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gucciwins · 2 years

Text

His Story

harry has a story he is finally ready to share

Word count: 13,782

A/N: hi friends! this story I got the idea for in January and it took me forever to finish. it's different from what I usually write so go easy on me. I'd love to hear your feedback. and remember that I love you

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Harry Styles - The Rockstar has been loved by all. Not a single person could miss him as he had sold out tours from his days in One Direction to when he went solo. Styles started in small venues and has now built up to stadiums. Styles could be doing stadiums on every tour run, but he always seems to have new surprises up his sleeves. Styles’ biggest reminder is to his fans that he would not be where he was today without them.

And that is why many people continue to love Harry Styles because it is not only about him but the fans around him.

Today’s story is not about the rockstar. No, it’s about the father and husband that he has been for the last twenty years and not a single soul knew about (except his family and close team.)

Today on his twentieth wedding anniversary (a few days after), Styles is here, ready to share a story that no one could ever believe. How he created a family with no hint from the media? Well, we’ll find out together.

At twenty-five, Styles became a father to twins Milan (17) and Siena (17). At twenty-eight, he became a father of four. Another set of twins. Edin (14) and Camden (14). But the most important date to Styles that changed his life is that at twenty-three, he married the love of his life.

The question is, how did Styles hide a marriage and family for so long? Well, he can thank his wife. Everyone knows her name, no need for me to say it. She has not left the news since Harry dropped a wedding photo on his Instagram that had not been used in a few months since his last tour ended three months ago.

Fans thought it was an album announcement, but to their shock, it was a wedding announcement. Styles left a trail of broken hearts, except everyone knew he was off the market, just never with who. Her face is always hidden, and we admire him for that.

He decided to share because he lost a bet with his children. Styles has let me disclose that it included his wife and how much money she would spend if he got her the right kind of mad. His children were adamant she wouldn’t touch a dime, and Harry was sure they’d be thousands short.

His children won, and Harry slept on the couch for the night. Or so he says.

There is not a single image of his children online, and he says it will stay that way until they decide. And well, the Styles children do love secrets just like their father. Styles shared that growing up not involved in that world allowed them to see their father differently. They’d seen him on stage countless times, but no one would ever see the father who stayed up to finish the last-minute science project because someone forgot to mention it or bake different types of cookies because his daughter wanted to enter a bake sale and only reminded them three nights before.

It’s safe to say we know the rockstar and not the father, although few have had the pleasure of having him as both.

The interview is taking place in Styles’ estate. There was a coded security and triple identification check before I was let in. Not that I minded, not one bit. I was about to do the interview of my life.

Exiting my car, I grabbed my leather bag that had seen better days, ensuring my recorder and notepad were inside, and a few different pens were.

As I walked to the door, I tried my best to calm my nerves, I knocked on the door, and to my surprise, Mr. Styles answered. He was dressed in casual (expensive in my eyes) white linen pants with a few paint stains that were not noticeable at first glance. His top was a lovely yellow Bode button-up we saw him wear while filming “Don’t Worry Darling.” Styles’ hair was styled to perfection, and it left me wondering if he did it himself or if his management had him bring in a stylist knowing the article would be privileged one photo, and I was hoping we’d score one with his wife, but alone would work as well.

We’d have to wait and see (unless you scroll to the bottom or flip the page, you’ll see.)

Styles welcomed me, and to my surprise, there was not a single soul around. We heard tinkering in the kitchen as he led me to the living room, stating it was just his manager. I was taking it all in; the house was well taken care of but was lived in if the small dent on the door had any say. It didn’t have an empty feeling. There was a table by the entrance for keys and a fresh vase of hydrangeas blooming as if just picked from the ground. I looked a little closer, and it seemed there was a chip on the top of the vase. I didn’t dare ask but knew that it had a story.

Walking into the living room, it was spacious with lots of room to sit and walk around. The first thing that caught my attention was a large mahogany bookcase that seemed to have been refurbished as part of the wall. There were an endless amount of books. It was organized in a way I didn’t understand. It wasn’t colored, it had to be authors, or by the look of the top row by the year it was published.

On the velvet green couch that was calling for someone to sink into were two cats on a creme blanket. The all-black cat with one white boot was dozing on the blanket as the other orange, and dotted white nose was on the arm gazing at me, sizing me up, I assumed, until it rolled over, no longer finding me of interest.

There was a large dog bed by the bookcase. I assumed they must have been running around. I secretly hoped it would make an appearance.

As Mr. Styles offered me a seat, he settled on the couch with the cats, running a ringed hang over one, and I watched it stretch out, never opening its eyes. I sat in a love seat diagonal to him, and that’s when I caught sight of the most beautiful backyard view with French patio doors. There were flowers in full bloom as well. A rocking chair that seemed to fit two people had knitting supplies next to them, and I could only assume the couple spent lots of time there.

Styles was very welcoming, asking me how I was and if I found the drive okay. He was easy to converse with, as if we were old friends just catching up. I expressed how much I enjoyed his last tour and how creative it had been with the stage stating it was great to see the band together.

He joked, saying it was Sarah Jones’ band even now, stating that Mitch Rowland wouldn’t leave him alone.

We segued into his life and if he was ready to share the story.

Personally, I was excited.

Professionally, I was calm and ready to listen.

Now here is Styles to tell you his story.

Please note that I got to hear it in person while you, the reader, get a written copy. There are some winners in life, and I’m glad to be one of them.

I can’t believe I’m telling the story–

As Styles is speaking, a woman with beautiful hair that rivaled anyone I knew and clothing that looked new yet well-loved adorned her body. (I would come to learn she was wearing a custom Dior. Her husband liked supplying her with the best even if she fought him on it and lost.) She set tea and water on the coffee table scattered with different poem books, many even I hadn’t heard of.

She smiles politely before looking at her husband, “thought you’d both like something to drink. Know you like to talk.”

I see Styles’ gaze soften as she takes him in. Styles reaches for her hand, placing a kiss on her palm before leaning into her hand. “Thank you, my heart.”

She tries to hide her flush, but I see it. It’s as clear as day how in love they are.

Twenty years and it’s like they are the only two people in the world.

“Hello, a pleasure to meet you.” I address her politely.

“You as well.”

“We have it on record you’re Dr. Styles.”

“Correct.” She confirms.

“Is that how you’d like to be addressed?” I ask courteously.

“Mrs. Styles is fine.” “Dr. Styles is good.” They both reply at the same time. They turn to look at each other sharing a look.

Mr. Styles raises his hands, “Mrs. Styles, it is. She’s the boss.”

“Noted, thank you.” I offer.

“Would you like to stay?” He asks his wife.

She smiles, “I’ll be around. Can’t have you get parts of the story wrong.”

“Because you know it perfectly,” Styles teased.

She laughs, and Styles lights up like a Christmas tree at the sweet sound. “I’m the writer, dear.” She leaned in, pressing a kiss to his forehead before he squeezed her hand, letting her walk away.

Right, I'll begin. Our story begins in 2015 after my last show with One Direction. After that show finished, I was set to take a flight out to LA. There was a party my friends wanted me to attend, and I loved a good party. I had some time before boarding and decided I needed a book. Thankfully, there was a small bookshop I noticed, and I had about an hour to kill. I didn't have a large suitcase, only traveling with my duffel.

There was someone with a broken carry-on, a book tag as their identification. But that wasn't what caught my attention. It was her multicolored scarf that looked well with her outfit and not like she was puked on by a kindergartener with markers.

I knew I had to learn more, so I approached her. I felt confident. When I walked toward her, I saw she had a Bukowski book in her hand. She flipped it to the back, reading the summary, and I jumped in.

"That's a good book."

"Is it?"

She doesn't even look up at me, but it doesn't stop me.

"Yes. My friend recommended it to me?"

"Was this friend a man?"

I am getting nervous now, "yes."

"That explains it."

"Explains what?" I asked.

Finally, she looked up at me, and I forgot to breathe. She has the most gorgeous eyes, and they were looking at me, and I wanted to wrap her up and keep her forever.

"What authors have you read?"

"Uhh…Bukowski, Rob Sheffield, Murakami," I listed.

She frowns, "did you notice a problem?"

"No."

"Well, this is a gift for a colleague. He's a reader, and well, we don't get along. I got him for secret Santa and decided to gift him a book he'd hate, but he's too polite to reject in front of others."

"Kind of devious."

"Good."

"What are you getting him?"

"I have just the book."

She walks away, and I can't help but follow.

"Can I ask you something?"

"Sure, stranger."

"Would you like to go—"

"Going to stop you right there, mister."

"Oh."

She smiles; at least, I think she did. I was too busy mending my heart, trying not to panic.

"I've got to go."

Then she's off to pay for her book, and I lose her in the crowd.

I think that's the end. I'll never see her again.

Instead of trying to find her like a creep, I wallow, grabbing Alaine De Botton's book Essays in Love off the shelf. Walking to the counter, I placed my book, and the woman at the register looked at me hard. And I think she's a fan until she says there was a book I should buy.

Joan Didion's The White Album is placed in front of me.

"Who?"

"A girl with a colorful scarf. Said you had to buy it."

I don't think twice before paying and leaving. I opened the book, and on the dedication page is writing hers, I assumed.

It read: Not the best taste in books, but I can teach you. Know you wanted a date, so here's my number. Give me a call.

I did, right that second.

His wife laughs, "you did not."

Harry turns, pouting at her, "I did."

"You called me a day later."

Harry lets his shoulders drop. "Fine."

I went to my gate and read the book, deciding I needed to give it a chance if I ever thought I could stand a chance.

Well, we didn't stop talking after that.

We went out on a date two days before Christmas. Ice skating. Worst idea, she was good, and I was clumsy. She held my hand while I kept to the side like a child. It got to the point where she let me sit down, and she skated for a while longer, saying they had to get their money's worth.

"Sorry to interrupt," I voice. Mr. Styles just nodded, gesturing for me to go on. "Did she know who you were? The band was huge, like them or not. Your fame was undeniable."

Harry sighed. "She said she didn't. My wife has her doctorate. She's a professor or was for a long time. Her head was always stuck in a book, never time for new music."

I laugh, and he joins me, "she's a fan now. All that matters."

I'd like to say we fell in love that winter. We didn't say it until Spring when the flowers came, and I was set to leave for Dunkirk in May and focused on my album.

Have in mind we spent every day together, much to my liking, and her fake complaining of falling behind on work. Something I'd feel terrible about until she confessed, she got it done to focus more time on me. I whispered I love you, and she let me get on a plane to France, and then I didn't come home until August. I was in Jamaica obsessing over how she did not say it back.

It scared me.

We'd talk like usual, but I was petrified while I was away in Jamaica writing my first album that she'd find someone new. Every song I've ever written is about her since we met, and it continues.

It wasn't until I came back nicely tanned and album complete that she told me she loved me. I can assure you there were lots of tears that night.

In case you didn't catch that—the tears were all from Mr. Styles.

After that moment, everything changed. I could not see myself without her.

I knew if I lost her, I would not be the same. I was sure I'd never recover.

I knew she was it for me.

That she was meant to be my wife.

While she had all these walls up (or so I thought) keeping me out when in reality, I was so far in, she wouldn't let me leave, which is something I'm forever grateful for.

End of the summer of 2016, we met each other's families. My family went first because I was so excited about sharing her, and I wanted to prolong meeting a family of six—seven, counting my wife.

So I drove us down to Holmes Chapel, and there it was, the house I bought my mother in the town where we grew up in more secluded lots of space for flowers and future homes of cats. My wife had the best poker face, so if she was nervous, I wouldn't know it. It was not until we were well into our relationship that I learned to read her emotions like a book. The slightest nose scrunch and I would know what she was feeling.

In the car, she'd tell me she was nervous. I always spoke of my close relationship with my sister, mum, and stepdad. While I knew very little about her family except that she had two parents, four siblings, and a grandparent who loved her fiercely.

The trip home, to keep it short, was perfect. Everything I never thought would happen. Even more, she charmed them when my sister asked for Instagram and said she didn't use any. Something her family chastised her over for wanting to keep up with her. Then offered her number to my family, saying she'd love to be in touch.

I was sweating, thinking she'd be closed off, but she bloomed right before me. I was ready to get down on one knee in that instant.

She made them love her and laugh, which made me feel over the moon. I think I'm funny, but she has me beat by a long shot. Yes, so that trip solidified my love for her, as well as the deciding factor to one day marry her if that was something she wanted.

It was.

After tackling and meeting my family, it was time to meet my wife. She was a wreck assuring me we didn't have to if I was nervous. She came from such a large family that, although they loved her, made her grow up independent and alone. That's the one thing that hurt me to find out, to know she felt alone in her childhood, having four older siblings. I couldn't imagine my life without my sister, but the same sentiment wasn't felt for her as the youngest.

My wife grew up in Brighton in a lovely Victorian home in Hove Park that is passed down to the eldest child. My wife is the youngest, so we didn't get a free house.

I stifle a laugh as his wife slaps his shoulder softly, causing Styles to laugh and turn to her with a large dimpled smile.

"Excuse my husband. He's forgotten how to speak to others above the age of five."

"Rude," Styles mutters childishly.

Back to the story, she grew up in a large home with many family members. She had a difficult time bringing me home not because I was famous but because no one bothered to ask how she had been doing. Each of her siblings had postponed the meeting, which made this day even more stressful as it had finally arrived.

It was a Sunday afternoon; I had a bottle of wine and flowers in one hand and my wife's clammy hand in the other. Walking into her childhood home, it was easily noticeable what she spoke of. It was still her parent's home, and photos were everywhere, from the bookshelf to the door entrance. Twins mostly, and the occasional sibling photo of five. If you asked her parents, which I did, the answer was that she didn't like pictures.

That was true because they made her feel not included. Because the girl I met loved posing for me no matter how much she blushed. I forced her more times than not because I wanted to look back at times in our life together from the start. Also to show our future children, which we have done.

So I was ticked, but I hid it well. My wife says I have an excellent resting face. Moving on, there are hugs and handshakes. A wide smile on everyone's face saying how glad they are to meet me, asking me how I've been, all while my wife stands quiet by my side.

I'm honestly not sure what to do.

She looks like she wants to run out the door, and I'd follow her in a heartbeat. Instead, I shift the conversation to her, taking her coat and then my own. I focus on her and wait for her to whisper our code word. She doesn't, but I know she was close. We persevere and sit down for lunch. I held her hand the entire time as her family asked us questions about our relationship.

There was one question my wife answered, and her mother said that she should let me answer, saying she had spoken too much already. Which was just a lie. I was ready to shout from the rooftop when I decided no, I'd had enough. So I called our safe word, of course, after giving them a few words of our own. Then we left, and my wife showed me her favorite spots growing up in Brighton.

Mr. and Mrs. Styles grin at each other fondly.

"Are you close to her family now?"

Mr. Styles shrugs, "I doubt they'd read this. Don't like us."

"Harry," Mrs. Styles gasps. "The answer is no. We aren't close. We tried, but it didn't work out. My kids have Nana and Pops, who adore them more than enough."

Family is complicated for everyone, it seems.

We celebrated a year in December. It was her first Christmas with us, and she never missed one after.

"I joked her parents could have us for Thanksgiving." Harry laughs as if it was the best thing ever. "Cause she's English."

Having celebrated a year, I was over the moon and head over heels in love. Honestly, our relationship went through lots of tests because of my job and how much traveling I do. It was hard, but she was my pillar through it all. She was there when the first single was released, cheering me on. Also was there when we shot the music video. She wanted to get up to fly as well, but there was too much paperwork, so I took her skydiving instead.

He laughs nervously, "we can breeze past that."

I nod and gesture for him to go on.

Then the album was released in May, and she was there. She did not fail me for a single moment in my life. I failed her quite a bit, though. We shall get there soon enough. The first show came, and my heart was there in San Francisco. At this point, we had been dating close to two years and had no sightings, so it was smooth sailing, right, nope.

It was November. It was hometown shows, London first, then Manchester. It was then that we got our first pap photos, which was quite impressive. It took a year and eleven months. She was instantly overwhelmed.

When I was touring, she had come to a show; we went out for drinks after, and I held the door open for her face hidden. There was article after article, but we spun it to me being a gentleman holding it open for a stranger. She went back to school, and I kept touring. Checking in and calling as much as I could.

I remember thinking she'd end it. She went home, and I toured. Her calls and texts lessened. I had a few days off before heading to Asia, and I came home to her. She invited me in as I held back tears, thinking I'd been an idiot to show up, giving her the chance to break up with me. I rather her string me along than lose her all together.

Instead, she tackled me with kisses as soon as I sat down, I knew we were okay. Told me how uni was drowning her about wishing she could join me on tour. Gosh, that might have been the best night of my life. We spoke of her worries as well as mine. She was firm about not wanting her name out there and how she was trying to build a career. I vowed to protect her.

And well, I might have also put a ring on it then. I asked the morning after we woke up to the sun; she hated curtains. The sunrise woke her up each morning which I thought was insane, but while on tour, I always kept them open, feeling like I had a piece of her with me if I woke up when the sun did, just like her. Kicked me in the ass, but something I still do when I'm missing her like crazy.

Yes, so on our anniversary we got married. Our close friends and family were able to make it because we were so well loved. We are thankful for a lot of people who chipped in to help. A good friend of ours got ordained for us. My mom lent us her backyard, my sister was my best woman, and her best friend was her maid of honor.

It was the most perfect day.

We honeymooned until she had to return to school, and no, I won't say more. I will say it was bliss, and I'd give anything to relive those times again.

Then in March 2018, I ventured off to tour once more. She would be joining me from Asia to North America. I'm not sure how she did it, but she did. Something about not having to intern that year. The thing is, she's so brilliant I feel like she was in university forever. Except she only had a year left, so she joined. I had time planned out to visit places that would help her thesis and relax her.

We had fights, of course. It was healthy. I'd fight about the dishes, and she'd fight me, telling me it was my turn to wash the towels. Little things. Our worst fight happened when I was in Australia.

Mrs. Styles excuses herself at this time when one of her children calls for her. Perfect timing is what I heard Mr. Styles whisper.

It was two weeks before she was due to join me when everything changed.

I had gone out to celebrate a successful night. I only had one drink, knowing I was due to an early phone date with my wife. Except, something happened, and it put a lot of things into perspective. I was with my friends, all hanging out and phones out when this girl approached me. She was young, probably freshly eighteen, and she was giddy. When her friend pushed her trying to get us closer, she took that as a sign to kiss my lips, but I moved back, her lips landing on my neck instead. I called it a night then and there.

What I didn't realize was how many cameras there were on us. My phone died, and I went to sleep like that with no alarm. By the time I woke up, it was too late. My wife was hurt, rightfully so. She was waiting for me, calling and calling and nothing. A friend texted her the article. I was on the cover with what looked like a girl clinging to me. She didn't believe it.

No one knew I was taken, so they assumed I was having a wild night. But I was–am a married man. I guess I was too tired to think of the consequences. Her sister gave her a call saying she was sorry. That no one deserved to be cheated on. That cracked her a bit, but she was holding hope for my phone call. It didn't come until hours later. I had talked to my manager before I talked to my wife.

I called, and it rang.

Voicemail.

I called five times before she answered.

It was silent on the line.

