#...........well out of context tha t nice | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

hydropyro · 1 year ago

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Wildly out of context NSFW OC Excerpt

TW: 18+ themes, SA, Violence, Abuse/Child Abuse, Dissociation, PTSD, SH

Reign of Fire

Leon offered the women his most sly smile as he invited them into the prince’s chambers, hoping that he’d successfully masked his displeasure. In Ikhiya’s absence their company had probably been arranged by Samuias to stave off Leon’s ‘lonliness’. The thought disgusted him.

Leon turned away from them, gesturing to the lounge now to his right as he moved away to pour each a glass of wine from Ikhiya’s small cart. He then took a seat in the centre of the settee between them, passing the drinks to each.

They immediately set upon him, unabashedly kissing and caressing his body, pulling the low collar of his shirt away from his shoulders and chest to expose more flesh. They’d visited him a few times — they were well past small talk and niceties.

The prince had some conference in Golratha that evening. On the one hand Leon appreciated not having an audience to the sounds that always followed soon after the maidens’ arrivals — but on the other hand it was nice to have someone that he could trust keeping an eye out for him. He wouldn’t be in any ‘danger’ from these — ladies — though. As much as they violated him, he would survive.

A—static—a numbness—began to take hold as Leon watched himself stand from the lounge and pull his t-shirt off, dropping it to the floor where he stood. He’d been in decent shape before arriving in Hanestria, but the muscles across his chest, back, and arms were taut now. It was probably the best he’d looked in his life, but it only repulsed him now. His almost it obsessive exercising had been the only respite from the gnawing of crippling anxiety in such a place.

Heavy pets were whispers across his skin now as Leon floated, numb, outside himself. The metal *clink* of his belt almost didn’t sound real, but then he watched his jeans being pulled down by his *helpful* guests. Leon stepped out of the all-but-removed clothes, leaving the jeans and underwear in the unceremonious pile where they’d been peeled from him, and he took both wine glasses and downed the remainder of each. He placed the glasses on the floor and straightened to wrap and arm around each woman, leading the way into the bedroom. Leon closed his eyes and lay himself back into the prince’s plush bedding, a sigh escaping him. Though the familiar setting was comforting, the sound hadn’t come from satisfaction as his guests started to work on his body. He was uncomfortable and angry.

Rough pressure, long false nails raked across his skin, teeth sank into his flesh—all were whispers. He watched himself be worked and mauled, his arms and legs spread open over the bed to give them unobstructed access to his body. He held that sly smile on his lips, watching as his eyes tracked the movements of the women—but dread gripped his heart.

A kiss pressed to his chest above his heart, the gentleness almost stinging in contrast to the scratching and swatting that had reddened his pale skin. He heard himself moan as the mouth descended to torment his nipple, his voice sounding distant and foreign.

“Sam-an-tha?” The maiden had lifted her head, her body lying across his. She continued to caress and tease his stimulated nipple while the nail of her other hand traced across the script on his chest. The white ink that was typically inconspicuous now stood out stark on him, slightly distorted by the welts forming beneath it. Her companion paid no mind as she mounted herself on him.

The name snapped him back to reality a moment and all of the sensations held at bay by his mind’s absence slammed into him with such force, tearing a cry from his throat. Physical pleasure and mental anguish waged an agonising war as Leon pulled the woman not already impaled on him into a rough, biting kiss—needing her to just shut the fuck up.

She laughed, pushing herself away from him to inspect the calligraphy again. “Is that a tattoo? Do you have any more?”

He ground his teeth and worked his fingers into her hair, grasping her jaw with the other hand. He pulled her down to him again, growling into her ear, “You’re not here to talk,” before he crushed their mouths together again.

Especially not about her —

Johnny (Leon), age 8

He couldn’t get the eyes right, and the cheap eraser on the pencils from the discount store did a better job of smudging than erasing. He glanced at the reference photo again. He kept it in a little pouch that Cala had sewn in her new ‘Home Economics’ class at school. “One of the perks of being in a big school this time,” she had said. Before then he’d hidden the photo, stolen from his dad’s photo albums and photocopied in secret at school before returning the original, in a roll of dress socks hidden at the back of his drawer.

In two years, Johnny could take an actual art class and work with better, specialised materials. The art building stood between theirs’ and the Upper Grades, adjacent to the cafeteria. He would walk past its big glass doors and wide, bright windows nearly daily but hadn’t allowed himself to look inside. He wouldn’t get his hopes up. They never stayed in one place for too long. If he were lucky, his next school would have playground equipment, let alone a real art studio.

He'd been so lost in thought, trying to perfect the symmetry, that he hadn’t heard the heavy footsteps thundering down the hall. He slipped his reference picture beneath his bedside table at the last instant, unable to turn the notebook to another page or stand before the door burst open.

“Johnathan,” his father scolded him. “Do you expect me to cook in that fucking pigsty?” He gestured out the door in the direction of the kitchen.

“What’s taking you so damn long in here?”

Johnny pulled himself quickly to his knees, looking up at John Sr. Even with their vast height difference, he could smell the alcohol on his father’s breath, though mid-afternoon sun filtered through the plastic blinds across the room.

“Sorry, Dad, I was just—doing homework.”

“Looks like playing to me,” John snorted. His father’s hand extended quickly, thick though long fingers splayed expectantly.

Johnny’s heart broke because he knew he would never get the drawing back. He tore the page carefully nonetheless from the workbook before passing it to his father.

“You’d do better in school if you spent less time doodling.” He crunched the page in his hand as he turned and left the room. Johnny leapt to his feet and started after him, hoping to fish it from the trash when he wasn’t looking.

John had already lit a cigarette and was throwing away the match but stopped to look at the drawing. “What the fuck is it even supposed to be?” he turned to his son, more annoyed than anything. “I’ve seen you draw this lady before. Who is it?”

Johnny couldn’t tell his father who the drawing was of. He shrugged, at a loss for words.

“Junior!” His father was always angry, but called him Junior, John Junior, unless Johnny was in trouble.

Terror coursed through him at the sound of his father’s bellow. “I—I just like her.” He knew he was to make eye contact when beings spoken to, but couldn’t bear to look into his father’s pale blue eyes. Instead he focused on the bridge of John’s pointed nose.

“Who is she?” John asked again, shaking the paper to catch the boy’s attention. “Don’t lie to me, boy.”

A lump rose in his throat, and Johnny felt heat jabbing the back of his eyes. “She’s—” he suppressed the urge to say ‘mom’. He wasn’t allowed to call her that, though he did in private. “Sam—Samantha.”

Angry eyebrows shot upward. “My Samantha?”

“Yes, sir.”

He didn’t see the slap coming, and didn’t know if it or the ashes that fell to his cheek were hotter. Johnny had learned long ago that a yelp would be met with a harder blow, and he bit his tongue.

“Get this trash out of my face!” John raged. He stood still as a statue, towering menacingly over the boy.

Johnny inched forward to take the crumbled page, careful not to brush his hand across his father’s.

“No! Not in the trash! You’ll dig it out again.” John pointed, waving his cigarette to a squat coffee table in the living room. He had a big, green, glass ashtray there, the chimney he was. “Get rid of it,” John growled.

Johnny’s body grew numb. He couldn’t remember crumpling the drawing into a tight ball, moving across the room, and placing it gingerly on the thick pile of stinking ashes. He fumbled with the matchbox, the abrasive so worn down from use. Each time the bright green ball at the end of the stick scraped across the cardboard, screeching as it did, Johnny shivered. The sound itself made his teeth ache. John began to storm over, but Johnny was able to get it lit before his father could ‘help’.

His eyes stung, but he was too old to cry.

“First, you kill her, and then you dare to disrespect her memory with trash like that?” John’s dangerous grumble came from just beyond Johnny’s right shoulder. He drew hard on his cigarette, held it a moment, and blew it out over Johnny’s head.

They watched the ball burn together in silence. Suddenly, John spoke, sounding irritated. He waved the spent butt of his cigarette around, pinched forcefully between his thumb and forefinger.

“Kitchen’s a fucking mess,” he began, his jaw working as he clenched and unclenched his teeth. “You disgrace my wife—who’s not here because of you—and now you’re using my fucking ashtray.”

Johnny’s cry of pain earned an open palm slap after the last embers were ground against his bare shoulder. Then the crushed butt followed the drawing into the small flames.

“Forget about dinner,” John snapped. He moved away, back into he kitchen behind, shouting, “Cala!”

She emerged from her room at the end of the hall. “Yes, Dad?”

“Your homework done?” Leon saw her nod at the end of the dark hallway. “The bathrooms are clean?” Again, she nodded.

“Come in here and get this kitchen picked up so we can eat sometime tonight. Your brother decided to fuck around.”

The siblings exchanged sad, empathetic expressions as Cala made her way up the hall.

“Thank your sister for picking up your slack, then fuck off to bed,” John snapped at his son.

Johnny did as he was told, murmuring thanks to Cala in passing. Her hand brushed his, as much reassurance as she could give.

As soon as he made it into his room, Johnny hid the sketchbook and the only picture he had of his late mother in his school bag, then hid beneath his covers.

Johnny (Leon), age 13

He hadn’t thought he’d get into any legal trouble for having a buddy’s uncle give him some ink. He was supposed to wait until he was eighteen but hadn’t paid for it. In exchange for some custom art, he’d been given a white tat in calligraphy of his mother’s name right over his heart.

One would need to look hard to find it among the sea of scars already marring his pale skin. He’d always planned on waiting until he was an adult and having it done more visibly, not having to fear John’s anger, but he wasn’t sure that that he would be around that long—especially as of late.

The next time that Leon’s mind broke the surface of the present, he was being shoved hard by the taller of the two maidens. The other maiden was out of sight, but Leon heard crying in the main room of the prince’s chambers.

The maiden pushed him again, and Leon allowed himself to fall back into a sitting position on the edge of the bed. He watched her storm out, his brain still foggy. As he gazed around the room, which had become so familiar and comforting to him, his first sense to strengthen was olfactory—and the room reeked of sex.

He put his hands on the bed to steady himself and found it wet. Not ‘soaked’—but disturbing, nonetheless. He stood again and dutifully stripped the bed, leaving the soiled sheets in a bundle by the bedroom door. Then he went into the bathroom, still searching for any recollection of that evening. He ran the shower hot—almost too hot—and wasted no time in bathing.

He’d commandeered a rough fibre brush from the prince, designed for rough skin on feet, and had used it on every inch of his flesh. Every. One. Perhaps, he reasoned, if he scrubbed off the top layer or two of skin, he wouldn’t feel their hands and mouths and—

He scrubbed harder.

The maiden had teased him, again, as she had their first night together—asking—begging—that he give her the ‘royal treatment’. He felt a rage building in him again at the recent but cooly detached memory. Red pinpricks sprouted in the wake of the brush—blood. Not much, but it was as if every pore had been torn open. Leon moved the brush and focused his scrubbing on a new, defiled patch of skin.

“The stupid bitch,” he growled to himself. How smug she’d been.

It wasn’t something that he *needed* but Leon could appreciate the subtleties pain could add to the pleasure—scratching, biting, nothing too extreme. Is that what the maiden expected from him, though? He didn’t know what kinds of stories Kacie had concocted about their ‘engagements’, but surely it was nothing enticing.

Once his skin had been thoroughly soughed, Leon used a softer cloth and soap for bathing, the screaming of his raw skin liberating. Then he stepped out of the shower. He knew from previous evenings with similar visitors that even the prince’s softest towels would be painful, so he stood and examined himself in the mirror and brushed his teeth until his gums bled. By then, he’d dried enough to wander out into the entry. As he passed, he retrieved a pair of silk boxers for ‘his’ side of the prince’s tall wardrobe.

Ikhiya was seated at his typical place at the desk, startling Leon.

“Hello. I had expected you to stay in the capital,” Leon greeted the man.

The prince had a grim expression on his face. “I see you had some company.”

Leon grimaced in response.

“They left less-than-satisfied,” Ikhiya continued. “Losing your touch?”

The Vorinian gave him an angry frown.

“One woman was crying,” Ikhiya said, eyeing his friend. “She claims you were going to kill her.”

The fog of memory continued to clear. Leon had his hands wrapped around the Hanestrian maiden’s thin throat, his fingers interlacing at the nape of her neck. He’d been [resent enough to focus pressure on the sides of her neck, cutting off blood from her brain but not impeding her breathing—too badly—though he had pressed his thumbs into the hollow of her throat.

The sex had halted then, he remembered. One woman struggled in his grasp, and the other moved away in horror. Leon had no desire to hate-fuck the maiden—he just wanted to hurt her. He wanted to make her regret begging him, not once but twice, to treat her like his enemy.

He’d laid over her, her bare legs still splayed either side of his waist, though their bodies were no longer conjoined. He’d suspended his weight on his knuckles beneath her neck and on her thin body itself, forcing the air further from her lungs with his heavy chest. He’d hissed ill-enunciated obscenities at her, not caring as spit flew out like venom with his hateful words.

Her richly tan skin had darkened and purpled around her cheeks, full lips, and wide eyes—those eyes becoming bloodshot as the pressure from the blood unable to escape built.

Her fighting had been weak and futile, but the other maiden pulled him off, forcing Leon to release the woman and steady himself into standing. Then she’d shoved him, and Leon was present—all rage and pain pushed back into the recesses of his mind.

“Shit,” Leon took a seat at the lounge, dropping his head into his hands. “I fucked up.”

Ikhiya didn’t disagree.

#reign of fire #Leon Maylee #Ikhyia Hanestri #oc #writing #author

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nightferns · 4 years ago

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The Third Variant to the SootCraft Fundy and Wilbur family drama that Maybe Accidentally Started it

So yesterday me and @bigbraveboop came to the conclusion that C!fundy had an arc in early early L'manburg that we were kinda unaware of. And it cracks the case of... how the family drama started. And also is why is this exists

C!Tommy was the catalyst of the c!Fundy | c!Wilbur family drama in S1 and i promise i have proof

all /rp

So what does Fundy repeatedly say is his biggest gripe with Wilbur currently and multiple times after his death? Well:

“You were there for me for a very very long time and then when i needed you the most, you skedaddled fuck the out of my life and died. Because of what? L’manberg’s causes, huh? You thought that was- You thought that was justice? You thought that was good for me? You left me, man.’

“The dad that- my dad that exploded himself for the sake of a country, just for that country to be demolished in future hands?-"

“He put me to priority number 2, man. He put me in the second place.”

So its about L’manburg being more important than him to Wilbur.

Now lets dig deep, where did that insecurity start? Why did Fundy arrive at this conclusion? Why did he feel like this in the first place about his position in L’manburg and his Father?

We kinda assume it was always there or was because of Wilbur actually prioritizing L’manburg over his son/being negectfull. But no! Fundy was very confident in his realtionship with Wilbur and his position in L’manburg at the Start and we see tha change so!

I want to argue that this insecurity... didn't come from Wilbur or any of his actions or lack thereof. Not directly.

“Wilbur? I dunno, Wilbur’s a man of chaos, alright- due to the lore of the server, Wilbur may or may not have been the father of our nation, but- that doesn’t mean he’s for everything I do. That doesn’t mean he stands behind me, alright? Not necessarily...not necessarily.”

This is the first instance of Fundy doubting his connection to Wilbur helping things, i'd argue it still was a part of a lighhearted bit that isn’t to be taken too seriously in the context of the larger story but i realized something that made me change my mind, i mean it is still a lighthearted bit but it connects to a certain quote from uncle Innit:

“What would father think?”

And then that got me thinking and:

Part 1 aka Early L'manburg Fundy had different feelings towards Wilbur than Civil War Fundy

So how did Fundy act towars Wilbur early on?

Fundy: "Don't speak to me ma- hey that's fucked up don't talk about that. That's-"

Tommy: "Listen Th- you gotta kn- you gotta know you don't speak to the boss's son like that. Nevermind about- about the boss's wife to the boss's son in front of the boss's right hand man! You really gotta- You really gotta read the room Thunder."

Fundy: "Yea you don't. You don't."

JM: "fine ok let him do what he wants to do, i just don't wanna hear about it [..]"

Tommy: "Listen to me Fundy- Listen to me Fundy- he didn't mean that- he's just a bold man- he had- he had a little-"

Fundy [turning to JM]: "I will tell on you."

Tommy: " NO no no no Fundy- Fundy He had a little flirt with Dream- he had a little flirt with dream, he's- he's a- he's really new, he's learing his boundaries, he's over stepped them, alright, listen, but you don't have to tell Will, you don't have to tell no-one. "

[To JM] "Thunder you need to to calm your fucking- holy shit."

"-Please, please give him a rest."

JM: "no i- im sorry, im sorry, i'm sorry Fundy"

Fundy: 'I don't want this behavior again, alright."

JM: "no i wont- i wont-"

Fundy: 'Don't talk to my Dad OR my salmon Mother like that ever again, i will tell on you, keep it in mind. I have privilege to speak up against-"

JM: "i understand."

I will come back to the i have a privilege line later but first, from this we see Fundy being confident that Wilbur would take his side because he is his son. He is the “i will tell my parents about this” kid, alongside that he doesn’t feel like he has no imput in decisions, he doesnt feel insecure here he is in the position of power.

So again when did it appear?

Well,

Fundy: “I may or may not have scammed a bunch of people, including all of L’manburg people, um…”

Tommy: “You scammed L’manburg members?!”

Fundy: “But here’s the thing – I’m willing to pay you a part of the profit if you help me out here!”

Tommy: “Fundy…okay, can I tell you what’s happened from my point of view? The son of the President has gone around scamming the other presidential members, and as the Vice President whilst the President’s not on, this is my duty to make sure that this doesn’t pull apart L’manburg. And what you’re saying – what you’ve essentially just said is, ‘hey, can I bribe you?’��

Fundy: “…Can I?”

