You brushed her teasing away, "we bumped into each other and then he saw my drawings." "Oh right, you do sketch athletes," Yeji leaned forward, mouth full of bread, "did you sketch him?" "I did, actually." "Oh awkward," Saeron giggled, "he's handsome though, can't deny that. You gotta introduce us sometime." You mumbled out an agreement even though you sat with them just for the sake of having people around. It wasn't that you didn't appreciate them. You did. But they seemed to speak a language you couldn't quite grasp. You would rather sit in your own silence, enjoy your own company if that made sense. Maybe that was why it was so surprising, that you allowed Sunwoo to linger as long as he wanted to. There was something authentic about the way he reacted to your words, an unguarded expression that made you comfortable enough to speak up without fear of judgment. Spending time with Sunwoo was listening to water trickle down the river. Smooth and free. Peaceful. But Sunwoo seldom knew of your high regards, was not aware of the tiny sketch of his figure in mid-spike that was hidden in the pocket of your school skirt so that you could take a peek whenever you felt out of place or nervous. It calmed you down to admire his composure, even if his expression was a mere mimic that could not replace reality. "Do you have any material in particular that you like to use?" Sunwoo asked one cloudy afternoon, breaking the silence while huddling a little closer to peek at your newest sketch of Lee Juyeon; a basketball star player known for his quick reflexes and adept playing style. Not only was his skill on par with that of a Nationals team, but his looks had garnered him quite a fanbase from the get-go. Sunwoo would've liked to say that he wasn't jealous of the way your thumb gently applied shade to Juyeon's lower lip. But the spike in the middle of his chest proved him otherwise. "I like charcoal the most, it's the easiest to work with," pausing to admire your work, your eyes glanced over at him, "do you draw?" He scoffed, "like a five year old." "Wanna try?" "No way. I'll ruin it. I'm okay with admiring it from afar." You hummed an unknown tune as you pulled back your sketchbook, "how is practice?" "Alright. Could be better. We won a practice match last week so we're kind of taking it easy." "That's good though isn't it?" Your gaze met his. His eyes were various gradients of warm maroon and you wished-- at this very moment -- to paint his features into memory. That was when you realized how close you were. You shuffled slightly back and didn't notice the frown Sunwoo threw you in response, "it is. And I'm happy we get to rest. The team deserves it." "You're pursuing it in College?" Your eyes tried not to linger too much over his lips, "volleyball, I mean." "Depends," he smiled, though it didn't reach his eyes, "if we make it to the Nationals." "You will." "Someone's confident," he chuckled. "Well I'm no pro but even I can tell you're talented, Sunwoo," you peeked at him from behind your fringe, glad that you could blame the cold for your red cheeks when just the intensity and closeness of his entity made you want to squirm, "so if there's anyone who can do it, it's you." It was impossible to keep eye contact after such a confession. You lowered your gaze, glad for your sketchbook that acted as a distraction. It was at that very moment that the paper tucked so neatly in your pocket slipped out, causing Sunwoo to quickly make a grab for it. You made a noise of protest before trying to snatch it back, but the boy only chuckled before unfolding the creased page so that there he was, depicted in all his glory. "Is that--" his voice was hoarse and you took this as your chance to steal it from his grasp, reddened cheeks burning and fingers shaking as you folded it back to its tiny square shape, "is that me?" "Y--yes." "You--you keep that with you?" "I--I do," you lifted your chin up defiantly, though you felt your limbs trembling. His eyes, they pierced your own, piecing together a coherence that caused your stomach to fill with butterflies. When he spoke next, his words were a mere murmur. "Why?" "I--I don't know," eyes darting towards the ground, you mumbled, "I just like watching you...play." A pause. Then, Sunwoo shifted a little bit closer. "You like watching me play? Or do you like," he cocked his head, "watching me?" If you were red before then you were probably the colour of a fire engine truck by now. Averting your eyes and turning your head away were instinctive responses due to the blood rushing through your face. "Stop flirting with me," came your mumble. Laughing softly in response, he scooted himself a little closer, so close that his shoulder brushed your back. He leaned over, head tilted to catch your expression. "Cute," his lips broke out in a crooked grin and you swore you felt your heart explode. Flustered, you shoved him away out of instinct but he wasn't having any of that. His hand grabbed your wrists and with a yelp, you were dragged even closer to his chest. "You like looking at me that much huh?" His tone was teasing while his eyes glimmered with playful mischief, "why is that,Y/N?" "You ask as if you don't know," you mumbled out through jumbled words and you were glad he actually understood you. But instead of laughing some more, his features softened into a smile instead as he proceeded to gaze down at you with an expression you couldn't quite place. It was in your normal behaviour to admire people. Not the other way around. And at this very moment, you felt way out of your comfort zone. "I don't know." Your orbs flew up to his in surprise and what you found in those coffee-coloured pupils made your breath stutter, heat coiling through your abdomen. "It...it calms me down," your whisper was barely louder than a breath but by the way Sunwoo's smile widens to reach his eyes, you could tell he heard you just fine. "I like watching you too," he replied. A strand of your hair caught in the wind and he raised his hand to curl it around the back of your ear, his touch ghosting with sparks wherever flesh bumped into flesh. You felt warm. He didn't pull away. Didn't bother hiding the slight dust of pink in his cheeks either, as he slowly allowed his palm to cradle the side of your face. Gently. As if he feared you might run away, recoil back. But you didn't. Even with your breaths going staccato, even if your heart felt like a wild animal. You calmed yourself down with the knowledge that he seemed just as nervous as you were and suddenly, out of a stroke of boldness, your hand went up to hold on to his, pressing it close to your cheek. His breath hitched. You shivered. The wind blew against your figures, a gentle reminder that the day was coming to an end. You weren't exactly sure what changed that day. There were no verbal agreements, nothing that suggested your relationship had changed. Yet, the subtle touches of his hand against your back, your shoulders, moving your hair from one shoulder to another, complemented by his gentle doe-eyed stare that made your toes curl, these changes were small, but significant. And you couldn't find it in your heart to say that you disliked it. What are we? The words lingered at the tip of your tongue, as bitter as the aftertaste of coffee as you stole small glances in his direction. You were sitting comfortably under a tree that overlooked the tennis court where Sunwoo had decided to join you. He'd fallen asleep halfway through your beginning sketch and was now leaning against the tree trunk, face relaxed and body leaned towards yours, close enough that you could admire his face. Countless hours you had spent tracing Sunwoo's features on paper. Countless times you had imagined tracing his lips with your thumb, wondered whether they were as soft as they looked. Maybe it was just curiosity or maybe you had let him walk into your heart so easily that you hadn't realized it yourself. But if there was one thing you could swear your heart upon it would be that you could no longer imagine every day without Sunwoo's presence at your side. As if on instinct, your fingers took a life of their own as they reached up to push a few strands away from his face. They gently carved a path down his cheek, landing at the corner of his jaw. Dangerously close to his open mouth. There was no denying it. Sunwoo was beautiful. Handsome. Had those features on par to that of a model's. You were so focused on edging your way to touch his lower lip that you didn't realize you had been staring, until you glanced up to see his brown orbs fixated on yours. You froze. Shit. "Like what you see?" He murmured. Then, before you could scramble back and probably run with your tail between your legs, his own hand grasped your own and he pushed himself off the trunk before his head angled towards yours, finding your lips. Soft. Sunwoo's lips were soft. You panicked. Not used to the closeness. The fire that sparked between your lids. But his other hand went to clasp your jaw, holding you close as he kissed your next protest away and unconsciously brushing his thumb against your cheek. Shivering in his touch, there was no running away from the way his mouth molded against yours so snugly, and you didn’t want to. You found yourself addicted to the sweet pressure of his upper lip meeting your lower ones and soon enough -- without realizing -- you melted into his touch.

Sunwoo made a noise that sounded like a soft grunt, his other hand lacing around your waist to pull you closer so that you tumbled halfway into his lap. With embarrassment suddenly flooding through you, you let out a squeak that he answered with a chuckle of his own before distracting you once more with a series of kisses that left you gasping.

Your hands, initially balled into fists in your lap, went to rest against his chest and you didn’t realize that you were gripping onto his school shirt until you parted for air. Only were you aware of your compromising position, of the hard ridges of the young man’s thighs, of the firmness of his chest against your palms, of the way he seemed to be so much bigger than you even though he was a lean athlete, meant to be light and as speedy as the wind.

Breaths coming out ragged, you tried to slow the beating of your heart. Though it seemed to be quite the challenge, given how lovingly, how intense, Sunwoo seemed to be in making love to your neck, nibbling on your pulse point and causing a soft whimper to fall from your lips.

A whistle blew in the distance.

The soccer team. They’d be crawling up the hill any minute now.

“Sunwoo,” you breathed out, eyes hazy with mixed feelings of desire and embarrassment. You feebly tried pushing against his chest, to no avail. He merely groaned, head tilting upwards to catch your mouth into another kiss.

“Sunwoo,” you groaned against his lips. But he held on for dear life, one hand clasping the back of your neck, tangled into your locks. The other around your waist, pressing you as close as he could possibly get you to be.

“Just one more,” he mumbled in-between kisses, hooded eyes fluttering closed and head slanting to kiss you a little deeper, a little harder.

Your body was on fire. You weren’t used to this intimacy, nor all of the affection he was raining down upon you.

But it felt good. It felt amazing. Eye-opening.

He finally relented after what seemed like an eternity and you quickly made a move to scramble out of his lap. Though he wasn’t having any of that, grip made of iron as he held on. You looked up to snap at him to let go before everyone saw but was faced with his pout instead, which was enough to bring down your defences.

“Please,” his pout deepened and your heart practically vaulted through your chest. Cute. Cute. Cute. Stop. Burying his face into your neck, he whispered, “I just wanna hold you.”

So he did. And thank god the team had decided to take a different route so that you would avoid their imploring, questioning gazes. Though Sunwoo admitted that he’d already known they would go up from the other side of the gymnasium, considering they did that every other week to train their stamina in the process.

That earned him a light smack on the side of his head, making him whine, “What did I do to deserve this Y/N?”

“You knew!” You wanted to throw him a glare, but it was impossible when you were busy fighting the grin spreading across your face.

He grinned back at you, that crooked smile that always resulted in a burst of butterflies roaring through your abdomen. Just like now.

“So, since you have a drawing of me that you keep staring at every day--” his words died into laughter when you tried smacking his arm, proceeding to cage your wrist with his hand before kissing your knuckles. You squirmed as he continued, “does that mean I can get a picture of you?”

You let out a noise of protest, “that depends,” you mumbled, unconsciously finding refuge in his neck.

Chuckling, Sunwoo grasped your chin lightly to pull you back so that his brown orbs gazed right into yours with a gentleness that had you weak at the knees, “on what?”

“On what I get in return.”

“What if I say I’ll take you on a date?” he said wickedly.

You couldn’t help your smile.

“I guess that could work.”

654 notes · View notes

thestarsarealigning · 2 years

Text

Tortured artist vibes from the signs

Aries running through a storm, their friends roll their eyes and think Aries does it for the dramatic effect, but actually they do it to finally feel something, feel a lot, feel everything all at once again. Also, cutting off their ear (or other not-so-great coping mechanisms) because they cannot deal with their own mind telling them lies.

Taurus sitting on a swing set in the backyard of their grandparents, head upside down, looking at the clouds and at the upside-down meadow until they get dizzy. Taking forever on creative block, but then sitting down and finishing an amazing painting in one single 5-hour-session.

Gemini sucking on a pink lollipop and accidentally cutting their tongue on it, then sucking on their tongue. Assembling old figurines they found at antique flea markets. Walking around in an extravagant nightgown (or craving doing that, but they don't own the appropriate nightgown for afternoon promenades around the house).

Cancer crying in the bathtub (if they don't do it often enough, they will realize that they actually enjoy a good cry from time to time and that they miss it quite much to let go like that). Making inappropriate jokes about murder stories, especially about true crime. Finding inspiration in many things but not trusting their gut, because they think they want to be someone else, so they don't trust their own ideas even though those are so good.

Leo sitting in their perfectly decorated bedroom at their absolutely not tidy desk that shows the things Leo is passionate about in a very open, kind of in-your-face way. Writing bad poems and good lyrics to songs, but only being able to do good art as long as the passion that tortures them, fuels them.

Virgo feeling torn between a simple life in a cottage doing botanical illustrations, getting cooked for by their perfect fae wife, and dancing in fairy rings to eery harp music but kind of feeling alone out there and just not knowing if it's enough.

Libra thinking about joining a cult just for sociology research reasons. Thinking they are rational and reasonable all their life, until a lover with a bad influence sweeps them off their feet and makes them question everything they think they knew. Getting a taste for the new, the unknown, the forbidden. Can be dangerous.

Scorpio regularely thinking about trying magic mushrooms but then they just end up staying up late and turning on music and looking at themselves, naked, in the mirror, half of the night, contemplating between "I am a goddess, I am a diva" and "I am worth nothing, my soul is too dark for this world".

Sagittarius dancing slowly in the sunset light and feeling like everyone around is watching them (which they are absolutely doing). Feeling misunderstood while having lots of people ask every day how they are, but they still don't feel like anyone could possibly bear with the truth. Believing in a god or an entity from above, but also unleashing them on their enemies with kind of a chaotic energy.

Capricorn dark circles under their eyes, they stand up early, go outside with a cup of tea, stand in the frosty grass and kind of enjoy the cold creeping up their legs. They find inspiration in sounds, in scents, in colors. No one appreciates their art in a way they think appropriate, although still, everyone appreciates it, and not every artist can say that about themselves.

Aquarius showing their frustration or lack of inspiration in an unusual way, Aquarius send all of their action and passion into being lovers. Sometimes lovely and romantic and almost perfect, sometimes tragic and melancholic and with torn-apart hearts, they try to hold onto the people that make them feel the hardest, to get themselves to draw new inspiration from every meet-up, every heartbreak, every new kiss.

Pisces painting on their own legs with watercolor, dreaming about being far away, or back home, or with someone they miss. Quietly breaking inside when they feel like they're not giving enough. Producing beautiful, meaningful artwork but not being able to see the worth of it themselves. Feeling a shimmer of hope on every new morning though.

120 notes · View notes

mrs-gucci · 3 years

Text

Doth Not Fear, For Our Future Awaits {Prince Kylo Ren x Reader}

@babbushka:

Happy follower milestone my dear friend!! My prompt idea for your consideration: A medieval AU where reader is a lady in waiting to the Queen at the royal court, and Kylo is the crown prince who is in love with her. They can never be together...or can they? However you'd like to take this, if you decide at all, would be so much fun! xoxoxo :)

author’s notes: hello, hello! I’m baaaaack after a lengthy case of writers block 😩 my dearest friend, my beloved, thank you for this wonderful request!! I’ll be honest, I restarted this about three different times, but I’m very pleased with how this one turned out for you <3 @babbushka

warnings (what you see is what you’ll get!): fluff. forbidden romance/love. passionate kissing. themes of infidelity. use of Shakespearean English. some insults are thrown around.

no tw’s :)

word count: 1.6k

my general taglist peeps! @safarigirlsp @babbushka @mrs-zimmerman @dirtytissuebox @thepalaceofmelanie @einmal-im-traum kylo’s taglist peeps! @goddessofsprings @icarusinthesea @lumdelacour @readingreaver @eagerforhoney @trubluepensfan @beachwoodmonet (if you’d like to be added to or removed from any of my taglists, the link to the google form is HERE or at the top of my masterlist.)

[NOT my art/image. full credit to the artist, therealmcgee, and found via Pinterest]

A gentle autumn breeze rustles the masterpiece of dark tresses that sit atop the head of crown prince Kylo Ren, who stands alone in the moonlight-illuminated garden. The birds have ceased their chirps and allowed for the nighttime singers to shine through, crickets and katydids creating a peaceful melody from amongst the grasses.

He stands by the pond, staring down at his gently rippled reflection in the water. A grimace seems to be permanently etched onto his expression whenever he’s in the presence of his overbearing mother or pesky new bride, creating creases in his skin that shall surely remain for the rest of his living days.

As he looks down upon himself under the soft moonlight, he can only see the miserable face of a young man trapped in the cage of a legacy, unable to free himself from the heavy chains of expectation and tradition. Tonight, though, those chains bear an even greater weight for the young royal.

You're all he desires in life, the only thing he wishes to seek out and fight for. Not the kingdom of Alderaan, not his new bride, not even his mother; it’s you. And now, he’s forever bound to the wrong woman, restrained yet again by the rigid ways of his family’s traditions.

What if he no longer wants to be Prince?

A hollow footstep on the stone courtyard startles him from his thoughts and he turns around to gaze upon the intruder of his serene privacy.

“I believeth thy new bride is awaiting that lady marital bedding.”

His expression softens upon the sight of you striding towards him, turning fully around to properly face you as you stand before him. He holds your smaller hands in his much larger ones.

“The lady shalt beest waiting for an eternity, then. I am doubtful of that lady did suppose pureness, if 't be true i am truthful.”

The two of you laugh softly together at his comment.

“I wanteth nay other, Y/N, only thee.”

You offer the crown prince a sad smile. “And I only desire thee, Kylo, but we simply cannot beest together. I am mistress in waiting to thy mother, the queen, and ye art did set to becometh king. 't is 'gainst the laws of the land and we shalt certes beest hanged if 't be true anyone ever did discover our love affair.”

He sighs, forehead pressing against yours as he looks longingly into your eyes. “I wish things wast not this way, yond people couldst beest free to marry for love, not for status or bloodlines.”

“Me too.” You lean into him, bringing your mouth up to hover over his, and his down to meet yours. Warm, gentle wafts of his breath smooth out across your lips and you give a soft whimper in response, pressing yourself further against him. “Telleth me all thee would do to have me as thy bride, Kylo.”

Your voice is barely above a whisper, considering you’re barely able to breathe through your nose by now, with your face practically smashed up against him, but that’s the absolute last thing you give thought to at a moment like this. He opens his mouth and lazily attempts to capture you in a kiss, fingertips pressing harder into your sides.

“Gods, I would doth aught for thee. I would giveth up mine coronet, mine legacy for thy handeth.”

Slowly, your arms slither up around the back of his neck, feeling a familiar heat rising and bubbling in your nether regions. “Telleth me more.”

He’s practically slobbering over you now, so desperate to press his lips unto yours. The hunger surges through him as he pulls you flush against him.

“I would square for thee, square anyone for thy love to belong to only me. I would drop of sorrow mine bloody, beating heart out of mine own chest for thee.”

Your pulse throbs neath your flesh, the upbeat tempo of your heartbeat thrumming in your ears. You sigh into his open mouth, hand coming up to grab hold of his silky hair.

“Moo.”

Suddenly, he sweeps you up off your feet and instantly presses you against the side of the nearest structure, effectively caging you in with his massive form. He snarls softly, pinning you even further into the wall, forcing a quiet gasp from your lips.

“By gods, Y/N, I would killeth for thee.”

You tighten your grip in his hair and pull him down into a sloppy, passionate kiss. He returns the embrace with eager lips, tongue prodding and exploring every cavern of your mouth. His pelvis presses right up against your lower abdomen, rubbing his stiffening length up against you.

“Kylo.” A sigh pushes its way through your pursed lips as Kylo’s head dips down, lips pecking at the taut skin on your neck.

“Did shalt we runneth hence together. I wanteth to declare our love to the kingdom tonight.” His face lights up as he holds yours in his massive hands, smiling. “I’m sick of hiding in the shadows, sick of having to keepeth myself hence from thee.”

You’re riddled with worry over this sudden decision, rubbing the strong upper arms of your lover. “Art thee sure? This idea worries me greatly, mine sweeting. What if 't be true we receiveth did doth catch? They wilt throweth us in the dungeons for sure; our destiny wilt beest but soft decaying down thither until death showeth us mercy.”

“I don’t care. Allow me to prove all I would doth for thy love and for thy handeth, Y/N. I wilt taketh care of thee, I wilt at each moment maketh sure thee hath't everything thee couldst ever needeth and moo. And we wilt beest together, beest free to love one another at last. Who is't cares whither we art or what our fates wilt beest? We can finally beest together without restrictions, punishments or secrecy.” He presses you further up against the wall, lips parallel to your ear. “Mine life isn't worth living if 't be true thou art not by mine side. Wilt thee runneth hence with me?”

