A/N: Not proofread. Thank you all for your support! I might even consider writing some smut to thank you.
Summary: You’ve been Hollis’s stylist and close friend for five years, building a bond with him and his friends, including Roman. During a trip to Japan, a live stream sparks intense flirtation and hidden desires between you, Hollis, and Roman. The playful teasing turns into something deeper, leading to a charged atmosphere that blurs the lines between friendship and attraction.
You’ve been friends with Hollis for about five years now. Actually, you’ve been his stylist that entire time. He’s always loved your fashion sense and your creative eye, and he liked having you around even when it wasn’t for work. Over time, you met his friends and naturally became part of the group’s daily life. Everyone came to rely on you to coordinate outfits for tours, press interviews, and any public appearance.
The funny thing is, you never actually studied fashion, nor had you styled anyone before. You met Hollis at a party your parents were hosting. The two of you were the same age and also the only young people there so you spent the night talking. He complimented your style, and you showed him your Instagram, where you posted your daily outfits. That’s when he told you, “You should style me one day.” By “one day,” he meant the following week for a photoshoot.
People loved the looks you put together for him. Even his agent told you that you should stick around.
And you did. From that day on, you never really left his side. You grew close to Roman, too, he and Hollis were polar opposites, but in a way that somehow worked. You started styling Roman occasionally, along with Nate and Conceal, though your style always aligned more naturally with Hollis and Roman.
Over the years, it all started to feel second nature. Fittings in hotel rooms, last-minute thrift runs in unfamiliar cities, late nights spent hunched over mood boards and half-drunk iced coffees. You learned on the job, no formal training, no textbook rules, just instinct and vibe. And somehow, that was enough.
Sometimes you wondered why Hollis never hired a “real” stylist. But then he’d look at himself in the mirror, twist at the hem of a shirt you’d altered by hand, and say something like, “Only you get it.” That was enough, too.
The bond between the two of you was quiet but constant. You weren’t just someone he worked with, you were someone he trusted. There were nights when he’d come over just to sit on your couch, the low hum of music playing while you sketched or scrolled through runway archives. Other times, he’d call you from some venue’s green room just to double-check which shoes went better with his look even though you’d already packed the outfit yourself.
Roman became a familiar presence too, always teasing, always lounging somewhere with a smug grin and a sarcastic comment. But he looked out for you, in his own way. He noticed when you were tired, when you hadn’t eaten, when you were carrying more weight than usual literally or emotionally.
Nate and Conceal took a bit longer to warm up, but once they saw that you weren’t just passing through, they let you in. Late-night diner stops after shows, inside jokes that only made sense on tour, birthday parties in cramped hotel rooms it all became part of your normal.
One day, Hollis had a show in Japan for his world tour, and naturally, the team decided to stretch the trip into a short vacation. It wasn’t often you all got time off, let alone in a place like Tokyo, so when the schedule opened up for a few free days, everyone jumped at the chance.
You visited Japan like a pack of chaotic tourists. Roman insisted on trying every convenience store snack, rating them dramatically like it was a YouTube concept. Nate somehow got lost in Shibuya Crossing for fifteen minutes and swore the crowd “swallowed” him. Conceal refused to leave Harajuku without buying three pairs of sunglasses and a pair of platform boots “for the bit.”
You took pictures of everything. Hollis made fun of you at first “Do you really need ten photos of the same vending machine?” but then you caught him taking candid shots of you trying on jackets in a vintage store. He didn’t say anything about it, but you noticed he set one of them as his lock screen later. The boys even vlogged your trip.
The night after the show, everyone stumbled back into the hotel exhausted, sweaty, starving, and ready to pass out wherever they landed. You, on the other hand, were wide awake.
Your body was still buzzing from the adrenaline of the concert, the travel, the energy of Tokyo itself. On top of that, you’d forgotten your sleeping pills, which meant you were stuck scrolling through your phone in the dim glow of your hotel room, the city lights bleeding through the curtains.
You posted a photo to your story of Hollis mid-performance in the outfit you had pieced together over three frantic days and two time zones. The response was instant. DMs, fire emojis, reposts, and a dozen messages begging you to go live and talk about the look.
At first, you hesitated. It felt weird, being the one in front of the camera instead of behind the scenes. But then again, you’d styled one of the biggest artists in the world. People were curious. And part of you… liked that.
So you went live. Just for a few minutes, you told yourself.
You propped your phone on the nightstand, the hotel lamp casting a soft glow over your face. You didn’t bother with a full setup, no ring light, no makeup, just you in an oversized tee and a messy bun, sitting cross-legged on the bed.
Within a minute, your live had around a hundred viewers. A mix of your own followers and some of Hollis’s fans flooded the comments with excited messages.
“FINALLY we’ve been waiting for this!!”
“Y/N YOU ATE WITH THAT FIT.”