"Love."

"Truth?"

"Always, my heart."

"Okay."

"That is me, but she brushed my neck. She stumbled into me, and I pushed her off. Nothing else."

She was silent.

"Okay?"

"Okay."

More silence.

"Harry?"

"Yes, my heart."

"I need time."

I felt my heart shatter in two. We never had a fight and did not fix it, especially when I was not there in person.

"No, please," I begged.

"I'm in London. In our home, I get a call from everyone but you."

"Let me fix it, please."

"Then give me time. Time to mend. You missed our date that you planned."

"Sweetheart, I'm sorry. I'll come home." I would do anything at this point. "I love you."

"I know, H."

"Will I see you at Heathrow?" We were flying out together to Asia. I did not want her to do it alone, even if it meant more travel time for me.

"I love you."

And then the call disconnected.

I was a mess. Served excellent writing material, but honestly, I needed her. I called her daily and sent her texts. She answered a few. When the day came to meet me, I wasn't sure if she was coming, and I understood if she decided not to.

My wife surprised me, sitting on her luggage in the private lounge. I ran into her arms and cried. We held each other, assuring each other that we'd be okay. It was a few rocky days, but we made it through. As we have the last twenty years.

While I apologized over and over again, she told me that she wouldn't leave me alone, not when she had promised that she'd stand by his side through the hard times. She might be upset with me, but not enough to stop herself from going and creating new memories together.

That December was special. We were going to celebrate our one year together as husband and wife, but my wife was finishing her Doctorate. The ceremony was significant to her. Everyone in her life had promised to come, including her parents and siblings, but that never concerned her.

The only person she wanted to attend despite everyone going was me, and I almost broke her heart.

Mr. Styles shakes his head, taking a deep breath before continuing with the story.

My wife had to arrive earlier as the graduates had to prepare so her friend picked her up and I promised to meet her there in my reserved seat. I decided I could get a few hours in the studio at home. I know it was foolish of me, but I was so excited for her that I was filled with inspiration. Then a few hours go by, and I see I have plenty of time and get ready. As I am getting ready, I get a call from Mitch that it's packed and I should be parking already.

"It starts at three. I've got time."

"No, H. She said she'd meet you at three after. This starts in less than an hour."

Mr. Styles clears his throat. "See, she was living in Oxford finishing her degree, so I got us a small home for the time being. It was close by, and she begged me we didn't need a home when we could live comfortably in her apartment. We did for some time, but she deserved more. Back to the story."

My eyes widen, and I grab my suit jacket and rush out of the house, starting the car.

"I'll be there soon. Promise."

"It's not me you gotta promise."

I know this. I do.

I say a silent prayer in hopes of making it on time and hoping she wouldn't learn about my foolish mistakes.

Traffic is not awful, but the worst happens as I am close to arriving at her university, and my car breaks down. I have no concern about dealing with that. So instead, I call up a friend who can come meet the tow truck, and I grab my suit jacket and begin to run, hoping for once I am not recognized as I have somewhere important to be.

More than ever, I don't want to fail her.

I'm not sure how I did it, but I see Mitch waiting for him, a classic frown on his head as he shakes his head at me.

"It's full there. No way you make it to your seat unnoticed."

I sigh, "shit."

"Jeff has seats towards the back, or we can stand."

"Let's stand."

Fuck.

I was officially the worst husband, all she wanted today was to be able to see me in my seat, but all she would see was the reserved sign.

I shot her a text and hoped she'd see it before they called her name. Now all I had to do was wait to see her after and hope she'd forgive me for being late for the most important date of her life. I was proud and nervous and shaking from how in awe I was of my wife. She was brilliant and passionate in her learning, allowing her to reach her goals, and I was proud to be by her side witnessing it.

The list of names was long, and I was tired of waiting. I was ready to see her in the full robe with bell-shaped sleeves. The body of the robe was made from scarlet cloth, and the facings down the front of the gown and sleeves were a blue satin.

She had come all excited, ready to show me, stripping off her coat and throwing it on the floor instead of hanging it up like she always did. The bag it came in was dropped on the floor as she quickly assembled the pieces and put them on.

The smile on her face was contagious, and soon tears were running down my face. She looked gorgeous, and I was so proud of her accomplishments. I saw how hard she worked and all the hours she put into her research. The publications and rejections, and she never faltered. All while supporting my dreams and endeavors.

It felt like ages for her name to be called, but when they finally did, I was the first to let out a loud cheer, our friends joining in soon after. She moved across the stage, standing tall, shaking hands, and received her diploma that we'd proudly display in our home until we moved it to her office when we moved into our forever home.

I watched her glide across the stage, graceful and angelic. As she looked out into the crowd, she looked around for only a second before I felt her eyes land on me. There was so much love pouring out of me I knew she could see it. She didn't even quirk an eyebrow at my new position. Instead, she blew a kiss and made her way off the stage.

The next hour was impossibly slow, I had to wait to have her in my arms, but I was counting down the minutes. As soon as all the graduates were released, I rushed outside with Mitch and the rest of our friends who were there supporting my partner, my heart. Strolling too slow to my liking was my wife and her two friends by her side. One by one, they hugged her before moving toward their family, leaving her to walk down towards me with the biggest smile.

"H," she breathed out.

I was overwhelmed seeing her in her regalia. It was clear she was glowing after years of hard work. Her biggest dream had been achieved, and I got to be at her side cheering her on.

I took her in my arms, breathing in her familiar scent, happy to have her in my arms. I am so proud. I'm pleased to be here supporting her as she has done for me countless times.

"You're an idiot, but you're mine," she tells me as she presses a kiss on my cheek.

"You're not mad," I gasp.

She shakes her head, a giant smile on her face. "You'll make it up to me. I already know."

I hug her tight, "always, forever."

"Let's go get some photos and then eat. I'm starving," she tells me after greeting all their friends and linking her arm with all their friends falling behind.

"Anything the Doctor wants, the Doctor gets."

"The following year was nothing but bliss. I was working on the next album, and my wife was working as a professor. It seemed that I started writing Fine Line as soon as my first album was finished. We were settled comfortably in life, having a daily routine where she cooked us breakfast, we texted at lunch, and I had dinner prepared when she walked through the doors." Mr. Styles sighed, lost in thought. "Every moment with her is unforgettable."

2019 had been rushing by, and I was eager to release the album. My wife helped me choose the single, one of her favorite songs. The music video was fun to shoot, and I was glad I was able to convince her to join me in the video. December has become a big month for us, and it seemed fitting that I wanted the next album in that month.

On December 13, my second album would be released, and it was all planned out perfectly. That's when life hits you with the unexpected. A few days before "Lights Out" was set to be released, while fans were finding "Do you know who you are" murals, I was sitting against the bathtub holding my wife's hand as we waited for the timer to ring that would let us check the five pregnancy tests she had taken to see if she was pregnant.

To see if we were going to become parents.

I didn't see it coming, and neither did my wife. She had felt sick and thought it was just a common cold. I was quick to look after her making her tea and my mum's famous chicken soup she loved. Except as soon as she took a single bite, it had her rushing into the restroom as she puked into the toilet. I held her hair back, telling her it'd be okay. When I rushed to the kitchen to get her sparkling water to settle her stomach, she leaned against the bathtub pregnancy test on her lap.

I stop right in front of her, taking in the small tests that have the power to change our life.

"Do you–"

She shrugs, "I haven't made you make a chocolate visit to the store yet."

"Do you want to do them?"

She nods, "I think we should."

I told her to take all five, so we could be sure. Those ten minutes were the longest of my life. Not a word was said, not because we were upset but because we were processing it. There was so much coming our way that starting a family was not in the plans so soon.

After my alarm rang, we both got up quietly. I stayed a few steps behind her, letting her have the first look. I was too nervous to see the results because, as busy as we were, I wouldn't be able to hide my disappointment if we weren't pregnant.

That October, when my single was released for my second album, I was at the clinic for our first ultrasound. I heard our child's heartbeat and cried because our family was growing. I cried because my wife gave me the best gift I could ever receive. Our lives were changing, and I was ready.

It was in November when everything changed. She was three months pregnant, and we were going to another appointment. I ensured she always had enough water and was taking her vitamins. She pouted when her jeans stopped fitting, claiming they ruined the sense of style she had adopted. She transitioned to wearing oversized hoodies and my new favorite dresses at all times.

"You know, I think this baby is growing too fast," she tells me as we wait for her name to be called.

I laugh, looking down at her hands and rubbing her stomach gently. "Why is that?"

"I'm huge," she exclaims quietly to me. "They say you shouldn't pop until around your fifth month. I'm at four."

I can sense her worry and kiss her forehead. "Every pregnancy is different, my heart. You know that."

She grumbles under her breath, and I know I said the wrong thing. "Would it make you feel better if we asked the Doctor?"

"Yes."

"Then we will."

Soon we were called back, and I helped her change into the hospital gown and then settled the blanket over her as they waited for the doctor to come in. Not long after, Dr. Strand comes in with a faint smile and a clipboard in hand.

"Hello, parents, how are you doing?"

After the initial questions, the ultrasound begins, and just like the first time, I can't help but tear up. That's our baby we're hearing and seeing. That's the baby my partner and I created, and she is nurturing and growing for us.

"Well…"

"What?" I asked, panicked.

"It explains why you feel like you're growing quickly."

I'm confused but let Dr. Strand continue. She moves around a bit before pointing toward the screen.

"There are your babies. They're kicking." Dr. Strand tells us.

I look in awe, then she moves her hand to another blob. "This is baby B, who was hiding behind baby A."

"Two babies," I breathe out.

The smile on my wife's face is enormous. It's as if she knew her mother's intuition had already started working.

"A and B. Next visit, we can check genders if you wish." She waits for a response, but we're taking a moment to let it sink in that we're having two children and not one.

My wife has tears streaming down her face, and I know my face mirrors the same. I take her hand in mind pressing kiss after kiss.

"Our babies," she whispers.

"Ours," I responded.

"We don't want to know. We'll wait. That okay, H?" She responds for us.

I nod because it doesn’t matter. I love them so much, and I know I'll love them even more, when I finally get to hold them in a few months.

We didn’t immediately tell our families. Maybe it was nerves but also wanting to keep it ours for a moment longer. There were only so many times my wife could pull off the lazy look before our friends and family got suspicious.

Before the album dropped in December and we began to prepare for Night Only, I had decided it was time. My wife encouraged me to do it sooner, but I wanted to hold off because I knew it would not be an easy conversation. Jeff, of course, didn’t take the news well. We had just announced Love on Tour Europe and North America. Touring would become more challenging but not impossible, is what he told me.

Except I wanted to push back the tour a bit as she was due the month tour started. There was nothing more I wanted than to be by her side for the first few months. It was a lot of back and forth, but I stayed firm on my answer. I was meant to be by my family’s side.

December 13th was a perfect day. I had my wife in the audience of a sold-out show. My idol Stevie Nicks came out to sing a song with me. There was nothing better than the album release. Well, almost, telling my family about the pregnancy was next because she was showing now. It meant everyone had to be more protective and vigilant, making sure to never get a camera in a shot that had the potential of being released. My mum cried tears when finding out it was twins, my sister claimed dibs on being the best aunt ever (there was no doubt she would be), and my friends told me it was only a matter of time.

A month before my babies were born, the tour postponement was announced. It was chaos, but I was in bliss, hiding away at home with my pregnant wife awaiting our children’s arrival. I knew soon enough I’d have to face it, but now I was happy to be at home.

Mr. Styles laughs as he thinks of the next part of his story.

My wife comes from a family of twins. She’s not a twin and the only one to have twins. Perfect she is. I’m fortunate. She never lets me forget it either.

Mr. Styles pauses to have some coffee that his wife made for him. He expressed how the drink was perfect when she made it, and then he tried to recreate the cup when she wasn’t there, which turned out awful.

“I use a secret ingredient,” she shares, squeezing her husband’s hand.

Mrs. Styles returned to join us to continue the story by Mr. Styles’ side.

“The twins were the reason you postponed tour, right?”

“Yes, and I got a lot of heat from it.”

“From the fans?”

He nods, “and my management. Think the only support I got was from my wife.”

She laughs, “it was unexpected, but twins alone, I’m not sure I would have survived.”

“My wife comes from a family of twins, and she’s the only one who doesn’t have one, so you can imagine our surprise when we find out we’re expecting two.”

“A joy you can’t describe, I imagine.”

“Right, again.”

As the due date got closer and closer, I got more worried and anxious. Making sure she was always eating and resting. Never doing anything she wasn’t supposed to. Never lifting a finger. It was nice being able to care for her, but my wife was over it. She hated that I did everything for her, from helping her shower to sitting on the couch.

The date loomed close, and then it passed. No signs of our babies coming. We feared them coming too soon, but it seemed they loved being with their mum a bit too much. Dr. Strand assured us it was customary to give it a few days. It was three a.m., and I had just fallen asleep after my wife made me stay up to watch the Harry Potter movies again. As much as I love them, I needed a break. She assured me she’d be fine until I woke up to her yelling for me from our bathroom. She held her stomach with a smile as she stared down at the puddle on the floor.

“They’re ready.”

I felt my heart speed up and moved to grab her, wanting her to step away from the liquid in fear of her slipping. I kissed her, and it was perfect. We were officially becoming a family of four. It would no longer just be us.

I was ready.

“Let’s go have our babies, my heart. We waited long enough.”

After a long eight hours, at eleven a.m. Milan and Siena were born only two minutes apart, giving no time to recover, both eager to come into the world. No moment in my life could be rivaled by seeing our children placed in my wife’s arms. To see her stare at our children full of love knowing she was already the best mother. I knew we were in for the best adventure of our life.

We were full of nerves when we were allowed to go home a few days later, but I knew we’d be just fine. The guests were endless. My mum spent time with us to my wife’s and I joy as she reminded us to sleep and eat because otherwise, we’d spend every moment just staring at our babies that were already beginning to change.

Once Milan and Siena turned six months old, it was time to return to work. Not in the studio but for my second film, Don’t Worry Darling with Florence Pugh, directed by Olivia Wilde. At this point, we were naturals at changing diapers and getting them to sleep. It was not easy, but together it was possible. Taking them to Los Angeles to film for a few months would be stressful because the paparazzi were more ruthless. Thankfully, Mitch and Sarah were here, and my wife knew she had people in her corner that would help whenever she called. I remember she surprised me on set one day, left the twins with Jeff and his then fiancé, now wife Glenne, and I had the best time with her in my trailer.

Mrs. Styles slaps his arm, making Mr. Styles burst out laughing, “it’s not like I could show her off like I wanted to. So I hid her for the day.”

She rolls her eyes, looking at me, “I was not hidden. Those NDA’s were solid. I met the director and his co-star Florence Pugh.”

“Who you’re good friends with now,” I state.

“All thanks to me,” Mr. Styles says proudly.

“Yes, all thanks to him. I also met Chris Pine. I could have talked with him for hours,” she confesses.

“Hey, now!” Mr. Styles acted offended. We all know it’s an act.

“While Harry was off filming and Chris wasn’t needed, we were found at catering exchanging books he had in his trailer and that I had brought with me.” She gushes. It's apparent books are a big passion of hers.

“They formed a book club.”

Mrs. Styles leaned in close, poking his cheek. “Don’t act jealous. You joined the club, as did Gemma.”

“Chan,” Mr. Styles added. “Sorry, Gems, my sister.”

“Shall we continue?” I asked.

Having her on set was a joy because she saw me work on a new job, something she’d never seen me do before. It was a new world for us, but we managed well. I was grateful she allowed me to work and followed me to Los Angeles because her career was just as important to me. The thing is, she had ample opportunities in Los Angeles as well. Our schedules were busy, but our children always came first. Something we both remembered during every commitment we signed up on.

Filming was going to happen through the new year, and we were okay with that. New Year to us could happen anywhere as long as we were together. We had friends here in the city who always welcomed us with open arms, except we only reached out to a select few that knew about our kids. It’s a secret we wanted to keep for a long time, and so far, we are managing it well.

In January, I officiated my best friend and manager's wedding, and it was a family affair. Sadly the twins were not in attendance, but they were in the best hands with my mum and sister. It was a fun night. Mum and dad got the day off. I woke up to a lovely view–of my balcony overlooking the ocean. The newlyweds did pick a stunning location.

I continued working on the film after. Long days too long nights with the twins. There were many challenges where we’d want to go out on a stroll together but feared being seen, so she’d take them on her own. It was a Saturday, and I was convinced no one would spot us. There was a farmer’s market we were strolling through, the twins napping, not a care in the world about the chatter going around them. My wife stopped at every stall, sampling marmalade and fresh fruit and even buying handmade baby clothes with little bees and, as she said, “were too cute to resist.” It was when she left me with the pram that someone recognized me. Her attention is caught by a sample of cherries, her weakness. I smiled at the person who spotted me, trying to make myself look unapproachable but to no avail.

“Hi Harry,” the young fan greeted. They had a tight hold of their tote bag, obviously nervous but not as nervous as I was at the moment.

“Hello, how are you?” I shifted my feet, moving an inch away from the sleeping bubs.

“Good. I just wanted to tell you that, uh,” the fan looked away, obviously overwhelmed.

“You alright?” I asked, knowing I’ve had similar experiences and still do when I meet one of my idols.

“Yeah, uh. Good. I’ve just looked up to you for a long time. I’m glad you’re taking time for yourself.”

I’m not sure what to say, I knew the fan reaction wasn’t positive, but this was kind. I felt good for putting my family first. Before I could reply, my wife returned at a slower pace, sunglasses and hat on her head disguising her face.

“Thank you for watching the pram.” My wife thanks me as if I’m just another kind stranger she found on the street, and I know she saw me speaking with the fan. I’m thankful for her quick thinking.

“Glad I could help, precious babies you have,” I tell her with a small smile.

“My sister needed a day off, and I’m happy to give it to her.” She tells him. “Good day.” She offers one last smile to me and the waiting fan.

As I finish signing the fan’s journal, and sigh with relief when she doesn’t ask for a photo. I keep walking, trying to make it seem like I’m interested in what the vendors offer, but I’m dying to go back to my wife, who I know is waiting in the car a few streets away.

When I got back to the car, my wife had the car on and was listening to my album, Milan and Siena, now wide awake, both with a bottle my wife was holding up for them.

“This is the life, huh?” She joked.

Except, it was. The life we are building together is the life I have always wanted since the moment she walked into my life.

After wrapping in February, we headed home for a month's break. March was eventful in our home as Siena took her first steps, and Milan said his first word, “mum,” to no one’s surprise but my own. I was rooting for that first word to be “dad,” but it seemed my wife won him over. A few days after Milan, Siena began tom, but she didn’t say mum or dad. No, our little one said milk. That sounded more like “ilk,” but we understood. Milan started walking as well; wanting to follow his sister around was much easier on two feet than crawling.

I began filming My Policeman in April. My family was thrilled we were home. There was always someone dropping by to visit my wife with a cooked meal or wanting to cuddle the twins. I felt relaxed going to work, knowing constant people were checking in on her. Not that she needed it, I know she liked being home with them, but it could get overwhelming with two babies to look after. My wife made it look easy. She was a true superhero.