Tommy: “Jesus Christ…No, okay, we need to settle this now, ‘cause I mean if this happens on my turf, I’m gonna fucking take the blame from this from Wilbur, alright…so listen, Fundy, under no circumstances can you bribe anyone!”

Fundy: “I got two Netherite scraps?”

Tommy: “Okay, okay – explain to me what’s happened, please.”

[Fundy explains the conflict]

Tommy: “What would father think?”

Fundy: “Well, he always – he always sides…by me…obviously.”

Tommy: “Would he though? I mean, you’ve gone against the other members of the nation he fought to build.”

Fundy: “Well only because my loot has been stolen! Alright?”

Tommy: “This sounds petty, Fundy.”

Fundy: “Okay, okay, I can word this differently in my favor.”

Tommy: “No, okay, no – you’re not meant to say that out loud! Okay, I’m gonna ask Tubbo what’s happened, and then from there on we’ll – but please do not do any – we can’t have L’manburg falling out over this, alright?”

So here we see Fundy the president’s son being put in comparison to L’manburg the nation the president built for what Wilbur would prioritize for the first time, and Tommy sows the seeds that maybe L’manburg matters more to Wilbur than him, that Wilbur would choose the nation. this is also first time Fundy has been sort of excluded from the Whole of L’manburg.

and we see Tommy’s words affect Fundy,

Fundy: “We gotta list everyone who’s against me:”

“I killed Tubbo twice, I stole his bow. Tubbo’s probably against me.”

“Tommy has always been against me from the start.”

“Sapnap is against me because I killed his animals and stole them.”

“Punz is against me ‘cause I stole his bees.”

“Eret is against me ‘cause I went after Karl.”

“Karl’s against me ‘cause -- I just realized I’ve made a lot of enemies...I just realized I don’t have many -- I don’t have many allies on the server. There’s not many allies.”

“Who’s neutral? Niki! Niki is with me! Niki is friendly.”

“Wilbur? I dunno, Wilbur’s a man of chaos, alright...due to the lore of the server, Wilbur may or may not have been the father of our nation, but...that doesn’t mean he’s for everything I do. That doesn’t mean he stands behind me, alright? Not necessarily...not necessarily.”

“Quackity? Quackity’s definitely not -- no, listen, Quackity’s definitely not for me, okay. I called him a whore. There’s definitely -- there’s definitely many things Quackity has against me.”

so here is my argument... Fundy’s insecurity started with Tommy.

Part 2 Development Of Those Feelings (Uncle Tommy you’re not Helping)

Fundy, growing disillusioned with Wilbur and L’manburg, lead to this one coversation between Fundy and Wilbur,

Wilbur: Well the uh- the ballot entries have closed now.

Fundy: Who's in it?

Wilbur: Well it originally was just gonna be me and Tommy, me and Tommy tired to do it so- tried to do it so we will be the only ones running, then suddenly out of nowhere Quackity joins and enters himself on the ballot-

Fundy: Ok.

Wilbur: -so it's me and Tommy against Quackity and someone else.

Fundy: Who's someone else?

Wilbur: We don't know yet, he hasn't announced,

Fundy: Wait then- oh, so it's just a random… sneaky person who put himself in the ballot not announced who he is.

Wilbur: yeah, yeah. I mean if you wanna try and convince Quackity that you wanna run against your father.

Fundy: Yeah ok.

Wilbur: Wait, you- you wouldn't though.

Fundy: What if i win? What are- what are you gonna do?

Wilbur: Well then you'd be Vice President.

Fundy: but-What if i win?

Wilbur: Why do you want power in L'manburg so much?

Fundy: Why do you want power?

Wilbur: Because- i led the revolution, i'm your… i'm your president.

Fundy: That's history.

Wilbur: Wh- d- Do you not think i- i'm suitable to run for president?

Fundy: I think you are, but i think I am as well.

Wilbur: I don't know man. I don't- i think- i think you- i think you'd be s- i think you'd be getting into a fight you wouldn't want to start with me. You've only been on the positive side of me, you've only seen my nice side, because y'know? being my son you get- you get special- y'know? You won't ever see me going against you.

Fundy: Wait so you're a biased person going for presidency.

Wilbur: Biased to my son? Yes. But, if you're gonna run against me then i'm changing, i'll- i'll go guns blazing.

Fundy: I'll have a word with Quackity.

Wilbur: Fundy i… i've got- i've got- i've got a bad feeling about this. I think you're just gonna… you're just gonna get hurt.

Fundy: That will happen-

Wilbur: Fundy yeah- Yeah someone in my chat just pointed out, Fundy you started the civil war.

Niki: I mean technically Sapnap started the civil war.

Fundy: I mean- i mean technically- Yeah y' know, technically- and i'm gonna win it! It's fine! I mean what does he have on me, really?

Wilbur: I thought it was you fighting Tubbo?

Fundy: what?

Wilbur: I thought civil war was you and Tubbo?

Fundy: No, Tubbo's just a prick.

Wilbur: Sapnap's not even- not even part of L’manburg how is it a civil war?

Fundy: I don't know you brought it up!

Wilbur: Tommy told me- Tommy told me it was Tubbo and Fundy.

Fundy: Yeah no Tommy is a little bit delusional.

Wilbur: I think i've spoiled you.

Fundy: How?

Wilbur: I think you need to learn some manners.

Fundy: I dunno- power seems nice.

Wilbur: Fine, you can run against me, it won't end well for you but you can give it a go.

Fundy: Like i said i'll- i'll have a word with Quackity i'll think of my actions, see what will happen, i'm not saying necessarily that i'll go against you, then again i'm not standing beside you because you may or may not be the father of L'manburg

Wilbur: And you! The father of you!

Fundy: That's irrelevant. To-

Wilbur: No it's not irrelevant! It's very relevant to this!

Fundy: I don't- i don't think that's relevant to presidency

I’ll talk over Wilburs pov here in a little bit but focusing on Fundy,

He wants to run, other than everything we established before here Fundy wants to run to prove himself to himself, and we see the other part of this conflict more internally is,

(“[..]��may or may not be the father of L'manburg- “ , “ That's irrelevant.” )

Well, here is the insecurity about Wilbur choosing L’manburg (here his position as president) over Fundy, the being second place to L’manburg part matters here becasue i think this is where Wilbur and Fundy fundamentally clash, so Fundy doesn’t want for it to matter to Wilbur, he doesn’t want for his position as son to have any influence over Wilbur here beacuse of this fear that that’s why he may be in the second place.

now let’s move on to,

Uncle Tommy ‘helps’

Fundy: “I’m wearing glasses…are you making fun of my eyesight?!”

Tommy: “Yes.”

Sapnap: “Your father would be very disappointed.”

Fundy: “Wh – disappointed for wearing glasses?!”

Tommy: “You got glasses, like what are you wearing…”

Fundy: “What do you mean?”

Tommy: “Sapnap, Sapnap, over here. Fundy, Fundy, Fundy, I’m really sorry to say this – I’m just here to publicly denounce you.”

Fundy: “…What?”

Tommy: “I just, I – yeah. You’re stinky, you’re shitty, the fur that’s sewn onto your skin, I look at it and I go (retching sounds) And whilst you’re a lovely guy, you’re actually not, you’re really…and all the viewers are like ‘oh no!’ But they can’t smell you. I can! Holy shit, you know? I mean you know, Sapnap…”

Fundy: “I showered two hours before the stream…”

Tommy: “I know, and that’s what makes it so remarkable, how you smell that terrible.”

Fundy: “I used coconut oil…it smells good…”

…

Tommy: “Fundy, I’m just here to kinda let you know that I – if you weren’t Wilbur’s son, you would be out of L’manburg, alright? Just remember – you need to keep that relationship with your father. I saw how asshole-y and bratty you were acting in the courtroom the other night. You need to pull your shit together young man.”

Fundy: “Being neutral is – is asshole?”

Tommy: “Yes. Come with me, Sapnap. Yeah, I’ve denounced you – well no no no, you were challenging him. You were challenging him.”

Fundy: “Denounced to what?”

Tommy: “I just – it’s just a formal way of saying you suck.”

(Tommy and Sapnap leave)

Fundy: “…They are mean…They are mean! Why are they so mean? That is so mean…”

Fundy: “Listen, it is one thing making fun of a person’s appearance…it is one thing making fun of a person’s blindness, but hey – don’t fucking make fun of my coconut oil! Listen dude…that shit smells tasty! That smells good! Man…that’s…god…coconut oil, man…dude.“

…

Fundy: “TNT their houses? That will just prove their point, chat. That will just prove their point. That will just prove their point…they’re just mean. They’re so mean. But it is okay, chat. It is okay. The reason why it’s okay…that’s actually true. Why is he talking to the enemy? Wait…wait a minute. Wait a minute! So let me get the story straight real quick.”

“Chat…just hold up a second here! Hold on a second! So Tommy is demoting me, right? And he’s saying you’re only in L’manburg because of Wil. So Tommy says…in theory, he would kick me out if he had the chance. But considering that, while he’s together with Sapnap…it leads me to believe…Tommy wants to destroy L’manburg!”

“Why would he do that? Why would he team up with Sapnap? He had no correlation with this conversation at all. What was the reason for that?”

“…Do we have another traitor in our midst?”

…

Fundy: “Listen, Tommy, here’s a really interesting theory, alright…here’s an interesting theory, Tommy. I got a little theory on my mind! Listen, boy, we’re part of L’manburg, you and me. Wil as well, Tubbo, all of us, alright? And we’re supposed to be a union! Now here’s the thing! Here’s the thing. If you said, due to Wilbur I’m still basically part of L’manburg – in other terms saying that if it was on your hands you would get me out of there, right, why would you excessively bring Sapnap, out of all people, for that conversation alone?”

Tommy: “Shall I explain to you? It’s because, Fundy, we fucking need votes, Fundy. We need votes! This Quack City guy, son of BadBoyHalo? He’s just – he’s just, like, oh my god. We needed votes. And listen, Fundy–”

Fundy: “You basically just lost my vote, and I feel like that’s your purpose!”

Tommy: “You’re in L’manburg! You vote for us already – you vote for your own father, don’t be an idiot!”

Fundy: “I feel like you’re trying to bring us apart, Tommy. I feel like your goals are not supportive towards L’manburg at the moment…”

Tommy: “From my perspective, Sapnap hates you, Fundy. Sapnap hates you. And if I go listen, if I had to tier list all of the members of L’manburg, Fundy would be in D tier. He needs to hear that.”

Fundy: “…Tommy, are you Eret?”

Post the court debate Fundy was more decided on running on his own,

“Honestly, I feel like everything just needs to change. Honestly, I feel like neither of the parties have done enough right to deserve leadership, to deserve presidency in the first place. I feel like a lot of shit needs to change.”

Fundy didnt want to endorse any of the parties, SWAG2020 was endorsed by Dream, and he belived POG2020 to be corrupt because of the bribing Karl situation, so he was more keen on running on his own, and then came the public denouncing situaion.

Obviously Fundy was hurt by this, especially considering Sapnap was his enemy, and Tommy’s words didnt do Fundy’s and Wilburs already shaky relationship many favours, but his behaviour both pushed Fundy futher away from the POG party, and started Fundy’s ‘traitor Tommy’ theory that he shared with Niki after which the Coconut2020 party was formed.

Part 3 Wilbur is a oblivious dumbass but it makes sense now.

now lets look at Wilburs pov of things, which means we are coming back to the privilege line,

-----

JM: "no i- im sorry, im sorry, i'm sorry Fundy"

Fundy: 'I don't want this behavior again, alright."

JM: "no i wont- i wont-"

Fundy: 'Don't talk to my Dad OR my salmon Mother like that ever again, i will tell on you, keep it in mind. I have privilege to speak up against-"

JM: "i understand."

So coming back to this quote, i belive Wilbur didnt realize Fundy had these doubts about thier relationship, because he was used to Fundy sharing his problems with him, and he was left kinda drifting in an ��why is my son suddenly against me now??’

Wilbur didnt realize Fundy’s feelings about him had changed, as in Fundy no longer WOULD come to him if he had any probems, because Fundy used to come to him with problems, ("I will tell on you.") But Tommy’s first comment knocked him down and the debate and the Sapnap-Tommy situation had as well and the denouncement, (which Wilbur also knew shit about) because he was already insecure about his place in L’manburg and Wilbur. AND he wouldn't come to Wilbur like he used to because Wilbur was the point of his insecurity even if he wasnt the couse of it.

So we see Wilbur kinda be sad and confused and misstepping becasue of that,

Fundy: Wait so you're a biased person going for presidency.

Wilbur: Biased to my son? Yes. But, if you're gonna run against me then i'm changing, i'll- i'll go guns blazing.

Fundy: I'll have a word with Quackity.

Wilbur: Fundy i… i've got- i've got- i've got a bad feeling about this. I think you're just gonna… you're just gonna get hurt.

------

Wilbur: Tommy told me- Tommy told me it was Tubbo and Fundy.

Fundy: Yeah no Tommy is a little bit delusional.

Wilbur: I think i've spoiled you.

Fundy: How?

Wilbur: I think you need to learn some manners.

Fundy: I dunno- power seems nice.

Wilbur: Fine, you can run against me, it won't end well for you but you can give it a go.

-----

Wilbur: Wait, look who’s coming, look who’s coming.

Tommy: Uh oh!

Wilbur: My son. My boy.

Tommy: Your ex-son.

Wilbur: Yeah. Well, I mean, he’s still my son in blood, but, he’s just…

Tommy: You should put him up.

Wilbur: What d’you mean, put him up? What, for adoption?

Tubbo: For adoption.

Tommy: Yeah. You should see if Big Q will adopt him.

[They discuss Fundy’s Twitch Prime cape. He runs up on stage, to the microphone, and starts punching the air. He’s not in the same vc as them.]

Wilbur: What’s he doing, what’s he doing- what is this? What is this bit? What is he doing?

Tommy: What the fuck are you- no.

Wilbur: He’s just not- he’s not- he’s really upsetting me.

Tommy: Just- just- he’s not President is he? He’s got no manners, he has no manners. No etiquette.

Wilbur: Look, he’s supposed to be my son.

[Wilbur types in chat: “fundy talk to me” and Fundy immediately leaves the game.]

Tubbo: He is trying.

Tommy: Tubbo, you’re gonna get murdered, my friend.

Wilbutr: He said, he said, “I am here for the Presidencialcy-” He just left.

Tommy: And then he- [sighs] I’m so sorry you have to deal with him.

W: I don’t- I- It’s really sad, like I… Honestly, I- when he turned around to me and he said he wasn’t gonna vote for me, and then he decided he was gonna vote for the opposition, and then he decided he was gonna run against me, that was- one of those was the straw that broke my back. I’m not sure which one- I’m still contemplating which one was the- are you listening?

[Tommy has jumped off the podium to join Tubbo in the audience.]

Tpmmy: Yeah, I’m going down to Tubbo, I just- I’m just letting you vent, Wilbur, I want you to have time to vent.

Wilbur: Yeah I just- I miss me son! I miss me son! I miss when he was my boy! Do you remember when he was my boy?

Tommy: Yeah, I’m not really good at handling… People who are emotional.

Wilbur also didn’t know anything about the denouncement situation,

Sapnap: “Will you continue to have your son banished from L’Manberg if I vote for you?”

Wilbur: “My son. My- My son. Look, we’re talking about politics here, I don’t want to talk about my family, if that’s alright. … I would like to say, thank you, Sapnap, for the question, I very much appreciate it, but I’m not gonna be fielding responses about my family situation, thank you.” (Alivebur)

*Wilbur proceeds to step off the podium and cry*

Wilbur: “Fundy...!”

Besides that fundamenatally Fundys and Wilburs views about the presidency oppose eachother,

“Tommy, I’m- I’m- I’m- I don’t know what to do, Tommy, I’ve never not been President.”

Fundy sees Wilbur and L'manburg as two separate things that he has to unfiairly contest with and for

1. for Wilbur because of his fears, for a place among L’manburg members

2. Because He wants to prove himself to himself. he needs to know what Tommy said, isn’t true/he can thrive regardless without his fathers support he can still be a great member of L’manburg and even a president

Wilbur sees himself as inherently connected trough L’manburg with everyone to the point that he thinks that without his position he cant do anything for his loved ones/ he wont be usefull. he thinks of l’manburg as something he does FOR all of them including Fundy.

“My son… My son is tearing down the walls, in front of me! My son is tearing down the walls in front of me! The walls I built to keep him safe! I promised him this world, Tommy, I promised him this world.”

----

“Fundy was the closest thing I had to something I cared about in L’Manberg, when it all began. You know, when it started, the closest thing to anything I cared about was Fundy. Fundy was my, he was my, he was my boy! My rock!”

----

Ranboo: "I don't know if they actually needed me, but I was there.(about his work in the NLM cabinet)"

Wilbur:"I know that feel."

This why Fundy and Wilbur clash fundamentally here,

Wilbur: And you! The father of you!

Fundy: That's irrelevant. To-

Wilbur: No it's not irrelevant! It's very relevant to this!

Fundy: I don't- i don't think that's relevant to presidency

Part 4 Tommy WHY? (he is propably protective and and a tiny bit jealous )

----

Tommy: “Hey, you know about Fundy’s little rebellious stage he’s going through?”

----

Fundy: “You basically just lost my vote, and I feel like that’s your purpose!”

Tommy: “You’re in L’manburg! You vote for us already – you vote for your own father, don’t be an idiot!”

Fundy: “I feel like you’re trying to bring us apart, Tommy. I feel like your goals are not supportive towards L’manburg at the moment…”

----

Wilbur: Wait, look who’s coming, look who’s coming.