Simply just the thought of that makes your stomach go a flutter, a small smile tugging at the corners of your lips. Your eyes flicker up to meet his once more, hands cradling his handsomely carved face.

“I trust thee, kylo, thither's few or none will entertain it path thee decideth to taketh; I wilt remain by thy side. If 't be true thee wish to telleth the kingdom, then I wilt telleth those folk 'longside thee. If 't be true thee wish to runneth hence from this lodging, then I wilt runneth with thee.”

Kylo pulls you close for one more embrace, then guides you along back up to the party. Acidic nerves begins to crawl up your throat as the two of you draw nearer and nearer to the bustling ballroom.

Instantly, the Queen rushes over to her estranged son with a frustrated frown on her face. “Whither on earth hath't thee been?! Thy bride hath been by herself all night waiting for thee to returneth!”

He takes your hand. “The lady is not mine bride, mother, not anymore. Y/n is mine bride, and we don't care what everyone thinkest of our forbidden love. I've grown did tire of trying to prithee, of trying to followeth all of the traditions of our family. I wanteth to marry for love, not for the continuation of our lineage, and i intend to doth so with mine beloved.”

Now, people have begun to look onto the unfolding situation, finding it far more interesting than the festivities. Leia’s eyes search her son’s, then flicker over to glare into yours. A shiver swipes down your spine at her gaze of hatred.

“Thee've poisoned mine son. Callet!”

This gets the attention of even more patrons and suddenly, every single set of eyes are focused on where you stand. You wish to simply crumble in this moment, become one with the Earth in order to escape their accusatory stares.

“How dare thee speaketh of mine beloved in such a manner?! Didn't thee heareth what I did doth sayeth? We don't care what thee bethink of us, what any of thee bethink of us. We wilt beest together, coequal if 't be true 't doth take every single moment of mine life to achieve.”

The room is completely still and scarily quiet, not a single shift in position or breath can be heard in this moment. Leia stands up straight to look up into her son’s eyes. “I at each moment did knoweth thee wast nev'r did cullionly to beest in this family. I'm ashamed to hath't thee as a son.”

Patrons begin to stir and an angry unrest drapes itself atop the crowd.

“Throweth those folk in the dungeons!“ One says.

“Death to the coronet prince!“ Another exclaims.

From the very back of the room, another voice pops up. “Traitors!“

Suddenly, Kylo yanks you towards the stairs, breaking out in a full sprint.

“Runneth anon, mine love! We wilt hence!”

Your precious shoes fly off your feet as you run behind him. “Kylo! Mine shoes hath't cometh off! What am I to doth?”

He’s quick to scoop you up and carry you in his arms, breath steadily growing heavier with your added weight. He runs all the way down to the stables and seizes a tacked horse, mounting the perplexed creature swiftly.

“Taketh mine handeth. Doth not fear, for our future awaits, mine beloved.”

With a bright and hopeful smile, you take his hand willingly, the wind catching your hair as rhythmic hoof-falls carry you off to your new life, one you get to spend with the love of your life.

99 notes · View notes

honestlywtfisgoingon · 3 years

Text

A Match Set

Chapter 2

Chapter 1

Pairing: Benny Watts x Reader

Summary: After meeting one night in New York, you and Benny Watts are drawn to each other. As you go through different experiences with one another, you grow closer until it finally gets to be too much for Benny.

Word Count: 2685 Damn

Warnings: Alcohol and also a little sad?

Notes: hehe the plot continues... also please give feedback I’m still new to writing and can use the help 🥺

Your first date with Benny was like all your experiences with Benny. It started out ordinary, and ended up somewhere completely different.

He took you to a small cafe, one of those hidden spots known only to New York natives.

You and Benny sat down in a little corner of your own, and you felt an imbalance when he didn’t look nervous at all. After you ordered you relaxed a bit, finding out that he was just as anxious as you were. Sure, Benny had an incredible poker face, but the way he kept tapping his cheek while he leaned his chin on his hand had been the tell.

On the outside it looked as though the two of you were on a regular date, exchanging all the usual smiles and small flirtations, but that’s where it got a little more interesting.

Benny wasn’t conventional and didn’t care to be, and you were always trying to get past the surface of things. Neither of you cared for menial small talk, and instead went straight into a passionate exchange of thoughts and views. You ended up talking like you had known each other for years. There was a connection there, an obvious chemistry that you hadn’t found before.

There was a second date after that, and it was even better than the last. He had taken you to dinner that time, and once again you found yourselves falling back into discussion about various thoughts and ideas, nothing boring or ordinary.

As you cracked jokes back and forth and learned more about each other, you had a warm feeling. You recognized that for all these last few months, being with Benny was the first time you really felt at home in New York.

That was before, but this is now. Now is when a part of you shattered. Now is just after you got a devastating call that your father was sick.

“Thank you,” you said before hearing the click of placing the phone back on the receiver.

Thank you for what? You were just told your father was dying and you were supposed to say thank you? You had finally gotten the chance to go beyond your small town, thinking everything at home was safe, that it was taken care of. It was your father that convinced you of that.

Living where you did had it’s limits, and there wasn’t much for you there. He pushed you to get out and explore, telling you that you didn’t need to worry about him.

You were taken from your thoughts when you looked at the time, realizing Benny would be picking you up soon. You could’ve canceled, considering the recent circumstances, but you were grasping for normalcy at the moment, trying to shove away the awful reality you were just hit with. You told yourself it wasn’t because you were running away, you were just being considerate of benny. Yes, you were just being considerate. That meant you could push off thinking about all this until you got home.

This time, you and Benny were walking together in Central Park, and you were trying to pay attention to what he was saying as best you could.

“Hey, y/n?” You heard benny’s voice break through the numbness.

“Sorry, what?” You were embarrassed that he caught you blatantly ignoring what he was saying.

“I was asking if you were able to come to to the championship, but I think you’ve got other things on your mind.” He didn’t seem offended, more concerned.

“I’d love to, I know how important chess is for you, and I haven’t gotten the chance to see you get really competitive.” He would’ve been happier to hear your answer had he not seen straight though you.

“Right now, you’re what’s really important to me. Just tell me what’s really going on.” His admittance for caring about you would’ve made filled your heart yesterday, but today it made you want to run away.

“Nothing is going on.”

“You’ve been off the whole day, I just want to know why.”

“Nothing is going on. Why are you so convinced that there is?” Your tone became slightly more aggressive.

“Hey, you don’t have to tell me right-“

“Just leave it Benny!” You snapped, letting go of his hand and and walking away from him. You didn’t know why you took off from someone you liked so much, but you didn’t really know why anything was happening at all.

You were stopped as Benny ran after you and grabbed you hand firmly. You tried to pull away, but he was stronger than you. He spun you around to face him. You became acutely aware of the tears that had started to fall from your eyes. Looking up into his eyes was your breaking point.

You let out a sob before caving into him. You felt his arms wrap around you before letting him usher you to a bench. He held you for what seemed like forever, until you were too tired to cry anymore. He was rubbing you back and gave you a little smile when you faced him. You apologized and hastily wiped away your tears, but he insisted that it was ridiculous of you to be sorry. You still felt guilty after your breakdown, so you explained what was going on to make it up to Benny. You couldn’t exactly run away anymore, physically or emotionally.

“It’s my dad. I got a call this morning. He’s sick, but he wants me to stay here. How am I supposed to stay here, dealing with a new job, a new life really, while my dad’s back home dying?” You let Benny see all the stress you were under, ready for him to leave now that he’s seen you as a mess.

“All those things, you have to take one at a time. If your dad’s what’s important right now, just focus on that.” It was easier said than done, but Benny wasn’t the emotional type and he didn’t know exactly what to say, but he cared, that much was clear. You just nodded, trying to pull yourself back together. “Are you going to listen to him? Are you going to stay here?” You could tell that behind his question, he was scared that you would say no.

“I- I don’t know yet.”

“Whatever you need, I’m here.” He said as he gently placed a hand on your cheek. It was smooth and warm and you wanted to lean into it, but you snapped out of it.

“Maybe what we both need is for you not to here.” You didn’t want to hurt him, but your walls had rushed back up. You had so many things going on, and the last thing you needed was a boyfriend. It pained you to say it, but you wanted to be honest.

“I don’t have to be here as... whatever we have going on now... but I can be here as a friend.” As of today, romance was off the table for you, but a friend was different, and Benny wasn’t the type to let go of you so easily, even if a friendship was all he could get.

You just nodded and looked down into your lap, not knowing what to do now. Benny knew it was time for silence, so he held your face in his hands so you looked up at him. He didn’t say anything as he used the pads of his thumbs to wipe away the tears sitting on your cheeks. It wasn’t a romantic act, it was more endearing, a quiet action as if to say that he was willing to catch you if you fell.

You let out a small laugh at his little gesture. His eyes radiated a sort of comfort now that you he was edging into a part of your life that even you avoided.

With the intention of continuing your date that wasn’t really a date anymore, he grabbed your hand to pull you up from the bench. When he tried to let go, you didn’t let him. He looked at you curiously but he didn’t question it. You didn’t even know why you did it, still mentally screaming to push him away. You both just ended up going along with it, holding hands for the rest of the day until he walked you back home.

Nearly 3 weeks had passed since then and you hadn’t gone out or had contact with anyone. Despite your moment with Benny, you had still distanced yourself from him. Holed up in your apartment, existing off of gin, cigarettes, and frozen foods; ignoring calls, presumably from your friends.

You sat in the middle of the living room floor, forcing yourself to sketch. It had been therapeutic for you before, but now you found yourself more agitated as your drawings felt forced.

“Argh!” You yelled out into the room as you threw the papers across the floor. The one thing that you could always turn to was your ability to do art, and now you felt a block.

After taking a swig of gin, you laid back on the floor. You had turned to alcohol after another call with your father. He demanded that you stay in New York and that you go on with your life. Instead you felt like you were at a standstill, unable to keep going knowing that the one person left in your life wouldn’t make it another couple of months, and yet you were unable to see him. It made you hurt and angry that he didn’t want you home, but you wouldn’t go against his dying wishes.

You groaned when you heard the sound of the phone. You dragged your hands across your face when it wouldn’t stop ringing, forcing yourself up to confront whoever was pestering you.

“What the fuck!”

“Glad to know you’re alive.” Bennys voice greeted you.

“Can’t you tell when someone wants to be alone?” You missed Benny, but you were slightly drunk and your defenses were up.

“What someone wants and what someone needs are two very different things.”

“Well then tell me what I need.” You said sarcastically.

“You should come out with us. We’ve been calling, Cleo and Annette and the rest of us. We haven’t heard from you.”

“Well the reason you haven’t heard from me is because I haven’t been answering.”

“Funny,” he said humorlessly, “we all miss you.” He paused, “I miss you. And I said I’d always be here so I have to make good on my promise.”

You paused. You had to admit, you missed them and Benny too, but everything just seemed so scary right now. For all your philosophies and ideas, you were hiding from your own thoughts. Going out with people would only expose them.

“I can’t.”

“You don’t have to have a night out, but have coffee with me at least.”

“Benny I-“

“Great. I’ll be there in five.”

“What? Benny no-“ He hung up. The bastard hung up on you. His audacity was what actually made you laugh for the first time in days. After a minute of laying on the floor, you gathered energy to trudge over to the bathroom and make an attempt to clean yourself up. Looking at yourself in the mirror, you made a grimace at your reflection. You brushed your hair and washed your face, brushing your teeth twice to get rid of the alcohol on your breath. You swiped some face makeup to conceal your dark circles and changed out of the pajamas you had been living in.

You buzzed Benny in, expecting him to wait downstairs in the lobby like usual. Instead you heard a knock at the door in the middle of clearing things up. You got flustered as you rushed around to pick up glasses, pillows and other articles littering the floor.

“I thought we were going for coffee,”You said as you opened the door, panting slightly.

“I thought I would make things easy, come to you.” He said as he made his way in, slinging his arm around your shoulder, “plus ive never been in here.” He took a look around, making no comments about the state of your apartment. He made himself comfortable, going through your kitchen, presumably looking for coffee or something to eat. “Do you want anything? More gin maybe?” He said as he picked up an empty bottle sitting on the counter.

“Benny-“ you warned, silencing him. He joined you on the couch with some chips he found in the cabinets and a can of coke.

“We don’t have to talk about anything serious, I just don’t want you to be alone. For my own sake really.” He turned his head away from you while saying the last part.

“You know I should be a dick more often, I’m making you all soft.” You nudged him in the shoulder as a small smile crept up on his lips, lightening the mood. Something about him being there made you unconsciously drop your facade. You had to admit it was nice to relax for a moment.

“Hey don’t go telling everyone.”

You didn’t talk about anything serious like Benny said you wouldn’t. After a while you eased into laughing and chatting casually. Eventually the conversation reached a comfortable lull.

“I missed you too you know. I didn’t say it over the phone.” You told him. Having him here with you made you feel bad for your outburst. You admired his patience for you.

“I knew.” He shrugged as he gave you a sideways little smirk.

“cocky bastard.” You said jokingly.

“Your favorite cocky bastard” he tilted his head towards you as he lifted his brow, smiling.

“Top 3 maybe.” You leaned back like you were pretending to think about it.

Suddenly you remembered what you talked about before the little breakdown you had on your walk.

“The championship! Do you still want me to go?” You sat up with your sudden remembrance.

“Course I do. I didn’t know you would still be up for it.” Benny looked happy, but you could tell he didn’t want to get his hopes up.

“I didn’t think I was, but I didn’t want to miss you winning.” You ruffled his fluffy blonde hair. He gave you that cocky smirk again. You really won points by stroking bennys ego.

“Well we can drive together then. It’s next week.” He said it nonchalantly, but he smiled as he took a sip of his drink.

You paused, not realizing the championship was so soon. You thought you had at least a month. You didn’t feel as though you were ready to enter back into the world yet. Just Benny was alright but having to hold your own with all those people while Benny played scared you. Benny caught your hesitation and went to hold your hand. They were chess players hands, soft with long fingers that intertwined with yours. They were cold and his rings were a bit uncomfortable, but your breath still hitched a bit.

No. You said you wouldn’t get involved with him. Still, you kept your hand in his. It was probably the one mildly romantic thing either of you could get without risking the friendship falling apart at this time.

“How exciting,” you finally continued. You lifted your coke and you and Benny cheers-ed together. Once again that warm feeling of home crept in, that feeling you got when being with Benny. No matter how many walls you built up, Benny, someone you hadn’t even known for more than a couple months, had an amazing way of bursting through.

Just this morning you were firmly committed to becoming a hermit, and now you were planning a road trip. You chalked it up to Benny being special to you. No, you pushed that thought away again. Special in a friend way. That’s what you needed, and that’s what he was willing to be. You were in a state of conflict around him, shoving him away and holding his hand to pull him close. You shook off your thoughts and looked at Benny, and there was a moment where his eyes shone with admiration, and then it was gone as he turned his head away and continued to talk about one of his chess feats while you listened attentively, just happy to be around him again, even if it was unwillingly at first.

#benny watts x reader #benny watts fanfiction #benny watts imagine #benny watts fluff #benny watts smut #the queen’s gambit #queen’s gambit #benny watts #Thomas Brodie-Sangster

316 notes · View notes

wevegottogetaway · 3 years

Text

El Patrón

I’m so excited to finally be posting this piece. I’ve been working on it for the past few days and it’s been consuming my mind. If you like angst, smut, art student Harry, and great plot twists, this story is for you, so buckle up, cause you’ve got 13700 and then some waiting for you! And on that note, I don’t thing I have many words left in my brain... so, hope you enjoy xx

TW: smut, fool language

After her first day back to classes, Y/n is not surprised to see Harry Styles’ lanky frame standing behind the bar of Bottom’s Up. She hoped that he would bugger off to work some place else but alas, all her summer prayers were unanswered. For yet another semester, she would have to endure bartending by his sides, trying with all her might not to jab a corkscrew at his throat every time he opened his gob. Granted, she could have switched jobs herself, but the pay is too good to turn down and the bar sits literally right around the corner from her place; a match made in heaven if you ask her. Besides, she’s been mastering the art of tuning out the insufferable green-eyed prick for two years now, so what’s one more? Of course, knowing it is likely to be the last - having just kicked off the final year of her psychology major - makes the news easier to stomach. And with any luck, the fool did some sort of soul-searching over the break and came back a changed man.

"Well, well, well. Look who decided to grace us with her delightful presence again. Knew you couldn’t stand to live without me, y/l/n." Harry greets her with a smirk as he looks up from his phone.

Well, some much for change, but luck has never been on y/n’s side anyway; she knew it was wishful thinking to entertain the idea of a pleasant or even tolerable Harry. "Shut it, Styles. I’m not in the mood for your bullshit," she quips back and goes straight to the employee’s locker room to dispose of her stuff and swap her top for one bearing the bar’s logo. Once done, she takes a brief look in the tattered mirror still hanging by the door to readjust her ponytail, before joining her co-worker behind the counter. The bar is rather quiet for now, clock having not chimes 6pm yet, but y/n expects the place to be soon crawling with students drinking the classes’ return off their mind.

The next few minutes are spent in unexpected peaceful silence, y/n prepping for the upcoming rush while Harry idly sits by, not lifting a single finger to help her out. Admittedly, he’s completed all his pre-shift duties during the last hour, but y/n doesn’t think it warrants the smug look painted on his face as he watches her battle a jar of olives with an old opener and a concentrated frown. So peaceful silence was a bit of a stretch, maybe.

Then to make matters worse he decides to taunt her, "I see you’ve grown zero muscle strength over the break. Too busy vegetating on the beach?"

The surge of anger triggered by the provocation is enough impetus for her to crack the can open, but it doesn’t stop her from turning to face him, "I see you’ve grown zero neuron in that thick head of yours. Too busy making people miserable instead?" she counters with flaring nostrils and a look of disdain hardening her features.

"Ah, still got a feisty mouth on you. ‘Was worried you might turn soft on us." Harry sasses back, but y/n doesn’t bother telling him off this time. No matter how strong her comeback, he’ll just brush it off with that smile of his that irritates her to no end. That’s the thing with Harry, the bastard has the thickest skin of all, he’s downright unattainable. And believe it or not, bad-mouthing doesn’t come naturally to y/n, he just seems to draw it out of her, perhaps as the trigger of some kind of survival instinct. Time and time again she’s tried to come up with a quip that would leave him speechless, tail between his legs, but he always has a wittier reply to throw back at her. For so long they’ve been playing this debilitating game of ping pong and she has yet to claim a point to his countless wins.

It’d been the case since their first meeting on that dreadful Friday two years ago. Y/n was about to embark on her second year at uni and decided to get a job so she could afford her own place instead of the dreary dorms she’d gotten used to. Bottom’s Up had seemed to be the perfect choice, a 2 minutes walk from the sweet little apartment she’d just visited a few days prior. She’d been excited for her first shift that night, air still warm from the Indian summer sun drawing a plethora of eager students to come enjoy their last day of freedom. Her happy jitters had quickly dissolved once she’d made her way in the staff-only area located behind the bar though. There, she’d walked in on a very frustrated Harry vociferating at a lost-looking colleague, "how many times do you have to fuck up before doing your bloody job, Steve? Stop sitting on your lazy ass, or I swear I’ll-"

She’d come to this Steve guy’s defense then, furious at the tall curly hair jerk for bullying his way around, "stop it, you asshole. You can’t talk to people like trash, who do you think you are?" Granted, she didn’t know it at the time, but the lost look on Steve's face was in fact pretty standard for the amount of weed in his system; nor did she know that the lad could actually win the Olympics of lazy asses hands down, should such a discipline be appended. It was too late to call off the hostilities though. War had been declared, and aside maybe from that one time he had graciously accepted to cover for her when she’d had a trip to Brighton planned for one of her classes, no truce had ever been reached. Besides, she’s sure it was more so because he was low on cash rather than to fulfill the hidden desire to help her out for once in his life.