During the start of filming, Milan and Siena celebrated a significant milestone, turning one year old. It was a small party with our family coming down and showering them with presents. Gemma brought them each a cake of their own. That they happily smashed into; the photos are a favorite of mine to look back on; my wife quickly had them framed up around the house. Being part of these milestones is important, and I’m glad to be there for each one.

Thankfully, My Policeman took around two and half months to film, and it was right at home. It was quicker than I anticipated, but I enjoyed getting to know the cast, especially getting to work closely with Emma and David.

“Did you bring your wife to set again?” I pause him to ask.

Mr. Styles smirks, looking at his wife before turning back to face me again. “She asked me to take her because she wanted to meet Emma. She was a big fan of The Crown, especially of Emma.

“He’s not wrong. Emma is lovely.” She adds in, clearly embarrassed by how she shoves him lightly. His giggles die down as he presses a kiss on her cheek.

I finally finished filming, and my team was excited because it meant I would be back on the road again. I was excited; the twins were old enough to travel more easily. They loved being on a plane. We learned either they were looking out the window or sleeping peacefully.

It was time for Love on Tour. Everyone had waited long enough, and as much as I love my family, my wife knew I was buzzing to be on stage again. As much as my wife loved her job as a professor, she knew it was time for a change. She began to write her book as well as write more journal articles.

“Can you read this over, H?”

I dry my hands on the kitchen towel, taking a seat next to her, trying to see what she needs me to read, knowing fully well she has a long list of colleagues and friends she can shoot this to in a quick email.

“I wasn’t alive in 1868, so I don’t know how much help I could give you.”

“Dork,” she mutters as she pushes the laptop over, giving me a proper look for the article she’s written about Frederick Bacon Barwell. Everything makes sense. All I input is erasing her last period and then adding it back because I know it will get her to laugh, and it does.

“Right, that means you’d have to include me as partial editor.”

“Who should I send the check out to for all your hard work?” She sasses back.

“My wife handles that. I’ll put you in contact.”

“Dork,” she repeats once again.

“And all yours.”

Love on Tour 2021 kicks off in Vegas, and it’s a whirlwind. It’s a weird schedule we settled on, but it works. We travel on the tour bus and private plane when absolutely necessary. The twins run around as they please between my dressing room to Mitch and Sarah’s, where their small bubba is still on the younger side compared to the one-year-old twins. The best of cousins already, as they loved sharing their toys with him. It’s a big reason we hired Melinda, a nanny that helped with the children, because my wife could handle two but three well. That was just asking for too much.

The kids liked being in the audience with their giant headphones watching me on stage, not that we did it often. I still thought they were too small and curious for their own good to be out there long. As long as I knew they were watching and hearing me backstage, it was all okay.

On days off or travel days, I made sure to give my wife the afternoon to herself to get work done or take a more extended bath than she usually would. She’s doing so much for me, and I wanted to do the same. She got a lot of work done as the months followed, and as the tour was coming to a close, she was just as close to finishing her book that would soon be sent to her editor and published soon after the revisions. It was a long process, but I was proud, and she knew that.

Winding down from the tour, we celebrated four years of marriage in December. We took a weekend trip away from the twins to celebrate. I took her to Italy, as it’s one of the first places we traveled to when we first got together. It was a magical month, as December usually is.

The New Year went by quickly, the twins having the most fun getting to dress up and make new year wishes with us. All I could ask for was happiness and health for my family. It’s a wish that stays constant in my life. For my birthday that year, I got the best surprise.

My wife had planned a surprise party at home with our close friends and family. The twins had no idea what we were celebrating, but they were over the moon when they got to smash the cake in my face. When everyone had gone home, and Siena and Milan were sleeping peacefully in bed, my wife decided to give me my present. I had waited all day for it, knowing she always manages to surprise me each year, and this year she might have topped it.

Inside a box that I tried my best not to rush opening, making my wife laugh as she could tell how nervous I was, and it wasn’t until I took off the lid that I saw three pregnancy tests with a single sonogram inside.

“My heart, this isn’t funny,” I whispered, but I knew it wasn’t a joke. I knew what I was looking at and was just in disbelief.

“It’s real, H. I’m pregnant.” She promised me.

“Our baby is in there?” I ask, resting my hand on her stomach. The tears are now falling quickly, and I’m not bothered to wipe them away.

“Yeah, think we’ll get another pair?” She asks me.

“I hope so,” I answered honestly, and I did. We struggled a lot with twins, but we are a team, and we could do anything together.

We did not share the news with our family for a few months, wanting to be in the clear when we announced it. My wife and I got to enjoy the first months to our enjoyment and not having to discuss the morning sickness she was going through. It was the day before Mother’s Day, and my wife had an appointment where we’d get to see how the baby or babies were doing. My wife was positive we were having twins again, but I wasn’t sure.

How lucky could we be?

And, as always, my wife was right. Dr. Strand showed us two heartbeats and two blurred beans in the ultrasound. My wife assured me that was the best Mother’s Day gift she could have received. It was the best present for me as well. It also meant we’d have even more spoiling to do when tomorrow is her special day.

Time moved as quickly as it felt because soon it was April, and I was releasing a new single for my new album Harry’s House. It’s funny because many fans listened to the lyrics and guessed I might have a secret family, but they all shut each other down quickly. Leaving things up for interpretation is always much more fun. We were in for a busy time as I would now be touring in Europe throughout my wife’s pregnancy, and there were people we had to tell, but we started with the most important. Milan and Siena.

We sat Milan and Siena down to tell them the news.

“Mummy and Daddy have something they want to share,” I told Siena and Milan.

Siena and Milan stared at each other nervously, bouncing in their seats. They could tell how nervous we were or how nervous I was. They never expressed wanting more siblings when they had each other.

“Mummy’s pregnant,” I told them as my wife placed her hands over her belly, her shirt lifted so our children could see the bump starting to bulge out.

“Baby?” Milan asked.

“That’s right, sweetie.” My wife smiled at him, “there are two babies.”

Siena held up two fingers. “I’m two.”

I chuckled, “that you are. Now two babies are growing in your mum’s tummy just like when she had you.”

They lose their attention soon after that when Teddy comes to lay in their lap. My wife and I turn to stare at each other and just laugh. It couldn’t have gone any better.

April rolled in, beginning a new era for me professionally. I was releasing the first single for my third album. There was a tiny hint to my family, but it seemed no one thought anything more of it. I was thankful. Even better, we celebrated the twins’ second birthday, which was an ever bigger affair than the first. The presents doubled, and the cakes only got bigger.

It was becoming one of our best years, but there were still many logistics to figure out with my wife being pregnant and the Europe tour ending close to her due date where she would no longer be able to travel with me. My wife was calm about all this while I was close to losing my head. I loved having her on tour, but it wouldn’t be possible past July. I didn’t want to leave her alone, pregnant and with our rambunctious toddlers. That’s when I realized just how much my wife was loved because my mum insisted she’d move in for the time being while I was away, and everyone else promised to swing by, allowing her time to herself but also for her not to be stressed out.

Harry’s House was written for my wife, not that all my other albums were not. This one held more of her story that I allowed myself to write and share with her. Matilda is a song we both got attached to because it speaks of all she went through, something I would never understand but to show her that I listened and that I was there for her. I was thankful she allowed me to share my heart about something so personal with the world. Especially seeing how everyone reacted to the song. I knew she was proud of me, but I was prouder of her for continuing to choose me every day.

I began in Glasgow at Ibrox Stadium to kick off my return to Europe. A sold-out stadium of over 50,000 people came to see me. It was surreal. It’s something the team pushed, saying we were ready, that I was ready. The nerves I got before on stage were like never before. My wife was there by my side, and Milan and Siena were with my mum, whom we’d be seeing in Manchester in a few days for my home show. Walking out that day, I was proud because I’d accomplished so much, and this was something else to add to the list, but I knew nothing would top the fantastic family I had created.

My wife and I say goodbye in Sweden as she flies home with Glenne and my sister to ensure she arrives safely. She wanted to go by train, but that was a big no for me. I prefer her to get home quickly in a few hours. While she prepared for the arrival of our second set of twins, I was finishing off a tour. I was enjoying every moment, but as soon as I got off that stage, I was on the phone checking in with her wanting to hear about how annoying they were today because she had to pee so much. She told me all about how the twins put on a talent show for her, and she recorded it so I could see it. Every day was a countdown until I could be home again.

After that final show to end the Europe leg, I was on the first flight home to my wife and my kids. I arrived in the early hours of the day. To my surprise, they were all cuddled in our king-size bed that I fought my wife on, stating it was too much space, but now I could see it was enough as Siena and Milan took up two-thirds of the bed while my wife slept on her side her pregnancy pillow at her side, the only thing that allows her to sleep.

My beautiful family and soon to add two more. Little did I know that a day after I arrived, the twins would decide to grace us with their presence. It was dinner time. We all finished eating when Siena shouted, “Mummy, you spilled water.” My wife standing with no cup in her hand or around her, looked down to see the floor wet and knew that her water had broken.

“Oh my.” My wife braced herself against the table as she felt a contraction hit her. I hurried to her side, doing my best to have her follow my breathing just like the birthing classes taught us. “Call your sister.”

“On it,” I shouted. “Kids, Auntie Gemma is coming. Mummy and I have to go now.”

It all seemed to be happening so fast, but twelve hours later, Edin and Camden Styles were welcomed into the family. Gemma brought them along, eager to be reunited as a family. I helped them up one by one on the bed as my wife held Edin and Camden like a pro from the practice she got from Siena and Milan. Siena seemed amazed at the small wrapped babies, while Milan only wanted cuddles from his mother, not a care for his younger siblings. A perfect day indeed.

2022 into 2023 was my longest year. I did Harry’s House residency starting in Canada in August and not ending until March. It was a lot. There was lots of joy, but it was also hard to explain to the kids when they’d be at home again to see their Nana and her cats. Edin and Camden were doing excellent; my wife worried about traveling with them so young. My wife didn’t join me until my New York residency began because she wanted them to be a little bigger and stronger and get the doctor’s clearance. When I saw them again, I felt like they all got bigger. Siena was not taller than Milan, and Camden had stretched out. Edin has now grown more hair and was beginning to resemble mine.

My wife was a true superhero. She looked amazing as if she’d been doing this all her life. Once we were alone that first night, she confessed she was tired. That she didn’t want to do it without me. I appreciated her honesty, and with the help of everyone around us, we made it work. To this day, I know we could have conquered the world together, but we didn’t have to.

After the longest year, I decided to take a break. It’s one that I owe to my family. I wanted to give them stability and the chance to get to know the city they call home and see family we’d been far away from. While I worked on small projects, my wife got back into work, having postponed a lot due to our children. She’d constantly work on research articles when she had the time, but now I was giving her the opportunity to go back to her career just as she had given me.

I was the stay-at-home dad. Spent all day with our children was excellent, and as much as I knew they loved me, all our kids adored her. They swore a kiss from her would fix all their problems. And they would. A kiss always fixed all of mine. We grew together as a family, building a routine, planting in the garden, and dancing in the kitchen. Our children only made us fall in love even more.

Life went on, children grew, I wrote and released music, my wife furthered her research, and before we knew it, our tenth wedding anniversary was upon us.

“You renewed vows?” I was surprised.

Mr. Styles chuckles, “we did. Thought it should be a whole family affair now that we’re a family affair of six and would not be adding more.”

“When did you decide you wouldn’t have more children?”

Mrs. Styles sighed, “think it was more me. I liked that they were in pairs. No matter what, they’d always have someone to rely on for everything in life.”

“Also, her favorite number is six,” Mr. Styles chimed in. “We thought it was a sign.”

Our vow renewal was a private affair; it was us, our kids, my family, and close friends. There were less than twenty of us. If we want to be specific, it happened in Italy, the Amalfi Coast. The kids dressed up, all wanting to dress with my wife because she had the surprise dress, and well, my suit was nice but nothing compared to her. Edin, five at the time, walked with Milan (7). Camden (5) and Siena (7) walked together. We trusted the older siblings to walk the young ones because they were known to get distracted and wonder if they didn’t have one of their siblings at their side. I can proudly say I cried when they all walked down the aisle right into my arms. They stood by my side as we waited for my wife and their mother to make her entrance, and what an entrance it was.

As my wife made it down to us, her family, I had tears streaming down my face because I knew how lucky I was to have her in my life. That the life we had created was magical and perfect. Everything we ever dreamed of, and I’m glad we could keep it ours. We partied all night–well until the kids passed out at eight, and we followed soon after. We know we could have had someone take them for the night, but it was perfect because we were together.

Now life was not as easy as I described it. Well, at least I didn’t make it that easy. It seemed that no matter what I did, I was always in some new article or making recent headlines. The rumors were getting to me, and I had enough, and I told my wife as much.

I found her sitting on the couch watching the telly and tossed a few magazines on our coffee table that she didn’t even bat an eye at.

“Love?”

Ignored.

“Baby?”

One again ignored.

“My heart?”

That is when I noticed she was hiding her face in the blanket, laughing to see how long I’d realize. I grumbled how ridiculous she was, but the smile on my face said otherwise.

“There’s more headlines.”

She shrugged and laughed them off.

“What if they’re true?” I asked.

She looked at me, all joy wiped away from her way, “you would be wearing that ring right there.” She pointed to the wedding ring I wore proudly, never taking it off and fans not thinking more of it.

I let all my emotions go and cried on the couch. All these emotions weighed me down, and I wanted it to end. I just wanted to enjoy performing and coming home to my family without talking about who I’m seen with or lack of.

“I hate them. I do,” I whispered, my head in her lap as she brushed her hand through my growing curls.

“It’s why you protect our kids and me,” she reminded me.

“With my life.”

Stadiums were a fun part of my life. My wife joined me, and so did the kids. It was a wonderful summer seeing all these fantastic venues I only ever dreamed of doing on my own. We built a scrapbook of the children at all the arenas and stadiums they’ve been to because we want them to look back at this. To see that they had a large part in my career journey. I always put them first and will continue to do so for the rest of my life.

As I watched my four children get older, I grew more protective and nervous. I was definitely the stricter parent, if you could believe that. My wife had that special relationship with them that if something ever happened, they’d go to her first.

“Mum’s a doctor, dad, and you sing on stage.” Siena had told him when he asked her one day.

I sighed, knowing they weren’t wrong. They usually weren’t.

All children make mistakes, and they’ve gone through their fair share. Now I won’t share any because they are my children, which would invade their privacy. I will tell you now that my oldest are seventeen and off to uni. My youngest are fourteen and are staying home with us for a few more years. The one thing I’ve always asked of my children was to be themselves and vulnerable. That we’d always be there, even more so as they got older. The reminder that they’d never be alone.

“My wife is heartbroken that Milan and Siena are leaving us.” Mr. Styles confesses with a hidden smile.

His wife elbows him lightly in the stomach, causing him to jump and shuffle closer to her instead of away. He really gravitates towards her. “You cried when they told you they were leaving.

Mr. Styles mocks offense, “she’s not wrong.”

I laugh, enjoying the banter happening in front of me. Mr. Styles focuses his attention back on the story.

The pride and joys of my life are my four children. Each one is different and forever teaches me more about life, and I thought I had learned it all. Milan has taught me to listen and never rush someone if they aren’t ready. Siena taught me that I didn’t need to have all the answers as long as I showed them support. Edin showed me the importance of always showing up. Camden proved to me that although I wasn’t ready to be a dad, it was the best decision I ever made. These are my life lessons, and I know they’ll only continue to teach me more.

Ultimately, I’m proud. There is a lot of love and trust. It’s something we taught them from a young age because all though we were keeping the biggest secret, we wanted them to know the importance of telling the truth. Each of them is independent, saying they want to take after my wife, who stands tall on her own, but with her family at her side, only shines brighter.

“Now we’ve caught up to the original timeline, so to say.” Mr. Styles shrugs as if what he just spoke about for the last hour won’t shake the entire world. “I’m in love, and I couldn’t be happier.” He giggles, holding up his wife’s hand proudly.

I can’t hold back my laugh because it’s a declaration many people make when first going public with a relationship. Mr. Styles statement is true. His happiness radiates off of him. I haven’t stopped smiling since I was welcomed into his home.

“Please know this will be the last I speak of my family,” Mr. Styles states firmly.

Fair.

“World’s best-hidden secret,” I tell him honestly.

“And I wouldn’t change it for the world,” he vows. “Also, if you had my wife as a professor, specifically class of 2017 when she was a TA. Thank you for keeping our secret.” Mr. Styles laughs as he shares that small bit of information while his wife hides her face in his shoulder.

I sit back in shock. “People knew?”

Styles shakes his head, “like five people who loved visiting her office hours.”

Mrs. Styles laughs, lost in the memory her husband brought up. “Still speak with a few of them. One is an orthopedic doctor, another a neurosurgeon. Another is a best-selling author.”

It’s wonderful to hear the impact she had.

“What’s your career like?” I couldn’t help but ask.

She smiles, grateful, “this isn’t about me.”

Mr. Styles grins, kissing her cheek. “My wife is brilliant. She’s got so many degrees under her belt as well as a published book. Doctor of Arts. She works with paintings. Discovered an old one and got to write all about it since it was her specialty.”

“Tell them,” Styles encourages. “This new job has us traveling on her part for a few weeks, and the kids enjoy it. I do too.”

Mrs. Styles sits there trying to hide her flushed face, “my husband is very proud, but I’m retired.”

“Lies, she works—” A hand flies to cover his mouth.

“Don’t need people flooding my workplace.”

I chuckle, “well, it’s wonderful to hear about your work. Art is valuable in both of your lives, from music to paintings.”

“Thank you.” She answered graciously, knowing I was eager to pry some more, and her husband was close to doing so.

“Anything else you want to share, Mr. Styles?” I ask, having wrapped up the last of my questions.

Mr. Styles shrugs, “no, everything else will stay mine.”

“Very well.”

We all stand up from the couch as they lead me to the door.

“Dad! Mum!” Someone yelled from the top of the stairs.

“So close,” Mr. Styles mutters to his wife.

“Walking our friend out the door.”

“Can we meet them?” A soft voice asks.

I spot a head of curls pop from the side of the stairs, and I see that Mrs. Styles approaches them.

“Mum, she interviewed all the Bake-off contestants this season.”

I’m biting back a laugh because, of course, they’re fans of a well-loved show by all. Who knew that would have put me on the children's radar?

Mrs. Styles stares at her husband, saying the decision is in his hands.

He mumbles a low “for fucks’s sake.”

“Yes, it’s fine.” He turns back to me. “Are you alright with that?”

“Only if you are.” I tried my best to assure him.

“Alright, be polite, or I’ll sell all your books.” He sternly tells his children with the biggest smile on his face.

“Yeah, right,” his wife tells him.

He feigns hurt, putting on a great act as the Oscar winner he is, “All against me.”

In front of me stand four adolescents, and well, I can describe them, but you’ll have to trust me when I say they are all as polite and beautiful as their parents.

After a short interrogation of whom was my favorite to interview, I was waved out, and I promised to send them the first draft.

“Thank you for the opportunity, Mr. Styles.”

“Thank you for indulging my children.”

“Nothing is more important than a child’s happiness.”