“How did you come up with the idea for the pants???”
You smiled, a little shy but warming up quickly.
“So, the outfit,” you started, glancing at the chat. “I wanted something that honored the location but still felt very Hollis. So I pulled inspiration from Japanese silhouettes, specifically old school kimono shapes but made it street. Kind of a balance between soft drape and sharp structure…”
You went on, talking through the layering, the textiles, even the stitching on the jacket you’d customized at 2 a.m. the night before the flight. You were mid-sentence explaining the intentional color clash when a comment caught your eye.
@rommulas: She’s lying. I made the outfit.
You blinked, trying not to laugh. “Okay, no you didn’t,” you said directly into the camera. “Roman couldn’t style a sock drawer.”
More laughing emojis flooded in.
Then another message popped up:
@2Hollis: She stole the idea from a napkin sketch I made in a ramen shop.
You groaned and covered your face with one hand. “I should’ve known you two were awake.”
@rommulas: Stylists these days smh.
@2Hollis: Gatekeeping my vision is crazy.
@rommulas: She’s literally plagiarizing.
“Y’all are so unserious,” you muttered, laughing now as the chat lit up with people losing their minds over Hollis and Roman showing up.
“They’re lying. Neither of them even knew what I was doing until ten minutes before the show when I forced them to change shirts.”
@2Hollis: Bold of you to assume I was ever wearing a shirt.
@rommulas: Don’t expose us like that on live.
You rolled your eyes, biting back a grin. “Anyway, back to the actual fashion part…”
You cleared your throat, trying to push aside the feeling of being flustered. "Alright, alright, let’s get back to it,” you muttered, wiping the grin off your face as you read the comments scrolling faster than you could keep up.
“Y/N, show us your closet!”
“Do you live in Tokyo now?”
“Are you and Hollis a thing??”
You rolled your eyes. “You guys really don’t stop, do you?” Just as you started to turn back to the camera, there was a knock at the door.
A quick glance at the screen still blowing up with comments. You stood up, phone still propped on the nightstand. “Hold on a second,” you said before heading to the door.
“Y/N, open the door,” Roman’s voice called through the wood, muffled but amused.
You stared at the live, eyes widening. “No way.”
The chat exploded instantly.
“She’s about to get bullied live”
Roman walked in first, hoodie up, hair a mess, grinning like a troublemaker. Hollis followed behind, tall enough that he had to duck a little under the doorframe. His silver hair was damp from a shower, sticking up in uneven strands, and he wore black sweats and a loose tee. He looked every bit the kind of man who knew he was trouble.
“Are you live right now?” Roman asked, already flopping onto the edge of your bed like he owned it.
You pointed at him, glaring. “Do not—”
Too late. He leaned into the camera, eyes wide and dramatic. “Chat! She’s been LYING to you.”
Hollis lingered by the wall at first, arms crossed, watching you with that lazy amusement he always carried. Then, without asking, he walked over and grabbed one of your pillows, tossing it behind his head as he sat on the other side of your bed.
The comments were going feral.
“WE’RE WITNESSING HISTORY”
“ROMAN’S TAKING OVER THE LIVE HELP”
“Okay, everyone calm down,” you said, trying to control the chaos. “I was explaining how I came up with tonight’s outfit before these two decided to break in.”
“Break in?” Roman scoffed. “This is a group project. We came to supervise.”
Hollis finally leaned toward the camera, his deep voice sliding into the live like velvet. “Don’t believe her. She’s acting shy now but she’s been bullying me for five years.”
“I have not!” you laughed, swatting at him, but he only grinned wider.
“WHY IS HE LOOKING AT HER LIKE THAT”
“Y/N AND HOLLIS FLIRTING IN 4K”
Roman peeked over your shoulder at the comments and started reading them out loud. “’Why is Hollis sitting on her bed like that’… great question, chat. Why are you sitting like that, bro?”
Hollis smirked and leaned back on his hands, stretching his long frame like he owned the space. His gaze slid to you. “Comfortable spot. Don’t mind sharing, do you?”
You rolled your eyes, trying to focus on the phone. “Ignore them, chat. They’re children.”
“You love us,” Roman said, leaning on your shoulder dramatically.
“You tolerate us,” Hollis corrected smoothly, his eyes lingering on you a moment too long, and the live noticed.
The comments were unreadable now, hearts and ship names flooding the screen.
You exhaled, feigning annoyance, but couldn’t fight the smile creeping onto your lips. “This was supposed to be a professional live. I was giving fashion tips.”
Roman laughed, reaching for your phone. “It’s better now. Chat, rate her stylist skills 1 to 10.”
Hollis tilted his head, that familiar teasing edge in his voice. “I give her a nine.”
You arched a brow. “Nine?”
He leaned closer, his voice dropping for your ears only and his hand on your knee where no one could see.