Now, as she finishes wiping her work surface with a wet cloth, y/n wishes more than ever to be teleported in a parallel universe where she doesn’t have to work with the bane of her existence, much less see his annoyingly handsome face four times a week. (Also, exams would only be optional in this alternate reality of hers, but that’s another fantasy for another day.) Mainly, she’s just glad she doesn’t see him around campus ever, the art building standing all the way across from the psychology department. At least she’s Harry-free the moment she steps out of the bar; she’d probably have a nervous breakdown if she had to put up with his antics outside of work.

***

A month in the new semester, the novelty of it all has finally worn off to make way for routines to settle in. Y/n’s weeks now consist in a well-practiced cycle of sleep, study, eat, work and occasionally go out with her best friend Mia. Her shifts at Bottom’s Up still prove to be challenging because of the company she’s forced to keep but things seem to have calmed down at the bar too. Students are now less inclined to party the week away, mainly indulging during the second half of the week, but more importantly, Harry appears to be less of a smug bastard and more of a sulky sod. For some reason, the lad has been stuck in a sullen mood, constant frown wrinkling his forehead. He has reverted to distant one-word answers as though he is saving a dictionary worth of words for whatever conundrum is going on in his brain. Y/n doesn’t mind though, and almost welcomes the transition if it means less digs taken at her expense.

Now y/n finds herself on her way to the campus library for a much needed paper-writing cramming session (the assignment is due the following day and she barely has two thirds of the work completed). After a quick stop by the coffee shop down the block, she finally strides in the lobby of the library, ready to dive nose first into the riveting matters of cognitive psychology. She’s already so focused mulling over concepts’ definition in her mind, that it takes her a minute to realize something is going on.

It’s nothing major really, no big fire rushing around the premises or fist-fight breaking the crowd into a frenzy. No, just everyone seemingly hushing and gasping, bewildered expressions etched upon their faces as they keep pointing towards the nearby study room. Truthfully, y/n might have been completely oblivious to it, it she weren’t a psychology major; but reading people’s feelings and interactions is kind of her thing, so she does notice the bubbly energy infiltrating the usually quiet space. What could possibly have them so intrigued, she wonders as more students come out of the room with the same looks of wonder.

Her confusion is finally quelled when she steps into the study room in question and her eyes fall on what has everyone so engaged. On the wall to her right, between two sets of shelves brimming with decades-old books, hangs a life size canvas of audacious shapes and bold colors. Not one seems to have been left out, the painting seemingly transporting the viewer in a psychedelic albeit appealing trance. It’s full of contrasts, an embodiment of serenity and boldness at the same time, and y/n can’t stop ogling the masterpiece for the life of her. The amount of passion is so obviously overwhelming, yet she can feel all of the artist’s emotions underneath each of the brushstrokes.

After another minute of wondrous observation, her thoughts are interrupted by a foreign voice. "El Patrón? I wonder who that could be," the stranger wonders aloud, and her eyes immediately drift off to the bottom right of the painting to catch the small but unmistakable signature: black cursive letter spelling the two words withholding the real artist’s identity. The mystery only adds up to the appeal of the work and y/n already feels a bubbling feeling in the pit of her stomach at the idea of ever finding out what beautiful soul is responsible for such mind-bending work. She hopes this won’t be last she sees of it.

***

It’s Friday night and unfortunately for y/n, she’s stuck at work with her least favorite person in the world. It’s all the more unfortunate that Harry seems to be back to his usual annoying self, his thoughts finally free from whatever trouble had plagued them, and eager to fall back into nuisance mode. Less unfortunate for y/n and much to Harry’s discontent, Mia decided to stop by and keep her company. Though she feels slightly sorry for her having the act as her buffer for the night, y/n figures she’s more than making up for it with every free cocktail she keeps sliding towards her friend. Their conversation is scattered at best since patrons keep interrupting them for a fresh pint of ale, but as the night slowly dies down they manage to talk longer than 20 seconds.

The manager of the bar has long clocked off and gone home, as per usual on Friday nights, leaving both her and Harry the pleasure to indulge in a few drinks of their own. They don’t do it every week and always keep it low-key of course; Mia’s tonight presence mostly accounting for y/n’s partaking while Harry just likes a nice glass of tequila when the week-end comes around and there’s nobody to tell him off about it. One thing they never do though, is drink together, like two friends celebrating yet another week they survived at uni. Come to think of it, the only thing they do share is a job position and their never-ending bickering. Cheers to that, y/n takes another sip of her gin martini in sarcasm.

She’s brought back to reality by Mia as the tipsy brunette lets out a loud gasp before she inquires in a slightly high-pitched voice, "y/n! totally forgot to tell you, went by the library today and you’ll never guess what was there!"

"Oh my god, you saw the painting too, didn’t you" y/n answers, excited at the idea of discussing the whole thing with her best friend. Truth be told, the majestic work of art hasn’t left her mind since she’d first seen it a few days before.

"Yes" Mia squeals in confirmation, "I mean, it’s kinda impossible to miss. I wonder how they got it there without anyone seeing."

Y/n has wondered the same thing and she came to one conclusion, "they probably sneaked in last Sunday after the library closed, it’s the only time the building is empty," Mia humming in agreement. The campus library is opened 24/7 all days except on Sundays, so realistically speaking it is the only window of time that would allow for such an experiment. Whether said experiment required an actual break-in or was conducted in full legality remains a mystery but that is just bygones in y/n’s eyes. She’s much to mesmerized by the work to give a damn about how it got there in the first place.

"Oi y/l/n! What are you two fawning over this time" Harry chirps in the conversation, uninvited as always, and y/n hates how condescending he just sounded.

"Not that you could ever understand something with substance, if your lack thereof is any indication, but it’s none of your damn business," y/n spats out dismissively but Mia’s Margarita-induced brain seems to have forgotten all about their concerted hatred for piss-taking bartenders.

"Harry, you’re an art major aren’t you? D’you know who’s behind that beautiful painting at the library?"

Y/n tilts her head back in a sigh at her friend’s behavior before turning to watch the puzzled look on Harry’s face. He seems to silently gauge the both of them; for what, y/n doesn’t know, and then his whole expression switched to a blasé look. He shrugs in disinterest, "who cares? ’s just one more Banksy wannabe who’s trying at it too hard ‘f you ask me."

Y/n takes it as a personal offense, her admiration for the painting outweighing any instinct she has of avoiding the brazen man taking a sip of his tequila on rocks across from her, "of course you’d say something like that. You’re just jealous you’ll never compete with his talent."

Harry raises a brow at her accusation, "and how would you know since you’ve never seen any of my work?"

It’s a valid point, but not enough to rebut her. "Doesn’t take a genius to know a shallow mind like yours could never create something as deep and transcending. That would require actual emotions from you Harry and we both know the only emotion you’re capable of spreading is irritation."

For once she’s confident she’s gonna have the last word, but in true Harry fashion he just gives her a bored look as if to say ‘is that all?’ towel thrown over his shoulder, "right, and here I thought talking to people like trash was a bad thing. You should really take a page out of your own book, y/n, wouldn’t want anyone to think you’re as big of a jerk as I am." Then he turns back to face the room full of customers, and tends to one disheveled looking guy slurring out an order.

Y/n barely registers the friendly "alright Joe, but ’s the last one," Harry rasps out to the guy, her ears are still ringing from the last words he’d said to her. More specifically, the little truth they held despite how much he deserved the backlash, and y/n absolutely loathes the way her throat seems to be closing in on itself. She’s afraid she’s turning like him, bitter words at the ready and always trying to outdo his own taunting spiels. Before anxiety can settle in her bones though, she swallows back the knot tightening in her airways and goes back to serving customers and conversing with her friend.

***

The next time it happens, she expects it even less. A couple weeks have passed since her gruesome interaction with Harry at the bar, and along with her doubts, all thoughts about art have seemed to vanish from her busy mind. She’s had a few tests occupying all her free time and now that they’ve been done and over with, all she can think about is calling Mia up to plan their next night out; she needs a few drinks that she didn’t make for once.

She’s about to take her phone out of her pocket to send her best friend a text, when she enters the lecture hall of her Monday experimental method and research design class. The déjà-vu feeling that creeps up her spine stops her from completing the action, and y/n frowns at how her fellow students seem to be all entranced in deep conversation, exchanging baffled looks with one another. Even the sleeping kid that sits at the back seems to be more alert than during their last fire evacuation procedure test.

It’s then y/n turns around to see what is hanging at the front of the room, covering the large board. This time, the colors were carefully handpicked by the artists, flashes of pink and yellow dancing along to a frenzied rhythm of salsa as their union creates powerful jets of oranges across the canvas. It vaguely reminds her of the pendant she wears on a daily basis, rose gold laurels wrapped around a delicate sunflower, an orange topaz incrusted in its center. The painting is of abstract nature much like the last one, but the movements of the brush still bring her mind back to the jewel presently nestled between her collarbones. How odd.

The piece is slightly smaller than the last but no less impressive, catching the attention of even the least artistic eye. The sensibility of the artist is so distinct, intentions clearer and more in touch than most people with their own. For a second, y/n thinks she’s glad the pieces have only been ones of unadulterated happiness and colorful bliss so far, because god knows how heart-wrenching the outcome would be if all this uncorrupted honesty was used to fill canvas with pain.

As the professor enters the room, everybody settles back on their seat, and wait for the chap’s reaction. "Well, that sure is something. It seems we have a bit of a mystery painter on our hands, don’t we; and a talented one at that," y/n’s professor smiles at the class as he pulls a computer out of his satchel and places it at top of the front desk. His words make her look back at the artwork, this time settling on the small signature reading El Patrón on its corner. And it’s all it takes for Y/n’s obsession with the anonymous artist to be back in full force.

***

That night she can’t stop raving about the painting as she starts closing the bar after a long and tiresome shift. She’s got a shoulder pressing her phone to her ear, Mia on the line, while she absentmindedly sweeps the floor. Normally the exertion of the job would have her stifling yawns and her bones aching but tonight her voice is perky as ever as she recollects the pinnacle of her day, "you shoulda been there Mia, it was gorgeous. And same as last time, like you’d be minding your business, doing your thing and then boom, it’s there. Damn, this guy is a genius."

As she comes back around the counter, Harry makes sure she notices the roll of his eyes. He’s been wiping and tidying the bar space after making sure everything is stocked up for the next day, all the while listening to her drone about El Patrón and his stroke of genius, praise after praise falling from her lips. She completely brushes off the patronizing gesture and that’s perhaps what irritates him the most. She’s barely acknowledging him or his stunts with all her attention placed on the mystery painter and well, Harry quite likes riling her up. Doesn’t do it out of spite, but merely because he likes the way it ignites a fire in her that he’s seldom seen in people. But now, all her fire is directed elsewhere and he doesn’t know what to think of it.

***

Over the next month, the rumors around El Patrón spread like wildfire as more and more of his works are found scattered around campus. Much to y/n’s delight, she always seems to fall upon them as though they’ve been placed specifically on her path. It didn’t start as obvious though; the first following pieces hung in common areas around campus such as the lunch hall or the student center but as time went by they tended to follow her whereabouts somehow. Y/n knows she’s probably fabulating but when she’d stumble across two absolutely stunning pieces in the lobby of her gym and at the entrance of the psychology building, she couldn’t help but feel deeply attached to them. And the possibility that this mystery artist might have the same attachment to her, only fuels her obsession further, sending her reeling with all but one nerve-wracking question: who is this guy?

And it’s not like she’s the only one pondering over their identity either. Hell, the genius has literally everyone on campus under their spell, trying to uncover the enigma of the year. Everyone seems to be determined to find clues, easter eggs hidden within the paintings that could lead them closer to the truth. El Patrón has effectively turned the whole uni into a large-scale game of Cluedo, people speculating left and right and swapping theories about who it can or cannot be, what year they are probably in, or whether they have an accomplice. Nobody has ever executed such a tour de force in the history of campus, and it has everyone one edge, y/n included, desperate to be in the loop.

The fact that each painting is more beautiful than the last and always seems to connect with her in personal ways doesn’t help her daydreaming either. Take the one she found at the gym for example, for a few second she’d sworn she was looking at a familiar piece of the English South Coast, dark hues of blue fighting dots of white, reminiscent of the way foam always seems to top even the most raging waves as they crash along shores. She’d only had to close her eyes to feel the wind blowing her hair in a thousand directions and the sand engulfing her feet, making its way between her toes and every crevice of her skin. She was still in the middle of her gym when she reopened them though, her sport bag straddling her shoulder as she kept gaping at the painting in adoration.

Her suspicious keeps nagging at her head, the desire to unveil the identity of her beloved artist getting stronger by the day. The feeling is almost unbearable when she spots yet another work of his across from Bottom’s Up. The coincidences keep piling up and the more she mulls it over, the more she’s convinced this mystery guy is talking to her. Damn, is it possible to have a crush on someone because of their work? After months of this cryptic scavenger hunt, she’d dying to know if all her theories are right and the fact that she has no way to find out, is positively killer her.

That’s why when she stumbles across a flyer for a midterm exhibition gala hosted by the art department as she waits in line at her favorite coffee shop, she doesn’t think twice before jotting down all the info. In a week time, most of the uni’s art students would be gathered up in one place to present their term’s work. The chances are too high for y/n to pass up the opportunity, her guts telling her he’ll be there. It makes sense doesn’t it? Surely, this El Patrón ought to be an art student if not a teacher. How else would they have access to all the campus amenities most of the paintings were found in?

As she goes to pick up her coffee from the counter, y/n walks with a newfound spring in her steps; she really can’t wait for this gala to happen.

***

Y/n stands at the entrance of the art building, a black floor-length long-sleeves open-back dress hugging her curves in all the right places. Her heart speeds up at the nervous jitters crawling underneath her skin, and the million question swarming her frantic mind. What if he actually doesn’t know her and doesn’t give a damn about her thoughts on his work? What if it’s actually a woman and she’s been hiding a man’s pen-name to consolidate her deceit? Is she about to make the biggest fool out of herself by coming to this exhibition? She doesn’t know anyone here, nor has she ever been to this kind of event before but she’s decided this guessing game has run its course. Maybe this all thing has nothing to do with her and that’s okay. All she really wants is to have a chance to tell this exquisite mind how remarkable their work is; the rest be damned.

Y/n slowly makes her way inside, and after a quick stop at the coat room to dispose of the unnecessary garment, she is finally greeted by a room full of dressed-up people roaming and chatting around, champagne flutes in hands. How cliche, she thinks with humor, before picking up a glass of the bubbly beverage. It’ll help sooth the nerves, she reasons as she starts walking around the place to observe each of the displays. Despite not having had a glimpse of her number-one painter yet, she finds herself having a good time. Most of the work offered to her is engaging in one way or another; some pieces quite provocative is their depiction, others straight out pushing the limits of 2D, with structures coming out of the canvas as though they were about to grip at the viewer.

Turning at a corner, she comes across his art before she sees him, having almost forgotten art was supposedly his thing too, and she realizes she actually knew someone here apart from the mysterious painter. She takes a brief look at his tall frame, the baby blue suit over his crisp white shirt fitting him perfectly. A black tie is completing the look, and it makes y/n waver for a second. She’s never seen him dressed in anything other than jeans and the bar’s t-shirt every employee is supposed to wear on call. Granted, even that he can make work better than anyone else she can think of, but that suit is something else altogether.

Her eyes shifts back to his work, not wanting to waste too much time on his appearance; she is here on a mission after all. She can’t deny his painting is good as much as she wants too. It’s made of a perfectly executed optic illusion that has her pause for longer than she intended to. The colors are picked wisely only adding to the entrancing design, tempting the viewer to reach out to the painting to convince themselves that this is fact a pretty subterfuge and no reality; the frontier between both worlds much too hard to distinguish. Just like for the rest of the exhibition, a single plaque hangs underneath the canvas, introducing the title of the piece above the name of its artist: Fine Line by Harry Styles. Damn, the bastard had to be talented…

"Is it as depthless as you thought it would be?" A hoarse voice interrupts her inner thoughts. She knows it’s his at the first word and already she regrets ever thinking positive things about him.

"Funny, I would have shared a compliment but you just had to go and open your stupid mouth," she bites back as she fully turns around to face him. She can feel is eyes shamelessly scanning her body, sending her nerves on overdrive. She wants this exchange to be as curt as possible, she’s got important matters to tend to.

"Here for you mysterious bloke, I presume?" he inquires in a taunting voice.

"What’s it to you, anyway?" y/n dodges the question with another, hoping it’ll steer the conversation toward its end.

She’s answered by rosy pouting lips, a hand on his heart in faux vexation, "ouch, was just hopin’ you’d come to see me, and now you’ve just crushed my dreams, love."

The pet-name is not lost on her and Y/n has had enough. In own gulp she downs the rest of her champagne and forces the glass to his chest for him to hold as she makes her way past him, "just leave me alone and go be a pain in someone else’s ass, Harry." She doesn’t wait to see if he’s following her as she marches across the room in long and purposeful strides.

Something in the corner of her eyes catches her attention right then. Halting abruptly, almost making someone walk right into her, she turns her head to the side and that’s when she finally sees it. A whole part of the wall has been dedicated to his work, a shrine of his most outstanding pieces randomly hung against the white surface. Y/n recognizes each and every one of them, but then her eyes take in the extra work added for the exhibition: next to each of the pieces are displayed a bunch of photos capturing the students’ expressions as they first discovered the paintings. Dozens of faces lighting up in amazement, widening eyes and finger pointing at the unexpected intrusions; some show confusion and puzzlement while others simply behold laughter and animated conversation.

In the center of the wall, a video is projected. It’s a compilation of those same moments but this time captured on tape. The sound was removed, but as y/n takes in the faces of her fellow students she can almost hear the sound of their laughters; she’d been there for most of it after all. She thinks the idea is amazing, El Patrón has managed to make the viewer a permanent part of the art. The paintings are marvelous of course, full of emotions and passion, but the mysterious artist has gone one step further by also displaying how those emotions had reflected back on the audience. It is an ode to art, to the power of sharing, and proves art is limitless; not owned by museums, not bound between walls and certainly not restricted for trained-eyes only. Because art isn’t all about beauty, it speaks for the need for sharing that human have but often forget, and this is a perfect reminder of it.

The next tape playing has her eyes doubling over the video, a small gasp escaping her lips as she takes in her own figure. It was taken the day she found the painting at the gym and unlike all the other videos she’s alone. No group of students by her side elbowing her in disbelief, or sharing a puzzle look with her. Just her doe eyes gleaming at the painting, lips slightly parted in pure wonder, as she studies every inch of the canvas. And the feeling that this might mean just as much to him as it does to her comes back crashing on her. She’s not paranoid; this artist his using her as some kind of inspiration, she’s sure of it. Random cannot be this accurate, it would defy any laws of statistics.

After the slideshow finally moves on to the next video, y/n looks around in the hopes of finding the man that has wormed his way into her heart. She’s imagined it a thousand times over during the past week. A young man would be discretely standing on the side, watching the evening pan out and waiting for her to find his work. Then they would make eye contact and he’d make his way over to greet her and share more of his beautiful mind with her. That’s the happily ever after she’s hoped for since that first painting in the library, but alas everyone around her seems to be engrossed in conversation about this and that.

"I thought he would be there too," the unexpected voice makes her jump. She recognizes the student from that first day, she’d also be intrigued by the mysterious man.

"I know, all of his work is here, he has to somewhere around," y/n tries to convince herself. She hasn’t given up yet, she won’t let herself unless she goes home tonight empty-handed. Only after that will she stop searching, she promises herself. If he doesn’t show up tonight, then that’s because he doesn’t want to be found.

The girl next to her has the same disappointed tone when she explains, "you’d think so, but I’ve been asking everyone around and nobody has a clue still."

