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littlemisslipbalm · 4 years ago

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“Harry’s stylist, right?”

Summary: Harry and his personal stylist are great collaborators, on screen and off. She helps his visions come to life and in turn they’ve become close friends. As she helps him to bring his fashion dreams come to life during the Fine Line era, will some other dreams come to life as well?

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

this fit is very important to this part lmaooo - I literally have no idea what to call this lol, anyway I've been sitting on this for forever and I wanted to get something out for yall and i love this story there will be a part 2 when i get to a writing mood. I love this story bc its my literal dream - anyway!! pls enjoy and reblog and lmk what you think :)

Word Count: 14k | Warnings: swearing, drinking, tame for now, should be smut eventually - aka slow burn (what else would you expect from me at this point i guess)

part 2

“Hey, H, I just had a question about one of the SNL outfits? Do you have a sec?”

Harry looked up from his phone and raised his brows at his stylist, Y/N.

Y/N had worked with Harry previously. In photoshoots for Another Man magazine and his most recent Gucci campaign. As well as some other random times, such as one-off award show looks and specific appearances. However, this past summer Harry had hired Y/N to work fulltime for him, exclusively. He had told her that he was planning on releasing his second album in the winter and he wanted someone there to help him plan his clothes for music videos, award season, interview appearances, as well as tour outfits.

Y/N stood just inside the doorway of the room, leaning her back against the wall, looking expectantly at him. Her eyes were wide and her lips were pursed. She was dressed simply in a white satin skirt and a matching cropped button-up, they both had cream flowers embroidered on, paired with horsebit slim Gucci mules. Her style was eclectic, but she had definitely noticed an increase of Gucci in her wardrobe since starting her employment with Harry.

Y/N’s passion in life was fashion and clothes and she constantly worried that one of Harry’s outfits wouldn’t deliver as much as she wanted it to. He was quick to tell her not to worry so much though, as long as they both were happy with it, how could anyone else not love it. Plus, he’d always add, it didn’t really matter what anyone else thought. But as more and more events began to crop up, Y/N’s worry over her work grew. She had only been the head stylist for Harry on projects that were still underwraps - except for Lights Up which had been released a couple weeks ago now.

The first project she ever worked on with Harry as his full-time personal stylist was the Lights Up music video. She had never worked so closely with one person for so long on just one project. Harry was insistent in vision and came in the first day filled with ideas, what he imagined for the video's concept and how he wanted to incorporate clothes. She had been happy to make his dreams become reality.

The two of them spent hours at his house for weeks, pouring over every detail of every outfit he planned to wear. They both wanted it to be perfect. And eventually, it all came together, exactly how they had planned. All of the garments for the video took up two entire garment racks. Y/N had made Harry pose in every single outfit for polaroids that she dated and then put into a lookbook she started for him. She had told him she planned to document every outfit she styled for him and Harry had been so excited. The outfits he wore in the video were received with praise when it was finally released, and Harry and Y/N were overjoyed. There was already a party for its release, but they both were especially happy that night. Throughout the evening, Harry and Y/N would gravitate to one another and fall into side conversations about the outfits and what people had been saying. Even if Harry said it didn’t matter, he and Y/N both knew, at the end of the day, they loved when people were happy with their work.

“Sure,” he bounced to his feet, but Y/N made a hand motion telling him that he could stay seated. He settled back down as she crossed over and sat beside him on his couch.

She was at his house in London today planning his next few appearances that were promotion for the upcoming album, Saturday Night Live was next. Harry had been taking a break from their work until she had come in.

It wasn’t unusual for Y/N to be at his house, they had been working together for months now. First, it had been for his outfits in his music videos that were filmed in late summer and early fall, like Lights up, but also a few other ones. Now, it was clothing for promo appearances, interviews, and listening parties. Next, it would be tour outfits, which she had already started planning, but officially, they hadn’t started discussions yet. Harry had helped her to get a flat closer to his house in London just for her to be able to head over and help with the planning or fitting of his outfits more easily. She also was constantly traveling with him to his appearances, making sure outfits were perfect right before whatever show it was or making last minute adjustments in case either of them decided something wasn’t right.

While Harry was a big guy, his waist was far trimmer than a usual man built to his size, this meant she had to take in a lot of his trousers at the waist. As well, with his shirts and coats, she’d have to take them in or out depending on how Harry wanted the fit to be - either perfectly tight or perfectly oversized. He was particular, but she appreciated his drive for fashion and how he cared for his appearance. Before performances, she often had to take things in or out based on any body fluctuation that had occurred since the initial fitting.

She was looking at her sketchpad that held all of her notes on his clothes - which was different from the lookbook of polaroids - including patches of the actual colors and little Harry figures dressed in what he was going to wear. Right now, she had the pad opened to a page titled “SNL Opener - November 16, 2019”.

“So I was thinking with your opening monologue outfit, it might look better to have a different colored blazer? A matching yellow would be great, but if you did more of a toned down - maybe light tan or beige - blazer with gold embellishments, you’d elevate it to look sophisticated and stylish, rather than just stylish. It’d be exactly like the runway look - which I know you sometimes don’t like, but I think it’s what looks best.”

She ran her finger between two swatches of what she thought would be the better blazer color and the one Harry had originally wanted. He wet his lips and gazed at the page as he thought about what she said. Normally, she liked monochrome on him, but she thought the deep blue underneath a completely yellow suit might wash him out on the stage.

“Yeah,” he pointed to the top beige swatch, “I think I do like this better.” He paused and turned his head to Y/N, looking in her eyes before asking, “Is that all?”

“Er...no,” Y/N ran a hand over her unstyled hair, slightly fluffed by her constant musing of it. She often fiddled with it while she worked, better than biting nails she always said when confronted about her tick. After a sigh Y/N continued, “I was just on the phone with Jane from Gucci and she said that for Look 57 they could only send your technical size, for some reason they can’t custom make it. Meaning, I’ll have to tailor the whole thing to you when it arrives. Is that alright? Or do you want to choose something else?”

She flipped to a page that said “SNL WS.” Harry followed her hands and nodded realizing she was talking about the Gucci suit he wanted to wear for Watermelon Sugar. It was a watermelon’s inside red. When he had found out the suit came in that color, he had danced around the dining table for what Y/N had felt like was an hour, humming the tune of Watermelon Sugar excitedly. Finally, she had coaxed him to sit back down and get back to their other work, which was still picking out clothes.

“No, that’s fine,” Harry shook his head and used his thumb to scratch under his lips absentmindedly, “It really needs to be that color.”

She nodded, she knew what his answer was going to be, but she also knew he still liked to make the final decision.

“Alright, we’ll just have to meet for longer when everything arrives, to tailor that one. Then the rest of them should just be making sure the fit is perfect.”

She rose up from her seat and patted Harry’s shoulder, leaving him to his thoughts, as she went back to finish up the calls with Jane and the designers.

He caught her hand in his before she completely walked away, “Thank you, Y/N.” He was so grateful he had hired someone who was as driven as he was and understood his fashion sense and wanted to help enhance what he was thinking, rather than someone trying to control him or just going along with whatever he said. Neither would be productive or helpful, thankfully Y/N loved her job and cared to do things right.

She grinned before exiting, “H, you’re going to be this century’s style icon if it’s the last thing I do.” He laughed as she walked out of the room, leaning back on the couch to continue his lurking on Instagram.

One week later

“I’m here, H! I come bearing Gucci and more!” Y/N said as she shuffled through Harry’s front door, she held a deconstructed rack and a garment bag filled with heavy suits and things. Inside were Harry’s four most important outfits for SNL, some other garments for SNL, and some clothes they had talked about for his upcoming listening sessions later in the month. Y/N needed to check the fit on all of them and begin tailoring the Watermelon Sugar suit. The key Harry had given to Y/N, previously, had let her in, but she assumed he was home. He said he’d be.

When Y/N rounded the corner she found another empty room. Confused, she set down her large items and went to search for Harry. Y/N literally needed him to be here for this part. It was the only real time she actually needed to see him in person - but that was beside the point.

“H?”

She wandered through the different rooms of his home. Normally, Y/N didn’t go into the other rooms, she was always mainly in his lounge area, the dining room, and a little casual office room he had - sometimes the kitchen for water, his bedroom once. Still not finding him, she decided to venture to the furthest door, Harry’s bedroom, she remembered.

Harry groaned at the sound of a knock on his door, he rolled over in his bed. After a few moments of hearing nothing else than his groan, Y/N felt like she had to go in and check on him.

“H, it’s 12:30 and we agreed we’d meet at noon. Are you feeling alright?”

Y/N moved into the room and found a shirtless Harry surrounded by rumpled sheets, clutching at a pillow. He groaned into his pillow again in response. Her legs bent at the edge of the bed and she reached out to smooth some of his chestnut hair out of his face, “What’s wrong?”

He moved his head to allow his eyes to look at her, “‘M so tired, don’t know why. My stomach kind of hurts too…” Y/N looked at him quizzically, before running her hand over his tan forehead once more, this time checking for a fever. “You don’t have a fever. When did you go to sleep? Have you eaten anything today?” With her help, Harry moved into a seated position, head tilted back against the bedpost. He sat silent for a moment before blowing air out of his mouth. “Went to sleep kind of late for me, I guess...Haven’t eaten.”

“Ok, you’re just tired from staying up late, you old man, and you might be a little dehydrated and hungry. Listen, I’ll go make you some food if you get up and prepare yourself for the day. We need to get all your clothes fitted so that I can fix anything before next week.” Y/N was always good at getting Harry back on track when he got distracted - or even out of the station, when he wasn’t in the mood to work on something. She slid from her perch on the bed and walked to almost the edge of the room before Harry called her back.

“Can you pick out my clothes for me?” His soft, tired voice whined. “So hard...and you’ve got the best eye. Pleaseeee,” he pleaded softly.

Rolling her eyes, Y/N sighed and made her way back into his room. Crossing to the door that led to his walk-in closet, she set to work. As silly as he was being, she could never pass up on a chance to pick out an outfit for Harry.

“You’re literally going to be changing the entire time, H, you could have just thrown on sweats,” she called back to him once inside the smaller room. He repeated how she always picked the right thing, even for just around the house. Again, Y/N rolled her eyes at Harry, but she also couldn’t hide the warm smile on her face that was due to his compliment.

She couldn’t believe how dramatic Harry could be sometimes. Right now, he was a lesser form of hungover and he was acting like his life was ending. Y/N had made a note a while ago to never agree to a meeting on the day after any partying. She learned the hard way one particularly terrible Sunday. She had come round his house at a similar time, noon-ish and found Harry dead asleep, backwards in his bed. When she had roused him, his only responses were grumbles and groans. She had to not only pick out his clothes, but also help dress him. Then, after providing water and aspirin, she moved all their work into his bedroom so they could work from there. Harry had proved to be a baby when it came to hangovers. But, she hadn’t realized he could get like this even without being truly hungover.

After settling on his live aid t-shirt, that Y/N was eternally jealous of, located at the front of his drawer and his favorite corduroy trousers, she walked out and threw them in the direction of his toned, but slumped body. “I will not get you boxers, that is most definitely not in my job description, Boss.” Y/N sent a pointed look in his direction, moving to finally leave the room. While he was technically her boss as her employer, their work relationship was extremely collaborative and it never felt like he was in control of her, she just liked to give him shit for being a drama queen.

“Guess I’ll be going commando. How’s that going to work with me changing in front of you a bunch of times?” He teased right back, taking the clothes you had thrown at him and giving them a onceover. His teasing signalled that he was already feeling better.

Y/N shook her head and walked out of the room, “For the love of God, Harry, please put on underwear before you come out and continuously strip in front of me!”

The words he shouted after that were muffled, but they were something along the lines of how the human body is beautiful and shouldn’t be covered up. Unbelievable. As she set to work on making both of them some lunch, she finally heard Harry begin moving around. They had a lot of work to do as it was and whenever Harry was in a mood, whether it be a good mood or a bad mood, they always seemed to have a hard time focusing.

One night, that could be seen as the poster child for Harry and Y/N’s procrastination, was during the planning for the Adore You music video. Harry was in a super good mood that day and he had brought that energy to their meeting at his house. Y/N was supposed to be fitting him for the various outfits, but Harry, in his mania, ordered an overzealous amount of Chinese food. It took her and Harry hours to even make a dent in the food. And while they passed the time with eating, Harry and Y/N got further and further from their tasks, opting for conversations that included more fun topics than work. They had gossipped about some of the other people they worked with, Harry had begged for “the tea” about some of his other staffers and Y/N was happy to oblige. As much as Y/N would hate to admit it, she loved when they got off of work subjects and talked about how their day’s had been and what has been on their nerves lately. It was a nice way to decompress, it was like hanging out with a friend, except it wasn’t, not really.

Harry shuffled into the kitchen wearing what Y/N had picked out for him. Her smile grew knowing that he hadn’t changed what she’d picked. His confidence in her and her abilities never failed to feel like the biggest compliment.

“Go sit at the dining table, I’ve made us some little sandwiches and then we can decide the order we want to go through the outfits in.”

Before following Y/N’s orders, Harry continued his shuffling around, first to the cabinet for a glass, then to the fridge for water. At the end of the table, she set the plates between the head of the table’s spot and the one to its left. Harry took the side spot, so Y/N was on the end. After a bite of his food, Harry moaned loudly in contentment. This caused an amused look on Y/N’s face, there had been nothing special in his house so she had just made what was possible. This meant that Harry’s satisfaction was a little over the top.

“You’re acting like you haven’t eaten in a week. What did you do last night that got you in such a twist?” Y/N asked as she took a sip of her own glass of water. Harry nibbled at his lower lip after swallowing, trying to understand why he was particularly tired today.

“I guess I forgot to eat properly yesterday and then I went out running. And I stayed up late on the phone with,” he paused, eyes flashing to Y/N and then away again, “someone for SNL.”

Y/N hummed at his words before going back to her own eating. She didn’t understand why he hesitated about telling her he’d been on the phone last night, it especially irked her that he wouldn’t even say with whom. Professionally, it wasn’t really her business, but Harry was never secretive with her. Plus, it seemed to be work related so why was he being so flighty about it.

Moving forward, Harry peppier from eating and simply moving around, the pair set to work. They decided on trying on everything else first and then saving the Watermelon Sugar suit to the end. The other three main pieces for the night fit perfectly, Y/N had to only do minor reworks of certain areas.

“H, I need you to hold still…” Y/N interrupted Harry’s ramblings as she was crouched beside him.

She had to take up the hem on the pant legs so right now she was trying to pin them in the place she and Harry had agreed upon, without messing with the pleats.

“Sorry,” He mumbled, straightening out his back to stand taller.

He stayed quiet for a bit until Y/N popped back up, she looked at her notebook for reference on what she still had to tailor.

“Okay, next, the pants crotch is looking pretty fitted, so I assume you want it taken down a bit,” Y/N said as she got back into her crouching position. “Look in the mirror and tell me where you think letting it out looks best, I don’t have the best vantage point when I’m up this close…” she trailed off, placing her measuring tape directly on top of Harry’s crotch and running it down his leg a ways.