“Yeah,” Hollis murmured, his voice low, as he leaned in just enough that you could feel the warmth of his breath. His fingers brushed against your knee, a casual touch that sent a jolt up your spine. “But I think I could be convinced to give her a ten… under the right circumstances.”
Roman, who had been busy reading the chat aloud, suddenly stopped. “Alright, we need to wrap this up before Y/N gets herself into more trouble,” he said with a grin, his voice heavy with sarcasm, though his eyes lingered on you a little too long.
The live chat was spiraling out of control. Comments were flooding in faster than you could read them, all centered around the same topic.
“Y/N AND HOLLIS ARE OFFICIALLY A THING!!!”
“Roman, are you cool with this or what??”
“Y/N LOOKING LIKE SHE’S ABOUT TO KISS HOLLIS”
You felt your face heat up, and you quickly shot a glance at the screen. The chat was full of hearts, fire emojis, and ship names. This was getting out of hand.
“Alright, alright,” you said, trying to keep your composure, but you could feel the tension in the air, thick and almost suffocating. You glanced at Hollis, his smirk so close to a grin that you were certain it was purposeful. And then there was Roman, practically sitting on your lap, his head tilted in that annoying but somehow endearing way he had when he was watching you unravel.
You cleared your throat and spoke directly into the camera, trying to focus. “That’s enough of the teasing for one night. I’m ending this live before we start trending for all the wrong reasons.”
Roman gave a dramatic groan. “Aww, come on, Y/N! You’re killing the vibe.”
“You’re the one who started it,” you shot back, feeling the heat in your chest rise.
Hollis stretched his arm behind you, leaning back with a lazy, almost predatory smile. “Can’t blame her for wanting to cut it short,” he teased, his eyes flicking to yours, a playful glint there. “She knows the chemistry is too much for the internet to handle.”
You sighed, rolling your eyes, but your heart was beating a little too fast for it to be entirely out of annoyance. The three of you had a way of being close that felt a little too… intimate sometimes. You weren't sure if it was the playful banter, the unspoken flirtation, or the fact that being around them both made everything feel sharper, more electric.
“I’m ending the live,” you said again, this time with more finality in your voice, before reaching over to grab your phone.
Roman pouted, crossing his arms over his chest. “You’re no fun.”
Before you could click off, Hollis leaned forward, his face just inches from yours. “You don’t have to end it just because we’re here, Y/N,” he murmured, his breath warm against your ear. “If you want to keep the show going, we can make it interesting.”
Your pulse quickened, and you knew you had to end this before the tension between the three of you turned into something else entirely. You quickly pressed the “end live” button, not daring to look at either of them, feeling a mixture of relief and a strange, undeniable desire.
The moment the stream cut, the room went eerily quiet.
Roman, now leaning back casually, finally broke the silence. “Well, that was fun,” he said, glancing at you. “But I think you owe us a little more than just a quick ‘thanks for watching.’”
Hollis, still not looking away from you, added, “Yeah, I think we deserve a reward for being such good company.”
You looked between the two of them, feeling the space between you close in. The playful teasing was now tinged with something else, something hotter, more charged than before.
“Y’all are impossible,” you said, your voice betraying the unease you felt, but it wasn’t just frustration. It was anticipation.
Roman grinned like a cat who’d just found a mouse to play with, and Hollis, with his usual cocky grin, made it clear that he wasn’t going to let you off that easily.
“Maybe we’ll be more ‘manageable’ if you give us a little… attention,” Roman teased, his voice thick with meaning.
And suddenly, it wasn’t just the three of you in the room. It was the weight of everything unsaid, every glance, every touch, every flirtation over the years that had built up to this one, charged moment.
You couldn’t help but wonder just how much longer you’d be able to deny what was slowly unraveling in the quiet space between you, Hollis, and Roman. The sexual tension that had been simmering was about to boil over, and you weren’t sure who, if anyone, would be the first to break.
But in that moment, all you could think was: You needed to get out of this room.
“I need a drink,” you muttered, standing up quickly and heading for the door.
Roman’s voice followed you. “We’ll join you,” he called. “Can’t have you drinking alone.”
But Hollis didn’t move, his eyes locking onto yours with a look that was much too intense, a look that made your heart beat a little too fast.
“You can’t run away from this, Y/N,” he said softly, his voice barely above a whisper.
You froze at the door, but before you could say anything, Roman walked past you, almost casually brushing against your side. “Come on, let's go get a drink before she explodes from all the tension.”
Hollis stayed behind, still watching you like he was waiting for something. You swallowed hard and turned, facing the two of them.
“Fine,” you muttered. “But no more flirting. You both owe me for this disaster.”
Roman chuckled, “Too bad, Y/N. It’s kind of our thing.”
With that, you all made your way out of the room, the air between the three of you thicker than before, and the night suddenly feeling like it could go in any direction.
