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finelinevogue · 3 years

Text

he’s so vogue

Description - you are the journalist for the new Harry Styles December Vogue Issue

A/N - how is everyone doing? hope you enjoy! if you have any requests please feel free to ask. love you all and have a lovely rest of the week!

warnings: swearing

[masterlist]

Being a journalist for Vogue was probably the biggest flex you could ever make.

After 3 years of studying English Literature at Surrey University, you never thought, only a year after, you'd be working as an apprentice at Vogue UK. If it weren't for your Aunty, who worked in the fashion design section at Vogue HQ, then you'd no doubt still be a broke-ass, single, lonely student. Ok, lonely you still were but your job was so full-on that you didn't have time for a relationship.

Two years into your apprenticeship you were promoted to an official member of the team, and then another two years later you got promoted to team leader in your department of journalism, and editing; The Media - or as you like to call it - "The Celeb Goss". You were beyond happy with your job and found such passion in every article your wrote. Whether it be about a new celebrity romance or the collapse of one, you found a way to story-tell in such a meditated way that everyone loved your pieces.

That's why the Harry Styles had requested you to be the one to interview him.

Of course you'd written about A-list celebrities in the past, producing articles on pregnancy rumours, or engagements, or breakups, but you'd never met them before authoring an article. You'd met plenty of D-list celebrities who thought they were mega famous, but if you mentioned their names people would turn around and ask "who?".

This is why interviewing Harry Styles was a massive thing for you.

Not very often did you get to do work out in the field, especially in these covid infested days, but nevertheless it was your favourite part of the job. Getting to meet the people you were writing about was completely refreshing, allowing you to obtain a clearer outlook on which direction to take on your journal piece.

You were asked to go to Stonehenge, where the photoshoot was being filmed, as your office of interview. Even though you'd lived in the UK all your life, you'd never actually been to Stonehenge. It wasn't really on your bucket-list, but it was a pleasure to get to see it all the same.

Being the prepared interviewer you were, you'd prepared an array of questions that you were set on asking Harry. You'd never met him before, but after much googling and youtubing of him prior to meeting him today you would already be confident in saying he's the most brilliant man to ever exist. You were really nervous that you were going to screw this interview up and make a terrible mess in front of Harry Styles.

"Lisa! What if I accidentally say something I shouldn't?" You ran your stressed hands through your hair.

This whole morning had been frantic. It had started off by you waking up late, no thanks to Lisa, your best-friend and co-worker, pressing snooze on the alarm. You wanted to look professional today so you'd put on your best shirt - only to spill coffee down it ten minutes later. So now, you smelt of coffee and were wearing what was left in your wardrobe - and it wasn't much. The only things left clean were a pair of pink corduroy flares and some, pastel coloured, graphic t-shirt to go with it.

"You won't. Stop being so negative." Lisa rolled her eyes, probably fed up with the amount of winging she'd heard from you this morning - and you'd only been awake an hour.

"My outfit is hardly professional either." You huffed, pouring the rest of your, second, coffee down the drain.

"Well I think you look gorgeous." Lisa stated, whilst putting her breakfast bar wrapper in the bin.

You and Lisa were back and forth about you stressing, and such, for about half an hour before you had to leave. You had a great panic about losing your glasses too. You could see without them up close, but for long distance viewing and reading you were practically blind. You were taking Lisa's car, since she didn't think you were emotionally stable enough to drive. Lisa was the creative director on the set, and thank goodness she was so you could at least ramble to someone.

After a two hour drive up from London, you arrived at Stonehenge and it was freezing. Although the sun was out, it did nothing to keep your body heated. The journey up had been nice because you sat in your nicely heated car, chatting away with Lisa and blasting some Harry Styles out of the speaker. You'd made it through the first album, and the second one up to Canyon Moon before reaching your destination.

Upon arriving you could just about, without glasses, make out about 15 other cars, arranged at the bottom of a hill. There was an array of Audis and BMWs, a few Range Rovers, which you placed your bets on one was Harrys, and a green, vintage, Jaguar which was most likely belonging to the fashion editor or something. There was also a modern barn, perched at the foot of the hill, which was where Harry would be getting changed in to his various different outfits.

It took you a moment to register that Lisa had parked and was already clambering out of the car, making you look a little idiotic still blankly staring at the beautiful scenes in front, and around, of you.

But it was still bloody freezing.

You jogged a little to the boot and whipped out your white cardigan. Originally you'd thought that this would've been enough to keep you warm, but now you were starting to think otherwise.

The atmosphere here was amazing. People were rushing around left, right and centre loading, and unloading, various pieces of equipment and clothes. You caught sight of brightly coloured fabrics being carried to and from various places. There were the camera crew, and presumably director, all chatting amongst themselves. The smell of the very fresh air was so lush that you'd forgotten what it smelt like - especially after years in London.

You grabbed your bag from the boot, which had your notes, recording kit and laptop stuffed inside, before locking the car and following Lisa in to the barn.

It was lovely and warm inside - a completely different climate to than the outside. It was as if it was Bali inside and Antarctica outside. Better Bali than Antarctica though.

"Ok. Let's put our stuff down over here and then go find people we need to meet and such." Lisa instructed, you still too in awe of the place to fully comprehend what was going on.

You followed Lisa and you two ended up dropping off your stuff next to some other bags. You took a liking to the purse next to your stuff. Next to your bag, it made yours seem ancient - like it was worth nothing more than a penny. It was luscious and a beautiful baby blue colour. You softly ran your hands over it, finding satisfaction in how smooth and subtle it was.

"Hope you're not planning on stealing that, love." A manly voice appeared from behind you. You whipped around to see who's bag you'd been messing with, and it was just your luck that it was to be Harry Styles'. Of all the people's it could've been it had to be his.

Perfect.

He looked dashing. He was in black flares and his iconic 'But daddy i love him', t-shirt, along with a huge green anorak. His hair was prettily clipped back with a pink clip, presumably placed there to gave his curls greater volume. In his hand he had a pink toothbrush and you guessed he'd come back over to put it away in his bag - only to find you caressing it instead.

"Oh - no, no. Not at all. I - uh - I just thought it was beautiful." You stammered over your words, choosing them carefully to try and make you look less like an active criminal.

"Mhm." Harry nodded whilst looking you up and down, most likely judging why a peasant like you, in comparison to him, was touching his expensive property. "Well, I love your flares darlin'." Harry looked down at your trousers, his compliment making you blush a little.

"Thank you. That wasn't professional, and neither is my outfit, I know, and I apologise." You added, because you knew that if your boss knew you turned up today the way you did she would give you a right bollocking - and potentially even fire you.

"Never apologise for flares. You look amazing." Gemma perked up, making you feel more self conscious surrounded by all these other beautiful women. Gemma was in a slouchy, knitted, jumper and basic jeans - no doubt all from shops beyond your budget - and yet she looked like a model fit for the runway for Vogue.

"Okay, sorry." You apologised again, to which you, creepily, got the exact same, stern, look from the Styles siblings at the same time.

"My stylist, Harry, introduced me to big pants. He offered whether I wanted to try a pair of flares, and I was like, 'Flares? That's fucking crazy'!" Harry laughed as he told his story, earning a laugh out of you too. "Now they're my favourite item of clothing. Have a whole wardrobe dedicated to them."

"I wish he was joking." Gemma laughed at her brother and his flare obsession.

"Well you do look handsome in them, so I understand why." Your words rolls off your tongue before you could even comprehend what you were saying. Only after you finished your sentence did you completely intake what you'd just said.

"Good start." Lisa giggled to you, before turning to walk over to the coffee station. It was a help-yourself coffee bar and you knew that you were going to bed at least five cups to get over the last five minutes alone. You'd probably drain the station before letting anyone else have any.

"Oh god." You awkwardly mumbled, not daring to see how weirdly Harry would be looking at you, before walking off outside.

You had spent less than 10 minutes here and yet you'd never felt like a bigger clown. Joining the circus had never been so easy.

The outside wind hit you like a powerful leaf blower, and your hair blew around like crazy - most likely compiling into a birds nest on the top of your head.

Today was supposed to be the start of something great. Your hopes were set on a promotion from your written masterpiece, whilst enjoying the company of one of the most handsome, most lovely, most talented men of this century. Those hopes seemed a little too distant now. They seemed to mock you, as if to laugh at how you ever thought you were going to be any more successful. You'd completely, in more ways than one, made a fool of yourself in front of your interviewee, you were so underdressed, you were caught fondling his Gucci purse and you were still bloody cold.

It all felt too unprofessional for a job where professional was practically the driving force of the company.

You leaned against the barn, taking a deep breath to try and calm yourself. You were a master in over-thinking, but unfortunately that wasn't something you could add to your resumé. You let your eyes close and the other senses come alive for a few moments. The sounds of distant sheep and the smell of the cold wind were just two of the senses that allowed you to take a step back for a minute, and breathe.

"Thank you." A voice interrupted you from your attempt of quick meditation. You looked to your left and noticed Harry standing there, still in the same outfit as before.

"I'm sorry?" You asked confused, taking a step away from the barn to considerately pay more attention to him.

"Thank you - for saying I look handsome in flares." He repeated, smirking when he added the second part.

"Oh." Was all you could respond, feeling too embarrassed to take the conversation any further. "I should—" You pointed back to the barn, using it as an excuse to leave before yet screwed up anymore.

"Lisa told me you're the interviewer." Harry added, and it only occurred to you that you'd never actually introduced yourself. "So it's lovely to finally meet you Y/N." He stuck out his hand for your to shake, which you did willingly. His hands were a lot softer than you'd expected.

"Ho... You know my name?" You asked surprised.

"Of course. I also know you're the best writer in Vogue right now." He flattered you, which made you blush. You had a feeling he'd make you do that a lot today.

"Sure." You rolled your eyes as you spoke sarcastically.

"Well I chose you for a reason, didn't I?" He rhetorically asked.

"I mean.. I, well.. I don't know?" You stumbled over your words, making yourself look like a larger fool than you did already. Today was just turning out to be exactly what you didn't want it to be. "Sorry."

"Stop apologising. You do it too often." He told you, nearly making you apologise again but he gave you a jokingly stern look, as if he knew what you were going to say, and so you decided otherwise.

"Harry!" You both turned to see there was a man waving towards you both, but specifically to Harry. "Come get changed!" The same man shouted. Harry lifted his thumbs up, as if to signal he'd be there shortly.

Harry turned back to you and noticed you shiver a little.

"I'll start the interview after I come back from the dressing rooms, yeah?" Harry asked, taking off his, khaki green, trench-coat in the process. He handed it to you before you could oblige against it.

"Wait what?" You confusedly looked down at the coat and back up to Harry.

"Gives me a piece of mind knowing my interviewer isn't going to die of hypothermia before actually interviewing me." He smiled, obviously attempting to crack a joke and you have to admit you did laugh.

"Thank you." You say, before he runs off to where he's being called to.

••••

You'd been sat inside for a little while, waiting for Harry to come back. It gave you time to perfect your questions though.

Thinking up questions to ask Harry had been a challenging task, but one that you'd been fully invested in. You loved creating questions to ask him that were going to get to understand him on a deeper level. He was a very private man, and you completely respected that. If you crossed any boundaries, with the questions you'd ask, you would write them out of the interview. You liked to think you hadn't thought up a question that would make him feel uncomfortable though.

Pissing off Harry would be on another level of shame.

"Coat kept you warm?" Harrys voice disengaged you from your notebook.

"Hm?" You asked then replayed what he'd just asked in your mind. "Oh, yes. Thank you very much." You stood up, from where you'd been perched on the floor, picking up your nearly finished green tea as you did so.

Only when you stood up did it come to your realisation that Harry was now in costume. He was dressed in luxury. Each item looked like it cost more than your rent, and that was saddening. He looked rich and luxurious. To be quite honest, you were finding it rather difficult to take your eyes off him.

"You think the outfit is Vogue enough?" Harry asked, striking a few poses, which made you laugh. It was refreshing to see him act so relaxed and carefree, rather than a stuck-up-prick you knew some celebrities to be.

"Completely. I love it!" You exclaimed, appreciating the twirl he did for you.

He was wearing a kilt-like skirt and he looked beyond beautiful in it. Fuck toxic masculinity. Fuck being a manly man - like what does that even mean? Harry was embracing gender fluidity and experimenting the ways in which there was no definitive line between men and women's clothes anymore, and you thought it was marvellous. Revolutionary, for times as politically and socially troubled as these.

You started removing the coat in attempt to give it back to him, but he refrained you from doing so by holding on to your forearm.

"Keep it. I thought we could go outside to start the interview, so you'll be needing that." Harry told you, and you agreed - however reluctantly that was. You couldn't really complain though, because the coat did kept you warm and, what's better, it smelt divine - just like you'd imagine Harry to smell.

"Okay. Thank you. Do you want to go now?" You asked hesitantly, not knowing whether he was busy for someone else right now.

"Whenever you're ready, love." He answered, making you feel more relaxed. He was going at your pace and was making you feel settled - he was even more of a gentleman than people described him to be.

The two of you had walked around the backside of the barn in silence, enjoying the comfort of each other's presence. Well, at least you were. It was a blessing no one was back here. It was just you, Harry and the scenery that surrounded Stonehenge.

You approached a bench and you plopped yourself down on one end, whilst Harry sat on the other. He respected the fact that there was a pandemic going on, and didn't want to make you uncomfortable in any way. You still had your mask on, so Harry had taken that as you were very conscious about the virus - which he admired.

You pulled out your glasses, from the depths of one of the coat pockets, and placed them on your face, probably making yourself look even geekier than you already felt. Today was just one of those days you wished you had good eyes...

You opened your spent notebook, musty pages practically falling apart, and turned to the section of questions you needed for that interview. You were so nervous already and you hadn't even asked anything yet, all because of the previous interactions with Harry today. Your shaky hands shuffled through the pages and you cursed under your breath when you struggled to find what you needed.

"Shoot. Come on." You mumbled quietly under your breath, hoping it would make this terrible situation end faster. You mustn't have been as quiet as you thought though.

"Y/N." Harry's name broke through your clouded mind of self-disappointment.

You looked up at him to see him softly smiling at you, blowing all worries away from you away with the wind. "Yes?" You timidly asked, pushing your wind-swept hair out of glasses - where it'd gotten caught.

"You’re alright, love. You don't have to be professional around me, alright? We're just two strangers having a conversation, to get to know each other, okay?" If his words didn't calm you enough, the soothing sound of his husky voice certainly did.

"But that would mean you asking me stuff too?" You replied, confused at his implications of the phrasing 'getting to know each other'.

"Mhm." Harry nodded his head.

"Oh I don't know Mr Styles, i'm not a very interesting person." You answered as if it were the most obvious thing in the world, pushing your glasses back up the bridge of your nose from where they'd fallen.

"I refuse to believe that." Harry chuckled, making a quick smile appear on your face. "And please call me Harry. Just Harry." He begged, obviously finding it weird you calling him by his professional title. All you wanted, ever, was for your interviewee's to feel comfortable and safe, so if Harry wanted you to call him Harry then so be it.

"Ok, Harry," you sarcastically said, earning a shake of the head on his behalf, "you can ask me a few questions throughout the day." You told him, but you knew he'd struggle to find even two questions when he realises how bland you are.

"Does that mean you only get to ask me a few as well?" Harry smirked, already knowing the answer to that question. Unlike Harry, you had to write an article about today when you got home and so he knew that you'd have to dig as much dirt as possible from him.

"No, sorry. I don't particularly want to lose my job." You paused to look down at your notes, squinting a little as you did to see better. "Okay. Tell me your experience with corona virus."

"Sorry I didn't quite catch that, love." Harry apologised, leaning in slightly to see if he could hear you a second time around.

"Sorry." You looked down to fiddle with your fingers - a habit you'd undertaken when you're embarrassed. "Um..," you cleared your throat, "would you mind if I took off my mask?"

Your timid voice sent tingle down Harrys spine. He didn't think anyone could ever be this sweet. "Not at all, ‘course you can." He replied, again, wanting to make you feel as comfortable as possible.

You hesitantly took off your face mask, feeling like you were in some dramatic movie where they face revealed someone. You kind of liked having the mask on, because, for one, it kept you warm, and for two, you were a little self conscious with how you looked compared to all the other women here today. You shoved the mask in your pocket, with trembling fingers, before looking back down to your notes.

"Woah." You heard Harrys voice being mumbled under the wind. You eyes shot up to his and you noticed him staring right back at you.

"W-what? Is my acne playing up? I knew I should've—" You self-consciously run your hands over the areas you know you got acne. The masks really didn't help when it came to skin care.

"Hey, stop. No. You just... You look beautiful." Harry complimented you, and a roaring blush arose on to your cheeks. You'd never been called beautiful before, and so you were taking the compliment like such a 13-year old.

"Oh, uh, thank you." You awkwardly answered, not really having any other words come to mind in that moment. Harry chuckled under his breath, still keeping eyes on you for some reason.

"Would you mind repeating your last question, I didn't quite catch it?" Harry asked politely.

"Sure. Um, tell me how you've experienced corona virus." You repeated for him, gripping ahold of your pen to start copying what he says and pressing start on your recording device in case you needed it later.

"Well, it's been tedious that's for sure. However, I just want people to be safe and for life to return back to normal, so therefore i've been very MIA for a lot of the time. Keeping to myself mostly. I only went out for hikes or bike rides. All my meetings were online, so it's been very lonely." Harry kept eye contact with your figure the entire time, and if it weren't for you concentrating on writing what he was saying then you'd probably melt away under his gaze.

For such soft eyes he sure was intimidating.

"I presume the loneliness sent you crazy at times." You laughed, because you sure felt that way through lockdown. Curse being single.

"You have no idea." Harry laughed along with you, making you, slowly, feel more at ease.

"Actually, you'd be surprised." You looked at him unsure, before returning down to your notebook.

"Okay then, first question from me," Harrys words made your head shoot up, "How can someone as amazing as yourself be lonely?" He asked and you made a mental tally of how many questions he'd asked.

"Could ask you the very same question, Harry." You slyly replied, avoiding the question by answering with another question. It was a tactic you'd learnt, throughout your years of journalism, when you wanted to dismiss something .

"That's cheating." Harry pointed at you and raised his eyebrows, but you couldn't take your eyes off the big, cheeky, smile perched on his face. You shrugged you're shoulders in defence and returned to your questions. "But you did just call me amazing, so I think i'll let it slide this one time." You blushed, again, when you understood what he meant.

He was amazing though - that was the truth.

"You were in L.A. for the majority of quarantine, am I right to say?" You already knew the answer but your manager had just wanted confirmation.

"Yeah, but L.A. feels like holiday, whereas London feels like home." He answered, which you appreciated. He hasn't got lost in the way that Hollywood could let people. He'd stayed grounded.

"So what did you entertain yourself with during quarantine?" You asked curiously, slightly side-tracking from your pre-written questions - just because you were intrigued (nosey).

"Not much, not to be boring. I ate a lot of bread. I worked out pretty much every day. I wrote quite a bit actually." He used his fingers to pinch his bottom lip, something you'd noticed he did in interviews.

"Does that mean a new album on the way?" Your inner fangirl was screaming at the thought of HS3.

"Can neither confirm nor deny." Harry smirked to himself, like the cheeky bugger he is.

"That's a yes then." You joked, pretending to write it down in your notes.

"You're impossible, you." Harry laughed and shook his head. It made you feel all funny the way you could make him smile like that. You were the source of his happiness for just that moment, and that was enough to make you feel happy for a lifetime - not that he felt the same.

"Next question," you stated, moving swiftly on because you knew you had limited time, "How's your experience with Vogue been so far?"

"Wonderful. Everyone has been so welcoming and that makes it so much easier for me to have fun. It's daunting going at things alone, but i'm getting slowly used to it now." Harry sniffled a little, probably due to the freezing cold weather here.

"Must be strange, not having four best friends around you, all the time, anymore." You stated rather than asked him, sure that he was missing his bandmates. I mean, you were - so he definitely would be.

"Brothers." Harry replied, making you look up at him confused.

"I'm sorry?" You asked, giving him your full attention.

"You said four best friends. Well, actually they're my brothers." His words actually caused a rift in your heart. You could feel it being pulled apart and torn in to two. If you wrote this in to the magazine the fans would have a worldwide passing-away-party.

"Harry." You said softly, slightly tearing up at his words. "God, I swear i'm not normally this emotional." You chest your throat and try to establish your dignity - however there wasn't that much left anymore.

"Oh shut up." Harry looked away obviously trying to hide the fact that he was tearing up too. You laughed at him but didn't draw any more attention to it than you guessed he would've wanted.

"They mean a lot to you then?" You asked, hopefully not treading on any unwanted territories.

"Much more than a lot, yeah." Harry nodded his head, turning it back to face you. He could tell this conversation was now off-the-record because of your closed notebook, your undivided attention towards him and the fact you’d turned off the recording device. He liked being able to look at you, rather than the top of your head. He swore you were the prettiest girl he'd ever seen.

"You still see them often?"

"Not as often as i'd like. Niall did come around the other week to drop off some old guitars he didn't want anymore, and then we ended up playing around with some music for a bit." He admitted, which stitched your heart back together.

"So does that mean a Narry collab?" You teased, biting your bottom lip in anticipation.

"Narry? You so are a directioner." He laughed along with you.

"And you just avoided my question, therefore there is a song out there written only by you and Niall." You concluded, which shut him up.

This conversation was going a lot better than expected. Certainly a lot better than earlier. You will be permanently scarred by the way you spoke to him and handled his belongings. It was going to haunt you forever - and yet he'd forget about it by tomorrow. Or maybe he wouldn't, which is why you felt the need to apologise.

"Harry?" You asked, clearly indicating this was still a conversation away from the interview.

"Yes Y/N?" He watched you intently, listening to your every word.

"I, um, just wanted to apologise for my behaviour earlier. I was just really nervous to meet you, and to be honest still am. I didn't mean to touch your stuff without your consent and I certainly didn't mean to make you uncomfortable with any of my comments. So, i'm sorry. I can only imagine the awful, yet true, things you must think of me." You rambled really quickly, that you were uncertain whether Harry even caught one word of what you'd says.

"Do you know why I asked for you to interview me Y/N?" Harry asked, which wasn't the first thing you expected him to say after your apology.

"No. I...well Lisa told me it was because I can write well or something." You suggested, not wanting to sound egotistical.

"I mean you do write perfectly, but no." You were intrigued now. "I asked for you because I, and this is not for your magazine, have a secret - but not-so-secret - crush on you." This time it was Harrys turn to blush.

"Harry... you don't have to say that to—"

"I'm not saying it for anything. I sincerely think you are the most delightful, most prettiest, most fucking sweetest person i've ever met." Harry exclaimed, which you were taken aback by. Never, ever, did you think that Harry Styles would proclaim his likeness towards you. Ever.

"Harry don't mess with me, please." You shyly spoke, tilting your head down in disbelief that the Harry Styles was smitten about you.

He shuffled along the bench, stopping a little way from you but close enough to reach out for you. Your heartbeat increased when you noticed his hand move closer towards you. It didn't stop till he reached your face. He took his time, courteously, pushing your hair behind your ear before removing you of your glasses. He held the right-eye frame and slowly pulled the glasses off your face.

Once he'd successfully taken them off he folded them up and placed them alongside your closed notebook.

"Can see those pretty eyes now." He whispered quietly, but loud enough for you to hear.

"Don't lie. They're so dull." You mumbled, lifting your head up slightly. His face was still away from you.

"Not to me they're not." He retaliated, looking deep into your eyes as you did his. "I hate this corona virus."

"Why?" His words were so out of the blue sometimes, it gave you whiplash.

"Because I can't be as near to you as I want to be." Harry told you. And yeah, you hated corona too. It was getting a little laborious now.

"Smooth, Styles." You chuckled. You wondered how many new and weird pick-up lines could be made from covid.

"I know." He winked, which honestly would have made you throw up if it were any other man on the planet. Somehow, though, Harry just made it seem attractive - along with every other thing that man ever did. "After this, would you like to come back to my house for a cuppa tea?" He asked sweetly, like a five year old asking whether you wanted to play together.

"Okay. Lisa was my ride though." You said more to yourself than anything else, debating on how you'd even get to Harrys. Uber? Taxi? Lisa? Walk?