Once done with her first attempt at where she thought was best to let the pants out, she turned her eyes to the mirror that showed Harry in his suit with Y/N on her knees before him. Harry cleared his throat as he looked in the mirror, seeing Y/N with her eyes wide in anticipation in the position she was in made him want to run and hide. Her hands were extremely close to his dick, but it was literally her job, he knew he had to shake the thoughts that were running through his mind.

“Maybe just a bit further up actually, as much as I like the high waist with dropped crotch, I want this suit to have that specifically tailored look,” his hands motioned for Y/N to bring the drop up a ways.

Her hands then brought the measuring tape up, once again grazing over his area. Again, Y/N looked at Harry through the mirror for approval, and this time he gave it and she placed a single pin in the place where the pants would be let out to.

Standing up, Y/N hoped Harry didn’t notice the blush gracing her face. She was a stylist and used to being around naked bodies as well as touching around a man’s crotch when working. But Harry in this suit must have been magic, because she had felt extremely vulnerable on her knees in front of him in it. She had felt flushed the minute he hadn’t liked what she had done initially and she hated that she felt that way for some reason. Beginning to work on the sleeves of the suit set her at ease, Y/N was thankful to no longer be kneeling or in such close proximity to what was under Harry’s pants.

“Anything on your mind of late?” Harry broke the silence.

Y/N hummed with a pin stuck between her lips, folding up the suit jacket’s right sleeve. Plucking it from her mouth after a few silent moments, she said, “Not really, haven’t had time to do much else lately. Always thinking about you,” Y/N flushed as she realized what she had just said. “I mean, thinking about you like about your clothes and when they’re going to arrive and what I need to do about them, not you personally, sorry that came out wrong,” her blush intensified as she rapidly fumbled through her last sentence.

“Ow!”

“Oh my god!”

While Y/N had gotten flustered with her words, she managed to stick the pin she was using straight into Harry’s flesh. She immediately removed the pin from where it had stuck him.

“Oh god, I’m so sorry, H, we’ve got to get this off. I need to make sure you’re not bleeding onto the suit.”

Y/N rushed around to Harry's backside and began slipping off his suit jacket as Harry chuckled and began to unbutton the shirt as carefully as possible.

“‘S alright, Y/N, if there’s any blood on the shirt it’ll blend in, blood is practically the same color.” She glared at him through the mirror and Harry continued to laugh, “That is not funny, H, I shouldn’t have stuck you in the first place.”

“No, no,” Harry hushed Y/N as she began to slip off his shirt from one side to the other, taking off the sleeve on the side she hadn’t poked, “you’ve got so much on your plate with all the planning for the upcoming events. Then you worked yourself up over a little slip.” As Y/N carefully unbuttoned the cuff of the sleeve to try and slip off the shirt with the least amount of blood on it as possible, Harry finished with, “I wouldn’t mind if you were just thinking about me, though, an’ not the clothes.”

This time, Y/N was very in control, not willing to let herself slip up a second time today. She didn’t know how to respond to what Harry had just admitted. It wasn’t like this hasn't happened before. Both of them were guilty of making little comments that made it sound like they were interested in each other in a way that was a little different than professional or friendly. But every time the other person always had the responsibility to shut the idea down or completely blow past what their counter had just said.

“Harry…” She began, it was soft and pleading, like she was saying she couldn’t entertain that idea. Examining his forearm, after pulling the shirt completely away and resting it on a nearby chair, she saw a little spot of blood protruding from the pin prick she had caused. “Where do you keep your bandages?” Y/N decided that it was best to brush past Harry’s words this time and went off to find his first aid kit. Harry stood there, shirtless, staring at the blood on his arm. It really wasn’t a lot and it wouldn’t have done anything to the suit, but Y/N was always so careful and never wanted to ruin any of Harry’s clothes.

On her return, Y/N came upon a shirtless Harry perched on the edge of the table, with one arm crossed and his other - that was bleeding - being held slightly away from his body, as if Harry was afraid to touch it. His posture was slumped so Y/N could see his spine curving beneath his tanned honey-soft skin and his shoulder blades slightly flexed. While most of Harry’s body was covered in tattoos, she noticed how the closest tattoo to his back was the small line drawing of a guitar on the back of his left shoulder. Other than that his smooth back was bare. Y/N found it interesting that Harry had never chosen to ink his back. She jogged lightly back into the room and Harry’s head turned to watch her approach. His bottom lip was caught between his teeth as he regarded her. She noticed he was being particularly quiet, but she had no idea why. Maybe he was still tired.

Y/N set to work on finding the correct tissue, neosporin, and bandage for Harry’s small wound. As she worked on fixing up her mistake, Harry’s eyes followed her movements. Green eyes flickering between her hands on his arm and her own eyes focusing on her task.

“After this, I actually can just head home and finish the rest of the work,” Y/N said as she unpackaged the bandage, “I already know where I need to take in the suit sleeves and the shirt’s sleeves were looking fine. So, I can get out of your hair and you can get to sleep early tonight.” She placed the nude toned bandage over Harry’s arm, she was a little sad to find he didn’t own fun bandages. That was something that she expected from Harry, but she resigned that maybe she didn’t know everything about Harry.

Before Harry could speak, Y/N continued, “Don’t rehearsals for the show start tomorrow? When are you flying to New York?” She ran her hand over the bandage, smoothing it in place. Her hand lingered there as her eyes looked up and met Harry’s. Harry twitched his arm away from Y/N’s touch and scratched his nose slightly.

“Yeah, I’m flying out tomorrow morning. When are you set to fly out?”

“Friday. I’ll get in before the final dress rehearsal and then I’ll be there for the show.” Y/N stepped back and began to rehang the suit jacket and shirt that they had discarded in her haste to not get blood on them.

Then Y/N stood there staring at Harry. He looked at her slightly confused by her doing nothing when she said she was leaving. “Pants, H.” She said finally when she realized he had forgotten he was still wearing the suit pants. “Oh! Sorry,” Harry exclaimed as he began to unbutton and remove the pants he was wearing. He handed her the pants and she exchanged them with his live-aid t shirt. He took it graciously before slipping it on and disguising his toned body beneath it. Then he took his pants from earlier and fully redressed himself.

“Damn!” Y/N said and Harry’s head flipped to watch her as she began to put all of the clothing back in their garment bags and take down the rack.

“What’s wrong?”

“I just pinched myself with the rack, I’m all left feet today.”

“Here,” Harry chuckled as he walked over to help Y/N, “let me help you with all this. Just in the boot of your car, yeah?” Y/N nodded and smiled in appreciation for Harry. He grabbed her keys laying on the table and then took the rack and a garment bag. Even if things sometimes got tense between them, for whatever reason, he was always quick to move past it and be thoughtful and kind in the best ways for Y/N. After shaking her hand out, she grabbed the last garment bags and followed Harry out to her car. Harry shut the back of her car softly and turned to face Y/N, she stood beside her car door, ever so slightly leaning against it. He walked to her side and smiled.

“I’ll see you in a week,” he said before wrapping his arms around Y/N’s much smaller frame. His body was radiating heat and it felt good against Y/N in the crisp night air of London. She pressed into his hold and wrapped her arms around his waist and squeezed him hard. “Less than...Can’t wait to see you make an absolute fool of yourself out there.” Harry protested her tease with a small, “Hey!” but mostly focused on his hands on her back and the way her hair felt especially soft under his chin. Finally, Y/N pulled away, “Kidding! You’ll be amazing and you’ll look killer while doing it.” She winked before opening her car door and driving off. Harry was left with the lingering scent of her perfume and shampoo mingling in his nose.

It was the Saturday night, November 16th, 2019.

Harry and Y/N were in his dressing room before the show started. His outfits for the night were lined up, except for his opener one that Y/N had just dressed him in. His first change would be for Light’s Up, then a couple skit outfits that had to be moved elsewhere for quick changes, then the Watermelon Sugar suit, and then finally his end of the show casual look. The opener looked incredible, it’s fit was impeccable and Y/N knew people were going to love it.

She stepped back from Harry to give his whole body a once over, the SNL hairstylist had just blown out his hair and given him a sort of middle part. It definitely looked good and paired with the suit - Y/N could already tell it was going to be a hit by all accounts. Harry grinned back at her, doing a little dance to show just how much he was loving his clothes and how excited he was.

Grabbing the lint roller, Y/N gave the lapels of his suit jacket a once over and then moved it slightly out of the way to roll the big collar of Harry’s shirt and the bits of the body of the shirt that were showing underneath the jacket. Basically, Y/N was lint rolling over Harry’s clothed abs. Apparently, that was a ticklish area for Harry because he began to squirm and giggle under the tool’s touch.

“Seriously, H?”

She smiled as she said it, so excited for Harry that she couldn’t be mad at his relestness.

“Can’t help it. ‘M so giddy. Plus, I’m a wee bit ticklish.”

Y/N gave him a single laugh before removing the lint roller and smoothing over the shirt against his stomach and then over the lapels when she put the jacket back in place. She adjusted the Gucci reader’s she was wearing today, that were more for decoration than anything, but she liked to pretend they made her see better.

“You look smashing, Mr. Styles. Absolutely gorgeous, if I do say so myself.”

“Are you talking to me or the suit?” Harry asked as he flipped to look in the full length mirror in the dressing room.

“Can’t it be both?”

“Sure,” Harry said, he noticed the clock and realized it was his time to get in places. He leaned down and placed a small kiss on Y/N’s cheek, “It’s my time, thank you, Y/N.” She blushed at his words and actions. As he walked out the door, she called after him, “Break a leg, H!” He sent a final air kiss in her direction before completely disappearing.

She looked at the clothes hanging on the rack in the room and palmed over the fabric. Checking the lapels and brushing the lint roller over the, she finally stepped back and was happy with how they looked. When the show was just about to start, she flitted to the part of backstage where she could watch Harry perform. She giggled along to his monologue and grinned whole-heartedly when the crowd would roar with approval. Y/N had heard all of the jokes already because of the dress rehearsal yesterday, but it didn’t matter. Harry was killing it. She also took time to appreciate how good Harry looked in his suit on stage. In front of the lights and all the people, his suit shined brightly with the pops of blue and yellow and the oversized grey-iege jacket. His soft chestnut hair billowed perfectly to frame his forehead as he sipped from the faux martini. Y/N bit her lip to stifle her laugh. The fact that Harry, her boss and friend, was up on the Saturday Night Live stage with pink and blue nails sipping from a faux martini, it was perfect.

When Harry came back for his first performance change Y/N was right there waiting for him.

“Hi, that was really good,” she smiled up at him as he began to take off his coat.

He smiled brightly back at her as he exhaled a hefty breath, “You think so?”

“Yes! C’mon, everyone loved it. You delivered it all perfectly…” she took over undoing the buttons on the shirt because Harry was moving too slowly. “I’m in a man band now…” Y/N mumbled under her breath before chuckling.

“Did you just imitate my accent?” Harry said, now pulling off his sleeves.

Y/N moved around his back to take the shirt to hang and grab his Lights Up outfit. They worked like a well-oiled machine together, constantly taking over roles to get things done more efficiently, but never stepping on each other’s toes.

“Nope,” she winked before handing him the black sequin jumpsuit and exchanging it for his yellow pants. After rehanging the pants and bringing over Harry’s different set of boots, Y/N said, “Y’know, I’d have to say that your hair is giving your suit a run for its money.” She placed the shoes on the table beside Harry and began to fix into the place different parts of the jumpsuit, moving to zip up the back and then coming to the front to smooth it.

“What do you mean?” Harry looked in the mirror and delicately touched the edges of his hair, considering Y/N’s statement.

“No one ever really sees it how it is, nicely blown out but not too much product so it falls to frame your face. What’d you tell the hair person you wanted?” Y/N stepped back to allow Harry to change his boots from one Gucci pair to another, like he did with most of his wardrobe.

“Just told them to make me look mature. You think it looks good?” He looked up at Y/N when he asked the question.

“Think it looks sexy, that’s what I’m saying, no one’s gonna be able to focus on your clothes with how good your hair looks.”

“Ah,” he deftly runs his hands down his suit as he looks in the mirror.

Y/N just stares at Harry, checking him over one more time. She wasn’t lying about his hair, it was sexy and she wanted to run her hands through it to feel how soft it was. In a complete friend way of course.

“I like it…”

“It looks like you just rolled out of bed, but the bed was made of angel feathers.”

Harry laughed at Y/N’s description. He shifted his body to face her more and moved closer to her in the process.

“Alright, you should probably get back out there,” Y/N closes the gap between them and adjusts the chain of his jade and silver crosses and brushes over his broad shoulders.

They’re professional touches, but her movements hold an undercurrent of intimacy that neither of them realize. If anyone had been looking on, they would see how Y/N’s fingers delicately caressed Harry’s skin right before she cradled the pendants to move them in place. They would also see Harry instinctively lean forward into her touch and breathe slightly deeper to take in her scent. When she brushes over his shoulders, he straightens up at the touch and shows he’s ready to get back out there. It’s as if she prepared him to go.

Harry sings Lights Up and the crowd loves it. Sarah kills her drumming and Mitch eats up lead guitar. The backup singers bring out a different tone to the song. It is all around an amazing performance.

As Y/N clapped along with the crowd from backstage, Aidy Bryant approaches her.

“You’re Harry’s stylist, right?”

Y/N turns her head at the woman next to her, “Yeah?”

Aidy smiles, eyes slightly gleaming, “Well, you’re wonderful at your job.” As Y/N is about to thank her, Aidy continues, “And Harry knows that too, he talked about you all week. We all thought you were his girlfriend at first.”

Y/N laughed lightly and had to keep herself from letting her jaw drop at Aidy’s words. She even choked a bit on her own spit and had to cough slightly before even being able to think of a response, “Well, um, yeah...no, H, Harry is just my employer and...friend. No dating, we just get along well. Which is important since we spend a lot of time together - for work of course!”

Aidy smiled sweetly at Y/N, “Yeah, Harry explained that when Beck asked him how long you’d been together. At first he had said a couple months and then said ‘wait, Y/N is just my stylist, we’ve been working together for a couple months’ and then we all felt really dumb.”

“Don’t feel dumb,” Y/N reassured her, unsure why she was actually continuing this conversation, “He loves to talk about clothes and that’s where I fit in to his life, so I’m sure my name would come up a fair bit. Was that it?”

“Yeah I guess, but-” Aidy began to say more, but Y/N cut her off.

“Oh gosh, I’m sorry, but Harry’s finished and I’ve got to go help him change for his next song.”

Aidy was left in Y/N’s wake, chuckling to herself, fully reassured about the reason that they had all thought Harry had been dating Y/N. Because they already acted like a couple. And they were both helplessly in love with one another and neither of them knew.

The rest of the show went off without a hitch. Harry continued to wow the crowd and Y/N sent him off from his dressing room always looking fabulous. Just as he was about to walk back on stage for his final farewell, Y/N noticed a tiny string on his trousers zipper. Unable to stop Harry and unable to grab at the string without looking odd, she had to let him walk on stage with it. It wasn’t actually a big deal, but Y/N sighed in annoyance because she knew that string was going to bug her for the rest of the night.