Mr. Styles nods, and as I drive off, waiting for the large black gate to open in my rearview is an image I’ll never forget because nothing beats a loving family.

*see below a photo of Mr. Styles gazing lovingly at Mrs. Styles, whose wedding and engagement ring was hidden from view. Mrs. Styles was dressed in a beautiful eggshell white dress with lace around the skirt. It was made especially for her, Harry Styles shared when speaking with his publicist.

*Corrections made by Styles are that he and his wife had changed their name, having hyphenated their last names. To protect his wife and children, that is left out of this interview.

#harry styles #harry styles fluff #harry styles imagine #harry styles one shot #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles x reader #dad!harry #harry styles story #harry styles writing #harry styles fic #harry styles fan fic #harry styles you #harry styles blurb #dadrry #harry styles fic rec

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mattycashyx · 1 year

Text

Antoine Griezmann - making him feel better

words: 1296

(Got this gif from Pinterest so credits to that person!)

A few month ago Antoine made a transfer from Atlético Madrid to fc Barcalona. You went with him, it was a hard decision for you because you lived your whole life in Madrid. Madrid was your city, your whole family lived their and you saw them weekly. But you loved Antoine too much and you couldn't live without him so you decided to go with him.

❀❀❀❀

You had met him in 2016 at a match. Your brother is an Atlético fan so you went to a match with him, it was his birthday gift from you. You two were sitting in the front, your brother had made a poster with 'Antoine Griezmann can i have you shirt'. Your brother was a fan of antoine since 2014 when he joined Atletico madrid. So after the game Antoine saw the poster of your brother and walked in your direction. He jumped over the fence and took his shirt of to give it to you brother, who took it gladly.

Damn, he has a good body you thought. "thank you so much!" said your brother with the biggist smile on his face "no problem bro" said Antoine while smiling back at your brother. "it means so much to him, I don't know how to thank you" you said while looking at Antoine with a small smile "I do know something" he said looking at you with a smirk "what?" you said being confused "go on a date with me" he said while making you blush. And ofcourse you said yes and now you've been together for 3 years.

❀❀❀❀

You finally began to feel more at home in Barcelona and slowly started to like it. You weren't the only one that was struggling. Antoine had a rough start at Barcelona, the fans from Atletico where scolding him out for traitor on social media and the Barcelona fans where saying that he wasn't good enough. He always got hate but never so much at ones and he took it hard on himself. He trained every day really hard to be better but it didn't pay off.

He didn’t tell you how he felt, every time you asked how it was going he said fine. He didn’t want to bother you with his problems because you were already struggling with your own problems. You didn’t noticed it at first but Antoine seemed less happy, he was smiling less, he didn’t made funny jokes and he didn’t did his little dances anymore. Ones you started to noticed his lack of enjoying life you started to get worried. Something was wrong but you didn’t knew what it was. So how where you supposed to help him.

That was until you were watching tv and there was some football show on it talking about Antoine. But they didn’t talk good about him they were making fun of him and saying hurtful things about how bad he was playing and that he wasn’t good enough for Barcelona. You immediately turned of the tv and when to look on Instagram what people where saying and they where saying the exact the same thing. You blamed yourself for not seeing this sooner. You where so coughed up with you own life, you where constantly thinking about work that you didn’t saw how miserable your boyfriend was.

So you decided that you two should have a little date night at home. You knew that if Antoine came home from training that he would be tired and that he just wants to stay at home with you. You quickly took a shower. After the shower you went to the kitchen to make his favorite dish, you hopped it would make him feel better. You set the table and put some candles on the table, it gave a romantic atmosphere. You got dressed in Antoine’s favorite dress of yours. It was a long beautiful red dress that suited you body perfectly. You did the last finishing touches so that it would be perfect.

When Antoine came home it was completely dark in the house and he was confused, he thought you where home. But that’s when he walked in the dinner room, the table was set romantically with candles and his favorite food. His beautiful girlfriend was sitting at the table looking beautiful and in the dress that he liked so much on her. He couldn’t get a better dinner than this. He couldn’t keep his eyes of you witch made you blush. “Are you gonna keep staring at me or you gonna eat dinner with me” you said smiling at him he didn’t say anything and sat down across from you.

“You look incredibly beautiful” he said looking at you lovely “thank you” you said happily. You two begin to eat dinner witch he really enjoyed. He had told you a hundred time how delicious the food was. He forgot everything for a while and was just having a fun time with his girlfriend whom he loved very much. You on the other hand was also having a great time it was a while ago since you and your boyfriend had a fun dinner date, you had missed this.

You had ended the night with laying on the couch. Antoine was laying with his head in your lap and you where going with your hand through his curls. He loved it when you were going with your hands through his hair it made him relax, he closed his eyes and almost fell asleep. “mi vida (my life) please tell me what's going on, I have noticed that your not as happy as you used to be" you whispered to him.

He looked at you with sad eyes "I don't want to bother you with my problems" he said getting up and not looking at you. "please mi vida I can't bear to see you like this, please tell me" you said looking at him with pleading eyes. He still didn't look at you so you took his head in your hands and made him look at you. A tear was spilling from his eyes and you whiped it away with your thumb.

"I'm just getting so much hate from every one, and they are right I play bad. I'm not good enough for fc Barcelona" he said believing what the people where saying about him. You were starting to cry it made you so said that he thought so low of himself. "don't ever say that again, it hurts me so bad that you feel that way about yourself. You're Antoine Griezmann, you're a really telanted footballplayer. There is a reason why fc Barcelona bought you, they see potential in you, they know that you're a verry good footballer. You're gonna show al the people that have something to say about you what you're capable of. Don't ever let people talk you down like that. I believe in you and I love you" you said to him at the time you finished more tears had spilled on his face.

"Thank you for always making me feel better. I love you so much I can't even express how much I love you" he said smiling at you trough the tairs. You gave him a hug and felt him relax under your touch. You gave him a kiss on the lips and smiled at him. He looked at you confused "I'm just really happy with you" you said to him "me too, I don't deserve you" he said

You still couldn't believe that this is your life. If you told me 4 years ago that I would be in Barcelona in love with a footballer I would've have laughed in your face. you thought.

❀❀❀❀

My first Antoine Griezmann imagine, what do you think? I'm so happy that he gets more recognition he deserves it!<3

#antoine griezmann #antoine griezmann imagine #antoine griezmann x reader #antoine griezmann one shot #antoine griezmann x y/n #fc barça #fc barcelona #footballer x reader #footballer imagine #antoine griezmann x you #football blurb #football fanfic #football world cup #mattycashyx

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jordie-gvf · 1 year

Text

danny blurb #2

do you guys remember the video monistat posted to her instagram about men not being able to give good head, this is yn and danny proving her wrong 💟

warnings : suggestive, basically a sex tape

word count : 503

You, Danny, and Mackenzi had all been friends in high school. You and Mackenzi had a falling out, but you and Danny stayed close.

When they broke up, you were over the moon. You had always liked Danny, Mackenzi knew you liked him, and dated him anyway.

Danny had invited you to tour the world with him, and you couldn't pass up the opportunity. When you were in Rome, Danny asked you to be his girlfriend, also couldn't pass up that opportunity.

A few days after he asked you out, Mackenzi posted a video to her instagram story about boys not being able to give good head. You had unfollowed Mackenzi, so you didn't see it.

PRESENT DAY

Danny had just gotten home from the studio, a few last touches on the album. You were sitting on the couch with the dogs, waiting for him to come home.

When he got home, he came into the living room and sat next to you. “Can I ask you something?” he said.

You nodded and turned all of your attention to him.

“Do I give good head?” he asked you.

You laughed and turned your head away. When you looked back at him, his stare was firm. “Oh, you're serious?” you questioned. He nodded and repeated the question.

“Do I give good head? Yes or no.” he said.

“Yes Danny, your head is more than satisfactory.” you told him.

“You're not lying, right?”

“No, I'm not lying. What happened.” you asked him.

“A few months ago, Kenzi posted an instagram story saying men aren't good at giving head.” he confessed to you.

“Can I prove her wrong?” you asked him. He cocked his head to the side and had a confused look on his face. “I have more than enough videos of you giving me head. Let me post one and tag her.” you told him.

“Do you really? Let me see.” he said.

You showed him one of the videos and he said, “I love those sweet moans. Post it, but turn the sound off, no one gets to hear those noises but me. And look, your D anklet looks perfect, shiny.”

You looked and saw your anklet shining, the flash was on.

You opened up Instagram and made a new story. You added the video and turned the sound off. You captioned the video, “for anyone wondering, he gives head just fine.” You tagged her and showed him, making sure it was exemplary.

“Do it. I wish I could see the look on her face when she sees this. Can you send me a different video? If she texts me, I'm going to send it to her.” he said. You posted the video and sent him a different video.

It had been about 3 hours since you posted the video and you had thousands of DM’s, all of them telling you that you were a G for posting that. You heard Danny call you from inside the bathroom,

“Baby! Guess who texted me.”

#danny wagner x reader #danny wagner fic #danny gvf #danny wagner fanfiction #danny wagner #danny wagner smut #greta van smut #greta van fleet fic #greta van fic #gvf fic

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lumineescente · 7 months

Text

seungjin drabble (again)

hii im doing a thing called slowtober (made by @/oeildesaturne on instagram, french speaking folks check it out!! although be aware of tw mental health and eds talks) and i'm posting on twitter a seungjin au per word

for the second word of this slowtober we got "black cat"

For this word it's a modern supernatural hyunjin cat shape shifter with his roommates werewolf felix and ghost jeongin greeting their new (human) roommate seungmin

AAAND it's not betaed.. plus it's just a little brainrot but i liked it so i'm sharing it here!! not to be too excited but it'd be great to write it entirely (one day)

AND if you enjoyed this challenge who is now over you can vote on this form for your favorite that I’ll be writing into a full fic on ao3! (“soumettre” is “submit” btw)

if you want to check all the drabbles you can go here

"Hyunjin!"

Hyunjin opens one eye. His ears moving at the sound of his name being called but not wanting to move any other body parts. He has spent the morning sleeping peacefully in a very sunny spot in their garden and with fall beginning he knows he will not be able to do so for a few months.

"There you are," Felix says as he stands tall, in a respectable distance from Hyunjin.

Felix never really liked cats. Due to his special nature, he never gets close Hyunjin when he is turn into a cat.

"What?" He asks barely moving.

"Did you forget? Our new roommate is coming at any second and you're cat sunbathing."

There is no real bite in his words, he is barely really mad. But they did promise to Minho, who is giving his room to this new person, to make sure nothing weird happens. Which is funny and ironic because Minho has always been the one to play with the weird limit. But the latter would deny it if they were to tell him.

"Right, I totally did not forget, " he finally decides to lie while standing up and stretching his cat body making sure to wake up each and every muscle.

"Good, because I already had to convince Jeongin to make sure he stays hidden but he said he was curious about the new guy but..."

"There you are, Felix!" A voice says at the door of the garden.

Both of them freeze. When Hyunjin looks up he sees the young man Minho had introduced to them a few weeks ago. What is different from that day is that now he is wearing some sweatpants and casual hoodie, his hair is slightly dishevelled and he looks terrible cute. Hyunjin knows his cat ears perks up in joy. How could he have forgotten today was the day he was joining their household ? He is so stupid. And Seungmin is so stupidly cute.

"Oh! I didn't know we had a cat," Seungmin says cutely.

Hyunjin has always been a very tactile person, and the same as a cat, but when Seungmin squats down next to him and gently extends a hand to pet him, he dodges it. The surprise look on Seungmin's eyes makes him swoon.

"He does not like being touch?" Seungmin asks Felix.

Hyunjin almost answers for Felix but thankfully he remembers cat don't speak before he does something that definitely falls into the weird part.

"No he really is affectionate, he must be nervous," Felix smirks and Hyunjin sends him a glare.

The reality is that none of his roommate ever pet him considering, Felix is a werewolf and would rather die than touch a cat, Minho is too jealous of Hyunjin shapeshifting ability, and Jeongin.. well Jeongin could hardly touch anything. Plus maybe it was a bit weird. Well he had never overthink it. But now Seungmin, the very cute new roommate, the very new human cute roommate, wants to scratch his head without knowing it was actually a human being.

"So what's his name?"

Felix seems to think very hardly on it and Hyunjin knows he will come up with something. He meows adamantly. He barely meows because he is used to his roommates knowing he is a human first and always talks normally even as a cat. It sounds weird.

"Its not our cat," Felix ends up saying instead and Hyunjin ears move pleasantly, "he just comes here sometimes..."

"Oh okay."

Seungmin tries again to reach for Hyunjin's head and this time he can not do anything else but let him pet him. It does feel good. He ends up purring a bit and keeps his eyes half closed to not look at Felix's mocking face. It is enjoyable. He could definitely go for that again.

"Hyunjin's not home?" Seungmin asks.

Is Hyunjin insane to hear a bit of disappointment in his voice?

"I dont know where he went, he should come back any time soon."

Yeah! He would come back quicker if Felix could bring Seungmin inside and let him carefully go back to his room to turn into a human again. Instead of letting him pur happily while Seungmin scratches behind his neck. Fucking cat instinct. He sure will remember that whenever Felix needs help.

"Okay well I put most of my stuff in the kitchen, is it okay if you help me get them upstairs?"

"Sure, I just know Hyunjin will magically appear when he hears you need help."

Seungmin stops the petting and Hyunjin opens his eyes quickly enough to see a blush on his face. He wants to bites Felix leg.

"Really.." Seungmin laughs awkwardly, "then maybe you should go..."

He gets up and starts walking back to the inside.

"I hate you," Hyunjin whispers very quietly to Felix.

Like the traitor he is, Felix just winks and runs to follow Seungmin. Hyunjin wants to disappear.

#seungjin #drabble #stray kids drabbles #kim seungmin #hwang hyunjin #kpop drabbles #slowtober #supernatural au #luminee:slowtober challenge

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didhewinkback · 10 months

Note

Reread something old (again oops) and can't find the birthday boy blurb, the link gets me out of the app and if I search directly on your blog it doesn't appear. Anyway, was YN the first call Harry made to announce the big 1D break? How did she get along with the boys when she was on tour during the summers? Would she hang out with Gemma too when both of them were in London getting closer over their shared love of Harry/missing him?

omg thank u for rereading !! the link is still working for me ? so idk whats happening with that. i'll tag it as birthday boy also so hopefully it appears then ! ill answer your questions after the jump to not clog the dash however one thing i need to say here and now is that mc and gemma have been family friends since they were kids and their friendship and lives do not revolve around harry pls enjoy my LONG answers to ur questions below:

1d break: they had been having a lot of late night phone calls across the pond about the state of the band since zayn left / talked about it in person whenever he was home and she was on break from uni, so she knew he was making moves and things were on the horizon and he was feeling so overworked, tired and creatively stuck, in need of something new. when it was officially officially announced, he gave his family the heads up first and then let her know with a "looks like we're both graduating this year" text and she went to their london show and obvi she was at the last show in that act my age conga

the boys: she wouldn't be at the tours for more than 2 weeks at most during the summer, and usually was with gemma or johnny hanging out with them or members of the crew. she got along with all of them quite well, they were very familiar with her and comfortable around her but got along best with niall, he'd join them on some late night adventures sometimes, always up for a laugh. there was one year she flew over by herself & harry was poorly one night but he refused to let her stay in with him, so she and niall hit up the bars together even though neither of them were legally allowed to drink in the us yet, sending selfies to harry with every new drink they had much to his annoyance. they don't really keep in touch anymore apart from the occasional instagram story reply, but he did make a point to message her after he and harry hung out 2 years ago saying he was buzzing that they were finally together and he hopes he can see her soon

gemma: she and gemma have been family friends since they were neighbors when she was 6, though she was always closer to harry obviously, she and gemma grew closer as they got older and the gap between their ages felt much less significant than it had at 11 and 15. they both went to uni in london and would meet up every few months to catch up. their lives and friendship don't revolve around harry though he comes up in conversation, but they're never hanging out because he's not there and they've got nothing better to do. she was quite nervous to see gemma for their first solo hang since the wedding, harry really wanted to come with but she knew she had to do this bit on her own. it was several months after the wedding was called off, just after christmas time when they told their families they were together and she was bloody nervous about it, prepared to get reamed only for gemma to hug her the second she saw her saying "i always, always wanted it to be you" before doing the classic styles smirk, "i just figured you two stubborn bozos would never get your shit together." and now gemma is very much in the loop with the engagement, she's harrys right hand woman, but she's the best secret keeper in the family and you haven't a clue

#sot #ik its a fanfic but i get very defensive about the women in it !!!#they are independent ladies who dont need a man !!!!#they have careers !#friendships !#hobbies !#hes just ken!#obviously hes not but u get my point

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ughsimpp · 2 years

Note

can i request a ateez reaction of their s/o getting their n*pples pierced?? love your work and happy new year!

thank you!!! AND FINALLY I POST SOMETHING!!! ughhh sorry for the LONGGGG wait

masterlist

hongjoong

you were just chilling in the studio with him like always. you did your own thing on the couch as hongjoong worked on his music, but lately he's been overworking himself. you tell him that he should take a break and relax but there were deadlines. hongjoong ran his hand through his hair as he turned to look at you, releasing a big sigh.

"baby can you come here please??"

he pouts as you smiled and walked over to him. you sat on his lap and looked at him. he pulled you in for a hug as he felt relived that you were there. your scent and your touch made him relaxed more.

his hands runs down your back as he noticed you weren't wearing a bra. usually he can tell whenever you had one on but this time he felt nothing as he rubbed your back. he also felt something poking his chest. he pulled back and looked down your shirt, making sure he wasn't wrong but he saw the metal bars sticking out through your shirt.

"baby...did you?"

you knew what he was looking and asking about. you gave him a cheeky smile. your lifted up your shirt as he saw your nipples were pierced. his eyes widen at the sight, flustered. you chuckled at his reaction.

"when did you get them done?"

"mhm about a few months ago when you went on that trip with the guys."

"you hid them for 3 months???"

"I mean yea.. you were always busy so I never got to show you...are you mad?"

"what? no. I'm actually just surprised, I mean they look good...really good."

he was about to touch them but you slapped his hand away,

"no touching. they still hurt, hence why I don’t have a bra on..."

his eyes were glued to your chest as you tried to talk to him

"so you're saying that you are gonna be braless for the next few month??"

“yes? but only till they heal."

he smirked and leaned in closer to your chest

"I was thinking you shouldn't wear bras regardless.”

he said as he left a cheeky smirk

seonghwa

hwa was busy with work, leaving you home alone. bored out of your mind. you would find random things to do around the apartment you both shared but nothing seemed fun. as you scroll through instagram, some of the ig-models you saw had their nipples pierced and you wondered if you would look good with them.

it was only 3pm so you boldly decided to go to a shop and get it done. you never thought you would go through with the plan and actually do it but after signing papers and paying for it, you came home with your nipples freshly pierced. you couldn’t wear a bra if you wanted to. your nipples became more sensitive than before.

it was past 11pm as you heard the door open. seonghwa was finally home. he walked through the door as his shirt was drenched in sweat and his hair was a mess.

"hi baby"

"hi babe, how was practice today?"