"I'll drive us, it's fine. I have to drop Gem off, but i'd be more than happy to chauffeur you." Harry kindly offered, to which you were internally screaming about. You were literally, and metaphorically, having a field-day with all this Harry content and interview.

"Are you sure? I don't want to be a burden." You question politely, not wanting to overstep any boundaries - especially in these covid infested times.

"Of course. I wouldn't have offered otherwise." He protested, waving his hand at if to say it was no bother. You were already trying to work out, in your head, how much petrol money you were going to owe him.

"Then i'd be honoured to have a brew with you Harry." You giggled at how cringe you were being, even if this was just your normal self speaking.

"Great." Harry genuinely smiled, teeth and all. "My shoot should take a couple of hours, but feel free to continue to write and journal. I'm looking forward to reading this particular article." He winked at you before standing up.

"Wonder why?" You sarcastically asked, knowing full-well it was due to his exposure of his own feelings towards you. Even though you'd never says anything back you were quite in agreement on how you felt about him, like he did you. He would be a narcissist to say he knew you liked him the same, out loud, but he knew. And you knew that he knew.

"Wonder why indeed." He gave you one last smile before he'd disappeared for the rest of the afternoon, leaving you to digest and relive the past half an hour or so.

Being Harry Styles' crush was probably the biggest flex you could ever make.

••••

After Harry had finished up his shoot he was quick to come find you again.

You'd watched parts of his shoot and he looked magnificent. There wasn't a good enough word to describe how amazing he looked. Harry, his stylist, was probably the best stylist out there. His fashion choices were unmatched and you wanted him to be yours. You were not rich enough nor fashionable enough, ironic for working in a a fashion company, to hire a stylist, but you would if you could.

You were so proud to see what he was achieving now as the person that he was. Harry was just being Harry, without the devilish control of shitty managements or ridiculous amounts of PR stunts. Harry was more free than ever, and it definitely showed just how much he was enjoying it.

You were certain that this Vogue magazine would break the internet - his fans were good at doing that. This could be a turning point for many people, with their outdated and ignorant views. There was no room for people with racist or homophobic or transphobic or xenophobic - and the list does go on - views anymore.

You were waiting by the front door of the barn, to catch Harry as he walked past. You caught sight of him in a white robe, presumably to get changed back into his everyday clothes. He looked really pretty in the robe - very domestic actually.

Today had been a good day.

Harry asked you to send over the more specific Vogue questions to him via email, so he could devote more time in to answering them in a lot more depth. You thought he meant you'd be sending them to some PA in his team, but you were shocked to understand he'd given you his personal email.

People were walking back to their cars and packing away the filming kit. You saw Lisa and the director talking to one another, no doubt discussing some in-work gossip.

"You ready?" Harrys voice reminded you that you'd been waiting for him. You looked to see he was back in the same clothes as this morning, only this time without his coat.

"Here?" You offered, having him over the coat once again but he declined.

"Looks better on you anyways." He winked at you, before walking through the car park and to his car. You were very surprised when you found out Harry was the one to own the green Jaguar. You assumed all celebrities drove the Range Rover, but no. The vintage car added to Harrys immaculate vibe and just made him that little bit more hot.

Harry properly introduced you to Gemma, who was equally as lovely as Harry. They were both amazing people and they were crazily alike. From the way they looked, down to the way they phrased their words, they were mistakingly twins. Gemma explained how Anne, their mum, didn't know they were doing this photoshoot and that it was going to be a surprise, which you thought was so cute.

Gemma spilt a lot of gossip on Harry, to which he got very embarrassed over. You learnt that Harrys first word was Cat. You learnt that Harry is godfather to multiple children, which you found heartwarming. You learnt Harry used to be a baker - which was something he elaborated on for a good half an hour. Harry was just a fountain of memories and Gemma was the one sharing them all with you.

The drive back to London was relaxed. You sat in the back, listening to Harry and Gemma pointlessly argue whilst an Arctic Monkeys album played in the background. You forgot that people like Harry drove, and listened to music, just like other regular people. You often misplaced celebrities in society, thinking they had everything done for them but in reality that (often) wasn't the case - at least not for Harry.

Gemma was dropped off quickly before Harry drove to his. It was no surprise that the Styles siblings didn't live too far away from each other. Harrys house was beautiful. Bigger than anything you could ever dream of buying. It was a palace compared to your cupboard-sized house. You were unbelievably jealous. He gave you the tour of the house, showing you where the toilets were, and even his panic room if necessary.

You migrated to the kitchen for a bit, talking about anything and everything. Getting to know the minuscule pieces of information that no-one else was trusted with, made you feel special. Harry made you feel special - even if he weren't meaning to.

Every moment held a spark. Every touch set off a firework. Every laugh was an electric burst. He made you feel so alive.

"We can go to the living room after this has boiled." Harry said, pointing towards the streaming kettle. He wanted to show off his fancy tea collection he had, and let you have a try if you wanted to. Harry was boring and chose the basic green tea, but, after much deliberation, you chose the cranberry green tea. It intrigued you and it sounded delicious.

"Why the extensive tea collection?" Not even you, a certified caffeine addict, had this much tea in your house. Coffee was a different story and one in which you didn't want to talk about.

"They help me with my meditation." He took the teabags and placed them in his glass mugs. They had a delicate Gucci stamp on them, and you just imagined that they probably worth the same amount as your daily salary.

"You meditate?" You were slightly surprised that he did.

"I try to yeah." Harry nodded, focusing on pouring in the boiling water into the mugs. "I've got very tight hamstrings and so it helps if I meditate twice a day."

Harry finished making the tea, in the light-filled kitchen, before showing you around to the open-lounge area. Everything was modern and chic. It was exactly how you imagined it, but better. The open, red-brick, wall was a beautiful feature and one that you were a whore for! It reminded you of New York and the memories you'd made there one summer.

The sofa was a beautiful velvet, green, sofa. It was soft and gentle, a lot like Harry when you thought about it. The whole house was an architectural masterpiece and you'd be lying if you said you weren't jealous. You sat on one end and Harry went to go and sit on the other end.

"I don't bite you know?" You joked, self-consciously wondering whether he didn't want to be sat near you.

"I know, I just don't want to step on any of your covid boundaries - which is perfectly fine by the way." He added, apprehensively taking the spot next to you.

"No, not at all." You ushered him to sit next to you, as you took a sip from your steaming hot cup of fruity tea. "If I smell though, do tell me!"

"Yeah, you smell bloody awful!" Harry sarcastically remarked, but laughing afterwards to assure you he was joking. The atmosphere went quiet for a minute, only the sounds of passing cars and deep breaths being heard.

"Y/N can I ask you something?" Harry turned the tone of the conversation. It sounded like he wanted to be more serious than you two were being beforehand.

"Anything." You encouraged him to continue. You placed the cup of tea down on the table, deciding it was too hot to drink right now, and gave him your full attention.

"Do you believe in love at first sight?" Harry questioned. You didn't think you'd be having a conversation this intense - especially if you had different opinions - on your first day of knowing each other, but here you were.

"I believe you can love someone at first sight. I don't believe you can be in love with someone at first sight. Why?" You were curious as to how his brain had journeyed to this particular topic. You'd never really had this conversation with anyone before, mainly because you were unaware of the true power, and meaning, of love.

"It uh... It doesn't matter." Harry shook his head and you could tell by his body language that he was shutting you out. Maybe you'd made him uncomfortable.

"Sorry I didn't mean to—"

"No, no. Please don't apologise. It's just - I like you a lot more than you may think." Harry shyly told you, which made you all soft inside. He was being vulnerable and that was something you admired in a partner. You didn't just need love, affection and trust in a relationship. No. You needed vulnerability and heartbreak too, and Harry was revealing that part of him to you.

"I like you a lot more than you think too." You repeated, not because you felt bad for him but because you truly did like him a whole lot. Love was a weird yet wonderful thing, and if you were to hazard a guess you'd say you loved Harry.

You couldn't wait to be in love with him.

"Does that mean I get to crown you my girlfriend?" Harry excitedly asked. Harry happy was something that should be made a constant, and you were more than happy to be in control of that.

"At least take me out first." You bargained, wishing for nothing more than to go on a date with Harry. Where you'd go, you had no idea. Everything was closed right now and there was still the chance of becoming sick with corona, but no doubt Harry would think of something not only clever, but special.

Of course you'd love to be Harrys girlfriend. However, you wanted one more, official, opportunity to really get to know him - unprofessionally. You wanted to make sure that you knew, and he knew, that you wanted to be with him because he was the charming Harry you've come to love, not because he was Harry Styles.

"So you're allowing me to take you on a date?" Harry smirked like a little child, your heart fluttering at how excited he was to be able to treat you to dinner.

"Yes, Harry. Yes I am." You answered sweetly, offering him the cutest smile you could.

You can't believe what a turn of events today has been. You've gone from nearly writing yourself on Harrys enemy list to writing yourself on to his 'people he's dated' list. Who knows what the future would offer you. At the start of the day you had wished this whole day to end and for the ground to just swallow you up, now you never wanted it to end. It was too perfect to be true and yet it was.

Harry was the most wonderful human to exist and you were beyond surprised to be the one to catch his attention. You didn't understand why you were so special, but it was nice to feel like this for a change. It was nice to feel wanted.

••••

A few months later and you were officially Harrys girlfriend.

It had been such a crazy few months. Harry religiously took you out on dates every week. Whether it be to grab a hotdog at a local diner, a coffee from a quaint cafe, a walk in Hyde Park or a late-night drive around London - which normally ended up with you falling asleep before you could make it back to yours. On sleepless jet-lagged nights he'll still drive through London's quiet streets, seeing neighborhoods in a new way, just as an excuse to spend time with you.

Harry often stayed over at yours. Even though you looked like you lived in a shoebox compared to Harry, he liked it. He liked the subtly and normality of it all. He wanted your life to remain as normal as possible and, apart from the occasional paparazzi incident, it did. You never had anything to complain about. Of course the online bullying created emotional wounds, at the start of your relationship, but it was nothing that Harry couldn't repair with a bit of love.

Lisa has nominated herself to be maid-of-honour when the day comes - if the day comes. Harry has already pinky sworn that you are it for him. The one, as some may say. You were utterly flattered, but you certainly unsure of what the future help for you both.

You loved Harry, you do love Harry and you will forever always love Harry.

It was ridiculous to think that all this stemmed from you working at Vogue. From you studying English Literature in a city away from London. From you dedicating you extra hours gaining work experience and money to be able get in and afford university. So many moments in life have you stopped and said 'i wish i hadn't have done that', but now you were convinced that they were the best things to have happened to you - because they lead you, all, to Harry.

And, being Harry Styles girlfriend was probably the biggest flex you could ever make.

873 notes · View notes

erodasfishtacos · 3 years

Note

could u please do like a harry x youtuber/influencer!reader and like lots of fluff🥺

Hi bubbie! Here you go :)))

Word Count: 4k

Warnings: Language

Harry was panicking. His mum and sister were going to be here in less than two hours and he’s burnt the eggplant parmigiana he had worked tediously on.

He grabbed what he had left in his fridge - ground beef, shredded cheddar cheese, and a little bit of bacon.

It was the type of foods he usually strayed away from so sometimes when his shopper would bring this stuff home - he’d avoid it and admittedly sometimes it would go bad sitting in the fridge.

The singer pulls up YouTube onto his phone - hoping something would come up when he typed in the ingredients on the search bar.

He clicks on the first video by cookingwithnofucks. A chuckle at the name as an advertisement plays.

A cute, bubbly girl appears on screen in a beautiful modern kitchen. She has a shirt on that says ‘fuck the patriarchy and eat pizza’. A high ponytail and minimal makeup.

“Okay - today we’re making a cheeseburger casserole,” the girl chirps, “It’s a heart attack in a dish but it’s so fucking good.”

Harry finds himself smiling as he crinkles his nose - it sounds absolutely disgusting but he’s intrigued more by the girl on the screen.

“Shit, I forgot to introduce myself. Hiii, if you’re new - I’m Y/N and I do cooking shit. Subscribe to my channel and all that jazz,” she titters while cutting open her beef package.

Harry follows along step-by-step, shaking his head as she doesn’t describe the instructions nearly well enough and is generally all over the place.

It’s a fucking cooking channel and at one point the meat starts burning. She just laughs and says, “s’just a little crispy!”

The casserole turns out looking even better than Y/N’s to be honest. It’s done in just the right amount of time for him to shower before his family arrives.

He makes sure to subscribe to her channel - eyebrows raising when he sees that she has 16 million subscribers.

Harry wanted to spend longer, looking at her social media but there was a fixed time so he locked his phone and went to get ready.

Anne - always the sweetheart just tells Harry that the casserole is delicious even as a bit of grease runs down her fork from the fatty meats.

Gemma wasn’t as kind, grimacing at the casserole and remarking, “You truly are turning into an American, huh?”

Laying in bed that night, Harry swipes back onto YouTube. Going back to the page he just subscribed to - under a pseudonym. He clicks on another video.

“Uh, okay. So I’m cooking...fuck, it’s called unicorn bark. It looks like a magical animal puke but it looks delicious so we’re going to try it.”

Harry realizes he’s been watching this girl cook for nearly an hour. Different videos from desserts to dinners.

She curses like a sailor, fucks up almost every recipe, and makes a mess everywhere. But she’s smiling and talkative which makes him quite memorized by her.

“I hate editing,” Y/N groans, letting her head fall dramatically against the desktop. Her best friend and dog looked at her oddly.

“I keep saying you need to hire someone, you stubborn bitch,” Laney retorts, clicking through her Instagram feed.

“Fuck off,” she tells her friend with no real heat. The video was almost fully edited - how to make spicy as fuck jalapeño poppers.

There is a calm silence for a while until Laney gasps, “Holy shit.”

“What is it?” Y/N asks, not really caring as she clicks her mouse to trim a segment.

“Harry fucking Styles just followed you on Instagram and Twitter!” Laney shouts, her dog - Rufus popping his head up in confusion.

Y/N looks at her friend to see if she’s really serious and sees no signs of deception. “Oh my god,” Y/N replies. She loved Harry Styles in One Direction and as a solo artist - a fangirl if you will.

Y/N was a well-known influencer and has run in the circles of many celebrities. She’s even met Liam Payne but she’s never been able to bump into Harry.

Her alerts tell her it to be true, she swallows as she looks back up at Laney, “He dm’ed me.”

“Open it! What did he say?” She squeals, squeezing herself on the chair next to her, peering over her shoulder at the phone.

Y/N is a bit nervous, trying not to have a mini aneurysm as she opens the message thread.

HarryStyles: Hello. Just wanted to let you know that your cheeseburger casserole recipe saved my ass last night. Cheers x

“He’s totally coming onto you,” Her friend states instantly, bouncing excitedly - she also had a bit of a crush on the singer.

It takes the two of them a minute to cool their shit before Y/N manages a reply.

Y/N/LN: Well I guess it’s only fair. Your songs have made a few of my nights much better. I’m a bit of a slut for Fine Line.

Harry laughs behind his screen at the cheeky reply he gets back. He’s usually never this forward - especially on social media where he likes to fly under the radar.

HarryStyles: Well if you fancy my music that much, I totally love for you to come to a show. I’m performing in New York City in two weeks.

“This has to be a joke, right?” Y/N sputters to her friend, eyes wide at the invite to a concert she already had tickets to.

Y/N/LN: I’m not going to lie, I already have tickets to the show. However, I don’t have any backstage passes to meet the man of the hour. Do you know someone who can hook me up?

It does wonders for Harry’s narcissism to know that she already had tickets for his concert. Was he really going to do this? He hasn’t met up with some like this since his One Direction days.

He had to remind himself - she may just be friendly and take this as a totally casual interaction. Which would be normal, Harry really shouldn’t be so infatuated with someone he’s watched cook on social media.

HarryStyles: I think I can arrange that. Shoot me your number? I’ll have them sent digitally to you with instructions on how to get backstage.

Y/N is a bit dumbfounded at how fast they agreed to meet up. A harmless backstage tour - he could just be a fan of hers and totally not interested, right?

Over the next few weeks, they never really stop texting. Harry sends her pictures of the recipes he copies off her channel - that usually always look better than the original. He sends her clips of him goofing around during tour rehearsal. FaceTimes her when he’s finally home for the night.

She sends him videos of her watching Harry Styles Best Moment Part Five. A few photos she snaps throughout the city of him on billboards and buildings, in Times Square. YN facetimes him when she’s frustrated with filming or watched a sad movie.

It didn’t make sense to either of them how seamlessly they’d clicked - especially without meeting. They were a perfect balance for each other. Harry - laidback, organized, level-headed. Y/N - eccentric, all over the place, adventurous.

Jeff had told him that he’s been gaining media attention from his social media interactions with Y/N. They like each other’s photos, begin following each other’s friends, and comment goofy things on their posts.

“Listen, I have a great idea,” Y/N begins - which Harry learned is never good. “You should film a video with me sometime.”

Y/N knew she was going out on a limb and instantly regretted the questions she’d been building the courage to ask for days when it’s quiet on his end. There’s static for a moment and Y/N needs to fill the silence.

“It was - I was just, uh, I know you’re probably too busy. I was -“ She stutters, embarrassment flooding her.

Harry cuts her off, “I’d love to.”

“Yo-you would?” She asks timidly. Was she really going to have Harry Styles in her apartment? If so, should she take down her poster?

He laughs sweetly, “Why do you sound so surprised? I can’t wait to come to New York, love.”

Y/N giggles, “Not the fact that you’re performing in front of a sold out crowd at MSG? I don’t think seeing me will top that.”

“I’ve been looking forward to meetin’ you in person since I came across your channel. You so lovely,” Harry replies, his voice a little softer but more serious.

“I’m nervous,” Y/N admits, picking at a thread in her jeans.

“Me too,” Harry murmurs, despite not wanting to admit it - he wanted her to know this was new territory for both of them. He didn’t want her to think that this was something that he did often. But a little too prideful to admit it’s the first time he’s ever done something quite like this.

“What if you don’t like me?” Y/N whispers, she...well she didn’t compare to the models he’s been seen with before. She’s regretfully fell into the rabbit hole of looking up his past flings and relationships.

Harry barks out a disbelieving laugh, “You can’t be serious, darling. I’ve been gone for you since I saw you burn that ground beef.”

Harry was having a bad day - scratch that. An awful one. He tried to go get coffee at eight in the morning and got bombarded by fans, he left the shop without even ordering. They followed him back to his car and it took him fifteen minutes to pull out.

His favorite Mickey Mouse Gucci suitcase he was bringing along on tour had busted. The zipper unraveling and the trim falling off as a result. It was a one-of-a-kind.

Then he’d been stuck on a Skype meeting about tour merchandise with a group of business partners for the last three hours - all he wanted was a fucking nap.

When Y/N’s contact vibrated across his screen, he’s itching to answer but declines as he needs to give these people his attention.

When she calls again, Harry feels a prickle of annoyance. It’s not even at her - to be quite honest. It’s just the shitty day and everything’s piling up.

He always got like this before he kicked off a tour - stress level maxed out and his ability to handle minor incidents nearly shot.

I’m busy

Okay! Sorry, just have a super exciting surprise for you, bub!

I really do not feeling like talking. I’d rather be left alone.

Oh, alright. Hope everything’s okay! Do you still want to facetime later?

Harry leaves her on read because he doesn’t want to slip up and take out his frustration on her. He’d been known to do that and he didn’t want her to think he was anything but besotted with her.

Y/N feels a little hesitant as she begins the uploading process to her channel. The red loading bar told her it’d be twenty-minutes before it’s going to be posted to her 16 million subscribers - one of them being Harry himself.

Twenty-minutes for her to back out and cancel the upload. She starts having doubts about it when Harry never replies to her text which is unlike him.

She takes Rufus out to avoid staring at the loading screen with unnecessary anxiety and uneasiness.

Harry is just getting home from a business dinner with the touring company’s management team. The tension and anxiety from today piling up on his shoulders and he just wants to call Y/N and crash in bed.

He tosses his keys in the little bowl in the entry and kicks off his dingy white vans to the side. His phone dings with an alert from Gemma.

You two are the literal cutest ever. It’s quite gross.

Harry slides onto a stool in his kitchen, confused by the text message before she’s sending the link to him.

Fine Line Inspired Cupcakes!

Harry isn’t quite sure why his heart starts pounding furiously in his chest. A sinking feeling in his stomach when he realizes that this was probably the surprise she was excited about.

He clicks on the thumbnail.

“Hiiii, it’s Y/N. Okay, well today we are going to bake some Fine Line inspired cupcakes. And if you haven’t listened to the album - get your ass out from rock you’re living under and stream it on Spotify!”

She has her hair down in long, waves and a loose cropped shirt that says TPWK in rainbow embroidery.

Harrys mouth is dry and he can’t take his fucking eyes away from the screen.

“Soo, I was thinking the first batch would be cherry flavored? ‘Cause he has a song titled ‘Cherry’. Let’s start there. First - I need to find my measuring cups.”

In true Y/N fashion, she scours her kitchen - cussing and yanking stuff out of her neatly organized cabinets before huffing and storming off to the side.

She comes back into view, a little frazzled but smiling when she holds up the ring of plastic measuring spoons, visible bite marks notched into the material.

“My asshole of a dog had a little snack,” Y/N shows the camera before shrugging, “Let’s get this shit started. Okay, you’re going to need one cup of sugar - no wait, two? I can’t read my fucking handwriting.”

Harry’s absolutely enamored by this scatter-brained, giggly girl who manages to produce cute blue and pink cupcakes that very vaguely resembled his album cover. His heart felt a million times too big for his chest.

He was enraptured for the entirety of the thirty minute video without taking his eyes away once.

To be honest, he hadn’t felt this way since his last relationship which was over a year ago at this point.

It’s not even a thought as he’s requesting a FaceTime with Y/N.

She answers after a few rings. She has a green face mask painted on her nose, chin, and forehead with gold eye masks under each eye. She is so fucking ridiculous it’s not even funny.

What is even more ridiculous is how gone Harry is realizing he is for her. She was quirky, unfiltered, carefree. If he was honest - he hadn’t met a girl like that in a very long time - especially a well-known influencer.

“Hi! How was your day, grumpy?” Y/N asks brightly, making a goofy face as the mask begins to tighten and crack on her skin. Not holding the earlier conversation against him and deciding to just move forward. She understood how stressful it can be.

“M’sorry. I was a bit grumpy,” He admits, “I loved your new video, darling. Did you make those just f’me?”

He can tell she’d be blushing if her face wasn’t covered, a bit bashful as she mutters, “You already know I did it for you.”

“You’re too sweet to me, only six days until we meet,” Harry replies, voice taking on a slow, lazy drawl.

“Six days,” Y/N repeats, eyes crinkling as she smiles with excitement.

“Is this outfit too much?” Y/N panics. Even though there’s literally nothing she can do about it - they’re already walking towards the backstage entrance of the massive arena. It’s still about two hours until the show starts but Harry requested her to come earlier.

Laney sighs, “For the millionth time, you look fucking sexy and Harry’s going to want to rail you right when he sees you.”

Y/N shoves her lightly with a faux annoyance as they meet up with a burly man who’s blocking the entrance to the backstage hallway and rooms.

She gives him their names and pulls up the passes on her phone before he’s nodding with any expression and letting them pass.

They’re not quite sure where to go from here so they begin to wander down the long hallway toward what looks to be the main area that people are milling about.

Y/N is nearly on the ground when someone rounds the corner without looking and walks right into her. Both of them let out huffs of air as they collide and attempt to stabilize themselves.

But there are large hands grasping her arms and holding her steady. In typical Y/N fashion she’s already cursing, “fuckin like a brick wall, look out next time.”

Then she’s looking up to Harry staring back down at her with an amused expression. He doesn’t let go of her and instead tugs her against his bare chest. He’s warm and a bit sweaty - like he’d just worked out. He was only in a pair of thin, running shorts, nike tennis shoes, and a little clip holding his hair off of his face.

Y/N can’t help but wrap her arms around his waist, returning the embrace and amazed by how right it feels to be in his arms. Her face tucks right against his collarbone and it’s like they’d known each other for years.

Pictures and videos don’t do this man justice. He’s gorgeous - sharp edges and dark inked skin. Tall and muscular but dimples that are carved in his cheeks.

“Nice to meet you, m’Harry,” Harry rumbles, removing one hand from Y/N’s shoulder to reach out his hand to her friend.