“Treat People With Kindness!” Harry finishes off his farewell.

Applause begins to sound and the cast is out front hugging and chatting, while Y/N is watching from the side still fixated on the string on Harry’s pants, now simply dangling. Finally, they begin to clear the stage because it’s time for the after party. Y/N knew there was no stealing Harry away to fix the problem that was now fixated in her mind. Every cast and crew member was trying to talk to him, congratulating him, hugging him, anything to spend time with the incredible man. Y/N couldn’t blame them, but she also wanted to be able to go some place quiet and debrief with Harry about his outfits. She wanted to look up what people were saying about his clothes and discuss the critiques with Harry. She also wanted to start discussing what was coming next with Harry. But most of all, she just wanted to hang out with Harry.

What Y/N wanted wasn’t going to happen anytime soon, which she knew, but it still only grew her annoyance with that string. If only she could get it off of him, maybe then her mind would be able to relax a little.

She meandered backstage, resigned she wouldn’t be talking to Harry for a while. There she went to find the band’s dressing room, knowing she would find Mitch or Sarah who she’d be happy to talk to. They weren’t ones for the spotlight and no one ever really seemed to want to brownnose with them at events like this. Y/N had met them a few times.

The first was when Harry had asked Y/N to meet him in the studio in mid July, Mitch and Sarah had both been there helping Harry finish up something for the album. Y/N never asked what, she liked music quite a bit, but when it came to the technical part of it, it went completely over her head. Harry had introduced them both and they seemed lovely. After that, she had seen them around for an event or two of Harry’s. It wasn’t much, but it was more than any of the other people around right now.

Just as she was about to knock on the door it swung open, revealing Harry’s entire backing band. “Hey,” Y/N said sheepishly, “Harry’s being fawned over by the masses and I don’t actually know anyone else here. Is it alright if I hang out with you all at this after party? I doubt there’s going to be anyone really dying to meet the stylist.”

She smoothed her own clothes as she spoke. Y/N wanted to look professional tonight because sometimes when she was dressed in more fun or “young” clothes she got mistaken for someone who had snuck in. The only thing that got people to not question her authority to be where she was, was a card that read ‘staff’ that she would clip onto whatever she was wearing at places like this. Tonight, she chose a pair of purple plaid pants, a sleek lilac tank underneath a cream knit shawl, and cream Gucci mules. Ever since Harry took an interest in Y/N’s pearl necklace, she had largely stopped wearing hers because she hoped never to be photographed matching with him. However, she had known the pearls would have completed the look, even putting them on in her hotel room, twisting a pearl in her hand as she looked in the mirror, and then taking the necklace off again and settling on a different silver necklace instead. The ‘staff’ card was clipped to her pants pocket tonight.

“Of course!” Sarah said as the band began to file out of the room, “You might want to take your tag off now, though, you’re done working for the night.”

Her laughter rang sweetly through Y/N’s ears and she smiled back before removing her identifying card. She hated the piece of plastic and was glad to take it off, it never went with her outfits, but she had gotten tired of taking out her business card every time someone asked what she was doing. Y/N was sure that during the tour she’d be fine without it, but as Harry’s show appearances were beginning to ramp up she knew it would be helpful to have.

“Thanks...you all were amazing out there tonight. Second time on the SNL stage right?”

The group of you began to walk in the direction of where the after party was being held. Mitch piped up, “Thanks. Yeah, I love their box stage setup, it’s pretty cool.” Y/N was happy that she had people who were easy to talk to so that she wouldn’t be alone tonight.

Arriving in the room of the party, they were all quick to grab the alcohol that was being provided at the pop up bar. Y/N wasn’t normally a fan of drinking at events like these, mainly because she was not usually invited to this part of the night and when she was she wanted to be alert. But she figured there wasn’t much else to do so she took a hearty sip of the champagne. It was a little sweet, her face scrunched.

“Too sweet?” Mitch questioned when he saw Y/N’s face.

“Just a little for my taste.”

“Harry’s not going to be drinking tonight then. So particular about his alcohol,” Mitch continued.

Y/N laughed, “Well I’m glad, then I don’t have to deal with him being a baby about his hangover tomorrow.”

Mitch quirked an eyebrow at Y/N’s statement. Sarah and the others in the band had dispersed to mingle with the SNL party goers, leaving Mitch and Y/N to their conversation.

Realizing what she said could be seen as slightly weird out of context, Y/N quickly started again, “because I’m supposed to go shopping with Harry tomorrow. He wanted to go to Gucci and a couple other stores here before flying to LA. I’m going back to London until the listening parties, so we need to figure out the finishing touches for those and..” Y/N trailed off trying to remember which looks weren’t completed yet for the next few shows, Mitch waited patiently, “a few of the suits for the Late Late Show. He’s not happy with one of them so we might switch it. But anyway, you know how he is with a hangover. Proper child.”

Mitch threw his head back in laughter at Y/N’s serious look that she gave him. “Yeah, he can be...a lot. I meant to tell you, Harry looked great tonight. All of the clothes were fantastic,” Mitch added.

He was kind and Y/N appreciated him sticking with her. The two of them had rested themselves against a wall near the bar, sipping their champagne and enjoying each other’s company.

“Thank you.”

Mitch opened his mouth to say something else, but Heidi Gardener, another SNL member interrupted.

“Y/N, right!?”

Y/N and Mitch both turn to her, equally taken aback by the sudden burst of energy from this person they didn’t really know. Y/N nodded.

“Oh my gosh! You have to tell me where you got the jacket Harry is wearing!”

Heidi even goes as far to point in Harry’s direction. Y/N knows what she’s talking about, but her eyes still wander to where she pointed. Harry stood in a clump of people, surrounded by Ben Winston, James Corden, and the Gerbers who had all come to watch. She sighed as she watched his eyes shine as he laughed with a smile on his face. She hoped that by now the string had fallen off his pants by now, if not she was going to kick herself later.

“Oh, it’s Bode,” Y/N’s eyes coming back to meet Heidi’s happy face, “but it’s custom made from a vintage blanket. There’s only two that exist.”

Y/N and Mitch watched as Heidi’s face dropped.

“And I’m pretty sure the designer owns the other one,” Y/N added, “Sorry.”

Heidi smiles and jokes, “Know any ways I could possibly get Harry to give me his?”

“He loves that coat. I have no idea what you could possibly do to convince him he didn’t need it anymore.”

“Sex, probably,” Mitch says under his breath.

Heidi doesn’t catch it as she walks back off and Y/N turns to swat him with her free hand.

“What? He always gives away his clothes to girl’s he has crushes on.” Y/N rolls her eyes at Mitch’s words.

“Probably best if you don’t inform the masses about that,” a new voice says.

Unbeknownst to Mitch and Y/N, Harry had broken away from his entourage to steal a few minutes with his two friends, his best friends if he was being honest. They laugh together as he wraps his arms around their shoulders and pulls them both into his chest. Y/N feels the warmth radiating from Harry’s body as she snuggles into his side. Her hand wraps under his jacket and around his waist to squeeze right about his hip bone. His face is gleaming with a small sheen of sweat, but his smile is so big she barely notices his perspiration as he looks down at her.

“Heard you were talkin’ shit?”

Mitch quips, “Us? Never.”

Harry scoffs, “Come off it!”

When he releases Y/N and Mitch from his grasp, Mitch straightens up while Y/N’s eyes immediately go down to Harry’s crotch. She’s not paying attention to their conversation as she tries to make out in the dim light whether the string is gone or not. The men realize she’s not listening and they both follow her gaze.

Confused, Harry asks, “Y/N, any particular reason you’re staring at my dick?”

Her head shoots up, eyes wide and cheeks flushed from embarrassment.

“I wasn’t!”

Mitch laughs and decides he wants another glass of champagne right then, mumbling something about how that was his cue. Harry smiles, knowing she wasn’t doing what he had said, but still intrigued to know what was going on in her mind.

“You had a string right on your zipper and it’s been bugging me since you went out for your outro. This is the first time I’ve seen you on your own and I couldn't exactly go up to you in a random crowd and grab at your crotch. But now I can’t see in this light…” Y/N bit at her lower lip and furrowed her brow still trying to see if the string was there.

“Have you really been thinking about it this whole time?” Harry asked, slightly concerned.

“Yes...I know it doesn’t matter, but I just want your clothes to look perfect.”

Harry takes a deep breath as he makes a small smile at Y/N. Then he brushes over the front of his pants, hoping he removes the string if it's still attached to him. “There, I’m sure it’s gone now. I’m sorry you had to worry about that. Just know everyone I’ve talked to has been raving about the clothes.” He placed his ring-clad hand on Y/N’s upper arm and squeezed it.

“You did an amazing job,” Y/N said.

Harry pulls her into his chest one more time. This time without Mitch so both of Harry’s arms go around her shoulders and both of hers go around his slender waist. Again her hands disappear under his coat and thumb over his warm white t-shirt, her face resting on his chest right next to the word ‘Sex’. His arms tighten around her back as they rest there for a while. Y/N always has to make herself pull away, knowing that Harry will stay there for as long as he can - in anyone’s embrace - and remembering they’re in a public setting, she didn’t want anyone to assume things, even if she had already been made aware that people had.

“We’ll debrief more later tonight, yeah? The champagne is terrible so I won’t be drinking,” Harry said.

Y/N laughed under her breath as she smiled at his words. Mitch and her knew Harry too well. She nodded about getting together later, “Alright. Get back to your fan club.” Harry narrowed her eyes at her words, not sure if she was trying to sound sarcastic or not.

Hey, I’m back at the hotel. Just let me know when you want to debrief :) x

Y/N texted Harry the minute she got back to the hotel, she had no idea if he had left before her or was still at the after party. All she knew was that it was late and she was starting to get tired. Still, it was important for them to talk about their plans for tomorrow and she also really wanted to just be with him alone. Whenever they would debrief after big events Harry and Y/N would laugh at all the outrageous stuff they had seen go on throughout the night.

When she was still a freelance stylist she had helped Harry to plan his Camp outfit at the Met Gala. That night, they never even went to bed and had to debrief about the clothes the next afternoon over tea at the Palace. Both her and Harry were recovering from their exhaustion and nursing equally terrible hangovers. But there they were, sitting in the center of the dining area of the hotel, being served some of the nicest tea and sandwiches Y/N had ever had. It was amazing. Y/N had never felt that rich in her life before and Harry had told her the craziest stories about the most famous people in attendance. It was almost unbelievable what these people would reveal to Harry and Y/N was happy to listen to all of it, promising to never tell anyone else. That outing was probably the first time Harry realized he really liked Y/N and wanted to work more closely with her.

While tonight wasn’t quite as wild as the Met Gala had been, Y/N was still excited to hear any funny stories Harry might have in addition to their clothing talk. They really hadn’t had much time to chat since she had gotten to New York yesterday so it would be nice to just be alone together. Even if Y/N chalked their debriefs up to ‘shop talk’, she was always very excited for them.

As she reached her hotel room door, her phone buzzed with a message from Harry.

I’m still out, but should be heading back soon. Up to you if you want to wait up or we can just debrief in the morning while we shop. x H

Y/N sighed at the message, she wanted to wait up and debrief before tomorrow, if not for alone time with Harry but professionally for being able to plan out their shopping tomorrow. Where Harry was carefree, Y/N was meticulous and planned out. She liked to have fun, but she knew when she had to get her work done, even when Harry was off in his own mind. Their work styles mostly coincided, Harry could be serious and focused, too, but often when he was surrounded by all his famous friends he had a hard time saying ‘no’ to whatever came up. So Y/N knew that Harry’s definition of ‘soon’ could range from actually soon to almost dawn. She really hoped he actually meant soon, so she shot him a text saying:

Just knock on my room and if I open it we can debrief lol x

Harry smiled down at his phone when Y/N’s text came through, slightly chuckling before double tapping and placing a heart reaction of her text. Then he was pulled into the limo that one of his friend’s had gotten them and was handed a flute of champagne.

Back at the hotel, Y/N threw her phone on the bed and decided to change and simply settle in for the night. If Harry made it back, he made it back and if he didn’t she’d wake up well rested.

Maybe thirty minutes into scrolling on her phone, Y/N heard a rough knock on her door. She was actually quite surprised that Harry had indeed been back soon. Rising from her snuggled place in the bed, she shifted around her night clothes and padded to her door. There stood, rather hung, a slightly disheveled Harry. His hair was whipped into disaster, something was smudged on his face, and she noticed a stain on his t-shirt that hadn’t been there the last time she’d been with him.

He slurred her name as he stumbled through the doorway. Y/N closed her eyes and sighed in exasperation. She was in awe that somehow Harry hadn’t gotten off his ass in the past hour and a half.

“What happened to not drinking tonight?”

She walked beside him and helped shove him into a sitting position on her bed. He flapped his arms, chaotically trying to get his plaid jacket off. Throwing her phone in the direction of her pillow, she moved to help Harry with his jacket. After quite a bit of strugglings, Y/N finally got the Bode jacket off of him successfully and threw it onto the nearby chair. Sighing, she settled beside him.

“So, Harry, care to explain?”

“Hi, Y/N…” He swayed slightly, attempting to face Y/N more. She threw out a hand to his shoulder, gripping him tightly to try and steady him.

“We went in this limousine, and they had champagne - good champagne - and I drank a bottle or so pretty quickly.”

“Or so? Oh Harry...I mean you’re free to make your own choices, but I don’t know if this was one of your best.”

“Wasn’t...wasn’t my idea. I was planning on just going back to the hotel. Then James convinced me to come out for a bit. Then the champagne was looking good so I went for it.”

“Like I said, you can make your own choices,” she patted his arm and went to the en suite bathroom to wet a washcloth to clean off his face.

“So, is it champagne on your shirt or am I going to have to go through hell to get the stain out?” She called.

Harry groaned and leaned back on the bed, fingering at the crisp white sheets. “Champagne,” he finally muttered as Y/N reappeared into the dim room, only the outside world and the light in the bathroom lighting this area.

“And on the face?”

She climbed onto the bed and kneeled beside Harry’s prone body, beginning to swipe at the smudge on his face. He tilted his head to face her, bringing the cheek with the dirt to lay facing perfectly up. His jawline showed perfectly and she felt the strength that laid beneath the skin she was washing.

His eyes flitted up to her face, trying to stop the spins he was currently experiencing. He hadn’t thought he was that drunk until he had been required to find his way up to their floor on his own.

“Lipstick?”

She sighed, running the washcloth over his cheek once more, and tried to push the image of some woman (or man who wore lipstick, she guessed) with her lips all over Harry’s face. She didn’t want to know who it was or why it was. It was too hard, especially after the day of people asking her about Harry and her relationship and insinuating things about him and his romantic life. She just liked to keep the words Harry and romance apart as much as possible, it made her life easier that way.

“It was only from-”

“It’s ok, Harry, I don’t need to know who you were…” She stopped herself, not even wanting to say ‘kissing’ or ‘snogging’ or even worse ‘shagging’. Adults were human beings and they could do a lot in an hour and a half. And again, she didn’t want to know.