Tommy: Uh oh!

Wilbur: My son. My boy.

Tommy: Your ex-son.

Wilbur: Yeah. Well, I mean, he’s still my son in blood, but, he’s just…

Tommy: You should put him up.

Wilbur: What d’you mean, put him up? What, for adoption?

Tubbo: For adoption

---

Wilbur: He said, he said, “I am here for the Presidencialcy-” He just left.

Tommy: And then he- [sighs] I’m so sorry you have to deal with him.

[Tommy has jumped off the podium to join Tubbo in the audience.]

Tommy: Yeah, I’m going down to Tubbo, I just- I’m just letting you vent, Wilbur, I want you to have time to vent.

Wilbur: Yeah I just- I miss me son! I miss me son! I miss when he was my boy! Do you remember when he was my boy?

Tommy: Yeah, I’m not really good at handling… People who are emotional.

Besides Tommy genuinely wanting to get more votes during the dennoucemnt situation, his seconddary motive was well, he was protective over Wilbur, he noticed that what Fundy did during the debate hurt Wilbur, and kept acting bitter towards him from then on. ( “ I saw how asshole-y and bratty you were acting in the courtroom the other night.” / And then he- [sighs] I’m so sorry you have to deal with him.” )

the he a was tiny bit jealous point IS more up in the air but we can compare this to how Tommy acted towards Ranboo just after leaving prison, when he learned of the c!beeduo marriage.

Quotes from @/kateis-cakeis, @/findingjoynweirdstuff, @/ace-enderchest and my own transcripts, thank you guys!

#dream smp #dsmp #wilbur soot #fundy #tommyinnit #night's talk tag #dsmp analysis #night's meta tag

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littlemisslipbalm · 5 years ago

Text

“harry’s stylist, right?” part II

Harry and his stylist go from colleagues to friends to lovers because they’ve been in love with each other from the jump

this gif bc i couldn’t fine the fit i wanted to showcase, but that night him and y/n get closer than they had gotten before :))

and we’re back :) - this is the last part of this i may do some little blurbs and stuff about these two if people want it (maybe) i hope you all enjoy this part, it’s not proofread so sorry about that lol. Feedback and reblogs are so very very appreciated, also feel free to message me about you’re feelings about this

Word Count: just over 10k | Warnings: swearing, alcohol consumption, implication of smut, i think that’s it

part 1

After the call with Jeff, which wasn’t really a conversation at all, moreso a berating from him, she was in the worst mood. She shrugged off the Bode jacket and hung it up in her entryway closet. She wasn’t planning on wearing it ever again. Without the jacket on, her shirt that seemed to be exactly on the nose with it’s “we’re in the shit” graphic was clear and she untucked it from her light mint pants. She was exhausted, both physically and mentally. Instead of picking her phone up again, she decided she could do without communication for a while. Her feet padded to her bedroom, after removing her nikes and socks. In her bedroom she opened up her record player, wanting music, but not wanting to be bothered with her laptop since it had a connection to the internet.

She grabbed her Electric Warrior by T. Rex and slipped out the first record from its sheath. As she set up the music, she couldn’t remember where she’d even gotten the record but for some reason it had called to. She skipped over Mambo Sun, the first track, though, and had it play Cosmic Dancer first. It was calming to her, she swayed a bit to the soothing beat and then climbed into her bed. Staring at the ceiling, she wondered about when her life had gotten so complicated. The rhythm in the music and the exhausting thought material lulled her to sleep as the afternoon sun washed her room a perfect golden from behind her shade.

When she woke up again, it was midnight and she was starving. The record had stopped spinning hours ago, she hadn’t even gotten through side A. It was forgotten as she made her way to her kitchen, groggily.

After settling on cereal and an alcoholic seltzer for dinner, she was really in the mood to treat herself, she made her way back to her living space. On the couch, she tucked her legs beneath herself and spooned the sugary food into her mouth. She had only soy milk in the place because she didn’t like cow’s milk and it didn’t keep when she was gone for extended periods of time. Then as she sipped from the black cherry White Claw, she dug her hand into the cushion next to her. Her hand reemerged with her discarded phone from earlier. She decided it was reasonable to go on it now.

More messages from various people in her life and hundreds of social media notifications. She was going to ignore social media for as long as she possibly could. Four missed calls. 2 voicemails. Styles Harry. Why she kept contacts backwards in her phone was unimportant, it’s just what she did.

She sighed and took a bigger sip of the barely alcoholic drink. Then clicked the voicemail notifications and pressed the first one on speaker as she began to read his texts as well. Then the next voicemail. She checked the time in California, it was still a reasonable part of the day there so instead of texting back she rang him.

“Hello?”

“Har- H. Hi.”

“Y/N! Are you alright?” The concern apparent in his tone. She was taken aback. He hadn’t necessarily sounded angry in his texts or voicemails, but she just assumed he was being courteous since it was a live conversation.

“You’re not mad at me?”

“No! Why would I be?”

“Because I just had my ass handed to me by Jeff earlier.” She slightly mumbled and shrugged, still upset with how she had been spoken to by Jeff.

“Oh gosh, I told him not to be harsh. It’s honestly not a big deal. I thought it was fine, you texted me too!”

“Yeah, well apparently wearing your clothes means we’re dating and that’s not cool in the world’s eyes,” you scoff.

“I know how much you like that coat...I thought you looked great in it, too.” He finishes in a slight whisper, not wanting to be overheard.

“Harry…” you can’t keep the smile off your face. It was a cute compliment even if the situation wasn’t ideal. “Why do your fans have to be so smart and know there’s only two of those coats in the world and I don’t own the other one.”

He laughs, blushing at how you said his name. This time not using his nickname didn’t bother him, it felt even more intimate somehow.

He rubs a hand through his hair, “I know, pesky little devils, gotta love’em, though”

She hums, not sure if she can agree about loving them right now since they’re probably eating her alive all over social media.

“So you’re alright, darling?” He asks again.

“Mhmm,” she pauses at the pet name, it was soothing right now. All she wanted was to curl into his chest, but he was half a world away, quite literally. His words would have to do in his absence. “I’m really glad you’re not mad at me, H. That would’ve made this a hundred times worse.”

He huffs, wishing he could be with her to comfort her. He hated this part of his life. A friend couldn’t borrow a piece of his clothing without everyone assuming that they were seeing each other. It was disgusting and it made him dislike tabloids and social media even more than he already did.

“Trust me. I’d never be mad at you, pet. And I’d definitely never be mad at you for looking good as fuck in my clothes.”

“Shut up!” She squeals, his tone turning from earnest to teasing in one breath. He cackles on the other end of the line because despite her mean words, he could hear the smile on her lips.

“When are you flying back to London?” Her voice grows quiet again after she takes another sip of her drink.

“Thursday,” he almost whispers back, having contained his mirth again.

“We have some work to do on your Graham Norton and Jingle Bell Ball outfits. The listening party ones are all picked up -”

“Y/N,” Harry cuts her off, “It’s late for you, go to bed. Try not to stress out too much, we’ll talk when I’m back about work. For now, take a few days off to not think about my clothes.”

She sighs, “Thanks, H. You’re right. Have a good rest of your day.”

“Goodnight, m’love.”

She ends the phone call and chalks the almost ‘my’ sounding syllable that she heard before love was just her tired mind and Harry’s mumbling voice. It most certainly wasn’t.

After a restful few days of doing absolutely nothing, something rare for Y/N, she was extremely well rested. So much so that she was peacefully asleep when Harry let himself into her flat since they had agreed to meet at her place when he got back to London. As much as he wanted her to take time off and not over work herself, his schedule was a busy one and now that he was back, they had work to do.

Inside her flat, he was greeted with silence. He made his way to her bedroom at the back of the flat. He’d been here a handful of times. She always told him she preferred to spread out when she worked and Harry’s was the place for that. The door to the bedroom was slightly ajar and he pushed it open slowly with his ring clad hand. His black nails are freshly painted and shiny, no chips. Still in her bed, Y/N shifted around softly. He smiled to himself, taking in how the room smelled over lavender and how she had pink floral sheets. He walked to the window and raised the shade, hoping to have her wake up without and coaxing from him.

“H,” her voice mumbles into her pillow and he thinks she’s woken up. His face turns to look at her, but her eyes are still closed and she looks completely asleep. He wonders if she’s trying to trick him, but then she mumbles again.

“Mhhh, tha’ tickles,” and she giggles. He kind of grimaces, feeling like he shouldn’t be hearing this. He hadn’t known she spoke in her sleep, it was sweet, but with the context right now, he thought him having this knowledge might not sit well with her.

“Y/N,” he says loudly, before clearing his throat. Her eyes shoot wide and she sits up, dropping the sheet she had been snuggling.

“Harry! Oh my god!”

“Meeting, remember?”

“Oh my god,” she glances around her surroundings, Harry still standing at her window. “What time is it?”

“1 pm. We said 1 right?”

“We did, I just...I don’t know what happened. Sorry, give me a second. I’m out of it.”

When she emerged from her room, dressed and ready for the day, Harry had brewed a pot of coffee with her machine that she really only had for guests.

“Sorry again,” she sits at her countertop, searching for her notebook in her bag.

“No worries,” then he leans across the countertop, “Seemed like you were in the middle of a nice dream.”

His brows are raised as she avoids his gaze. She flushes easily, “I- it was...just one of those usual dreams.”

“You have dreams about me often?”

“I didn’t say that!” Her eyes shoot up to meet his and he grins. He takes a sip of his coffee before speaking again.

“I heard you say ‘H’.”

She rolls her eyes, “That proves nothing.”

They both stare at each other for a minute, not talking or moving. Harry is simply grinning at her as she twitches her hand with her pen in it now. Her eyes are trying to figure out what Harry’s getting at, searching his expression for how he feels about knowing she dreams of him. She certainly wasn’t going to get into it with him, even if he did continue prodding.

“Alright,” she begins when he doesn’t seem to want to press it further. “Oh!” She jumps up, dropping her pen and forgetting about whatever else she was going to say. “Your jacket! And shirt! I cleaned the shirt and the jacket…” She runs out of the room to go to her front closet where she had hung up both the jacket and the shirt.

Returning, she holds them out to Harry and he rounds the countertop to look at them.

“Perfect shape,” he admires the spotless shirt and his beloved jacket. He puts them on the back of the chair that was next to them. “Won’t forget my jacket again.”

She smiles sheepishly, thinking back to Jeff’s conversation with her. Harry notices her change in demeanor and takes one of her hands. Her eyes flash up to his face and her body tenses, he feels it even in her hand.

“Have you gone on any social media since you’ve been home?” His eyes are wide as he runs his thumb over the back of her hand.

She softens slightly, “Oh yeah, after the first day I decided to check. Most were funny and sweet, their nasty comments didn't get to me.”

Her eyes are big on her face and Harry watches as her worries and concerns all wash through the swirling colors in them. He wants to take all of that pain away and just stare into her abyss forever.

“What did Jeff say exactly?” He knows that’s what she’s alluding to. Harry loved his manager, but when he had called him about the jacket incident he had been pretty short with Harry and hadn’t given much information on his chat with Y/N. The way she looked right now bothered him because ultimately Harry was in charge of Y/N in his employment of her and if Jeff had acted like her superior in a way that was harmful he’d be downright upset.

Her eyes grow glassy immediately and Harry’s anger begins to bubble in the pit of his stomach. She tries to blink anything away, but fails.

“I don’t know why I’m crying, it wasn’t terrible. It’s just, all my life, I’ve had to work to be taken seriously because of who I am and I hate when I get talked down to by a man. Especially over a stupid fucking publicity thing for you. Like I’m sorry, but I don’t see you as a public figure where I have to worry about every goddamn thing I do messing up your image.” She pauses, taking a deep breath, realizing she’d gotten really worked up as she spoke. The tears running down her face more in anger than sadness. Harry watches on, letting her work through her thought process. “He was just so mean… for what?” She whispers finally.

“Oh god…darling,” Harry grips her hand more firmly. He wants to take her in his arms, but he’s not sure if that’s what’s best for her right now, so he just keeps holding her hand. She stares up at him, blowing a piece of hair out of her face. Her eyes now tinted a light red.

“I’m sorry he spoke to you in that way. That isn’t his job at all, I’ll definitely talk to him since I didn’t have the full story before. He gets very worried about the media perception thing, especially right now with the album.”

She bites the inside of her cheek, blinking up at Harry. “I know your image is important, too, otherwise why the fuck would I be here? Right? I just don’t think it’s that big of a deal I borrowed the jacket.”

“In a perfect world my image wouldn’t matter at all,” Harry sighed, “Fame is a stupid, fickle thing musicians like me get stuck with.”

“Please, you love the attention,” she teases, poking at his chest. The sweatshirt he wore wrinkling under her touch.

“‘M serious,” he insists, “I’m saying it shouldn’t matter that you borrowed my jacket, but sadly it comes across to the rest of the world like I’m dating you.” He pokes her sternum in return.

“And that would be the end of the world?” she smiles, her tone still teasing, but that worry is back and swimming in her eyes again.

This time, though, Harry must not see it because he laughs and lets go of her hand. “For a lot of people, I think it might be.”

She bites at her lip and tries to contain the laugh that bubbles in her. He was right and as he wandered back into the kitchen for more coffee, she shook her head trying to rid herself of those pesky feelings that had been hoping for a different answer.

The next few weeks go off without a hitch. Harry’s outfits look incredible for the listening parties. Then for the Graham Norton Show, the Jingle Bell Ball, and the One Night Only at the Forum. Every single outfit is received with praise and everything seems to be coming up Harry Styles. Y/N has been traveling to most of his appearances, making sure everything is in order before he goes out. She’s always by his side before he walks out into the public eye. Taking his picture and saving it in the lookbook that keeps growing, smoothing over his lapels, either unbuttoning or buttoning a middle button when she thought he had too many or not enough undone for the look. Whatever it was, she was there for him.

Then, after his appearances, they would debrief. Debriefs really were just time that Harry carved out in his schedule to just be alone with Y/N. Sure, they talked about clothes, that’s how they had first connected, but it always turned to other ideas. They’d talk about his songs and she’d ask about the meanings that he wouldn’t share with the rest of the world. He’d happily tell her about it and they enjoyed that time together. There were stolen glances and lingering touches, but at the end of the day they were professionals who were friends. It wasn’t maybe what either of them wanted, but they weren’t unhappy.

Harry just got back from Los Angeles after filming for his Ellen show appearance and he was set to play the Bowery Ballroom tomorrow in London. After this there was going to be a lot of downtime on Harry’s schedule because of the holidays. He had marked out almost a whole month of time off, at least from appearances. They still had to start planning tour outfits and finalize the outfits for the events after the break. Right now, all she was focused on was getting Harry into the beautiful yellow Gucci suit that was a twin of the Watermelon Sugar suit he had worn on Saturday Night Live. Harry said he wanted to check the suit before tomorrow for some reason, so Y/N had made her way over.

She finished buttoning the sleeves of the jacket and stepped back to admire Harry once again. No matter what he wore he always looked marvelous in her eyes. She’d argue anyone could say that about Harry though. He could pull anything off and make it his own with barely any effort.

Today, his hair was disheveled and mused from his plane ride back into London. The flight from California to England was a rough one, even when you traveled in the type of luxury Harry did. Despite his tired body and eyes, the suit looked stunning on him. He wore it without shoes and she giggled when she saw his feet. His feet tattoos never failed to make her laugh and she had no explanation for why.

While Harry looked good in everything, there actually was something a little off with the suit right now. Normally, it hugged him just right to make him look perfectly muscled and defined, but it seemed to be hanging a little looser in some areas.

She tapped a finger to her lip, looking him over, unsure of what was off.

“Did you lose weight, H?”

“Huh?” He looks down at himself and somewhat notices the looser fit, but wasn’t quite sure if he had lost weight. “Don’t think so.”

She hums and steps closer to him, dropping her hands to tug at various parts of the suit, trying to figure out whether she should take anything in or leave it be.

“It’s probably all the travel I’ve been doin’. Can be draining me more than I realize.” He ponders as she continues to work silently over the suit.

Her hands travel beneath the suit and encircle his waist, almost as if she’s hugging him, but not really. His stomach flexes at the contact, her chest pressed softly against his. She grips a bit of the shirt from the back and then unfolds herself from him to look at the mirror. The shirt is now taut against his sternum and pectorals under the coat. She tilts her head, silently asking him his opinion.

“I think it’s fine the way it is, honestly.”

“Okay,” she nods and releases her hold on the shirt, hand slithering out from beneath his coat. He exhales deeply through his nose. “Make sure you eat properly tonight.” She says before beginning to pack up her things, done for the day. Harry begins to undress himself.

She turns back to face him as he hands her the jacket and shirt, her eyes run over the length of his torso, both for the sake of checking on his health and for other purely selfish reasons. All the tattoos still remained where they always were when she saw him like this. It never got old, his beautiful body. He didn’t even need clothes to look good. She blinks back to reality when the fabric comes in contact with her hand.

“Make sure you treat yourself this holiday season, you deserve it, H. And it seems like any weight you ever gain is muscle anyways, so you don’t exactly have to worry around the sweets table.”

Harry laughs heartily as he slips on his long sleeve shirt he was wearing. Then he starts on the pants as she turns away again to hang up the top parts of the suit.

Finally, she adds when he hands her the suit pants, “Just don’t want you overworking yourself, seriously, H.”

He looks at her as he buttons up his baggy blue jeans. The outfit he wore was just the first clean things he had grabbed when he had gotten home. His green eyes turn serious after the mirthfilled last few moments.