Laney shakes his hand before asking, “Laney. I’ll leave you two lovebirds be. Where’s the food?”

Harry chuckles against Y/N’s wavy hair, “Down the hall to the left.”

Laney’s trailing off without another glance, she was very food motivated despite her skinny frame. Also not wanting to intrude of the very personal first moments of their meeting.

The popstar pulls back to look down at the girl he’s fallen for in mere weeks. She’s as beautiful as he thought she'd be - if not more. He can’t help himself, “Would it be too forward to kiss you?”

Y/N smiles widely, running a hand along his jawline, “I’ve wanted you to kiss me since you stayed up on FaceTime with me until two in the morning as I cried after watching The Notebook - despite me seeing it a million times.”

Harry ducks forward to press his lips softly to her, large hands come to cup the side of her face as they connect. He’s so gentle as he moves his mouth against hers. In true Y/N fashion, she’s bold and has no hesitation slipping her tongue into his mouth.

He’s so fucking in love with her. It doesn’t make much sense - it’s definitely not logical but he’s realizing that’s okay.

“Oii, get a room!” Someone shouts from down the hallway teasingly.

Harry flips them the middle finger and pulls back, pink lips swollen and puffy, dimples on full display, “Let me take you out to dinner after the show, darling.”

“You going to wine and dine me, Styles?” Y/N giggles, unable to contain the pleasant warmness he’s spreading through her body.

“Mmm, have t’make sure you’ll want to keep me,” Harry murmurs happily against her lips once again, pressing kiss after kiss to her to make sure she’s real, “Definitely want to keep you.”

Y/N bites teasingly at his bottom lip, hand planted on the soft but firm skin of his stomach, “You’re never getting rid of me, hope you know that.”

“Was hoping you’d say that, now let me introduce you to my band.”

-- ---- ---- -- 1 year later - -- --- --- --

“Hi bitches! Today is a super special day. We have the one, the only Harry Styles filming with us. I know that’s not really that special since he’s on here all the time with me. But we’re celebrating our one year anniversary!” Y/N smiles, bumping hips with Harry who stands dutifully next to her.

Anyone viewing can see the absolute heart-eyes and adoration he has for the girl standing next to him. He’s still as lovestruck and gone for her as he was the first time they met. Harry’s fans were thrilled - for the first time in years, he’d opened up again.

They weren’t very public on social media beside’s tagging each other in memes and posting the occasional picture. Y/N was constantly uploading cooking videos from wherever in the world she was with Harry on his tour, she’d also begin making vlogs about different foods she’s been experiencing.

---

“Okay, so here in Peru - they’re known to have this really fucking spicy beef with noddles. So obviously, I’m going to make Harry try it first,” Y/N laughs as she props the camera up on the side of the table on a napkin holder.

Harry - who has a concert in a few hours - frowns at the steaming dish in front of him, “Darling, I don’t want to try it first. It’s going to burn my mouth. Not gonna be able to sing.”

“You’re sucha baby sometimes,” Y/N rolls her eyes, slurping up the noodles with her fork while making a silly face at her boyfriend. She pulls back, straight-faced, “It’s not hot at all. Tastes amazing, though.”

Harry takes that as an initiative to shovel a spoonful into his mouth. It only takes half a moment until his taste buds erupt in fiery flames from the spices, “You bloody little brat, y’tricked me! It’s so fuckin’ hot!”

Y/N smiles widely, laughing much too loudly in the restaurant when Harry chugs the glass of water next to the plate while glaring at his love. “I’m sorry, s’just to easy with you, lovie,” She replies, leaning over the table to press a kiss to his lips.

He’s a sucker for her and kisses her right back despite his mouth being an inferno. His heart was on fire for her and that burned much more intensely.

---

“No, love. The instructions say baking soda, not baking powder. They’re not the same thing,” Harry sighs, attempting to read her scribbled, sloppy handwriting. She’d already spilled milk on half of the paper.

“S’interchangeable, right?” Y/N hums, cracking an egg into the bowl and Harry automatically knows to look to fish out the eggshells that’d she’d let slip in because she sucks at cracking eggs but always wants to do it.

Harry reaches over her, grabbing the vanilla extract and a teaspoon, “It’s not, baby. Lemme do this real quick.”

“Will you make me a grilled cheese after this?” She asks, nuzzling into his side and wrapping her arms around his waist as he finishes adding the wet ingredients to their bowl. Harry stopped questioning her thought process a long time ago.

Harry swipes his finger into the mixture of icing off to the side and rubs it right onto her nose, cackling at her pout and squeaking when she pinches at the fleshy skin of his hips. She in turn dips her finger into the sugary cream and pops it right into her mouth.

Harry eyes darken, watching her lips purse as she sucks off the icing. It was a dirty move on Y/N’s part and she knows it. It has her boyfriend dragging an icing-covered thumb along her collarbone before leaning down to slowly lick up the sugary trail with his tongue.

When Y/N slides her fingers into his hair and lets out a pretty moan, Harry’s standing back up, trailing over to the tripod and saying into the camera, “We’ll be back after a little commercial break,” and is then turning off the record button.

It takes little to no time for Harry to have Y/N’s bum on the countertop, mouth on her neck, and hand in-between her thighs.

And when they finally posted a very edited final cut of the video - well there may be a couple of fans who notice the how flushed Y/N is halfway through and a lovely purple mark on Harry’s neck that wasn’t there in the beginning of the video.

#harry styles #harry styles writing #harry styles fanfic #harry styles writing request #harry styles fluff #harry styles x reader #harry styles x you #harry styles x y/n #harry styles fic rec #harry styles prompt #harry styles x influencer y/n #harry styles smut #harry styles drabble

2K notes · View notes

kikis-writing-world · 4 years

Text

The Reason

Summary: You can’t sleep as you near Moff Gideon’s ship, but neither can Din. He wants to tell you about what happened on Morak.

Pairing: Din Djarin x GN!Reader

Word Count: 1.9k

Rating/Warnings: SPOILERS FOR CHAPTER 15!!!! Other than the spoilers, it’s all fluff and no editing lol. But seriously, if you’re avoiding finding out what happens in Season 2, Episode 7 / Chapter 15 of The Mandalorian, don’t read this yet. It takes place after, and there’s talk of what happened during the episode.

A/N: It seems like every freaking week I watch the episode and tell myself “don’t write something. Everyone will be writing something, you don’t need to add in your silly fic too.” (Not to say I don’t enjoy reading them, but I just always feel like I won’t be adding anything new.) Well, this week I said fuck it and cranked this little ditty out this morning after the new episode. I hope y’all like it.

Edit: Follow-up drabble here

You sat silently beside Din as the ship - not the Razor Crest that had become your home over the past months, but Boba Fett’s ship Slave I - travelled through space. If the coordinates were right, you were heading into what was sure to be a hard-fought battle but it would be worth it. It was all to get Grogu back.

You willed yourself not to cry as you thought of the little green child you’d come to think of as your own. What he must be feeling right now. Alone and scared while they did unthinkable experiments to him. You’d cried several times since he’d been taken from your care, sick with worry over him. You were sick of crying. Soon would be the time for action, for getting him back.

Fennec and Dune were both sleeping on the opposite side of the bay. You tried to sleep, knowing you’d need your wits about you when you reached Moff Gideon’s ship, but sleep wouldn’t come. Sleep was hard to come by lately.

A whisper to your left surprised you. The low, modulated voice speaking your name. You had thought he was also asleep, reserving his strength for the battle to come. You should have known he’d be struggling to sleep too.

He nodded his head to the side as he unbuckled the harness keeping him secure in the seat. You nodded as you unbuckled your own and followed him to the darkened corner of the hold. You waited for him to sit in the corner, knowing he liked to have his back secured and a view of the room. Instead, he gently led you into the corner and sat with his back to the others. You were too surprised to ask, you followed his lead and slid down the wall to sit on the floor.

He hadn’t said much of what happened on Morak, but you hadn’t been expecting him to. You’d learned long ago he wasn’t one for unnecessary chatter. There were times he tried, for you and the kid, helping to fill the silences as time passed on the ship. Hearing him strain, pushing the boundaries of his usual comforts to ease the minds of you and his foundling, was one of the ways he snuck into your heart.

It wasn’t easy loving The Mandalorian. He was so used to being alone, both physically alone and having few people to trust. It took a while, but you earned that trust. You knew you had. You also knew he cared about you in his own special way. He would take your hand in his larger gloved hand to avoid losing you in a crowd. His hand would squeeze yours when you were visibly anxious. A hand on your shoulder, your back, or your hip as he passed you in tight quarters. Leaning his forehead against yours anytime the two of you parted.

To most these fleeting moments wouldn’t look like much, but you knew the stoic Mandalorian didn’t give these touches lightly. That his keldabe kiss was just as precious as any lip-to-lip contact.

You didn’t fully understand his creed. He answered questions when you asked, but a lot of it didn’t make sense to you, an outsider. Even so, you never pushed him to break it or put him in a position that made him feel like the creed was in danger.

“I know you’re worried,” his voice was quiet. The crackling of the modulator even more prominent as it tried to broadcast his hushed tone. “We’ll get him back.”

“I know.” You nodded, looking down at your crossed legs. If anyone could rescue Grogu, it was the man sitting across from you.

That large gloved hand entered your vision, resting lightly on your knee. A small smile broke through your worry at the man’s attempt at comfort. You placed your hand over his, feeling the warmth of him through the smooth leather.

“I-” He started to speak before stopping himself. While it wasn’t unusual for him to search for his words, he usually did so before starting to speak. By the time he spoke, he was confident and sure in what he had to say. That short, clipped syllable caught your attention in how different it was. He was trying to tell you something, but still wasn’t sure how.

“What is it?” You gently prompted, squeezing his hand with your own.

“On Morak…” He sighed.

“What happened on Morak?” You asked after a beat.

“I did what had to be done.”

His answer confused you. You knew that already of course, but it also sounded like he was trying to convince himself as well as you.

“I know that. You got the coordinates. We’re going to find the kid because of you and Mayfield.” You smiled at him, praising him for the success. It was easy to overlook the triumph when it was just a stepping stone to a much larger problem.

“I had to…” He looked away from you as he once again searched for the words. Your smile dropped a fraction with his unease. “I had to take off the helmet.”

You didn’t know what you were expecting him to reveal, but it hadn’t been that. You knew that he had taken the helmet off months ago, but that had been a life or death situation. No one had been around, just the IG droid who had treated his wounds and saved him. This was a mining refinery full of people. Full of imps.

“Are you okay?” You asked, moving your hand from where it was resting on top of his so you could grip his hand fully. “What happened?”

“I-I had to.” He stuttered. “The terminal had to scan my face to get the coordinates.”

“Mando,” you didn’t dare speak his name - something he had shared with you in confidence - with others around. “Are you okay?”

He nodded once. Relief filled your body. You foremost worry had been for him, and how he would have felt to have broken his life-long creed. You supposed with the explosions, anyone who would have seen his face was likely dead. Unless Mayfield had seen him.

His hand slipped from yours as he brought both of his hands up to the sides of his helmet. He started pushing it up and your eyes widened as a sliver of skin was revealed. You surged forward, covering his hands in your own to stop him.

“What are you doing?”

“I want to. To show you.” He explained. His voice came in this awkward mix of his natural timber through the bottom of his helmet and the modulator still trying to pick up his voice. You could see his chin move as he spoke. Your heart was racing. It was the most you’d ever seen of his face.

“You don’t have to.” You told him firmly.

“I think… I think there are reasons to keep it on, and reasons to take it off.” He spoke slowly, like it was something he had been thinking about. You thought of the Mandalorians on Trask who claimed the creed was outdated. You thought of Boba Fett in the cockpit, who wore his newly-polished armor with the pride of a mandalorian despite being without it for years. Thought about him revealing his face for the information needed to save his foundling.

“I want to show you my face.” He told you, his voice unwavering. It was the surety, the confidence you had grown used to from him. “I want to show who I am to the one I love.”

Your breath caught in your throat at his admission. You knew it in your heart, but he’d never said the words aloud to you before. You bit your lip as you felt the tears welling in your eyes again, this time from happiness instead of grief and worry.

“Okay.” You breathed, barely able to find your voice.

With your hands still on his, he lifted the helmet, revealing his face inch by inch. You held your breath as he was slowly revealed to you.

The scruff covering his jaw. His plush lips. The mustache over his mouth. His aquiline nose. His deep brown eyes. His shaggy dark brown hair. He set his helmet in his lap as your eyes scanned his face.

Wow.

You hadn’t realized you had said that out loud until his eyebrows furrowed. That was new. You were used to guessing his emotions through his body language, his tone of voice. Now you had facial expressions to read. He was waiting for your reaction and you hadn’t given him much to go by.

“You’re gorgeous.” You told him. It was the only way you could think to describe the ridiculously handsome man sitting in front of you. You were almost mad at him for hiding his face away for this long.

His lips quirked up in a lopsided grin, a single dimple appearing in his cheek. Maker, you thought he’d already taken your breath away and then this-

“Come here.” He ordered. His natural voice was deep. Rich. It sent a shiver down your spine.

“Huh?” Your brain wasn’t processing. It was in some kind of overloaded state. Din’s face. Din’s voice. Din’s beautiful brown eyes that you could simply drown in.

His hand was on your cheek, pulling you into him. You gasped, holding your breath as his lips brushed against yours. You had dreamed of this, but not a single one of those dreams lived up to the real thing.

He was hesitant, clumsy even as he kissed you. His lips were chapped against your own, the stubble on his cheeks tickling your skin. He smelt of sweat and blaster fire, of fresh air and leather. Maker, you could melt into the floor of the ship never to be seen again and you would have been happy with the life you had lived.

“I love you.” You whispered against his lips. You felt him smile in response.

You brought your hand up to his cheek. Feeling the lines of his face with your hand, you trailed your hand to his hair. It was damp with sweat but so soft. It felt amazing between your fingers.

“Where’s Mando?” A voice across the bay shocked both of you, the two of you shooting away from each other as if you’d been burned. You felt like a teenager who had been caught making out by your parents. You looked over Din’s shoulder as he pulled the helmet back into place - his strategic placement of the two of you making sense now. Not only did he not want them to see his face, but he trusted you to have his back. That thought made your heart speed up even more than it already was.

You saw Fennec shaking Cara awake. Luckily she hadn’t looked in this direction yet. Had Cara woken first, she likely would have seen the two of you.

“Sorry, we’re over here.” You admitted, trying to calm the heat in your face. It was dim in the hold, hopefully they couldn’t tell. “We were talking, didn’t want to wake you.”

“You should be sleeping.” Fennec told you, leveling you with a gaze that truly did make you feel like you’d been caught doing something wrong by a parent.

“I should be sleeping.” Cara grumbled, cranky for having been woken up for no reason.

“Come on. We’re all gonna need to be at our best.” Fennec said, ignoring Cara.

“She’s right.” Din admitted, standing up and offering you his hand. You took it, letting him help you to stand. “Let’s try to get some sleep, cyar'ika.”

Tagging: @wickedfrsgrl @din-damn-djarin @thisisthe-wayson @insideafictionaluniverse

#The Mandalorian spoilers #Din Djarin x Reader #Din Djarin x GN!Reader #The Mandalorian x Reader #Din Djarin drabble #The Mandalorian drabble #Din Djarin imagine #The Mandalorian imagine #Pedro Pascal Character fanfiction #WookieTales

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lover-of-skellies · 3 years

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So uhh, this isn’t off the prompt list thing and literally no one asked for it, but I decided to go back and edit a super old thing I wrote. It’s supposed to be part of something a lot bigger, but for now, the whole thing’s been discontinued

Essentially, this is an OC insert kinda thing with my girl Adrienne. She’s been trapped in Horrortale for a little while, and since Sans decided to be merciful, she’s been allowed to live in a spare room in his and Pap’s house. She has free roam of the house and can do pretty much whatever the hell she wants (as long as it doesn’t involve getting into the pantry and digging into their reserves), and in exchange for all of that and being allowed to live, he and Papyrus have some super basic rules they expect her to follow

Rule number 1 is that she is to be helpful, and try to maintain the house while they’re away. Rule number two is that she’s not to leave the house without covering her face and hands. Rule number three is that she’s never to leave the house alone, without one or both of them nearby

Out of boredom and hunger, she leaves the house one day, following the smell of food. This doesn’t seem like it’d be anything huge, but it’s a major no-no, and it doesn’t go unpunished

Papyrus is also surprisingly good at giving advice, too. He might not have much experience with dating, but he knows exactly what he's talking about

If you make it to the end, I have to give you kudos because this is a complete cringe-fest ^^"

((Gonna add some potential trigger warnings for: angst, slight violence, and public humiliation))

Pain.

Searing pain.

The once blue-nette had been exploring the town, much to her guardians’ displeasure. She’d known it wasn’t a good idea, and for what reasons, she was well aware, but she had to do something. Staying holed away in the house every moment of every day was a completely new level of boring, one that she hadn’t even known existed. Her guardian had made it very clear that she was to never leave the house unless he or his brother were to accompany her, but today… well. His brother was away, probably at the capital getting physically and verbally abused by their queen, and he himself? She wasn’t sure what he did while he was away, but she’d learned not to ask too many questions. The first few times she tried asking, he’d been quick to change the subject or dodge her questions entirely, or he’d simply laugh and make a joke which he deemed hilarious when in reality, it wasn’t. Once he got tired of her asking, his humor quickly dissipated and was replaced by anger. He didn’t even have to look at her for her to know he was upset; all it took was a few short, clipped responses, and how she could practically hear him frown when he spoke. That’s beside the point though.

At the moment, she was suspended in mid air by her throat, her legs flailing as she began clawing at her assailant’s arm, her teeth bared as she struggled to free herself. The slightly withered fire monster shrugged off her attempts to attack him as if they were nothing at all; even though his strength had been diminished and was now only half of what it used to be, he was still far tougher than she could ever hope to be. Having smelled food, she made the mistake of slipping into the bar he owned, her hood tugged as far over her face as possible. She had glanced around the establishment, taken note of the other monsters nearby, and made another mental note of where all the exits were, should she need to run. After very cautiously crossing the bar and taking a seat at the old, worn counter, the flamesman had wordlessly poured a glass of water. He nudged it in her direction, and she’d eagerly accepted it, being mindful of how much of her face was concealed as she sipped the cold beverage.

For a moment, she was relaxed, and she nearly forgot the very real danger she was in. She was snapped out of her brief feeling of serenity as the Grillby fully shifted his attention to her. He made a soft, questioning sound, and she kept her head low, speaking just barely loud enough for him to hear, “What’re ya serving, Grillby?” He grunted, well prepared to offer her a short, yet simple answer, but was cut off by another monster who seated himself beside the girl, “I don’t think I’ve seen you around these parts before, friend… where are you from?” The teen lowered her gaze to the countertop, catching a glimpse of what looked to be faded blue fur. She didn’t know what monster could possibly want to talk to her, but she remained as calm and casual as possible in hope of not drawing any more attention to herself, “The ruins.”

With their interest now fully piqued, the monster beside her hummed incredulously, “The ruins, huh?... I take it you’ve met our former queen then. Toriel.” Upon hearing the familiar goat monster’s name, the teen saw images flicker in her mind; memories of her time in the ruins before she managed to escape. How Toriel had guided her through all the traps and puzzles that laid in waiting. How she held her close and allowed her to sob into her shoulder. How she’d convinced Adrienne to go back to her house, where there’d be a warm bed, food, and all the love and care she could ever want. Toriel had baked a cinnamon and butterscotch pie, very excited to share it with her, but not long after the teen had eaten a small slice, she’d felt her stomach turn. Her world went black, and when she awoke, she was tucked into a bed in a dimly lit room, which looked as though it had once belonged to a child. She felt incredibly ill and had almost no strength, and she could barely stand without feeling light headed. To her surprise, however, her willing ally, Flowey, had made a surprise return. Adrienne had seen Toriel had burn him alive, so she didn’t understand how he was even still alive.

Flowey had been through this exact same situation too many times to count, as it turned out, and he’d revealed Toriel’s true intentions: make the teen weak enough to require constant care and attention, and make her stay in the ruins forever. Or at the very least, until she died. Taking advantage of a distraction provided by Flowey, she’d waited for the goat monster to disappear to another part of the house. She’d then made her way to the kitchen and began to search around the floorboards. According to Flowey, there was a panel that could be removed, and underneath it, she’d find the remedy she needed to regain her health. She’d found the vial and downed it without question, only to look up and see the crazed goat monster staring at her from the doorway. The look on her face was one that still occasionally haunted Adrienne's dreams, and she’d been trying to go as long as possible without thinking about it. It appeared as though she’d be getting no such luck today, though.

Clearing her throat and trying to force down her growing anxiety, she nodded, keeping her head down, “Yeah, I have. I’ve met her.” The blue furred stranger watched her with an unnerving amount of intensity and she fought the urge to squirm and lean away from them. As they spoke again, their voice held a curious edge, “Huh. I can only imagine how that went.” Nodding silently, the teen returned to her glass of water, more than ready for the stranger to go away. She knew what would happen if she was discovered, and she wanted no part of that whatsoever.

The monster leaned closer to her and sniffed the air, letting out a pleased sigh before mumbling, “Friend… you don’t exactly smell like one of us. Monsters have their own natural and unique scents... But you, however,” A fuzzy paw-like hand seized her arm with a vice-like grip, and the stranger's voice shifted from a mumble to what was more like a hiss, “you smell like you belong on the grill.” Adrienne began attempting to yank her arm back out of the monster’s grasp and they laughed, simply using their free hand to tug her hood down, revealing her identity to Grillby and the other bar patrons that surrounded them. Her faded grey eyes widened in fear as the monsters began to shout at the flamesman, excitedly demanding that he cook her for them. Despite how the teen shook her head in protest, the mass of living fire moved closer to her, rapidly snatching her up by the throat. She was lifted off of the ground, and he ignored her pained screams as the heat from his hand began to scorch the skin of her neck.

With adrenaline now coursing through her veins, she let out a string of expletives and pulled both of her legs up until her knees touched her chest. The flamesman took a single step toward his kitchen, and then froze as both of her deceptively weak legs shot toward him, delivering a sharp kick to the space just below his chest. She didn’t expect her little stunt to actually work, but to her pleasant surprise, he’d released his grip on her out of shock, gingerly touching the now injured part of himself. Adrienne dropped to the floor and quickly regained her balance, paying no attention to the few monsters who rushed to Grillby’s side. She proceeded to climb over the counter and sprint toward the door, the footsteps behind her a clear indicator that she was being pursued now. Not that she could blame them for any though; food was insanely hard to come by, so if you had a chance to eat but the food got up and ran, wouldn’t you go after it too?

Reaching out with a clawed hand, some unseen monster snagged a fistful of her hair and harshly pulled, causing her to yelp and almost tumble to the floor. She glanced around, surveying her surroundings and checking the exits again. Part of what looked to be a dog’s muzzle could be seen in her peripheral vision and she winced, struggling to free herself from the creature's grip. She only received an amused cackle from the monster in question, followed by him instructing some of the others to grab her and haul her back to the kitchen for Grillby. Looking around again and seeing them approaching her, she stuffed her hand into one of her pockets and fished around, searching through the various items inside for a moment before revealing a pocket knife. Unsure of what she might do, some of the monsters around her stepped back, but the one still pulling her hair only growled. Though she felt the hair on the back of her neck raise at the sound, she lifted an arm and made one single, fluid slicing motion with her hand, the blade of the pocket knife slicing through her hair. While she hated having to cut her hair and knew it’d take forever to grow back, she bared her teeth at the large dog monster, her lips curling into a smug grin as she noticed the look of surprise on his face.

Taking advantage of the moment, she darted to the nearest door, fully prepared to run out into the freezing streets and make a mad dash back to her protector’s house. Freedom and safety were so close and within her reach now, but as she whipped the door open and scrambled to get outside, she slammed face first into yet another monster. Letting out a frustrated and startled screech, she began trying to squeeze past them. They simply chuckled, wrapping an arm around her nearly size-zero waist and pulling her flush against themselves. Hearing the chuckle, realization dawned on her; this was her protector. She would be safe now.

She stole a glance up at his face and his scarlet iris flickered briefly down to her, his amused grin shifting into a taut line. Oh, she knew that expression all too well by now.

From that look alone, she knew someone would be hurt today.