“You keep doing that. Are you mad at me?”

“I’m sorry?”

“Calling me Harry, not ‘H’. Is it because you’re mad at me?”

“No,” she sighed, shifting to sit more casually, “No, I’m not mad at you. I just wasn’t expecting you to show up at my door like this. I try not to worry about you, but then when you show up like this, it kind of affirms I had reason to be concerned.”

She took a hand and smoothed over Harry’s tousled hair, he rolled his head back to face the ceiling. “Like I said, you’re an adult, capable of making his own decisions. And, I am just your stylist. I’m just glad you made it up here and knocked on my door. Probably would have given someone else a fright.”

He laughed, starting to sober up as the spinning in the room stopped. Her hands on his face and hair were soothing and sobering.

“Thank you for caring about me, love. And going beyond being just my stylist, you’re my friend Y/N.”

His eyes flickered shut and Y/N stared at his soothed features. His words were still slurred and she was sure the use of love was just his britishness slipping through his drunken state. The part about being more than a stylist, she tried to push it away, telling herself not to read more into it than her heart would like to. Even though he said she was a friend as well as a stylist and not anything more, it still sent so much joy through her body. He didn’t just see her as a work colleague and he had said it. But in his inebriated state, Y/N didn’t want to take everything he said as gospel.

She moved him up the bed with a little bit of his sleepy self’s help into a more comfortable position. It was pretty late now and she wasn’t going to kick him out. It would have been rude and unkind and that were two things Y/N rarely was. She went and grabbed the extra blanket from the cabinet and draped it over Harry’s large body for extra warmth since he refused to get under the covers. She also slipped off his boots and stained shirt per his request before getting into the other side of the bed and falling asleep.

She awoke to a shifting body beside her and she sat up confused as to who it could be. Quickly, Harry showing up drunk at her door came flooding back and she turned to look at the groaning Harry beside her. His arm was thrown over his face as he moaned, just waking up as well and experiencing the first bits of his hangover. This was going to be a long day.

“Hullo,” his voice was especially low, groggy and hoarse from the night before. He peaked over at her from behind the crook of his elbow. His eyelids barely open and his eyelashes weighing them down so much so that she could barely see his sleepy jade eyes.

“Good morning, H. Have a nice rest?” Y/N sat up and began to ready herself for the day, rummaging through her suitcase for an outfit and moving about the room.

Harry’s arms went to his sides as he worked to sit up, eyes following her figure as she moved around, seemingly not groggy very much unlike him. “Erm...I’m sorry for showing up pissed.”

“S’fine, H. Just glad you didn’t end up in a ditch or someone’s bed - someone’s that you might regret…” She barely regards him, throwing a single glance his way before shuffling to the bathroom to change. She knows they’ll be photographed today, it’s almost inevitable right now. Everyone knows Harry is in New York and people are buzzing to see him after his performance last night. She slips on the 70s inspired dress, the v-neck and long sleeves settling perfectly on her frame, it hugs her curves and lands around mid-thigh. Rolling on the bold mustard yellow tights and strapping up the brown leather mary jane heels, she looks herself over in the mirror. She then tries to tame her hair and do the rest of her routine, knowing she needed to get on with the day, shopping first and flying home second. Making sure Harry was okay was also on that list, but she couldn’t pretend like she wasn’t a little disappointed in him after last night.

When she returns, Harry is sitting with his legs hanging off the edge of the bed, head hanging as he’s hunched over himself. “C’mon, you gotta get going, kid. Lots to do today.” She’s pacing over to Harry’s deflated figure to pick him up and prompt him to get moving. When she arrives by his side his head lifts and his now more awake eyes stare up at her.

“I’m sorry for yesterday, really. I mean it.”

“I told you already. It’s fine.”

“It’s not - or it wasn’t. You called me ‘Harry’ last night. I don’t think I’ve heard you call me that to my face since we started working together. I took your answer last night because I was swimming in it, but now, thinking about it. I know you were upset.”

She huffs, taking a seat beside Harry on the bed, choosing to not look at him, slightly confused why she had been so upset and why he was pushing it. “Ok, yeah I was annoyed, but I was also genuinely worried. I didn’t know you could physically get that drunk in that small amount of time. And then you show up at my door with somebody else’s…” Y/N falters, catching her slip up and deciding to fix her gaze on her shoes and their intricate design built into the leather.

“You’re upset that I had lipstick on me?” He’s trying to meet Y/N’s gaze, but her eyes are really interested in her shoes. His tone is confused, he’s trying to understand what’s going on in her mind.

She scoffs, risking a glance to Harry but then returns quickly back to her dress this time. “Please...it was just inconvenient for me, okay? Thought we were going to debrief and stayed up late for you. Then I had to take care of you after you hung out with your famous pals and I had barely even seen you all day. Felt a bit used.”

Harry shifted in the bed, turning to face her by tucking one leg beneath him. He places a hand on hers that was placed on the end of her dress. Her eyes finally meet with his and she feels her breath slightly catch in her throat. His eyes are piercing, his gaze intense, maybe even a tinge of anger. “Y/N, I would never have come to your room if I even had an inkling that this would be how you’d interpret it . Even though I was drunk, I wanted to see you, that’s why I came up here, because I wanted to be with my friend, one of my best friends, not because I just needed some pushover to care for me.”

She sighs, feeling icky still about the whole situation. She sometimes found herself in fights that she never intended, she wished she hadn’t said anything at all. But she also knew that wasn’t healthy either. Flipping her hand, she intertwines her fingers with Harry’s and smiles for the first time that morning. His expression softens at it. “Look, I’m sorry too, H. It honestly wasn’t that big of a deal, but I appreciate that you’re such a great guy and boss to want to truly apologize and make sure I’m comfortable and happy… Oh, and I promise I’ll never call you anything but H from here on out - unless you tell me otherwise.”

He cackles unabashedly at her words, before suddenly clutching at his temple with his free hand. “Fuckin’ hangover,” he mumbles. She smiles and stands up, beginning to throw his shirt and shoes from the end of the bed at him, “You need to get ready. Go pop some advil or whatever. My flights at 5 so we haven’t got all day, H.”

“There she is,” Harry grins, beginning to put back on the stained ‘Sex’ shirt.

As he hustles out of the room, shoes in hand, she calls to him one last request, “When you’re in fresh clothes make sure you bring me that stained shirt. Gonna have to spot clean it when I’m back in London!”

“Of course! And we’ll debrief as we shop, yeah?”

“Yes!”

The two of them were shouting to each other as the door continued to close on them. Chuckling to herself, she begins to pack up her room, knowing she had to check out before they left. Her spirits already lifted, she doesn’t even notice as she throws Harry’s forgotten Bode jacket into her suitcase with some other items that had been on her chair. She wouldn’t notice it until she was back in London unpacking from the trip.

Shutting the case, she springs back up from her crouched position and walks to look in the full length mirror again. Her fingers run the length of her dress, leafing over the slightly darker brown embroidered flowers that were woven into the tan fabric. She squints as she turns sideways and pops a heel up behind her. It looks good, but something is missing. Rummaging through her carry-on she pulls out her old butterfly bandana she used as a head scarf and begins to fix it into place on her head. Placing large sunglasses on the bridge of her nose, she feels like the look is complete and gives herself some poses in the mirror; a peace sign, an air kiss, a Marilyn Monroe. She laughs at herself.

A knock on the door shakes her from her childish fun. Straightening up, Y/N saunters over to the door, swinging it open with ease. “H?”

“You ready?” Harry stands in a fresh pair of Marni trousers paired with a striped orange and mauve Marni sweater. He, like Y/N, had this thing about wearing the brand you planned to shop at. He didn’t always stick to his rule, but he usually didn’t like to wear Gucci when he shopped at Gucci.

“Yeah, just need to check out and drop my baggage at the front to be held for later.” Y/N slips through the door and notes how his outfit compliments hers. She wouldn’t mention it, but it's something to think about since he had known what she was wearing. She wasn’t sure why she noticed things like that, if asked, her answer would probably be that it was the stylist in her, just her job.

Stepping out of a black town car on the side street next to Gucci to go in the side entrance would never get old for Y/N. She had never really enjoyed the idea of fame, but from a young age she had known she wanted to be able to afford the finer things in life. Going into the Gucci store now, especially with Harry, was like going to the candy store once you’re a grown up and can buy whatever you want rather than what your parents will allow you to.

Today, Harry and Y/N didn’t have as much time as they would usually like to spend in the store, but they were just happy to be doing what they loved. Y/N had been ecstatic to find out Harry found shopping to be an essential part of his life and that he liked to do his outfit shopping in person rather than online. Trying on clothes and picking out things you liked just was so much more fulfilling when you were in the physical store. Then make that all happen with Harry Styles as the buyer, then it was a real party. The stores liked to pull out their Champagne and clear the store to allow him privacy, specifically when it was for clothes for projects under wraps. In the beginning of her employment, it was only ever Harry who would do the trying on of clothes, but as the two of them got acquainted and comfortable with each other, she found herself trying things Harry would pick out for her. At first, she would veto some items saying they were too expensive for her, but eventually she learned that her new salary covered whatever it was. She had always enjoyed designer labels and choosing to be a stylist meant she had nice clothes, but only working for Harry had caused her closet to double in size and triple in value.

“So we are looking for some trousers today,” she tells the worker at the store, reminding them of what she had already called ahead about. The employee nods and proceeds to lead them into the room where they had laid out an assortment of pants for Harry to pick from.

“What do you think of these?” Harry walks out and strikes a pose, popping one of his hips to the side and his hands on his hips. The pants strain around his thighs, but fit practically perfectly everywhere else. His slim waist is perfectly encircled by the fabric and he’s decided the sweater he was wearing didn’t match them and he’d rather go shirtless. This choice technically should allow her to solely focus on the pants, but it actually makes her focus that much more diverted. She makes a spinning motion with her pointer finger as she purses her lips. He takes a quick spin and the boot cut slightly flares with his movement. The pants are a dark brown with a single plaid crossing in a lighter brown. They are only lightly flared, which she prefered to the extreme flare that some of Harry’s suits had. She narrows her eyes at the pants to keep her gaze from shifting to the taut muscles of Harry’s arms and torso or the dark ink that licked over his skin in the beautiful designs of his choice.

“They’re nice,” she pulls up a picture of the top part of the outfit he was planning on wearing, “Do you think they match with this though?” Harry walks over to her seated position and bends to look at her phone. His skin radiates heat and the smell of his cologne and she sniffles slightly with her sensitive nose. His eyes flicker to her face when he notices her little noise, but returns to looking at the phone when she doesn’t spare him a glance. She felt his gaze on her, but couldn’t bring herself to look from the phone. She knew his proximity would make it even harder for her to keep her eyes off his naked torso. The expensive smell of Harry mixed with the expensive smell of the store was a lot to handle.

“Yeah...no. You think they’re not right,” she widens her eyes at Harry’s words when he pulls away. He turns to the mirror in the open dressing room and fiddles with the waistline of the pants. “I agree,” he finishes before stalking back into the room and shutting the heavy velvet curtain that worked as the door to it.

He tries on five more pairs of trousers and finally settles on two pairs for the two different listening parties. A heavier, wool-tweed pair that was dark brown and then a lighter brown tweed pair. He was still in the lighter pants as he stared into the mirror. He beckoned to Y/N, and she quickly set down the flute of Champagne she had been sipping at lazily as he admired himself.

“Is it possible for you to take it in a bit more,” he says in a hushed tone to her, not wanting the workers to overhear. They were helpful but if they overheard they would wait for the store to tailor the trousers and he preferred for Y/N to do it. He rubs at the waistline again and she moves closer, her hands going to his sides. Her fingertips graze the naked skin above the trousers and Harry shivers at the coldness of the new touch. She ghosts softly over the waistline herself and smooths the fabric until she’s pinching a small amount on each side. She hums, pulling back from Harry and looking at the fit of them now, examining whether that makes them look better.

Then she nods and smiles up at Harry, “Ever the slender waist,” he grins right back as she admires him. She knew how much he liked praise and she was happy to give it to him, especially when he was so deserving. “I’d say size down, but then your thighs and bum might strain the fabric too much.” His face turns to a smirk as she blushes at her words. She releases the fabric and takes a hand to pat Harry’s smooth chest before walking back to her seat on the lovely couch.

“You sure you don’t want to try anything on, Y/N? Saw some killer boots when we walked in that screamed you.” Harry calls from behind the curtain, presumably getting redressed. Her laugh comes through the curtain slightly muffled, yet still a sweet melody in Harry’s ears.

“Definitely not now, we’re leaving any minute. Plus, I’ve got plenty of Gucci boots, don’t even show me them or I’ll be tempted.”

His laughter rings through the curtains, loud and unrestrained. She smiles to herself, unable to discourage the pleasure that weaves through her at the sound. His presence in all the different ways she experienced it was instantly comforting.

When she arrives back to her London flat, she practically flops on her couch once she’s inside the door. Her luggage forgotten at the door, as she shrugs off her coat. It was around 7 am because she had chosen to take the red eye for some reason. She groaned as she thought about the day ahead of her. Even though Harry was halfway across the globe, she still had plenty of work to do. She had to finalize the outfits for the listening parties now that they had the pants to complete the looks. Then she had to start thinking about Harry’s December appearances. She had sent ahead his Late Late outfits that he had needed in Los Angeles for the pre-filming, but she still had to deal with the outfits for the live part of the show.

Today, she was set to go pick up the other pieces needed for the listening parties as well as items for the Graham Norton Show and Jingle Ball. She was most excited for her travels because that meant looking at brand new clothes that were perfect and gorgeous. She also knew she needed to spot clean Harry’s shirt, which didn’t spark as much joy in her tired mind.

The idea of the shirt staining with alcohol was what brought her out of her snuggling with her comfy couch. Sure, it couldn’t get that bad, but still she was a worrier and it would pain her if the iconic shirt got ruined. She padded back over to her luggage, now without her jacket or shoes. Her major suitcase got flipped on its side and she began to unzip it. It came open easily seeing as it was stuffed with her clothes and various items. She had to rummage a minute for Harry’s shirt that seemed to have run away inside the bag. Finally, the large white shirt made itself known and she grasped it happily.

As she looked over the stain near the collar of the shirt, her eyes traveled to a piece of fabric peeking out of her suitcase. It was a familiar blue, cream and white. A specific fabric she would never misplace, would never not recognize. Harry’s plaid Bode jacket. It was iconic and she loved it, but why did she have it in her suitcase. She definitely didn’t mean to have it, it’s genuinely just one of Harry’s jackets so it wouldn’t make sense for her to bring it back with the show's wardrobe. She tries to think back to yesterday, when she was still in New York. Thinking about why she would have it, she places the memories of Harry coming to her room, taking off his coat, and accidentally leaving it in her room all fit together. She must have just absentmindedly placed it in her suitcase without even realizing. She’s sure Harry wouldn’t mind, she’d shoot him a text, though, to tell him she had it. So he wouldn’t worry about whether he’d lost it or not.