He crosses to her side as she puts away the clothes in the garment bag. His hand lands softly on her shoulder and she turns to him at his touch. “I know. You’re so good to me, darling. Always making sure I’m taking care of myself…”

It’s quiet. The soft breeze in the London air outside barely whispers around the house. Harry’s voice was laced with love, even if it wasn’t his intention. His ‘thank you’ was piercing into her heart and his touch wasn’t helping her stay focused. Her breath caught in her throat when she felt Harry take a step closer to her, his head ducking slightly down to her level. Then, right on the edge of her left temple and her hairline, his soft lips pressed against her skin. They brushed against her for just a moment, lingering for the respectful amount of time. But all she wanted was anything but respectful. She wanted his lips pressed against hers, she wanted his hands in her hair, yanking her deeply into him. She wanted to scream when he pulled away, but she didn’t. She smiled warmly up at Harry and her eyelashes fluttered on their own accord like a schoolgirl with a crush.

“Thank you,” he whispers again.

“What would you do without me?” She pushes at him playfully, shaking off her giddiness. Then she turns back to her work, scooping up all the items of hers on the table.

“Probably have to walk around naked, huh?”

“Oh my god!” She laughs and starts for the door, Harry follows behind to walk to her out to her car. “Maybe I should quit! People would love it.” She continues laughing as she hangs the garment in the passenger's seat side.

“No thank you, please,” Harry hurriedly says.

She turns to him as she closes the door and leans against the car. This was their routine right before she left, a final chat against the car before she drove off for the night.

“Tomorrow’s going to be amazing, H. It’s gonna be electric!” She scrunches her nose slightly at the pun about the venue as she smiles up at him.

He sticks his tongue into the side of his cheek, holding back a laugh. His eyes narrow at her, slyly. “Very funny.”

She only winks at him before pushing herself off of her car and walks to the driver’s side of the car.

He waves as she begins to pull out of the driveway and she flashes him a peace sign and a mouthed ‘Bye’ when she turns onto the street.

After the Bowery Ballroom show, Y/N barely sees Harry at the after party. She doesn’t worry about it too much. His management was going to have a holiday party next week before the little break began for the team. So, she knew she’d see him before she flew back to see her family for the holidays. She was going home for two weeks and then would be back for New Year’s and then would get back to work after that.

She saw Harry exactly twice after the show. First, she saw Harry right after the show and he was all sweaty and exhilarated. He tackled her in a bear hug with such strength she would have fallen back if he hadn’t been holding her so tightly. When he pulled away, he placed two extremely slobbery kisses on her cheeks and she laughed, tipping her head back in pure bliss. Then he was pulled away by Jeff to change and get ready for the after party.

Jeff had apologized over text about the tone he had taken over the whole jacket thing, but only Harry had told him to. It was fine with Y/N, she told him that too, but she just never felt like being around him for very long if she could help it after that. That’s why she liked that most of her job entailed dealing with Harry directly. If she had to go through Jeff for everything she’d likely pull her hair out. He was still short with her at whole team meetings and not necessarily courteous when they were around each other casually. Like she said, it was fine, she just didn’t make it her business to be around Jeff.

The second time she saw Harry was around half past one am. She was pretty sure it was time for her to uber home and she wanted to say goodbye to Harry. Her well-liquored body stumbled around the big room. Deciding to take shots with the band had gotten her to where she was now and she wasn’t complaining she was happy. She was in a celebratory mood and wanted to see Harry right now. Tell him how much fun she had and how proud she was of him. How much she loved him… Hopefully she kept that part to herself.

“Harry!” She finally exclaims, coming upon a group of people surrounding the star himself. She ignored the rest of the people, likely stars too, but she really couldn’t care less. One of them tried to straighten up as if he was going to block her from Harry, feeling like she maybe wasn’t someone Harry wanted to see since they didn’t know her. No one seemed to ever recognize Y/N as Harry’s stylist when it mattered. Harry waved them off, a little drunk as well, but obviously recognizing Y/N.

“Darling!” He exclaims and raises his arms out to her. She grips onto him quickly and snuggles into him happily. With her still in his arms, he turns them from the prying eyes of the group he had been with.

She raises her head from his warm chest so that her lips are near his ear, “Congratulations, Mr. Styles.”

“Thanks, baby,” he purrs into her ear, his voice coarse and low, carrying over the music. She giggles at the nickname, her entire plan going out the metaphorical window.

Her fingers smooth up over the fabric on his chest, a nice short sleeve silk button down that was tucked into dark high waisted trousers - they’d picked it out last week. One of her fingers begins to trace around his collarbone after she reaches the opening of the shirt. His eyes flutter shut at the contact. They were so needy for each other. Each touch would coarse heat through them every time.

“I’m going…” She says after a moment of silence between them. The party was raging around them, most not paying any mind to the two of them off in their own world.

“Don’t go,” Harry practically begs. A hand flies up to pet over the top of her hair and she smiles even wider.

“It’s late and I’m tired,” she makes a face in response to Harry’s pout, “You have lots of people to entertain, Mr. Styles.” Her teeth capture her bottom lip as she stares at him intently.

He groans and pulls her closer. This time his lips brush right against her ear and she wants to shiver, but he keeps her in place. “If you keep calling me that, you’re gonna drive me insane.”

Her eyes widen but her hazy mind isn’t processing all of what is going on. She barely takes inventory of ‘baby’, for him to say she’s turning him on without actually saying it. Tomorrow Y/N would have to deal with that one.

She pulls back from him, creating space between their chests, but he still holds her waist close to him. She leans up and places a kiss on the corner of his lips. It’s technically supposed to be a kiss on the cheek but if she had moved her lips a millimeter to the right they would have been on Harry’s. This gesture has his grip tightening on her, but she pulls away.

“Goodnight!” She sings as she bounces out of sight, wiggling her fingers in a wave before completely being gone.

Harry sighs and runs a hand over his face, kind of in shock of the last five minutes. He had liked it. He just hadn’t expected it. When he turns his attention back to the group that was behind him, it’s not the same as it was before. Jeff looks at him with narrowed eyes and Harry’s eyes go wide and his grin widens as well.

Tonight is the management holiday party for Harry’s team. Y/N and Harry had seen each other two days after the Electric Ballroom to debrief, but mostly to get brunch. They didn’t talk about the little teases they shared at the after party. Both of them just assumed that the other probably didn’t remember and didn’t want to go through the trouble and embarrassment of recounting it. Alcohol has that effect of making you a little bolder than you actually are.

Brunch with Harry solidified Y/N’s thoughts on fame. Celebrity could be so strange, because there was the one day when she got photographed with just Harry’s jacket on and there was speculation of dating, but then she could go out to brunch with him and not be bothered at all. It made absolutely no sense.

Anyway, tonight there were no gifts, but Y/N had gotten Harry something even though he said he never needs anything. She hoped she’d be able to give it to him after they were walking back to their transportation since she wanted it to be a surprise and not have everyone know she gave him a gift. It wasn’t a big deal - or maybe it was - it was just an item she knew Harry had been fawning over. It was so him and she knew he’d probably end up buying it for himself eventually, but it felt nice to be able to give him something for once. Price didn’t matter. Still, she was a little nervous and tucked and re-tucked it several times in the back seat of her car before heading inside.

It was a restaurant his management had rented out for their party. She gave her name and headed inside. The lighting was overly dimmed and it smelled like expensive alcohol and delicious food. It was everything an A-list singer deserved as a celebration. She never could fully grasp that the Harry she had gotten to know as her friend was also the same Harry that the entire world was infatuated with, for good reason. He was charming in the best way, terribly sincere, insanely talented, and all around a good human being. She knew that, it just surprised her that everyone else knew it too. There was just that disconnect for her that she shared him with the rest of the world.

Her high heeled heels brought her to the backroom of the restaurant. They managed to shimmer even in the dim light. She had gone for winter chic with a sequin and mesh white dress, that looked like fresh snow with a cream and blue swirling design on the under layer so that her undergarments weren’t showing through. It was like a modern ice princess look that was finished with her heels that had sparkles on the entire back of them. Her hair was down and her makeup a little more done up than usual. She used a light blue eyeshadow to imitate ice and added some rhinestones on the inner parts of her eyes. She may have watched a Euphoria-inspired makeup look tutorial on youtube and she wasn’t afraid to admit that.

The scene she came upon was what she expected. Lots of men in suits and a good amount of women in power suits too. The people in any interesting clothes were Harry and his band. Some of the business people’s partners were dressed up more but it all wasn’t too exciting. Plus, Harry’s famous friends group hadn’t shown up yet. Y/N hid her disappointment easily, not surprised about the lack of flavor she saw in the style. She just repeated the mantra her mother had always told her: “You can never be overdressed, only underdressed.” It stuck with her always and made her go for those bolder styles when she needed to.

Harry was there, sipping on a glass of water. She figured he might not want to get started on drinking so early in the evening. Tonight didn’t feel like a drinking night for her either. After the last big party, she had woken up with a massive hangover and a few memories that she wished she hadn’t made. She wasn’t planning on repeating that series of events.

As she goes to grab a glass of water on the large table, she gets a tap on her shoulder. She spins.

“Happy Holidays, darling!”

Her eyes widen and her smile immediately grows. Harry grins back at her, his mouth open in the perfect winning smile of his and his eyes twinkling with happiness.

“Happy Holidays to you too, Mr.-” She stops herself, remembering back to the last party, “H.” She finishes firmly after clearing her throat. Harry’s grin turns to a wicked knowing smirk.

“I’m happy you came! I know you’re not super connected to all of the groups here, Harry Lambert is around somewhere though and I know he’s been wanting to talk with you about clothes.”

Harry watches as her eyes shine even brighter when he mentions the other stylist. It was true, Y/N didn’t really mesh with any of the groups that worked around Harry. The stylist kind of stood alone in regards to where she fit into his life, not the business part, not the band part, not the crew, and not the other celebrities. Harry Lambert and other fashion people didn’t always come to these events so it was seldom that Y/N had her own people to talk to. Not that mingling was hard for her, he just knew she didn’t like to do that as much so whenever another stylist or designer was there he always made sure to introduce them - if they weren’t already acquainted.

“That’s amazing! I haven’t seen him in ages… I’ll have to get his opinion on how I’ve been doing.”

Harry licks his lips as he laughs a little at her comment. She looked beautiful tonight and he wanted to tell her.

“Harry. What the hell are you wearing?” Her eyes flash as she takes in his appearance.

He looks down at himself and then back at her confused. They hadn’t picked the outfit out, but he thought it looked nice.

“Obviously not the suit! On your head?”

“Oh. It’s a gift from Mitch and Sarah.” He pauses to reach up to play with the headband sat on top of his curls. “It’s mistletoe and it seems like you’re standing beneath it. You know what that means,” he toys with it as he wiggles his eyebrows.

She scoffs sarcastically, looking to the side for a means of escape, “No way.”

“C’mon! It’s tradition!” He steps forward playfully and she places a hand on his chest.

“You can kiss my cheek.” She says finally and Harry looks at her disapprovingly.

He wags a finger at her with his free hand, “You’re the one under the mistletoe, you have to kiss me.”

“Okay that’s definitely not how this works! Now you don’t get any kiss at all, you cheeky bastard.”

“Fine. But don’t come crying to me when you’re the one with coal in your stocking.”

“Haha.” Her eyes once again roll to the side as she pushes him back and he steps back like she actually had a strong push. Then they both actually laugh and she gives him a quick side hug with a whispered, “there”. Harry smiles down at her, but it falters slightly when she’s already pulling away. He wanted her at his side the entire night, but sadly that wasn’t reality.

She drags him around the restaurant in search of Harry Lambert since the party had started to grow and she needed his height to get her where she wanted to go. Maybe. Or maybe she just liked the way he held her hand to lead her through the crowd that was most definitely not dense enough for her to have to hold on to him to stay with him at all.

She sees more of Harry at this party. They have some good conversations about plans for the holidays and snickering about who was already too drunk even though it wasn’t even midnight. She can’t believe he keeps on the stupid headband all night, giving and receiving various types of kisses from every person he talks to. Some are kisses on the cheek, others are friendly smooches on the mouth. Thankfully all of them are those cute little pecks that friends always tend to share, otherwise Y/N might have had to excuse herself and leave early. Jealous little thing.

As the night dragged on, she began to question herself on that front. Why was she growing jealous when friends would kiss Harry. She could've kissed Harry. She practically did the other week. But now, after refusing him a mistletoe kiss and seeing everyone else do what she didn’t have the courage to do, she felt childish. Well, childish or not, she knew why she couldn’t kiss him. Kissing Harry wouldn’t be just a friend thing for her. It would mean a lot more and if it was just a friend thing for him she wouldn’t be sure if she could handle going on with their working relationship after. Her job was the most important thing in her life. Being a stylist, loving clothes, and working on personal designs for the future was her life. Giving up this prestigious of a job was out of the question. Maybe the idea of being with Harry had crossed her mind, but she didn’t know how it could ever be realistic. If they got together could she keep her job? Would she have to quit? And find a new one? There were too many unknowns for her to ever actually entertain it. That’s why they went to the edge so often, she always would back away and she was sure that if she didn’t, Harry would for her.

He knew her. He knew her passion, he watches it firsthand everyday they work together. Even when they’re not working he can see her mind forming different ideas just based off of the things she sees people wear on the streets. He watches her fingers fiddle over her phone, typing out notes for design ideas and screenshotting inspiration. So every time they went to the edge of changing their relationship, he knew he couldn’t push it because he never wanted to hurt her or her dreams in some way. She was too important to him to simply mess that up. Even if it hurt him.

So when Harry slides in the back of her car that night at 2 am because Y/N says she has something important to show him, he’s fully ready to stop their flirting from going any further. And when she tells him she needs to show him something, she has the most pure intentions when she pulls out the nicely wrapped box, its wrapping paper a swirling lavender pattern that’s really not festive at all, but she prefers it.

He looks between her and the box that she’s now placed in his lap. His green eyes flickering even in the darkness of the car, the city lights illuminating the backseat enough for them.

“You know I don’t need anything…” He fiddles with the skinny mesh ribbon neatly tied around the box.

She makes a little gesture, pushing him to open the present, “I know, but I also know you’ve been wanting this and you deserve it.”

He unwraps the paper to reveal a Gucci box and he rolls his eyes at her, but smiles genuinely as he lifts the top of the box off. It reveals a 1955 Horsebit Shoulder Bag in beautiful shiny black leather. It’s gorgeous.

“I can’t...I don’t know what to say,” Harry’s eyes are huge as his delicate hands ghost over the bag's details. He had been wanting it and he hadn’t gotten the courage to buy it yet. He liked purses, but sometimes he even had his doubts about what he could pull off.

His eyes go back to her and she smiles widely at him, all her teeth on display because she’s just that happy. “This is a really expensive bag, Y/N.”

“If it makes you feel better I can charge it as a wardrobe expense, but then it’s not really a gift from me,” She sighs at his unrelenting gaze.

“Thank you.” He touches at the bag again and then does a dance in his spot. “And don’t worry, I will always remember this as a gift from you. I love it.”

She smiles and leans over the box to look at the bag, admiring the beauty of it as well. “It’s pretty great.”

“Mhmm,” Harry hums and she raises her eyes, seeing his trained on her face. “You’re under the mistletoe again, darling,” he smirks.

Her breath stops once again, how could he do that to her so easily? Their eyes stay locked under the city lights. The fake mistletoe bobs above them still connected to the silly headband. It’s colorful leaves and fun stripes mock her when she flicks her gaze up to it for a moment. Then back to Harry. Harry who’s holding the gift she just gave him. Harry who looks beautiful tonight. Harry who is her favorite person in the world to spend time with.

Now. Now is when she pulls back from the ledge. This is when she takes a step back and stops herself. When Harry laughs it off. When she pushes him away. When they go about the rest of their day like that electricity hadn’t gone up either of their spines.

But that’s not what happens. Instead, she nods in agreement and then crashes her lips against Harry’s. It’s not like those friend kisses that had happened with him all night under that same mistletoe. It’s hard and hot and fast. Her lips are pressed to his for one searing moment and then she’s biting his lip, desperate to taste more of him. She had been longing for this for so long and now that she had it, she couldn’t let it go.

Harry’s hands fly to her cheeks as he pulls her closer, more into his lap. He pushes the box into the front area of the car blindly. The gift was completely forgotten. This was a far more important matter. Her lips were wet and plush and they tasted like the single Manhattan she had halfway through the night and vanilla lip gloss. When she bites his lip, he can’t hold back the moan inside his throat and she presses her tongue into his mouth quickly. He was her oasis and she had been traveling for months. He responds with similar vigor, enjoying the way her body presses to his in the backseat of this little car.

They kiss for as long as they can. Licking, sucking, and biting each other’s lips to taste as much as they can. But it’s just kissing. Neither of them work to travel anywhere else. Their lips are seemingly enough. Each press of their lips communicates what they had been longing for. It’s euphoric.

When the windows start to fog and her eyes open for a random moment, she realizes they need to cool whatever this is.

“H-Harry,” She gulps for a breath of air and she tries to get his attention. “I gotta get home.”

“Come back to my place,” he mumbles into her collarbone, happily licking over his love bite.

She laughs and swallows slowly, “That is definitely out of the question, I have a flight tomorrow.”

He removes his mouth from her and straightens up. His lips are even brighter pink than usual and perfectly puffy. His hair disheveled from her hands. She blushes at the thought.

“Right, forgot about that,” he opens the car door and they both slide out. They stand at her car, just like they usually did outside his house. However this time is quite different from most.

They sigh heavily, in unison. The winter air is cold in London. She shivers slightly and knows she can’t stay in his presence much longer.

“Merry Christmas, H.”

He leans down and places one last sweet kiss to her lips. She wrinkles her nose and smiles unabashedly.

“Merry Christmas, Darling.”