Though his arm was almost uncomfortably tight around her, she said nothing, only turning her body slightly and burying her face in the front of his heavily blood stained shirt. The teen whimpered, wordlessly admitting just how scared she really was at the moment. He shifted his focus entirely to the other monsters that were now staring at both of them, and sensing their gaze, the teen whined faintly, her guardian lightly squeezing her in an effort to reassure her.

Thoroughly confused as to why she wasn’t dead yet, someone called out to her protector, “Perfect timing, Sans. Now how about you kill her so we can all eat already?” The skeleton’s normally rough voice held a bitter edge and he practically growled, “She ain’t free game, pal. I’m sorry ta say it, but I won’t be hackin’ this one ta bits for ya.” A crowd was beginning to form now and Adrienne tried to press as close to her friend as she could, wishing everyone would hurry up and leave. She already hated crowds on their own, and knowing that this particular crowd all wanted to see her get roasted alive didn’t exactly make her feel any better. Clearly taken aback, the same monster that’d addressed Sans spoke up again, “Oh really? And why’s that? You never helped the humans that fell before her, so what makes her so special?”

Curiosity piqued, she glanced up at the skeleton again, though he didn’t return the gaze. He just continued staring the other monster down, his iris nearly glowing now from the extent of his agitation, “Because she’s mine. Ya hear me? This little slab a’ meat belongs ta me.” A tiny burst of heat rushed to her face upon hearing his response; was he really claiming her right now? Claiming that she was his, and using his power over the others to coerce them into sparing her? Unbelievable.

Another monster decided to interject, countering Sans’ statement with, “Then how come you haven’t marked her yet?”

Oh boy. Of course someone would ask. Why wouldn’t they? She had no idea what she was expecting, but it clearly wasn’t that. With an annoyed huff, the skeleton spun her around, making sure everyone could see her face as he fired back with another sharp retort, “Heh, funny you should ask. I was on my way home with the intention of doin’ just that, but I guess we won’t have the privacy now. Oh well. All you fuckwits better be watchin’, because I’m only gonna do this once.”

Wait, he was going to mark her? Here? In front of everyone?

Face burning with embarrassment, she dropped her gaze to the floor, letting out a soft squeak as he grabbed the collar of her shirt and jacket and pulled them aside to reveal her shoulder. Not bothering to give any indication of what he was about to do, a faintly glowing blue tongue snaked out of his maw and traced over a very specific patch of her skin. The feeling of his tongue - which consisted solely of highly concentrated magic - on her skin was like nothing she’d experienced before. There was some warmth to it that was followed by a tingle, which was likely caused by the magic itself, and another involuntary whimper slipped past her lips. Her face grew hotter at hearing herself make that sound again, which to her horror, Sans had also heard. It earned a soft chuckle from him and his mandible shifted into a pleased grin.

And then he sunk his teeth into her shoulder.

It happened so fast that she didn’t even have time to register what happened, but at the lack of the expected pain, she unconsciously fidgeted. Wasn’t this supposed to hurt?... What was preventing her from being in pain right now? She felt his tongue trace over her skin again, accompanied by more tingling and… numbness? Had he intentionally numbed her shoulder before biting her?

Seeing that he had been true to his word and had in fact marked her, the other monsters quickly grew bored, the vast majority of them also visibly disappointed as they returned to their prior activities. A sense of relief washed over her and she sighed, stealing a quick glance at her friend as he slowly released her. His tongue lingered behind momentarily and lapped up the blood that seeped from the injury, and his voice took a husky tone as he purred, “Ya taste good, kiddo. I think I could get used ta this.” Her already flushed face became a much brighter shade of red than before and she scoffed, refusing to look at him, “Don’t count on it, mister.” “Awe, c’mon Addy. Help me out here… it’s not my fault that ya taste as good as ya look.” Growling softly, Adrienne scrunched her face up into a look of annoyance in hopes of masking her embarrassment as she rolled her eyes, “Pervert.” “No idea what you’re talkin’ about.” “Uh huh, right. I definitely believe that.” He lightly jabbed her side with the tip of a phalange and she squirmed, yelping in surprise. She tried to twist her small frame away from him and he laughed softly, “Whatever. How about we ditch this place and head home now? This bar is no place for a little lady like ya.” Looking back at him over her shoulder, she flicked her tongue at him.

They’d left the bar and began to walk home in uncomfortable silence. The moment they made it back to his house and he’d set her down, she found herself being roughly shoved against the closed front door with one of his large hands catching her wrists and pinning them above her head. Her eyes widened in shock and she squirmed, “H-Hey, what the hell are you-” Meeting her gaze, the look he wore was enough to silence her, his completely dilated red iris both captivating and terrifying her all at once.

Then he spoke, his gruff voice low, “You disobeyed me, Adrienne.”

Forcing her voice out and reaching nothing louder than a whisper, she frowned, “I… I know I did. I’m really sorry, Sans. I won’t do it again, I swear.” “Do you have any idea what would’ve happened if I didn’t get ta you in time?” “Yes, I do! Really!” “If you knew the risks, then why’d you do it?” Feeling much smaller than before as he continued staring her down, Adrienne sheepishly looked away from him, “There’s just.... Not a lot to do here when you and Paps are gone, and I was bored. I did a bunch of cleaning and reorganizing, and I even tried to fix the TV. I dug through the hallway closet and looked through the games, but do you have any idea how hard it is to actually play a game by yourself and have fun at the same time?”

With his free hand, the skeleton cupped his face, letting a deep sigh, “You risked your life… you risked dying, because you were bored? Am I hearin’ that right?” Feeling guilty, she slowly nodded, choosing to keep her mouth shut this time. Catching her completely by surprise, what sounded like a giggle could be heard, and though it took a moment to fully register, she had a realization that made her blood run cold; the giggle came from Sans.

Nervously lifting her gaze again to look up at him, the only thing that began to pulse within her was regret. Regret that she’d disobeyed him, regret that she went against his wishes, regret that she’d upset him so badly, regret that she even opened her mouth at all to speak to him, and most of all, regret that she’d decided to look at him.

He leaned back the smallest bit, one hand still firmly pinning her wrists above her head. Her eyes widened in complete terror as his giggling began to escalate, growing louder and louder until he was roaring with laughter as blue tinted tears pricked at the rims of his sockets. Not bothering to wipe away the tears, he placed his free hand on his face. His open palm rested on his cheek as he curled his fingers, the first two settling inside his empty socket; judging by the slight movement his arm made, he’d begun lightly tugging on the rim of it. That was never a good sign. Yes, she loved it when he relaxed enough to laugh with her from time to time, but this display right now? This was the stuff of nightmares.

Then almost as quickly as it’d started, his laughter came to an abrupt halt and his wide grin vanished, leaving only a resentful scowl behind in its place. As his focus shifted back to the teen, her heart began to race. She honestly had no idea what he planned to do now. He then began to slowly tighten his grip on her wrists, a soft growl rumbling from within his chest. Paying no attention to the grimace of pain she wore as his phalanges began digging into her skin, he leaned down, the space between them reduced to almost nothing as he hissed, “You’re an idiot. Get out of my goddamn sight, human.” Adrienne opened her mouth to force an apology out but was quickly cut off, crying out in surprise and pain as the skeleton dug his phalanges even further into her wrists and began to break skin. Rolling his single eye light, he scoffed, stepping back and suddenly yanking her to the side, releasing his grip on her wrists in time to make her small body become airborne. With the sound of something cracking and collapsing beneath her, she knew she’d landed at least partially on the coffee table.