When she gets ready for the day, she finds herself being drawn to blue and cream. Her outfit is understated and she just knows the jacket would finish the look. She loved that jacket and now that she had it, would it be a big deal if she wore it out. She figured it was fine. After she grabbed her purse, keys, and other essentials, she slipped on the coat. Harry was very broad shouldered and it hung oversized on her. She loved the look and snapped a selfie in the mirror before she headed out. While it felt a little narcissistic to constantly take photos of herself, she felt like as a stylist it was important to document her looks just as much as she documented her clients.

What she didn’t think about is just how much the rest of the world liked to document her client and those who were seen with her client. She didn’t think about how she had just been seen with Harry yesterday. That thought didn’t even cross her mind as she walked around the streets of London picking up her work. As she saw some photographers out and about (whom she assumed were for famous celebrities, not her). How it might seem with her wearing the Bode jacket Harry had worn on SNL two nights ago. The Bode jacket that there were only two of.

None of it crossed her mind. Not until it was the end of the day and she had a whole slew of texts from Harry’s manager. A few from Harry, and others but the other fifteen were solely from Jeff. She was a bad texter so as she walked into her flat and finally looked at her phone after putting down all of her garment bags her eyes went wide.

Please tell me you’re not out in London right now!

What are you wearing??

That cannot be Harry’s jacket Y/N

Seriously?

Please call me.

CALL ME. NOW.

- All from Jeff.

She grimaced. The others from her friends including Harry would have to be ignored right now. Even if Harry was her boss, Jeff was who she had to deal with when it came to public appearances and it didn’t seem like she could get around this one. Normally, she never had to deal with him, but it seems today wasn’t normal.

part 2

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charmingwords23 · 3 years ago

Text

Fanfic: Exponential Growth

Teresa hadn’t been expecting her family to grow by two members in one day.

- OR -

Teresa was already pregnant in the finale and I’ll prove it with this fic...

Link

Teresa couldn’t sleep. Each time she would close her eyes and try to relax, something would distract her. The side of the pillow against her cheek wasn’t cold enough, so she’d flipped it. James was too far away, so she’d snuggled closer. Then she was too hot, so she’d shifted away. Her back was aching from lying on it too long, so she’d rolled onto her side. The waves crashing outside the bedroom window were unusually loud - had they always been like that? Maybe they needed noise-reducing drapes. Did those exist? She had tossed and turned so much last night that James had eventually grumbled in his sleep and thrown his arm over her waist in a vain attempt at keeping her still.

By the time the dark of night started to fade to gray, Teresa had tried counting sheep, counting the seconds between the breaking waves, and counting the whiskers between James’s ear and chin (she lost count on that one). When nothing worked, she had mostly just lain with her eyes on the ceiling, mind racing but never settling on a complete thought. So when the clock turned to 5:30 AM and the seagulls outside started to squawk, Teresa gave up and decided she might as well just get up.

Teresa turned her head toward the sleeping man beside her. James was lying on his side, his right arm slung lazily over the bottom of her ribcage so that his fingertips brushed her hip bone. His soft hair flopped over his forehead and jutted out in different directions, in a disarray still from when she had run her fingers though it the night before. She studied the way his dark lashes rested against his cheek and how his lips parted so slightly with his slow, rhythmic breaths that anyone who wasn’t looking wouldn’t even notice.

He always looked so peaceful when he slept.

She didn’t know she could love a person so much. Teresa’s chest felt tight, compressed by the overwhelming urge to draw so close she wouldn’t be able to tell where she ended and he began. She wanted to wrap herself under his skin and tie their souls together.

Instead, she gingerly reached out a hand to smooth her fingers over his brow, careful to keep her touch light as a butterfly wing.

He didn’t stir. With a silent sigh, Teresa carefully withdrew her hand and slid her body out from under his arm. She perched on the edge of the bed and reached for James’s shirt on the floor. She remembered throwing it off of him the night before, and a ghost of a smile formed on her lips. She shrugged into the shirt and stood up, swiping her hand over the back of her neck to free her long curls from the neckline of the shirt.

James groaned quietly behind her, rolled onto his stomach, and ran his hand over the bare sheets that were still warm from her body. “What are you doing?” His voice was low and muffled against the pillow where his face was half-buried.

“I’m going to take a bath,” she whispered, shifting the shirt so that it sat evenly on her shoulders instead of gaping off to one side because of its size.

James grumbled in protest. He grabbed a hold of the edge of the shirt and tugged at it. “Come back to bed,” he mumbled, never opening his eyes.

Teresa shifted around to smile at him and shook her head. “Can’t. Too much to do today.” He huffed and buried his face further in his pillow. Teresa leaned down to kiss his bare shoulder once, then padded across the floor to the adjoining bathroom. She clicked the door shut behind her before turning on the light.

As she drew the bath and added her favorite oils to the water, she drummed her fingers against her thigh - her restless energy increasing. She moved around the bathroom, collecting fresh towels and wash rags to set on the stool next to the tub.

Today was the day.

Finally, after four years, her entire family was going to be together again.

She, James, Kelly Anne, and Kelly Anne’s daughter Lena had lived a quiet, content life together since disappearing from their old lives. They ate meals together, they played in the sun together, and they watched movies together; but no amount of happiness had been able to completely fill the Pote-shaped void in their lives. Since the moment James and Kelly Anne had joined Teresa at the beach, Teresa had felt both a happiness she had never fathomed and a longing for the day when Pote would be reunited with them to make their family whole.

Teresa had teared up when they got the news last month that Pote would be released with time served in the upcoming weeks.

In the present, Teresa dipped a hand into the bathwater to check the temperature. Satisfied that it was hot enough to relax her muscles but cool enough to not cause a sweat, she stirred the water around with her fingers and then shed James’s shirt, letting it fall to its most common resting place: the floor. She dipped her toes into the water, then slowly sunk her body in - letting the warmth caress her skin.

Teresa tried to allow the calming lavender scent she had added to the water relax her. She began massaging her skin with her favorite scrub and making a mental list of what she needed to do today to get ready for Pote’s homecoming.

She would need to refresh the sheets in Kelly Anne’s room so Pote would have a nice, fresh bed to sleep in. Kelly Anne had already washed the small starter-collection of clothes they’d purchased for Pote, so that was done at least. She wondered if she should ask James to go into town to buy a couple of bottles of Pote’s favorite Mexican whiskey? Teresa had already prepped the meat for the soup she would make tonight - letting it marinate overnight for extra flavor. She did need to bake the bread this morning so the dough would have time to rise this afternoon, but that wouldn’t be too difficult.

Teresa had been making preparations for Pote’s return for over a week, and still she felt the nagging in the back of her mind like she was forgetting something important.

She rinsed her face in the bathwater, then massaged her washrag over her forehead and cheeks.

She had thought of everything, right? She had made his travel arrangements - all at a premium to ensure the highest discretion. Despite Teresa’s mixed feelings on the matter, James had successfully infiltrated the prison and passed off coded travel directions to Pote. Teresa and Kelly Anne had stocked up on Pote’s favorite foods and ingredients, and Teresa had even helped Kelly Anne start compiling a list of potential houses on the island where she and Pote could move with their daughter when Pote was ready. They had started leaving an empty chair at their dinner table and telling Lena it was where her Papi would sit when he arrived home, so she wouldn’t be confused.

Teresa shook her head. No, she was sure she had covered her bases. Pote would be home today and everything was almost ready for his arrival.

When she had scrubbed her skin clean and the water started to turn more tepid than warm, she swam her hand to the bottom to unplug the stopper, then lifted herself from the water. She grabbed her clean towel and patted it against the rivulets of water that trickled down her body. Shaking off as much water as she could, she stepped out of the tub and exchanged her towel for the fluffy white robe hanging on a nearby wall hook.

Teresa made her way to her designated sink at the bathroom vanity and released her hair from where she had tied it up before her bath. The soft strands of curls cascaded over the shoulders and back of her robe. She ran her fingers through it and decided it might need a few spritzes of the leave-in conditioner she kept on hand.

She scanned the vanity top - eyes passing over her most-used lotions, soaps, and moisturizers. Where had she put it? She glanced at James's sink. The only supply he kept out was his hand-soap, and Teresa knew she wouldn’t have put her conditioner in any of the drawers that held his razor, aftershave, nail trimmers, or any of his other things. Her lips pursed together in consternation as she started opening the various vanity drawers and rifling through them.

Not with the nail polish; she would have never put it there.

Not with the extra hand towels.

Not with the cold medication, ibuprofen, and cough drops on hand for the occasional illness.

She opened the largest under-sink drawer and began to root through the little shelves that held her blow dryer, hair straightener, and additional hair and skin products. In her digging, she bumped something onto the floor with her elbow. Teresa huffed and crouched down on her heels to gather up the tampons that were spilling out of their box and onto the floor. She made a mental note that she needed to get more of them soon. She’d been meaning to pick some up but -

Wait.

Teresa froze just as she was setting the little box back under the sink. She blinked a few times, her eyes flitting to the side, trying to recall a memory.

What day was it again?

How long had it been?

She tried to count backwards in her mind and felt an uncomfortable crease forming in her brow.

Wait, wait, wait.

She shut the cabinet door and scrambled to her feet. There was a buzzing in her ear, and she could feel her heart starting to beat against her ribcage. She swung the bathroom door open. James was still lying on his stomach with his face half buried in a pillow. He grimaced at the bright yellow light from the bathroom but didn’t open his eyes. The gray-blue light of dawn filtered through the drapes to illuminate the curves of his exposed back where the sheet had ridden down to his hips.

“James,” she whispered, a hint of urgency in her tone.

“Mmm?”

“What day is it?”

“Wednesday,” he rumbled, his voice heavy with sleep and still muffled by his pillow.

“No,” she prompted, “I mean the date.” She brought her thumb up to her lip and started chewing on her fingernail - still trying to mentally calculate the passage of time. Out here on the beach, everything moved so slowly that Teresa barely ever kept track of the day of the week, much less the day of the month. The only time she ever really checked was when she knew her cycle must be coming up -

James frowned and opened one sleepy eye to glance at her. “The ninth.” Teresa’s gaze drifted down, lost in her counting. “Why?” he prodded, voice thick and lazy.

The answer to the most important math problem she’d done in years - maybe in her whole life - sprung to her mind. It had been 36 days. James must have noticed something in her expression, because he started to shift himself up onto one arm. She swallowed. “No reason,” she whispered in a rush, backing into the bathroom and shutting the door again, resting her back against it for a second. She heard James huff and then settle back into the bed.

She needed to be sure.

She rushed forward to her vanity again and threw open the drawer where she knew she had stocked a few pregnancy tests in the back. Lena’s surprise appearance in Kelly Anne’s life had convinced Teresa to always keep one or two tests on hand. After all, she had always been one to plan for all contingencies.

It turned out she had accumulated three slim boxes. Teresa scanned her eyes over the instructions and then yanked the packages open.

The three minutes between when she set the last used test on the counter top and when she could pick them up to see the results felt like the seconds were wading through quicksand. Teresa sat on the edge of the bathtub and stared off into space.

Her mind went back to a handful of weeks ago when she and James had watched from a short distance on the beach as Kelly Anne told Lena about her Papi and how he would be coming home soon. The words had tumbled out of her mouth before she’d even really registered them. I think I want that. James had assessed her, surprise and something else clear on his face.

“A kid?” he’d asked. She’d nodded. He’d grinned and pulled her into his side, planting a kiss on the top of her head.

They hadn’t been trying, technically. But they also hadn’t been not trying.

When her birth control pills had run out shortly after that, she had just stopped refilling them. When the moment had come each time they had sex the last few weeks, they’d just skipped the condom. They weren’t in a rush, but they weren’t preventing anything anymore either.

She always thought it would take longer.

James was going to be so smug.

When the three minutes had passed and it was time to look at her results, Teresa already knew in her heart what the tests would say. She stood, ignoring the slight tremor in her hand, and took the two steps to the vanity where the tests were laid out.

Two lines.

A plus sign.

Pregnant.

Teresa sucked in a breath and backed up to sit on the edge of the tub again. Her eyes pointed toward the bathroom door, unfocused, and her hand drifted absently to press against her stomach. A baby. A new life to love and be responsible for. Old Teresa rarely let herself dream of the possibility, but here in her new life, she was starting to get used to dreams becoming reality.

She was going to be a mother.

A soft knock rapped against the door.

“Teresa?” James’s voice was gravelly, like he’d just climbed his way out of a deep slumber and his voice wasn’t ready to forfeit the sleep yet. Teresa wasn’t prepared to say anything, so she didn’t. Her mind was too distracted by a barrage of images: tiny toes, teddy bears, lullabies, pink lips and soft eyelashes.

She heard the door click open and saw James stepping inside while scratching a hand over his bare stomach where the elastic of his sweatpants hung low on his hips. His hair looked like a charming mess, and he squinted his eyes against the light. Her vision was starting to smear around the edges. Somewhere in the depths of her mind she realized the blurriness was a side effect of gathering tears.

“Teresa, what -” She could feel the moment James’s eyes landed on her, and even through her blurry vision she could see him stop his movements. His voice was awake and demanding in the next heartbeat. “Are you ok? What’s going on?”

She blinked rapidly and lifted her eyes to his face. Her chest was starting to burn with something that even after four years, she was only just starting to recognize: joy.

His brow was furrowed and his lips were turned down at the corners. She supposed she’d be worried too if she walked into the bathroom and saw him crying in a robe on the edge of the bathtub. He crossed the distance between them and crouched in front of her. His hand automatically reached up to press the back of his palm against her forehead. “Hey,” he breathed, searching her eyes. “Are you feeling ok? What’s wrong?”

She planted her hands on the sides of his neck, his bare skin warming her palms. Her own lips wobbled into some semblance of a smile. “Nothing,” she exhaled. “We -” she cleared her throat and jutted her chin toward the vanity. “Look.”

James stared at her for a beat, confusion written on his brows. He stood and stepped away from her grasp. She watched his eyes connect with what was on the sink and stop moving. He spun back around to face her, his eyes wide and his mouth dropping open slightly. She laughed then and clasped her hands together over her heart, the elation that had been bubbling in her lungs spilling over to the surface. “Teresa,” he murmured, turning to the sink again and stepping closer. His eyes scanned through the tests, and his hand reached out as if to grab one of them, but he pulled it back.

He spun to face her again, taking steps toward her as if in a trance. She felt his eyes boring into her face. “You’re pregnant?” His voice was soft, like the words were a prayer.

Teresa bit her lip, but even that couldn’t hinder the corners from turning up in a smile. James laughed and ran a hand through his hair, his eyes bright. In a moment, he was crouching in front of her again, his palms smoothing up her neck and his fingers cradling the back of her head. “You’re serious?”

Teresa bent her elbows to grab onto his forearms below his wrists. “Yes,” she confirmed, her voice sounding light and breathless.

His answering grin matched her own. He leaned forward and rested his forehead against hers, then kissed her nose and pulled back enough to meet her eyes again. “How do you feel?”