"tiring as always but I'll be fine. just happy to come home and see my baby..."

he came in and kisses you on your forehead and gave you a hug. he pulled away from the hug since he needed to go take a shower. seonghwa threw his dirty clothes in the basket and headed in the shower.

you sat on the bed and waited till he came out. you debated if you should show him now or later. he came out of the bathroom with a towel wrapped low around his waist. water droplets dripped down his hair. he smiled at you and head towards the closet, grabbing clean clothes.

"seonghwa?..."

"yes baby?"

"so i did something today...something bold."

"oh really? what is it?"

he waited for you to answer but you stayed quiet. he turned around as he saw you lift up your shirt, showing him your chest. his eyes drew down to your chest as he looked away and smirked

"you like them?"

"well this is a surprise I was not expecting."

his face slightly flushed as he looked at you. his smirk grew wider as he walked closer. you stood up as he wrapped his hands around your waist, throwing his head back as he looked back down at your chest.

"this is gonna be fun for you and me baby."

yunho

yunho was coming over for the weekend since he couldn't last week for late movie night, takeout, games and of course CUDDLES.

you were excited since you get to see him since it has been awhile. you got everything ready but one thing you were worried about was that you didn't tell him that you got your nipples pierced.

seconds later a knock on the door made you snap out of your thought. you opened the door and saw yunho, smiling brightly at you.

"hi beautiful!! i missed you!!"

"hi baby."

he smiled as he picked you up and headed inside. giving you kisses and a tight hug. he set down the bags of snacks on the counter as he head towards the couch. you were cuddled underneath a blanket with him as your legs were over his. you both decided to watch harry potter as he handed you your favorite snacks. in the middle of the movie, you suddenly asked him a question.

"baby...off topic but what if i had my nipples pierced?"

yunho choked on the snack he was eating, getting caught off guard to your question.

"ehem...wait what? get-getting your nipples pierced?"

"just wondering because..."

you removed the blanket as he looked at you. you sat up and grabbed the bottom of your shirt. his eyes widen at you and your chest. his face was turning red as he covered his face.

"babe...you..when?"

"i got it done a few months ago...are you mad?"

he gave out a chuckle. he

"actually no... i like them, it looks really good.”

yunho couldn’t stop looking down at your chest. you got embarrassed and covered them with your hands

“do-don’t look at them for too long yu...”

he giggled out and pulled you in for a hug. definitely giving you that big cheeky smile.

yeosang

you and yeosang were both just sitting in the couch watching a movie. yeosang’s focus was on the movie but you on the other hand was struggling. pain for your swollen nipples hurts as your shirt was brushing against them. you couldn’t even watch the movie comfortably.

he knew you got them done but wouldn’t look whenever you offer him to look. you looked over to yeosang but he wasn’t paying attention. you sat up from the couch and faced him.

“yeosang baby...”

“mhm?”

he replied but still wasn’t looking at you. sitting back down you lifted up your shirt hoping that he would look your way.

“baby can you please help me? they hurt...”

he didn’t even move.

“I told you that they are gonna hurt if you get them done...”

“I know but...can you just take a look?”

“you know i can’t do that...”

“why not?”

“because...I don’t think I would be able to control myself if I do...”

yeosang’s face started to get red as he said that, he looked away from the tv. you knew he wouldn’t look you at regardless if you had your shirt on or not.

you got fed up and stood in front of him. his eyes immediately looked down as he saw you in front of him. you lifted up his head to make him look at you. your exposed chest was in his view.

“yeo....”

he sat back and covered his face, laughing. his face as blushed to what you just did.

“baby why would you show me...I told you once already that I wont be able to control myself if I looked.”

yeosang said he grabbed in if the couch pillows and put it over his lap. he smirked as he looked at you, down to your chest.

san

you and san were both having a tickle fight trying to see who would tap out first. the fight started because of him, he came into the room to bother you because you didn't give him any attention.

you whelped out when he wrapped his arms around your waist, causing you both to fall backwards. san high laughs and your screams were filling the room.

you suddenly gasped when he brushed against your chest. you didn't have on a bra so he felt something odd. he stopped tickling you and looked at you. he had a confused look on his face. you smiled and knew what he was curious about.

you lifted up your shirt as showed him your chest. his eyes widen as he saw your chest.

"y/n!!"

he freaked out and pulled your shirt back down. you laughed at his reaction as he hid his face. he fell back onto the bed, embarrassed. you pulled his arms away from his face and looked at him.

"why are you shy? you've seen my boobs before."

"yea but it looks different...when did...you get them done?"

"I got them done a long time ago, I just took out the piercings but I decided to put them back in before they close up...is that okay?"

he sat up and faced you, pulling your shirt back up. it took him a second to finally say something

"I mean... shall we test out if I really like it?"

he pulled you in closer, setting you down on his lap. knowing what he meant by it, you took off your shirt and wrapped your arms around his neck giving him a cheeky smile.

he teased your nipple as a soft moan left your mouth, you quickly covered your mouth but then saw san slowly smirk at your reaction

"oh yea this is more than okay for me."

mingi

you were gone for the whole day out with friends, leaving mingi alone at home. when you came home he was sitting on the couch waiting for you.

you saw him pouting, eating a tub of ice cream and watching a cartoon. you smiled and walked over to him.

"did you miss me?"

he looked at you and nodded,

"did you not go out with yunho and yeosang?"

"no because I thought we were gonna spend the whole day together but when I woke up this morning, you weren't here. then when you sent me that text that you were out with your friends, I just stayed home..."

"aw im sorry..."

he continued pouting as you laughed at how cute he was, you gave him a kiss on the lips hoping that he would forgive you and it worked. his face lit up and he was happy again.

"I have a surprise for you, wait here okay?"

he was excited that he set down the tub of ice-cream on the table. you walked to the bedroom you both shared and came back. mingi gestured his hands out for his gift but when you lifted up your shirt, his hands immediately covered his face. you showed him that you got your nipples pierced

"baby!!! why-when?...."

"I got them done today when I was out..do you not like them?"

"n-no I like them but..."

"but?"

"why didn't you asked me to go with you?!?!"

you were shocked that he wanted to go with you

"you couldn't have gone with me because my all friends were getting theirs done too. it would have be awkward for you to watch us all get our nipples pierced?"

"well yea but still...wait was it a guy or girl who did them?!"

"a guy?..."

"A GUY?!!!!"

you laughed at how he reacted,

"you let another guy touch your chest?!"

he started pouting again. you grabbed his face and kissed him once more.

"don't worry. he was professional about it, and besides you are the only one who gets to play with them."

his eyes lit up at you, you gave him a wink and smiled. he stood up and was about to touch them but you pushed his hand away.

"wait! not right now. they're still sore so you're gonna have to wait a few months."

you walked away towards the bedroom, leaving a pouting mingi standing in the living room. he came running after you, whining.

"baby please?!?!? I promise I just wanted a better look!!"

wooyoung

its was just a regular night with him after a long day of work. you were cuddling with wooyoung on the couch watching tv. you were in his arms eating snacks as you fed some to him too.

you felt his hands rubbing up and down your sides. it was normal for him to do that. he's always been handsy but you didn't mind it.

"did you want anything from the kitchen? I'm gonna go get a refill."

"no i'm okay, thank you though baby."

you got off the couch and headed to the kitchen to refill the bowl of chips. you grabbed something to drink because you knew later he would have wanted it later. you came back and sat in your regular spot.

he placed his hands on your sides again but this time under your shirt. his hands were cold as his hand glides on your skin as you felt shivers go down your spine. his hands started to go up more and reaching near your chest.

"woo...what are you-wait!"

you forgot that he didn't know about your piercings. you whined at his touch, looking up at him, his eyes slightly widen from what he was feeling but soon he slowly smirked at your reaction from his touch.

"baby...lift up your shirt, I wanna see them."

you got off of him and stood in front of him, lifting up your shirt. as soon as your lifted up your shirt, his smirk got bigger.

"do they look okay?"

he pushed his hair back and laid back, adjusting his position on the couch. he signaled you to come sit on his lap. you sat in front of him as he took off your shirt.

"its more than okay for me..."

he groped your boobs and lightly squeezed them, brushing his thumb across your nipples causing you to moan out. he bit down his bottom lip and kissed the middle part of your chest.

"lets have some fun shall we?"

jongho

you and jongho only been dating for a couple of month. he was only a year older than you so it was nice to date someone around your age. the guys you dated before were a lot older and honestly just wanted you for your body, but you were smart and didn't sleep with them because you knew you would have been played with if you let an asshole take your v-card.

jongho on the other hand was a total sweetheart. he would make you feel like nothing bad would happen to you and you appreciated him a lot...but there was something else you needed from him.

you needed his touch. you needed to feels his strong hands on your body as he whispers dirty things in your ears. just thinking about him doing all that to you, made you go crazy. you and jongho haven't gone pass 1st base yet which is understand able. he wants to take his time and don't wanna rush things, but you were getting impatient.

you were a virgin who constantly got horny whenever you see him. vibrators and your fingers couldn't satisfied you anymore. you needed something bigger, you needed him.

it was just a normal day as jongho came over. he was sitting in the living room watching tv as you were taking a shower. you recently came back from a run and needed to freshen up. warm water hit your body as you washed your hair.

getting out of the shower with the towel wrapped around your body, you peaked out to the living room and saw jongho just sitting there, waiting for you to come back. from your view, he looked really good. he wasn't doing must but just sitting there and focused on the tv with that serious face, it made you weak for him.

you slipped on some lounge wear and walked out to the living room. he saw you walking towards him and gave you a sweet smile.

"hi baby, you done showering? I put on our favorite show, come sit down."

you nodded and stood in the same spot for a few seconds. you finally got the courage and decided to sit on his lap. his eyes widen as you sat on top of him. he didn't mind you sitting on top of him like but what shocked him more was that you weren't wearing a bra, so he saw your pierced nipples poking out your shirt.

"b-baby what are you-..."

you wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him in for a kiss. you wanted him to bad. you slowly grind yourself on his crotch, having him softly moan out, throwing his head back.

you took off your shirt as he saw your exposed chest. he saw the pretty piercings that were on your chest. he slowly touched one of your breast and teased your nipple. a soft moan escaped your mouth as he touched and teased you. he looked up as you and smirked.

"you like them?"

he nodded to your question. jongho didn't know you got them done but now since he knows, he should have done this before from the start.

"so pretty..."

you gasped as he gave your ass a light squeezed. he loved how needy and sensitive you became when he started playing with you.

"please jongho...i really need you."

"fuck...I should have done this from the start."

#ateez #atiny #hongjoong #san #wooyoung #yunho #seonghwa #jongho #mingi #yeosang #ateez reaction #ateez x y/n #ateez masterlist #ughsimpp

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oro-e-diamanti · 3 years

Text

The one where Ethan is pretending

Description | When you bump into Ethan in Paris, you fail to mention that you know exactly who he is. You’re not sure how long you’ll be able to keep it up when he asks you out for a drink.

Content | Fluff

Pairing | Ethan x gn!Reader (with the exception of one female pet name)

Word Count | 2071

Taglist | @ginny-lily @ethaneskin @tabi-toast @mywritingonlyfans

***

There was no way you were staying in the same place that Måneskin had just arrived at. There was no way, you kept telling yourself. Paris was a massive city, the number of available hotels in the hundreds, maybe thousands if you had to guess. And yet, somehow, you had managed to pick the one place one of your new favourite obsessions would spend their time. You knew it didn't mean much, the hotel had more than a couple of rooms and with your luck, you wouldn't even catch a glimpse of them. But as you kept scrolling through Instagram, seeing pictures of people meeting the four Italians in front of the place you had checked into mere days ago, you couldn't fight a little bubble of excitement forming in your chest.

Well, you told yourself you wouldn't get your hopes up. And you definitely wouldn't hang around in front of the hotel or in the lobby. You had booked your solo trip to Paris months ago, after dreaming about visiting the city for most of your life, and you would be damned if you wouldn't stick to your itinerary and enjoy your holiday. However - you had gotten up at what felt like dawn to go queue up for the Louvre and spent the last couple of hours there, so you decided that a nap was the way to go if you wanted to continue exploring the city in the evening. Fortunately, the walk back to the hotel wasn't long.

You had made it to the last corner before entering the street you were aiming for, when two giggling girls ran past you, unceremoniously bumping your shoulder and sending you tumbling. You were fully expecting to hit the ground, but instead, a pair of strong arms caught you and brought you back to your feet. A pair of strong arms belonging to a strong chest that you came face-to-face with, belonging to a gorgeous face, belonging to Ethan Torchio.

"Tu vas bien?" His broad French accent confused you, momentarily forgetting about the little detail that you were, in fact, in France, as you stared at the drummer in front of you, who was still protectively holding onto your upper arms.

"Huh?" Was the immensely intelligent answer that thus left your mouth.

"Oh, not French?"

"No, definitely not French." You finally said, taking a step back from him to avoid the increasing awkwardness you were feeling about being touched by him, while the two girls who had previously knocked you down were now lingering around the two of you suspiciously, not coming close enough to be rude, but obviously desperate to get their own piece of Ethan. "No, just a tourist."

"Me too," Ethan smiled. "A tourist, I mean. Well, kind of. I'm here with my band so it's not like we have time to do a lot of sightseeing."

He briefly turned around to look at the two girls who still seemed frustrated at you hogging his time and gave a small wave before turning back to you. It was the movement that made you realise he had the most gorgeous red rose tucked into the waistband of his trousers. Well, it used to be the most gorgeous rose - after your little crash, it had bent in the middle, the top hanging only by a thread, in the most miserable fashion.

"Oh, no I am so sorry!" You gasped, carefully grasping the delicate petals that were on the verge of breaking off. "I must have crashed into it when you caught me."

"Don't worry about it," Ethan said, softly, and pulled the stem from his waistband. The flower looked even more tragic now, in all its crushed glory. "A fan gave it to me a few minutes ago."

"Huh?" You surely proved yourself articulate in this conversation. You mentally hit yourself, angry at yourself for being so easily flustered.

"There are a few fans waiting in front of our hotel, because we're in a ... band ... and things."

Apparently, your awkwardness was contagious. Also, it was becoming increasingly obvious that Ethan thought that you had no idea who he was.

"Let me get you a new one," you suggested. "There's a flower shop just two doors down from the hotel - I mean, I am staying there, too, so I know."

He smiled at you with a serenity and calmness that had your heart soaring. You decided you'd be willing to buy him a million roses if only he kept smiling at you like that for a little longer.

"Well, I've got to go now, but it would be rude to refuse your offer. Meet you in the bar of the hotel at 8 tonight?"

No way this was happening. You almost gasped, but at the last moment managed to keep your cool, outwardly. On the inside, you were a mess. Bumping into the drummer of one of your favourite bands was a wonderful chance meeting as it was - but this almost sounded like a date. Now, of course, Ethan wouldn't be asking you out on a date. That would be ridiculous. But there was also no way you would miss out on a chance to meet him again. Preferably without those two giggling girls that were still standing behind him, watching every move of your interaction but luckily too far away to hear what you were saying.

"It's a d- uh, deal," you quickly recovered before almost spitting out the word date instead. Ethan chuckled.

"Right, see you later, then, for our... deal."

He had seen right through you anyway, you thought. But he was still laughing, so it wasn't all that bad - right?

With another quick touch to your upper arm, Ethan walked past you, turning around just one last time.

"My name is Ethan, by the way. You can tell me yours tonight."

Oh, you would.

***

The rest of the day was... well, restless. You couldn't nap because your mind was a whirlwind and your stomach was twisting with excitement. So instead, you had made sure to get the prettiest red rose you could find in the flower shop down the street - while slightly wincing at the price that a shop in the center of the city of love demanded - and put it in a glass the hotel receptionist had been nice to give to you. Then you had decided that there was no way you would manage to relax before 8, so you allowed yourself a few hours simply wandering through the city, no real destination, no itinerary for once, just a nice long stroll with nothing but your thoughts.

At five past eight - being slightly late was still cool, right? - you did a quick check-up in the mirror, realised you were not going to get any happier with your appearance whatever you tried to do at this point, grabbed the rose from its makeshift vase, and left your room.

It only took you a second to see him when you entered the little bar on the ground floor of the hotel. Even in the dim light, the white blouse that he had already been wearing when you met for the first time stood out like a sore thumb. Long dark hair fell over his back in a silky fashion. You had never wanted to touch anyone's hair more.

You took one more deep breath and then walked over to Ethan, smile on your face and rose in your hand.

"A rose for the handsome gentleman?"

Ethan almost jumped, apparently not having heard you coming, but quickly a smirk spread over his face while he stood up.

"I'll take the rose and your name, then."

"It's Y/n."

Ethan greeted you with a soft kiss to your cheek, before taking the rose, pulling your chair back, and inviting you to sit. It was almost ridiculously romantic and if it had been anyone else it would have seemed over-the-top and off-putting, but with Ethan it seemed sincere and fitting.

"Glass of wine, Y/n?" He asked as he casually waved the waiter over to your table.

"Just one. I want to get up early tomorrow for some more sightseeing."

***

It didn't end up being just one glass. It ended up another one and then a bottle shared. But it also ended up with three hours of talking, laughing, teasing, and slowly moving your chairs closer together until you were basically sitting on the same side of the table. You had asked him about his band - still trying to cover up that you knew exactly who they were out of pure fear that he'd reject you for being a fan - and he has asked about your job, your life, your family. In fact, you only left the bar when the waiter had started throwing you annoyed looks while demonstratively cleaning the tables around you.

"I'll bring you to your room," Ethan chuckled lightly as you waited for the elevator. His hand was on the small of your back and it was spreading tingles all through your body. You were standing close enough that you could smell his perfume, a light yet musky scent that encapsulated everything about him.

As soon as the elevator doors opened, he lightly pushed you inside and you found yourself not minding him leading you like this. You pressed the button for your floor, leaning against the wall as you studied the man in front of you. He was a thing of beauty, no question about it, and when he smiled down at you the way he was right then and there, he made you feel like one, too.

"I had a lovely evening, Y/n. Is there any chance I could get your number?"

What a question, you thought to yourself. You'd be mad to refuse him!

You dug your phone out of your cluttered bag. You had switched numbers just a few weeks ago and had not yet learned the new digits by heart. Quickly, you switched it on - and your heart sank. Oh crap. You had completely forgotten about this.

The lockscreen of your phone was a picture of Måneskin.

As you looked up, you realized Ethan had seen. And, contrarily to the reaction that you were anticipating, he was wearing a massive grin.

"Ethan, I am so sorry, I should have told you immediately when we met but I kind of just stumbled into this and you were explaining you were in a band and I didn't know how to say-"

"Dolcezza, calm down. I've known all along."

"Wait - what?"

He didn't explain. Instead, he pointed to your bag - your tote bag - your Måneskin tote bag.

You truly felt like the least intelligent life form on earth.

"I've been carrying that around all day, haven't I?"

While your embarrassment grew, face heating up, Ethan grabbed your shoulders and pulled you into his body. His arms tightly wrapped around your body and you could feel his giggles in his chest, as your head was pressed against it. You didn't hesitate in reciprocating, clinging onto his torso, slowly swinging from side to side. Both of you caught in a tipsy stupor.