Before y/n can come up with her own rationalizations, someone starts speaking in a microphone, asking for everyone’s attention. It’s a man in his early fifties making a speech about the whole reason behind the exhibition so y/n pegs him as the head of the art department. "Thank you all for coming tonight, it is always a pleasure to see so many of you supporting our young talents. As you may know, tonight’s exhibition signs off our students’ final work for the semester, and will also see one of them receive a one-time collaboration with a renown art gallery in the city. Now, before the judges finish deliberating, let me tell you a bit about the topic of this exhibition which, by the way, serves as the main criteria for this contest. Our artists were asked to work around audience engagement and crowd reaction. The task was to produce art that would prompt an active response from the viewer and go beyond a passive experience. I hope this info helps this event take all its sense, I’ll let you all meander for a couple more minutes before we announce the winner. Thank you for your presence."

Since she has a couple more of minutes, y/n decides to take advantage of the fresh insight she was just given about the artwork and goes around the exhibition one more time. The whole thing does take on a new meaning, now that she knows what was going one in the students’ mind as they first got their assignment. But what has her in awe really, is El Patrón’s coup de maître in all of this, because unlike any other applicant here tonight, he’s had the strongest reactions from the public for months now and had even documented it. So really, in a way he’s already won, no bias to blame. The amount of work and planning behind such a tour de force surely has exceeded everyone’s expectations and secured the number-one position for the still-to-be-revealed artist. In the pocket, as they say.

"Alright everyone, without further ado we are going to announce the lucky talent selected by the judges tonight," the head of department speaks up again. "On behalf of the whole department, I would like to salute each and every one of the students that presented their work tonight. Skills are certainly not scarce among you all, and as always it gives me great pleasure to see you all grow into yourselves alongside your craft. As you know, there can only be one of you coming up to this stage tonight and I must say, this semester has proved to be full of surprises. Never in my 26 years working here have I ever seen something of the sort, so ladies, gentleman, I have no idea who is about to join me now, but please give a warm round of applause for El Patrón!"

The room explodes in loud cheers as people clap their hands in honor of the mysterious artist. Y/n probably the loudest amongst them all, is still craning her neck in every possible directions trying to catch sight of anyone moving towards the stage. The standing ovation quickly fades into silence as everyone realizes nobody is coming to claim their prize. The usual hushing following any of El Patrón’s stunts is once again spreading across the room to match people’s incredulity at the situation. It was one thing to keep their identity a secret, as it was clearly a crucial condition for the plan to work, but now that it is all over and done, prize ready for the taking, it doesn’t make much sense.

"Mister El Patrón? I think you more than deserve to drop your mask and receive your prize," the host reiterates in hopes that the much awaited artist comes out of his lair, but he’s met with the same result. Perhaps he’s not here after all, or perhaps y/n was right to think he might not want to be found, but regardless a strong feeling of disappointment takes over a body. He won’t be coming, she knows. No matter how many times the host calls for him, he won’t be coming.

She lets out a long sign in frustration then, she really thought tonight was the tonight. But now that the evening is coming to its end, tears pearl at the corner of her eyes and she just wants to go home and forget all about El Patrón. Aren’t artists supposed to be dark and twisted anyway? Maybe she just dodges a bullet, she tries to make herself feel better, but no amount of sarcasm can save her from the painful pinch at her heart. As she comes to term with the fact she won’t get any more answers by staying (and possible ever), she decides it’s her cue to go.

On her way to the exit, her eyes fall upon Harry’s slightly hunched figure. He seems deep in his thoughts, eyes fixed towards the floor though he’s not looking at anything in particular. For some unknown reason, y/n is not irked by his presence like she usually is. He’s just lost a great career opportunity so his preoccupied disposition is understandable. Feeling as though she needs to end the night on a different note - whether positive is yet to be determined - she approaches him slowly as not to startle him. "Your painting is really good. I’m sorry you didn’t win, but you should still be proud," she softly tells him to cheer him up. At least, one of them might get to go home in higher spirits.

He looks up at her then, curls bouncing on top of his head, as he aligns his two glistening emeralds to her own gems. He seems quite surprised to hear her voice, probably rightfully so since he can count on one hand (scratch that, one finger) the number of times she’s actively sought him out for conversation. She can tell he’s debating whether to say something or not, as they keep their eyes locked. It’s probably the longest and only civil exchange they’ve ever had, and somehow it manages to soothe some of her sorrows.

Y/n likes this reflective side of him, she realizes. Not that she wishes him any torments (at least not tonight) but his quietness makes him look vulnerable in that beautifully human way for once. That’s twice he’s proven her wrong about the assumptions she had on him, tonight: first his talent, now his character; she doesn’t know what to make of it. Silently, she accepts the timid smile and light nod he offers her in gratitude, before making her way to out at last.

***

Two days after the night of the exhibition, y/n still has a hard time to let her grievance go. Her mood has yet to upgrade from crappy at best, and the fact that all the artwork has been removed from their previous spots is not helping much. Of course she knew they had been put down for the big night, but her heart still missed a beat when she went to the gym only to find the walls of the lobby bare of any craft that would liven up their otherwise dull and colorless structure. Just like her state of mind, she’d joked. And y/n is not one to throw pity parties, especially to herself; but then again, she’d never fallen under the charms of a faceless virtuoso because his art brought to life parts of her that she’d believed otherwise dormant, only to be metaphorically stood up at the end of the process. So really, what does she know anymore?

Now that she’s back at work, she revels in the constant effort she has to provide. The ever-growing list of task to complete gives her mind reprieve and focus, but she still hasn’t budged from her unusually distant and withdrawn self. Even harry’s own standoffishness hasn’t caught her attention; a week ago, his awkward demeanor would have flashed red flags all over her radar. An unfiltered narcissistic prick he could be, but y/n has never known him to be anything even resembling reserve; apart maybe from that one fate-less night not even 72 hours ago when she found him on the outskirts of the attention even though she knew full well that he is more of center kind of guy.

As they’re about to start closing, the awkwardness becomes more palpable by the second. They’ve skirted around it during the whole shift, the steady solicitation of customers enough to ignore the growing tension; but as the last of the patrons finally make their way out of the bar, an eery silence settles in their wake, making them both want to crawl out of their skin. Even the heavy-served drinks they’ve indulged in, despite the absence of their respective motives, hasn’t help assuage the strain between them. Instead, they start their usual routine in overrated silence, y/n in charge of the floor while he tends to the bar. Then before long, Harry bursts the uncomfortable bubble they’ve locked themselves in, voice void of its usual teasing tone, "so, what’s got you so grumpy?" he inquires.

"Please don’t start, Harry. I really can’t be bothered tonight," y/n sighs in response, failing to recognize the note of concern in his question and thinking she wouldn’t survive another bickering session. It hasn’t been the lad’s intention though, so her false accusation has his thick skin itching against his will. To be honest, Harry’s never taken much offense from any of their past squabbles no matter how hard she’d come at him, but this one he can’t brush off. Not when for once, he’s trying to be decent, dropping the attitude he knows rubs her the wrong way and she responds by telling him to get lost.

"Fuck sake, I wasn’t tryin’ to start anythin’" he berates her for lashing out unjustifiably, "you need to take a chill pill." The hostile reaction as her pausing mid-swipe in the middle of the room. He was always so unbothered by everything she said, she hasn’t expected him to be so hard on the defensive (or even know what a defensive is in the first place).

Still, she doesn’t appreciate the same chastising tactic he’s used on her countless times, especially because given his serious temper, she knows he means it for real now. "Oh I’m sorry Harry, I didn’t know what sympathy actually sounds like coming from your mouth," she quips back in sarcasm.

The response makes him livid, "you tell me I’m a jerk every chance you got, but you sure know how to be a bitch, y/n" he spats before finishing wiping the counter. As his hand reaches the end of the surface, he finds his half-empty glass of tequila, most of the ice completely melted through the amber liquor by now. He takes one long sip in a vain attempt to calm his nerves but the alcohol merely tingles the back of his palate and warms its way down his stomach. His mind is still burden with frustrations he doesn’t know how to alleviate; the end of term, the exhibition, his career’s future, and y/n’s stubborn nature all wreaking havoc in his tired brain.

"Shut the fuck up, Harry. I didn’t ask for your attention," y/n retorts, trying not to expose how bruised her heart is. While he’d mocked her plenty during the past two years, he’d never resorted to calling her names, unlike her; so the insult does more damage than she’s willing to admit, even coming from Harry. And to think she’d thought of him as a half decent being not three days ago…

"Right, I forgot only anonymous bastards are worthy enough of your attention," he replies before checking the shelves behind the bar to make sure they’re stocked enough for the next shift. "And even when they turn out to be cowards, you still choose them over the people that are actually around you. You need to open your eyes and wake up, it’s pathetic."

Y/n has almost finished cleaning her area but at this point, she’s ready to call it quits and run as fast as she can, away from him. "Go fuck yourself, you don’t know anything you’re talking about," she manages to croak past her swelling throat and quivering lips. The man in front of her is breaking her heart even though he’s never had it in his calloused hands, and y/n doesn’t know why.

"Fuck this, ’m done," he quite literally throws in the towel, leaving it in a bowl on the counter before making his way back to his drink. In a swift movement, he grabs the bottle of tequila to pour himself a new one. "You keep blindly mopin’ about your precious painter, I don’t care, you’re probably right anyway," he says before chugging the bitter spirit in one go and slamming the bottle of tequila down on the counter in a loud bang that has y/n jump in fear. "I don’t anything about bloody anything," is all Harry says as he locks eyes with hers, before making his out of the bar, not bothering to put the bottle back to its rightful place.

Y/n is still trembling from the exchange, and it takes her a hot minute before she can finish what she was doing. As she resumes wiping the floor with shaky hands, she tries to even her breath out. Why had he been so hurtful? What could have possibly impelled him to utter such malicious words? The questions are still reeling in her mind as she twists water out of the mop for the last time. Once the floor is spotless and all the tables are no longer sticky with spilled alcohol, chairs stacked up onto them upside-down, she makes her way back behind the bar, checking that Harry didn’t leave any of his duties unattended before his theatrical exit. She spots the bottle of tequila sitting lonely on the counter but just as she goes to reach for it, she freezes.

It’s a cold shower pouring over her body all at once then, dots finally connected as her eyes read over the label of the fat bottle she’s seen him take out of the stack countless times before. Everything that happened for the last few months falls into place and suddenly there is no mystery left to be solved. ‘You’re probably right, I don’t know anything about bloody anything’ Harry’s final words keep playing on a maddening loop in her head.

Y/n takes in the small bee design printed under what is unmistakably the last piece of the puzzle she’s been craving to complete: one word that has her stomach churning in a myriad of emotions she can’t possibly untangle. Anger, relief, surprise, fear, curiosity, warmth and more, are all rushing through her in one colossal wave, because printed on that bottle in black capital letters is the brand of Harry’s favorite drink: Patrón.

***

The next day, y/n navigates through her classes purely on autopilot mode. She doesn’t quite remember picking the floral blouse nor the light-shade pair of jeans she’s wearing, and barely recalls the brief conversation she had with an old lady during her bus commute to campus. One thing she sure as hell hasn’t paid one iota of attention to, is the behavioral psychology class she’s just got out of. Two hours she spent pacing up and down every twist and turn of her mind only to come out more lost than she’d started. Add to that the fact she’s running on 4 hours of sleep, she’s quite simply a recipe for disaster. Fortunately for y/n, she isn’t due at work tonight, having called sick this morning, because sleep-deprivation aside, she still has no idea how she’s supposed to face Harry.

The revelation of the night prior is still something she has trouble wrapping her mind around, as it goes against every constructed opinion she’s made about her life. Harry is Patrón, she’s pretty sure. Harry, the allegedly conceited asshole she’s been bickering with since their first minute spent together, is the mind-blowing painter that had taken residence in y/n’s heart since the first time she set eyes on his art. The two characters have yet to fully merge into one in her mind, despite the fact it makes perfect sense to her.

The Brighton painting, the one inspiring her necklace, it was all true. And with that revelation comes two intimidating truths y/n is kind of scared to delve into: one, all this time she’s been right to think she is the muse behind this all scheme; two, if Harry is the mystery painter, that makes her Harry’s muse more specifically. And that’s the part of the equation she struggles the most with, because up until last night she was pretty positive that the twat despised her (the night in itself being prime evidence of that) but now she doesn’t know what to think.

It’s like there are two versions of Harry battling in her brain, splitting her heart in halves; the one that made her miserable at work for years and made her cry last night, and the one she’d gotten a glimpse of at the night of the exhibition. The one that hid a fully blossomed bouquet of emotions behind teasing banter to protect a diamond-rough talent that had the power to touch just about anyone’s sensibility. The one that had her wrapped around his finger in awe with that beautiful mind of his. The question is, can she or will she see this Harry the next time she’s facing him or will all their bad-blood history come crashing down on her instead? Y/n doesn’t think she’s ever fit more the definition of having mixed feelings about something.

On her way home, she makes sure she doesn’t fall asleep against the bus window, despite yawning every thirty-seconds. It feels like the trip is taking forever, she almost lets out a cry of relief when the automated voice finally announces her upcoming stop. Once she’s thanked the driver and stepped out of the bus, she’s met with a gust of brisk air, instantly blowing her hair all over her face. She draws the lapels of her coat tighter around her shivering body and starts making her way towards her apartment building.

It doesn’t take her long to complete the walking distance to her place and tread her way up the stairs, but the sight greeting her in the hallway of her floor almost sends her down on her ass. Because right across from her door, is Harry hanging yet another one of his chefs-d’oeuvre. He’s dressed casually in his usual jeans and t-shirt ensemble, with a thick grey hoodie covering his broad upper-half in a feeble attempt to combat to cold weather raging outside. As he reaches in the back pocket of his jeans to retrieve a sharpie - no doubt to apply his trademark signature - the movements of her feet on the laminated floor catch his attention. Spinning around in a jolt of surprise, he realizes too late that he’s been caught red-handed. There was no going back this time, but he doesn’t necessarily see it as a bad thing.

There is a short moment where they are both just standing in front of each other a few feet apart, as their eyes bounce back in silent conversation, before y/n softly breaths out, "so it is you." The weight of her words has him swallow in nervousness, "of course it’s me," he replies in a gentle tone. A smile pulls at his lips when he realizes she’s not running for the hills or bursting out in a furious rant.

"I just…how? why? I mean, you gotta help me understand Harry, cause I’m pretty fucking lost over here," she blurts out with wide doe-eyes begging him for answers. Her obvious jitters earn her a soft chuckle., and for a hot minute all he can bring himself to do is study her snuggled figure and the way she keeps fiddling with her keys. It’s so endearing to him, if they were at his place, he would have offered to make some tea. The thought has him hesitantly looking at the door across from them, "can we maybe talk inside?" he inquires, beckoning his head towards her place. "I know I haven’t given you much reasons to let me in, but I promise I’ll explain everythin’," he feels the need to convince her, " after that, you can kick me out if you still want."

The last bit has her smile timidly, "yeah, let’s go inside. I wanna hear what you have to say," y/n admits as she steps to the door and unlocks it. She’s intrigued by how gentle and well-mannered the man following her to the living room seems to be, light years away from the rowdy lad she’s come to know.

For a second, y/n is worries about the state she’s left the apartment before she rushed to classes this morning, but her apprehensions quickly go away once she takes in the sight of her rather tidied living space. A velvety throw blanket is covering the couch in a makeshift comforter from the way she spent the night on the couch, and apart from a few class notes scattered across the coffee table, everything seems to be where it’s supposed to be.

They both discard their top layers on the armchair adjacent to the couch, Harry slipping his hoodie off above his head in one swift gesture, while y/n simply lets the sleeves of her coat slide down her arms. He brushes his hair back into submission with one swoop of his hand, before sitting down on the couch and directing his attention back at her. She decides to leave some distance between them, taking the other end of the sofa and the move desperately makes him wonder what thoughts are running through her head. The only way to uncover them however, is if he starts talking first; and so he does.

"So uhm," he starts clumsily, clearing his throat, "remember the first day we met, you walked in on me telling some stoner guy off," he watches closely as y/n nods. "It was our first ever conversation and we fought through the whole thing. I was pretty pissed when it happened, not gonna lie, but once I got home and slept it off, I thought it was really cool how you’d stand up for that random guy." The admission has her eyebrows raising but he keeps going, "and okay maybe, just maybe, I found it a lil hot, the way you tried to put me back in my place."

He stops to make sure he hasn’t offended her, "tried to?" she challenges instead, Harry laughing at her objection.

"Right, maybe you did. My poin’ is, no-one really calls me out on my bullshit, so it was kinda refreshing that you did. But then the next day, you were still mad at me, an’ we bickered that time too. It felt like you’d already made up your mind about me. So in a way, all I had left was doin’ this thing where I push your buttons and rile you up. Know it doesn’t make sense, but it was the only way you’d interact with me so I kept doin’ it, because being jerk-Harry was better than having nothin’."

He pauses for a minute and waits as y/n swallows all the information. All this time he’s been teasing her just to have some sort of connection, no matter how perverse, while she thought he just hated her guts. When she shares this thought with him, he shakes his head with a smile, "never hated you. If I ‘ad, I wouldn’t have bothered talking t’you."

Suddenly, her chest feels lighter, as though all this months of anguish had evaporated from her mind, now that she knew their rocky relationship was the result of miscommunication, "sound logic, Styles," she replies in good humor. Then she remembers the El Patrón’s fiasco so she urges him to go on.

"My final. Right. Well as you know, we were given the assignment at the beginning of the semester, and I came up with the idea of creating this alter ego that would plant his work around campus. I thought by taking people’s by surprise I was guaranteed strong genuine reactions. People are always more opened when they don’t expect it. Like if I had just brought my paintings on the night of the exhibition, the same people wouldn’t have reacted that way, probably because they’d know they’d be observed so they would have adjusted their behavior accordingly." They both know he’s getting slightly off trail, but watching y/n so enthralled with his words makes it hard for him to stop. Fact is, for month she’s dreamed of meeting and picking at the brain of this mysterious painter, and now that he’s sitting on her couch, walking her through his thought process, she finally feels like she is.

"Anyway," he resumes the storytelling, "I started with that painting in the library and it worked so perfectly, I knew if I followed the plan I would have somethin’ really good. But then you just had to go on an’ rave about the paintings without knowing they were mine, and it was killin’ me inside. Because I knew if there was a real chance I could change your mind about me, I’d do anythin’. But no matter how much I wanted to, I couldn’t tell you. Couldn’t jeopardize my final… so I tried to tell you through the art. I started painting stuff that made me think of you and placed the pieces in locations I knew you’d pass through. It was the only way I could tell you."

Harry’s confession had Y/n’s heart beating so hard in her chest, she can almost feel it thumping through her ears. Her next question is on the edge of her lips, but she takes her time tracing each of Harry’s graceful features until his eyes catch hers, "tell me what, Harry?" she asks barely above a whisper.

His response comes in three bashful steps: first his lips curve into a shy grin that has him look down with rosy cheeks; then his hand inches its way along the soft fabric of the couch to gently hold her fingers, thumb grazing over her knuckles; and as he looks up from their joined hands to connect their gaze once more, he finally spells it, loud and clear, "tell you that I like you, y/n."

The sentiment sends her own emotions reeling in a tornado of passion. This is it, this is what she’s been half-knowingly wishing for, and now that she knows the truth in full, she’s ready to embrace it. Her eyes twinkle in bliss, a growing smile illuminating her face as she squeezes his hand in a silent invitation to slide closer to her. Harry is much happy to oblige, and once he’s sitting directly next to her, knees grazing her own, he cups her face with one of his bear-paw hands. A few strands of hair are caught in the cuddling gesture, but none of them care. Harry just keeps smiling at her, waiting for her next move, and his beam grows two sizes wide when she mirrors his affection. "I like this side of you," she whispers fondly, as her thumb draws slow circles across the skin of his cheeks.

Harry closes his eyes at her words, "this is the real me, I promise," he reassures in an almost pleading tone, vulnerability seeping through. And y/n feels like she’s lying down on cloud nine really, because dropping his fortress of pretentiousness is all she’s ever want from him. With a hushed ‘okay’, she finally brings her mouth to taste the rose-tinted flesh of his. It starts off chaste and slow, lips dovetailed in perfect symbioses like they are made to cohabit, but quickly the kiss heats up to a full on make out session. "Show me, then", y/n mutters out when they part for a breather.