Harry and her don’t talk as much while she’s back home for the holidays. There’s no work to be discussed and while they parted on not necessarily bad terms, there was definitely a conversation that needed to be had between the two. Neither seemed to want to have that conversation over the phone, or worse, text. So for the next week and a half, Harry and Y/N exchanged texts of funny memes that reminded them of each other and odd anecdotes from family members that had made them laugh. Nothing really substantial, just small, I was thinking of you messages.

When she walked out of the luggage carousel at London Heathrow Airport, she expected to be getting in the queue for an uber. Instead, before she could cross the street to get to the queue even, a tall man stopped her. A tall, scruffy, extremely buff, extremely handsome, and extremely kissable man. Harry. It would be terribly strange if it was anyone else.

“Excuse me, ma’am, do you need a lift back to your flat?” His dark sunglasses cover his face and a big coat, scarf, and hat make him hardly recognizable. The curls sticking out from beneath the cute knit scarf are thankfully a dead give away for her. As well as his perfect drawling voice.

She shivered in the cold, her matching grey sweatpants and Treat People With Kindness sweatshirt had been warm enough on the flight, but proved inadequate for almost January in London. Yet, Harry’s presence brings a smile to her face.

“It’s good to see you, H.”

He laughs, his cover obviously blown. His arms encircle her body and she instantly melts into his embrace. His large coat easily fell around her and warmed her. His own natural body heat adds to her new found warmth as well.

“You too,” he murmured. His head buries into the crook of her neck, warming her cold skin.

He pulls back after a rather long embrace, realizing they’re still out on the sidewalk. He takes one step back and she visibly deflates at his absence, the cold once again surrounding her.

“Let’s get you home,” he grabs at the handle of her suitcase in one hand and her hand in the other. The warmth returns and she grins, placated by his touch.

“So are you coming to my party tonight?” He inquires once he settles into the driver’s seat after putting her suitcase in the back.

She shifts in her seat, arms wrapped tightly around herself, still cold without any warmth from Harry or the car. “Don’t you suppose there was a reason why I chose to come home today?”

Harry’s ears perk at the use of home, never assuming Y/N viewed London as her home, still it made him smile.

As the car purrs to life, heat immediately seeping out of the seats and vents, Harry’s phone connects as well. NFWMB by Hozier begins to play softly and she glances at Harry again. The song was so sultry and soft, like expensive dark chocolate melting on your tongue. The mood in the car seemed to shift. Their eyes met, Harry’s green ones narrowing at her, trying to decipher the look she was giving to him.

Then he drove off, softly singing along to the words through the sleepy streets. It was surprisingly quiet out for the holidays, people choosing to lay low during the day so they could celebrate the changing of decades in full force tonight.

After the song ends, his eyes travel over to her again and she’s already looking at him. She had missed his face. Sure, he’d sent some silly selfies while she was gone. Mostly on Christmas Eve with his family when he had gotten drunk on mulled wine and eggnog and brandy. Still, in person, he was even more beautiful. The high cheek bones that glistened with a shine most makeup could only hope to produce. Full raspberry lips with stubble growing to frame above and below. The crinkles growing on his forehead and by his eyes that showed him aging with grace. The precious few moles that had gotten lucky enough to live on his face forever. His big green eyes that were consistently bright with interest and intellect, but deep and knowing despite his loving demeanor. She loved those big green eyes, they were just so big and she didn’t understand how no one took the same interest in them as her. All of it, just sitting there beside her. Don’t even get her started on the soul that inhabited the beautiful man beside her. She never would stop spiraling then.

“What?” He asks softly, the sounds of Paul McCartney during some era fading in.

She blinks, hazily in admirance, “Nothing,” she replies.

“What?” He insists, laughing slightly, the lips she loves so much widening in excitement.

“Just missed you.”

Her voice is quiet but strong, serious. A blush creeps up his neck, taking hold of his features.

“Missed you too,” his left hand reaches across the console to take hold of her hand that resided on her thigh. He squeezes her hand softly and they both smile at each other again.

“Don’t worry, I can get my stuff upstairs. I don’t want you being out in the cold any longer than you have to. I’ll see you tonight, H!” She pushes her body across the console and places a kiss on his cheek before jumping out of the car. Harry makes a half smile, knowing he can’t change her mind. He waves to her behind the window as she travels into her building.

“See you.” He says to himself before driving back to his home to finish up preparing for tonight’s festivities. The party was going to be more intimate than the Christmas party at the restaurant. Tonight was just Harry’s family and closest friend - the band, Jeff and his family, Y/N, and a few others.

The whole night Harry and Y/N are within a foot of each other, if not on top of each other. He never leaves her side nor does she his. They are tethered to one another. The longest they’re apart is when Harry gets them refills of Champagne and Y/N journeys to the restroom. They laugh and catch up.

As the night goes on, Harry begins to whisper sweet nothings in her ear and she giggles and places her hand on his chest flirtily. Their interaction is a dance, bedroom eyes and low voices, lingering touches and suggestive lip bites.

When the countdown begins to grow closer, everyone refills their drinks and gathers in the center of Harry’s living room. They cheer and countdown to 2020. And of course, Y/N’s by Harry’s side as he begins the count. And when they get to ‘one’ and everyone’s saying “Happy New Year”, Harry and her are sharing a chaste peck to the lips that electrifies everything they had been saying to each other all night. She sighs into his mouth, but pulls away quickly, aware of their surroundings. No one particularly questions the kiss, either not paying attention or caring. Harry beams down at her and they enjoy the rest of the evening.

At around 1 am, the last of the guests stumble out of Harry’s homes and into waiting ubers and safe rides. Y/N lingers back, beginning to clean the discarded glassware and paper plates. Her and Harry are definitely tipsy, but they enjoy the cleaning work, making terrible jokes about New Year’s and commenting on what people wore tonight. When it’s relatively cleaned in the kitchen, Y/N wanders out to the living room and finds Harry reclined back on the couch.

“H,” She sticks out her foot and nudges him with her boot.

“C’mere,” he reaches out his hand to her, his coat discarded, leaving his arms bare with only a white tank top on.

She takes his hand hesitantly and is yanked on top of Harry in an instant. With a loud huff, she settles above him. “That wasn’t nice.”

“Shush,” his pointer finger goes over her lips, her eyes narrow at him, “Can you believe we’re seeing 2020?”

“Oh my god! I hate you!” She rolls her eyes at his pun and shakes herself from his hand around her waist. She stands up to walk away but he easily grasps her wrist and stops her, easily sitting himself up on the couch.

He looks at her and her annoyance, that wasn’t all too strong in the first place, dissipates. She sighs, “I should probably be heading home.”

“You should stay, it’s so late,” his hand rubbing over the skin on her wrist.

She bites her lip, contemplating the offer, he was right. “I’m really tired and we haven’t really talked, H.”

“But we-”

“Not about us. We’ve been skirting around it, flirting with each other all night, but we haven’t talked about what’s going on. I can’t stay if you expect something from me.”

“I don’t expect anything from you, Y/N. That’s not why I want you to say,” Harry says earnestly, realizing quickly what she’s saying. “I’ve never expected anything from you. An offer to stay is just an offer to stay.”

“Okay,” she finally smiles and sits down beside Harry.

“You can sleep in the guest bedroom, too. If that makes you more comfortable?”

“Oh...I don’t know if we have to take it that far. Plus, you’re like a personal heater and I get cold at night.”

Harry perks up, he had been feeling resigned that maybe she wasn't on the same page as him. He wanted to be with her all the time but also didn’t want to put any pressure on her. She just made him so happy.

“Great! Let’s get to bed then.” He pops up from the couch and brings her into his arms, “You know where all my clothes are, so you can just borrow whatever you want, and then I’m sure I have extra toothbrushes…”

She giggles into his side as she watches him ramble animatedly. Sometimes he was oh so bright, so joyful and carefree. A stark contrast from the quiet confidence he often exhibited for the public.

She woke up in the warm embrace of Harry. His whole bed smelled like him, vanilla mixed with spices of tobacco and sandalwood. It was delicious and she snuggled in deeper to the soft chest she laid against, breathing in his scent deeply.

They rested there for a long time. Harry makes his awakening known with a lingering kiss to her forehead. They both sigh in contentment, radiant in each other’s arms.

“What’s the plan today?” She ponders as Harry’s fingers trace patterns over her skin. He hums in thought.

“Wanna be with you…”

She laughs and looks up at him, “Me too, but we can’t lay around all day.”

“Well, we could.” Harry insists.

She laughs again and twists in his arms, settling so she’s facing him. She bites her lip as she thinks about something, scanning his face over and over.

“I’m gonna go home and get ready for the day. Let’s just explore the city and do some 2020 shopping. Who knows, maybe fashion’s changed since the last decade,” she grins.

Harry chuckles a little and pets at her hair, “I like the sound of that. And we can talk - about us.”

“Mmhmm.”

He tilts his head forward and meets her lips once again, savoring her taste. Each kiss makes him want more. She was good.

Harry lugs in the four heavy shopping bags into her flat, as she carries the single small bag from the chocolatier he had dragged them into. He presses her to the counter when he sets down the bags and begins to kiss her face all over. She giggles and places her hands on his shoulders, giving him a kiss to the lips before pulling away.

They had talked about what they wanted, what they saw in each other and how that fit into their work relationship and the rest of their lives. Harry would have to talk to Jeff, but more so as a by the way this is what I’m doing with my life, not an ask for permission. Y/N would continue as his stylist until the end of the tour cycle, but afterwards she’d go back to freelancing. They wanted to try to date and be as normal as possible. She told him how she didn’t love the fame or the celebrities. Sure she dealt with those things for work, but when they were off duty, she wanted to be regular. She wanted to go out on dates and make dinner on weekend nights. Harry had agreed, he wanted those things too and he understood her wish to keep work and their relationship separate. However, he’d made her concede to allowing kisses during work hours. She had laughed and said it was an easy term to agree to.

It was going to be a good thing. They were both giddy with excitement, the new year, and all the new things they had bought on their relationship high.

“Oh!” She pushed Harry further away from her and hurried into her room. He laughed and looked confusedly after her. “Wait there!” She called. Harry leaned against the back of her upholstered chair.

“Close your eyes!” She says before coming back into the room. Harry’s hands go over his eyes easily as he grins blindly in her direction.

“‘M waiting…”

“Open.”

Harry’s hands slip away and his green eyes blink open. In front of him stands Y/N holding up a hand knit brown sweater vest with horizontal red, cream and blue thin stripes along with the thicker brown stripes. Harry beams, reaching his hands out to take hold of it.

“It was supposed to be a surprise for later, but I found it at this vintage place while I was home and I couldn’t wait any longer to show it to you.”

“Darling, this is gorgeous. I love it! But you shouldn’t have...”

“I thought you could wear it for Lizzo’s concert. I know you said you liked the other sweater vest, but this one is so-”

“You spoil me, seriously.” He cuts her off and laughs before pulling her back into him. Their lips collide in a searing kiss, Harry’s excitement over the new garment making him eager to show her how much he really loved it.

A small sigh escapes her lips as Harry presses into her. His tongue pushing into her mouth in a way that turns the sigh into a moan.

“Let me show you just how much I love it,” He murmurs against her lips, casting the garment onto the back of the chair he had previously been leaning on.

She smiles, eyes fluttering open and meeting his with adoration swelling in their depths. Then she allows him to back their intertwined bodies into her room.

Some apartment in New York a few months later:

“I knew it!”

“Huh?” Aidy lifts her head from the skit she was working on to look at her friend and coworker.

“That stylist...for Harry Styles,” Heidi shifts, sitting up and turning her phone to face Aidy, “She was seen out with him, getting lunch in London and then making out on a street corner. I bet they were dating back in November when he was on the show!”

Aidy laughs, thinking back to her conversation with the stylist that night of Harry’s show. The girl had been so in love that night and Harry had been smitten all week, describing her in the best way, praising her every decision, yearning for her even. And now they were actually together...she was happy for them.

“I don’t know about that...but they were head over Gucci heels for each other that’s for sure.”

Heidi and her scroll through the pictures on social media of the singer and his girlfriend.

“They probably are the best dressed couple I have ever seen,” Heidi grumbles.

“Now that is definitely accurate.”

taglist: @meredithhuntt @sovereigndeadlyperfect @marauderswhisperer @toribentleyva @girlboss99 @harryssunflxwer @loverofaccents @stephaniemalvie @mk15x @beanholland @stfxlou @loliismutt @pinkisawesome101 @stilljosiegrossie @kikisparadise18 @clementimee

#harry styles fanfiction #harry styles x reader #harry styles x you #harry styles fluff #harry styles smut #harry styles angst #harry styles fan fic #harry styles fanfic #harry styles one shot #harry styles oneshot #harrys stylist right?#harry styles x y/n

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sideblogformindtrash · 5 years ago

Text

CW: NSFW no-con, abusive relationship dynamic, reluctant whumper, physical abuse, emotional abuse(?), mentions of death, murder and trauma; grabbing; swearing, screaming; mentions of breaking bones/restraints.

Y’all want more random oc whump with no context? Also this one was supposed to be part of a VN plot that I scrapped bc was nervous about letting people actually see it, so It branches out a lot all the time and I kind of just reunited the pieces I liked more for this part. Sorry it’s long and angst. Also not pet whump, they just have dumb animal codenames ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

…Crow reaches the building reception. It’s darkish in there, as the only light comes from the setting sun. This part of the building does not receive electrical power. Most of The City doesn’t, anwyay. He is about to leave, but notices some movement behind him.

He turns abruptly. Bunny is standing on the base of the stairs. Crow clenches his fists. Bunny is not allowed to leave their apartment. On the other hand, he was one sneaky little bastard. He wouldn’t have noticed him if he hadn’t intentionally made noise.

“What the hell are you doing here? I told you not to leave the apartment.”

“Yeah I… I know.”

“Than what the hell are you standing there for? Run back upstairs before I beat you and drag you there myself.”

“No, just… Just listen.”

Listen. Crow crosses his arm and stares, a face that says ‘better be worth it.’

“You shouldn’t go outside today.”

Bunny is struggling to make sense of his own words. Crow lifts an eyebrow.

“Because…?”

“It’s just… I feel something bad will happen to you if you go out.”

“…And why would you care? I’ve given you plenty of reasons to not give a fuck about my safety. Thought you would be happy if I died, actually”

“NO!” It’s a half scream, as he goes down the last two steps of the staircase “I don’t want anyone to get hurt. I don’t want you to die!”

…He doesn’t want anyone to get hurt. What a fucking joke. When Crow closes his eyes, he can almost see her again, her head cracked open on the pavement. One moment she was there and then… Gone.

“Yeah now you care about us.”

Bunny shakes his head, looking at the floor.

“I never wanted it to end that way.”

“You are a fucking liar, that’s what you are Bunny.”

“It’s not… I didn’t knew. I swear.” Little tears starting to form on the corners of that pretty face “Won’t you ever forgive me?”

“Maybe when you learn to raise up the dead. You are seriously upsetting me. Go back upstairs. Now.”

“No!” He dares “I-I might not be worthy of forgiveness but I am trying to help you now, please.”

“Yeah, sure you are.”

“Please… Can’t you see I just… I want you to be safe?”

“I don’t know? Can’t you see I’m about to punch your stupid face if you don’t get out of here?”

“…Fine. You are right anyway” Bunny clenches his fists and puffs his chest, as if that could make him look threatening. “I do hope you fucking die!”

…He must have noticed the sparkle that lit up Crown’s face, showing that he had gone too far. Immediately he cowered again, and turned to run upstairs. Crow advances like an arrow, covering the distance between the two and blocking his path.

Bunny changes direction before Crow could grab him and tries to run outside. Again, Crow only need a moment to be over him,, this time grabbing his wrist and throwing him against the reception desk.

“N-No! Stop it!”

Bunny tries to push him away, so he punches him on the stomach. He gasps, out of air, but keeps trying to fight. Grabbing him by the hair, Crow pulls his head backwards until he lets out a cry. He tries to claw at Crow’s hands, only to get punched again.

“Just stop struggling, you’ll only make things worse on yourself”

He is mostly immobilized now, and starts to hyperventilate. He pulls his face as far from Crow as he can manage… And gives up, letting his body go limp.

“P-please…”

Crow nuzzles at his neck and runs his tongue through it, giving kisses and bites.

“Crow… Crow don’t…” He tries again “C-Can we just… Later… Please. I’ll… I’ll do it later just not-“

Crow pushes him further against the table and pulls his shirt off. He sobs a bit, while Crow slides his hands down his pants.

“Not like this. Not when you are angry…” sobs “Not just because you want to hurt me.”

Just because you want to hurt him. As if that would make him feel any better. Slowly, Crow lets go of him. They stare at each other for a moment… Bunny pushes Crow and runs out the door.

…Just like that he is gone. Crow pulls his legs closer, into a hug, silently staring, wondering if he should follow. Can’t even feel angry about this just… Numb. After a while, Crow gets back on his feet and lay down on the old sofa of the reception, a cloud of dust lifting once he falls there. Everything is dark and silent now.

He closes his eyes, hoping to dose off and get a break from his thoughts. Maybe he had really gone too far. He tried to remember what it felt like to be the one getting hurt. He had promised his younger self that he would be better than those people. That he would be a hero. What a fucking joke.

He wondered if that was an idea he had brought from the Crystal World. His home. The only thing he had left of that place was a tiny statue of a crow and that stupid City Patch, where he had come from. No one else had ever come from there, he was the only one of his kind. All alone.

Memories of childhood among huge crystal spires, ever-changing colors and cold breeze nurse him to sleep.

The feeling of being watched wakes him up again. Eyes in the dark watching him, Bunny nervously holding his shirt.