You only stopped when the elevator arrived at your floor, both of you stumbling out and dragging each other to your door while clinging on. When you reached your room, you let your back lean against it, pulling Ethan along so you were standing face to face, smiling at each other shily and yet never breaking eye contact.

"Why didn't you say anything?" You finally asked. He stroked your cheek, leaving goosebumps. He had now gotten so close that you could feel his breath on your, drowning in each other.

"I liked pretending."

And then he kissed you. Boldly, unafraid and passionate. You melted like putty under him, letting him take control while letting yourself fall, as his lips moved against yours.

You only pulled away enough to get another glance at him, before once again searching your bag, now one-handed, so you never quite had to let go of him. A small triumphant sound escaped you as you located the key card. Holding it up next to your face, you shot the man in front of you another smirk.

"Why don't we keep pretending? At least for tonight."

It wasn't an offer he was going to refuse.

#ethan torchio #maneskin #ethan torchio imagine #ethan torchio fiction #ethan tochio x you #ethan torchio x reader #maneskin imagine #maneskin fiction #fluff #my writings

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mcmansionhell · 3 years

Text

Underground, Part 1

[Author’s Note: A year ago, when waiting for the DC Metro, I came up with an idea for a short story involving two realtors and the infamous Las Vegas Underground House, typed up an outline, and shoved it away in my documents where it sat neglected until this month. The house recently resurfaced on Twitter, and combined with almost a year of quarantine, the story quickly materialized. Though I rarely write fiction, I decided I’d give it a shot as a kind of novelty McMansion Hell post. I’ve peppered the story with photos from the house to break up the walls of text. Hopefully you find it entertaining. I look forward to returning next month with the second installment of this as well as our regularly scheduled McMansion content. Happy New Year!

Warning: there’s lots of swearing in this.]

Underground

Back in 1997, Mathieu Rino, the son of two Finnish mechanical engineers who may or may not have worked intimately with the US State Department, changed his name to Jay Renault in order to sell more houses. It worked wonders.

He gets out of the car, shuts the door harder than he should. Renault wrinkles his nose. It’s a miserable Las Vegas afternoon - a sizzling, dry heat pools in ripples above the asphalt. The desert is a place that is full of interesting and diverse forms of life, but Jay’s the kind of American who sees it all as empty square-footage. He frowns at the dirt dusting up his alligator-skin loafers but then remembers that every lot, after all, has potential. Renault wipes the sweat from his leathery face, slicks back his stringy blond hair and adjusts the aviators on the bridge of his nose. The Breitling diving watch crowding his wrist looks especially big in the afternoon glare. He glances at it.

“Shit,” he says. The door on the other side of the car closes, as though in response.

If Jay Renault is the consummate rich, out-of-touch Gen-Xer trying to sell houses to other rich, out-of-touch Gen-Xers, then Robert Little is his millennial counterpart. Both are very good at their jobs. Robert adjusts his tie in the reflection of the Porsche window, purses his lips. He’s Vegas-showman attractive, with dark hair, a decent tan, and a too-bright smile - the kind of attractive that ruins marriages but makes for an excellent divorcee. Mildly sleazy.

“Help me with these platters, will you?” Renault gestures, popping the trunk. Robert does not want to sweat too much before an open house, but he obliges anyway. They’re both wearing suits. The heat is unbearable. A spread of charcuterie in one hand, Jay double-checks his pockets for the house keys, presses the button that locks his car.

Both men sigh, and their eyes slowly trail up to the little stucco house sitting smack dab in the center of an enormous lot, a sea of gravel punctuated by a few sickly palms. The house has the distinct appearance of being made of cardboard, ticky-tacky, a show prop. Burnt orange awnings don its narrow windows, which somehow makes it look even more fake.

“Here we go again,” Jay mutters, fishing the keys out of his pocket. He jiggles them until the splintered plywood door opens with a croak, revealing a dark and drab interior – dusty, even though the cleaners were here yesterday. Robert kicks the door shut with his foot behind him.

“Christ,” he swears, eyes trailing over the terrible ecru sponge paint adorning the walls. “This shit is so bleak.”

The surface-level house is mostly empty. There’s nothing for them to see or attend to there, and so the men step through a narrow hallway at the end of which is an elevator. They could take the stairs, but don’t want to risk it with the platters. After all, they were quite expensive. Renault elbows the button and the doors part.

“Let’s just get this over with,” he says as they step inside. The fluorescent lights above them buzz something awful. A cheery metal sign welcomes them to “Tex’s Hideaway.” Beneath it is an eldritch image of a cave, foreboding. Robert’s stomach’s in knots. Ever since the company assigned him to this property, he’s been terrified of it. He tells himself that the house is, in fact, creepy, that it is completely normal for him to be ill at ease. The elevator’s ding is harsh and mechanical. They step out. Jay flips a switch and the basement is flooded with eerie light.

It’s famous, this house - The Las Vegas Underground House. The two realtors refer to it simply as “the bunker.” Built by an eccentric millionaire at the height of Cold War hysteria, it’s six-thousand square feet of paranoid, aspirational fantasy. The first thing anyone notices is the carpet – too-green, meant to resemble grass, sprawling out lawn-like, bookmarked by fake trees, each a front for a steel beam. Nothing can grow here. It imitates life, unable to sustain it. The leaves of the ficuses seem particularly plastic.

Bistro sets scatter the ‘yard’ (if one can call it that), and there’s plenty of outdoor activities – a parquet dance floor complete with pole and disco ball, a putt putt course, an outdoor grill made to look like it’s nestled in a rock, but in reality better resembles a baked potato. The pool and hot tub, both sculpted in concrete and fiberglass mimicking a natural rock formation, are less Playboy grotto and more Fred Flintstone. It’s a very seventies idea of fun.

Then, of course, there’s the house. That fucking house.

A house built underground in 1978 was always meant to be a mansard – the mansard roof was a historical inevitability. The only other option was International Style modernism, but the millionaire and his wife were red-blooded anti-Communists. Hence, the mansard. Robert thinks the house looks like a fast-food restaurant. Jay thinks it looks like a lawn and tennis club he once attended as a child where he took badminton lessons from a swarthy Czech man named Jan. It’s drab and squat, made more open by big floor-to-ceiling windows nestled under fresh-looking cedar shingles. There’s no weather down here to shrivel them up.

“Shall we?” Jay drawls. The two make their way into the kitchen and set the platters down on the white tile countertop. Robert leans up against the island, careful of the oversized hood looming over the electric stovetop. He eyes the white cabinets, accented with Barbie pink trim. The matching linoleum floor squeaks under his Italian loafers.

“I don’t understand why we bother doing this,” Robert complains. “Nobody’s seriously going to buy this shit, and the company’s out a hundred bucks for party platters.”

“It’s the same every time,” Renault agrees. “The only people who show up are Instagram kids and the crazies - you know, the same kind of freaks who’d pay money to see Chernobyl.”

“Dark tourism, they call it.”

Jay checks his watch again. Being in here makes him nervous.

“Still an hour until open house,” he mutters. “I wish we could get drunk.”

Robert exhales deeply. He also wishes he could get drunk, but still, a job’s a job.

“I guess we should check to see if everything’s good to go.”

The men head into the living room. The beamed, slanted ceiling gives it a mid-century vibe, but the staging muddles the aura. Jay remembers making the call to the staging company. “Give us your spares,” he told them, “Whatever it is you’re not gonna miss. Nobody’ll ever buy this house anyway.”

The result is eclectic – a mix of office furniture, neo-Tuscan McMansion garb, and stuffy waiting-room lamps, all scattered atop popcorn-butter shag carpeting. Hideous, Robert thinks. Then there’s the ‘entertaining’ room, which is a particular pain in the ass to them, because the carpet was so disgusting, they had to replace it with that fake wood floor just to be able to stand being in there for more than five minutes. There’s a heady stone fireplace on one wall, the kind they don’t make anymore, a hearth. Next to it, equally hedonistic, a full bar. Through some doors, a red-painted room with a pool table and paintings of girls in fedoras on the wall. It’s all so cheap, really. Jay pulls out a folded piece of paper out of his jacket pocket along with a pen. He ticks some boxes and moves on.

The dining room’s the worst to Robert. Somehow the ugly floral pattern on the curtains stretches up in bloomer-like into a frilly cornice, carried through to the wallpaper and the ceiling, inescapable, suffocating. It smells like mothballs and old fabric. The whole house smells like that.

The master bedroom’s the most normal – if anything in this house could be called normal. Mismatched art and staging furniture crowd blank walls. When someone comes into a house, Jay told Robert all those years ago, they should be able to picture themselves living in it. That’s the goal of staging.

There’s two more bedrooms. The men go through them quickly. The first isn’t so bad – claustrophobic, but acceptable – but the saccharine pink tuille wallpaper of the second gives Renault a sympathetic toothache. The pair return to the kitchen to wait.

Both men are itching to check their phones, but there’s no point – there’s no signal in here, none whatsoever. Renault, cynical to the core, thinks about marketing the house to the anti-5G people. It’s unsettlingly quiet. The two men have no choice but to entertain themselves the old-fashioned way, through small talk.

“It’s really fucked up, when you think about it,” Renault muses.

“What is?”

“The house, Bob.”

Robert hates being called Bob. He’s told Jay that hundreds of times, and yet…

“Yeah,” Robert mutters, annoyed.

“No, really. Like, imagine. You’re rich, you founded a major multinational company marketing hairbrushes to stay-at-home moms, and what do you decide to do with your money? Move to Vegas and build a fucking bunker. Like, imagine thinking the end of the world is just around the corner, forcing your poor wife to live there for ten, fifteen years, and then dying, a paranoid old man.” Renault finds the whole thing rather poetic.

“The Russkies really got to poor ol’ Henderson, didn’t they?” Robert snickers.

“The wife’s more tragic if you ask me,” Renault drawls. “The second that batshit old coot died, she called a guy to build a front house on top of this one, since she already owned the lot. Poor woman probably hadn’t seen sunlight in God knows how long.”

“Surely they had to get groceries.”

Jay frowns. Robert has no sense of drama, he thinks. Bad trait for a realtor.

“Still,” he murmurs. “It’s sad.”

“I would have gotten a divorce, if I were her,” the younger man says, as though it were obvious. It’s Jay’s turn to laugh.

“I’ve had three of those, and trust me, it’s not as easy as you think.”

“You’re seeing some new girl now, aren’t you?” Robert doesn’t really care, he just knows Jay likes to talk about himself, and talking fills the time.

“Yeah. Casino girl. Twenty-six.”

“And how old are you again?”

“None of your business.”

“Did you see the renderings I emailed to you?” Robert asks briskly, not wanting to discuss Jay’s sex life any further.

“What renderings?”

“Of this house, what it could look like.”

“Oh. Yeah.” Jay has not seen the renderings.

“If it were rezoned,” Robert continues, feeling very smart, “It could be a tourist attraction - put a nice visitor’s center on the lot, make it sleek and modern. Sell trinkets. It’s a nice parcel, close to the Strip - some clever investor could make it into a Museum of Ice Cream-type thing, you know?”

“Museum of Ice Cream?”

“In New York. It’s, not, like, educational or anything. Really, it’s just a bunch of colorful rooms where kids come to take pictures of themselves.”

“Instagram,” Jay mutters. “You know, I just sold a penthouse the other week to an Instagram influencer. Takes pictures of herself on the beach to sell face cream or some shit. Eight-point-two million dollars.”

“Jesus,” Robert whistles. “Fat commission.”

“You’re telling me. My oldest daughter turns sixteen this year. She’s getting a Mazda for Christmas.”

“You ever see that show, My Super Sweet Sixteen? On MTV? Where rich kids got, like, rappers to perform at their birthday parties? Every time at the end, some guy would pull up in, like, an Escalade with a big pink bow on it and all the kids would scream.”

“Sounds stupid,” Jay says.

“It was stupid.”

It’s Robert’s turn to check his watch, a dainty gold Rolex.

“Fuck, still thirty minutes.”

“Time really does stand still in here, doesn’t it?” Jay remarks.

“We should have left the office a little later,” Robert complains. “The charcuterie is going to get –“

A deafening sound roars through the house and a violent, explosive tremor throws both men on the ground, shakes the walls and everything between them. The power’s out for a few seconds before there’s a flicker, and light fills the room again. Two backup generators, reads Jay’s description in the listing - an appeal to the prepper demographic, which trends higher in income than non-preppers. For a moment, the only things either are conscious of are the harsh flourescent lighting and the ringing in their ears. Time slows, everything seems muted and too bright. Robert rubs the side of his face, pulls back his hand and sees blood.

“Christ,” he chokes out. “What the hell was that?”

“I don’t know,” Jay breathes, looking at his hands, trying to determine if he’s got a concussion. The results are inconclusive – everything’s slow and fuzzy, but after a moment, he thinks it might just be shock.

“It sounded like a fucking 747 just nosedived on top of us.”

“Yeah, Jesus.” Jay’s still staring at his fingers in a daze. “You okay?”

“I think so,” Robert grumbles. Jay gives him a cursory examination.

“Nothing that needs stitches,” he reports bluntly. Robert’s relieved. His face sells a lot of houses to a lot of lonely women and a few lonely men. There’s a muffled whine, which the two men soon recognize as a throng of sirens. Both of them try to calm the panic rising in their chests, to no avail.

“Whatever the fuck happened,” Jay says, trying to make light of the situation, “At least we’re in here. The bunker.”

Fear forms in the whites of Robert’s eyes.

“What if we’re stuck in here,” he whispers, afraid to speak such a thing into the world. The fear spreads to his companion.

“Try the elevator,” Jay urges, and Robert gets up, wobbles a little as his head sorts itself out, and leaves. A moment later, Jay hears him swear a blue streak, and from the kitchen window, sees him standing before the closed metal doors, staring at his feet. His pulse racing, Renault jogs out to see for himself.

“It’s dead,” Robert murmurs.

“Whatever happened,” Jay says cautiously, rubbing the back of his still-sore neck, “It must have been pretty bad. Like, I don’t think we should go up yet. Besides, surely the office knows we’re still down here.”

“Right, right,” the younger man breathes, trying to reassure himself.

“Let’s just wait it out. I’m sure everything’s fine.” The way Jay says it does not make Robert feel any better.

“Okay,” the younger man grumbles. “I’m getting a fucking drink, though.”

“Yeah, Jesus. That’s the best idea you’ve had all day.” Renault shoves his hands in his suit pocket to keep them from trembling.

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#architecture #design #fiction #las vegas #underground house

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earnestly-endlessly · 3 years

Note

*flies in like magneto* can i get some exes to lovers™?

Do I have some exes to lovers fics for you? Yes I certainly do. It seems that the cherik fandom loves some exes to lovers cherik and I don't blame anyone because this ship really calls for all the angst. I hope you enjoy this list.

Exes to Lovers AU

Bound – FuryRed

Summary: Is there anything worse than someone else’s wedding? Well, perhaps your sister’s wedding- where the groom just has to invite his boss and that man just happens to be your ex-boyfriend; a person you had an extremely passionate and tumultuous relationship with that ended badly.

Charles hadn’t seen Erik for a year by the time Raven had told him about the wedding. He wasn’t looking forward to the occasion, particularly when Raven explained that they would be celebrating the event with a two-week extravaganza at a luxury hotel, meaning that Charles would be forced to spend a whole fortnight with the man who he’d given everything to; the man who had ultimately broken his heart…

Preheat to 350 (just for you remix) – ikeracity

Summary: Charles realizes he's in love with Erik. But there's one tiny little problem: he just broke up with Erik.

Thread Through a Needle – Black_Betty

Summary: Erik and Charles are broken up. Neither of them want to be.

Carry Me Anew (Frost & Darkholme Remix) – kianspo

Summary: While working as a model for Raven and Emma's clothing line, Erik experiences a strong attraction to his shoot partner. These things happen, except Erik has a boyfriend, who does not take this at all well.

Linger like a tattoo kiss – ikeracity

Summary: Six months apart gives Erik a lot of time to think about what he really wants.

(Erik's POV from Carry Me Anew (Frost & Darkholme Remix) by kianspo)

Symphysis – ikeracity

Summary: After Charles and Erik broke up four months ago, Charles convinced himself he'd never see Erik again. But life has a funny way of bringing people back together.

Call/Response – phalangine

Summary: Charles and Erik have a real conversation for the first time since breaking up. Charles is looking to avoid confrontation. Erik is not.

Regression Therapy – Fantine_Black

Summary: O, God, he’d made a terrible mistake. Whatever he’d expected to find here, Erik was still Erik, a man he’d moved continents to avoid. In retrospect, that felt like a rather good idea…

Four years after Charles walked away from Professor Lehnsherr, the two meet again for a drink.

Because things are better the second time round, aren't they?

Forever is Only a Drunk Dial Away – bettysofia

Summary: Charles is sad and drunk and stalking Erik's Instagram.

Shop Space – Caradee

Summary: Charles and Erik break up but still meet at their favorite coffee shop and manage a completely friendly relationship. The kids who work the coffee shop don't understand it, Charles' overprotective twin brother doesn't understand it, and even Charles doesn't understand it. Then, Erik shows up with a new date, someone who seems to be everything that Charles is not.

How will the Professor handle the surprising heartbreak that comes seeing Erik with someone else?

Mutant House at Dead Kings College – mabyn

Summary: When it comes to romance, Charles has terrible timing.

Can You Feel My Heart – FuryRed

Summary: Erik Lehnsherr hates Charles Xavier.

It’s as true as the words written on the wall in the bathroom at the university that Erik attends. Erik sees them one day- accompanied by a crude drawing of Erik and Charles glaring at each other- and recognises the truth of the sentence, and smiles.

He hates Charles.

Probably…

Believe (One More Time) – luninosity

Summary: For the prompt, Charles and Erik dated during college and had a bitter break-up right before graduation. It's five years later and they both meet again at their class's reunion for a weekend. Someone was even stupid enough to have them room with each other for the weekend...

Old Flame Burning – TurtleTotem

Summary: It's ridiculous for Charles to dread meeting the best man at his sister's wedding, just because he shares a name with Charles's ex. It's not as though it could possibly be the same Erik.

Don’t speak to the bartender – Wild_Imagination

Summary: Logan is a bartender, it's a gloomy evening, and in his bar there's someone with a broken heart. But this is not a movie.

Right?

Somewhere I’m Going & Have Never Been Before – Yahtzee

Summary: In late December 1984, Charles falls victim to the terrible pandemic sweeping across the globe. He's sick, probably dying, and utterly alone in an isolated cabin...until he's not.

Walking in a Winter Wonderland – TurtleTotem

Summary: Charles hasn't seen Erik since their devastating breakup ten years ago. He's certainly the last person he expects to run into at a Christmas lights display.

Lean On Me – SpiritsFlame

Summary: Ten years ago, Charles and Erik split up, dividing their six kids between them. None of them expect them to meet at summer camp. And no one could have predicted the results.

It was a yellow umbrella spring – ikeracity

Summary: Three years after Charles left for Oxford, Erik discovers that Charles is coming back to New York.

Second chances are wonderful things.

My heart above my head – annejumps

Summary: Emma thinks her coworker Erik and her friend and fellow telepath Charles should get together. No one expects things to get so intense so quickly.