Harry slowly nods his head, before helping her straddle his lap and y/n immediately brings both her hands to his neck once she settles her hips against his. The friction already had them deeply inhale, trying not to work themselves up too fast, but Harry doesn’t think he’ll have much self-control when it comes to y/n. Already he can feel his cock fattening up inside his brief, the tingling sensation making him roll his hips up into hers. Their lips are back in a sensual duel, tongues tentatively taking their turn to lick their way inside the other’s mouth. Every now and then, he teases her bottom lip with a graze of his teeth, and the move as her tugging the root of his hair at the back of his head every single time without a fail.

He loves discovering all the quirks and tells of her body, thinks he could spend hours on hand learning every single one of her curves and memorizing each of her special spots. The smell of her fragrance infiltrates his nostrils as he dips his head to her neck to plant open-month kisses along her skin. Head angled towards the ceiling to make room for his ministrations, y/n can’t do much but let her hands scout any expanse of skin accessible to her. She starts at his shoulder, squeezing the flesh to feel out the strong muscle laying underneath, before making her way down his tone arms, then to his hands currently holding onto to her waist. She gives them an affectionate pinch at the same time she presses down onto him with a deep moan, and Harry retaliates with a buck of his own.

As he starts kissing down the exposed skin of her cleavage, y/n finally drops her head to place a tender kiss to his hairline. One of her hand is back at his neck, holding him firmly to her chest as he licks at the valley of her breasts down her sternum. The other worms its way underneath his shirt from the neckline, nails grazing down his back in soft enough pressure not to leave any marks.

Harry’s descent is obstructed by the soft material of her blouse, so he takes the garment off of her in one swoop, and places his hands back on her newly exposed body, rubbing up and own the skin. As his mouth goes back to the supple flesh of her breasts, y/n increases the pace of her hips grinding on his cock. The sensations seem to be not enough and too much at the same time for her; the heavy material still covering their most sensitive parts in the way of her pleasure, while Harry’s work has her going into overdrive under his velveteen mouth and calloused fingers. She starts kissing her way up from his shoulder to the edge of his jaw, and Harry revels in the sound of her moans tickling his ear.

Done with the excess of fabric between them two, y/n grips at the top of his shirt and pulls it upwards, leaving him shirtless. "Fuck, I didn’t know you have so many tattoos," she babbles against his lips, while her hands smooth over the ink.

"Plenty you don’t know about me, love," Harry chirps as he bask in the praise and the feeling of her skin of his.

He then circles one arm around her waist to bring them chest to chest, and the contact has y/n once again intensify the friction between their crotches. "Wanna find out," she murmurs against his neck while she grinds on his clothed member, "Harry, please take me to bed."

He jolts at the quick bite she delivers to his neck, the impish gesture her way of saying ‘now’ but before she can make her way out of his lap to bring him to her room, he presses her back down with both hands on her waist. "Nuh uh, y’not goin’ anywhere. Want you to come once, b’fore I take you to bed, pet," he says, smoothing his hands over her ass to guide her rocking motions. The term of endearment sounds so innocent yet dirty all at once, it sends a chill down her spine. Nobody had called her that before.

"Can’t," she shakes her head, "can’t feel you through the jeans."

"Alright then, stand up," he calmly asserts and she doesn’t hesitate to comply, standing in between his spread legs, in her flimsy bra and jeans. "Take ‘em off then, ’s what you want no?" he sends her a tantalizing look and bites at his lips as he watches her peel the pants off her legs. He can’t help the light squeeze he gives himself through his own jeans, as y/n stands in front of him awaiting his next instructions. "Come sit on my thigh now, think should be enough to make this pretty pussy tingle in all the right places, no?"

Y/n’s insides are already twisting in a knot as she settles back on his lap and lets the rough material of his jeans against the softness of her cotton panties spread a prickling sensation through her pelvis area. Quickly, she resumes undulating her hips, gripping back at Harry’s neck to pull him in a languid kiss, pleasure vibrating against their lips. It is not long before her pace picks up, and her eyes shut at the intensity of her bliss. "That’s it, pet. Already makin’ a mess of me. You’re doin’ so well," he coaxes her with his words.

As promised, y/n feels the lips of her sensitivity start to throb at her impending release, the sensation making her clamp her thighs tighter around his meaty limb. As her knee now presses against his bulge, Harry cries his sudden pleasure out in her mouth, and that’s all it takes for her to let her orgasm consume her. She unravels on top of him, one of her hands shooting to cup at her pussy in an attempt to quell the overwhelming throb. Harry draws soothing caresses down her back as he look at the sticky mess she’s left in her panties, damp patch matching the one tainting the material of his jeans. "All ruined, just as they should be," he smirks at the sight before giving her a sweet kiss.

Flushed skin and blown pupils, she slowly regains her breath, "take off your pants and take me to bed now?" she requests.

"You’re quite demanding for someone who’s just gotten off," he keeps taunting her. After all, winding her up has always been one of his favorite thing to do, and dare he say in the past two years, he’s gotten quite good at pushing her buttons. Now he’s got new ones to figure out and play with, the thoughts has him pulsing in his jeans.

Y/n doesn’t relent in her advances, she’s never been one to bow at his mockery, "thought you like how bossy I could be. Something about the way I put you in your place, if my memory serves right."

"Anytime, anywhere, you’re the boss of me, love. But this," he cups at her cunt, adding pressure on her clit, "this is mine to have. Understood?"

Y/n’s about to combust from all the desire firing up every one of her nerve-endings. His words might be the strongest aphrodisiac she’s ever experienced, she can’t wait to see what more tricks in has up his sleeves. "Now get up and show me the way to your room, pet," he softly commands before leaving a peck on her cheek.

They both get up from the couch, and y/n guides them both down the hallway to her room, her hand wrapped in his tightly. Once they’re standing by the bed, Harry is surprised to face a patient y/n, biting her lips and awaiting his next directive. He doesn’t think he’s ever been more turned on in his life, "undress me, love" he murmurs against her skin after kissing her forehead.

His jeans are quickly discarded but before his boxer briefs follow suit, y/n can’t help but tease him in reprisal, "looks like I’m not the only one who made a mess in their panties."

He lets out a boisterous laugh while she smears open mouth kisses along his stretching jaw, "mmm, I’d rather make a mess somewhere else," his innuendo causing her to gasp while he works the strap of her bra. Once she’s gotten rid of his last piece of clothing, his cock springs up, free of it’s confines, dollop of pre-come already pearling at his tip, and sticking to the skin of his stomach.

With a gentle grip at her hair, he has y/n’s head tilted backward, to let his mouth make its way towards her already pebbled nipples. Since she can’t look down, y/n blindly reaches out to wrap her hand around Harry’s thick shaft and starts massaging him in languid strokes. "Your hand feels so fuckin’ good around me, pet, I wanna fuck you so badly," he hisses around her nipple, before kissing his way back up to her lips.

He starts backing her towards the bed in small steps, but she brings a hand to his chest at the feeling of the edge of the mattress brushing against the back of her knee, "wait, wait, wanna taste you first," she insists and Harry doesn’t think he could ever say no to that face, no matter how much he wants to just sink home inside of her in this moment.

"Fuck, you’re killin’ me, love," he pinches at her waist and lays his forehead against hers, "you want my cock in your pretty mouth, before I drive it home in your cunt, is that it?" She nods, eyes turning into two lustful fireballs. "Okay, love, but y’ can’t keep it on your tongue fo’ too long, cause I really need to fuck you, alright?"

Y/n hastens to lower herself when he bids her "right then, on your knees and open wide fo’ me," and her brows furrow in confusion as she watches him stray from her spot. Picking up a plush cushion from her bed, he places it on the ground for her to knee upon, "there love, want you to be comfortable," he runs his fingers through her hair, and her heart grows three sizes bigger at how tender he can be in amidst his filthy ways.

Sensually, y/n brings her lips around the crown of his cock, her tongue teasing its way across the salty skin. Once she’s licked up all the previous mess, she starts working her way down his cock, hand stroking at the base. After bopping up and down a few time, she removes her month from his swelling cock, and lets a string of spit fall down onto its head and make its way to his balls. "S’right, pet. Get me wet," Harry rasps in appreciation. Now that she’s got him properly slicked, she goes back to pumping his hardening cock and takes him into her warm inviting mouth, determined to have him all the way inside. She feels her throat expands to accommodate his thickness, and the pressure makes Harry tighten his hold in her hair, "fuck, that’s it, love. Take me good."

Muscles already tensing up in preparation for his climax, when y/n’s hand finds his full and swollen balls to roll them together like dice, he is quick to calm her zeal, "Christ pet, you gotta stop before I can’t help myself," but his tone hardens when she defies his demand, "come on now, s’enough."

Once she pulls off, the sight of her flushed face and puffy lips induces an animalistic groan to come out from his chest, as he thumbs through the wetness coating her chin. Taking the hand resting on his hip to guide her up, he captures her lips in a searing kiss, the taste of his arousal blending in their mouths.

His hands come down to knead at the flash of her ass, before he scoops her up and on the bed with a quick flex of his biceps. "Harry, please," she whines in impatience, hands gripping at his sides to pull him down against her. His rock hard cock slides against her clothed pussy, pins and needles cruising along their skin and only fueling their eagerness.

"Need me in your belly, pet?" Harry keeps working her up, as he slides her soiled panties down her legs, "need me to fuck you so good, you forget I was ever a jerk?"

She’s putty in his hold, legs wrapping around his waist to feel the pressure of his member on her bare lips , "yes, yes, I wan’ it," she pleads.

Harry would love to tease her further, have her writhing and proper begging underneath him, but at this point it would be self-torture to even consider. Instead he pumps at his shaft to give himself some relief, their sex so close his knuckles graze at her clit every time his fist comes at the top. "You ready?" Harry utters softly while spreading and skimming her cleft with the head of his cock. It has y/n gripping at his hair, a series of delirious ‘yes’ tumbling form her mouth, so he doesn’t wait a second more to push his tip past her threshold and begins his descent in her warmth. "Fuck, t’feels so good. So wet, and tight, and warm," he thinks out loud once he’s stuffer her full, balls pressing against her ass.

Y/n whimpers against his lips, urging him to start moving to quell the building pressure coiling in her belly. A slow roll of his hips finally gives her reprieve causing her to moan in gratitude. She’s already so close, it baffles her how this man could have her coming apart at the seams without doing much. His thrusts starts gaining zeal then, betraying his own yearning to take the final leap. "So tight, love. Can feel you squeezin’ me, are you close already? Is my girl gonna cum fo’ me again?" he grunts in her ear while he pounds into her dripping cunt. Y/n doesn’t offer a response, too caught up in a daze of bliss, but her clenching muscles is all the answer he needs to start nudging his thumb at her clit. A several flicks across the sensitive bud later, her orgasm is pulsing through every bone and fiber of her body, walls hugging Harry’s cock so tight, it has to pause his hammering.

Waiting for her to catch her breath, he peppers delicate kisses along her cheek, "was that good, love? Think you can give me another, uhm?" he asks when she’s regained some of her senses. The pressure at his groin is growing more and more the longer his cock remains unmoving entombed within her vice, and the luscious agony must be written all over his face, "yes, Harry, wanna be good for you" y/n cups his jaw tenderly.

He nods at her approval, "good girl," delivers a sweet earnest kiss to her pouty lips as he pulls out and spins her around to lay on her stomach. His hand brushes the hair off her skin so he can sew a string of kisses at her shoulder blades and neck. Painfully red, his cock is propped between her buttcheeks, "can I take you like that?" he punctuates his inquiry by rolling his hips backward, tip lingering at her soaked entrance. Y/n clutches the sheets firmly, as she murmurs a faint ‘please’, back arching at the thrills consuming her mind.

Harry plunges in her wet core in one smooth swing, hand digging at her hip to keep her steady as the other one interlaces with hers to lay on the mattress above her head. Unforgiving lunges have y/n cinch around him, face buried in the sheets and muffling salacious wails of pleasure, and he doesn’t think he’ll be able to steer from his end for much longer. He slows his cadence to steady and firm strokes, slipping a hand around her waist to polish her swell.

A million tremors spark off the onset of Y/n’s climax as she shudders in a firework of ecstasy. Harry doesn’t relent until he’s worked her through completion and can no longer stop the coil in his loins from snapping. His release fills her in several spurts of wet warmth before he flops down next to her, positively fucked out.

They both lay unmoving in comfortable bliss for a few minutes, before y/n plops her head on his chest and an arm around his torso, her leg sneaking in between his. "Well, here goes two years of sexual tension," Harry says jokingly, fingers drawing abstracts design on the skin of her back. It might just be his favorite canvas to paint on from now, he muses before chastising himself at the onslaught of filthy thoughts tagging along. A playful slap on his abdomen takes his mind out of the gutter, "don’t ruin the moment," y/n says in fake admonition before placing a tender kiss on the spot she just abused.

"M’sorry, love. M’just really chuffed to be in your bed finally," the last word reminding her that while she’s struggled to come to term with her feelings for him, ransacking her mind for a possible change of heart, he’d only seen her in but one light. The revelation still has her floored and giddy, "can I ask you something?" she asks as there was still one question pacing back and forth the pathways of her mind. Harry hums in acquiescence, "anythin’ love, by brain is yours."

She feels his hand cradling her skull followed by a small peck to her forehead, and she smiles at the gesture, "why did you stay away that night at the exhibition when you got the prize? Why not coming forward?" It’s been bugging her brain since it happened. Although she didn’t have much insight on anything at the time, most of the pieces of the puzzle fell in place after the big reveal; but this, she still can’t make sense of.

Harry lets out a long breath, organizing his thoughts, "two reasons," he starts off tiredly. "One, I kinda like having this secret business going on, and like, as long as nobody knows, I am in control of how and when it happens, you know? And the moment I let go of that, I can’t go back." He searches her face for any hint of confusion but she’s just patiently listening. "Two, when we bumped into each other at the gala, I got convinced you’d never see me differently regardless of how good a painter I was; and that had become a big part of who El Patrón was."

It’s the first time she hears his alter ego’s name from his mouth and with how flowingly natural it sounded coming out of his lips, y/n suspects that it’d been a conscious decision on his part. She recalls their interaction that night, the way they fell in their usual ways of ping-ponging vindictive words until one of them has enough and leaves the premises (usually y/n). A lump starts forming in her throat at the recollection of all the other fights they’ve had and how they’d all been pointless wastes of time and energy, now that she knows she is meant to be in his arms. She wishes things could have been different but the warmth of his body around her overweighs her regrets. They’re here now, looking bright toward the future, and it’s all that matters.

"I’ll keep your secret if you want, be the Lilly to your Hannah Montana," she tells him lightly before they both laugh at the silly reference.

Happiness and glee has Harry tightening his hold around her shoulder, "nah, I don’t wanna play double-agents anymore. I wanna be the guy who gets the girl." He dips his head to catch her lips between his own, reveling in their newfound intimacy. Turning her face against his chest, Y/n impresses her bashful smile on his swallow-tattooed skin, before she lays a trail of pecks tickling the area underneath his armpits, "well, you got me now."

➪ Masterlist

#harry styles one shot #harry styles fic #harry styles imagine #Harry fic #enemies to lovers #angst #so much angst #smut #I didn't think I could be this filthy lol #uni au #artstudent!harry #art #harry fanfic #harry styles writing #reader insert #harry styles au

178 notes · View notes

ppangjae · 4 years

Text

Song for a Little Sparrow | Jaehyun

SUMMARY. As a burnt out painter, you packed one suitcase and flew a one-way trip to Paris in hopes of finding your passion again. In the city of love, the last thing you expected was to bump into a man who doesn’t believe in love. But you do, and you find yourself showing him the wonders of love and falling in love. Just don’t fall in love with him.

or: “How can you not believe in love and think it’s stupid when you’re in Paris, the city of love?”

WORD COUNT. 13.7k+ words (BIG OOF)

playlist. howl’s moving castle | song for a little sparrow by patricia kaas | loose by daniel caesar | we find love by daniel caesar

author’s note. yall she is finally here. oof. this is unedited, so please keep that in mind if you ever come across a typo! also, i just wanted to say thank you for 1k! happy reading~

“You’re going to regret doing this!”

But you don’t.

Your father’s voice echoes through your head as you’re stepping out on the balcony of your hotel room to get a good look of the Eiffel Tower that’s located a couple of blocks away. A soft, happy sigh escapes your lips as you bask in the sunlight that’s hitting your skin. You bring up your fresh mug of coffee to your lips to take a sip.

Your father thinks you’re many things, one of them being absolutely crazy. The look of sheer panic and shock on his face as you walked out of the house with nothing but one suitcase and a one-way plane ticket to Paris remains etched in your mind. You wish you could draw it out and frame it just to put it up in your room for inspiration. Now that you think about it, you are crazy. You’re crazy and impulsive. It’s not normal for you to pack your things and leave the city months after your successful art exhibition. What’s normal is that you should be sitting in your art room, painting on canvas for your next, upcoming art exhibition that everyone is waiting for. But the view of the Eiffel Tower and the atmosphere of love surrounding you is just too hard to resist. And no, you don’t regret doing this.

You might.

But you’ll worry about that later.

“Why are you calling me so early in the morning?”

You let out a snort. Jungwoo’s pixelated face appears on your screen when he flips to the front camera of his phone. “Good morning to you too.”

“Holy shit, why is it so bright?” He squints his eyes that are blinded by the sunrise that you’re showing him with your phone’s camera. It takes him two seconds to realize it. “Why the fuck are you in Paris?”

“Vacation.” You flash him an innocent smile. But it’s a smile he knows so well. “I’m here for vacation—”

“You and I both know that you are not in Paris for vacation.” He cuts you off.

“Fine. I’m burnt out.”

“But—”

“And bored,” you add, cutting him off. “Which is why I’m in Paris.”

“I wish I was rich enough to fly to Paris just because I felt bored.” He scoffs, sitting up in his bed. “Why did you call me again? Wait, does your father know that you’re in Paris?”

“Yes, he knows.” You answer his second question. As for his first question.. “I called you because I can’t choose which art museum I should go to.”

“Are you fucking kidding me right now? It’s three in the morning, Y/N—”

“The Louvre, Petit Palais, or Musée d’Orsay?”

He falls silent for a brief moment. You take this as a chance to take another sip of your coffee that’s run cold. You wince, placing your mug of coffee onto the patio table.

“The Louvre.”

“Nice choice.” You smile. “Musée d’Orsay it is.”

“I’m seriously going to kill you when you come back,” he lets out a string of curses. “Why’d you even ask me in the first place?”

“Sleep tight, love.”

He scoffs. He falls back against his bed. “Fuck you.”

And he hangs up without saying goodbye.

“Keep the change.”

The ticket vendor looks utterly speechless by his presence. He can tell by the way the coins clink together from the nervous shaking of her hands. She stares at him for a second longer before smiling sheepishly. She retreats her hand and places the coins back into the cash register.

“Enjoy your visit, Mr. Jeong.”

He gives her a timid smile before venturing off into the art museum. It’s normal to see people doing double-takes on him whenever he’s in the same room as them. He’s used to being distracted and losing his train of thought when someone lightly nudges him with a notepad and pen. But ever since he landed in Paris, he’s gotten a ton of looks and a ton of autograph requests from different people and he’s not sure what to feel or how to react.

He finds himself walking into Pierre-Auguste Renoir’s exhibition. The room is somewhat empty, with an old couple admiring the Dance at Bougival and a couple of teenagers taking pictures of the art. He spots a familiar painting at the far end of the room. He’s drawn to it with his feet having a mind of its own, leading him to the painting.

Dance in the Country. His eyes scan the picture. His eyes stop on the unidentified woman watching the couple dance from the background. She must have a story, he thinks to himself, before his thoughts are cut short when—

“I’m sorry to interrupt, but are you Jeong Jaehyun, by any chance?”

He tears his gaze from the painting to meet eyes with a young woman. She looks like a student. As he’s nodding his head, her eyes light up and she immediately rummages through her bag to pull out his best-selling book. Along with a copy of his book, she pulls out a permanent marker.

“I love your work!” She exclaims. “It’s such a huge coincidence bumping into you at an art museum. Wow. I can’t believe it.”