“So… You will break my legs now?” He asks, nervously twisting the fabric.

“Huh?”

“…Coyote said I’d have my legs broken if I tried to run away again. That I’d be chained to the wall.”

“Hm. Yeah, no. You came back.”

The first time it happened, Coyote had broken one of his arms. He was by far the most aggressive and vicious of the group. Crow was too angry, too sad and too lost to care, and just let the man do about anything he wanted to Bunny. But nowadays… Well, he was keeping an eye on them so that it wouldn’t go too far.

Crow sighs. He felt apologies were worthless, but…

“I guess you really wanted to help me this time, for some reason. I pushed you to it. I’m… Hm, I’m sorry.”

“I…” Bunny looks down “Thank you.”

Crow signals for Bunny to come closer. Reluctant, he does. Crow pulls Bunny over him. He flinches, but…

“I’m not going to hurt you. Just… Just stay with me. Please.”

Bunny nods, and let’s himself rest on top of Crow, laying his head on the man’s chest, hearing his heart. They both stay together as stars appear on the sky, silence and stillness cover that world like a thick dust.

“Crow?” Bunny says finally “You…. You still want to have sex?”

“That… wasn’t the point. You were right. I only wanted to hurt you.”

“I know…” he sighs “But it’s okay now. I think. Or… are you still angry?”

Bunny lifts his head, Crow pushes away a lock of hair out of the tear-stained face.

“I’m… Always angry I guess. Not at you just… At everything” Crow sighs, not wanting to hold eye contact “You don’t have to do it.”

“… Not being angry… Doesn’t mean you have forgiven me”

He leans his head on Crow chest again, quietly weeping. Crow pets his head. No, he hasn’t. But his forgiveness wasn’t worth much of anything anyways.

“The worst isn’t that you hurt me Crow” he whispers “The worst part is that I feel like I deserve it. You think so too, don’t you? You all do. But I can’t fix what I did.”

He sits over Crow, now trying to wipe away the angry tears.

“And later you regret hurting me or something and try to act nice to appease your consciousness or something, and I’ll believe you because I’m so desperate for things to get any better! Shit… You… You are doing that right now, but tomorrow will be the same shit all over again because just like everything on this stupid fucking planet, time is standing still. And there is no way for this to change because I can’t undo what I did.”

Crow tries to hug him again, but slapping Crow’s hands to the side, he falls into a much more desperate cry, hiding his face on his hands.

“I… I wish you’d love me again. Like you did before all this”

Crow’s chest tightens a little. Back then… things indeed seemed much better. And Crow did love him, and so did Ferret. But that’s what made the betrayal so much worse.

“Why would you want me to love you, I’ve done nothing but hurt you… For months now”

“Everyone has hurt me.” His sobs turn to screams that cut the heavy silence of that world “My entire fucking life I’ve been thrown around by people who didn’t care about me beyond whatever they wanted to use me for. But you are the only one that made me feel like can’t live without you… And I fucking hate you for that.”

Bunny cries louder, gasps for air and eventually… Calms down. Crow waits, patiently, lost in thought.

“…I hate myself for it too. I wish I could bring her back. I wish I hadn’t fucked up the only good thing I ever had. But I can’t”

“Bunny… Do you want to leave?”

Bunny frowns, eyes red from crying. He cleans the tears, and thinks for the longest time.

“If I say I do… Will you really let me leave?”

Crow nods.

“…No… I don’t. But you know that already, don’t you? If I wanted to go… I wouldn’t have come back”

“Did you come back because… Because of the things you just told me?”

“Yeah. I guess. But also… Where would I even go?”

And that was the question that plagues everyone on that City, all struggling for shreds of normalcy that had been stolen from them by some cruel trick of the universe.

He seems so tired, standing there, chest moving slowly, the pale skin marked by bruises. Crown envies him for his looks, skin that is still soft and not completely covered in scars like his own.

“…You and the others… Are the closest I’ve had from a family in years. And it hurts because I still love you.” He shakes his head “… I wish you would love me back or… Or just hate me all at once. I’m just so… So tired of having you toy with me like this.”

Bunny lays down again, head against his heart.

“You think you could ever love me again, Crow?”

Crow stares away into the ceiling. Loving him again meant taking responsibility for the pain he caused him. For every. Single. Bruise. Every. Single. Tear. And more importantly, never ever doing it again.

…It meant forgiving him.

“It’s too much to ask for, isn’t it?” Bunny seems to be shivering, fighting his tears again “I get it. But… Is it okay if I pretend you still do? At least… At least maybe now?”

“Yeah” Crow says, wrapping him on a tight hug “For now, is okay if you do.”

#whump #oc whump #whump writing #crow and bunny

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miumiu-chan · 4 years ago

Text

Miyase Go STORY 1 Chapter 13-3 Happy End

Subbed video: STORY-1 13-3 HE

-Home / Balcony-

——A certain day off.

My morning began with watering my precious plants on the balcony.

[REI]: (The lilac’s side buds are growing.....Thank goodness.)

[REI]: (——Ah, I think it’s about time to harvest this one. Yup!)

Crouching down, at the tip of my outstretched hand was a radish that I cultivated alone for the first time.

I harvested the beautifully colored vegetables grown in this early summer while humming.

[REI]: (Today, I’ll take it with me and show him.)

-Miyase’s New House-

[MIYASE]: “Welcome, Rei-san.”

[REI]: “Good morning, Go-san.”

A 3 minute walk from my house.

This place, which was about a 10-minute walk from the Kujo House, was Go-san's new home.

[MIYASE]: “Good timing, I was just thinking of starting to prepare breakfast.”

[REI]: “Fu- fu- fu-”

[MIYASE]: “What is it? Making that daring and adorable laugh.”

[REI]: “Ta-daah! Please look at this!”

My freshly harvested radishes that I grew.

[MIYASE]: “Ah......, you got a lot of beautifully good results.”

[REI]: “For the first time, I completed everything from seeding to harvesting all on my own.”

[MIYASE]: “You worked hard, didn’t you, Rei-san? Well done.”

While saying good job, he patted my head which made me feel ticklish.

At the same time, the radishes in my hands felt very proud and dear to me.

[REI]: “I brought them because I wanted to eat them with Go-san.”

[REI]: “How does a salad sound?”

[MIYASE]: “Although it’s such a waste to eat them......Then, shall we make it together?”

[REI]: “Yes, let’s make it. Together.”

...——20 minutes later.

On the table, there was a line of gorgeous breakfast foods completed by the two of us.

Today's menu was tomato and zucchini scrambled eggs.

Bacon and sausages I bought when we went on a ranch date the other day.

Cold potato soup that was perfect for early summer mornings.

And the radish and baby leaf salad was served with Go-san’s special fruit dressing.

[MIYASE]: “It looks delicious.”

[REI]: “Yeah. Everything looks amazing.”

[MIYASE]: “Then——“

[MIYASE & REI]: “Thanks for the food.”

Go-san started eating the salad first.

He chewed the slightly thick sliced radish with a smile, and then looked at me.

[MIYASE]: “Yup, it’s really delicious.”

[MIYASE]: “It’s the most delicious radish I have ever eaten.”

[REI]: “Ahaha. I’m glad.”

[MIYASE]: “Rei-san’s balcony may be a little-known good spot for a vegetable garden.”

[REI]: “Aa, that might be so.”

[REI]: “The princess lilac is doing really well.”

[MIYASE]: “Then tonight, I wonder if I can go see how it’s doing after work.”

[REI]: “Yes, of course you can.”

[MIYASE]: “......I said I’d be going at night to Rei-san’s house, you know?”

Although I could feel the exaggerated heartbeat of my chest, I’d become resistant to this pattern.

[REI]: “Go-san coming at night......I know my lover is coming to my home and replied like that.”

[MIYASE]: “............”

[REI]: “Ah, it’s unfair to turn red! You’ll make me blush too!”

[MIYASE]: “Fu, haha. Sorry.”

[MIYASE]: “I was thinking deeply that “this is happiness”.”

[REI]: “I've been thinking that since the moment I met Go-san today.”

[MIYASE]: “Yeah, me too.”

Feelings and words.

Like this, we had tried to exchange them as transparently as possible.

I would take Go-san’s feelings and give him my feelings.

Fun, happiness, and various other emotions that came to our hearts because we were alive.

Because I knew we could firmly hold them together.

[MIYASE]: “Rei-san, would you like more flower tea?”

[REI]: “Ah, then just a little bit.”

When I held out my tea cup, Go-san poured the flax-colored tea.

It was a tea with a very nice aroma and an impressive taste.

[REI]: “This flower tea......”

[MIYASE]: “It was sent by an unsigned sender.”

[MIYASE]: “It came with an enthusiastic message.”

[REI]: “What was written?”

[MIYASE]: “Mìng fǎn de èr rén liǎng rén jiāng yǒng jìn xìngfú.”

[REI]: “Eh-“

[MIYASE]: “In Japanese——“

[MIYASE]: “It’s something like, “For the two destined people to be forever happy.””

[REI]: (Rulong-san......)

Go-san didn’t dare to say his name.

That was why I also thanked him only in my heart and put the flower tea in my mouth.

[REI]: “......This tea is delicious. Although, it tastes a little strange.”

[MIYASE]: “I’m sure it’s the habit of the person blending the tea leaves.”

[MIYASE]: “It was sent in large quantities, so I'm planning to give it to everyone during the afternoon tea time......”

[REI]: “This tea......I can't imagine what kind of impression it will get.”

[MIYASE]: “So, Rei-san thinks so too?”

[REI]: “Yeah. Ahaha.”

[MIYASE]: “Well, sometimes it’s fine to enjoy tea that is out of the comfort zone.”

-Kujo House / Dining Table-

[KIRISHIMA]: “——Uwa, this tea kinda has a sweet smell.”

After lunch, as soon as he tried to drink the flower tea, Kirishima-san wrinkled his eyebrows.

[SHINDO]: “The taste is sweet too......”

[KUJO]: “It has somewhat of a strong taste.”

[KANAME]: “Go-san, has your sense of tea leaves changed a little?”

[SHINDO]: “Is it due to changes in the environment?”

[KANAME]: “Ah, because he has to commute for the servant work?”

[MIYASE]: “Oh my, it’s much more unpopular than I expected......”

Go-san, who was carrying a pink violet jelly dessert, looked at me with a troubled face.

I didn’t want him to make such a downhearted face, so I tried to appeal to the Kujo Family.

[REI]: “E-Everyone! Isn’t this tea delicious!?”

[REI]: “Please taste it slowly and carefully.”

[REI]: “The more you drink it, it’ll be better. You know, it’s like that. A very flavorful taste like dried squid......”

[KIRISHIMA]: “Ohh, doesn't a dried squid-flavored tea sound tastier?”

[KANAME]: “It sounds awful......”

[SHINDO]: “Oh, I see. Izumi doesn't want to see Miyase's heartbroken face.”

[REI]: “Eh-“

[KUJO]: “......Fu”

[KIRISHIMA]: “Rei’s always been sweet on Miyase, but after they started dating, it's been more and more apparent.”

[KANAME]: “Koya-kun, apparent isn’t used like tha——“

[KANAME]: “......No wait, it’s correct?”

[SHINDO]: “You......Are you actually a fake Kirishima?”

[KIRISHIMA]: “As if there’s a strong and cool guy like me.”

[SHINDO]: “It’s the real one.”

[KIRISHIMA]: “Obviously.”

[KIRISHIMA]: “Recently, I borrowed a bunch of study books from Kujo-san and read them.”

[REI]: “Study books?”

[KIRISHIMA]: “Miyase isn't always in this house like he used to be.”

[KIRISHIMA]: “So it’s only natural as a bodyguard to increase what I can do.”

[MIYASE]: “Kirishima-san......”

[KIRISHIMA]: “Oh, don't get me wrong.”

[KIRISHIMA]: “Me and Kujo-san are happy with whatever Miyase can do.”

[KUJO]: “It’s as Kirishima says, Go.”

[MIYASE]: “......Yes. Thank you.”

[REI]: (Go-san really looks happy.)

After overcoming various anguish, Go-san left the Kujo residence and started living alone.

[REI]: (But, continuing to support the Kujo Family, to support Kujo-san is the future that he chose.)

That was not as a “servant”, but as a “brother” and as “family”.

He told me with a shy smile that he was in the process of searching for a comfortable sense of distance.

——On another note, that secret room was in good health, and it was an important place for us to go to occasionally.

[SHINDO]: “Well, when it comes to escorting* Izumi into this house, it seems like it’d be a lot of trouble.” (T/N: tsurekomi = taking one’s lover to a hotel, similar to that in this context)

[REI]: “Escort-......!?”

[KANAME]: “That’s true, if that kind of entangling situation happens, it may be better to have a separate house.”

[MIYASE]: “Fufu. I agree.”

[REI]: “!”

[MIYASE]: “Because time with my loved one is a principle that I want to keep secret.”

[KIRISHIMA]: “Really? If it was me, I’d wanna show off.”

[SHINDO]: “I wonder about that too......”

[KANAME]: “Or rather, what are we talking about?”

[MIYASE]: “It’s a conversation about my love for Rei-san.”

[REI]: “!!!!”

[KANAME]: “Ah, Onee-san froze.”

[MIYASE]: “Fufu. This very honest and cute girl is my lover.”

[SHINDO]: “Don’t show off.”

[KUJO]: “......Fu. It's fun, this kind of time.”

[MIYASE]: “Yes. It really is.”

#stand my heroes #sutamai #miyase go #translations

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noonmutter · 5 years ago

Note

NSFW meme - Dicenne (Was tempted to say Valarin, but I will be nice!)

(NSFW Prompt)

How interested they are in having sex with them:

“I mean...absolutely? ‘E’s gorgeous, shows off what well deserves bein’ shown off, ‘as fun without bein’ a total dick t’people, eats like a Pandaren, an’ I suspect knows ‘ow t’laugh in bed. What else could I ask for?”

How much they would pay (or have to be paid) to have sex with them:

“I don’t...think?...I’d ‘ave to, but... Iunno. ‘E prolly pulls top coin. If ‘e named it, I’d consider it, but I’d rather not ‘ave t’pay. It puts a dif’rent context on th’ole thin’. Rather ‘ave a friendly roll with ‘im than payin’ fer a night.”

If they would rather bottom or top them:

“I find m’self wond’rin’ sometimes if ‘e’s one o’ those people ‘o gets asked t’top pretty much all th’time an’ would welcome a break from tha’, but I expect ‘e’d top if asked.”

How good they think they would be:

“I try not t’ buy int’ rumors, but uh... I can’t imagine ‘e’d be bad. At all.”

If they’d prefer kitchen counter, wall, or shower sex with them:

“Yes? Why do I ‘ave t’ pick? ...If I ‘ave t’pick, wall. Only cuz I’ve allus wanted t’actually dent one doin’ tha’, an’ I think Dice’d ‘ave fun obligin’ tha’ fantasy.”

If they’d fuck, have sex, or make love:

“Ideally? All three over th’ course of an evenin’. Get a proper impression o’ th’ man, hey?”

If they were going to make it a threesome, the third person they’d pick:

“Oof. Tricky... Iunno tha’ I’d strictly want to. Threesomes get complicated an’ I prefer bein’ able t’focus th’ first time I’m with somebody. But um. Hmm. ... Maybe Bella? Pretty sure tha’d make ‘er month if it was th’ two of us.”

If they think there’s ever a possibility that it would happen:

“Not fer a long time, if ever. Takes a bit more spine than I’ve got at present. Gods know I’ve tried t’work m’self up t’askin’ a few times, but I end up playin’ it off as a joke or not gettin’ th’ words out an’ backin’ down. It’s really bloody frustratin’.”

( @dicenne mentioning @belillinafireseeker )

#prompty things #leon #dice #turning-through-the-never

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bladekindeyewear · 5 years ago

Text

HS^2 bloggin’ bonus 2020-02-01

bladekindeyewear:

Boy that sure is a new HS^2 bonus I should blogread. And there was a commentary on the Patreon for the last proper upd8 too.

I’ll… do it sometime this weekend, not right away. (Had a stomach virus through Monday and Tuesday that’s left me pretty fucked over and still waiting for the aftereffects to flee.)

Alright, taking a crack at both of these now. (Both light on images and quoting, since it’s all Patreon material.) So what’s going on here? Are the bonus chapters splitting into separate stories perhaps, following the lecture in one and the PS^2 crew in another? Also, from the replies on the previous:

gaaraofsburbia said: It was very good and I was very happy

Good to know. Time to read, bonus first! *clicks link*

...the title of a book someone’s holding. Bookmarked (with a red flag?). Uh huh. Good start.

> ==>

“A picture book for young parliamentarians.) ...oh wow, it’s Carapacian even. Did the Mayor have anything to do with this book?

--Wait. Waitwaitwait. This isn’t-- the authors wouldn’t go back in time and show us like-- PM and the Mayor trying to start the-- nooo.

> ==>

Oh shit, never mind. This is a book ABOUT the Mayor. Starting from him farming on Skaia and continuing from there with a focus on societal structures presumably. So, sort of like what I just said but not quite as goddamn heartwrenching, most likely.

You know, this WOULD have been a good opportunity for the authors to finally bring some canon awareness to all the rampant Breath and Blood visual-and-textual symbolism around WV and PM’s arcs, giving people some HINT of their potential importance outside some crazy unproven blog post on some crazy wrong person’s blog. But I’m not really convinced Andrew or his new replacements, er... y’know. Care. About letting us know about all that cool shit. Or even dissuading us if we were somehow wrong. Just gonna... let us haaaang in the breeeze there forever, more likely. :T

...this is still what I’m most bitter about regarding the end of Homestuck, as you can obviously tell. Thinking -- still believing -- that we found something beautiful and deliberate he’d done, but refusing to have canon openly acknowledge any of it so that 99% of readers will never have a clue about it and the few of us who caught on -- if right -- are just regarded as nutters, and if wrong, NEVER have what we need to finally disprove and accept that wrongness thanks to his silence, thus continuing to believe wrongly and be regarded as nutters.