Teresa knew he didn’t mean physically. She blinked again, and the tears building up in one of her eyes finally snuck over the edge and onto her cheek. James wiped it away with the pad of his thumb. “Happy,” she admitted, her smile growing.

“Me too,” he confirmed, the emotion in his eyes dancing. Teresa moved one of her hands from his arm to his face, smoothing her thumb over his lips and then brushing his hair back from his face. She hoped their child had his deep brown eyes and soft dark hair.

Teresa leaned forward to capture his lips with her own. By now, kissing James was as familiar as breathing, yet somehow her stomach still turned over when one of his hands fisted in her hair and the other one skimmed down her back to steady her where she still sat on the edge of the tub. She planted one of her hands against his jaw, relishing the tickle of his short beard against her flesh.

His lips against hers were joy. Adoration. Reverence.

“We’re having a baby,” she mumbled against his lips, her own curving against his. When he pulled back a few blissful moments later and grinned at her, she mirrored his expression. He laughed softly and tucked some loose curls behind her ear.

“What?” she wondered aloud, her skin barely able to contain the euphoria bursting forth from deep inside her chest.

James focused on that same strand of curls and ran his fingers down it, his grin turning into a smirk. He met her eyes again. “I just remembered when you said we shouldn’t get our hopes up because it might take me a while.”

Teresa wasn’t sure whether she wanted to pinch his side in rebellion or devour the smirk from his face.

---

The morning and afternoon passed in a flurry of activity preparing for Pote’s arrival. Kelly Anne was a basket of nerves, cleaning and then recleaning every surface in the house - wanting everything to be perfect. James had offered to take Lena swimming after lunch to occupy the little girl, and Kelly Anne had almost cried in appreciation. A few minutes later, James had changed into his swim trunks and had hoisted a cackling Lena onto his shoulders.

He had squeezed Teresa’s hand and thrown her a wink when the pair passed her on their way outside.

It was a miracle that Kelly Anne hadn’t noticed the dreamy smile that had clawed its way onto Teresa’s face, but then again, Kelly Anne had other things on her mind, Teresa supposed.

A few hours later, Teresa decided she needed a break when Kelly Anne asked her opinion on the fifth outfit she had changed into. James and Lena had returned from their swim, and James had headed for the shower while Lena joined her mom and tía in Kelly Anne’s bedroom.

“Is this one too much?” Kelly Anne was babbling. “It’s too much, isn’t it. Ugh, I knew it.”

Kelly Anne started tearing off her most recent tank top despite Teresa’s assurances that it looked great.

“Mommy, when is Papi coming?” Lena whined, kicking her feet over the edge of the bed.

“Soon, baby. Why don’t you go brush your teeth?”

Lena pouted and flopped onto the mattress. “I did that already!”

Kelly Anne barely spared her daughter a glance in the mirror. “Well brush them again, then.”

“But I don’t wanna!” Lena wailed.

Teresa grabbed the little girl’s hand. “It’s ok. I’ll take her outside for a while. We’ll build a sandcastle.”

Kelly Anne nodded at Teresa and mouthed “thank-you.” Teresa nodded at her friend, then let the tiny brunette out of the house.

Kneeling in the sand and watching Lena dig around and build her dream castle, Teresa couldn’t help imagining a few years down the road when she might be doing the same with her old child. Lena prattled on about dragons and moats and princesses, and Teresa humored her - helping her decide on the best place for her drawbridge. Once, James had helped the girl build a sandcastle and had insisted that she place her towers and drawbridges in tactically sound places. Lena had no idea what that meant, so now she constantly asked “Here?” before altering her creation with additional structures. They scoured the beach together for shells to decorate the castle, and Teresa relished the feel of little Lena’s hand in hers.

Not long after, Teresa looked up to see Kelly Anne waving to her from the back porch. Deciding she really did need to run inside and check on her bread before Pote’s arrival, Teresa ruffled Lena’s hair and made her promise to wait right there until her mom got to her. The girl nodded, and Teresa started walking back up the boardwalk toward her house. Kelly Anne gave her arm an appreciative squeeze as they passed one another on the boardwalk.

When Teresa walked into her air conditioned living room, James set his glass of water down on the coffee table and stood up from the couch to meet her.

“Hey,” he’d said casually, reaching out to grab her by the elbow gently. She’d stepped toward him automatically, letting her eyes roam over him. He wore a light button-up shirt with polka dots and the pink shorts with tiny lobsters on them she’d given to him for his birthday. His hair was soft and windswept, despite his shower not long ago. He looked as handsome as ever. She signed, a soft smile blooming on her face. James wrapped his arms around her waist, locking her in place in front of him. “You made sure Lena put the towers in the best strategic places, right?”

She threw her head back and laughed. He watched her with a grin on his lips.

“You doing ok?” he added quietly, a secret smile lighting his eyes.

She reached up and kissed his cheek in response. “Yes. I’m going to check on the bread.” She patted his cheek with her hand, and he turned his face to kiss her fingers before he dropped his arms and let her step away from him.

Only two minutes later, just as Teresa was peeking under the dish towel she had draped over the bread dough while it rose, Lena ran into the kitchen.

“Tía Teresa! Papi is here!”

Eager, Teresa had and made her way to the back door. She could see James hugging Pote just before she stepped out onto the porch. “Welcome home,” she called, her face breaking into a happy smile at seeing her dearest friend again after so long. She approached him and pulled him into a tight hug, the wind tousling her hair.

“Teresita,” he said, crushing her against him.

“Hola,” she breathed with a shaky voice, rubbing his back. She had gotten regular updates on Pote throughout the last 4 years, but having him back home with her was exactly the emotional powderkeg she had expected. Her insides screamed between excitement, guilt, happiness, and regret. The happiness was winning. She pulled in a breath and stepped back from him. “You look good,” she pointed out, keeping her hand on his shoulder.

Pote regarded her with a smile for half a second. “You look different,” he appraised. Something about the twinkle in his eye made her blink. Could he tell? Was she...glowing...or something? She shook her head slightly, her smile basically permanent at this point.

“Four years,” she mused.

“Better late than never,” he assured her. “Your plan worked, Teresita.”

Teresa’s smile turned sad. “I’m sorry you missed so much time with your daughter.” For a moment, she thought about her own child. She had always felt remorse over Pote not being around for the first few years of Lena’s life, but now...the thought of James not being here for their child and how she knew it would tear him apart brought a new level of understanding to the pain.

Pote shook his head and glanced around between the three people standing on the porch with him. “Nah. If something had to go wrong, I’d rather it be on my end.”

“So Teresa’s plan worked,” Kelly Anne supplied, “We’re safe.”

Safe. There were only a few loose ends left, and Teresa needed to know they were tied up. She had to make sure it was all really over. She wouldn’t let her child be born into a world where having Teresa Mendoza as a mother could be a death sentence. So she inquired about Boaz. About Chicho and Marcel. Pote assured her that everything was taken care of. No one suspected she was alive, and there were no past enemies left out there who would come looking anyway.

They were really and truly free.

Teresa could feel James’s eyes on her. She knew he would be thinking the same thing as her. How today their freedom meant even more to them than it did yesterday.

When Pote rubbed his hands together and asked to be shown to the kitchen, the group laughed. Teresa’s brilliant smile bubbled up again. “Actually,” she pointed out, “I’m cooking for you tonight.”

While Kelly Anne explained to Pote some of the biggest changes in their lives, James had pulled Teresa into his side and dropped a kiss onto her forehead. She laid her head on his shoulder and her palm on his chest, letting the familiar beat of his heart drown out the demons that had tried to peek through the crevices of her mind moments ago. The biggest and most consequential change in her and James’s life was something neither of their friends knew about yet. In time, James and Teresa would tell them, but now was not the moment.

At dinner, no one but James seemed to notice that she brought a pitcher of a local, tropical fruit juice to the table instead of the cocktail she had mixed up the day before. Kelly Anne and Pote were too distracted about being together to take in much else, but James had squeezed her hand under the table and given her a conspiratorial smile.

When Pote talked about how happy he was to be eating as a family, Teresa zoned out. If only her past self could see her now, surrounded by her family and preparing to start a little one of her own. She imagined how a year from now there would be a high chair added to the table for family dinners, and she felt her lips tilt up at the corners wistfully. She thought the Old Teresa would be proud of her.

Kelly Anne and Pote were lost in their own conversation. James, the one who always saw through her, squeezed her hand again and asked if she was ok. The knowing glint in his eye made her think maybe he had had the same flash to the future when envisioning how their family dinners were about to change.

“Yeah,” she whispered, content, before leaning forward and connecting her lips to his for just a moment. An “I love you” kiss for no reason other than that, that she loved him and she was happy and she couldn’t stop herself. She caressed his cheek softly before leaning away, and he stared at her in the way that always turned her stomach over. Like he adored her. Like he was in awe of her.

Pressing his lips together to keep his grin at bay, he turned back to the group. “A toast,” he proclaimed, grabbing his glass. Pote and Kelly Anne looked away from one another and grabbed their own glasses. Teresa followed suit. James raised his glass up. “To a new life,” he declared, a sly glance her way.

Cheeky bastard, she thought, fighting to control her smile.

---

That evening, Teresa sat side by side with James on the stairs of their private boardwalk. She was pressed into his shoulder, one hand hugging his bicep and the other held gently between his palms. The wind blew strands of her hair against her neck and cheeks. The late evening sun was starting to begin its descent, but she was snuggled close enough to James that the chill of the sea breeze didn’t bother her.

Together they watched Pote and Kelly Anne play in the waves with their daughter.

Teresa didn’t have to be a mind reader to know that she and James were thinking the same thing. The notion of parenthood had only lived inside of them for about 12 hours, but already she could see it so clearly. How they would hold their child’s hands - one of them on each side - and swing him or her over the tiny incoming waves. How their child would laugh, and play in the sand, and enjoy the feel of the cool sea water on his or her feet.

How together they would move heaven and earth to make sure their child was safe, and happy, and loved every single day.

Teresa looked over at James, and let her smile overtake her.

This will be us, she said without speaking.

She knew he would understand.

His answering smile was one part bashful and one part enamored. She knew with certainty that his dreams of their future matched her own. He rubbed his thumb over her hand that he held, letting his eyes make his promises to her.

She snuggled impossibly closer and leaned her head against his shoulder. “So,” she started, a hint of humor creeping into her voice. “I guess we need to encourage Pote and Kelly Anne to start house hunting sooner rather than later. I wasn’t expecting our family to grow by fifty percent in one day when I bought this house.”

James chuckled and tucked some loose hair behind her ear. “Do they call that exponential growth?”

Teresa buried her nose in his shoulder, inhaling the scent of the sea that now permanently clung to him. “No, you’re thinking of one-hundred fifty percent.”

He started playing with her fingers in his hands. He didn’t look at her this time, but the corners of his mouth turned up. “Yeah? So what’s that, like 3 more kids?” She looked up at him with raised eyebrows. “Give me some time and I’ll make it happen.”

Teresa threw her head back and laughed. When he pulled her in more tightly and pressed his lips against her hairline, she thought exponential growth didn’t sound too bad.

#jeresa #fanfiction #queen of the south #jeresa baby!

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acertainsomeone · 4 years ago

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Trimmers- EdSer OneShot

They were home. To be precise, he had drove her to his apartment upon her insistence. Eda knew that her grandmother will get back to her after the office fiasco , and her first attempt would be lure her Hala into accepting her back in their life. Her mental state wasn’t allowing her to take that much of stress , surprisingly she hasn’t collapsed because otherwise it would’ve been quite embarrassing to begin with. The only place she could think of, where she could find peace, and time to think about other things other than Babaanne herself, was his place, or more precisely, his presence. He could take her to the mountains or the farthest jungles and Eda won’t complain, for as long as she was with him, nothing mattered.

“You can rest, I have to freshen up for a meeting.” He gestured dubiously. Surprisingly, he had wanted her to be with him, at his place for so long but now when she was finally around, he didn’t know how to react after whatever had happened today . Eda’s grandma arrival did shake him to the core. He had his doubts on Efe but not even in his wildest dreams he had imagined that Eda’s grandmother will enter their lives like a havoc. Serkan hasn’t mentioned it to Eda but he knew a lot of things were going to change between him and her. For good or bad, it wasn’t going to remain same anymore.

Serkan was in his bathroom, clad in a jeans and white vest. He would’ve worn his three piece suit but he felt the need to trim his beard before going out . He still has responsibilities to fulfill , he couldn’t go out like a ragged lover .

“Why did you say that.” He was about to begin when a familiar voice, across the wall stopped him from carrying out the deed.

“Ney?” He questioned Eda, who was standing across the wall , with her arms crossed against her chest.

“In the car. You said that it’s upto me whatever decision I take, you’ll respect it falan falan. You said it won’t be same, and therefore it’s upto me. Whatever it was, why you said so.”

“Come on Eda. I just said that to let you know that whatever your decisions would be in coming days, I’ll respect that. We know your Babaanne isn’t here for casually saying a hi to both of us.”

Eda’s eyes narrowed down , both of them knew what they were talking about. Her Babaanne had made it clear that she’ll get her married to a guy chosen by her, pretty soon. Eda moved forward with a stern expression on her face. Taking the beard trimmer from Serkan’s hand , she uttered slowly, “so you’re giving up on me already?”

“Hayır. As long as you don’t give up on us Eda.” He was about to take the trimmer from her hand when she gestured and shooed away his hand .

“Are you underestimating my feelings for you?” Eda began to cautiously do his beard for him. Her free hand made its way to his chest while the other reluctantly began to set his beard.

“Your confused feelings perhaps?” He chuckled , a bit scared that she’ll cut his skin any moment. Eda didn’t seem to be handy with men’s stuff after all.

“I’m very much clear what I want and whom I want Serkan bolat.” She was staring at him closely, with absolutely no room to breath , she admitted to herself that if he had initiated she wouldn’t have inhibited from going dirty with him in the same bathroom . She was close enough to feel his manhood pressed against her , the bulge was visible enough for her to tell that he wanted her as much as she did.

“It’s done.”

“Wait! You did nothing, my beard still looks the same.”

“Because I like it the way it is Serkan, clean shaven Serkan isn’t for me anyways.” She muttered playfully and exited the bathroom knowing they won’t be able to hold it in anymore, leaving a dumbfounded Serkan behind, who was comprehending the fact that his Eda did love him in beard!

pardon for the mistakes- hopefully you’ll enjoy it

#eda yildiz #serkan bolat #sen çal kapimi #edser #sen cal kapimi #sen çal kapımı #sen cal kapımı #turkishdizi #hande erçel #kerem bürsin #edser fic #fanfic #serkan x eda #eda ve serkan

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one-boring-person · 4 years ago

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Long Day?

Dwayne (The Lost Boys) x reader

Warnings: very vague mention of death (Very vague, though)

Context: The reader works for a grounds maintenance company and has a particularly tiring day at work, leading to a comfortable night-in with Dwayne.