The Edge of What Doesn’t End – populuxe

Summary: When a mysterious object appears on the moon, Moira MacTaggert calls in two experts with very specific mutations to investigate.

Unfortunately for everyone involved, after years of breaking up and getting back together again, those two experts have finally broken up for good—and they’re the last people in the world who should be stuck together on a spaceship.

Exit Wounds – LemonadeGarden

Summary: It's been eight months since Charles and Erik had a fight that broke apart their marriage. When a mutant rights protest goes awry and Charles begins to get sick, past memories and present obstacles begin to blur the lines of their ideological differences.

Alternatively: Charles and Erik learn how to fall in love again in troubled times.

Note: Unfinished

11 Days, 8 Hours and 12 Minutes (or Bruises, Stupidity and Anger Management) – ximeria

Summary: For six months, Erik and Charles have been the disgustingly happy couple of the school. Considering their pigheadedness and general communication skills (or lack thereof), things are bound to go boom at some point.

Moon Song – ikeracity

Summary: Werewolf AU. When Charles is captured by hunters, Erik and his pack go after him. It turns out there might be some room for redemption left for both of them after all.

I will Never Stop Loving You – swoopswoop

Summary: Erik and Charles split up three years ago but Erik never really got over it and then one day when the man who walked out of his life three years ago is walking down the street towards him, Erik sees an opportunity to mend fences.

Please leave your message after the tone – ikeracity

Summary: Spending his evening getting shitfaced and pining over Erik seems like a totally productive use of Charles's time. Luckily, it turns out to be a better idea than it sounds.

When the Spell Breaks – kianspo

Summary: Erik, a high-profile lawyer with a successful career, meets a 21-year-old grad student in a bar, and within a few short months marries him. He and Charles are blissfully happy, until Erik's boss runs a background check on Charles and discovers he's been cheating on Erik. Charles denies everything, as there was no affair, but Erik doesn't believe him and throws him out. As Charles tries to figure out how to survive and stay at school that he can no longer afford and makes a lot of bad if not plain dangerous choices, Erik has to fight his own battle of discovering the truth and winning Charles back.

We have not touched the stars, nor are we forgiven (the things you love don’t last remix) – hllfire

Summary: Charles hands Erik the signed divorce papers, but Erik has changed his mind. Too late, it seems. All he can do is go forward with the divorce.

A year later, Charles comes back, and Erik can't help but wanting to see him. The only problem is things don't go like Erik had planned.

Suddenly There’ll Be a Blizzard (Let it Snow Remix) – kianspo

Summary: Charles was never at his best while jetlagged, but locking himself out in a snowstorm while barely dressed might be a new low. The last thing he expected was to be rescued by his high school nemesis, the man he hadn't seen in over ten years, who might have broken his heart for good once upon a time.

Write this number down (you can call it anytime) – pocky_slash

Summary: When Erik upsets his children, they have a habit of running away from home--and straight to Charles' school for cookies and consolation. Charles doesn't mind the visitors, but as they appear more and more frequently, he realizes that sooner or later, he and Erik are going to have to talk about what happened on the beach and what it means for their future and the future of Erik's children.

All we do is break up (and make up) – Stuckyl0v3r

Summary: "So instead of making the most out of this next months, because you don't know where either of you is going to end up, you decided to stay away from each other to get used to the feeling?" Hank summed up, stopping in front of the class. Charles nodded his head confidently and beamed at him, but somehow his smile didn't reach his eyes.

"Yes, something like that."

Well, that was the most idiotic plan Hank's ever heard.

Three wheels of cheese and a Great White – ximeria

Summary: Charles and Erik were friends with benefits in college.

They went their separate ways and 18 years later, they run into each other in New York.

The sex was never a problem back in college - and sex was all it had been. But now Erik is a divorced father and Charles has admitted to himself he needs more than just sex in a relationship. So in their usual round-about way they try to navigate becoming friends after so many years. The whole quest is aided by Raven, Edie, Wanda and Pietro (and a large number of shark jokes).

#cherik #cherik fic recs #fic recs #asks #earnestly answers #exes to lovers #ex boyfriends

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hangovercurse · 3 years

Text

I’d Drop it All for You

Pictures of you and Pete are spread all over the internet, causing a whirlwind of hate to enter your social media.

Request: “Pete content please! anything !!! smut fluff whatever”

Pete x Reader

Warnings: Cursing, depictions of depression and anxiety

A/N: *Insert normal spiel about respecting A.G. and only using her for plot purposes. No harm intended.* Also I wrote most of this after a meeting with my therapist so... enjoy :) (He’s so cute in this gif I wanna kiss his face)

Word Count: 1820

You weren’t one of those people who loved being the center of attention. You knew that being in the spotlight also meant constantly living under a microscope, and you decided a long time ago that that was not for you.

But you were lucky enough to work as an assistant art director at just 24. You were hoping that The King of Staten Island, your newest project, would help get your name out into the professional world. But that wasn’t the only thing to come out of the film.

It happened unexpectedly, you showed up on set the first day, ready to do whatever the art director required of you. You couldn’t help but be slightly distracted by the lead actor and writer, Pete Davidson. He was so kind and funny, and he wasn’t uptight like everyone else.

After a few hours of filming, he came up to you, introducing himself. He said he “wanted to get to know everyone working on the project,” but you didn’t see him introducing himself to anyone else. You two started talking during breaks. Then he started sitting with you at lunch. Then he was asking for your number.

In a matter of weeks he was asking you out to dinner, taking you to a cozy restaurant that you absolutely adored. He walked you home, his hand grazing yours until you intertwined your fingers.

It was all very romantic, so when Pete asked if he could take you on another, you obviously said yes. Flash forward two weeks and he finally got the courage to ask you to be his girlfriend, even though you were both exclusively seeing each other already.

After filming ended 2 months later, you were still working on the film in post, which meant you had an excuse to stay in Staten Island with Pete. After about 2 weeks in post, you spent more nights in his bed than your hotel’s.

Nearly 6 months later and you were happier than ever. You were splitting your time between your small apartment in the Bronx and Pete’s basement apartment. Pete introduced you to most of his friends, and you introduced him to yours.

But other than your small circles of friends, you kept your relationship fairly quiet. Pete doesn’t have social media and yours is strictly professional, so there are no pictures of you two together. You weren’t hiding each other, you loved each other, you just had no reason to tell tabloids. And you were perfectly happy with that.

Which made it so much worse when various news sites had pictures of you two holding hands. Had they been anyone else you would’ve thought they were cute, walking along the South Beach oceanside at night.

Pete had been in the SNL studio all day when the pictures were released, while you were in his apartment, trying your best to focus on the photoset in front of you. The production team wanted the film to scream “teen romance,” which basically entails subtle pink undertones and a higher saturation. But you couldn’t quite get the coloring right, probably because you weren’t actually focusing on the colors.

You sighed, looking at the time and realizing that Pete won’t be back until sometime after 2am, which was a whole 5 hours away. You let out a huff, pushing away from the desk and making your way to Pete’s closet and searching for one of his hoodies. They always smelled like him (and weed), so it was a comfort to you.

You crashed onto the bed, finding the phone that you had tossed there a few hours earlier. Turning it on you were surprised by the number of notifications you were getting. You knew the photos had surfaced but you weren’t expecting this.

Your Instagram was blowing up with new follows, likes, and comments. It was kind of exciting at first until you started reading some of the comments.

I mean, we knew he would downgrade from Ari, but this is like… really far down.

This girl really thinks she’s special just bc Pete’s dating her. Hun he could do so much better

Who is she?!? Literally no one.

Someone needs to show her how to dress

That hairstyle is not it honey

Pete Davidson is dating YOU??? He could do sooo much better

Ari was prettier sorry not sorry

The entire comment section on your last post, a picture of you on the set of your latest film, was pretty much the same. There were some nice comments, but a lot of mean ones.

And you couldn’t help it, you couldn’t stop looking at them. It felt so cliché, but it was like all of your deepest insecurities about being with Pete were thrown out on the table.

You knew that Pete had a fairly large following, and that a lot of people had really strong feelings about him. You had expected that if and when your relationship went public you would have a lot of people watching you, scrutinizing you. But you didn’t care because Pete was worth it.

Now you weren’t so sure. It wasn’t that you couldn’t handle people talking bad about you, because you definitely could, even if it hurt. You just weren’t expecting the amount of people comparing you to Ariana or saying that Pete could do so much better.

And it only bothered you so much because you felt it too. Your inner demons loved to remind you that Pete had dated Ariana fucking Grande and now he’s dating you. Anyone could see an obvious downgrade.

You turned your phone off and threw it on the opposite side of the bed, trying to think positive thoughts. “I am in control of my own thoughts and emotions. I am catching my negative thoughts and fixing them.” You murmured your therapist’s mantra to yourself, but it was too late. The thoughts had already taken hold of your mind.

Your eyes started to water as you could feel the heavy feeling in your chest set in. You pulled the hood over your head, pulling the straps to hide as much of your face as possible, and pulling your knees to your chest. You laid like that for a while, tears falling as doubts ran through your head. Once you had effectively exhausted your thoughts, you went numb. Your tears had stopped, but you couldn’t move. This wasn’t an unfamiliar feeling, but it sure wasn’t pleasurable.

There was a sort of buzzing throughout your body, almost like the feeling when your foot falls asleep, but everywhere. It seemed to block out your sound, as you didn’t hear the basement door open. You only knew that Pete was home when he sat beside you on the bed, pulling the hood off your face.

“There’s my beautiful girl.” He smiled at you. You tried your best to fake one back, but you honestly couldn’t find the energy. Pete pulled you so you were sitting up, back pressed against his front. His arms wrapped around your middle as he pressed a kiss to your temple. “What’s goin on?” He murmured against your skin.

“Did you see them?” You asked, your voice quiet and hoarse.

Pete let out a sigh, “Yeah, I saw them.” He paused, his hold on you getting tighter, like he was making sure you couldn’t leave. “I’m sorry baby. I know you didn’t want it to be a whole big thing.”

You turned your head to face him, “It’s not that. I really don’t mind that people know. We weren’t trying to hide anything.”

He smiled, “Yeah, I know I just- it was nice having this to ourselves.”

He wanted to hide you. He’s embarrassed of you.

Your inner dialogue never seemed to shut up.

You turned away from Pete, trying to hide the tears forming in your eyes. “Yeah.” You whispered.

“What’s wrong, you’re still upset.” He rocked you in his arms, kissing the top of your head. You shrugged in response, not trusting yourself to talk. “You can talk to me, y’know.”

You nodded, leaning further into Pete’s chest. “People found my Instagram.” You murmured, looking down and tracing the arrow tattoo on his hand.

“Whaddya mean? I thought it was public?” He furrowed his eyebrows.

You sighed, wishing you hadn’t said anything. “Yeah, it is. But after all the articles people started following me and shit.”

“I would ask how that’s a problem but I deleted my Instagram so I can’t really talk.” You could tell he was trying to make you feel better, but you couldn’t seem to get out of your haze.

You shook your head, deciding to drop the matter. “It’s not, I’m just being overdramatic.” You sighed, putting on a fake smile and facing him fully. “Wanna watch a movie?” You asked, trying to change the topic.

He gave you the I-know-you’re-bullshitting-me look, which made you look down. “Something’s bothering you, Y/N. And you’re trying to pretend it doesn’t because you think your feelings aren’t valid, but they are.” He tilted his head, trying to meet your eyes that were still trained on the bedsheets below you.

“Where’d you learn that one?” You chuckled half-heartedly.

“Rehab part 2” he smiled, hand coming to your jaw to tilt your head up. “C’mon, talk to me. I wanna help.”

You huffed, moving towards the opposite side of the bed where your phone laid. You opened it, finding your Instagram, and showing him the comments. His eyebrows furrowed as he scrolled through the comments. When he decided he’d had enough he put your phone down, grabbing your waist and lifting you onto his lap so you were essentially straddling him.

He leaned his forehead against your own, your noses touching. “That’s all bullshit, you know that, right?”

You looked down, biting your lip. “Y/N you’re the most amazing, most beautiful woman I’ve ever met, okay? I’m in love with you, not anyone else.” Pete’s eyes were searching yours, trying to figure out what was going on in your head.

“I know.” You sighed, “It’s just hard to be with you and not compare myself to her. And then all these people started to do it too, and they kept saying that you could do so much better and you can. So, I dunno I guess I just kind of spiraled.”

Pete captured your lips in a long, passionate kiss. “Y/N. There is literally no better than you. I can’t do better because you are the best woman I have ever loved. “

You pulled Pete in for another kiss. “Thank you, Pete. I love you.”

“I love you too. If this happens again, I want you to call me. I don’t care what I’m doing, I’d drop it all for you.” You smiled, sitting in the arms of the guy you loved. The thoughts didn’t just magically go away, but for a brief moment in time, you were happy.

#pete davidson #pete davidson imagine #pete davidson x reader #pete davidson angst #pete davidson fluff

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agentofscifi · 3 years

Text

Success is the Best Kind of Revenge Ch. 3

Heels click onto the floor of my office as Chloe pushes open my doors. My hands were currently holding up the train of a dress hung on Juleka. Alix follows after Chloe, tinkering with some kind of camera in her hand. Over the years, as we all graduated from University and done pretty well for ourselves.

Juleka ended up changing her major in school after three semesters. Instead of going into performing arts for instruments, she went and got a composition degree. Juleka wrote music for a variety of artists and was one of the most sought-after songwriters. When she wasn’t doing all of that, she was modeling for my company. Juleka did a variety of photoshoots for several companies, mine included throughout her University Years. After I opened up my first few stores, we signed a formal contract. She’d been working for me for almost a decade. She split her time between Paris and Nashville in America.

Alix decides to focus on a degree in art history. She worked at an Auction House company in Paris, moving between the various countries of Europe to authenticate pieces of art and then handle their sales. She was rather successful at her work, earning many bonuses for rather extremely successful sales. Alix’s unique style and comfortable professionalism made her easily approachable to buyings. She was rather blunt, and it did her well in her job. On her off-hours, Alix did some minor modeling and promoting much of my athletic pieces. Alix’s popularity grew as she competed in several X-Games in and after university. She won several titles in skateboarding, BMX freestyling, rollerskating, and snowboarding before retiring after a slip-up when snowboarding. She shattered her kneecap, broke a leg, her collarbone, and dislocated her arm in two places. She still did BMX biking, skateboarding, rollerblading, and snowboarding, just not in a professional capacity. That being said, little kids still asked for her autographs all the time.

Chloe graduated from the London Business School with Honors and then proceeded to attend the Fashion Institute of Technology in New York to get a Graduate Degree in Global Fashion Management. She modeled some of my designs, worked connections, handled all my brand’s social media accounts, and finalized contracts. Now, she had several people working underneath her, to handle the day-to-day operations. Either way, Chloe handled all of the Brand’s business dealings and flourishes.

As for me, I attend the London College of Fashion. I got a Bachelor’s Degree in Fashion Design and Development with honors. After those years, I went to Milan to attend Istituto Marangoni International for a Master’s Degree in Luxury Accessories Design & Management. After that, I relocated back to Paris. My first boutique opened up quickly after that along with a small factory with a loan from a bank. I ended up having to open a second factory within three months due to demands. More boutiques opened up worldwide as the Brand became a household name.

“Hello Chloe, how is everything?”

“We got invitations to a reunion for Lycée. Alya sent them, as she was the class representative when we all graduated. Personally, I think she wants to get her hands on you or Juleka for an interview. You know her journalism career is in the gutter.”

Alix snorts. “And who’s fault is that?”

Chloe rolls her eyes. “Her’s. The idiot ruined her blog when she was a teenager and she never changed. She still does idiotic and frankly dangerous things to get a scoop. Sure, she does some basic research now, but the girl’s been detained several times for endangering people and disrupting the peace. No University would touch her, and no place will hire her.”

Alix looks up from the camera. “So, you didn’t inform everyone in the fashion journalism world about her history, knowing it would spread to all major news and journalism networks.

Chloe raises an eyebrow. “Look, this company’s image is important. I was not going to let Miss Blogger ruin it for 15 minutes of fame. She dug her own grave.”

I sigh. “This is great and all, but are you all going?”

There’s a snort right behind me. “Not on any of our lives. We will not be sinking that low.”

“Chloe!” Juleka’s face is red and slightly scandalized.

“What? Why would we go to this reunion? To see how everyone is doing? It’s rather simple. Alya’s a tabloid writer. Nino is a barely successful DJ who works at a music store to help pay his bills. Max is an IT guy at a company. That fake research paper haunts him to this day. Kim works at a gym. The drugs screwed his athletic chances over and he never planned for anything beyond going to the Olympics. Nathaniel works at an art store and does nighttime classes. He’s unsuccessfully worked with 7 different writers for his comics after leaving Marc.

Now, Myléne and Ivan are happy, at least. Myléne works as a secretary and Ivan as a grocery store manager. Both are part-time so one of them can stay home with their kids at a time. They have millions of photos of their family on their Instagram accounts. Neither one can do much with charities. The fraud they committed was spread around the charity communities fast.

Rose, Adrien, and Sabrina are the only ones who did what they wanted to do. Rose had a few years of fame with her music before getting married and settling down as a youth music teacher. Adrien moved to America and works for a University. However, I know for a fact that he will not be returning to Paris for anything less than a funeral or a wedding. As for Sabrina, after some therapy, ended up as a Detective in Marseille.”

“Didn’t you pay for her therapy?” I tie off my last stitch and let the train fall to the platform.

Chloe purses her lips. “I owed her that much. I screwed her childhood up, majorly.”

“Did you stalk everyone to find out all of this?” Alix has a mischievous look.

Another eye roll from Chloe. “I didn’t need to. In this day and age, all you need to do is type their name into the internet and all of their social media pops up.”

I hum. “What about Lila?”

“She’s still in prison. Tried another appeal a little while ago, to no avail. Her long list of offenses and the “assisting a terrorist” change isn’t something any judge would want to touch, even with a 10 ft pole.”

Juleka simply shrugs. “Back to the point at hand. I’m not going to this reunion. Rose is the only one I wanted to keep in contact with, and she’s not going. It’s her five-year anniversary with her husband. She’s going to Spain that week.”

Alix shugs. “I’m not going either. Kim has tried to contact me so many times to help him get back into the sports world. I am not giving him another chance. Besides, there’s this huge auction going on in Russia for that week. I am not missing that for a few hours with our childhood classmates.”

I look at Chloe. She raises a perfect eyebrow. “Not a chance and you are not going either. Heavens forbid Alya posts something on that new blog of hers.”

I set my needle and thread down on a work table and gesture to Juleka to get changed. “I’m not going if none of you are. Besides, there’s this fashion show in Milan that weekend. It’s for freshly graduated designers to show off their talents to possible employers. I was planning to go to find some who would specialize in Fashion Contour. I’ve been doing quite a bit of work in that field and want to get a fresh pair of eyes that will eventually take over that area of our brand. I was also hoping to look for someone to start a Make-up department. One of your people mentioned the idea at a meeting.”

Chloe nods and starts to type into her phone. “I’ll tell my assistant to look through the applications we have to see if anyone fulfills the requirements for that job. Just find that new department head.”