So I just keep reading and... vacillating. Vacillating on whether to believe any of this will get brought up in HS^2 canon, or whether to cynically fear they’ll take the worst route: Doing things EXACTLY like Andrew did and dropping only vague hints that keep it an implied-only, unconfirmed mystery forever. Because that’s what made the comic popular! And it’s “safe”. :(

...man, gut issues really bring the pessimist out of you, don’t they. Let’s keep reading. Once upon a time there was a simple farmer...

> ==>

Horrible kings kept fighting and didn’t care about the land, destroying it underneath their war. Right. (Mostly paraphrasing here and from now, mind you.)

> ==>

WV wanted to stop the kings, but the kings had power.

> ==>

That power had to be destroyed too. (Shows the rings.)

> ==>

Hm, the journey that ends up in the rings’ destruction to the desert? Are we going to fill in some context here?

> ==>

--And made friends with curious creatures and powerful people! (Showing the fake Can Town built with Dave and Karkat along the meteor trip.)

Assumedly internalizing all those practice-town lessons, of course.

> ==>

--Oh, cool! So one of the first things WV and PM did upon coming to Earth C to start their founding process was destroy the rings, the temptation of that power, throwing it into the Forge.

EDIT: krixwell said: "I don't know exactly how it reads in the bonus update because I'm not a patron, but WV and PM throwing the rings in the Forge happened before they entered Universe C, and was shown in HS proper (8107-8111, 8123-8126 and at the beginning of [S] Act 7). It was required to light the Forge and send the Genesis Tadpole to Skaia." Ah, file that under more things I forgot about, then.

> ==>

Where once nothing,

> ==>

Earth C was founded/born, etc.

> ==>

Ah okay! So with a backdrop of the Town Hall under construction, we’re getting some context specifically as to how and why the Mayor set up society the way he did on Earth C. Especially the challenging question of who would govern the world and how.

> ==>

Oh shit, text dump! :D

The problem was unfortunately compounded by the fact that when the topic of fair and effective governance is broached, most sparing intellects immediately assume a certain posture. Not one of surrender or admiration, but of abject and interminable boredom.

This fact makes it hard to treat such a fascinating subject with the proper amount of attention and enthusiasm, BUT WE SHALL DO OUR BEST TO UNDERSTAND REGARDLESS.

Alright, loving this.

Also, this’ll undoubtedly put into context just how MUCH the Mayor had to think about how society would work best to have set up -- and how little comparative thought Jane put into the process when just drafting up something United-States-like and familiar. Remember how awful it was the childlike way the Condesce essentially kept trying to recreate her familiar surroundings and rule structure on Earth? It was only natural that her Life-aspected protege would make similar errors, I suppose.

Back to reading this long page... I won’t just quote all the details of this representative system, because that’s up to y’all to pony up for. But I’ll note if there’s anything interesting in it that makes me think. Let’s see...

...Hm! The number of seats each kingdom got in parliament was based on voter turnout... THAT’S a heavy incentive to get out the vote, if your kingdom can literally lose influence if you don’t.

On the happy occasions where the maximum number of seats were allocated in all four quarters, this was known as a "full House".

Oh, fuck you. :)

...oh dear, that was only the beginning of the card slang.

I’m not going to list all of them here. They make sense in context, which is even worse.

Without going into too much detail, consorts all tend to have significantly shorter lifespans than the other citizens of Earth C. Because of this, a large number of House Rules were dedicated to describing exactly what to do if a seat was vacated mid-term due to the death of its occupant.

Not the carapacian kingdom, the consort kingdom. Don’t panic, y’all.

The DELIVERY OF JUSTICE (DoJ) was founded to keep the peace and arbitrate in all legal matters, and its members were the brave soldiers of God in this righteous crusade.

They also took care of the MAIL.

Oooooof course. :)

Unions get their rep, if only for a pun...

Oh, hm. The Mayor’s office is much like a ceremonial-only monarch’s office without serious power. Etc etc...... reading...

So governing Earth C was a complicated affair, and only became more convoluted over time. But the really important thing was that, despite all this complexity, it worked. It really worked. At one point, a whole field of mathematics was developed just to explain why the interim government worked so well, and they ended up proving it categorically. It was theoretically perfect.

Ppfffff

--ah. And then the Mayor has a chill as he looks at the clouds and somehow anticipates something terrible happening to it all.

That’s it for the bonus. I’m guessing the next chapter of this separate bonus story will go over some sort of threat the system endured, while the Mayor was still alive, possibly? Or cut forward to the creators’ arrival and how that fucked a bunch of stuff up? A sort of demonstration on why the gods who create a universe shouldn’t take charge of those living in it or such? Hm.

Alright, if that’s it for the bonus, let’s see what’s available for Patreon commentary... here we go, just the one for the latest mainline upd8 that I knew had come out.

Sketches and Commentary: Chapter 3, How Are Your Feelings

Before starting into this, I want to note that I do have SOME ray of hope for more Awake Jade involvement to shine against my previous rant -- because that OTHER callie-controlled younger Jade body is coming, which I’d forgotten about. As soon as the pursuit crew arrives in-system and THAT Jade finally gets there through whatever black-hole-powered teleportation magic she’s using (with Aradia and Robodave), it’ll be completely safe for OUR Jade to be awake and active at will. Theoretically.

So... y’know, that’s nice. Whenever that will happen.

So onto the commentary, we’re starting with that stupid ship.

(I think I actually said something along the lines of, "this is stupid, so we're using it." I know my Homestuck history. For those interested, the ship is modelled after a schooner, and continues the Homestuck tradition of spaceships that look like regular sea-faring vessels, only with additional stuff bolted on. - Pip)

...Yeah, can’t blame you there.

This is Jake’s “second best” ship. It makes me really nervous to think about what the third-best looks like.

Flying booty shorts, most likely.

...yeah, I did notice that latest upd8 playing with colors in a way the comic rarely even did, it was pretty nice. Glad to see they appreciate it too.

...Yep, Karkat getting owned just for the sake of it, there.

First off, Jade’s outfit. It rules. Alt!Callie may have violently forced her consciousness inside of this innocent girl’s brain, but damn these threads are sweet. She’s managed to keep Jade pretty on brand, while throwing in a couple embellishments of her own. That’s what we call “making it work”.

Yes, you’d better WELL fucking acknowledge what you’re doing by keeping Jade in a miserable isolated state for three years. A G A I N.

Nice bit about the casual showing of Dave’s eyes as evidence that Dave’s recovering through some of his old mental blocks.

Dave and Karkat are wearing each other’s shirts, which is traditionally a very gay thing to do. Even more notably perhaps is the fact that Karkat is wearing crimson without a hint of complaint. Again, I doubt this was an intentional move on his part. Just, sometimes you’re coming out of the shower, it’s chilly, and your boyfriend’s shirt fits. Busting through mental blocks should typically come across as whispers to me, rather than shouts.

--Hm, never considered the latter angle.

Karkat is being pretty mean to Possessed Jade. Which sucks, but this situation is incredibly stressful, and Karkat tends to react to stress by being mean. Treating Jade like an irritant allows him to put some distance between himself and the reality that he may have lost another friend.

Guh. That one stung :(

Initially the panel directions here were “everybody pauses to contemplate Dirk fucking Strider”

Mhmm, and you figured it’d be more unsettling to reverse it and remind us that the Prince is aware of all of this too.

Roxy’s heart-shaped sunglasses have become such a thing in the fandom that I kind of can’t imagine him without them at this point, so we decided to make it settled law.

Mhmm, I figured that was how they played it. One of the ways they’re incorporating fandom involvement.

Sometimes I feel like it should be Xam who does these commentaries, since there’s so much incredible shit going on with the art here that I’m really only equipped to comment on with shit like “oh wow, look at these colors. Green and purple huh. Wild. There’s also some light.”

It’s pretty understandable to have the writers take the lead on most commentary as opposed to the artists... normally.

But then you’d have the weird places where they’d have to work together without necessarily giving away their game. Like, all that WV/PM Breath/Blood visual representation I mentioned.

I still don’t know if they’re gonna give away the game on that eventually -- or if Andrew even gave them enough to go on to properly REPLICATE that sort of thing in this official continuation, even though my mind keeps telling me it’d make all sense to -- but if they are thinking about it, I doubt they’ll first show their hand in the commentary.

I love Kanaya’s new outfit.

I understand that sure, but will she be sticking with this outfit through the action though? Looking like a mourning nun?

Kanaya’s nursery story is, of course, The Little Prince, a French fairytale from the 1940’s. It tells the story, rather appropriately, of a young Prince traveling through space looking for something he believes he has lost.

“And now here is my secret, a very simple secret: It is only with the heart that one can see rightly; what is essential is invisible to the eye.”

I’m not sure why I keep thinking about this quote. Probably some shit that has to do with “themes” or something.

Hinting that once he’s beaten down and likely dying from this stupid exodus plan, at least some part of Dirk may finally realize that any fulfillment and purpose he was looking for with this megalomaniacal nonsense was left behind in the peaceful life he fucking ruined for everyone to do all this. The Heart-blind bastard.

God, Dave is just losing family members left and right, isn’t he? Really makes you think.

Gdi. :(

“Maybe it was naive to think a bunch of twenty something trauma victims could run a society.”

There it is. That’s the whole Epilogue.

And Andrew just had to let us ruin our naivety.

Wow. There really are just a whole lot of feelings in this chapter, aren’t there? It’s very aptly named. And it’s also actually the first part of HS^2 that got drafted; at least the first part that actually made it into the final draft. I wrote it earlier in 2019 when we were still kicking around ideas of what an Epilogue follow-up would actually look like.

Huh. Yeah, I can imagine when writing all this it would make sense to write/use this chapter first, as a knee-jerk reaction.

I do really think Karkat would have been a great president. He would have hated it, but he would have been good at it.

I’m glad the authors are in agreement with everyone else with a brain on this one.

Did you guys know that Karkat still feels immense survivor’s guilt for murderstuck?

Yes. Yes we did.

(Some continued remarks about how Karkat’s self-loathing is like a singularity that draws all blame onto himself in his mind etc.)

Apparently there was a metal gear reference in this second-to-last conversation? Don’t tell me, I don’t care.

Eat the fucking pancakes, dude.

A good place to end the commentary. See y’all when there’s more content!

#Homestuck #hs2 #upd8 #Homestuck Liveblog #Homestuck Commentary #bladekindeyewear #blastyoboots

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mssapphire · 5 years ago

Text

You can always be friendly, but you can’t always be friends (pt. 2)

So, on the previous post I was talking about inherent power dynamics that can make a true friendship impossible. Let’s also refer back to the definition of friendships as «emotionally intimate relationships based in equality. Where the key component keeping you in relationship is a mutual sense of understanding, trust and compatibility with each other. And not relationships where something is owed.»

Now, for this post I wanted to focus not on power dynamics, but on other elements that can make true friendships impossible in specific contexts and why, focusing on the emotional aspect. Mainly, the two types I want to discuss are: party friends (whom we have a relationship based on substance abuse, specifically) and exes (to be discussed on another post because this one is long enough)

Again, these are relationships where you can be friendly, where you can genuinely enjoy each other’s company, but where the true friendship doesn’t really come to happen. But the real question is: why not?

And the main reason behind it, I think, is because you’re connected through what is known in attachment theory as a fantasy bond.

I’m gonna go ahead and place the cut here, but, this is where it gets good.

When we get into relationships with people, we also relate to our idea of them - and far from being delusional, this is highly necessary to keep relationships alive. It’s not like we’re connected to someone only when we talk to them, or only when we’re sharing the same space with them. We are also in relationship when we think about the person, and that’s how we keep relationships functioning. This is precisely what helps us have continuity when we reconnect in person. If the relationship is good, this is what helps fortify the feelings of trust and safety, because we are remembering we’re safe and cared for.

So far, so good, right? Fantastic. The thing is that for this not to turn dysfunctional, we have to show up emotionally to the relationship. We can’t forever live in our idea of how much someone cares for us, or the idea of how much we care about them... if we never take action that builds on that. Intimate relationships are constructed through a constant invitation and reciprocity to intimately connect (aka emotional attunement) - and when this connection is reliable (remember this word), it provides emotional safety.

If someone tells us we’re important to them, and that they’re there for us, and that they love us, but when we go to them they ignore us, brush us off because they’re too busy, or simply don’t really connect with us because they fail to understand us - that’s denying that emotional attunement. And if we keep insisting, because we tell it to ourselves, each other, and others, that we have a loving relationship - we’re lying. What we have is one hell of a fantasy bond, and what we have is a relationship with it, and not with the person.

And it really is heartbreaking to open your eyes one day and realize that we, or the other person, are simply not showing up to the relationship. That we don’t even know each other that well. This is when we feel alienated and chronically lonely.

So. What does all of this have to do with party friends and exes, huh? well, let’s get to it.

Party friends (and substance abuse)

What are party friends? Party friends are people you meet in the context of, well, partying, be it at a bar, club, concert. But more than that, these are “friends” you only meet to party. And they don’t really know you, or your life. Even less your family, your other friends, your dreams, your aspirations, your concerns, your problems. Nah, you just meet them to have a nice time out, and that’s it. Not every person you know has to know you on an intimate level. Not everyone has got to be your friend. But these people are people who you’re friendly with, nothing more. And there’s nothing wrong with that, but we must not confuse one with the other.

Now, how does substance abuse come into play? I’m gonna stir away from the controversy around legal or illegal substances - because people like to build a straw man around how not every illegal drug is addictive and that there are legal substances that are just as bad if not worse. That is not the point. Pick whatever substance you want, whether it causes addiction or not, doesn’t matter. Here we are considering any consciousness and mood altering substance, which may or may not have side effects, which have a noticeable impact on someone’s behavior.

I’m gonna choose alcohol, for this example. A completely legal substance which, if consumed responsibly and in moderation, shouldn’t be a problem. A substance that is socially acceptable and which is oftentimes encouraged precisely because of its socialization qualities.

So, have you ever had a few too many drinks and done something stupid? Do you think it would be fair to judge you while under the influence of said substances? ‘That wasn’t me’, you would say. ‘I would never ever do that while sober’, and that is probably true.

And that’s your main clue: you’re not entirely yourself when you’re drunk/high. It’s like an artificial version of yourself, where some parts are deeply muted and some other parts are heightened. Even more so, these types of substances also affect your memory, and you don’t have a full recollection of what went on when you were drunk.

So, if all of this is true so far, then it’s simpler to take the next step in the logical sequence: if you’re not entirely you when you’re under the influence of drugs or alcohol, then, how can you ever have a truthful, connected relationship with the people you party with? They’re not getting to know the real you, they’re hanging out with party you. And you don’t know real them, you know party them. And that’s where your relationship ends.

‘But, hang on!’ I hear you say. ‘Does this mean I should never go out for drinks with my friends?’ One more time, that’s not the point. The point is that if substances are an important component of your relationship, if you get together to get high or drink excessively, and that’s all or most you do, then you don’t really know each other. You have a fantasy bond with the person you think they are, and with the person they are when they’re under the influence.... you might not even like sober them.

‘Ok, but, I rarely go party’. Look, man, the location is irrelevant. If you’re getting high and drunk in your living room every time you meet - the outcome is still the same. And if you’re whining because it’s not every time, but most of the time, this still applies, because....

WAIT, THERE’S MORE! (’more?!’ yes, more).

When the entire relationship has an important component of substance abuse, that right there is how you’re framing the relationship. Because if one of you were to quit, the entire dynamic would collapse. You know how hard it is to quit smoking when you’re surrounded by smokers? it’s the same thing, specially so if the substances you’re taking cause addiction, or you have a tendency towards substance abuse (and if this is the case, even caffeine can become addictive - and you probably will always need professional support for this).

Why? because it will come down to two different scenarios:

1) You roll for will power and you get a perfect 20... and then you’re excluded from the group dynamic and you have a hard time relating (do you know how boring it is to be the only sober person in the group?) and it can also create animosity because your peers will either judge you or feel self-conscious about their own behavior. So you will inevitably drift away.

2) It will effectively be impossible for you to quit because temptation is always right in front of you, so you will always relapse and stay in this environment.

But if being a hostage to the relationship weren’t enough, there’s also another matter: and it’s that substance abuse really does affect your mood and also your maturity levels.

The brain is supposed to develop certain abilities as we grow older - like being able to predict the consequences of our actions and regulate impulse control. When we abuse drugs, specially before the age of 25 (when the brain is fully grown), the brain gets stunted. And it literally gets stuck in a pattern of self-gratification.

What does this mean? That if you’re used to abusing substances, and have a hard time regulating your impulses, that is not a coincidence - that’s an inevitable consequence. So it’s normal that you can’t refuse drugs or alcohol when they are offered to you - and this means that these are the type of relationships you are always going to favor (consciously or unconsciously). If faced with the choice between a quiet, sober, night in playing board games, or going out and partying, your brain will always lean to the partying. Because everything else is just boring and not stimulating enough.

No, this doesn’t mean you don’t have a choice (because of course you do). But breaking the cycle is almost impossible when your brain is always looking for a rush. If you abuse substances, you will surround yourself with other people who do the same. Other people who are also emotionally stunted, who also have impulse control problems, and who also have the same shortcomings that you do. And they really do not have the ability to provide you (nor you them) with an emotionally mature relationship that is properly attuned.

You can’t be emotionally attuned if you’re all checked out. And this is why these are not real friendships or emotionally connected relationships.