Despite the pain that shot through her with even the smallest movement, the cold stare she was receiving from the skeleton was enough to make get back up, her head hung low as her eyes began to water up. Not wanting to show him this weaker, more vulnerable side of herself, she darted up the stairs, her feet padding across the slightly creaky wooden floor for only a brief moment. She then took refuge in the upstairs bathroom, slamming the door shut behind herself and flipping the latch, locking out the world. Trying to force down the very minute amount of guilt that began to bubble up within him, Sans let out an annoyed huff and glanced at the now completely busted coffee table. He was going to have a hell of a time explaining that to Papyrus later.

~~~

What seemed like a century had passed before the youngest of the two skeletons finally returned home, the sight of the smashed coffee table still lying on the floor enough to induce a sense of dread within him. Normally when he came home, his elder brother would greet him, or at the very least, be lazing about on the couch and offer him a half hearted wave that was usually followed by some sort of pun or terrible joke.

But no. Nothing. Sans was nowhere in sight, and neither was Adrienne. This only made Papyrus’ concern grow; he hoped beyond all hope that his brother hadn’t done anything to her.

The tall skeleton let out a soft sigh and crossed the living room. The exhaustion from the long day began to set in as he ascended the stairs, eager to take a shower and change into something more comfortable. He loved his battle body immensely, but sometimes his sore, tired bones made the item feel as though it weighed a thousand pounds. He wished he could simply change his clothes and climb into bed so he could go to sleep, but life wasn’t that simple for him; before he was allowed to relax, he needed to shower and make dinner for his brother and Adrienne, then the teen was to help him clean up the dishes once the three of them had finished eating. After all that, he was to take Adrienne to the backyard to test prototypes for new puzzles and traps. She was kind enough to help him make sure they worked correctly, so he was always vigilant, always watching to make sure she was never injured on any of them. Aside from being a puzzle and trap tester, his rather small human friend also delighted in helping him think of new puzzles, and she even designed some of her own. She seemed to enjoy partaking in games of pretend when they messed around with the action figures he’d collected over the years, and when Sans wasn’t around or flat out refused to do it, she didn’t mind reading to him before he fell asleep each night, either. They’d grown very close, and he cared for her almost as much as he cared for Sans. It was for all those reasons why he promised to protect her; he had to protect her. He’d become used to her presence and had grown to appreciate their friendship very much, and having her as his friend helped fill the void in his soul that was once occupied by the queen herself. He still considered Undyne a close friend, but the way she spoke and treated him now was… Execrable.

As he twisted the knob and nudged his bedroom door open, the scent of blood hit his nasal cavity and he felt his body tense. Gently pushing the door shut behind his massive frame once he’d crossed the threshold, he made his way to his desk and flicked on the small lamp that resided on its far left corner, the light illuminating his multitude of action figures and an old map.

The faint sound of movement caught Papyrus’ attention and he looked down toward the source, almost unable to believe what he was seeing; the human was in his bed, lying on her side and wrapped in his old blankets. An open first aid kit sat on the floor next to the bed, and cloth bandages were wrapped loosely around her slender neck. Her hair, which was once nearly long enough to reach her lower back, was now much shorter; it looked as though it was cut hastily by some sort of blade. While her arms were mostly concealed by the blankets, he could see that her wrists had also been wrapped in bandages, a familiar crimson threatening to seep through the material. As she shifted again in her slumber, her shirt began to slip down her shoulder and revealed another large bandage, more crimson staining the fabric. His brow bones furrowed as he took note of how the crimson staining it formed a half circle… as if the injury was because of a bite.

In his consternation, Papyrus reached out, a single gloved hand settling on her uninjured shoulder. He leaned down, his spine already aching from the awkward angle as he lowered his voice and did his best not to startle her, “Human?... Adrienne? Please, I Need You To Wake Up. Come On Human, Please.” As she slowly began to stir, he fought the urge to scoop her up into his arms and shelter her from whatever had left her in her current condition.

As her eyes fluttered open and she took notice of the skeleton towering over her, all traces of exhaustion vanished and her eyes widened, a sound of surprise slipping past her lips. In her momentary panic, she’d sat up and tried to move away from him, her chest heaving as she drew in one deep breath after another. Papyrus gently shushed her, offering her a weak, apologetic smile, “Hey, Hey, It’s Alright. It’s Just Me, Adrienne. I Didn’t Mean To Startle You, I Swear. I’m So Sorry For Scaring You.”

Registering who was with her, the teen released a deep sigh of relief. She gave Papyrus no time to prepare himself before she practically threw herself at him, wrapping her arms around whatever she could reach before clinging to his battle body. Though he was visibly caught off guard, he delicately encircled her with his arms, one hand finding her uninjured shoulder again before he lightly squeezed, his voice laced with concern, “Adrienne?... What’s Wrong? What Happened To You?”

The only response he received from the girl in his arms was a muffled sob and he frowned, moving his hand from her shoulder to her face. He used his index finger to tilt her head back, allowing him to see her tear stained face, and as her bottom lip twitched and another tear rolled down her cheek, he frowned; normally she was such a strong, upbeat person. To see her this way was heartbreaking.

The skeleton lowered his voice even further, reducing it to a whisper, “Adrienne, Please… Tell Me What Happened. I Want To Help You.” Her lip twitched again and she sniffled, reaching up to wipe her tears away with her sleeve, “I just… Papy… I just wanted to go outside... I just wanted some fresh air… I didn’t mean for this to happen.” Still frowning, Papyrus gently ran his fingers through her hair and tilted his head, his voice remaining low, “What Do You Mean?... Did Sans Do This To You?” Upon hearing the name of the older skeleton brother, Adrienne tightened her grip on Papyrus, her voice beginning to waver as more tears rolled down her face, gathering at her jaw and dripping down onto her shirt, “Papy… I was so stupid. I made him mad at me. I upset Sans.”

Papyrus’ frown deepened; he knew how his brother could be whenever he had one of his episodes, and never in a million years would he wish for anyone to become the recipient of Sans' delirium. The skeleton sighed as he gently stroked the teen’s hair, “It’ll Be Ok, I Promise. You May Stay Here Tonight If You’d Like, And I’ll Be Sure To Speak With Him About This. Do You Think You Could Tell Me Everything, Though? I Can’t Be Of Any Help To You If I Don’t Know All The Details.” With a heavy heart, she slowly nodded and looked up, meeting his gaze, “I… I went outside today... by myself. I went into town, and I went to Grillby’s. It smelled like food in there, and I was so hungry… I thought I’d find something to eat. I kept myself as covered as possible, but I was caught and got grabbed by Grillby,” she paused, visibly ashamed as she gestured to her neck, “…I got burned.”

The skeleton made a soft sound in understanding and nodded, silently asking her to continue, which she did, “Someone else grabbed my hair and I had to cut it to get away from them. Then when I opened the door and went to run outside, I ran face first into Sans. He told everyone there not to mess with me, that I wasn’t free game because I belonged to him. Then he marked me. Right there, with everyone watching. He was a little flirty afterward and he seemed happy enough, so I thought everything was ok, but when we got here, he… he had an episode.”

Papyrus didn’t know what to make of everything he’d just been told; on one hand, she suffered numerous injuries and nearly died, and on the other hand, she was marked by Sans.

Normally whenever a monster marked someone, it meant that they saw that person as their mate and that they wanted to claim them as their own. That they loved that person with every fiber of their body and soul. Being marked also served as a way to protect someone from other monsters, but there had been cases of a mark not being enough to guarantee the safety of a monster's mate.

Being marked was not only a big deal, but it was also something that every self respecting monster knew should be done in private. The fact that Sans marked her in the first place was absolutely astounding, but the fact that he had the absolute nerve to take something that was meant to be special, shared between mates and no one else, and turned it into some obscene gesture that he performed in front of a crowd, undoubtedly humiliating Adrienne in the process… It was unacceptable.

He needed to speak to Sans, and he needed to do it now.

Releasing a deep sigh, Papyrus lifted a hand to idly rub the back of his neck, “I See… I Cannot Apologize Enough On My Brother’s Behalf. I’ll See If I Can Get Anything Out Of Him That Would Explain Why He’d Behave This Way. Hopefully… Hopefully He Doesn’t Clam Up, Like He Seems To Always End Up Doing. Will You Be Alright Here While I’m Away? I Don’t Want To Leave You Alone If You’re Still Feeling A Little Too Overwhelmed And Freaked Out By Everything.” The teen sniffled, absentmindedly wiping her face with her sleeve again as she nodded, “Uh huh… I think so.” Catching the slight uncertainty in her voice, he offered her a reassuring smile, “I’ll Try To Be Back As Soon As Possible, Alright? How About You Pick Out Some Puzzles For Us To Work On When I Return? A Few Good Puzzles Always Help Me Feel Better Whenever I’m A Bit Rattled, So I’m Confident They’ll Do The Same For You, Too!” Adrienne couldn’t help the small smile that curled her lips upward at how eager he was to help her, and she nodded again, “Ok, Pap… that sounds good to me. When you get back, do you think maybe you could help me fix my bandages a little? Some of them are still too loose and I dunno if I missed any little spots anywhere.” Perking up at the request, Papyrus beamed, gently unwrapping his arms from around her and ruffling her hair, “Yes, Of Course! The Great Papyrus Would Be Happy To Assist You, Adrienne!” Letting go of the skeleton, Adrienne smiled up at him; he was such a sweet guy, and despite their circumstances, he was always so optimistic. He still maintained a sense of morality as well, unlike the other monsters. She honestly wasn’t sure what she’d do without him at times.

Reluctantly parting from his small human friend, Papyrus slipped out of the room, carefully closing the door behind himself. Once he was gone, Adrienne sighed, climbing out of his bed and making her way over to a shelf. As she looked over the various boxes and puzzle books, she came to the conclusion that it probably didn’t matter which one she chose; as long as it’d keep her and that goofball busy for a while, it was good enough for her. As she reached out to grab a thick puzzle book, she winced. Her free hand moved to gingerly touch the bandage on her shoulder; at the twinge of pain, her mind drifted to Sans. After earlier, she should’ve learned her lesson and given up on disobeying the very specific rules that her friends had established. She was a curious being by nature though, and she’d be damned if she had to go on without receiving any answers.

Her curiosity and desire to know why Sans would mark her grew even stronger. She grabbed the puzzle book and dropped it on Papyrus’ bed, before peeking out of the room and glancing around the hall. Against her better judgement, she began to search for the pair of brothers. The most logical place Sans would be at this time of night would be in his room, or downstairs on the living room sofa. If those two places weren’t it, then she’d have to check the basement. No biggie. As she tiptoed down the empty hallway, she briefly paused to look over the railing and down into the living room, and found that Sans was nowhere in sight. On her way toward the stairs, she caught the sound of a mumbled conversation through Sans’ closed bedroom door and froze; she knew better than to go into his room without knocking, so she opted to stay in the hall and eavesdrop, rather than barge in on whatever he and Papyrus were talking about at the moment.

Inside the closed off room, Sans rolled his eye light, trying his best to brush off the lecture he was receiving from his younger brother. It’s not like he did anything to Papyrus personally, so he didn’t understand why Pap thought he needed to get involved. Not in the slightest. Completely exasperated with Sans’ stubbornness, Papyrus pinched the bridge of his nose and let out a deep sigh, “Sans, Honestly. You Didn’t Have To Take It That Far. The Poor Girl’s Probably Traumatized And Too Ashamed To Ever Want To Leave The House Again.” Sans grunted, flopping down onto his back on his old, worn mattress, “Remind me how that’s a bad thing again, Pap. So far, I’m not seein’ any problems with it.” The taller of the two inhaled deeply, briefly closing his sockets as he tried to gather his thoughts, “Sans… Brother. I Love You, But What You Did Today Wasn’t Ok. I Don’t Understand Why You’re So Calm And Casual About It.” Gaining a very clearly agitated edge, Sans practically growled, “It’s really fuckin’ simple. If she’s too ashamed ta leave the house, then good! At least she’ll stay put then and save me a lot a’ trouble in the future.”

Not even remotely threatened by his older brother’s tone of voice, Papyrus snapped, suddenly shouting, “LANGUAGE, SANS. MAYBE SHE DIDN’T LISTEN TO YOU, BUT THAT’S NO REASON TO TREAT HER THIS WAY. IT IS MOST CERTAINLY NOT A VALID REASON TO GO AND PUBLICLY HUMILIATE HER, THEN COME HOME AND SCARE HER HALF TO DEATH, EITHER. YOU ALSO BROKE THE COFFEE TABLE, SANS. SOME OF US HAVE TO PAY FOR THINGS LIKE THAT, YOU KNOW!”

From her spot in the hallway, Adrienne flinched, her eyes widening. Not once had she ever seen Papyrus so upset that he shouted like this. This was a whole new experience, and she could already say that it was both surprising and terrifying all at once.

The shorter of the two let out an exaggerated groan, beginning to absentmindedly tap the tips of his phalanges on the bed as he stared up at the ceiling, “As far as the table goes, I’ll replace the damn thing if it really means that much ta you. What am I supposed ta do about the kid though? If I really scared her as much as you’re sayin’ I did, then she won’t want anythin’ ta do with me. It’s not like I can just walk up to her and go, ‘hey, you know that day when I got mad at you? I’m sorry and I won’t do it again.’” Papyrus hummed, crossing his arms over his chest, “Well… A Sincere Apology Is Only Half Of What I Think You Owe Her.” “Yeah? And what’s the other half?” “To Be Completely Blunt About It, She Knows What It Means To Be Marked.”

The older skeleton brother nearly choked on air, his cheekbones dusting a soft shade of blue, “What the hell?… Ok, then… What about it? Everyone probably knows what it means.” “What I’m Saying Is That She Knows Monsters Wouldn’t Mark Anyone Unless That Person Was Tremendously Important To Them, And Unless They Saw Them As Their Mate. Not Only Is There That, But She Told Me That You Were Somewhat Flirtatious Toward Her After The Incident Today At Grillby’s. You’re Sending Some Incredibly Mixed Signals, Sans. She More Than Likely Was Under The Impression That You Have Some Very Strong Feelings For Her, But Then You Came Home And Basically Told Her To Get Lost Before Throwing Her At The Coffee Table. She Has No Idea Where She Stands Right Now. The Other Half Of What You Need To Do Is Be Honest With Her. Tell Her If You Feel Something For Her, Or Tell Her If You Don’t. Just Make It Clear To Her So She Knows What She Is To You.”

Bolting upright into a sitting position, Sans stared up at his younger brother in disbelief, “So you’re suggestin’ that I go confess my love ta her or somethin’? Is that what you’re tryna tell me right now, Papyrus?” “If You Love Her, Then Yes, That Is Exactly What I’m Trying To Tell You.” Pressing his index and middle finger to one of his temples, the older of the two narrowed his sockets, grumbling under his breath, “Ya gotta be fuckin’ kiddin’ me… this is so stupid…” Taking a seat on the edge of the bed beside Sans, Papyrus arched a brow bone and tilted his head, “Language, Brother… All Of This Might Seem Stupid To You, Maybe, But It’s A Big Deal And It Needs To Be Addressed. If You Really See Her As Your Mate, She Needs To Know. And Hey, It’s Alright To Feel Embarrassed About This Sort Of Thing. It’s Completely Natural. For Starters, Maybe You Could Try To Help Me Better Understand Your Reasons For Marking Her? I’m All Ears! In A... Manner Of Speaking.”

Sans snuck an uncertain glance up at him and let out a deep sigh, leaning forward to cover both eyes with his hands, “...Don’t make me talk about this right now, Pap. Please. I can’t do it. I just can’t, what if I-” Papyrus was quick to wrap his arms around his older brother, lightly squeezing his shoulder, “Sans, No. Stop. You’re Overthinking Again. Take A Deep Breath And Try To Relax. It’s Just Me Here, And If You Preferred That I Don’t Tell Her What You Say, Then I Won’t. You Have My Word. Just Trust Me… That’s All I’m Asking Of You Right Now. Please, Just Trust Me.”

#writing #tw angst #tw mild violence #tw humiliation #oc insert #undertale #undertale au #horrortale #horrortale au #horrortale sans #horrortale papyrus #horror sans #axe sans #crooks papyrus

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ghostpajamas · 3 years

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GOD. GOD. YOUR THIRD LIFE ANIMATIC HAS ME IN SHAMBLES!! The editing of the music and the voice clips flow so well together. And I love how you show how happy everyone else is. How it all gets so much darker and more sinister when scar hits red. THAT SHORT OF GRIAN LOOKING HORRIFIED AS THE HEART SHATTERS ON THE GROUND,,, “there’s a room where the light won’t find you, holding hands as the walls come tumbling down” and Grian’s respawn room. GOD GOD GOD KABSKSBWK IM IN SHAMBLES OVER IT

I love the shot of Grian and scar covered in blood— and their expressions are just so good and show so much about their feelings about the whole affair— as it focuses on the friendship pass IMMEDIATELY FOLLOWED BY THE “YOU CAN KILL ME” CLIP???? YOU KILLED ME

The image of the darkness slowly overtaking Grian was so just… it was beautiful, and it was horrifying. I loved how it started with his eyes when Scar first died— then it covers his hands and face after he’s red. When he realizes just how much blood is on his hands. And how you tweened the eyes!! The tweening in their entire video is so phenomenal and the “I don’t feel good” clip with Grian covered in blood and crawling to the edge was just JAGSKEHKWEH GOD GOD GOD ITS SO GOOD!!!

The warping of his figure as he begins to fall is so good and I love the ending so much and just KABSKWBKWHW GOD I hope you know now how much I adore it

AUAJAHSJAJDGK I HADNT ANSWERED YOUR YOUTUBE COMMENT YET SO YOU COME TO MY ALTAR (ask box) NOW THATS DEVOTION... thank you for sending it here, there r so many heartfelt comments on youtube that i want to answer sincerely but that means i must take my time about it and not ramble like a FREAK about every detail. i WILL do that here though

i am so so so so so glad you and so many other r enjoying that video to the degree that you do and finding so much meaning in the few things that i did not plan for LOL i did not even notice a tonal shift when scar turned red. so many of the events i drew are out of chronological order that it didnt even register, hell one of the opening shots shows grian at the top of the cliff

see the darkness overtaking him thing (throughout the whole animatic i mean) was a topsy turvy road in my brain. because like, i draw grians eyes fully black normally. i just think it's neat, it matches his mc skin. so stuff with his eyes being black is negligible unless we're looking at his scleras which do get a bit darker when the blood is spreading. the black irises do expand a bit too. (the shot where he sees scars 2nd death, the black eyes made him look not 'stricken with panic and grief' enough so i left them out)

but the blood coating him? from the fight and then his bound wings finally breaking free now that hes safe and alone, only to be twisted and wretched forms of what they couldve been with care ? well yeah that was on purpose. i sketched that sequence during a 2 hour kikuo bender. i was thinking a lot about that 3l comic with the line 'all that blood was never beautiful, it was just red' too. warping his figure was fun i wanted to make it look like he was wobbling on the balls of his feet and staggering but WOW he looks inhuman goopy in the final product

(also the shot with scar and the friend pass, the other guy is bdubs not grian, that why grians sword swings down above them and bdubs isn't looking in the direction it comes from. this is also why the friend pass in the intro is crumpled and with a bloody handprint.)

ahhhh the grian respawn room...the first time in the video i hint at grian going his own way and where that road ends for them...im messed up in the head about being alone in the world, compelled to kill the person who you stayed by, who you killed, who killed YOU and now theyre. gone. and you dont know what to do without them. and it hurts (literally and metaphorically)

okay i have gone on for a while goodbye <3

#ghostpost #LONG POST #ask #3l

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bearplush · 2 years

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thoughts

ot7 tracks: this part of the album is kind of like an ot7 mini and honestly without the solo tracks im not totallyyyy sure how satisfied i’d be with this album but with all of the tracks together it definitely works

intro: that switch up :o

locked inside a door: i kind of wish the first line was the chorus if that makes sense (edit: i have since changed my mind about this). i don’t fully know what to make of this song yet except that i really like it, it’s a really strong b-side and unique while still being very recognizably dreamcatcher

maison: as i said before this is SOO catchy. i think the chorus will be stuck in my head for a while, either that or the “la maison, la la la maison” part (btw i especially liked the scream-esque vocal effects in that part). the video was just...not really my thing tbh but that’s fine, sometimes it just comes down to personal preference and this one didn’t really match mine is all. with the outfits and choreo though i’m SO excited for the stages. once i finally saw the lyrics i liked it even more -- it’s a really interesting topic for them to address (edit: 🙃🙃🙃🙃🙃🙃), and how amazing would it be if this could be the track that gets them more gp recognition or (gasp) their first win??

starlight: this song 🤝 star by loona (complimentary)

together: i actually really like this one, it’s really fun and while idk how often i would search it up specifically, i definitely won’t skip it when it comes on

always: balladcatcher always sounds good, but i have to be honest i’ve mostly been skipping this so far to get to the solos lol, so i’ll have to form my real opinion later 😅

skit: not a skit lol but it sounds nice and i think it works well as a transition into the solo tracks

solo tracks: overall each member’s track really reflects their own personal style and i’m so happy for them that dcc gave them this opportunity. honestly i was a little skeptical cause i tend not to like solo/unit songs as much as full group songs for most groups, but i should have known i would like these bc honestly dc isn’t like most groups for me in that i equally love every single member’s voice and style. anyway i hope this means they’ll participate more in future albums too 👀

cherry (real miracle): just the fact that she wrote this about cherry means i automatically have to love it. like alldaylong, this song just screams jiu, it’s so bright and fun and i can see myself listening to it a lot as the weather gets warmer

no dot: i know this was a fan favorite from the highlight medley but i wasn’t sure about it but wowow was i proven wrong because this is SO good and on par with lots of groups’ title tracks imo

entrancing: an unexpected favorite!! not that i don’t love siyeon’s voice but the clip from the highlight medley and the fact that it’s a ballad made me think i wouldn’t be super into this but omg it’s so good???? obviously siyeon’s vocals are amazing but i also love the instrumental

winter: i know it’s called winter but i’m already picturing myself lazing around to this song on a hot summer afternoon. handong’s voice is angelic and really fits the slightly lofi vibes of the instrumental. the chinese outro was such a nice touch <3

for: omg another unexpected favorite!! this one grew on me throughout the day yesterday and now i love it. i especially love the piano

beauty full: i will never not like pop punk. someone on reddit said dami joe armstrong and as someone whose first hard-saved-for album as a teen was american idiot, they were absolutely right and i’m HERE for it (although i’ll also accept dami lavigne as another and potentially more accurate possibility). probably my favorite of the solos but it’s still early!

playground: 💕💞💖💗💘💗💕💞💓💖 i’m clearly running out of things to say lol but if it’s not too bold to say i get iu vibes from this?? and again with the great piano! i loved all the piano in this album in general actually

it could be recency bias but overall i’m really happy with this album and despite the wintery vibe of some tracks i’m really looking forward to listening to it this spring and summer! standout tracks for me are locked inside a door, maison, together, no dot, entrancing, for, beauty full, playground

#on dreamcatcher's album that i wrote at work yesterday lol #dc is giving me levels of brainrot i havent experienced since my a*my days lol i need to like them less D:#ok this is probably at the bottom of ppl's dashes by now let me unprivate it 😇

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bangtiddies · 4 years

Text

Romance Writer Kim Namjoon

Pairing: Namjoon x Reader Genre: Crack, and maybe a smidge of fluff Rating: PG-13 Words: 1.3k Warnings: so cheesy you might cringe, misunderstanding

Summary: You decide to confess to Kim Namjoon, the smart and handsome man you’ve been admiring from the back of your statistics class. But your confession doesn’t go the way you expected it to. or A Gekkan Shoujo Nozaki-kun AU with Namjoon as Nozaki.

Note: a very, very, belated birthday gift for @interludemoonchild!! I wish I got this finished a lot sooner but I hope you enjoy!! Love you so much baby, I’m so honoured and happy to call you my friend, and happy belated birthday!!!

Standing in front of the classroom door, you wonder about how you look to people who might be passing by. Why are you staring at the door as if it’s about to start a fight with you?

You shake out what people might think of you and focus on the situation. You’re going to confess. That’s right, you’re finally going to confess to the person you’ve been harbouring a crush on for the last two years.

You take a deep breath in, giving yourself another small pep talk in your head, before opening the door to the classroom. There, standing by the window, is Kim Namjoon, looking cool, calm, and collected. You swoon a little, before realising why you’re there. Determination on your face, you march toward Namjoon, stopping a couple metres away from him.

“Kim Namjoon,” you declare, perhaps a little too loudly. He turns to look at you, confused with wide eyes, and your cheeks heat up in embarrassment. “I, uh, I have something to say.”

Perhaps your confidence and determination wasn’t enough because Namjoon looks a little concerned and confused. Still, he smiles, the sight so dazzling that you have to blink to make sure you don’t go blind.

Your hands shake a little, but you clench them into fists. You’ve got this.

“Kim Namjoon,” you say, a little softer, your voice wavering a little. “I’ve–”

The looks he gives you, the intense interest, the concern, the confusion, makes you want to turn around and run from the scene. But no, you’ve spend all day trying to hype yourself up. You’re going to confess.

“I’ve always admired you!”

Pause.

You stand in embarrassment, quickly looking down to your feet in fear of bursting into tears in front of him. All you can hear is your heart beating, mind swirling with thoughts and emotions. Namjoon’s taking an awful amount of time responding to your confession and you’re ready to take his silence as rejection and run from the scene. Until you hear him rummaging through his pencil case.

You listen to him write something, the sound of what you assume is a permanent marker on some kind of card. Heart beathing in your chest, you’re afraid of the kind of response you might receive in written form.

After what feels like a million years, you finally see a piece of white card being handed to you, with a personalised message and signature.

Dear Y/N, I hope that my fiction has brought happiness and love upon your soul. Thank you for reading! - RM

Your brain doesn’t process the words written fully, but you do know that your confession had completely gone over Namjoon’s head. When you look up to face Namjoon, his bashful smile confirms your assumption. He thinks you admire his work.

“No, I meant,” you stutter out, struggling to find your words. “I meant that I always want to be by your side.”

You internally grown at your own words. Just say ‘date me’ damn it!

Namjoon furrows his eyebrows and purses his lips, appearing as if he’s thinking. You hope that your words made sense to him. You really don’t want to say even more words and lead yourself into Not Able to Confess Like a Normal Person territory.

No, Namjoon’s smart. That’s why you like him so much. He’s probably one of the fastest thinkers in the whole school, and currently has the best grade point average in his area of study. You have faith that he’ll understand your strange words.

He finally seems to decipher what you’ve said, eyebrows raising in realisation. “Want to come over to my place, then?”

You sit awkwardly on the couch in Namjoon’s flat, fiddling with your fingers as you try not to look around too much. You’re curious if it’s a one bedroom flat or if he shares it with a flatmate. You count the doors you can see, excluding the front door you entered. One, two, three.

And then you realise. You’re in Namjoon’s house. In the house of the person you just confessed to. Does that mean he brings any girl over to his house after they confess to him? Or are you a special case? Is there going to be more than just sipping the cups of tea that he’s preparing right now?

Namjoon brings the cups of tea to the coffee table, placing one in front of you. The smell of ginger soothes your anxious mind. You thank him in a quiet voice, picking up the cup of tea and taking a sip. It feels warm in your chest, and the smile Namjoon gives you warms you up even more.

“So,” Namjoon says, after a few sips of ginger tea. “Let’s get started, shall we?”

Your heartbeat picks up at his words, discreetly (but maybe not so discreetly) looking around the room to figure out what is about to get started. You see Namjoon standing up and walking toward a desk, opening a drawer and going through it. You stare at him as he does so, taking in every angle of the man in front of you. He looks calm, serene, a whole lot more beautiful in the comfort of his own home. And you’re here to witness it.

Perhaps you might witness more sides of Kim Namjoon.

Namjoon seems to find the item he was looking for, pulling out a small stack of paper clipped together by a paper clip, and walking back to where you’re sitting. He hands you the papers with a dimpled smile, and you furrow your eyebrows as you take them. Is this a form of agreement? Is Namjoon the kind of guy who creates contracts for relationships?

You take a look at the papers in your hands, a title page greeting you.

Column #19: The Festival of Love

You frown, confused by the title, confused with what’s going on. You look up at Namjoon, at the hopeful look in his eyes, but you can’t piece together what’s going on right now.

“Um,” you start.

“Oh, you’ll probably need a pen or pencil, right?” Namjoon interrupts, rushing back to the desk and opening another drawer, rummaging through it to find a good pen. “Sorry, I’m usually not exactly sure what most editors need, but I’m really appreciative of your help.”

You blink.

Editors?

That’s when you decide to properly look at the title page. In the bottom right hand corner, there’s a small text written — draft 2, needs to be edited.

Oh. Oh.

Namjoon hands you a pen, and without thinking, you get straight into it. Your mind and hands start moving like clockwork, flicking through the writing and editing it.

As you work, Namjoon sits beside you, typing away on his laptop. You don’t really dwell on the situation, as your mind is more focused on the editing, but something about sitting beside Namjoon and working feels… nice. Like you’re meant to be there.