Adorable. He gives her a warm smile as he gently takes the book and marker from her small hands. He takes the cap off the marker with his teeth. While holding the cap in between his teeth, he makes his signature on the front cover of his book. The young woman looks up at him with admiration. Once he signs the book, he hands her the book and places the cap back onto the marker.

“Wow. Thank you so much! I won’t disturb you any longer.” She smiles. She looks starstruck. “I hope you enjoy your stay here in Paris and I look forward to your next book!”

He chuckles. “Thank you. It was nice to meet you.”

The young lady sends him a small wave before joining her group of friends. As she reaches up to them, they start teasing her for being such a shy baby. His face softens. He shifts his focus back to the painting in front of him. But as he’s turning to look back at the painting, he notices a figure standing beside him from the corner of his eye.

He glances to his left to see a woman who looks somewhat around his age. She’s wearing a long strap dress that flows all the way down to her ankles. Underneath the dress, she’s wearing a white t-shirt. Her long, wavy hair stops just a couple of inches below her shoulders with strands framing her face. He turns back to look at the painting.

“Why do you think there’s a woman hiding in the background of the painting?”

The voice makes you snap out of your gaze. You find yourself looking to your right to meet eyes with a handsome stranger. It takes you a couple of seconds for you to realize who’s standing right beside you. It’s Jeong Jaehyun, the best-selling poet. He’s looking back at you with an innocent gaze that you decide not to identify him as a poet whose work you admire and whose work you religiously read, but as a stranger.

You take one more look at the painting. Dance in the Country. You’ve always been intrigued by the artwork, specifically at the hidden woman watching the dancing couple in the background.

You purse your lips into a tight line. “I think she’s in love with him. That’s why she’s looking at them like that and remaining hidden.”

He folds his arms and tilts his head in confusion. “You think she’s in love with him?”

You’re still a bit taken aback that the Jeong Jaehyun is standing beside you in an art museum in Paris.

“Yes.” You simply answer his question.

He squints his eyes as he falls deep in thought. “I beg to differ.”

“You don’t think she’s in love with him?”

He shakes his head. “I don’t believe in love.”

What? Did you hear that right? “Sorry?”

“I don’t believe in love.” He repeats himself. “Actually, I think love is stupid—”

“Then why are you here?” You blurt out in shock. It comes out rudely and you expect him to feel insulted, but instead, he smirks at you. “How can you not believe in love and think love is stupid when you’re in Paris, the city of love?”

“You have a point. Why exactly am I here?” He thinks aloud.

You blink. What an odd guy. Is he really a poet? A best-selling poet? Is he really the man who wrote the books you’ve read?

“I’d love to hear you argument on how love isn’t real and how love is stupid.”

“I don’t think it needs an explanation.” He shrugs his shoulders. “It is what it is—”

“Damn, who hurt you?” You chuckle.

He has a grin playing across his lips. “If you believe in love so much, then why don’t you prove it to me?”

“How do I know that you’re not a murderer plotting my death?” You raise an eyebrow suspiciously.

“Wait, not to be cocky but,” his eyebrows furrow. “You don’t know who I am?”

You lie. “Should I know who you are?”

You know who he is. You know exactly who he is. He’s Jeong Jaehyun—

“Then that’s all the more reason as to why you should prove me wrong.” He grins. “Prove to me that love is real and that love isn’t stupid.”

“Fine.” You squint your eyes. You let out a huff of breath. “I will. I will prove you wrong, Mr. Stranger.”

He’s completely amused by you. In fact, he’s more amused at the fact that you’re trusting him so easily.

“Where shall we start?” He asks.

You scoff. His grin is immediately wiped off his face.

“Well, you’ve already started. You started the moment you got here, in Paris.”

“I have? Prove it to me.”

“Paris is the city of love! That’s more than enough of a reason as to why love exists and why love isn’t stupid.”

He squints his eyes at you before breaking out into a grin. “I think you’ll need more than that to prove me wrong.”

“I—”

“I’m Jaehyun.” He extends his hand out for you to shake. You raise an eyebrow at him, hesitating to shake his hand, but you do it anyway. His hands are soft. “And do you trust me enough to say that I’m not going to murder you but ask you to grab coffee with me instead?”

It takes you a couple of seconds to realize that you’re still shaking hands. You snap out of it, gently pulling your hand away from his. You fold your arms.

“I’m sure there’s got to be a catch.”

He tilts his head. “Well, you are going to prove to me that love is real and love isn’t stupid, right? Let me thank you in advance by getting you a cup of coffee.”

You smirk.

“Fine.”

“Great—”

“But you’re paying.”

This is going to be a long day.

“You didn’t introduce yourself to me, stranger.”

You find yourselves sitting out on a patio, waiting for your cups of coffee. You tear your gaze away from a couple taking a picture in front of the museum. Sitting right across from you, your eyes meet Jaehyun’s.

“I’m Y/N.” You chuckle. “Nothing special.”

He fiddles with the teaspoon on the table. “You don’t sound like you’re from here.”

You smile. “It’s because I’m not.”

“Vacation?”

You point at him. “Bingo.”

“Nice.” He nods his head.

Right on time, your orders arrive at the table. He ordered himself an iced Americano and you got yourself a cup of cappuccino. He takes a quick sip.

“You don’t sound like you’re from here either,” you add.

“It’s because I’m not.” He copies you.

“Vacation?”

The both of you share a look before bursting out into laughter. He points at you. “Bingo.”

There’s a sudden urge of curiosity that ignites within you. Why is the famous poet, Jeong Jaehyun, in Paris for vacation? Is he currently writing a book? Has he lost inspiration? Is that why he’s here in Paris, to reignite the inspiration he lost since his last published book?

There are a ton of questions running through your mind but it’s funny how if that is the case, you could say you’re in the same boat as him. Why are you in Paris for vacation? Are you currently working on your next exhibition? Did you lose inspiration? Is that why you’re here in Paris, to reignite the inspiration you lost since your last successful art exhibit?

There’s a reason why you bought yourself a one-way plane ticket to Paris with no intentions of flying back for a couple of weeks. You’re in Paris because you lost inspiration and not because you’re working on your next exhibition. After your last art exhibit, you found yourself spiralling into a mess and meeting a familiar friend you didn’t plan on reuniting with; artist’s block.

It was like you suddenly forgot how to pick up a paintbrush.

And that in of itself, is a huge nightmare you wish would never become the end of your career that had just started.

“What do you do for a living?” He asks. You look at him until he clears his throat. “You don’t need to answer if you don’t want to—”

“I’m a painter,” you reply. You smirk. “What kind of question is that? Are we out on a blind date or something? I don’t remember meeting you on Tinder.”

He folds his arms and leans against his chair. “You’re a painter? Like, you paint on canvas?”

“I was expecting more of an enthusiastic reaction or even better, a look of surprise.” You pout. You let out a sigh. “But yes, sorry to disappoint, I’m a painter. I pick up a paintbrush and I make strokes on canvas. That’s what I do for a living.”

He grabs his iced Americano to take another sip before slamming it down onto the table. “I’m sure you’re very talented. You should show me a couple of your paintings. Even better, why don’t you paint me like—”

“Like one of my French girls?” You cut him off.

“You probably get that a lot, huh?”

“I get that a shit ton of times that I am this close to throwing up.”

He chuckles. “God, I feel like throwing up whenever I see a couple out on the street. Like those two over there.”

You follow his line of sight. It falls upon the same couple who are still taking pictures in front of the museum. How long does it take to get a decent picture? You look back at Jaehyun.

“They’re in love. Leave them alone.”

“Yeah, I’ll definitely leave them alone.” He huffs out a breath.

“Stop being such a con artist, I’m sure you’ve been in love before.”

“I have—”

“And it was a nice feeling, right?”

“It was more so disappointing.”

Jaehyun looks at you as you suddenly clasp your hands together. The sudden movement slightly shakes the table, causing some of your drink to spill out of the mug. His eyebrows raise. You look at him with bright eyes and you beam.

“I have an idea.”

“What’s your idea?”

You smile. “I know how to prove you wrong.”

“And how are you going to prove me wrong, Y/N?”

“How long are you going to be here for?” You question.

He folds his arms. “Two weeks. I’m flying back home in two weeks.”

“Perfect!” You exclaim. “Two weeks is all I need.”

“What tricks are you hiding up your sleeve?”

“I’m going to take you out on dates for two weeks.” You explain your plan that you’ve suddenly come up with on the spot. “And on those dates, I’ll prove to you that love exists.”

“And you expect this to work?”

You nod your head. “One hundred percent.”

“How do you know for sure?” He squints his eyes at you.

“If you don’t feel some sort of way after going out on dates with me, then love isn’t real. But if you do feel some sort of way, then love is real.” You explain.

“So, basically, if I fall in love with you, love is real. But if I don’t fall in love with you, then love isn’t real?”

“Perfect!” You exclaim.

“So, your goal is to make me fall in love with you?” He laughs.

“Yes, but at the same time, no.” You try to make things clear.

“Is that even possible?”

“It’s possible!”

He looks at you as if you’ve gone insane. He’s slowly starting to regret striking up a conversation with you at the museum. He’s slowly starting to regret taking you out for a cup of coffee. He’s slowly starting to regret arguing that love isn’t real and that love is stupid—

You smile.

“It’s possible. Just don’t fall in love with me.”

“It’s seven in the morning—”

“I know.”

It is seven in the morning when Jaehyun is bombarded with new text notifications, urging him to get out of bed. He almost mistakenly picks up his pocket journal instead of his phone that’s dinging every two seconds. Scattered across the marble floors of his luxury hotel are crumpled up pieces of paper with horrible drafts of his poetry. He should probably clean that up before the housekeepers come in to vacuum the space.

“You’re really persistent on proving me wrong, huh?”

He can hear you grinning on the other line of the phone call. “I smell victory already. Now, get your ass out of bed. We’re going out on your first date.”

“We’re already going out on my first date?” Jaehyun smirks. “Shouldn’t we get to know each other first?”

You deadpan, rolling on the balls of your feet as you wait for the bus to arrive. There are two things you learned about Jeong Jaehyun for the past twenty-four hours you’ve encountered him. Flirty. You’re not sure if being a poet means you’re automatically a hopeless romantic or someone who’s incredibly great at flirting, but just by his eyes and the way he interacts with people show how flirty he can be. Charming. Jeong Jaehyun has an aura that he carries around with him whenever he’s out in public. He has a unique charm that draws people to him like a magnet. You consider yourself one of those people, now that you’re waiting for a bus that leads you to the address of his hotel.

“You know my name, isn’t that already enough?”

“How do I know that you’re not a murderer plotting my death?” He copies you and it makes you let out a scowl.

“If I was a murderer, I would’ve had you murdered by now.” He giggles and you find yourself smiling.

“What should I wear to this date, Y/N?” He teases.

The bus arrives. It takes you a couple of seconds to answer his question. You finally get the chance to answer his question when you take a seat next to the window. “You should wear something comfortable.”

“Like pajamas?”

“Alright, not too comfortable.” You laugh.

“Are you on the way? Are you picking me up in a luxury car?” He opens the closet to skim through his limited amount of clothing that he brought with him. His hands stop when they reach a loose white t-shirt. He takes it off the hanger along with a pair of jeans and a leather belt.

“What do you take me for? A millionaire?”

“More like a billionaire.”

“Shut up.”

Half an hour later, you find yourself standing in front of Hôtel de Crillon. You’re staring at the luxury hotel with your mouth slightly hanging open in awe. As a bus drives past you, your eyes trail down towards the entrance and your eyes meet with a familiar pair.

“Hello there,” you flash him a warm smile.

He shoves his hands into his pockets. He tilts his head at you. “Are you not going to compliment how good I look in my outfit?”

You’re rolling your eyes for the nth time. “You look great—”

“Great but not handsome?”

You frown. “Don’t push it.”

The closer he gets to you, the more nervous you get. You’re not sure why you’re the one feeling nervous when he should be the one feeling jittery. As he approaches you, he boldly throws an arm over your shoulder. He looks down at you. As you slowly look up to meet his gaze, you find your heart skipping a beat too many. He doesn’t look great, he looks charming—

“You look beautiful on this fine day, Y/N. Shall we get going to our date location?”

“How romantic. For a first date, that is.”

Jaehyun peers up at the view in front of him until his trance is disrupted by a little girl on a bike that zooms past him. A soft smile spreads across his lips as he scans the area. The Luxembourg Palace stands right in front of him along with a fountain filled with scattered play boats for kids and a wide grass field that’s perfect for picnic dates.

“Do you like it?”

He glances at you. “I love it.”

“Great!” You exclaim. “We should probably find a spot underneath a tree to have our small picnic.”

He looks down at the medium-sized bag slung over your shoulder. He feels slightly guilty for letting you carry around what seems like a heavy bag on the trip to the garden. “I was wondering why you brought that bag with you.”

You look up at him with bright eyes. It blinds him. “Well, now you know.”

As the both of you are walking across the grass field to sit underneath a tree, you are stopped by a man around your age. He’s holding a film camera in one hand and his phone in the other. You look at him for a brief moment before your eyes land on a beautiful woman sitting on a picnic blanket behind him.

“Excuse me,” the man hesitantly says, making Jaehyun stop in his tracks. Jaehyun quirks an eyebrow questioningly, prompting the man to continue. “Do you mind taking a picture of my girlfriend and I? I have a film camera and my phone. I’ll teach you how to use the film camera.”

Jaehyun turns to look at you as if he’s asking you for permission. “I—”

“Sure!” You exclaim, letting out a soft giggle.

“Oh, thank you so much.” You both hear a shy voice say from behind the man. The woman whom you now identify as the man’s girlfriend, gives you both a shy wave before her cheeks flush pink.

“Do you want photos taken on both the film camera and the phone?” You question.

The man nods his head. “Yes, please. Do you know how to operate the film camera?”

“Fortunately, I do.” You chuckle, gesturing the both of them to get ready for the picture.

Jaehyun’s awkwardly standing next to you, watching you interact with the couple. He’s never felt so awkward in his entire life. He finds himself looking at you as you’re taking a photo of the couple with the phone first.

“Alright, get comfortable with each other. Yes! That’s perfect!” You say with a warm smile. Jaehyun diverts his gaze towards the couple. They’re sitting next to each other with the man’s arm thrown over his girlfriend’s shoulder. “Alright, one, two, three, smile!”

On the count of three, the woman sneakily pecks her boyfriend’s cheek. He’s caught off guard with his eyes slightly widening in surprise. You let out a giggle as it’s all caught on camera. Jaehyun slowly feels entertained by what’s happening right in front of him.

“I’ll take one more picture for good measure,” you insist. The couple smiles and you take another picture on the phone before switching to the film camera. “Alright, I’m switching to this camera now.”

Jaehyun watches the couple get ready to pose for the next picture. They’re both looking at each other with gazes that Jaehyun just can’t seem to explain. He’s never had someone look at him like that, where someone would look at him with eyes full of love and admiration. There’s a small space in his heart that hopes he could experience something like this, if not, something similar.

“Alright, one, two, three!” You take the picture on the film camera. “Wow, I think these are going to turn out beautifully. The two of you are such a beautiful couple.”

The man gets up to get his phone and film camera from you. “Oh, thank you so much.”

“How long have you guys been together?” Jaehyun finds himself asking out of nowhere.

You look at him, surprised that he’s interested in their relationship. The man looks at his girlfriend and smiles. “We’ve been together for a year and two months.”

“Wow, so you guys just celebrated your first anniversary together?” You question and they both flush a bright red. They nod their heads. “You’re a lovely couple. I hope you guys stay together! You both look deeply in love with each other.”

“I hope so, too.” The man says softly. He looks down at his phone. “Would you like me to take a picture of the two of you lovebirds?”

You and Jaehyun glance at each other. You’re the first one to tear your gaze away from him. “I—There’s no need to, we wouldn’t want to bother you—”

“You’re not bothering us at all! We can take a picture for you, just as a thank you for taking time out of your date to take a picture of us.” The woman reassures you.

It’s your turn to look at Jaehyun as if you’re asking him for permission. You can’t seem to read his expression and so you look back at the man. “I think we’ll be okay, thank you for the offer, though—”

“We’d love to!” Jaehyun cuts you off and you look at him with surprise.

You’re not sure what to say or do but Jaehyun’s already pulling out his phone and handing it to the man. As the man is preparing to take the picture, you and Jaehyun awkwardly stand next to each other. It’s evident that the both of you are either acquaintances, friends, or a new couple who are still awkward with each other. There’s no in between.

“Alright, I’m taking a picture on three.” The man reminds you.

One, Jaehyun looks down at you. You’re fiddling with your fingers. He can tell there are gears turning in your head. Meanwhile, you’re too busy staring straight ahead, not sure if you should lean closer to Jaehyun or if you’re standing from the right distance. Should you tilt your head towards him? No, that would look awkward.

Two, Jaehyun feels his arm itch. He’s not sure if he should wrap his arm around your waist or over your shoulder. But as the man is counting to three to take the picture, he can’t help but notice how three seconds seems like three painfully long minutes.

Three, Jaehyun does it. He throws his arm over your shoulder and pulls you close to him. You’re caught off guard. As he pulls you close, you find yourself bumping into his side. Your eyes are widened with surprise. The man and his girlfriend let out a squeal.

As the man is handing back Jaehyun his phone, he grins at the both of you. “How long have you guys been together?”

Jaehyun clears his throat. The both of you share a look before he breaks out into a smirk.

“We’ve actually just started dating.”

“What you did today was impressive.”

You and Jaehyun are strolling down the streets of Paris after spending most of your day at Luxembourg Gardens. Montmartre just seems more romantic in the evening with all the fairy lights lit up and with the endless photo ops perfect for couples. Although your first date with Jaehyun is almost over, there’s something within you that wishes that the date would be longer. Little did you know that Jaehyun wishes the same thing too.

You find yourselves standing in front of an ice cream parlour. The both of you share a look.

“Wanna go grab some ice cream before I drop you off at your hotel?” Jaehyun insists.

You smile. “I’d love that.”

And so the both of you step inside the ice cream parlour. There’s a large menu filled with a variety of ice cream flavours. Although there are many new and unique flavours to choose from, your eyes light up at the sight of your favourite flavour.

“What can I get for the lovely couple?”

You both glance at the ice cream vendor before replying in unison, “Pistachio, please.”

Jaehyun looks at you with surprise. You look unfazed as you’re digging through your purse to pay for the both of you. He’s not sure why his heart skips a beat just by the fact that the both of you love pistachio ice cream. It’s almost as if you both had a telepathic moment.

“Let me pay—”

You stop him from pulling out his wallet. Your hand is placed over his and he feels the sudden urge to hold your hand. “I’ll pay. I already have my cash out.”

“But—”

“Jaehyun.”

He raises his hands up in defense. “Fine, if you say so.”

The both of you step out of the ice cream parlour with two scoops of pistachio ice cream on a cone. You’re busy gushing over how delicious it is while Jaehyun stops in his tracks at the sight of a huge billboard sitting on top of a building. You haven’t noticed Jaehyun’s sudden absence beside you until you’re about to ask him what he thinks of the ice cream.

“Jaehyun—Jaehyun?”

Jaehyun’s eyes are fixated on the large billboard. You follow his gaze which lands on a billboard of an advertisement. It’s an advertisement for a ballet show. Your mouth opens slightly agape at the sight of a beautiful ballet dancer on the billboard. You tear your gaze from the billboard to look at him.

You’ve seen that look before. It’s a look where there are stars shining in your eyes, where your smile is soft yet sincere, where you look like a fool… a hopeless fool.

“I think I know where to take you for our second date.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Where?”

He points up at the billboard. “Tomorrow night. You and me. I’ll pay for the tickets. I hope you like ballet.”

You fold your arms before pointing at the billboard, specifically at the ballet dancer. “You find her really pretty, don’t you? You have a crush on her, don’t you?”

He blows a raspberry. “I don’t—”

“You do.” You let out a soft gasp.

He gives you a look. “I don’t—”

“Your ice cream is melting.”

You’re handing him a napkin to wipe the ice cream that’s melted down the side of his hand. As he’s wiping the ice cream, he lets out a sigh. “I don’t.”