‘But what if I abuse substances but I’m friends (through some sheer miracle) with sober people?’ you ask. Well, as someone who has deeply loved people with substance abuse problems, I can first hand tell you that the substances have such an impact on their moods and consciousness that you never know what to expect, and these are, in short unreliable relationships full of pain. You never know who you’re talking to. Sober them? high them? off the high them? withdrawn them? And this inconsistency is heartbreaking. You can never fully trust them because it can really take a toll on your mental health to be a part of this wild roller coaster. Specially so because they tend to lie to cover up their behavior, and are rarely responsible for themselves (it’s always other people’s fault, or the substances’ fault).

And if you’re the type to have sex with your friends or make substance abuse a part of your romantic relationship, forget it. If you’re high or drunk while having sex you’re stepping on consent and safety issues (ever have someone accidentally hurt you because they weren’t in full control of their faculties? ever tried asking someone to stop when they’re high or drunk? or when you were out of it?). And, in the end, you’re not really having sex as means to connect - but you’re doing it just to get another rush.

Do you really think that’s love? even if it feels like it, do you think that’s real love? The love that will put everyone’s well-being as a priority instead of their self-destruction? It isn’t really, nor should it be. And it’s difficult to understand that when we live in a society that glamorizes and even romanticizes substance abuse.

No, you’re not having a cool bohemian romance where you both fall into the deep end of drugs and alcohol because you’re ‘oh so tortured’ but you ‘at least have each other’. You’re just sinking and bringing them down with you - and none of you deserve that.

#Very long but also very good post

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yandere-daydreams · 6 years ago

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A Charles Grey/Fem!Reader (Black Butler) for an anonymous commissioner. I might’ve had to much fun with this, honestly.

Word Count: 3.5k

The first time he met you, Grey saw little more than another piece of scenery. Something nice, but ultimately unimportant. Completely and utterly forgettable.

He had visited your mansion on a job, a special request from one of the Queen’s favorite nobles. Your father was highly involved with illegal affairs, and needed to be dealt with as swiftly as possible. Something about the opium trade, or forgeries, Grey didn’t really care enough about the technicalities to pay close attention. It was just another mission, another project, another excuse to play with something weak, vulnerable and helpless. Unfortunately, due to your family’s... popularity with the working-class, the dramatics would have to be kept to a minimum.

So, he happily let his target fuss over his arrival, showing him around the estate for the better half of a day. His guilt was obvious, Grey’s suspicion only concreted by nervous stutters, anxious staff, and a forced appeal. Grey couldn’t stop himself from laughing when you were hastily called over, barely given time to introduce yourself before being unceremoniously pushed to the side in exchange for one of your more impressive siblings. You left his mind easily, only popping back in later that night.

“Earl Grey?” Your voice was heavy, weighed down by sleep and lingering exhaustion. He couldn’t blame you, no one should be awake at that hour. He’d have to be quieter next time, or get permission to take care of his target’s family as well. Your nightgown was oversized, falling over your hands and feet without restriction. You rubbed your eyes, gradually waking up. “What’s going on? Are you looking for my father?”

He ignored you, not bothering with an answer. In his defense, what was he going to say? With a sword in one hand, and the other resting on the door to the Lord’s bedroom, he couldn’t exactly explain himself. Only giving you a quick ‘nothing to worry about, go back to bed’, he brushed you off, moving to open the door. The muzzle of a gun was pressed into the back of his head before he could enter, the hammer pulled back and ‘clicked’ into place a moment later.

“I’m going to ask this one more time,” You said clearly, any illusion of a daze gone. He tried to turn around, only for you to push the muzzle against him harshly. You cursed under your breath, reaching over Grey to close the door. “What do you want with my father?”

Grey chuckled, fist clenching around the handle of his saber. Finally, something exciting. From the corner of his eye, he could just see your face. Eyes glinting with focus and adrenaline, lips pulled into a thin, straight line, turned ever-so-slightly downward at the corners. It was a look he could get used to, if he had more time. “A flintlock, how old fashioned. Are you sure you can use that, little girl?”

You shrugged, staring down the sword in his left hand. He couldn’t get to you, not before you pulled the trigger or retaliated, but that didn’t stop you from being cautious. If he didn’t know better, he’d say you were an apathetic bodyguard, rather than the pampered daughter of a wealthy Lord. “I know enough to end your life.” You paused, free hand closing around his arm. You gave it a slight tug, testing his resistance. Your movements were measured, but shaky. Hell, your gun was practically shivering now. “Drop the sword, or I’ll kill you where you stand.”

“So uncivilized… your maid really ought to have taught you better.” But, Grey dropped his weapon, nearly missing your relieved sigh under the clatter of metal on wood. He felt the tension leave your body, your grip on the gun loosening but not completely going slack. You half-heartedly kicked the sword away, pulling him backward and towards the empty hallway. “Do you intend to have your way with me, dear?”

You huffed, biting your cheek at the insult. Maybe you thought you were above his antics, or liked the idea more than you wanted to let on. The latter might be worth looking into at another time. He was shoved unceremoniously towards an office, released from your hold not long after. “I think we can talk this out. If you don’t hurt anyone, I shouldn’t have to hurt you.”

At this point, he could’ve gotten away. Grey could’ve pinned you down, or gone for his sword, or wretched the pistol out of your hand, or murdered you in all sorts of mess, gruesome ways. Your confidence had faded, leaving you trembling, and more importantly, exposed. But, he didn’t. The thought flashed through his mind, hanging in the air uselessly before being discarded.

A formerly dead-eyed, unnoticeable girl, now shoving him into a cramped room and making flimsy threats under her breath. You can’t blame him for being intrigued, can you?

It was a display of pure emotion, a poorly put-together plan to keep your loved ones alive. You didn’t know any better, and oh, Grey loved that. He loved burning time with someone who’s unable to put up a proper fight, even if that came in the form of watching you act like a hero.

He listened to your demands and let you play your little ‘interrogation’ game, answering all your questions with either sarcasm or a tone too childish to be genuine. None of it deterred you, though. You refused to let him out of your sight until the sun rose, demanding that he pack his things and leave before either of your parents woke up. Of course, your threats were paper-thin, lacking the real force that would’ve actually scared him. By the time he was in his taxi, waving you off with a bright smile and a truly concerning amount of enthusiasm, nothing had been accomplished aside from wasting time.

Even with the influence of Phipps’ strange looks and increasingly aggressive comments about how mad the Queen was going to be, Grey didn’t regret leaving his mission unfulfilled. Excuses could be made, and Queen Victoria would be satisfied with reassurance and explanations. He’d found something much more entertaining than a dead businessman, after all.

Despite his best efforts, Grey didn’t simply forget about you. Every spare minute he had was occupied by thoughts of you. Did you ever tell your parents what happened? Did they know about the gun you apparently slept with? Would you be excited to see him again? Terrified? Was this just routine for you? And most importantly, did you think about him in the same way he seemed to obsess over you?

Against his better intentions, he would find his answer. It was at a party, one the Queen had asked him and his counterpart to attend. It was boring, just another ball with loud music, dull guests, and mediocre food that wouldn’t quell his appetite. Nothing new, nothing exciting, nothing to do. Then, he saw you.

You were dancing, laughing, touching a man he didn’t recognize. You looked happy, relaxed, unarmed, so unlike you’d been with Grey. It threw him into a paranoid rage, the kind that could start wars. You didn’t care about him. You hadn’t spared him a second thought. He didn’t know what he expected, if he was disappointed or just irrational, but that didn’t change his desire to keep your eyes on him. Before you even noticed his presence, Grey had one arm wrapped around your waist, quickly pulling you away from the annoyance you were talking to.

“Miss me, dearest?” He purred, nuzzling into your side like an old friend. Your eyes darted around the room, obviously searching for anyone who could help. Someone to call for you, or see your clear discomfort. It was a vain effort. Everyone was already caught up in their own gossip, not that anyone would try to interrupt an Earl, regardless. “I was expecting a visit. Or a letter, at least.”

“I try not to associate with murderers.” Your voice was cold, so unlike your warmth from a few moments ago. After all the time you spend together, Grey figured he would be considered an acquaintance, if not a friend. But, that could change. That would change. “What do you want?”

“To talk to you,” He answered, honestly. There wasn’t a need to lie, not yet. Reluctantly, he let go of your waist, grabbing your hand before you had a chance to get away. A sweeter gesture. A more intimate gesture. Something that could make you trust him, if only a little. “I like you, (Y/n). And I want to get to know you, if you’ll let me.” You opened your mouth, ready to reject him, but Grey didn’t give you the chance. “I promise, I had a good reason for what I tried to do. If you give me some time, I’ll explain, but that’ll never happen if you run away.”

Your apprehension remained, but with a quick glance between your wrist, his face, and the nearest exit, you nodded. Grey wasn’t surprised, not this time.

That line never failed.

Months passed, along with the more… volatile stages of your friendship. With some time and a few mildly tampered-with confessions, Grey was stopping by your estate once a week, if not more often, and you were making excuses to spend time with him just as frequently. Your parents only encouraged this new union, seeing him as a potential suitor, one who’d pay a very heavy price for your hand. You, alternatively, tried to look past his fortune. To remember that this was the man who tried to kill your father, to look at him and see someone who’d end your life in the blink of an eye, but... it was hard to not enjoy his company.

Of course, Grey couldn’t have been more pleased. As long as you were paying attention to him, updating him about your life and giving him the opportunity to do the same, no one would have a chance to steal you away. You had to think about him, to mull over the letters you wrote, to consider him as something more than a threat that needed to be dealt with. But, that certainly didn’t mean he liked everything you told him.

You nearly squealed, clinging onto Grey’s arm like your life depended on it. In another context, he would’ve gladly supported this kind of behavior from you. Unfortunately, what you were actually talking about ruined the moment. “Isn’t he great, Charles? He’s just perfect! You’ve got to meet him, I’ll set something up-”

“He looks weak.” Grey cast a wary glance towards the picture in his hand. The man you were so infatuated with was plain, in all honesty. Not handsome, not impressive, barely above a servant. He wasn’t worth your time, much less the devotion you seem so determined to express. “Poor, too. You’d be better off with someone like me, darling.”

“You can’t just write someone off because of money,” You complained, trying to grab the photo away. He just held it out of your reach, smiling as you tried to climb over him to get it. His eyes never left the man’s face. He needed to memorize every detail, to know the man who tried to take you away from him.

“I mean, you can’t. I, however, am extremely wealthy, incredibly attractive, and unrealistically talented.” And madly in love with you, he added, mentally. You punched him in the arm playfully, watching him pout and sheepishly hand the small object over. The way you beamed at it sent chills down his spine, his grin faltering more than once. You were love-struck, by the wrong person. Luckily, you were too preoccupied to notice. “I think I’m going to propose. I want to marry him.”

Grey didn’t miss a beat. “You’re parents would never allow it.”

“They don’t have to know.” It was a defined change from the girl who was willing to kill someone if it meant keeping her father uninjured, Grey was almost taken back. Always full of surprised, you were. You sighed, taking on a new tone of urgency. “I’ll run away if I have to, I just want to be with him.” Your attention snapped back to Grey, the pleading look you gave him not exactly unwelcome. “You won’t tell anyone, right?”

Silence hung over the two of you, never a good sign. “Well, I don’t know about that...” Slowly, he averted his eyes, gesturing in circles. “But, if you write down his full name and address, I might be inclined to use my aforementioned wealth and talent to deliver your message, while forgetting to mention it both your parents and my associate.”

“Oh my god, thank you!” You gasped, pulling him into a bone-crushing hug. Grey was tempted to return to gesture, but opted to just awkwardly pat your shoulder and play with your hair. Delicacy would be best, for now. “You’re so nice, and great, and...”

“Handsome? Your savior? The light of your life?”

“All that, too.”

When you were his, these gestures of affection didn’t have to be forced out of you. Once he got rid of that pest, you’d fall into his arms naturally. You would be out of excuses to run away, and with your new-found favor, you’d be more… open to the suggestion of something more serious. You would have to be.

Grey didn’t know what he would do if you still rejected him. Especially after he’d done so much for you.

“Remind me why we’re here, again?” Phipps trailed behind Grey, looking from the small, claustrophobic apartment to his counterpart. Grey rolled his eyes, trying the door. It wasn’t even locked. How had you ever fallen for someone so dimwitted? “We’re supposed to be in London by sunrise.”

“This’ll only take a minute. I just need to get rid of the trash that’s been bothering one of my favorite toys.” The words were hissed out, barely audible to the uncaring Phipps. Or, he thought so, at least. A strong hand clamped down on his shoulder, stopping him from advancing into the dark house.

“And you’re sure this isn’t going too far?” The man questioned, his worry shining through the monotone drawl. Grey didn’t know whether he was asking out of genuine concern for a friend or the fear of dealing with his mess. But, Grey did know that an intervention wasn’t going to stop him. “A proper butler should never let his mind stray from his master’s commands.”

This man stole your attention, stole all those wonderful, mysterious reactions of yours. He seduced you away from the person who you’re meant to be with. Your rightful owner. And now, he was trying to trick you into running away from the life you were meant to have. It was disgusting, revolting, enraging. A downright crime, really. One worthy of a painful, drawn-out death sentence.

Grey shrugged off the other Charles, pushing the door open with his shoulder. “This is fine. If anything, I’m being lenient.”

For lack of a softer way to put it, you looked bad. There were bags under your eyes, your hair was unstyled and poorly tied back, and you couldn’t seem to stop from fidgeting. The last one Grey could write off as nerves. For all the times he’d shown up in your home without warning, this was the first time he’d called you to his. Since this was the place you’d spend the rest of your life, he wanted everything to be perfect the first time you saw it. But, that didn’t explain why you were so… discouraged. Even while standing by his side, idly walking through one of the nicer parts of his garden, you looked like you expected him to drop dead.

“He never met me,” You said, unprompted, as if you were reading his mind. You stopped for a moment, letting out a heavy sigh. “At first, I thought he just decided he didn’t like me that much, or something got in the way and he couldn’t make it, but then I didn’t hear from him for a few weeks. I guess I got curious, but when I went to his apartment…” You froze, grabbing his arm as a source of comfort. “He was dead, Charles. Dead. The landlord had to break the news.”

It took more self-control than it should’ve to keep from laughing. Of course your lover was dead, what else had you expected? You’d asked a murderer to deliver a proposal, after all. But still, he had to be sympathetic. Slowly, he rubbed short circled into your back, letting you bury your face in his shirt. “Aw, don’t be so negative about it.” You tensed, forcing him to wrap an arm around your waist. A hand closed around your chin, forcing you to look at him. “This is for the best, isn’t it?”

You shake your head, your confusion evident. He missed that expression of yours, so bewildered. So helpless. “No… what did you do?”

“I made things right,” He laughed, leaning down to kiss your cheek. You pushed him away, trying to gain any distance you could. His fingers trailed from your chin to the side of your face, lingering for a moment before brutally rooting themselves in your hair. You flinched, returning the favor by digging your nails into his shoulders. “He was a distraction. You see that, right? He took you away from me, so I got rid of him. Eradicated, like the vermin he was. Isn’t that great? Now that there’s no one to waste your time, you can be with me.”

“And if I don’t want to be with you?” You growled, confusion becoming anger. Your heart was beating faster now, so quick he could feel it through your chest. Grey released you, letting you stumble back before he grabbed your wrist. “You’re crazy, absolutely insane, I can’t believe I ever had hope for you. I should’ve just killed you when I had the chance.”

“That hurts, (Y/n), really. But, my proposal still stands.” Again, he moved to kiss you, settling for your hand, smirking against your skin. He’d hoped for his to be a little more romantic, but this would have to do. He’d taste your lips soon enough. “I do want you to come along willingly, but if you’re going to insist on being difficult, then I’m not above doing the hard way.”

You narrow your eyes, finally pulling yourself away completely. You moved to leave, not caring enough to remember which way you’d come from. As long as it got you away from Grey, you’d take any path happily. “Thanks, but I’d rather die.”

Despite your determination, you barely got a few steps away. Grey's arm wrapped around your waist from behind, his saber coming out of its scabbard and pressing dangerously close to your neck. Still in denial, you tried to continue your resistance, only for the blade to cut into your skin. A warm, thin trail of blood fell onto your chest, and you finally realized just how screwed you were.

“You wouldn’t.” Your hand settled just above his wrist, not pushing him away or urging him to move forward. Maybe you wanted to get some emotional response out of him, or know if he moved. Either way, Grey just rested his chin on your shoulder, humming contently. “I thought you said you loved me.”

“I do,” He paused, pressing his lips against your shoulder. He’d dreamed about being in this position for so long, pressed against you without interference or distraction. “Believe me, I do. You’ve had my attention from the minute I met you, and nothing makes me happier than the thought of having you with me for the rest of my life.” The sentiment was sweet, almost genuine. You could’ve believed it, if the flat of his sword hadn’t been pressed against the bottom of your jaw. Carefully, your chin was tilted towards him, forcing you to look at the white-haired man. “But, I’d rather take you by force than not have you. So, what’ll it be?”

Briefly, you considered goating him on. Dying might’ve been preferable, compared to a forced engagement to a mad-man. But, you knew that couldn’t be it. He wouldn’t just kill you, he’d kidnap you, or torture you, or worse. You tried to push the possibilities out of your mind, but they were suffocating, impossible to ignore. In the end, all you could bring yourself to do was nod. It was enough for Grey, though.

His mouth was on yours in an instant, the kiss chaste and quick, before he pulled away, chuckling. That didn’t stop him from pulling you closer, peppering your neck with small pecs and nips. The scene was exactly how he’d pictured it, down to the tears starting to run over your cheeks.

“We’re going to be so happy together, love.”

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