It isn’t until you finish editing when realisation sinks in.

“Wait,” you say, shock settling in. “You write romance novels?”

Namjoon looks a little flustered, confused at your shock. “I mean, I write columns for the university’s website. I thought you already knew?”

No. You didn’t know. You’ve been crushing on Namjoon for two years and you didn’t know. And when you try to think back to any sort of indication of Namjoon’s writing career, you remind yourself of the signature he gave you when you confessed.

Signed by, none other than the popular romance writer of the school, RM.

You didn’t think about the relation between Namjoon and RM at the time, mind only focused on your confession. You stare at Namjoon, eyes wide, mouth open in shock, a million thoughts running through your head.

One thing is for certain, however.

Kim Namjoon, the smartest person you know, also known as Romance Master RM, is completely and utterly dense.

But for some odd reason, you find yourself more attracted to him.

“Yeah,” you say with a nervous laugh. “I’m a big fan.”

211 notes · View notes

jedimasterkelly · 3 years

Text

Shit happens when you're a woman. A lot of shit. Bad shit. And a lot of the time, you will run into doctors who do not listen to you. Will not care about you, and will not take you seriously.

This story is about the Great Cancer Scare of 2020.

I was 49, and 3 yrs post menopause. I was pleased about that, as it means no more period ever. I could deal with the occasional hot flashes, and the snapping of necks of anyone who dared bother me. Then in May of 2020, after the pandemic fully hit and the University I work at closed and sent all of us to work from home, I got very sick. Not from Covid, thankfully, but something else. I had started bleeding, and it wasn't menstrual blood. It was bright red and HEAVY. I was filling post-natal pads within 2 hours. I called the Women's Clinic where my OB-GYN lived. They couldn't see me until July. WTF! I called my GP, who got me in on an emergency basis, I mean, 3 yrs post-menopausal women don't just spring a leak, you know? My ovarian function had been almost nil for 3 years. He called my OB-GYN and demanded I get seen right away. They made an appointment for 2 weeks later. Keep reading, because it's quite a ride!

Seriously! 2 weeks later!

In the meantime, my GP discovered my thyroid was tanked out, so I was put on Levothyroxine 25mcg. It helped a lot. I started to feel a little bit more human, at least in the brain area. I finally got in to the OB-GYN, and he did a biopsy and trans-vaginal ultrasound. We got the results 2 weeks later and he called me in to go over them. He said I had hyperplasia with atypia. Cells were dividing rapidly, and he was very concerned. He recommended an endometrial ablation, or a full hysterectomy. At 49 he wasn't concerned with me having a sudden maternal urge (I have no kids), so he was fine with either choice. I decided on the hysterectomy, because why not? Endometrium grows back after an ablation, and why bother at my age? Just yank it all and let me get back to my life.

He said he didn't feel safe doing the procedure, since the cells were most likely cancerous and rapidly dividing, so he sent a referral to one of the cancer centers in OKC. I expected a call within a couple of weeks. I mean, really, if I have the early stages of endometrial cancer, they'd call me in immediately, right? Right?

Crickets. Literal crickets for 4 months! I was very concerned, hell, worried I was going to get full blown cancer and these jackasses weren't going to try and help me at all. I called OB-GYN several times during that 4 month period, and was told the cancer center in OKC wasn't returning their calls. I called them numerous times, and could never get a person on the phone.

I was told it was the pandemic. The pandemic was shutting everything down and causing huge backlogs for non-Covid issues to be seen. I told OB-GYN to refer me to the oncologist from Tulsa, who also worked once a month in Stillwater at the SMC Cancer Center. He didn't want to, he wanted me to see the doctor in OKC (who wasn't returning anyone's calls!) I called SMC Cancer Center and asked how soon I could get in with Dr. Thomas. His office called back within 2 hours asking for my chart and biopsy results. I had the Womens Clinic send my information to Dr. Thomas in Tulsa. Within a week, they called and had me on the schedule to see him in Stillwater on his next visit.

This is where the story gets good. And by good, I mean, WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK. Thanks for sticking with me this far.

Got in to see Dr. Thomas. I researched him and learned we have the same Alma Mater. That day, we were both wearing t-shirts from said same Alma Mater. Instant bonding! I also work in Administration at said same Alma Mater, so we spent some time discussing (gossiping) about my department since he had taken classes with a lot of my faculty during his undergrad. Then he got serious and handed me my biopsy report. He told me he was going to assume I wasn't shown this, since I am:

1. A Master's of Science graduate student in Education Leadership - this making me a researcher who knows how to do research, do research, and understand research.

2. Work full time in a Physical Sciences department at a Big 12 University.

3. Edit manuscripts for my Dept. Chair, thus proving I am scientifically literate. You can't edit scientific manuscripts without having a good, solid knowledge of said science. If he's alternating between "adsorb" and "absorb", I have to understand his research in order to correct his manuscript. This is important because his manuscripts have to be peer reviewed before they can be published in a reputable journal.

"Read it to me, out loud," he said.

I started reading from the paper in my professional scientist voice. It didn't take long before I began to falter as I came to the realization I had been lied to.

"Read it again," he said.

This time, I read it with a lot more heat in my voice.

Diagnosis: no hyperplasia with atypia, no abnormal cells detected

Dr. Thomas waited for me to explode. I didn't. I just stared at him in anger and horror. He offered to do another biopsy to make sure, but he suggested I fire my OB-GYN immediately and find someone who actually gives a shit about me.

I was still randomly bleeding, 6-9 weeks at a time, so we agreed on another trans-vaginal ultrasound and biopsy. The attached photo shows he took 3 samples from my uterus. He wanted to be sure.

A little ditty about endometrial biopsies:

They hurt like a motherfucker.

Take 2-3 ibuprofen before you leave the house to go to your procedure.

Relax. It usually only lasts a couple of minutes. The doctor normally takes 1 or 2 samples. Pinch, snip, clip, done.

Not this guy. He wanted to be surely sure.

He went for a 3rd pinch snip clip. My uterus seized up in the most painful spasm I ever had in my life. I almost came off the table. He was seated on a little rolly stool so he shot back away from me before I could connect his head to my foot. He triumphantly held up his little weapon of Uterine Destruction and declared, "Got it!"

"Yeah, you almost got your ass kicked mister," I growled at him.

"It was worth it to get this beauty of a sample."

So, after a biopsy of your uterus, expect some bleeding and cramping. I had severe cramps for 2 days. I was not amused. We're talking laying in bed with a heating pad and ibuprofen every 4 hours kind of cramping.

Got the results back in a couple of weeks. No cancer. No hyperplasia. No abnormal cell growth. He recommended I find a new OB-GYN fast. I decided fuck it, I'm done. I'm never seeing another OB-GYN ever again.

Dr. Thomas said several times he's convinced my issues are endocrinal. I filed that away in the back of my mind.

(if you ever do test positive for cancer and you are in the Tulsa area, I highly recommend Dr. Eric Thomas! Make sure you have a sense of humor with him.)

My GP started pressuring me back in March of 2021 to find a new OB-GYN. The Women's Clinic has several, but they have a fucked up rule you can't switch doctors there. So if you go there, you are stuck with the same doctor and can't move over to his colleague on another floor. I saw my GP again, and asked if he was still best buds with a gynecologist who had his own clinic. He was always full, and not taking new patients, so GP would have to call his buddy to get me in.

Which he did. Buddy-GYN's office called the very next day to schedule me in. He had been sent my chart and was concerned about the long bleeds (6-9 weeks in duration) and why the fuck were they happening after being 3 yrs post-menopause.

I went in for a consult in April of 2021. First thing out of his mouth, "Has anyone ever talked to you before about PCOS?"

I laughed.

I laughed because every GYN I saw over the last 20 years told me I didn't have PCOS, endometriosis, or any sort of hormonal issues. I was just fat, lazy, and a piggy pig pig. I actually had one OB-GYN tell me to go on The Biggest Loser. Fat shamed while sitting there naked on his table after an invasive exam of my female bits. Thanks a lot, asshole.

I told him about that. He informed me he could tell by LOOKING at me I have the classics signs of PCOS. I use an epilator on my crazy man-hairs, so he asked if I was tweezing or waxing. I about fell out of my chair. Nobody ever believed me that I was having to remove crazy thick hairs off my chin and neck all the time. He asked if I ever had ovarian cysts. Affirmative, I was diagnosed with ovarian cysts the first time one exploded back in 1994. He stood there, holding the bridge of his nose and shook his head.

"Well, going by your chief complaints, your abdominal circumference, history of bursting cysts, and no period for 3 years, I am saying you have PCOS."

He went on to discuss my need for an appointment with an endocrine specialist, he was convinced my thyroid tanking out sent my ovaries back into production, and now my hormones are all over the place, most likely, and I needed specialized care.

He must have talked to GP, because I soon got a call from the endo clinic to come in.

This post is already long and tedious, but I am happy to say I finally have 3 doctors who listen to me. My new Endo doc tripled my levothyroxine and scheduled a follow up blood test for next month. Buddy-GYN talked me into a pap smear and cervical exam in July as well. He also wants a mammogram, which I begrudgingly need to schedule so he doesn't chew my ass in July when I walk in with no results. GP is working on my other issues (weight, bad fluid retention, etc...). We discovered from a blood test last Friday my iron levels are dangerously low. I am now on a Rx iron supplement. I've always struggled with anemia, but it never occurred to me or GP to check my iron levels. If you're a woman, and you feel like absolute dog shit and your doctor can't figure out why, have your iron and electrolytes tested. It'll probably take about 3-4 weeks for me to see any results from the iron supplement, but I can already see a reduction in fluid retention.

In September, I have an appointment with Dr. Le at Integris in OKC. He's a bariatric surgeon. I have gained so much weight from having PCOS and Hypothyroidism that I need to drop a lot of fat fast. I'm pretty healthy - I don't have the normal problems obese people tend to have. I'm not diabetic, don't have sleep apnea, my cholesterol levels are good. I am what they call "healthy fat" which seems like an oxymoron. However, it will improve my chances of getting approved for a sleeve gastrectomy.

I turned 50 last week, and had to endure 3 decades of no one listening to me. I feel I lost so many years of my life and I can never get them back. I hope this post reaches a lot of younger women having issues. Keep looking for a doctor who will listen to you. It sucks we have to hunt for these unicorns, but they do exist. I finally have a good team who actually cares about me.

You have a right to be listened to! You have a right to be heard!

I was asked: Who are my doctors?

Dr. Daniel Brown D.O. Stillwater Physicians Clinic

Dr. Yasuto Taguchi M.D. Taguchi Women's Clinic

Dr. Wynter Kipgen M.D. Stillwater Diabetes & Endocrinology

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livesincerely · 4 years

Text

dress you up, dress you down ch. 2 - the clothes make the man

aka the Tie Fic. Chapter one here.

Also on Ao3

00000

It’s early Monday morning. Davey is working on coaxing Les into his school uniform when there’s a knock on the bedroom window.

“Jack!” Les greets, the untucked tails of his shirt flapping behind him as he rushes over to open it.

“Hey, bud,” Jack says, climbing in from the building’s fire escape with easy grace. “How’s it hangin’?”

“What are you doin’ here?”

“I’m workin’ on some cartoons for Joe today, but I hadta come pick up some stuff from Dave before I head over.”

Les’ expression brightens. “Oh, you mean your new suits and stuff?”

“Got it in one,” Jack confirms, ruffling Les’ hair. “Your brother and Kathy ganged up on me yesterday and made me buy a buncha fancy geddups. They was real serious about it—said it was important for my ‘tential growth as an employee.’”

Jack leans closer, then continues in a conspiratorial whisper, “I think it’s all a waste of dollars, but if it’s important to them I guess it’s important to me.”

“Well it’s real important to David!” Les chirps. “He brought your stuff home but he wouldn’t even let me look at it. He hung it all up in the back of our closet and told me if I touched anything he’d murder me!”

“Well, they did cost a fair chunk of change,” Jack says slowly, blinking several times in rapid succession. “And I’m pretty sure if they got ruined before I hadda chance to wear ‘em out, Kath would kill us all.”

“Go brush your teeth,” Davey tells Les. “Jack needs to get ready.”

“But I wanna see the fancy geddup,” Les whines.

“You can see it when he’s dressed,” Davey says. “Brush your teeth.”

“But—“

“Go!”

Les lets out a huff but finally does as he’s told. Davey turns to Jack.

“The garment bag’s all the way in the back on the left,” Davey informs him, waving a hand towards the closet.

He goes to follow Les out of the room to give Jack some privacy but he only gets as far as grabbing the door handle before Jack’s voice pipes up behind him with, “Wait, where are ya goin’?”

Davey’s brow furrows. “I’m letting you get dressed.”

“But you gotta get dressed too,” Jack says with a frown, gesturing at the pajamas that Davey’s still wearing. “Distribution opens in a hour.”

“Oh, well, I was gonna wait for you to finish,” Davey explains.

“Don’t be stupid,” Jack says, shaking his head. “I don’t wanna make you late. Just go ahead and change, don’t mind me.”

Davey hesitates. “If you’re sure it’s okay...”

Jack rolls his eyes. “Dave, you’ve seen the Lodging House—it ain’t exactly private quarters. If it don’t bother you it don’t bother me.”

Well, actually, it bothers Davey quite a lot, though probably not for the reasons Jack thinks. But he’s not sure how to excuse himself without seeming suspicious so he swallows down his reservations and steps more fully back into the room.

Jack unearths the garment bag and works the clasps open. Davey catches a glimpse of soft cottons and sturdy wools and feels his cheeks getting warm—just the thought of what’s to come is enough to send his heart racing. He takes a steadying breath, then throws open the trunk at the foot of his bed and starts looking through it for a clean set of clothes.

His only plan is to get changed as quickly and quietly as possible. So naturally Jack choses this moment to strike up a conversation.

“So how’d your meetin’ go?” Jack asks. Davey instinctively turns towards the sound of his voice and is treated to the long expanse of Jack’s bare back as he wriggles out of his shirt.

“...What?” Davey says. His voice sounds distant to his own ears.

“Your meetin’?” Jack repeats. He lets his shirt fall to the floor at his feet, his hands dropping down to start undoing his belt buckle. “Didn’t you and Albie have a thing last week? Down by the water?”

It takes Davey a moment to shake off his stupor. Flushed and flustered, he quickly whirls back around but it feels like the sight’s been seared into the space behind his eyes. Good god.

“Oh, right, of course,” Davey stammers out, keeping his gaze fixed carefully on the wall in front of him as he fumbles through unbuttoning his pajama top. “Yeah, it went well. Better than I thought it would, anyway. We still need to figure a few things out but we’re off to a good start.”

“And Brooklyn didn’t give you no trouble?” Jack questions. “Spottie was nice and hospitable?”

“It was fine Jack,” Davey says, and the familiar banter is working wonders on calming his frazzled nerves. “Spot and Hotshot stopped by and checked in with us, just to make sure we were being honest and keeping to the agreement and all that, but they mostly left us alone.” Davey folds up his pajamas and leaves them in a neat stack on his bed, slips on a clean pair of underwear, then steps into his selling pants and fastens them up. “Honestly, I think they were... not happy, exactly, but proud? Honored? It’s a respect thing, right?”

“Well, ya only get asked to be neutral territory if everyone else trusts ya to play fair,” Jack explains. “So, yeah, it’s a sign of respect. But Brooklyn’s always been real particular ‘bout who’s all allowed to cross the bridge, so they don’t usually do it—I still can’t believe Spot agreed to play host for ya.”

“It helps that I can get through a conversation with him without picking a fight,” Davey comments lightly as he works his arms into his shirt sleeves. “Unlike certain others I could name.”

“I still say he started it,” Jack responds, and Davey doesn’t have to look at him to know he’s pouting.

“Uh huh,” Davey says. “Sure he did.”

“Hey, now,” Jack says, grabbing at the hem of Davey’s shirt and tugging him around to face him. In the time since Davey’s last looked he’s put on his pants and suspenders, his shirt done up but only partially tucked in. He should be easier to deal with now that he’s covered up, but the disheveled, partially dressed look is somehow just as enticing as the bare skin. It’s honestly not fair. “You’re supposed to be on my side.”

“I’m always on your side,” Davey says, perhaps a little too sincerely, feeling a touch lightheaded. “But that doesn’t mean I won’t call you out. And you definitely started it last time.”

“He’s been mackin’ on Racetrack!” Jack says, and he’s adorably grumpy about it. “I can’t just let that go!”

“They’re dating, Jack,” Davey reminds him for the thousandth time. “Obviously they’re gonna be holding hands and kissing and whatever else—you might as well get used to it. And regardless,” Davey pokes Jack in the chest, a gentle scolding, “you shouldn’t be letting your personal feelings about Spot affect your dealings with Brooklyn. You’re supposed to be professional, mister Union President.”

“It’s Racetrack,” Jack insists. “It’s my god-given right to give his boyfriend,” Jack makes a face as he says the word because he’s ridiculous, “a hard time. It ain’t my fault Spottie’s got such a short fuse.”

“And that’s why you’re not allowed to handle business with Brooklyn anymore,” Davey says, and he’s trying for disapproving but he can feel the start of a smile pulling at the corner of his mouth.

“Worth it,” Jack says, utterly unapologetic. Davey just shakes his head. Jack’s bad enough now when it’s just Racer—he can only imagine how overprotective Jack’ll be if Crutchie decides he’s interested in dating too.

Davey finishes buttoning his shirt, then leans down and starts digging around in his trunk for a pair of socks and a set of suspenders.

“Hey, but back to your meetin’,” Jack starts after a moment, picking up the previous conversation where they left off. “You know who you really needta talk to? There’s a kid over in Flushing—I don’t think you’ve met him yet, name’s Paulie—but he’s got crazy connections with somma the dock workers. One time he managed ta—”

Jack stops mid word, a sudden, sharp inhale interrupted by a series of coughs.

“You alright?” Davey calls over his shoulder, still searching.

“Uh, yeah,” Jack says, an odd note in his voice. “Just, uh, swallowed wrong, but I’m fine.”

“Oh, okay,” Davey says, absently. He straightens up, then frowns when he realizes he’s grabbed a pair of Les’ socks instead of his own. He throws them aside, then bends back over his trunk, rifling even more vigorously through the assortment of clothes.

Jack mutters something under his breath, too quietly for Davey to make out the words.

“What was that?” Davey asks, finally coming up with the right items.

“Nothin’,” Jack says, head ducked low as he buttons up his vest. It’s a little hard to tell, but it looks like he’s gone a bit pink in the face. “I just⁠— it was nothin’.”

Davey watches him for a moment longer, brow furrowed. But when Jack doesn’t say anything else, he goes back to his task, pulling on his socks and carefully tucking his shirt into his pants.

“How’s that?” he asks Jack, turning slowly in place. “Did I miss any spots?”

“Lookin’ good Dave,” Jack says with a smile. “Here, hold still,” he continues, patting at Davey’s hip with one hand and picking up the end of his suspenders with the other. “I’ll fix you up.”

“Oh, thanks,” Davey says tentatively.

Jack steps in close, his knuckles brushing against the small of Davey’s back as he clips his suspenders into place. Davey swallows heavily around a suddenly dry throat, trying his hardest not to think about how he can feel Jack’s body heat like a tangible weight along his spine, how there’s the barest whisper of Jack’s breath tickling at the nape of his neck.

He hopes Jack can’t hear the hitch in his voice as he asks, “So what are you working on today?”

“Hmm? Oh, nothin’ much,” Jack says. “Just some line work, and maybe sketching out some ideas for the Friday edition.”

“Is your, uh, desk mate still stealing your drafting pencils?” Davey asks.

“He sure is, the prick,” Jack answers. “Which is so damn annoying⁠—it ain’t like they don’t give us plenty.” His hands slide up over Davey’s waist: “Turn around for me.”

Davey obediently turns. “Maybe you should call him out,” he offers.

“Maybe I should stab him in the neck with his stupid compass,” Jack says with a snort. He follows the line of Davey’s suspender straps up over his shoulders and down to the front of his pants, clipping the other pair of buckles into place. “There, you’re all set.”

“Great,” Davey says, his eyes flitting across Jack’s face. He’s very handsome. He’s very close. “Thanks.”

“No problem,” Jack says, his voice a little husky. His fingers are still curled around the straps of Davey’s suspenders. “Happy to help.”

“Right,” Davey breathes out.

“Right,” Jack echoes.

They stare at each other.

“I should, uh, grab my vest,” Davey says, clearing his throat. His pulse is pounding in his ears.

“Yeah, of course,” Jack says as he shuffles back a couple of steps, running a hand through his hair. “Of course. I’ll just⁠, I’ll finish doing… over here.”

Davey spends a long while shaking the wrinkles out of his vest, then pulls it on with clumsy limbs. He smooths his hands nervously down the front of it, then pretends to pick away a few pieces of lint, just to give himself another minute to calm his fluttering heart. Oh god, oh god, oh god.

For a brief moment there’s no noise except the rustling of fabric and the sounds of the city drifting in from the open window. Then Jack calls, his voice tinged with a hint of alarm, “Uh… Dave? Help.”

Davey glances over. Jack’s made an attempt at putting on his tie and it’s ended in absolute disaster, the collar of his shirt crumpled beneath a too tight and incredibly tangled knot.

“What on earth did you do?” Davey asks, his lingering embarrassment burnt away by sheer bafflement.

“I thought I had it handled!” Jack says. He tries to pick the knot loose, but only manages to make things worse. “Christ, these things are death traps.”

“Stop, or you’re gonna strangle yourself,” Davey says, smacking Jack’s hands out of the way. “Just let me⁠—”

Davey reaches up, undoing the mess of a knot with deft fingers, then expertly re-ties the strip of red silk into a perfect four-in-hand.

“There,” Davey says, carefully tucking the tails under Jack’s suit vest, then folding the sides of his shirt collar back down into place. “How’s that?”

“‘S good,” Jack says.

“Not too tight?” Davey checks just to be sure, noting the raspiness of Jack’s voice. He adjusts the knot one more time, then presses a neat little dimple right in the center of it. “I can do it again if it doesn’t feel right⁠—”

“No, it’s great, Dave,” Jack says lowly, and his hand closes around Davey’s own so that their hands are clasped together over Jack’s sternum. Startled, Davey’s eyes dart up to meet Jack’s and their gazes catch and linger⁠ again with that same soft, simmering intensity from earlier. “It’s perfect.”

“Good,” Davey says hoarsely⁠, held captive by Jack’s stare. He almost can’t breathe around the pressure building somewhere deep in his chest; Jack somehow feels even closer than he had before, all dark eyed and broad shouldered and just far too much for Davey to handle. “Good, that’s…” Davey swallows, licks his lips, and tries to think of something to say that isn’t absolutely asinine. “I’m glad.”

An expression flickers across Jack’s face, too quickly for Davey to identify. Then his hand curls more firmly around Davey’s, and Davey can feel the warmth of his skin, the callouses on his palms. Jack takes a breath, opens his mouth to speak⁠—

“David!” Les shouts as he bursts back into the bedroom. Davey jolts away from Jack like he’s been burned, his hands dropping back to his sides. Jack’s mouth clicks shut⁠⁠—whatever he might’ve been about to say is lost. “Davey, stop hogging Jack! You already saw the fancy geddup, I wanna see too⁠⁠—”

He skids to a sudden halt, his eyes going wide. “Wow, Jack, you look swell! Like a real, pr’fessional artist.”

“Hey, I’m already an artist,” Jack counters playfully, though there’s a hint of tightness around his mouth. “All this stuff is just window dressing, ya hear?”

“Yeah, but now you look all serious and business-y and confident,” Les stresses. “Like you actually know what you’re doing.”

Jack laughs. “That’s just the clothes talkin’, bud,” he says. “Believe me, I ain’t gotta clue what I’m doin’ most the time. ‘S what I keep Davey around for⁠, to make sure at least somebody knows what the hell is going on.”

“Well, I think you look nice,” Les declares, like that’s the final word on the matter. He looks at Davey and says, “Mama says we gotta leave soon or we’ll be late.”

“Okay, I’ll be right there,” Davey answers. Les nods, then skips away to put on his shoes and hat.

“I guess I should head on out,” Jack says, wandering towards the still-open window. “I’ll see you in a few hours⁠—”

“Jack Kelly, you are not going down the fire escape in your brand new suit,” Davey says, exasperated. “You can walk out the front door with us like a normal human being.”

“Oh, but where’s the fun in that?” Jack says with a grin, but he slides the window shut and dutifully comes back over. Once he’s close enough, Davey elbows him in the ribs. “Ow, what was that for⁠—?”

“Stop talking down on yourself,” Davey huffs. “You don’t give yourself enough credit⁠.”

“Or maybe I give myself exactly enough credit,” Jack counters.

“Oh, please,” Davey says, rolling his eyes. “I know you’ve got a functioning brain in that head of yours⁠, you don’t need me to be successful⁠—you’ll get by on your own merits.”

“My own merits, huh?” Jack says with a rueful smile. “You make it sound so easy, Dave.”

“I know it’s not easy,” Davey says. “But I also know that if you really wanted something, you’d figure out a way to get it.”

“But, see, there’s a lotta things I want,” Jack says, and he’s gone a bit quiet in his contemplation. “Probably too many things. I ain’t figured out how to get hardly any of ‘em, and especially not the most important things.”

“But you will,” Davey says. “I’m sure you will.”

Jack stares at him, and for a split-second Davey can see the raw yearning in his eyes for... whatever his latest dream is. Davey hopes he finds it, even as his heart lurches at the thought of some new, Santa Fe-esque fantasy stealing Jack away, maybe permanently this time.

“God, I hope so,” Jack breathes.

00000

Chapter three here

Tag List: @yahfancyclamwiththepurlinside

#newsies #javid #jack kelly #davey jacobs #*final cut #*the writing desk #*editor's note #the tie fic #tease series #it's all about the flustered desperate YEARNING babes

49 notes · View notes

make-a-little-mischief · 3 years

Text

***Re-posted & (lightly) edited second draft version***

JERRY & ME: A LOVE STORY

Part One: (Not) Love At First Sight (Or Sound)

Flashback to the beginning of 2021...

"HEY LAAAAYYDYYY"

What the hell?! The high pitched screeching voice pierced through my headphones rudely interrupting my tranquil escape from the day's stress. "That's obnoxious. I don't think I could ever watch that."

The "that" in reference is the film Artists and Models which at this time was playing on my sister's laptop. She and my mom watched it with great delight as I tried to ignore the sound of the over-the-top antics cutting into my own evening's viewing. My sister had recently discovered Jerry Lewis and had really connected with him and his movies. I, however, had no interest whatsoever in this guy who, from what I had overheard thus far, was not my cup of tea. I knew my sister loved him and I'm sure it would have been great if I loved him too (and on some level I think I wished I felt open to it), but to me, he just sounded annoying and a bit too much; I just knew I couldn't handle that voice for an hour 1/2 so I was decidedly steering clear and my sister was respecting my decision.

Jerry exploded into our lives from what felt like out of nowhere. Though the actual full-on explosion was a slow burn; his presence started out small with mainly just my sister dipping her toes in and watching his movies. She really is the one who brought Jerry's energy into the mix, born of her own interest and curiosity turned passion and heartfelt admiration. Of course my mom knew who he was; she was a child of the 60's, had watched all of his movies on TV, and recalls seeing the telethon donation containers when she and her family would go out shopping. My dad is also a fan and had seen many of Jerry's movies in theatres when he was young; no doubt Jerry might have even come up in conversation over the years as a recommendation for me and my sister to check him out. As for me I had always known that there was a human named Jerry Lewis who was a comedian (and that was pretty much it). So in a way he has always been here, hanging around, being a thing, but not until my sister - (I have to keep reiterating that this is all her doing; I would not have written this post if it weren't for her and I need to be insistent and persistent in my gratitude) - made a decision to watch a certain movie one day did he start to dance his way onto the scene in a big way. Speaking of which...

There was, later on, a brief moment of hope in the form of my sister sharing the big entrance scene in Cinderfella. She wanted to share it with our mom and since I happened to be present at the time, an offer was extended to me if I wanted to watch it too. I was still in anti-Jerry mode but I decided to let my guard down and see what the deal was with this scene. Maybe it would be good? The clip played and I honestly don't know how I managed to see any of it with all of the egg on my face. It was amazing. One of the best things I'd ever seen. I felt a familiar sense of creative resonance with what I was watching unfold. Maybe this Jerry Lewis guy wasn't so bad. I remember saying after, "yeah, I get it." And I did, but not enough to fully put my nose down, not yet.

The Cinderfella scene was a great gateway drug but it would still be some time before I sat and watched my first ever Jerry Lewis movie in full. At this point I felt that it was still completely my sister's special interest and I had no immediate plans to look into anything further. It's funny to me now thinking back to that time and how much I resisted the pull of Jerry, convincing myself that I would never be a fan, because now I can't imagine my life without the little devil. Which now brings me to the summer of 2021 when the love affair began...

Part Two: The Movie That Started It All

"Hey, so guess what I'm finally gonna watch."

"What?"

I turn my computer around so my sister can see my screen

I have The Nutty Professor pulled up. I knew what the reaction would be. She'd been hoping that I would watch this one.

"Ohh you're gonna love it."

"I'm actually looking forward to watching it." And I really was, much to my surprise.

She respectfully decided to give me my space to watch it (I knew how hard it would be for her to not check in on my reactions). I also knew she was afraid that I wouldn't like the movie or Jerry.

Only one way to find out...

▶️ PLAY

The opening credits sequence instantly and effectively established the atmosphere of the movie and then it seamlessly transitioned into the first scene and the beginning of the action. Fair to say, I was impressed from second one. "Huh, that was good, I really appreciated that" I thought as the movie started. I was not expecting this level of quality in a comedy from the early 60's.

Then Jerry's Professor Kelp character walked into the office of Dr. Warfield, sat on a chair, and sank to the bottom. He then got up, grabbed a thin book, placed it on the chair, and sat back down like normal. Problem solved. "WTF? What is this witchcraft??" I was doing it - I was having my typical reaction to something that I resonate with comically and it occurred to me right then within the first few minutes of the movie that I was going to like it. I also liked Jerry.