I give Chloe a nod as Juleka hands me the dress from before. A custom-made wedding dress for a woman who happened to be Juleka’s exact size. One of the many I had made of the years since I’d started my fashion business.

Some part of me wanted to thank Lila. If I was honest with myself, I wouldn’t be where I was if she hadn’t arrived at my class and taken everyone’s loyalty. They weren’t bad people, but thanks to Ms. Bustier, they were a drain on my energy and abilities. Now, however, I was one of the most well-known and successful fashion designers with over two dozen people for me in Design. I could not be happier.

Ch. 1 ~~~~~ Ch. 2

#alya salt #lila salt #miraculous ladybug #marinette deserves better #bustier salt #lila is exposed #success is the best kind of revenge #ml salt

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taeescript · 3 years

Text

29+1 (Part One)

𝔰𝔶𝔫𝔬𝔭𝔰𝔦𝔰: In which Seokjin is the Devil from The Devil Wears Prada, Taehyung is your work Jesus and Jimin is your handsome successful brother.

𝔭𝔞𝔦𝔯𝔦𝔫𝔤𝔰: seokjin x reader (taehyung x reader if you squint real hard)

𝔤𝔢𝔫𝔯𝔢: slice of life; ceo!seokjin (diva!seokjin)

𝔴𝔠: 3.6k

𝔴𝔞𝔯𝔫𝔦𝔫𝔤𝔰: heavy use of alcohol as a coping mechanism, a plethora of sarcasm (please don’t be offended) and a sprinkle of softness (is that a warning?).

𝔞/𝔫: this sat in my unwritten folder since 2017 no lie. I wrote the premise and a singular paragraph at that time, then just gave up. I opened it a few days ago, got inspired again and this word vomit came out (heavily influenced by a midnight Zoom call with my friends). Ngl this was so much fun to write, and I hope you all enjoy it as much as I did. This will probably be in three parts. 𝔡𝔦𝔰𝔠𝔩𝔞𝔦𝔪𝔢𝔯: I did not know that DailyHive is an actual online news source when writing. This work is purely fictional and has absolutely nothing to do with the real DailyHive.

part two

Your friends have a saying: After 29, nobody shares their age until they’ve accomplished something.

In the past, you didn’t understand it. What’s so bad about saying you’re 30 or you’re 32? That’s still a young age! Sure, you’re not exactly in your prime anymore but you’re not old, right?

So, you continue in your own wondrous world of naïveté until that fateful day at your class reunion. You had simply been walking around, minding your own business when you had been stopped by an old colleague.

“Hey, Y/N, right?” she waves you down.

You smile kindly, not even bothering to try and remember her name (you sucked at names, what could you say).

“Hey…you!” you chuckle lightly, “How have you been doing?”

An everyday question leading to catastrophic effects.

“Oh you know,” she says and rolls her eyes as if you truly did know, “I’ve just been out and about. Did I tell you though? I got married last year!” She holds out her hand in which a giant diamond adorns her finger. “Wow!” you gasp, feigning interest. It’s not that you aren’t happy for her, but you are reminded of just how single you are currently. When was the last time you felt another human’s touch? Does kissing come back as easily as riding a bicycle? “Hey!” she says suddenly, “I’m actually meeting with a couple of friends from our class. You should come join! I’m sure they’d be happy to see you again!” You want to wave her off, but against your better judgment, you find yourself following in her footsteps and listening to her speak about wedding venues and honeymoon destinations.

“Oh my god!” another female voice filters in.

The “couple of friends” this old classmate had mentioned is in fact a fairly impressive size of twenty. This is also the third time the wedding announcement has been made.

“Last year?” the female continues, “Weren’t you young?”

Yes, you want to respond. Yes she was young. A full 365 days younger than she is now.

Your classmate, Sooyoung (or Kiko as she insists going by now) titters in front of you. “I mean, you can sort of say I’m a late bloomer. I got married when I was 31.”

Her words unintentionally cut into you. Here you are at 29 without a beau in sight. You take a fast swig of your beer and end up hitting the empty glass with a clink to your teeth. Nobody notices.

“Enough about me, however, how about you?”

“I started my own business actually. It’s been doing really well and it’s been a crazy mind. Imagine me, my own boss at only 33!”

You nervously join them when they suddenly laugh together.

“Hi, can I get another pint please? Actually add a tequila shot to that,” you whisper the last part to the waitress you had just stopped.

And that was how the rest of the night went. People asking one another what they had accomplished. Any moment in time after 30 would not be mentioned until somebody travelled to Uganda to build houses at 31 or another gave birth at the same age. Below 30, anything would be attributed to luck or in your case…

“What are you doing currently?” somebody asks you, “The little baby of our class.”

Swallowing your third tequila shot of the night, you wonder for the umpteenth time how you had become a part of this giant sharing circle. You wonder if it’s a blessing or a curse that you had graduated a little early and thus was younger than most of your peers.

“Well,” you start, “I’m currently working at DailyHive.”

“Ohh!” a man gushes. You recognize him as the once-upon-a-time science partner you used to cheat notes off of. “I use DailyHive nearly as much as Instagram these days. You guys cover everything from news to sports to fashion.”

You shrug. “Yeah. It’s, uh… it’s a pretty big company!”

“What are you doing there?”

Kiko-ex-Sooyoung hits the man teasingly on the shoulder. “Y/N is probably the Director of Marketing or something. Remember how she used to spend all class doodling in her notebook?”

“Or sleeping!” someone quips.

You don’t join in when they all laugh.

“I’m…an intern,” you say with as much pride as you can in a group of established professionals ranging from dermatologists to that one guy who had flown around the world as a TedTalk guest speaker.

A hushed silence befalls everyone.

“That’s…cool!” the same man encourages you, “Interns are totally rad! Everyone wants an intern spot these days.”

His girlfriend pats your arm, almost empathetically. “Yeah. I know a bunch of people who first start off as interns and then they shoot up the ladder quick enough. As long as you’re no longer an intern at 30, you’re golden!”

Once again, the entire group laughs as if she has said the most hilarious of jokes.

She composes herself and says to you, “Because after that, you should have accomplished something.”

Her words still ring in your ears as you sit at your desk this morning.

Yeah…something. All you need to do is accomplish something in the next three months before you are officially, 29 + 1.

Your fingers tap against your thighs silently while you observe the current debate that is occurring in the conference room. You barely have time to sweep the falling hair back behind your ear as your fingers ferociously fly across the keyboard to keep in track with the meeting.

Fei is arguing that the implement of a new search word system would boost users while Daniel says that it is a waste of resources. Instead, everything should be put into updating the entire system as a whole. You have long since lost track of their words as neither pertain to what you do as an intern.

“Enough,” the CEO of DailyHive holds up a hand. His one word causes the entire room to hush over – truly, the words of a god.

And that might as well be what he is. With his hair swept back and a lone tendril curling perfectly above his brow, Kim Seokjin is legitimately a walking god. Off his broad shoulders hang an expensive white linen suit bought with his pocket change and your yearly salary. A pair of sunglasses hangs in the V of the collared shirt dipping low enough to blur the lines between being fashionably professional and just downright sexy.

The snap of his fingers brings you back to the present.

He dramatically rolls his eyes and accepts that you are an incompetent minute-taker.

“I have to remember that the world just doesn’t move as fast as I do.”

- Quote: Rolling Stones 2019 Kim Seokjin.

Now if only he’d remember he had once said that.

He points at each of them with one finger, then swipes to the left. “Both of you, solve this outside. I don’t want to hear your voices any longer. You two from the marketing team, Ungroomed Stache and Acne Chin, create me a report if we are to implement Ms. Song’s idea. The two of you from…” he takes a pause here clearly having forgotten who his employees are, “The two of you do the same thing but for Mr. Hwang.”

The pair from accounting open their mouth to protest that they are in charge of only numbers, but they are ignored.

“All of you out now. Except you,” he points his finger directly at you, “Stay.”

Nobody utters a single word until they have all left and you are left alone with him. Standing before him with your hands folded nicely in front of you, you blink and wait.

He stares right back at you, picks up his coffee mug and drops it. The clatter of ceramic smashing against the ground causes a pause in the loud buzz outside the room. You know everybody’s focus has been shifted into the room.

“Do you want to kill me?” he drawls.

You take a long inhale. “No,” you say.

“No?” he repeats the word, “Well I think you do. Did you check this coffee before you brought it to me? I tasted cinnamon in it. You know how I’m allergic to cinnamon. Get me a new cup. And this mess, get somebody to clean it. I don’t want the smell of coffee in this room when I have my next meeting here in twenty. I’m taking a smoke a break.”

He stands up and brushes past you without saying anything else.

Nobody can be allergic to cinnamon. Besides if he had actually tasted cinnamon and was that sensitive, he would be dead. And good riddance to that.

Of course, you say none of this and wordlessly begin to pick up the broken ceramic pieces of the dead mug. The bustling outside the meeting room has returned back to its normal state of chaos. Seeing the ugly stain of coffee on the once pristine carpet causes you to swear beneath your breath.

“Who the fuck is allergic to cinnamon?” a new voice says, sliding up beside you.

The second god in DailyHive; the much nicer and evidently preferred Kim; Taehyung takes the mug pieces from you and drops it into the garbage bin.

Blessed with not only intelligence but devilishly model-like features, he is your desk buddy in the small space allotted for interns and your sole friend in the company.

“Tae,” you sigh with exasperation upon seeing your lifesaver, “What am I going to do about this stain? He’s going to return in fifteen and there’s no way I can get a coffee stain out of this expensive-ass carpet.”

Taehyung taps a long finger to his lips, leaves the room briefly, and returns with a roll of Bounty sheets and a can of Febreze. He promptly blots as much of the coffee off from the carpet then proceeds to pull the meeting table.

“C’mon, Y/N, don’t just stand there. Help me! Time is of the essence!”

You laugh and join him in moving the table so that one of the legs cover the stain 80% of the way. Once he is satisfied, he takes the Febreze and sprays until the whole room smells like “Hawaiian Aloha”.

“You’re welcome.” He gives an extravagant bow, the motion popping open the top button of his shirt to expose a surprisingly chiseled chest.

Fei returns back into the room holding a phone to her ear and a clipboard in her left hand. “What the hell? It smells like a Bath & Body Works in here. Intern, aren’t you supposed to be filing or something? Stop standing around and be useful.” She grips Taehyung’s arm and drags him out of the room. “Button up. This is a professional workplace.”

You give him a tiny wave as Taehyung is steered away by his girlfriend and back to the cubicles.

Taehyung may be your saviour at work, but outside, it cannot be denied that your brother is the true Fountain of Life.

A week has passed since the coffee incident (you suspect a cleaning personnel had found the stain and cleaned up after your improv as aforementioned stain can no longer be found), but Jimin still brings it up.

“I still can’t believe that he said he was allergic to cinnamon. I’ve never heard of such bullshit before,” your brother says over the phone. You can practically hear his eyeroll from across the world.

As a renowned ophthalmologist, you have not seen Jimin for close to a year as he has been initiating his new clinic, a flying eye hospital.

“You should hear his Starbucks order. I always feel like I’m ready to launch my next EP whenever I’m at the counter,” you say.

Jimin laughs. There is the muffled sounds of voices as his never-ending flow of patients have arrived for the day.

“I shouldn’t keep you,” you say upon hearing that, “You’re probably really busy.”

“No,” he says, “I’ve got a few minutes if you’ve got a few. I miss talking to my baby sister.”

“I’m not a baby anymore, Jiminie,” you say using the nickname he hated.

“Oh that’s right. Your birthday’s in a little under three months, right? My baby sister is turning the big three-oh.”

“God, don’t remind me.”

“Want me to come visit you?”

You contemplate the idea once, having not seen Jimin in quite a while.

“Only if you have time. But I feel like Mom and Dad would probably want to see you more. Speaking of which, um… How are Mom and Dad?”

“They’re good. I hear Dad is finally going to retire this year. He’s giving his practice to Kibum, you remember him? Mom will probably start pestering us about what to do for his retirement party.”

There is a pause.

“You know, it wouldn’t hurt to say hi to them once in a while.”

You sigh. “And say what? Hey, it’s me. The child that ran away from home at 18? Yeah, I’m not a doctor like everybody else in the family but a 29 year old intern at a popular app company. Whassuuup?”

“Y/N, that’s not what I – ”

“It’s okay, Jimin. I’ve come to accept that not everybody is cut out to be a doctor. I just wish Mom and Dad could realize that.”

Jimin sighs on your behalf. There is the sound of a crying child coming through the earphone. “Well, your contract expires a few weeks after your birthday, right? Who knows, you might be the next Mark Zuckerberg.”

He has never explicitly inquired about your life plan and you know this is as much as he is willing to push without asking, “What’s next after this intern hiccup?” At least he had the decency to compare you to a controversial Internet entrepreneur.

The child is crying much louder now.

“Again with my birthday. But I’ll let you know,” is the only reply you can come up with at the moment. “Okay, brother, go forth and heal the blind. I bless thee in the name of the Holy Spirit, Son and Ghost.”

There is true laughter that rings from Jimin as he ends the call. “It’s Father, Son and Holy Ghost you dweeb. I love you sis.”

“You too.” You hang up first before he can add anything else.

With that, you enter into the 7am Starbucks queue and prepare yourself in running the first single of your long overdue EP.

Seokjin leans back in his chair, watching you from inside his office. Today he has chosen a black turtleneck and a brazen maroon-nearly purple suit jacket to complete the outfit. For once, there is an empty mug of coffee beside him and his morning headache has been appeased.

He knew he had given you an impossible task.

“Compile all the troubleshooting errors we have received since the launch of DailyHive. Organize it in a manner that allows me to identify the most prominent problem. Run it through whomever you please before giving it to me. I don’t need to waste my time correcting your mistakes.”

There is an amused smile that bubbles beneath his otherwise stoic features. He cannot deny that there is, might he dare say, a cute quality about you as you manually scan through the received concerns on your laptop dating back to the initial beta tests – the ones that were lost in a data crash and only backed up with unintelligible scribblings of previous interns.

The moment you had been introduced as the new intern, you had caught his eye. You are exquisitely mundane, and perhaps the reason you had even caught him the first time was due to solely to the fact that you were older than most interns – himself even. Nevertheless, you continue to present him small surprises in your tenacity and capability to tackle challenges.

“Mr. Kim.”

His intercom comes alive with the voice of his secretary.

Seokjin’s eyes do not leave you as he answers.

“Mr. Hwang is on line two. Would you like me to defer him to a later time if you are currently busy?”

Seokjin cannot help but sigh. Hwang Junho, his co-founder, while a genius in international business is also a notorious chatterbox and gossip. There is seldom a reason for Junho to call him except to relay the cover titles of E!Magazine.

“Did he mention a reason for calling?” Seokjin inquires.

His secretary seems to be reading from a note. “He says it’s to do with the company. Something he read from Cosmopolitan this morning.”

So not E! but another sister celebrity gossip blog. He checks his watch and duly notes that he certainly has no meetings scheduled until later in the afternoon where your report would be needed to run a preliminary analysis.

“Sir?”

“Yes, put him through. But tell him I’ve got only five minutes, so he’s better give me the Cliffnotes version,” Seokjin sighs again.

Before he can be connected, Seokjin quickly says, “What’s the name of that intern again?”

“Who?” his secretary asks, “We’ve hired four since the beginning of the year.”

“The one who keeps wanting to poison me.”

“I’m sorry, Sir?” she sounds concerned.

“The one who keeps forgetting that I despise cinnamon.”

There is no response.

“The older one. Spilled coffee a while ago but still has enough coordination to pull together a decent report.”

“Ah,” she says.

He waits patiently as she searches through the database, eventually giving him your name. He gives a slight pause and then says, “Good. Now patch me with Junho.”

There is a momentary buzz as the call becomes connected in which Seokjin turns over the syllables of your name wordlessly.

“Mr. Kim. The man of the hour. How are you, my brother?” Junho’s baritone fills the office in a manner of seconds.

Despite the little annoying quirks, Seokjin cannot help but smile when hearing the voice of his best friend.

“You’ve got three minutes, Junho.”

Junho grumbles. “That’s not my fault. You were the one still on the line with your secretary. Is it still Yerin? ‘Cuz I won’t blame you if that’s the case. Did I catch you doing some naughty phone sex during office hours?”

“Two.”

“Holy hell. Fine. It’s always business with you. That’s why the tabloids are always writing you as an uptight asshole.”

This shifts Seokjin’s attention to the phone. His name is seldomly mentioned except for the features in business columns. He prefers to stay out of the limelight.

“What?”

“Put your name on Google.”

Seokjin does as he is told.

There are millions of results, but the first few pages share the same headline. He clicks on the first one with a grimace.

“Kim Seokjin. Mr. Worldwide Handsome as noted by his fans, has recently sparked Internet outrage.”

A quick skim of the otherwise trashy article brought to the surface a summary: his last dating scandal had ended badly and the repercussions of blowing off a famous celebrity’s daughter had finally caught up with him. The Internet was calling him arrogant, narrow-minded, and even greedy. “The young Chief Executive Officer of booming social media app DailyHive has been accused of using his relationship with actress XYZ to further his own business. Once he gained recognition from aforementioned relationship, he has cold-heartedly cast her away to pursue his next.” “You’re calling me for this bullshit?” Seokjin scoffs. Junho tuts his tongue loudly. “This is not bullshit. It’s affecting the image of your company. Do you think people want to download and support an app that is run by somebody who is being called cruel and dishonest? You’ve got to address this soon before it gets out of control. You’re lucky I have alerts set for these type of things. I caught it for you just in the nick of time.” Seokjin inhales deeply. “You’re also lucky that I’ve got the perfect solution in mind.” “That is?” “The Silver Gala,” Junho references the prestigious event. The Silver Gala is hosted annually and attended by the largest celebrities as well as other wealthy investors and guests. Those in the social circle shared between Seokjin and Junho often yearned for tickets to attend events such as this, as they serve as excellent networking opportunities. Besides the above, such events are circled by reporters and writers of gossip columns to get the exclusive scoop on any eyebrow-raising rumours. “The solution lies in such an event,” Junho continues, “You know how many people will be there. All you’ve got to do is show up with your average girl-next-door type and it’ll show how you’re actually really humble and down to earth. Kim Seokjin is perfectly capable of dating like any regular human being. He doesn’t use “love” or whatever to further his business. Love is the connection between two souls; two individuals who – ” “Beep. Your time has run out Junho. I’ve got another meeting scheduled right this moment,” Seokjin interrupts. “Dude, seriously. Think about it. You could bring Yerin. Everbody loves a good CEO and his secretary affair. And if that’s too juicy for you, I can introduce you to some girls. Or maybe we could go back to our university days and hit a bar, y’know?” Junho tries his best to persuade. “Fuck!” you swear beneath your breath right as you walk into Kim Seokjin’s office. His door had been open and, in your excitement to show your completed report, you had dropped all the loose papers on the ground. Four hours of organization gone, just like that. You hope that at least Seokjin hasn’t heard or noticed you as he had been engrossed in his phone call. Seokjin had in fact noticed you. He can’t help himself but follow the curvature of your bare shoulder as your bangs escape the hold of your scrunchie and sweep across your skin. “Don’t worry, Junho, I’ve just thought about it,” he says with a smile.

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