A/N: This is a bit short, but I've had the idea stuck in my head all week, seeing as I do the same job and know how exhausting it can be. On that note, I guess it's also important to mention that any parts of the job that I've included are based off how I'm supposed to do them, as well as my own experience. I hope it is enjoyable! 😁😅 (This is my first Dwayne fic, so please excuse it if the character is a bit off)💛💛

Masterlist

My whole body aches as I finally drag myself into the house, my clothes covered in dirt and grass stains, my skin still covered in sweat after a hard day's work, the steel toe-capped boots on my feet tracking mud into the worn carpet in the hall as I slowly make my way further inside. Yawning, I sling my rucksack to the side, choosing to clear it up later as I kick off my shoes and trail upstairs, glad to be home and able to relax, aiming straight for the bathroom, eager to shower off the reek of plants and petrol from myself. Upon entering, I don't waste time in stripping off my uniform shirt (bearing the gaudy logo of the grounds maintenance company I work for) and old jeans, my socks and underwear soon following as I climb into the shower, turning on the cold water initially, my body still heated from spending close to eight hours in the blazing sun and in need of cooling down. Shivering, I close my eyes for a little while and just allow myself to relax, relishing in the sensation of the cool liquid trickling down my flushed skin, until I finally turn the temperature up in order to properly wash myself off.

Ten minutes later, I step out of the bathroom and dry myself, heading into my bedroom to find some comfortable clothes to wear, intending to spend the evening doing nothing but watching television, preferably with my boyfriend. Finding a loose shirt and a pair of old shorts, I pull them on and go back downstairs, glancing out of the window briefly to check the time of day: the sun is already setting, which means I won't have to wait too long. I go into the the kitchen to grab something to eat, picking up whatever comes to hand and a glass of soda, before heading back into the living room, where I situate myself on the sofa, tucking into the food as I go to switch on the old television, not bothering to change the channel that flickers on, my attention elsewhere. Too soon, the food is finished, my stomach craving more, even though my body can't be bothered to get up and move to get some, an irritated groan leaving my lips at this, my head falling back onto the sofa.

"Long day?" A familiar voice inquires from somewhere behind me, relief and joy replacing the brief moment of annoyance as I quickly roll onto my front, eyes finding the tall vampire in the doorway with ease. Grinning, I somehow manage to scramble over the back of the sofa, running to him as soon as my feet touch the ground again, my arms wrapping around his torso in way of greeting, his own, longer, limbs following suit, crushing me into his bare chest.

"You have no idea." I murmur out to him, resting my chin on his collarbone, before he cups it in one hand, pulling my face to his for a soft kiss. Only too happy to reciprocate, I move my hands up to the sides of his neck, brushing away some of the dark strands of hair that float around his face tenderly, the vampire smiling into the kiss as he feels me do so, pressing me tighter against him.

Breaking apart, we remain pressed together for a little while, just looking at each other happily, until my stomach decides it wants to interrupt, growling loudly in the comfortable silence.

"Hungry?" Dwayne questions me, smirking when I give him a light slap on the chest.

"Very, but I'm too lazy to cook anything, and I haven't got the money to order a takeout again." I inform him, referring to the ridiculous amounts of Chinese food I've eaten in recent weeks thanks to my lack of energy when it comes to preparing food for myself.

"Well then, let's cook something together." The brunette proposes, pulling away from me so he can walk into the kitchen, immediately going to the fridge.

"You can cook?" I ask sceptically; there aren't exactly many places to learn cookery skills in the cave he and his friends call home.

Giving me a look of mock offense, Dwayne proceeds to pull out a variety of ingredients from the fridge, raiding the cupboards for spices and other essentials, gesturing to me to help him.

"Of course I can cook! I'm sure you'll find that I'm not too bad, either." He responds confidently, pulling a knife from the block on the counter, starting to chop some vegetables on the island in the centre of the room, his movements fluid and practised.

"I'm holding you to that." I tease him, joining him at the counter, helping him with the food as much as I can, "No garlic?"

At my words, he stops, looking me dead in the eye with a horribly serious expression on his face, my own matching his.

"You wanna kill me?" He finally responds, a glint in his dark brown eyes.

"Oh, come on! Garlic doesn't kill you, so don't act like a victim here." I laugh, returning to the task at hand.

"No, but that doesn't mean the experience is pleasant." He grins, lifting an eyebrow at me as I recall the last time I accidentally put garlic in some food I let him eat; let's just say it didn't end well.

"True." I shrug, finishing up the vegetables as he goes to get a pan, placing it on the stove and lighting the gas, quickly heating some oil in it.

In no time, we've managed to knock up a decent meal for the two of us to eat, both of us only too happy to finally sit down and enjoy it. Our conversation continues on through the meal, both of us laughing and joking with each other as often as we usually do, though I can feel the fatigue from before starting to creep back into me, the long day of work finally beginning to show its side-effects again. Clearly, the tall brunette notices this, as observant as ever, quickly making sure to bring this up.

"Feeling tired?" He comments as we finish up, standing and taking the dishes to the sink, where he leaves them before coming back over to me, smiling at the yawn that suddenly leaves me.

"Yeah, I think work took a lot out of me today." I confirm, getting up from my seat and going to the fridge, where I know there is some chocolate. I grab it and snap off a bar, offering some to Dwayne, who politely declines as he always does.

"What were you doing?" He inquires, leaning back against the island.

"Hedging. All day." I inform him, frowning as I recall the long, strenuous hours of holding up the heavy hedge trimmers, as well as the tediousness of having to go back over the same hedges with a pair of secateurs to make sure everything is neat.

"Sounds painful." The vampire sympathises, casting a look at my exposed arms, as if trying to see the muscular damage that may well have occurred from lifting weighty machinery all day.

"Damn right it is, but you get used to it." I reassure him, leading the way back into the adjoined living room.

"If you say so."

A low chuckle leaves him as he notices me trying to stifle another yawn, my eyelids now fighting to stay open as I collapse onto the sofa, the vampire soon joining me there his arm wrapped around me as he pulls me into his body. Gratefully, I nuzzle into his cool, bare chest, inhaling the familiar scent of cologne, motor oil and dust, smiling as he starts to rub soothing circles into my back, relaxing into the embrace as much as I can. We remain quiet, his movements slowly lulling me into a lethargic state, my eyelids struggling to stay open as I fight to stay conscious, unwilling to let the night end so soon, knowing we haven't been able to spend too long together tonight, on the scale of things, wishing my human body didn't need to rest as frequently as it does.

"You really should get some sleep, (Y/n), you look exhausted." Dwayne advises softly, brushing some hair from my face as I look up at him, barely able to keep myself from drifting off.

"No, I don't want to waste time with you." I argue, tracing a finger over his muscular chest.

"You're not, I like watching you sleep," He reassures me, flicking me gently when I mutter a quiet creep to him, "You can barely stay awake as it is. Just go to sleep."

Once again, I go to protest, only to stop when I catch sight of the look in his eyes, closing my mouth with a smile, finally nodding at him.

"Fine, but only if we can go to the Boardwalk tomorrow night." I negotiate, smirking at him as he rolls his eyes.

"I'm sure the boys will love that, but sure." He accepts, grinning a little at the sarcastic reference to the other three vampires he lives with, knowing that they hate when I come with him because I always take up his attention. I smile at him again, cuddling into his chest as he holds me closer against him, pressing a kiss against my hairline as he continues the movements of his thumbs on my skin, trying to help me fall asleep. Underneath me, his cold body provides a welcome change from the warm air surrounding us, my muscles relaxing against him as I finally give in to the urges I've been ignoring, closing my eyes and falling into the darkness behind their lids.

#joel schumacher #the lost boys #vampire #david(thelostboys)#paul(the lost boys)#dwayne(the lost boys)#marko(the lost boys)#santa carla #star(the lost boys)#billy wirth #boardwalk

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marvelsdc22 · 4 years ago

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Into The Wild West pt. 5

Intro: Hello, lovelies!! It’s finally the weekend once again!! Here’s the next part for ya!! Enjoy~

Note: Lena tries to help get Kara back to herself, Arthur heads out for another mission, Y/N doesn’t listen to the rules, Y/N and Kara have a moment.

Word Count: 1316

Kara watched as you were brought over to your tent, but she barely registered anything as Lena led her over to their spot that they had chosen earlier and had her sit down “Hey, look at me” Lena said, moving so that Kara was focused on her “What you did out there is something you had to do… I know it wasn’t what you wanted to do, but it needed done” Lena said calmly, looking at Kara and watching as she just stared at her “I killed someone, Lena… A living, breathing person” Kara said softly, tears building in her eyes “I know, but it was you or them, you had no choice” Lena said, reaching over and gently wiping the tears from Kara’s face, only for her to pull her face away, still feeling guilty for killing the man.

After a moment, Lena turned when she heard footsteps “Everything okay over here?” Arthur asked, having seen how shell-shocked Kara had been when she came in “She’s never shot someone before” Lena said, looking at Arthur who nodded and stood there awkwardly, him not the best at these types of situations “How’s Y/N?” Lena asked, looking at him and watching as he glanced back in your direction “She’s gonna be fine, Strauss stitched her up, just needs some rest now” he assured, looking at Lena again who nodded “I can get the girls over here to help if you want?” He suggested, knowing they were much better at situations like this than he was “I got her, just tell Alex not to worry” Lena said, waving Arthur’s offer away “Alright… When you have the time, Dutch wants to talk to y’all” Arthur said, tipping his hat towards her before heading off while Lena turned back to face Kara, who was staring off into space, her willing to do whatever she had to to help her out.

About an hour later, Lena led Kara over to the tree that the men seemed to be gathered around, Kieran being tied to the tree still since they still thought he might be an O’Driscoll “What’s going on?” Lena asked, looking at Arthur who was watching the whole thing go down as Bill acted like he was about to cut Kieran’s balls off with the hot trimmers “Trying to get answers” Arthur said, smirking when Kieran started spilling everything he knew “I’ll take you” Kieran said, causing everyone to kind of stare at one another since they weren’t sure if they could trust him “I got this, Dutch” Arthur said, cutting the ropes from Kieran’s wrists before turning to look at Lena and Kara “Make sure Y/N stays resting” he said, knowing you liked to not listen to orders before he headed off with Bill and John, Kieran staggering behind him and Lena turned to look at Kara “Lets go see your sister” she suggested, leading her over to where Alex and Maggie were.

When they got over to them, Alex rushed over and engulfed Kara in a hug “I heard about what happened, you did a good job, you made the right decision” she said, holding Kara close and tightening her grip when she felt Kara start to shake “We’re going to get through this” she promised, pulling back and gently gripping Kara’s arms, giving them a small squeeze as she looked at her and watching Kara give a small nod before allowing Alex to pull her to the others.

xxxxx

When you woke up, you winced as you sat up, letting out a small sigh as you realized you were in a nightgown and for some reason your hair was braided “Must’ve been Mary-Beth” you muttered, slowly swinging your legs over the side of the bed and forcing yourself up, grabbing your jeans and shirt, pulling your jeans on with only slight issues since your shoulder hurt too much to be able to use your left hand, now the shirt? That was a struggle, biting your lip as you tugged it on before buttoning it slowly “Fuck” you breathed, taking a moment to sit down once your shirt was buttoned, the pain a bit too much, but you were stubborn.

Once you got your boots pulled on and your holster attached to your hip, you headed out of the tent and looked around, your brother not around which you were glad for since you knew he’d chew you out for being out of bed, as you stepped out of the tent, you saw Sadie sitting by her usual tree, having a conversation with Mary-Beth about one thing or another and you about to head over there when you heard someone call your name, looking over and seeing Alex waving you over, you sighing before heading over to them “What’s going on?” You asked, looking at Alex before looking at Kara who still looked out of it “Not any better?” You asked, looking at the others “She’s still shaken” Lena said, looking at you and then focusing back on Kara “Let me try” you said, giving the others a small look that asked them to leave for a bit.

Finally, it was just the two of you and you sat down on a log across from Kara, sitting there for a moment before you sighed and looked at her “Let me tell you about the first time I killed someone…” You said, knowing this would probably help her in the long run by knowing she wasn’t the only one to have gone through something like this “I was ten… Dutch had just picked Arthur and I up about oh, two years before that, I had shot a gun before, Dutch and Hosea made sure of that, but one of their missions went wrong and one of the enemies followed them back to our camp… They were all already celebrating and drinking… This guy came out of the woods and I tried to let them know, but they were all already out of it… I saw him pull a gun and aim it at Arthur-“ you said, choking up slightly as you thought of it before clearing your throat and focusing on Kara who was giving you her full attention “I didn’t think, I grabbed the gun from Dutch’s holster, aimed and shot… He was dead before he even hit the ground” you said, looking at her and taking a moment to regain your bearings once more “They all praised me and said I was one of them now, but I couldn’t stop thinking about how I killed someone… It took me months to get over it until I had to kill someone else who was trying to kill Hosea, I realized then that it was all protection… It was them or my family, I chose them and decided to protect my family” you said, looking at her and watching as she blinked a few times.

“What I’m trying to say is, you shot that guy today to protect yourself, you reacted on instinct… What you did wasn’t a bad thing like you keep telling yourself, you did that to protect you, to protect Lena” you said, knowing that Lena had been close by to Kara and you could easily tell there was something sparking between them “Don’t think what you did was a terrible thing, it wasn’t… You didn’t have a choice” you said, looking at her and reaching over, placing a hand on Kara’s shoulder and watching her nod “Thank you” she whispered, looking at you before she pulled you into a hug, making you wince but you accepted it, knowing that just talking to her wouldn’t fix her thoughts overnight but it would help in the long run, neither of you noticing the stares you got from a certain raven-haired woman and a certain blonde, although if looks could kill, you’d both be dead where you sat.

Permanent Taglist: @rianncreates / @natasha-danvers / @youngandwildx7 / @hopingforbarnes

Supergirl Taglist: @x-simmons-x / @aznblossom / @stop-drop-and-drumroll / @worlds-in-words

Lena Taglist: @life2-live / @wlw-in-space / @ianarec / @thelonewriter247 / @kalistory-blog

Supercorp Taglist: @everything201197

Into The Wild West Taglist: @xixxiixx

End Note: I hope you guys enjoyed!! If you’d like to be added to a Taglist, shoot me a DM or an Ask!! Have a good day/night!! :)

Requests Open

#lena luthor x kara danvers #lena x kara #supercorp #sadie adler x reader #sadie adler x fem!reader #sadie x reader #lena luthor imagine #kara danvers imagine #sadie adler imagine #dc #red dead redemption x reader #red dead redemption 2 #Into The Wild West

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ficsnroses · 5 years ago

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Getting Dressed - Keanu Reeves x Reader

This is basically fluff (with a hint of *chefs kisses* Keanu tryna get some booty) Enjoy!

Word Count : 2183

Warnings : Major Fluff! Slight NSFW content, nudity??

Requested : No

Summary : Keanu & Y/N help each other get ready for a night out.

Wiping at the now fogged glass mirror with his hand, Keanu sighed lightly, glaring his razors and trimmers on the bathroom counter.

“Babe? Almost done? The mirrors all foggy.” He called out. Keanu and you were in your bedroom’s bathroom, getting ready for an evening out. You were still occupied in the shower a few feet away, while Keanu got ready to trim his beard.