You shrug your shoulders. “I wouldn’t be surprised if you did. I’d honestly have a crush on her too. Besides, it’s not bad to have crushes. Having crushes are normal.”

“Define crush.”

As you’re coming up with your own definition of crush, you find yourselves arriving in front of your hotel. You frown. “Let’s save that conversation for another date.”

He nods his head at the door. “You should get going. I should also get going, Y/N. It was a long day. I enjoyed spending it with you.”

A smile slowly starts to spread across your lips. “Me too. Text me when you get to your hotel safely!”

He waves at you before starting to walk away. You’re just about to step inside the hotel building until you have the sudden urge to—

“Jaehyun!”

He slows down and turns around to look at you. “Yeah?”

“I’ll see you tomorrow?”

What was a small smile on his face turned into a bright one. He’s beaming at you before nodding his head. You swear you could feel your heart pounding in your chest.

“I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Oh boy, this isn’t good.

This isn’t good at all.

And you do see him.

In fact, you see him waiting for you outside of the Théâtre du Châtelet with tickets in his hands. You hand the taxi driver your cash payment and tell him to keep the change before you hop out. As you hop out of the car, your eyes meet his and his blank face transforms into a look of familiarity.

“Hey, you.” You smile.

“Hey,” he returns a smile. “Shall we head inside? The show is going to start in about fifteen minutes.”

The show starts just a couple of minutes after the both of you get settled in your seats. The lights turn off before they start flickering on and off. As the lights turn on, they focus on a ballet dancer that starts to dance across the stage. She looks beautiful, she looks familiar, she’s the ballet dancer—

“Sunjung.” You hear Jaehyun whisper underneath his breath.

You glance at him. He has that same look on his face from yesterday. There are stars shining in his eyes. His smile is soft… yet sincere. He looks like a hopeless fool. That look means one thing.

He’s in love with her. You know that look all too well. He looks at her as if she’s his entire world. He looks at her with such admiration that it makes your heart ache. You’re not sure if your heart is aching for him or for you.

You look away from him just before your stare ponders longer than it should. On stage, a male ballet dancer joins her and the song changes to—

“Song for the little sparrow,” you say softly, a gasp getting caught in your throat.

You and Jaehyun meet eyes.

It was all starting to make sense to you. You can read Jaehyun like a book, from front to back.

The reason why Jeong Jaehyun is in Paris is because he’s chasing after the woman he’s in love with, who so happens to be a woman named Sunjung. Jeong Jaehyun is not here for vacation, he’s here because of her. But the more you look at Sunjung and her partner that dances with her on stage, the more you focus on the loving gaze she gives her partner. Sunjung isn’t in love with Jaehyun. Jaehyun flew all the way to Paris to chase after a woman he’s in love with, who happens to be in love with someone else.

And you’re just someone he randomly chose to accompany him on this journey. You’re just someone he randomly chose to be there for him when he faces the one thing he knows he’ll regret experiencing; rejection.

And you’ve never felt heartbroken for someone your entire life.

“Jaehyun! I can’t believe you’re here!”

If you thought she looked beautiful on stage, she looked perfect up close. Sunjung pulls Jaehyun in for an embrace before pulling away to look at you. You flash her a small smile. Sunjung’s dance partner, extends his hand out for Jaehyun to shake.

“This is Seonghwa,” Sunjung introduces her partner. Her partner looks just as charming as she is. He looks incredibly tall while standing next to her. “He’s my dance partner that I’ve been telling you all about.”

Jaehyun smiles. When you look at him, you can tell that he’s hurting on the inside. “I’m glad I can finally put a name to your face, Seonghwa. Congratulations to the both of you, the show was amazing.”

You gently nudge Jaehyun. He looks at you questioningly. “Introduce me.”

“Ah,” Jaehyun mumbles sheepishly. “This is Y/N, a friend of mine.”

“Nice to meet you, Y/N.” Sunjung beams at you. “I hope you enjoyed the show. I was wondering why Jaehyun brought a beautiful lady along with him.”

“The show was beautiful,” you say as you let out a breath.

Seonghwa’s eyes dart between the two of you. “Are you guys dating or something?”

You and Jaehyun look at each other. Jaehyun fakes a cough, shaking his head. “No, we’re not dating. We’re just friends.”

Ouch. Why did that hurt? You didn’t think it would hurt.

Sunjung stares at the both of you. She pouts. “I was hoping you guys were dating. You guys look adorable together! I honestly thought you were going to introduce me to your new girlfriend, Jaehyun.”

Ouch. Was that supposed to hurt too?

You let out an uneasy laugh. “Sorry to disappoint. We’re just friends. Right, Jaehyun?”

Jaehyun doesn’t answer. You look up at him and the smile on your face is wiped off.

He looks heartbroken. He looks at her with a longing gaze. It’s a look with many unsaid words. He breaks out into a small smile that doesn’t reach his ears. He blinks and bites his lip. You’ve never experienced rejection, but after seeing him get indirectly rejected, you feel like you’ve experienced it too. There’s a sudden urge to hug him, comfort him, reassure him that things will turn out fine. But you’re not sure how because you don’t think you’re in the right place to do so. You’re sure him and Sunjung have a long, memorable history of friendship that’s irreplaceable. And so you stay silent.

And in the midst of your silence, you swear you can hear his heart shattering into pieces.

He lets out a soft chuckle. “Right. We’re just friends.”

Ever since the both of you left the theatre, you haven’t spoken a single word to each other. You’re trying to find the right words to say to him, but you don’t know him enough to know the right way of comforting him. You’re sure he has a lot of things on his mind, specifically about Sunjung.

All you could do is look at him with a waiting gaze, as if you’re expecting some sort of explanation. He doesn’t say anything and you respect it by continuing to walk back to your hotel in silence.

When you’re a couple of metres away from your hotel, he lets out a sigh. “Sunjung’s a long-time friend of mine.”

You slowly nod your head. “I kind of figured you’ve been friends for a long time.”

He looks quite heartbroken just by the mention of her name. You wonder what happened between the two of them, but at the same time, you didn’t want to force him into talking about something he’s uncomfortable with. He gestures towards your hotel. “We’re here. You should head inside before it gets chilly outside. Good night, Y/N.”

He takes your silence as his cue to leave. As he’s walking away, you can’t seem to stop yourself from saying, “You’re in love with her.”

He stops in his tracks. He looks over his shoulder.

You repeat yourself. “You’re in love with Sunjung.”

He shoves his hands into his pockets and shrugs his shoulders. “How would you know that? I don’t believe in love. Love is stupid. Love doesn’t exist.”

“Your eyes don’t seem to know how to lie, Jaehyun.”

His head hangs low. “You got me. I’m stupidly in love with my best friend. Unfortunately.”

“If you’re in love with her,” you begin with your eyebrows furrowing. “Why don’t you believe in love?”

He smiles.

“Let’s save that conversation for another date.”

The next time you see Jaehyun, it’s a Sunday evening. He has one more week left before he flies back home. It’s been three days since you last saw him in his heartbroken state. You figured he took three days off to recollect his thoughts and to let the fact that he had just gotten friendzoned by his best friend sink in.

But the next time you see Jaehyun, it’s a Sunday evening and he looks much better. You see him standing outside of your hotel building from your balcony. He’s wearing a pair of sweatpants and a hoodie, as if he had just woken up from a nap and decided to pay you a visit.

“Let’s go out on our third date.”

And you do. You find yourself putting on a hoodie the same colour as his before heading downstairs to meet up with him. When you meet up with him, you can’t help but notice how happier he looks. His smile looks genuine.

“Hey, you.”

He chuckles. “Let’s get going before the sun sets.”

“Where are you taking me?”

“Champ de Mars.” He shrugs his shoulders.

You pout. “I was expecting you to tell me it was a surprise.”

“Disappointed?”

You find yourself interlocking arms with him before laughing. “Just a little.”

When you arrive, Jaehyun finds the perfect spot with the perfect view of the Eiffel Tower in front of you. He lays out a blanket for the both of you to sit on and pulls out the takeout trays of food from the paper bag. You’re too busy taking pictures of the Eiffel Tower to notice that everything’s already set up. You glance down to find him already sitting down. He pats the empty spot beside him and you take a seat.

After taking a couple more pictures, you place your phone back into your pocket. He throws his arm over your shoulder and you look at him with surprise. “Jaehyun?”

He looks back at you. “Yeah?”

“What are you doing?”

The both of you are staring at each other until he takes his arm off your shoulder. He scratches the back of his neck and smiles sheepishly. “Sorry.”

You let out a snort. “I’m just kidding.”

He wraps his arm around your waist instead, catching you off guard. But you pay no attention to it.

There’s something about you that he admires. It must be the fact that you understand him. It must be the fact that you can read his mind. It must be the fact that you’re not diving into his love life or being too nosey about his feelings for Sunjung and deciding to let him explain everything when he’s comfortable. But it could also be because you look beautiful sitting next to him like this. It could also be the fact that you willingly took a risk and spent your time with him, a complete stranger.

“I’m in love with Sunjung.” He begins.

You look up at him. “Are we having that conversation now?”

He laughs. “Can we?”

“We can, if you’re comfortable with that.” You purse your lips into a tight line.

“Sunjung and I are best friends. We’ve been best friends for the longest time. In fact, I’ve been her best friend that’s been chasing after her for as long as I can remember.” He explains. “But she’s in love with someone else.”

“Is that why you don’t believe in love?” You ask.

He slowly nods his head. “I guess it’s the fear of rejection that makes me believe that love doesn’t exist.”

“But if love doesn’t exist, then rejection shouldn’t exist either.” You had a point. “Being in love with someone could make you the happiest person on the entire planet, but it could also ruin you through rejection.”

“You have a point.” He sighs. “I flew all the way to Paris just to chase after her. The more I try to chase after her and the more I try to make her mine, the more I start to believe that I know nothing about love and that it doesn’t exist.”

“Really?” You ask.

“Really.” He mumbles. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Now that I’m hearing this, I think I’m starting to believe that if there was one person who believes in love with all his heart, it would be you.” You answer. “You’re just being swayed by the fact that the woman you’re in love with doesn’t love you back. Rejection is the only reason why you don’t believe in love. But I think you should embrace rejection because it’ll only make you a better person. In fact, rejection will make you a person who anticipates the next opportunity to fall in love again, but with another person.”

“Do you think so?” He whispers.

You raise an eyebrow. “About what?”

“Do you think I’ll ever fall in love again, after Sunjung?” He asks.

You place your hand on top of his before nodding your head.

“Love happens with the right person at the right time. I’m more than sure that you’ll fall in love again, you just have to allow your heart to do it.”

Jaehyun falls against his bed and lets out a sigh. He’s looking up at the ceiling of his room. Suddenly, he pulls out his phone and goes through his photos. He starts swiping for a particular picture until he finds it. A smile begins to spread across his lips. It’s the photo of you and him at Luxembourg Gardens. He has his arm wrapped around you and you’re looking at the camera with slightly widened eyes. Your cheeks heat up while his ears redden.

“Hey, Jaehyun?”

He hears you call out his name after he dropped you off at your hotel room. He’s waiting for the elevator to arrive. He looks at you. You’re poking your head through the door. “Yeah?”

You bite back a smile that threatens to form on your lips. “I just wanted to let you know that if it weren’t for Sunjung and your feelings for her, I’d definitely fall in love with you. Sunjung is clearly missing out on someone she doesn’t deserve.”

The elevator arrives and he’s too distracted by your words to even notice the elevator doors opening. He scratches the back of his neck. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Y/N. Goodnight.”

You smile. “Goodnight, Jaehyun.”

Before he steps into the elevator, he tries to talk to you before you close the door. “Hey, Y/N?”

You look at him questioningly. “Yeah?”

“I just wanted to let you know that if I wasn’t in love with Sunjung, I’d definitely fall in love with you too.”

Five days left until Jaehyun flies back to Seoul. He has five days left to spend with you. It’s funny how he’s deciding to spend those five days with you and not with Sunjung. But it’s not like he really had a choice because you’d always insist on going out on another date.

“Golden hour?”

You’re grabbing his hand and running down the sidewalks of Paris. He looks down at your hands. You’re too busy looking down at your phone for the map directions to even notice that you absent-mindedly grabbed his hand. “Yes! Golden hour! Apparently, the best time to do it is during golden hour!”

“Where are we going?” He questions.

“The Seine!”

He pouts. “I was kind of expecting you to say that it’ll be a surprise.”

You laugh and it’s such a beautiful sound to his ears. You look at him from over your shoulder. “Disappointed?”

He shakes his head. “Not at all.”

Ever since you made what seems like a subtle love confession to Jaehyun last night, you couldn’t help but notice a huge weight being lifted off your shoulders. The image of his warm smile when he heard your words remains etched in your mind. You know that this won’t end how you want it to be, but you’re fine with it. You’d rather let your heart fall in love than cage it up with huge walls. Besides, you’re in the city of love, why would you hold yourself back?

It takes half an hour for the both of you to arrive at the Seine. There’s a ton of couples gathered at the Seine, most of them lining up at the booth to pick up their tickets. Luckily for you, you had booked your tickets in advance. You’re just about to tell Jaehyun something until you catch him looking at the river in awe. The sun is starting to set, making everything more romantic.

“Wow.” He breathes out.

You smile proudly. “I know. Let’s lineup so we can get a good spot on the cruise.”

The cruise occurs every hour during its busiest times. You and Jaehyun decide to stick around on the lower level of the boat. As the boat is starting to move across the river, you find yourself taking a seat on one of the benches.

“This is amazing,” he says softly.

“I did a pretty good job with this, don’t you think?” He nods his head.

He gets up from the bench and walks towards the railings. You’re too busy staring at his back profile, admiring the view right in front of you. His skin is glowing from the sun that’s shining down on him. Your mind finds itself taking a picture. You’re smiling brightly.

As you join him, you place your hands on the railings. He turns to you. “Hey, you never told me how long you’ll be here for.”

You glance at him. “Because I myself, don’t know how long I’ll be here for.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well,” you sigh. “Let’s just say I packed my things and bought a one-way ticket to Paris. I decided that when I feel like I’m ready to fly back home, then I’ll buy my plane ticket.”

“This might come off rude but I’m just curious,” he chuckles. “Are you really here in Paris for vacation?”

You smile and shake your head. “I’m not. I flew to Paris to escape.”

“Escape from what?”

“From my reality.” You answer. “Well, I’m more so escaping from my father. Just like my father, I’m a painter. He has high expectations of me and it’s extremely difficult to live up to his standards.”

“I’m sure your work is amazing, though.” He mumbles.

You giggle. “My last art exhibit was a huge success. But I didn’t expect getting burnt out a couple of months later. It was like I forgot how to pick up a paintbrush. I decided I needed to take a break. My father wasn’t happy to hear that.”

“And so you flew out to Paris?”

You point at him. “Bingo. I packed a suitcase and I told him I was flying out to Paris. I will never forget the look on his face. It was priceless. I’m sure I’ll be in huge trouble when I fly back.”

“Are you ready to fly back, though?” He asks.

It takes a while for you to come up with an answer. But when you do, you find yourself nodding.

“I think I’m ready. I was bound to go back home, anyways.”

This is the downside of meeting someone in a country you don’t live in. It’s all fun and games when meeting someone new, but the worst is knowing the fact that the both of you will eventually separate, where one will have to go back home and the other is left behind.

But in this case, you met someone in Paris who doesn’t live in Paris. You fell in love with Paris and the stranger you befriended. It’ll be all fun and games until you both realize that you’ll eventually separate, where the both of you go back home.

And you guess you both realized that now.

Three more days until Jaehyun flies back home. Three more days to spend with you. You both find yourselves spending an afternoon at the Sainte-Chapelle. Underneath the stained glass, you both stand next to each other with your shoulders brushing against each other.

You steal a glance at Jaehyun.

You’re in love with him. You’ve fallen in love with him. But you know he’s in love with someone else. And that’s okay. It was bound to happen anyways. But even though you knew it was bound to happen, it still hurt. Just a little bit.

He catches you staring at him and he smirks. “Why are you staring at me?”

You shake your head. “Nothing.”

“I want to get married here.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Really?”

He hums in reply. “Really.”

You chuckle. “Am I invited to your wedding?”

There’s a part of him that wishes you didn’t ask such a question. He swore he imagined seeing you walk down the aisle, not as his guest sitting in the congregation. The thought of it terrifies him.

“Of course.” He chuckles. “You’re an honorary guest.”

You find yourself smiling. “That sounds nice to hear.”

He lets out a frustrated sigh. It catches you off guard. As you look up at him questioningly, you watch his shoulders slump. “I wish I fell in love with you instead. I wish I met you before Sunjung. Maybe things would have turned different.”

You tear your gaze away from him. “Things would have definitely turned out differently.”

“You think so?”

“I know so.”

It all feels bittersweet. “How so?”

“Because if you fell in love with me instead and if you had met me before Sunjung, I would have fallen in love with you in a heartbeat, just like how I’ve fallen in love with you now.”

Two days before Jaehyun flies back home. Little did he know you had already packed your things. You’re ready to fly back home. You think it’s time to go back home. But you knew that you couldn’t just leave him without a farewell. With your flight near midnight, you decide to spend your last day in Paris with him.

You spend the afternoon at Pont des Arts. Along the bridge are an endless amount of locks on its railings. It’s weird how you’re both holding hands like a couple.

“Where do you think we can get a lock?”

You snort. “Are you trying to be cheesy? Why do we need a lock?”

He gestures towards the locks on the railings of the bridge. “So that we can do this together.”

“But we’re not dating,” you remind him.

“But you’re in love with me.” He says softly and you roll your eyes. “Don’t roll your eyes at me.”

“We don’t need to do this. The person you should be doing this with is Sunjung.”

“Can we just forget about Sunjung for today?” He asks. “We’re getting a lock.”

And you both do. The lock comes with two keys, one for you and the other for him. You’re both standing near the railings, trying to find an empty spot to put the lock on. Everything feels like a mixture of bittersweetness and cheesiness, but you both do it anyway.

“Couples usually write their initials on the lock, put it on the railing, and then throw the keys to the lock into the water.” Jaehyun explains.

You snort. “Funny how you told me how you didn’t believe in love when we first met and yet here you are, telling me all about a romantic practice couples usually do.”

The lock is secured in its place. He looks at you as he prepares to throw his key into the water. He chucks the key out into the water and turns towards you as he waits for you to throw yours in. You don’t. He looks at you confusedly.

“Why aren’t you throwing yours into the water?”

“I think I should be asking you why you threw yours into the water, sir.” You fold your arms.

“Love happens with the right person at the right time.” He recalls what you had said to him one night. “I threw mine into the water because I know that love will happen when I meet you again at the right time. I’ll just have to allow my heart to do it.”

You flash him a sad smile. “I can’t wait until that time comes.”

“Me too.”

You look towards the water before throwing your key.

Someday.

That time will come.

Someday.

“Hey, Jaehyun?”

“Yeah?”

You hesitate. “I’m flying home tonight.”

His smile vanishes from his face. “Tonight?”

You nod. “Tonight.”

He avoids your gaze. “We should probably get you back to your hotel, then, huh?”

As much as you hate telling him, you knew that he had to know. He doesn’t look upset, surprisingly. It’s probably because he knew that things would end like this. It was expected. He just didn’t expect it to happen sooner than he thought.

When you arrive at your hotel, the sun has already set. Jaehyun helps you with your suitcases as you bring it down to the hotel lobby. As your taxi arrives, he helps you put your things into the trunk of the car. When everything’s set to go, the both of you stand there awkwardly, looking at each other.

“I guess this is it.”

“Yeah.” You say softly.

“You have my number, right?” He asks.

You nod. “I do. Nothing to worry.”

“Text me when you land.” He says.

“I will,” you reassure him. “Take care of yourself, alright?”

“I’ll try.” He chuckles.

Jaehyun doesn’t know what came over him but he can’t seem to stop himself from grabbing your cheeks and pulling you in for a kiss. You’re caught off guard with your eyes widening in shock. His lips feel soft and plump, so irresistible that you pull him closer. He deepens the kiss and you swore you felt his tongue lightly graze yours. Your heart wants it to last longer but you will yourself to pull away.