And it carried on in that vein for a while - me continuing to find things both big and small to be impressed by and with every passing second my defenses were lowering and Jerry was working his way into my heart. Then we get to the half hour mark and the transformation scene begins. This was where everything really changed not only for Professor Kelp, but for me too.

I'd heard my sister talk about how much she loved this scene and as it went on I understood why. It was an incredible example of how something extreme and huge in concept could be portrayed in a very simple, contained, grounded way. Little did I know at the time that this was something I would discover that Jerry did exceptionally well in all of his work and would become one of my go-to talking points for "why I'm a fan of Jerry Lewis".

I have to take this time to note that the transformation scene in The Nutty Professor proves to me that Jerry would have and could have made a fantastic horror film. That shit was distressing. It still gets to me every time I watch it. Also, let us have a moment of deep appreciation for the color symbolism working on two levels: blue to pink to white visually representing someone slowly asphyxiating and making you wonder if Kelp has really f***ed up and is actually going to die (great visual tension builder); then, as pointed out by my super observant and insightful mom, the blue/pink/white revealed as symbolic of Buddy Love's first ensemble who we meet in the upcoming reveal scene as the actual payoff and tension release of the entire sequence. It's both a red herring AND a foreshadow. It's perfect. It's brilliant. It's Jerry being a f***ing genius. But I digress...

We're now leading up to "the big reveal". I already knew the storyline from seeing the Eddie Murphy remake over the years growing up so I knew the basic premise about the geeky, lonely Professor turning into suave playboy Buddy Love. I just had no idea what I was in for visually speaking and boy let me tell you when the camera zoomed in on Jerry as Buddy standing on the top step in The Purple Pit, my stomach nearly dropped out of my butt. I'm kind of not joking, it was jaw dropping to me (and I'd never had that kind of reaction to anything to that point).

Put it in context: of this guy "Jerry Lewis" whom I knew nothing about, I had only heard his squeaky "kid" voice and had seen the clip from Cinderfella in which he didn't quite look like himself at all from where I was watching it. I had no actual real previous exposure to the actual real Jerry Lewis; what he looked like or what he sounded like. None. Zippo. Nadda. So when I saw him as Buddy you can imagine I was floored. I sat there, eyes and mouth agape thinking to myself, "THAT'S Jerry Lewis???!" Now I know Jerry as Buddy still isn't EXACTLY him, but it's pretty darn close. He was VERY handsome, not at all like I'd expected, and THAT VOICE??? It was so...deep and velvety....not at all anything like I'd overhear in Artists and Models. Who the hell was this man?! I was in such a state of shock I almost had to pause the movie.

I'd never experienced anything like watching that reveal happen. The shock of it was compounded of course by the PERFECTLY crafted and paced transformation and lead-up sequences that preceded it. I could write an entire essay about how all three of those scenes combined make up some of the best and most effectively done 5 (+) minutes in cinema history. But getting back to the point, I realized how lucky I was that because of my lack of exposure and due to my own avoidance of Jerry, I got to experience that reveal in an extremely satisfying and truly startling way. It's something that I'm glad to this day to be able to say was not spoiled for me and it also goes to show how chameleonesque Jerry is with his appearance because I couldn't get a read on him at all based on Professor Kelp (and certainly not from his "kid" voice or the "older man" look in Cinderfella which I also saw at a distance). It was the profound satisfaction of watching something that did exactly what it was supposed to and I felt everything exactly as I was supposed to feel it. That doesn't happen all the time.

⏩ FAST FORWARD

The movie was over (ovur) and for all intents and purposes, so was I. A new phase had begun: this was now "life with Jerry Lewis". The feeling of resistance and shutting out that I had been keeping up was fading away and I was happy to let it go. I had done it; I had watched my first ever full length Jerry Lewis movie and I could now honestly say in the entirety of its meaning, 'I get it'.

My sister came back in the room, we talked, she was overjoyed, and so was I. And we haven't stopped talking or sharing in the joy ever since.

Part Three: Life With Jerry

It's only been a few months since I started my journey with Jerry but it's been quite a ride. I feel like he's always been here, like a friend that you haven't seen or heard from in a long time but when you reconnect everything just falls into place. The dynamics have even changed drastically in that I now have seen more of Jerry and read more about him than my sister. I'm becoming quite the Jerry encyclopedia and super fan (try telling that to me from the start of the year!).

And yes, I now delight in saying "LADY!" and all other manner of Jerry quotes and quips. A day hardly goes by without some reference or another. Between me, my mom, and my sister, Jerry gets lots of attention and love. I make it sound like he's our pet, but what I mean is that between he and we there is that same unconditional amorous bond that you would have with any loved one.

There has been a definite positive shift that all three of us feel...life has been much happier and lighter because of Jerry. His energy, to me, is that of love and confidence and support; he's a friend and he's family, and he has brought me and my family even closer together. Every day is Jerry day for my mom, my sister and me. We share in so many laughs, so much impassioned discussion and admiration about this perfectly imperfect man who left such a legacy on the planet and is continuing to work his magic on us from "the other side". He has been a stabilizing force (of nature) and a reason to feel good and hopeful for the first time in years. He's a guide, a mentor, a muse. He's always there; he just doesn't quit, he's still a workaholic from wherever he is now lemme tell you...

I don't really know why I was so resistant to Jerry for so long. Maybe it was because I pre-judged him based on something out of context and superficial? (I did, and I've learned that's what a lot of people do with Jerry, and then don't bother to wonder if there's more to the story - that's a rant for another day). Maybe it was because I didn't want to be a fan of something that my sister was such a huge fan of? (Probably true and I can admit how childish and limiting that is, especially when I've worked to get her to be a fan of things I love so much in the past - don't be selfish or have a stick up your butt when it comes to your siblings or anyone else, be open to new things because you never know). Or maybe it was just a "right timing" thing and I needed to open up to Jerry when I was ready. (That's pretty much what happened).

And now bringing it all up to current speed what's happening is, well, I'm sitting here typing this post unsure of how to end it. I've started typing and then retyped this final bit several times and nothing has felt right. I guess on some level that's my subconscious coming through because it senses the key words "Jerry" and "ending" and it's fighting back, because when it comes to Jerry, I never want there to be an ending. I want to be lying on my deathbed, reflecting on my life and all of the wonderful mischief I got into and I want Jerry there with me on my TV or computer screen or as my personal Back To The Future style hologram sitting and laughing with me at one of his own movies.

Now that I mention it, can we do that last one? Because honestly what better way to bookend this adventure than this scene: me sitting and watching something with my fancy futuristic headphones, enter Jerry the hologram who has appeared quite later than his daily pre-programmed time today due to a glitch (technology, what can you do even in the future), I'm not paying attention (because i'm on my deathbed so i'm trynna zone out ya know) but Jerry's voice - THAT VOICE of his - pierced through once again only this time it's for real(ish) and he's all "hey sweetheart! don't worry, i'm here! don't die on me we still got a lotta work to do this ain't over yet..."

"You mean o-v-u-r?"

"Well how else do you spell it you silly? What are we watchin today?"

"Well I was thinking about Artists and Models...it's still one of my favorites you know"

"Ah how things have changed..."

"Not really"

"What do you mean?"

"Well I was sitting here waiting for you and I know, you told me if this ever happened to just start watching without you, and I was going to, but then I thought to myself, 'I don't think I could ever watch this' only now I mean it different"

"Different how?"

"Well, I don't think I could ever watch it, without you. That's how it's been this whole time hasn't it? Since I fell for you, remember? Me not without you - together both and all that?"

"Ohhh" *makes a goofy bashful Jerry face*

"That's real cute. Now put the movie on dummy I am still dying."

#jerry lewis #my jerry origin story #i love this man #never ending love story #wouldn't have happened without my sister #listen to your siblings #every day is jerry day #jerry is our buby

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ckret2 · 4 years

Text

Gigan Invades Earth

I got a request on ko-fi for “something Gigan-Ghidorah,” and I don’t have any freestanding Gigan/Ghidorah fic plans right now, all my current plans are from farther forward in the chronology of the fics I’m currently writing.

So I was like, okay, I’ll just write a few scenes from, uh... like, sixteen fics ahead of where I am right now.

So here’s a few scenes from way ahead of where we currently are! I haven’t edited it because this fic ain’t done and ain’t gonna be for a long time, but enjoy the preview.

###

First contact was made on a Monday at exactly ten in the morning, local Central Zone time—as convenient a time as any for first contact to happen: late enough in the morning that just about everyone was up and about but early enough to ensure the arrival would dominate all but the early morning news broadcasts; and at the start of the work week so that all of the white-collar governmental sorts who were going to have to deal with this were rested from the weekend.

He'd planned it that way.

One moment, the sky above Constitution Plaza in Mexico City was clear; the next moment, a smooth object hurdled down from the sky so fast that passersby didn't even have time to send out panicked messages about their impending doom before it stopped, hovering, seeming to glower down on the National Palace. A thunderclap followed in the wake of its sudden stop, traveling out as a deep rumble across the city.

It sat there, a dark grey and black mass of machinery thrumming in the air, for exactly five minutes: long enough to attract the attention of damn near half the continent but not long enough for the panicking politicians inside the National Palace to start rallying the troops. Then a deep, slightly synthesized-sounding voice boomed out of the ship. It was clearly audible for blocks around in every direction:

"Buenos días. Vengo en son de paz. Llévame hasta tu líder."

Good morning. I come in peace. Take me to your leader.

Astute observers noted two things about the new arrival:

It had a sense of humor.

And it had done its research.

###

"On behalf of Monarch," Serizawa said, his Spanish stilted and slow over the video call, "I am honored that you have invited us to witness this historic occasion. But I don't understand what place Monarch has in a moment of... of interstellar diplomacy."

The video conference was cut into four windows: Serizawa Ishiro, who'd pulled on a button-up shirt for the call but who beneath the frame of the camera was sitting up in bed, still on bed rest from his near-death experience during the Titans' mass awakening; Xochitl Flores Rosales, scientist at Outpost 56-B monitoring Rodan and Ghidorah, and Monarch's official liaison to the Mexican government; a representative of the Mexican government, a stern-looking middle-aged woman with deep frown lines creasing her brown face, someone whom Monarch had never worked with before but who had been available to get on the line with them; and a live feed of the interview being conducted between the flustered Mexican president and the alien.

The alien took up most of Constitution Plaza; even sitting, it towered over the four-story National Palace, and every other nearby building. Footage taken of it standing when it had descended from its ship put it at fully a third taller than Godzilla. It was recognizably bipedal, seemed vaguely avian or reptilian, and called to mind comparisons to penguins, turtles, chicken, and lizards. Fully half of its body was covered in metallic-looking prosthetics or armor—unless that was how its body naturally looked? It was far too soon to know. They didn't even know what planet it came from.

"Unless you called us because of the size of our visitor?" Serizawa ventured. In the fourth screen, muted, cameras set atop the National Palace craned back to look at the alien's head. Its face was shaded beneath the spacecraft the loomed over several city blocks; only the glow of the red goggles-like visor that seemed to serve as its eyes helped illuminate its face. "Despite its scale, I don't think it's wise to count it as a titan."

"But it's already counted itself as a titan," the government representative said.

While Serizawa raised his eyebrows in surprise, Xochitl hurried to pull up a video clip—she'd been in the call longer than Serizawa and had watched more of the interview. "Here," she said. "One of the first questions he answered."

The president's voice was tinny and small as he asked through speakers, "What is your name?"

"Nothing you can pronounce," the alien said, then launched into what was clearly a prepared comment: "But the largest citizens of your planet—you call them 'titan' because they're titanic? I have the most in common with them, and since I'm gigantic—call me Gigan." His metal beak seemed to curve into a smirk.

Serizawa watched silently, hand over his mouth in concentration. Somewhat abashed, he said, "Gigan speaks better Spanish than me."

Xochitl laughed weakly. The government rep barely managed to crack a smile.

"And called the titans citizens of our planet," Serizawa went on. "Not animals, or residents—citizens. As fluent as Gigan is, I doubt it's a mistranslation."

"Maybe it misunderstands their status on Earth," the government rep said.

Serizawa said, "Or maybe Gigan is trying to tell us that we misunderstand their status."

The clip continued as Gigan answered another question: "I don't have a gender. I don't reproduce like species on your planet do. But most of you humans respect men more, don't you? So you can refer to me with male grammar."

Serizawa nodded slowly. "Yes, I think he understands how things work on Earth just fine."

Xochitl laughed harder.

"So that's why we thought Monarch should be involved," the government rep said.

"I understand now. We'll offer whatever assistance we can." Serizawa nodded at the clip. "Should we return to the live interview?"

"In a moment," the government rep said. "To get a full understanding of the situation, you should know why Gigan says he's come to Earth."

Serizawa nodded and focused on the clip again.

The president was asking, "Why have you come to Earth? Diplomacy? To trade resources?"

Gigan said, "I want to purchase some real estate."

###

He was in the market for a few acres near the gulf coast of Mexico—"just enough space for me to put my ship down and stretch my legs," he said.

He didn't represent any worlds or governments. He wasn't setting up an embassy. To his knowledge, no one else would be following after him. It was just him, a lone traveler in a lonely part of the galaxy. Most of the major population centers, he said, were way to heck and gone on the other side of the galaxy—and then he moved the conversation onward without elaborating on these alien civilizations.

He wanted to get his land the legal way—the human way. With currency. He reassured them that he understood currency, money, markets, capitalism, yes, all that—they all existed other places, with minor variations. He dealt in money most of the time. He had a job. He said he was an interstellar freelance mediator. When two parties had a conflict, one hired him to resolve the dispute.

He didn't intend to sell the fabulous secrets to interstellar space travel. He had a ballpark idea of how much that info was worth to humans, and he didn't need near that much to buy a few acres. He offered raw materials: enormous hunks of raw iron and gold. He'd harvested a few asteroids on the way into Earth. Effortless for him, impossible for humans.

Yes, he could accept money from the deal. He had a bank account. Or PayPal or Venmo, if they preferred. He also had accounts on YouTube, Twitter, Reddit, and Weibo. When he gave his usernames, the accounts were immediately flooded with thousands of new followers. He mostly lurked, retweeted titan pictures from Monarch, trolled flat earthers by informing them he was an alien currently orbiting Earth, and three weeks ago got in a heated debate on a M*A*S*H subreddit. He started responding to messages from new followers while still speaking with the Mexican president with no outward change in his demeanor or visible Internet connection.

By early afternoon, they had agreed—in concept—to Gigan's proposed sale of metals and purchase of land; in three days they would meet again to give Gigan a list of potential properties for him to choose from.

"And on behalf of the people of Mexico and the entire human race," said the president, reading off a statement that a speechwriter had prepared for him two hours earlier, "I would like to thank you for this peaceful and mutually fruitful first contact—"

"'First contact'?" Gigan cut in.

The president stammered to a stop. After a moment, he said, "Yes, that's... that's our phrase for our first meeting with intelligent alien life."

"I know what it means," Gigan said. "But I'm not your first contact. Some of my friends are already here."

Flabbergasted, the president asked, "Are—are they? Where?"

"I'm sure you've already heard of them," Gigan said. "We're former coworkers. What is it you've been calling them—Ghidrah, Gidora?"

as he asked the question.

And suddenly the entire meeting looked different.

There was something sadistically delighted in Gigan's glowing visor as he basked in the humans' stunned silence. "Speaking of, I meant to visit them before I headed back to orbit," he said. "Do you know if they're at home?"

###

It had been eons since Gigan had last seen the triple threat.

Eons since he'd grabbed himself a space ship and taken off across the galaxy to attempt to track them down.

Eons spent combing back and forth over the same five hundred cubic light-years where their trail went cold, trying to figure out where they'd vanished to—if they'd left that patch of space, or if they were still drifting through space in the heart of an unfallen meteor, or if they had died on some lonely planet...

Until now. Until he'd found traces of their signature in this little solar system. Until he'd found the one populated planet, jacked into the primitive locals' communication system, and found it riddled with pictures and recordings of the trio.

It had been so long since Gigan had seen them, the material of the only physical photo he had of them had long since corroded and crumbled. He'd digitized, reprinted, redigitized, and re-reprinted the image dozens of times, maybe hundreds. He was afraid his own electronic memories of them might have also decayed over time, byte-sized glitches switching 1s for 0s and 0s for 1s until the memories distorted, the images changed, and he forgot what they looked like.

But when he saw them through the humans' news feeds, they looked exactly how he remembered. Even compressed through humans' primitive sound recording processes, they sounded the same.

It had been eons—and now he'd be face to face with them in just a few minutes. He'd left his ship in orbit and was flying down to the island they'd been hanging out on under his own power.

And now he couldn't put off asking himself the question he'd been trying to avoid for millennia:

What if they didn't want to see him?

They were the ones who'd run off, after all—and he'd never found out why. Maybe they hated the sight of him. Maybe they would to try to kill him. Maybe by now they'd completely forgotten about him.

He could see a glint of gold on the island below. Sparks sizzled through his system.

No time left for doubt. He waited until he was low enough to be within hearing range, and bellowed at top volume, "Hey! You worthless, spineless, heartless featherweight! What's the big idea, bailing on me like that?!"

They started, shifting from reclining on top of their folded-up wings to crouched anxiously, long necks whipping around to search for the unexpected noise. It was Lefty who looked up first and spotted Gigan; and faster than Gigan could react, they were launching straight up to meet him in midair.

He'd definitely forgotten how fast they could take off. "Whoa, wait—"

they crashed into him, getting him in the gut with a double head butt; and then tried to grapple him with their claws while he was stunned. He barely managed to weave out of their way.

"You damn loser!" One jaw snapped at him, and another demanded, "Did you come all this way to ride on our coattails some more?!" Lightning crackled over their wings with every flap, the sky quickly clouding over.

"You wish! How's business been without me to handle finances for you, huh?"

They butted a forehead violently against his, static crackling back and forth over their skin. The rattling of their tails was nearly lost in a crackle of thunder.

They were happy to see him.

#godzilla #fanfic #my writing #(not stuffing this in all the usual tags since I haven't finished this yet)#(but if I don't stick this in ONE tag I'm not gonna find this later)#(if you try to read this and you don't know what's going on... it's because there's like 75 fics of context you haven't read)#(including 15 I haven't written yet)

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seb-owns-these-tatas · 4 years

Text

The Shrill (1/?) (Sci-fi)

Characters: Henry Cavill x small! innocent female reader (AU)

Summary: Something was haunting the whole world. A trial to test everybody's will power to live that an unspecified sound could make humanity turn into a death zone with four factors to describe them once they've feel the attacks. You've thought everyone was considered safe in the black mansion you were living in because nobody has reacted to the Shrill for a long time. Until now...

Warnings: Murder. Blood. Angst. Choking. (Not in a sexual way, bb's. *wink wink nudge nudge* The sexual part will be on the next) Aggressive Henry but also sweet.

Words: 2,500+

A/N: This kept me up all night. It's all in my head and I tried to sleep it off until it reached to a smut and I was like..Ooooh. OOOOooooOOOH. I NEED TO WRITE IT OUT! Hehehe. Here you have it! 💕💕 You'll have your mad Cavill smut on part 2! Btw, I’ve written a body type, If it isn’t your body type then feel free to imagine yours instead. I couldn’t put “*your body type*” because I didn’t like the look of it in the overall imagine. Also, a certain scene was inspired by Divergent! Thank you!

REBLOG, COMMENT OR GIVE IT A LIKE, IF YOU’RE LIKING THIS SHORT SERIES! THANK YOU! TAGLIST IS OPENED IF YA WANNA BE TAGGED BY THE SMUT PART--I MEAN NEXT PART. OKAY? 😍😘

Taglist: @vikingsbifrost @sofiebstar

Disclaimer: PNG's used in edits are not mine even the GIF's too. However, the edits and oneshots/fics are definitely from moi.

MY WORKS ARE NOT TO BE POSTED ON ANY OTHER WEBSITES. My official username in Wattpad is “TATATHEPOTATO” and that’s the only other site I have aside from Tumblr. Thank you, Tater tots!

Fifteen different people in one huge mansion. A black mansion to be specific. The world has created and experienced chaos and madness as the entirety of humanity was now suffering from a wide unearthly signal that could get certain people to act berserk.

Nobody knew why. Nobody understands the reason and where does it come from, but the people who were living in the huge Mediterranean mansion that you were in were completely free from the violent reactions that may cause.

With violent reactions that can be considered brutal for a kill.

Everyone was laughing in joy, some even had alcohol wrapped around their fingers as they try to blur out all what was happening around the world.

You and Henry were sure that everyone was safe; until one person who had reacted on the sound.

There it was. That certain sound; a high pitched signal. Everyone looked at each other, sensing who were reacting towards the shrill. The effects were truly indistinguishable, you wouldn't know who and what will hit them when the signal can be heard. But, there were contingencies you've felt and heard while everyone was quarantined in the mansion.

There were four factors as to how you would react towards the sound. You've witnessed the most horrifying reaction which was Brute. Your own father has managed to terminate every single one of your family except for you. He was also included in the brutal murder as he aimed the gun to his head. You didn't know if it was intentional or not but he neglected you from the massacre and you didn't know if it was a good thing or a bad thing.

You've had hypothetical presentiments as to why they've reacted that way. Facts which are considered sixty-five percent accurate based on how you've been observing everyone's actions. The reason why they've began to violently react to the signal was because they never had committed any wicked sin and actually had a good heart.

Second was altruism. Some people have reacted towards the signal with goodwill and compassion. However, those people were thoroughly godawful in their lives. Committing such abysmal sins which can be considered unlawful to the law and especially to the eyes of God. They suddenly become all incorruptible and law-abiding after the shrill that they don't remember what happened nor do they remember who they were and have been.

Third was The Hushed. Humanity has given these people lemons and not bread. These people were the ill-tormented. They were given the affliction of never having to get to speak what their heart says no matter what happens. All their lives they have lived in agony and now they were receiving such curse into not having to talk nor having the fate on reacting towards their environment. They were completely the epitome of a coma. Their souls and mind were still living on earth but they were forbidden to move nor react towards their environment.

Last, but not the least as your current observations weren't fully factful; was the Unbalanced. They were the combination of every factors that has been said. They all have their days, it's either you react with brute, altruism or become the Hushed in every other day. They were the unstable ones, the people who you couldn't read when they are attacked by the shrill. To know that they are considered the Unbalance start from acting like a demented person until they were acting normal one day then not on some.

The one that you couldn't get the bottom of is why specific people weren't being attacked by the chime and you couldn't comprehend why you haven't been passively reacting towards the problem at hand and nobody could answer that question for you.

Thus, this ill-fated moment was the most terrifying memory you can ever decipher as the love of your life have caused you a busted lip and a frightening gun in between your forehead.

"Listen to me and I hope you take this into consideration, Nugget." Henry skeptically started; voice all calm and soothing, standing completely tall and jacked before you. Your height differences thoroughly sweeping to the eyes of everyone maybe even cute to some as you stood five foot one before him with big bones; wide hips and small chest. Technically, a bottom hourglass with those stomach flab hidden behind the hoodie of your boyfriend that reached your thighs. An imperfect interpretation of how humanly you were, unlike your love who seemed to be utter perfection.

The latter crossed his burly arms across his prominent chest, combing a hand through his curly locks and sighing deeply to himself like he was trying to understand what his thoughts has been telling him, he licked his lips before peering down at you, giving you that worried gaze he would give whenever his thoughts get the best of him.

You gave him a reassuring smile after he pulled you away from the group of people who were bonding all together. At first, you were questioning why he'd held your wrist, pulling you away from them. But, now you understood his actions.

Despite of sounding confident all the time, today the walls began to break as you've seen your powerful looking man so scared for what he could do to the people around him if he was attacked by the Shrill.

He'd languidly taken the gun latched in between his belt. A frown etched upon his features as his stubble was growing longer. Henry checked the black pistol in his hand, clicking the chambers open to see how many rounds it could take before shutting the clip back and handling the grip to you with a small, glum smile.

You've stared back at him with incredulity. The gun on your palm without knowing what to do with it. Your lower lips wanting to pop out because of what the message actually sounded like. A shake of your head was the only reply you could muster as you felt your heart being grabbed by a claw at a rickety future that was bound to happen because nobody knows how this trial would take.

"If...If I somehow react to it and be a part of the Brute," he trailed off, stepping closer to you and reaching out for the side of your jaw; his rough, calloused fingers dancing across the nape of your neck as he subtly gave a smooth caress. Beautiful ocean blue eyes with tiny specks of brown on his left eye, gazing down at you with a look you've seen since the moment you've manage to develop feelings with each other when the nightmare happened; utter love and respect, "---and if you must shoot me before I cause chaos to everyone, do it. Understand?"

Another shallow shake of your head, repeatedly doing so with a begrudging heart, "Henry," you pleaded, not wanting to do it as the action will fall on your hands. The responsibility of shooting him would be your nightmare forever. "N-No, I--I don't even know how to shoot a gun. I--I won't ever forgive myself if that ever happens. Ask me anything, but that!" the tremble of your voice was evident. You shook your head once more, objecting at his wishes and never submitting.

"Panic will consume you and once it does, you're surprised you've already shot me to death, Y/N." Henry tried to lighten the mood as he managed to get out a toothy grin. Though, you knew his heart was shaking at the painful truth he could decipher, "I'd rather accept that you shoot me. I'd rather see your face before I die,"

You could feel your eyebrows in a tight knot, your heart beat ceasing at the responsibility on your hands. The soft cookie in you coming out with tears forming around your eyes. Henry stared you down with a tender beam, entirely leaning down to plant a kiss on the side of your eyes to stop you from weeping out.

"Love can be a bloody brute, and I mean that literally, Nugget." the latter whispered, finally pecking your temples before the ones in between your eyebrows.

You've felt his warm breath that you wished not for it to turn cold. He was the only who you could depend. The shoulder whom you cry on and a person who you've loved to the fullest and killing him won't ever be the best idea for you.

Once the soft pillows of his lips left your forehead, he had lean his forehead with yours. Eyes fluttering closed as he took in everything. Your warmth, scent and soul like he wouldn't get to reach for them ever again. "Don't hesitate, okay? Just shoot."

The shiny metal barrel was now aimed between your head. A bloody lip and a wound on the end of your eyebrow have been given to you by your own boyfriend as he'd reacted very different with you. From the moment he was tightly closing his eyes as the shrill went on and on. You knew he was next.

At that, you've managed to speak your heart and tried getting his attention before he could even hurt the people around you who eventually became your friends.

You've rather let him hurt you than see him hurt others or even himself.

The mere image of you being violently hurt by a huge, brawny man wasn't completely pleasing to the eye. Everybody were scattered in the large living room where tables and chairs were ruined with troubled gazes in their eyes. They were stuck to their feet as they watched the scene unfold.

Irith, a police woman who lived in the same mansion as you do; snatched her gun out of her holster, quickly aiming the firearm at Henry who'd grabbed onto you, tackling you down the floor and in between you with his hand gripping your neck in a choke hold. The gun he'd given was taken away from you; maybe because you've technically given him the opportunity to do so and it was now in his palms.

"He's going to kill you, Y/N! You’re gonna die!"

Irith clicked the safety off her pistol and you've heard it. Your boyfriend's fingers wrapped around your neck as tight as he could with an apathetic gaze like your Henry wasn't even there at all. "No-No-No! He’s not! Please! Don't do a-a-anything! Don't hurt him! Move away!"

You croaked out and pleaded with a cough; forcibly clawing out to get his fingers away from you. To no avail, Henry was very much stronger than you and getting out of his hold was like asking the heavens to show you the pot of gold on the end of the rainbow.

"H-Henry," another croak before he tightened his hold around your neck. The air seeming to be cut off better than before. You've stared into his eyes, trying to find him in there but all you could see was a person whom you didn't know. A complete utter murderer who just wanted you dead.

You've stopped struggling against his hold, tasting the blood in your mouth as he breathed deep above you, his thick thighs on either side of you as he pinned you down. Irith didn't know what to do and dropped her aim. Panic settling her nerves as she watched you get choked by your boyfriend who'd been anything but violent to you before it even happened.

Your fingers left his, mind flying at the thought to fight him off. Shaky fingers reaching out to touch the side of his face which ignited a feral growl out of him once he'd felt your cold, trembling fingers. The other hand of yours nervously gripping onto the barrel, aiming it better between your forehead as Henry's face morphed into a painful wince.

You can't let him go that yet. No. Deep inside, you know he was still in there.

"Shoot...me," you whispered in between gasps and heaving breaths. The air soon cutting your lungs shut. "I-It's okay, lo-love. Y-You can shoot...shoot me,"

All the response he has ever did was a loud groan, his finger on the trigger but never flicking. He stared you down with that wavering gaze, like he has been struck by lightning. Your thumb reaching out for his lip, soothingly caressing with a firm will as you spoke out loud with a slowing heart, "It's...It's okay...I love you...Always..will,"

Something was shutting off inside him. All he could see was that you were a target he should eliminate because you were part of the humanity who tries to ruin the world because of their irresponsible actions. Yet, your voice. It was echoing inside his head, like a soothing one which could calm that certain switch and the nerves sending inside his brain for the kill.

The veins on the side of his head were popping out and you could see him struggling with something. His lips shaking as you felt it on your thumb. He tightly shut his eyes closed, hardly breathing out of his nose as he was whimpering like something was hurting him.

It was. His head was hurting because he was fighting it off.

You've caught his attention again, slowly caressing your fingers across the apples of his cheeks like a touch to reassure him to just do it and end his pain instead. You stared into his tightly shut eyes and gave a solemn smile, "Y-You're...the best I've ever had...D-Don't...worry, I-It's okay,"

Your pleading was like an ambulance being sent to rescue him. He snapped his head away from you, breath completely labored as he was wrestling with those small voices whispering inside his head; telling him to just pull the trigger and end his misery. But, the other echo screaming at him that pulling the trigger will just add more misery and probably even guilt and utter madness for himself.

"F-Fuck!" He lividly cussed out loud. Snapping his eyes open and you've seen the most grief-stricken picture. His eyes rheumy and dewy like he was on the verge of crying.

Then, you've heard the safety click back. His fingers shaking a lot more as he does so before falling on the floor, rolling away from you with a maddened groan.

He was in luck and also for you because you were close to having your breath taken away from you before he even managed to stop himself. You breathed in deep, like you were trying to catch your breath again and mewling at how free it was to feel your air back in your lungs.

Yet, you were about to reach out for him in the midst that you were still in a haze from being choked out. You've blinked your eyes open to see him scurrying away, feeling as if your heart was ceasing again. He stood on his feet, avoiding the terrified looks on everybody's faces. Though, the most painful part of everything that happened was not his aggressive action towards you. But, from how he bypassed your hold on his hand and thoroughly shunned away like you were disgusting.

Hence, you knew he was mad at himself and probably for you because you let it happen. The guilt beginning to eat him alive just before you even knew it.

MARSHALL LOOKS SO SO CUDDLY. I WANT PAPA BEAR TO JUST HUG ME ALL NIGHT. 😪😣😍😍

79 notes · View notes

urlocalkpoptrash · 5 years

Text

Bet| Jaebeom.

Switch!Jaebeom x Reader.

Genre: SMUT.

Warnings: Dirty talk, masturbation (both male and female) a hint exhibitionism, EXTREME EDGING, orgasm denial, switch/sub Jaebeom, cream pie, unprotected sex.

Summary: When you and Jae make a bet, he has to deal with the consequences.

A/N: First of all, this was edited by my twinnie @listlessmaenads. This has been in my head for literally days since me and her talked about. It’s finally out. 🤘🏻 — —

JYP laughed loudly, causing the rest of the table to react in the same fashion. Jaebeom gritted his teeth, choking back an agonizing groan. He tried to shift in his seat, hoping this action would ease the tension that strained in his pants. He couldn’t believe he was in this situation - all because of a stupid bet.

You jumped around jaebeom, singing a song of selfish victory. “I won, you lose, la la la la.” He watched as you rounded his body for the third time. His arms were crossed, a tight lipped pout pursing his lips. He was certain he was going to beat you, and now his ego and his eyes were on the floor.

“I told you not to make a bet with me,” you touched his arm, fingers wrapping around his bicep.

“When does it start?” A rumbled response rattled out of his chest.

You were silent for a moment, deciding whether or not to make him truly suffer. It didn’t take long for you to make the choice, “Now.”

His jaw tightened, flexing the vein in his neck. “What are the specific rules?” He glanced over at you, your too smug smile made him hate this all that much more.

“You can’t touch me, no matter what I do. You can’t grab my wrist, stop my hands, lips, legs - nothing. You also can’t touch yourself, or else this starts all over again.”

“Can I touch you... affectionately?” His voice immediately softened.

If there was one thing that Jae hated to be deprived of, that was you. It was the absentminded kisses at the top of your head, the gentle squeeze of his hand, just to remind himself that you were there. Deprive him of you, was like depriving the world from the sun.

“No.”

Ice cold, calculated. This was a meticulous plan, it had to be his absolute, the undoing of Lim Jaebeom and you were going to be the cause of that.

You started off slowly, easing him into the ultimate torture. It started with text insinuating of your desires, most the time he’d brush them off and change the subject. He wasn’t going to allow you to crack him so easily. He spent years with just him and his hand, it was going to take more than some saucy texts to rile him up. Which meant that you had the step up your game, his unwillingness to let you under his skin only pushed you further into your carnal state of mind.

Punk

3:30PM

What time are you going to be home, Squish?

Squishy

3:33PM

It’s going to be a late night, baby. I’m so sorry.

Squishy

4:01PM

Babe?

Squishy

4:20PM

Are you mad at me baby?

Punk

4:32PM

I’m sorry it took me so long to reply. I got a little preoccupied.

Squishy

4:33PM

It’s alright, beautiful. Is everything okay?

Punk

4:35PM

Absolutely, babe. I just... it’s nothing.

Squishy

4:35PM

What is it baby? You can always talk to me.

Squishy

4:36PM

Sweetie?

And just like clock work your phone began to ring. You had already started, and you wanted him to catch you right in the middle.

“Jae,” an airy moan, brushing your tongue across the roof of your mouth - you were coming for blood.

You swore you could hear him hard swallow, “Hey baby. Is everything okay? Are you okay?” He was barely able to force words between pursed lips.

“I-I know you’re, ah,” you couldn’t help yourself, setting the volume a dial higher, you had to push yourself to make him bend to your sexual whims.

“Y/N,” this time it wasn’t soft, it wasn’t weak. It was the way he spoke to you when you were trying to escape the overwhelming pleasure he was able to rock through you.

“Please tell me you’re alone,” your fingers halted their manic search for pleasure against your bundle of nerves. You wanted to be absolutely certain he was away from the boys.

“I snuck into the bathroom to call you,” and once he pointed that out, you could hear his voice echo off the tiles of the prison you were about to capture him in.

“Good,” You panted, beginning to double your efforts, “I was just thinking about the other night in the kitchen,” you knew you could have left it at that, he was already painting the lucid picture in his mind. That wouldn’t be any fun though.

“Do you remember, Jae?” As if he could have forgotten, there was still take out in his hair, no matter how much he tried to get it out, a constant reminder of just the moment you were talking about.

“Yes,” clipped, short and best of all, tormented.

You could hear the sound of a stall being closed, he was settling in for the ride that you were about to subject him to, maybe he was a bit of a masochist himself. He knew well of your intentions and decided to strap himself in.

“I don’t remember the last time I came so hard. You were so... animalistic,” the best word for the way he treated your body.

“I couldn’t help it,” he sighed, head falling forward, as he instinctively curled his toes in his shoes.

“Why not?” The pretty green vibrator pulsed violently between your quivering walls.

“God baby,” he couldn’t even begin to verbalize what you did to him, the way your body called to him like a lighthouse called to a lost sailor.

“Tell me baby, I need it,” you weren’t too proud to beg for him.

“You just look so good underneath me. The way I disappear in you, soaking into your core. The way you say my name, say my name, fuck please.” He reached over to the rail beside him, gripping so tightly his knuckles appeared white.

“Jaebeom,” you cried, pulsing the purring toy quicker, your heels digging into the bed, struggling to restrain yourself anymore.

“Louder,” he demanded, his feet planting firmly on the floor. This was going to be the downfall of him. He was throbbing wildly, he couldn’t actually think of a time that he had been this hard. The outline of his dick looked like a 3D painting coming to life, pressing angrily against his black jeans.

“Jaebeom!” It didn’t even sound like your voice, you didn’t know who this was, but she was rubbing the nub between your slit, vibrator jerking in and out of you. The fire in your stomach was the last warning, “I’m cumming! Yes, Jae!”

Every muscle in his body contracted, it felt like the pain of ten thousand needles poking at his skin, but he couldn’t think anything other than the delicious sound that ripped through the heavy air, leaving a tear in his resolute.

You two were now on day three of this hell, and he was fully feeling the effects of it. He hadn’t had a moment of being completely soft in the 72 hours.

So here you are, at a rather large work function for Jae. All the members, plus staff filled the table. The perfect time to see just how desperate he was willing to be.

“So Jaebeom,” JYP spoke loud enough to command all the eyes in the room, “How’s writing going? Any new songs in the upcoming weeks?”

The chairs beneath everyone creaked as they shifted to focus their attention on him. You could see the perspiration started to build around his hairline. JYP raised a brow, waiting for an answer, one that he had responded to many times, but this was a much different situation.

“He’s just trying to recall where he is in his mixing,” you spoke up for him, your fingers lackadaisically traveled along the seam of his pants. You were in no hurry to send him into a erotic frenzy, you wanted this to burn slow, turning his unyielding discipline into nothing but ash.

He nodded, frantically, smoothing his clammy palm over his pants, making sure not to even brush so much as a nail over your skin. “I-uh, I’m really close-“ you watched as his brain short circuited from the way your fingers grazed over the head of his erection. It was almost as if this head controlled the one on his shoulders. You spread your fingers over his denim covered shaft, “I’m so fucking close,” he gripped the edge of the table, his fork vibrating on his plate from the sheer force of his grip.

“So close to getting it finished,” you leaned over to press a kiss onto his heated cheek, your lips barely moving as you whispered into his ear.

“You need to stay focused, babe, or I’m going to have to stop.”

“No,” he whispered back, loudly.

He couldn’t handle another hour of being without your touch, even if it meant he had to endure this divine misery. You settled back into your seat, reaching for your wine. You knew people were staring at his unusual outburst, but what you did under this table was no concern to anyone but you and the man you had under your spell.

“I probably have two more weeks, and I will be finished with track one and five,” he explained, giving enough of a show to satisfy the prying eyes that were glued to him.

“Wonderful. You’ll have to play me what you have a little later,” JYP grinned, glancing at the kitchen doors as the serves came out with dinner.

Jae almost visibly relaxed when everyone turned their regards to the food that was being passed out. He smiled kindly at the waiter as they placed his food in front of him. He would gladly accept this form of distraction from the grueling storm that was raging in his boxers briefs.

He had started to be less sensitive to your touch through out dinner, it didn’t make it any easier, but it was the sliver of hope he needed, that he could make it through this meal without exploding under the very expensive mahogany table.

You knew he was becoming acclimated with your touch, the effects just weren’t as strong as they were in the beginning of the night, which meant you had to step it up. He was halfway done with dinner, letting his distraction melt away on the tip of his tongue. Your nimble fingers found the golden key that unlocked his ultimate destruction - with a quick and swift pull, his zipper sat at the bottom of his pants flap. He inhaled so sharply that a piece of food got caught in his throat, forcing him to cough into his napkin.

“Are you okay, hyung?” Youngjae leaned over from his spot at the table, a sweet frown tugging his lips down.

“Yeah, I’m okay,” his smile wavering but only for a moment.

Your hand snuck between the teeth of his zipper, the soft cotton fabric of his boxer briefs tickled your finger tips. It wasn’t a hard find, Jae could have shattered diamonds with the rock he was sporting. His eyes immediately grew two sizes when your delicate fingers had broken into the only barrier that was keeping him safe.

His eyes started to roll back into this head, the band of his lashes fluttered when you wrapped your digits around the thickest part of his cock. You gave him a gentle squeeze, a kind reminder that he was in public and he needed to remain focused. His only response was an anguished whimper that was only meant for your ears.

At no point did you ever think how this would affect you. You never once imagined what a world would feel like without his touch, something you adorned, and found, that you needed to keep on with your daily life. For three days you had been watching his shaking fingers stretch in search of your skin, like an addict looking for this next hit, but quickly retreating back to his sides. You had watched his eyes darken and glaze over at the thought of his appendage submerging into the pool of your insatiable desire. You couldn’t even begin to explain the amount of times you had soaked your panties at the mere thought of him finally breaking - bending you over his production equipment, driving into you over and over till your toes couldn’t even touch the ground, his cock piercing into you, rooted into the depths of your womb.

You were so lost in your own affliction, that you hadn’t realized that your hand had picked up speed substantially. Jae looked entirely broken under your touch. His breathing was starting to become ragged, overly labored. You could see through his white buttoned down shirt, that his core was in a constant state of strain at this point. You turned your cheek to see that his eyes were closed, his face towards you. His lips parted, catching his tongue digging into his molars.

You leaned forward, pressing your forehead to his. The gentle touch in another place other than his swollen shaft made his eyes flit open. “Please,” a much weaker voice than you were expecting, “know when to show me a little mercy, beautiful.” You had never heard any tinge of begging in his vocal inflection before, but there was always a first for everything.

“Mercy,” you whispered, the word feeling foreign on your lips, especially in this context. You immediately loosened your hand, the small action made a huge difference in his demeanor. You got to watch as his nerves unraveled, the breath he was holding finally being able to be released, his back slouching in his seat.

He was unsure how long your kindness would extend. He was thankful for the moment of ‘mercy’ but he was soon regretting the request, because you were no longer in contact with the heat of his skin, and he’d much rather be in agony from your merciless exploration than feel the emptiness that came with losing your touch.

He cleared his throat, his eyes shifting towards your direction. It was a silent plea for another dose of his favorite kind of high. He was about to mutter something under his breath, but the sound of your phone going off stopped him mid breath.

Buzz, buzz, buzz.

The feeling of the vibration sent small shocks through the chair, reaching the heat of your weeping core. The slight stimulation elicited a strangled gasp from your parted lips. The sound almost made Jaebeom’s flip switch. It reminded him far too much of the sounds he got you to sing, a siren’s song to his darkest fantasies.

“Excuse me, I need to take this.” Your apology was sent over to JYP, who only gave you a kind smile and a nod.

You pushed away from the table, the black cloth that hung from the edge dragged across your thigh - the sensation flooding your head with memories of Jae’s shirt moving between your legs when his shoulders forced your thighs to stay spread, his tongue a trained soldier, entering your battlefield.

You hurried away from the scene, afraid you may do or say something that would feel good in the moment, but would be nothing but problems later. You stayed in the hallway, leaning against the wall so you could watch Jae.

Your office had called. They were stating it was an emergency and you needed to come back immediately. You were uninterested in the voice on the other end, but far too captured in the man that clouded your mind. You noted the way his jaw would become exposed when he tilted his head, laughing at something one of his members said. His neck caught the dim fluorescent light above the table, an appetizing view.

“Yeah, Yeah. I’ll be there,” not bothering to let them finish, forcing your phone back into your purse.

Your feet carried you across the room, your hands resting against jaes shoulders, gliding down to his chest. As you pressed your hand over his heart, you could practically feel it trying to escape from his skin.

“I’ve got to head to work. It shouldn’t be long,” you leaned down, your nose skimming his neck before you placed a light kiss to his cheek, “I have an Uber waiting for me, take the car.”

He hoped that by quickly agreeing with you, you’d let him go and he could finally take a breath, but instead of showing that kindness from earlier, you whispered, “Don’t you dare touch yourself,” your teeth scraping against the tender part of his ear lobe.

If it were any other situation, you would have been in the bathroom. His hands ravenous for a touch, gripping at the fabric of your dress, forcing it over your hips. You would have your back to the glass, legs wrapped tightly around his waist as he drove into you. You’d swore you weren’t religious, but if there was ever a moment that you believed in anything, it would be in that room, because nothing on this earth could feel so heavenly.

That thought itself almost had you ending the bet right then, begging him to take you home. You didn’t though, you stood your ground and walked out that door after giving your goodbyes. The cool air from the night time sky was just what you needed to calm yourself down.

You hadn’t intended on being two hours later, but work kept you busy. You didn’t even have a moment to check on Jae, but you knew he wouldn’t jeopardize this. He wouldn’t dare lay a finger on himself. Your keys jingled as you set them on the table near the front door. The house was quiet, not even the tv making a sound.

“Baby?” You called out, flexing your leg back so you could grab the heel from your shoe.

You heard the pitter-patter of his feet coming around the corner. You didn’t know what you were expecting, but it wasn’t Jae already stripped down to his underwear. You weren’t disappointed in the slightest, just a little taken back. You did a quick scan of his body, regarding the raging erection that was pressed perfectly against his boxer briefs, so much so that you could even see the outline of his veins through the cotton.

“H-hi,” he stumbled over his words. He was now just overwhelmingly aware that you two were alone, and this could finally be the day he got his overdue release.

“Hello baby,” you took your time to make your way over to where he was standing.

“You look so beautiful,” it was barely a mumble out of his mouth.

“I know,” you nodded, bringing your face up, finally being able to see how starved he was, “And yet, you didn’t even break once to touch me. So I must have not been beautiful enough.”

You caught his hands balling into fists, his nostrils flaring. “I haven’t been allowed too,” he choked out. It was taking everything in him not to rip that dress off of you, but if he was anything, it was a man of his word.

You reached out, placing your hands over his fists. It was instantaneous that his body relaxed at your sudden touch. “Are you ready?” He didn’t even want to ask, he just nodded. He was ready for whatever it was that you wanted to inflict on him.

His hand opened up when you grabbed at it, pulling him towards the living room. He followed behind you, hypnotized by the way your hair trickled down your back, how it swayed when you walked. He was about to crash into you when you stopped, but halted just inches from your body. He could smell your perfume, a deep breath leaving his nose.

Your toes lifted you higher as you turned in your spot. His eyes stared down at you, devouring away the fabric that was hiding your body. You already felt undressed with the way he was looking at you.

“Sit,” you demanded, your nails dragging down his skin as you pushed him down onto the couch. You weren’t a possessive girl, but seeing the red marks that came from your touch made you clench your thighs together.

You took a step away from him, slipping the straps of your dress off your shoulders. You heard the breath stop in Jaebeom’s throat. You continued the slow process of undressing yourself. His eyes glued to your every move until your dress pooled at your feet.

“You were wearing that set all night?” He nearly growled, the words hardly making it passed his clenched teeth.

You merely nodded. Jae had bought you a new set of lingerie to wear on your last anniversary, but you told him he’d have to wait for a special occasion.

“A special occasion, huh?” The heavy sarcasm coated his words.

“There’s nothing quite as special as watching you fall from your dominant pedestal,” you had to admit that the smile that played across your features was smug.

He reached to his sides, gripping the couch. You knew he was trying his hardest not to touch you, and you could also see he was cracking slowly under the pressure.

“Beom-ie,” You breathed, each of your legs swinging to either side of him, brushing his hair back, “What do you want?” Leaning in, your lips just slightly brushing over his when you spoke.

“Fuck,” he swallowed back the dry lump in his the back of his throat, “I-I, god, please,” He croaked, his hips stuttering upwards, his iron packed dick pressed into your lace covered core.

“Please, what baby? Talk to me.” Your hips swiveled over him. His eyes squeezed shut, much like when you’re trying to forget the pain of an intense injury, but this was a pain he knew would have an explosive outcome. “Touch me,” he whined quietly into the void of his anguish, “Anything, I just need to feel your hands on me. I am losing my fucking mind, Y/N. I have never tried more for anything in my life, than I have now. I’ve never felt like this before.” His eyes tore open, as his mouth fell agape, his breathing already starting to escalate.

You pushed yourself to your knees, reaching down to hook your fingers into his waistband. Your knuckles grazed below his naval, his happy trail scratching against your skin, inducing a shudder from him. He was so overly sensitive already, and you hadn’t even begun the game you had in mind. He grunted as he planted his feet firmly on the ground, straining his hips up, giving you what little help he could offer. You shimmied the last article of clothing away from him. His manhood springing to life, finally feeling the freedom he had been craving.

He exhaled loudly, the whites of his eyes tumbling back into his head. You couldn’t help but smile, seeing some relief cross his face. As much as you loved this, your favorite turn on was watching him get lost in his pleasure.

You slowly sank back down, wishing that you two were skin to skin, but you weren’t ready to give this up yet. You placed both your hands behind you, resting them on his knees. You lifted your hips just enough to give his erection some room between your legs. You finally began to rock your hips over his length, feeling his shaft split your slit, even through your underwear.

“You’re so wet,” he panted, looking down to watch the intimate dance of seduction your were performing on his lap, “Take them off, I need to be inside of you, please let me inside.” His hands reached out, gripping your sides. His eyes grew wide, ripping his fingers away from your skin. Your hips quickly came to a stop, “No, no, no! Fuck, baby! I didn’t mean to. Please, just please don’t stop.” He frantically put his hands behind his back, pressing his weight into them.

Your bottom lip found its way out as you slid from his lap. The look of pure desperation was the only emotion you could take into account. “You knew the rules, Jae.” You sighed, now having to deal with the repercussions of this bet.

“Since you don’t know how to keep your hands to yourself. We need to teach you how,” you backed into the living room table, sitting on the edge, “You can touch yourself,” you tilted your head to the side, expectantly.

“I won’t do it again, please. I just need you,” he untangled his hands from behind his back, one of his hands reaching for his cock despite his argument.

“Do it, baby.” You extended your leg, using your foot to pry open his legs, getting a much better view of swollen appendage.

His thumb swept over the raging pink head, using his precum that was leaking out as a form of lubrication. He started to stroke quickly, seeking his own liberation, but you were hasty in cutting that off. This wasn’t his way out, this was a punishment for breaking the rule. “Nice and slow,” you sunk to your knees, crawling across the floor to set your chin on his thigh, watching his fingers tightened around his shaft, working the throbbing nerve center with his own arousal.

“What are you thinking about?” You wondered out loud, eyes fixed on the motion in front of your face. “Fucking you,” a crude, but honest answer.

“What position?” You snaked one of your arms around his calf, licking your lips.

“From behind,” he was thrusting himself into his hand, mewling softly, “You’re always the loudest in that position,” he divulged without a prompt.

“Oh? And do you like the sounds I make?” You purred, lifting a perfectly arched brow.

“I love them, you sound so beautiful. There is nothing like the way you cry out my name when you’re close,” he threw his head back, his hand working in fast circular motions. You could see the muscles in his stomach contacting. Little puffs of airy moans came from his mouth.

You reached forward, cupping his balls. You realized just how full he had become. He howled in delightful agony. You brought your eyes to his face as he brought his head up. The chain from his necklace was captured between his teeth. His eyes had eclipsed, irises blown out, leaving almost no white in his eyes. His hand was back to rapid motions. He was close, and as much as you wanted him to finish, you were selfish and wanted that for yourself.

“Stop.” You wrapped your fingers around his wrist, forcing him to bellow in misery, “Why!?” He cried out, his eyes filling with salty tears. He needed this more than he could ever explain, and you wanted it for him, but you needed him too.

“I want this to be mine,” you stood again, tucking your finger under his chin, forcing him to look at you. “Do you want that?”

“I’ve been wanting that,” His hands made their way behind his back again, and you knew he was serious about it. “You’re all I’ve wanted,” his eyelids started to droop. He was already fucked out, and he hadn’t even fucked yet.

Your response was silent, it was the motion of you removing your own fabric prison. He watched you from lidded eyes, his breathing still coming down from being erratic. You reached down, finding the base of his cock with ease, guiding it into you as you sat down. Jaebeom let out a bittersweet weep, digging his nails into the couch cushions behind him. You didn’t want to move yet, because you knew this wouldn’t last long for either of you.

“Move, please,” his mouth didn’t even look like it moved, but the words were all you needed to push on.

You leaned down, pressing feathery kisses to his collarbone as your hips began the same motion from earlier, but this time your warmth enveloped him. A hiss came from his clenched teeth, and you could feel the muscles in his thighs tighten with every rotation of your hips. Your walls caved around him, as the blood rushed through the veins of his cock.

“I can’t cum unless I’m touching you,” His voice was a mere whisper, almost ashamed that he had become so attached to you.

“You can touch me,” you kissed along his neck, feeling the pulse in his jugular.

His hand fumbled out of their hiding spot. He reached for your skin, gripping your hips, trapping you in his hands. You knew that there would be Jae sized bruises on your waist in the morning. He pushed you down, every inch of him filling you up. You gasped, wrapping your arms around his neck. You knew exactly where this was going to go.

His greedy hands held you like a life preserver, ready to drown in your ocean. His hips crashing into your like waves. His thrust were quick, deep and rough. He was a raging storm ready to unleash a hurricane. His hips snapped against you. Nothing but the sounds of your skin colliding with his, and labored breathing that pumped through your chests.

“I am so close,” he squeezed out between pants and cries of euphoria.

He bent forward, hiding his face in the crook of your neck. Allowing your fingers to find the back of his head, tangling in his hair. He continued his onslaught onto your body. If you could have, you would have screamed, but the wind was taken from your lungs with every life changing pound. The end was near, and the frayed string that was holding him together was coming undone. His thrusts ceased, his body shaking as he released his three days of torture into you, flooding you with his White Sea. You hadn’t realized that he had sunk his teeth into your neck, the pleasure you had been feeling was just so intense that nothing else mattered.

You ran your fingers through his hair, waiting for him to find his way back to you after he had had his head in the clouds. It was a while before his fingers started making small circles on your back, pressing little kisses into the purple area of your bruised neck from his teeth.

“Are you okay?” Your lips kissing his temple.

“I’m okay, baby. It was just... a lot for me,” he admitted.

“I know,” you pulled back, your bodies peeling away from each other, “You didn’t...” he mumbled, feeling cruel for only chasing his own release.

“I didn’t, but that’s okay. It happens. You needed that,” you caressed his cheek, letting him lean it into your hand.

“How about we take a shower,” he turned his head, kissing your thumb, “and since I can touch you now, I’ll be more than happy to assist you,” a sleepy smile appearing on his lips.

“You won’t be able to sleep if you don’t get me off, will you?” You knew him all too well, and you knew the guilt would eat away at him.

“You are correct,” he chuckled, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear.

“If you must,” you rolled your eyes, leaning forward to taste his lips.

“Promise me one thing before we get up,” he spoke between kisses.

“Anything.”

“Don’t ever deprive me of touching you. I could live a lifetime without sex... but I couldn’t live another second without being able to hold you.” His tired eyes, boring into yours.

“Pinky promise,” you lifted your hand, extending your finger.

He did the same, locking them together. You had learned your lesson.

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