You bite your lip. “Uh—I’ll see you around?”

He looks just as surprised as you are. “I’ll—yeah, I’ll see you around.”

You give him a timid wave before hopping into the car. As you buckle in your seat, you roll down the windows to see Jaehyun still standing there, waiting to send you off. “Jaehyun?”

“Yeah?”

“I hope you and Sunjung end up together. You deserve to be loved.”

And he looks at you with a look you can’t seem to read. You roll the windows back up and the car starts to drive off. You turn around to see Jaehyun waving at you. You wave back, mustering up a smile. When Jaehyun’s figure gets smaller and smaller, you turn back around to face the front. You bite back a sob.

You knew it would hurt.

You knew it would end this way.

But you still allowed yourself to get hurt.

“Ma’am?” You snap out of your thoughts.

The taxi driver is offering you a box of Kleenex tissues. “Yes?”

“It looks like you need it.”

And you sure did.

“Welcome home—”

Your father cuts himself off when he hears you slam your bedroom door shut. He frowns, glancing at your suitcase that you lazily left by the door. He walks towards your suitcases to bring them into the living room until he spots your plane ticket.

He slowly picks it up. “Paris? Of all places, why Paris?”

The longer he stares at it, the more he starts to put things together.

Five months later…

BREAKING NEWS: Best-selling poet, Jeong Jaehyun, officially engaged to long-time friend and ballet dancer, Kim Sunjung

You wish it was a joke.

But it isn’t.

“Holy shit, you look like a fucking mess.”

“I know.”

Jungwoo stands at the door with a bag filled with canned beer. When you had called him to come over for a beer night, he didn’t expect to show up to see a brokenhearted friend moping in front of a TV screen. He takes a seat next to you on the couch and starts to take out the cans of beer. He’s placing them onto the coffee table, taking a look at you every now and then to make sure you’re doing alright. But you’re clearly not. You’re not alright.

“So, when were you planning on telling me that you fell in love with a stranger in Paris?”

You let out a bitter chuckle. “Was it that obvious?”

“What? That you fell in love in Paris?” He asks. You hum in reply. “Well, while you were in Paris, I was expecting you to call me during your vacation but you didn’t. I didn’t hear from you for two weeks, what did you want me to expect?”

“Never fall in love, especially in Paris.” You sigh, wiping your tears. You grab a can of beer and pry it open. You take your first sip of the night before wincing.

He points at the screen. “You do have extremely good taste, though. Jeong Jaehyun? The flavour is incredibly immaculate.”

“I should probably get my mind off of it,” you whisper. “Or should I say, get my mind off of him.”

He snorts. “And how are you going to do that? By painting?”

“Yeah,” you mumble. “By doing exactly that.”

“Well, shit, I thought you were going to say no.” Jungwoo lets out a light-hearted laugh that rings in your ears. “But I think that would be a good idea. It’ll get your mind off of him. You never know, it might even help you move on.”

“Is it bad that I don’t want to move on?” You think aloud.

“Well, yes and no.” Jungwoo answers your thoughts. “It really depends on the situation.”

“How?”

He surprisingly finishes his first can of beer and moves on to his second. “From how heartbroken you are over him, I like to think that you’re both right for each other. You just both met the right people at the wrong time.”

“You think I met the right person at the wrong time?”

He nods. “Exactly so.”

It’s been five months since you last saw Jaehyun. It’s been five months since you last heard from him too. No text. No phone call. No nothing. Whatever happened between the two of you in Paris remains a memory that will forever be etched in your mind. You’re not sure if you could say the same thing for him.

You wonder if he’s doing alright. You wonder if he’s happy that he finally captured Sunjung’s heart. You wonder if he’s been eating his meals. You wonder if he’s getting enough sleep. Because you aren’t. You aren’t doing alright. You haven’t been eating your meals. You haven’t been getting enough sleep. And yet, it hurts even more knowing that he’s probably not even thinking about you. You probably don’t even cross his mind.

The news reporter on the TV screen continues to report the evening news. Your ears perk up at the sound of his name.

“Jeong Jaehyun will be holding a book signing for his new poetry book, Right Person, Wrong time, at the city’s biggest bookstore this Saturday at noon.”

It’s a huge mistake to be here.

But you are. You’re holding Jaehyun’s new poetry book in your arms as you’re walking towards the end of the line. Jungwoo’s voice echoes in your mind, telling you that this is a bad idea, but you’re stubborn. The line up shortens as more and more books are being signed by him. You find yourself a couple of metres near the table. You stand up on your tip-toes to get a good look of him. When you finally spot him, you let out a gasp. Your eyes start to water.

He hasn’t changed. He still looks the same. He just looks more tired. His smile reaches his ears. He looks happy. It makes your heart ache. You wish you were happy as him. But between the two of you, you felt like you were the only one left behind. He’s chasing his own happiness and here you are, left behind, trying to find what’s left between the both of you.

“What’s your name?” Jaehyun asks the teenager.

The teenager smiles. “Mina.”

He’s signing the teenager’s book. “You look familiar.”

“I do? I think it’s because I bumped into you in Paris a few months back. You were at the Musée d’Orsay!” The teenager exclaims.

Jaehyun’s hand stops writing. He slowly looks up at her. “Paris? Musée d’Orsay?”

“Yes! I asked for your autograph. You were looking at one of the artworks from Pierre-Auguste Renoir’s exhibition.” The teenager tries to recall her memory. “I think you were looking at Dance in the Country.”

Jaehyun smiles wider. “I remember you! Wow, what a small world.”

She giggles. “Yes, what a small world we live in.”

He closes the book and pushes it towards her. “I’m glad to see you again. I hope you take care! Thank you for coming to my book signing.”

“Thank you,” she says sheepishly. “Congratulations on your engagement, too!”

He thanks her and just as she starts to leave, he begins to welcome the next person in line. But right when he flashes the next reader a smile, his eyes meet yours. His smile is immediately wiped off of his face. You’re looking back at him in shock.

You bite your lip. You’re the first one to look away.

Indeed, this is a bad idea. This is a huge mistake. You find yourself stepping out of your line and looking for the exit. When you find the exit, your walking starts to speed up.

Jaehyun places his pen down and he’s immediately getting up from his chair. He watches you as you walk towards the exit. “Sorry, give me one second.”

He’s stepping down from the stage and everyone’s looking at him as he tries to chase after you. He’s pushing past people who are looking around the bookstore. Right when he steps outside of the bookstore, he looks left and right, in hopes of finding you.

But he doesn’t.

He scratches the back of his head. He swore he saw you. He looked into your eyes. He was so sure of it.

You try to catch your breath. When you do, you look behind a brick wall to see Jaehyun walking back into the bookstore. He scratches the back of his head. You sigh with relief.

Four months later…

“Please welcome, my daughter and pride, Y/N!”

The sound of clapping echoes throughout the exhibition room as you join your father on the small stage. He pulls you into a tight embrace. A couple of weeks after you flew back home from Paris, your father seemed to be less strict with you. He let you work at your own pace and stopped restricting you from living your life to the fullest. As a result, nine months later, you complete your second art exhibit in your career. And the turn out? Successful.

“Good evening, everyone.” You greet the large group of visitors. “First off, I wanted to thank you for taking time out of your busy day to visit this exhibition. It means a lot to me.”

Everyone is intently listening to you and you grow nervous from the attention. You look at your father for reassurance. He gestures you to continue. You look back at everyone.

“After my first successful art exhibit, I got burnt out. I packed a suitcase and flew a one-way trip to Paris in hopes of finding inspiration again. Little did I know, things turned out much differently than I expected.” You let out a chuckle. “This art exhibit is special because it highlights most of the memories I made in Paris with a stranger I met.”

You feel your father place his hand on your shoulder. You look at him with teary eyes.

“I don’t want to hold you all back from seeing the art and so, I present to you, my second art exhibit, Song for a Little Sparrow. Enjoy.”

As you watch everyone start to wander off to different paintings, you head towards one of the table stands to grab yourself a glass of wine. You needed some alcohol in your system. You join Jungwoo at one of the tables. He starts clapping for you as you approach him.

“Congratulations,” he smiles.

You fist-bump him. “Thanks.”

“You chose Song for a Little Sparrow over Wrong person, Right Time?” He asks.

“And what about it?” You take a sip of your wine.

“Do you think you met Jaehyun at the right time?” Jungwoo questions.

You slowly nod your head after much thought. “He’s getting married with someone he’s in love with. He’s the wrong person who came at the right time. I was burnt out, he was chasing the love of his life. We both met each other at the right time. Look what came out of it. He’s getting married and I managed to get my creativity flowing again.”

He swirls the wine in his glass. “But are you still in love with him?”

You stare at him. “It wouldn’t matter, anyways. He’s getting married. Thus, wrong person, right time.”

“What if I told you that I just saw him walk into the exhibit?”

“Stop joking around—”

“I’m not—”

“You are.” You cut him off. Your eyes scan the exhibit. “I can’t see him. I don’t see him. You’re joking. Stop joking around—”

“He’s right there—”

“Where?!” You exclaim.

“I’m just joking.”

You down your glass of wine before letting out a scowl. He’s laughing his ass off. “Fuck you.”

“Love you too,” he sends you a flying kiss. “I’m going to go mingle with some visitors. You never know, I might just meet the love of my life tonight.”

“I hope you don’t.”

“Do you really? Because if you do, you might have to spend the rest of your life with me—”

You fake a gag. “Yeah, please, go mingle. I’d rather spend the rest of my life with a house filled with puppies than spend it with you.”

He pretends to look offended. “I’m hurt. Anyways, see you later, love.”

You grin. “Go get em’, tiger.”

As he’s a couple of metres away, he turns back around to shout at you. “Don’t get too tipsy!”

“One ticket please.”

“Sorry, sir, the exhibition is closing in about half an hour. We’re not taking anymore visitors—”

Jaehyun takes off his shades and the ticket vendor clamps his mouth shut. What seems like the manager pushes him aside and looks at Jaehyun for a brief moment. “That’s quite unfortunate. When are you opening tomorrow?”

The manager clears his throat. “Well, we can give you a ticket for the remaining half hour, Mr. Jeong. It’ll be discounted. You can also choose to come back tomorrow, instead.”

Jaehyun purses his lips into a tight line. “Is the artist present at the exhibit?”

“Yes, Mr. Jeong.”

He smiles. “Then I’ll take the discounted ticket, please and thank you.”

The manager is scurrying to print an admission ticket. Jaehyun can’t help but look at him with amusement. There sure are some perks like these when you’re a best-selling author. As the manager is handing him his ticket, he thanks them and rushes towards the art exhibit down the hallway before time runs out. From behind him, the manager and the ticket vendor are beginning to close up the entrance gates to the art museum.

Jaehyun stops in front of the doors to the exhibit room to catch his breath. When he saw a billboard with your name and the date of your art exhibit plastered all over it, he did not hesitate to make a trip to the art museum on it’s first day of viewing to the public.

His feet drag him into the room. There’s not much people left in the exhibit room because it’s almost closing time. There are a couple of people looking at the art, him included.

He’s making the last half hour worth his time by stopping to look at each painting carefully. The first painting he looks at is a painting of a couple standing in front of a familiar museum. It’s a couple taking a picture in front of the Musée d’Orsay. His eyes flutter shut as he reminisces a memory from the back of his mind.

“What do you do for a living? You don’t need to answer if you don’t want to—”

“I’m a painter. What kind of question is that? Are we out on a blind date or something? I don’t remember meeting you on tinder.”

“You’re a painter? Like, you paint on canvas?”

“I was expecting more of an enthusiastic reaction or even better, a look of surprise. But yes, sorry to disappoint, I’m a painter. I pick up a paintbrush and I make strokes on canvas. That’s what I do for a living.”

“I’m sure you’re very talented. You should show me a couple of your paintings. Even better, why don’t you paint me like—”

“Like one of my French girls?”

“You probably get that a lot, huh?”

“I get that a shit ton of times that I am this close to throwing up.”

“God, I feel like throwing up whenever I see a couple out on the street. Like those two over there.”

“They’re in love. Leave them alone.”

“Yeah, I’ll definitely leave them alone.”

“Stop being such a con artist, I’m sure you’ve been in love before.”

“I have—”

“And it was a nice feeling, right?”

“It was more so disappointing.”

He lets out a soft chuckle as he opens his eyes again. Before he moves onto the next painting, he can hear your bubbly laugh echoing through his mind.

“I’m going to take you out on dates for two weeks. And on those dates, I’ll prove to you that love exists.”

“And you expect this to work?”

“One hundred percent.”

“How do you know for sure?”

“If you don’t feel some sort of way after going out on dates with me, then love isn’t real. But if you do feel some sort of way, then love is real.”

“So, basically, if I fall in love with you, love is real. But if I don’t fall in love with you, then love isn’t real?”

“Perfect!”

“So, your goal is to make me fall in love with you?”

“Yes, but at the same time, no.”

“Is that even possible?”

“It’s possible. Just don’t fall in love with me.”

He moves onto the next painting. It’s a painting of the Luxembourg Palace. A smile is slowly starting to spread across his lips.

“How long have you guys been together?”

“We’ve actually just started dating.”

The next painting is a painting of what seems to be Sunjung and Seonghwa. It’s a painting of them dancing across the stage in the theatre. He glances down at his fourth finger that’s missing a wedding ring.

“You’re in love with her.”

“How would you know that? I don’t believe in love. Love is stupid. Love doesn’t exist.”

“Your eyes don’t seem to know how to lie, Jaehyun.”

“You got me. I’m stupidly in love with my best friend. Unfortunately.”

“If you’re in love with her, why don’t you believe in love?”

The painting he looks at next is a painting of a picnic at the Champ de Mars. Sitting in the middle of the painting is the Eiffel Tower. He assumes that it’s a painting of your view from the picnic you both had.

“Do you think so?”

“About what?”

“Do you think I’ll ever fall in love again, after Sunjung?”

“Love happens with the right person at the right time. I’m more than sure that you’ll fall in love again, you just have to allow your heart to do it.”

He finds himself taking more time to look at the last two paintings. He stands in front of a painting of the purple stained glass at the Sainte-Chapelle. He leans towards the painting to get a closer look. He chuckles when he sees that you painted the both of you as a reflection in the glass.

“I wish I fell in love with you instead. I wish I met you before Sunjung. Maybe things would have turned different.”

“Things would have definitely turned out differently.”

“You think so?”

“I know so.”

“How so?”

“Because if you fell in love with me instead and if you had met me before Sunjung, I would have fallen in love with you in a heartbeat, just like how I’ve fallen in love with you now.”

When he moves onto the last painting, he feels a gasp getting caught in his throat. It’s a painting of someone he knows all too well. It’s a painting of him. It’s a painting of him standing near the railings of the cruise at the Seine river. It’s your view of him from behind.

He’s sure he’s in love with you.

He’s so sure of it.

“It’s beautiful, huh?” He snaps out of it. It’s a familiar voice.

His head snaps to his left. You’re standing right next to him. You’re already looking at him when he glances at you. He can’t seem to find a word to say, especially when you’re standing right in front of him. He’s not sure what to say when you flash him a warm smile that holds so much meaning.

“Hi,” he breathes out.

You giggle. “Hi, there.”

“C-Congratulations on your exhibit,” he manages to blurt out.

You blush. “Thanks. Congratulations on your book too. I read it actually, and I really enjoyed it.”

He clears his throat, pointing towards the painting in front of the both of you. “Is this me?”

You snort. “Who else would it be?”

“I feel honoured.” He mumbles.

You glance down at your wristwatch. “Well, I hate to say this but it’s closing time.”

“Already?”

You nod. “We wouldn’t want to keep anybody from going home to their families, right?”

“Ah, you’re right.” He lets out a sheepish laugh.

You purse your lips into a line and pat his shoulder. “It was nice seeing you, Jaehyun. I hope you’re doing well and taking care of yourself. Thank you for dropping by, it means so much to me. I’ll get going. My father’s waiting for me.”

Jaehyun furrows his eyebrows in confusion. You’re starting to walk away from him. He doesn’t want to lose you again. Why are you walking away from him?

You slow down in your tracks before turning around again. His eyebrows raise. “Jaehyun?”

“Yeah?”

“Congratulations on your engagement.” You smile. “It’s nice to see that you finally got a hold of Sunjung. Tell her I said hi—”

He shakes his head. “I called off the engagement. We’re not getting married.”

“Huh?” That’s all that manages to slip from your lips. “What did you just say?”

“I called off the engagement? We’re not getting married?” He repeats himself and it all comes out as a question.

“Why would you do that?” You look at him as if he’s crazy. “You literally chased Sunjung all the way to Paris and after getting engaged with her, you called the engagement off? Are you in your right mind?”

“I called it off because of this.” He gestures towards all the paintings in the exhibit. “I called it off because of you, because of my feelings for you.”

“You’re not making any sense, Jaehyun—”

“When I published Right Person, Wrong Time, Sunjung kept asking me if it was about her, if all the poems I wrote were about her.” He explains. “I couldn’t just tell her that they were about you, not when we were engaged. I wrote those poems during the two weeks I was with you in Paris.”

“They were about me?”

“We fought a lot after the engagement. I was starting to believe that the Sunjung I fell in love with was different to the Sunjung I got engaged to.” He continues to explain. “And then I thought, was this all just a mind game? Did I do all of this and fall in love with Sunjung only for things to turn out like this?”

“Jaehyun—”

“And then I remembered the things you said to me back in Paris. At that very moment, it came down to whether I should choose the woman I’m in love with or the woman who’s in love with me.” He cuts you off. “I decided to call off the engagement. Sunjung is the definition of the wrong person at the wrong time.”

“I—”

“Love happens with the right person at the right time.” He reminds you. “I knew that allowing my heart to fall in love again with the right person at the right time would happen and I knew that the right person would be you. But I was scared. I was terrified. It has already been seven months since I last saw or spoken to you.”

“I’m still mad at you for that, but just a little—”

“And then yesterday, I saw a billboard with an advertisement for your art exhibition and I thought, fuck it, I’ll go because I wanted to see you.” He sighs. “And that brings me here.”

“Are you happy to be here?”

“I’m more than happy to be here.” He sighs happily. “Just seeing you makes me happy.”

You bite your lip. “How could you be so sure that I’m still in love with you? What if I’m not?”

“If you’re not, then that’s fine. If I could spend the rest of my life waiting, I would. I know that there will be the perfect time, the right time for the two of us because I know you’re the right person for me.”

You smile. “Then I guess, this is the right time and moment.”

“Shit, is it really?”

You burst out into laughter. “Yes, Jaehyun. I’m still in love with you. I don’t think there was ever a time where I wasn’t.”

“God, I want to kiss you.”

“Do it. I dare you.”

He’s rushing over towards you and once he has his hands wrapped around your waist, the moment is ruined when there’s a security guard knocking on one of the doors to the exhibit room. The both of you pull away like two repelling magnets.

“Sorry, it’s closing time. I’m going to have to ask you to leave the museum. Thank you.”

“The paint is surprisingly cold.”

“Stay still!”

Jaehyun straightens his posture as he feels the cold paint brushing against his back. You’re making a couple of strokes on his back before leaning away to adjust your glasses on your nose bridge. Jaehyun looks over his shoulder and lets out a low chuckle. You raise an eyebrow.

“What are you looking at, doofus?”

“You have paint on your nose.”

You gasp. “Where? Can you get it off for me?”

He shakes his head with a teasing grin. “I don’t want to. You look cute like that anyways.”

“You little shit—”

“Woah, woah, woah, what’s going on in here?”

“Jungwoo, get out! You’re interrupting my creative process!”

tag list! @lanadreamie

author’s note. thank you so much for reading! i hope you enjoyed it!

#jaehyun #jaehyun scenarios #jaehyun imagines #jaehyun x reader #jaehyun x oc #jeong jaehyun #jeong jaehyun scenarios #jeong jaehyun imagines #jeong jaehyun x reader #jeong jaehyun x oc #nct #nct scenarios #nct imagines #nct 127 #nct 127 scenarios #nct 127 imagines

937 notes · View notes