The bedroom window was left slightly ajar, allowing the garden fresh, sweet summer breeze to pirouette through the atmosphere. The smell of summer cherry blossoms lingered so slightly, the drapes moving in steady, ocean like waves. The strong rays of the day are slowly being replaced with a pastel warmth. If you listened closely, you could almost hear the faint melody of the evening crickets, joyfully caroling the end of a sun kissed, August day.

A business associate of Keanu’s was throwing a dinner party. In classic Hollywood fashion, it was a formal affair. Keanu despised having to attend such parties. He was a simple man, who preferred the undemanding company of his close friends. Above all, he preferred solely the company of his best friend, you. His fiancé.

Keanu & you had known each other longer than you had been together. You both attended the same library regularly. Many times, you would see each other browsing the isles, and engage in small talk. Sometimes, you would recommend books to each other, and express your love for literature on the library sofas, basking in the skyline sun, a make shift two person book show and tell unravelling in each other’s serene company. Eventually, after a few months, Keanu had mustered up the courage to ask you out to a coffee date, to talk about things other than books. The rest is history, and here you were today. Engaged, happy, and immensely in love, smitten by each other.

“In a minute!” he heard your dulcet voice chime through the steamy glass door of the shower. Thereafter, he heard your melodious voice resume humming. You had a habit of humming in the shower. Keanu absolutely adored it. Sometimes when you were showering, he found himself cracking the bathroom door open slightly to hear your voice louder. Sometimes, he found himself humming in the shower as well, attributed to you. Little things like that made him remember more and more of how you were such a big part of his life now, how you’d built a home together.

With the clink of the shower off, and your humming conclude, he heard you again. “Hand me the towel, love?”

Keanu grasped the pearly white towel you had set aside and slide the shower door just enough to hand it to you. He caught a glimpse at your bare figure in front of him, skin steaming lightly from the warmth, making you shimmer like the heavens. Your lengthy, lush locks looked alluring as ever, slightly sticking to your wet skin. In his eyes, you were a goddess. A goddess only he had the pleasure of residing in, the chance to luxuriate in the alter of you, only granted to him.

After wrapping the towel around, you stepped out of the shower, prancing to the counter where your lover stood, to apply your moisturizers and face creams. Keanu referred to them as potions, it made you laugh every time. He had a hard time comprehending why you used them; to him, you were the most beautiful thing he had ever laid eyes on. Why would someone like you need that stuff anyway? He was such a boy.

Immediately, you saw Keanu smile as he eyed you up and down. You playfully slapped his arm. “Stop it, Reeves!”

“Can’t help myself, darling.” His husky voice chuckled, snaking his arms around your towel covered waist, gently turning you to lean your back against the granite counter and face him. “Why do we even have to go to this thing anyway?” he questioned, rolling his eyes.

“Because they’re your friends, and they personally asked you to come out twice.” You answer, wrapping your arms around his neck, tapping his nose with your index playfully, finishing with a lingering kiss to his jaw.

Keanu gently lifted you to sit on the counter. “I’d rather we stay here.” He spoke, burying his face in your neck, kissing and nipping at the soft skin. It was still damp from your shower, but the glowy dew you radiated made him unable to keep his hands to himself. He often had trouble not touching you. Whether it was as you made dinner & him being able to sneak up behind you, engulfing you in a hug, as you absentmindedly worked, or as he drove the car with you in the passenger seat, him holding your hand loosely, or resting it on your thigh. It wasn’t necessarily out of lust, most of the time, it was out of pure love. Holding onto something you valued.

You tangled your fingers in his dark brunette mane, closing your eyes, gently tilting your head back to allow him more access. You were a complete sucker for the way he kissed your neck, his soft lips on your skin never failed to send goosebumps cascading down your spine.

However, when he trailed his kisses lower, kissing your collarbone, & his fingers softly peeled the towel down, dancing, pirouetting along your nude thigh, ultimately exposing a hint of your breasts, you lightly pushed him back, giggling.

“Stop it, Ke!” you said, bringing the towel back up to cover your exposed chest, a rosy hue perceptible on your cheeks. He still managed have this effect on you, even after the years of being each others.

“Just a quickie?” he smiled, staring at your lips, toying with the hem of the towel on your thighs.

“Absolutely not! We’re going to get late, I haven’t even started my makeup, and you haven’t even picked out a suit yet.” You declare, pushing him away as you hop off the counter.

“Just a kiss then?” he proposed, taking hold of your hand to prevent you from walking away.

You smiled and walked closer to him, tippy toeing to prop yourself up, and cupped his cheek. You connected your lips with his, and gave him a sweet kiss, as he brought his other hand to rest on the small of your back. Pulling away, you patted his cheek. “There,” you grinned.

He kissed your forehead, and let you walk back into your bedroom, towards the wardrobe.

“What about tonight then? Before bed?” he asked, looking down and slightly kicking the floor. He was incredibly silly sometimes, and you found it kinda cute how he was getting upset over not being allowed to make love to you right then and there.

“Hmmm..I’ll think about it.” You replied, before winking at him.

Keanu chuckled lightly, before trailing behind you. “What are you wearing, babe?” he asked, before looking through his side of the wardrobe, browsing his suits and ties.

“I don’t know, I was thinking a dress but I don’t know which one.” You pondered, tapping your chin.

“What about this one?” Keanu asked, pulling at a black dress you had wore on one of your first dates with him. He took you to the fancier side of town, for dinner and a play.

“I don’t know, I’ve wore this a few times too many, don’t you think?”

“You look damn pretty in it.” He smiled, placing a kiss to your shoulder. He wrapped his arms around your waist again, and leaned his chin on top of your head.

“You think I look pretty in everything, that doesn’t help.” You laughed, placing your hands over his that were wrapped around you.

“I also think you look pretty in nothing..” you heard his silky voice.

“Keanu! What is up with you today?” you slapped his hand, laughing.

“I’m sorry. I just really love you. What about this one?” he pointed to a navy blue bodycon.

“Huh…its kinda cute. Maybe ill just wear this one then.” You say, grabbing hold of the dress to give it a quick iron. “Can you please please please pick out a suit before we get late?” you eye him, turning on your feet to walk out of the wardrobe.

“Black or grey?” he asks you, browsing through his side of the wardrobe.

“You know black on you is my favourite!” you call out from the other side of the room, you were in the process of getting out your garments from your dresser.

Keanu smiled to himself, picking out a black suit. He turned his gaze to his collection of ties. “You picked the navy blue dress, right hun?” you heard him call out.

“Yeah!” you called back. “Why?” you ask, not looking up, focused on the task of ironing your dress.

Keanu picked out a navy blue tie to match your dress. It’s the little things that matter, he often thought to himself. Laying the suit out on your shared bed, Keanu made his way back to the washroom to finish trimming his beard, and fixing up his hair, as you finished up your hair and makeup at your vanity. You both had thrown on some of your favourite jams on the speaker, and casually swayed away to the music while getting ready, occasionally singing and belting some high notes together.

Once finally finished your makeup and hair, you stepped into your dress. Keanu had already thrown on the pants and dress shirt to his suit. He was in the process of buttoning the sleeves, as you padded up to him, turning your back to him.

“Zip me,” you conveyed, pumping on some floral perfume to your wrists and neck as you waited for him.

Keanu happily zipped the dress up your back, finishing with a tender, adoring kiss placed on your exposed back, arranging your hair exactly how you liked it, and had it placed before. He smiled at your gorgeous you looked.

“Thank you!” you chirp, about to walk away to grab your heels, as Keanu stops you in your tracks again by a touch of the wrist. Holding up his tie, he smiles sheepishly.

Keanu knew how to tie a tie. You knew he knows how to tie a tie. He claimed you always tied it better than he could, though. You think it had more to do with him liking the extra 30 seconds he gets to stare at you, and the way your brows furrowed together as you tied it on him.

You sighed, but smiled at the same time. “Come this way,” you tell him, as you grab his arm and lead him towards the bed. You were shorter than he was, so needless to say, you needed a slight boost to properly get enough access to tie a tie on him.

Propping yourself up on the king bed, leaning on your knees, you pull him closer by the shoulder, and start bringing the tie around his neck. Keanu watches as you tuck your hair behind your ear to get a better look, and tilt your head slightly. He keeps his hands secure on your waist as you work, rubbing soothing circles on your tantalizing hips.

“Do we need to take anything? Maybe a bottle from the celler?” you ask, pushing down the collar of his dress shirt over the tie, and perfectly positioning everything in place.

“I think we’re fine.” Keanu responds. “Thank you, darling.” He says, placing a kiss on your neck as a return of the favour.

With your hands still placed on his shoulders, you hop down off the bed, and lace your hand with his, looking up at him. “You’re looking very handsome, Reeves.” You smile. Your eye catches a few of his stray hairs out of place. Tippy toeing up to reach his head, you comb through his hair with your fingers, lightly attempting to soothe down the strays. “Don’t you think you should get a little tiny trim? Just to keep everything a little cleaner and more put together, yenno.” You frown, still combing.

“I thought you like my long hair?” he wonders, snaking his arms around your waist again.

“I do! Just a little trim to clean it up a little.” You reply, tucking one side behind his ear. “There, perfect.” You giggle. “Okay, lets go! We’re just on time.” You say, unwrapping his arms from your waist to grab your heels again.

–

“Can you grab my purse, babe?” you call out to Keanu, while putting an earing on. Keanu walks back out of the wardrobe holding your pencil black heels and a purse.

Throwing on his suit jacket, he watches you finally put the entire outfit together as you slip into your shoes. Dabbing on some woody cologne, he grins your way. “Looking good, darling.”

You grin back. “Technically, I got ready before you. You still don’t have your shoes on.” You smile.

“Is that so, huh?” he chuckles. “Congratulations on being the first one ready. For once.” He smirks.

“Why thank you.” You bow, chuckling. “Meet me downstairs,” you say, before swaying out of the room to the front door, waiting for Keanu as he grabbed the last of his things.

–

Walking down the stairs, placing his wallet in his suit pants, and grabbing the keys, he extends his arm out to you.

“Shall we, my lady?” he grins.

You giggle, hooking your arm with his, and place a kiss on his bicep. Leaning your head against his arm, you feel him kiss the top of your head.

“Wow, I cannot believe I get to show you off to everyone. How did I ever get so god damn lucky?” he smiles, shaking his head, as you both start walking out the door, Keanu placing his hand on the small of your back as you lock the door and walk to the car.

In the rather calming Summer end breeze, the smell of freshly ripened oranges fills the lavender hued California evening air. All seems good in the world, the sun threatening to bid goodnight, the stars whispering, preparing for a shimmery drape to caste over the evening horizon. The golden undertones spilling into the world really brought out the beauty in your lover’s eyes. Everything about him in that moment, this treasure you called yours, so perfect, so right. Yours, all yours.

Reaching behind yourself to grab his hand, you slowly guide it down to your ass, before winking at him. “Keep saying things like that, & you’ll have to help undress me as well tonight.”

You see the apples of his cheeks blush a tinge of rosy pink. “I wont mind.” he smirks, opening the car door for you, thanking the sky, for giving him you.

*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*

Taglist Posted Separately (Ask to be added or removed!) :

#keanu reeves x reader #keanu reeves x you #keanu reeves #keanu reeves fanfic #keanu reeves oneshot #keanu reeves imagine #keanu reeves imagines #keanu reeves fluff #keanu reeves fic #keanu reeves fanfiction #keanu reeves ff #keanu reeves smut #keanu reeves series #keanu reeves x y/n #keanu reeves x oc #john wick oneshot #john wick x reader #john wick x you #john wick imagine

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scapegrace74-blog · 4 years ago

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Saorsa, Chapter 27

A/N Here is the next installment of Saorsa. Jamie finally acknowledges what we knew all along, and Claire takes a bath.

Rather than link to all previously posted chapters, I’ll just direct those of you wanting to catch up on your Saorsa-reading to my AO3 page, where the fic is posted in its entirety.

Thank you to each of you liking and reblogging! It does my little fanfic writer’s heart good.

Shearing sheep hadn’t changed much in two hundred years, Jamie thought as he hefted another startled ewe from the shearing pen and pinned her to the ground with a well-placed knee. Murtagh mentioned that some of the larger farms used a mechanical trimmer, but they both preferred the time-honoured method of metal shears, sharp as daggers. Today was their third day. Jamie’s shoulders and arms were throbbing from the constant effort, but they were almost done.

“Tis good fortune we’re having a bonnie spring,” Murtagh commented as they broke for a drink of fresh water from the well.

“Aye. I need tae be on the road wi’in the week, if I’m tae be back a’fore the bairn arrives.”

“I’m surprised the mistress is allowin’ ye tae go at all, wi’ the way she fusses o’er ye like a wee whelp.”

Jamie’s mouth opened and closed, trying to find words to defend his masculine honour against the truth in the old man’s claim. He caught the twitch of Murtagh’s lips through his heavy beard. He cuffed him on the shoulder, laughing at himself.

“She’s lining ‘er nest, ye ken. I reckon she needs me tae practice upon, a’fore the we’un gets here,” he quipped.

“Oh, aye. I’m sure tha’s it.” Murtagh’s sarcasm was so thick, you could serve it on toast.

Jamie groaned as he lowered himself into the armchair in their bedchamber, trying to reach down to untie his laces and failing miserably.

“Here, let me,” Claire offered, before realizing she couldn’t bend over the growing bulk of her belly.

“We’re a fine pair. I’m too lame and ye’re too big a’bout the middle.”

“Speak for yourself,” his wife retorted as she carefully lowered herself to the floor. She gently eased off each boot, then proceeded to unbutton and draw his trews down as well. He sighed and cupped her jaw as she began to gently knead the bunched muscles of his thighs.

“Careful, Sassenach. Ye wouldna want tae start somethin’ ne’er of us is in fit condition tae finish,” he warned, feeling himself stir despite his bone-deep exhaustion.

“Wouldn’t I?” Warm eyes gleamed up at him. And then, more gently, “Lean back.”

Unsure what was being asked of him, he complied by letting his back fall against the cushions, his long legs stretched on either side of where Claire knelt on the floor. Having never accustomed himself to the modern notion of underclothing, he was naked from the waist down and hardening quickly below the flimsy hem of his linen top.

Leaning forward so that her moist breath seeped between the buttons of his shirt and over the fine hairs of his belly, Claire began to run her hands languorously up and down his legs, reaching higher with each pass.

“Sassenach,” he warned, and then more urgently, “Claire.”

“Shhhh,” she whispered, before her fingertips brushed against his baws.

“Christ!”

“I’ve never done this before,” she murmured, as though speaking to herself. “Tell me if… well… if it doesn’t feel good.”

And before he could wonder what she meant, she was lifting his shirt, exposing his very emphatic endorsement of whatever she was planning. A tentative moist swipe against the head, where it lay aching against his quivering belly, and then a sensation unlike anything he’d ever experienced. It was the humid welcome of her sex combined with the nimble manipulation of her fine-boned hand, and yet so much more than the sum of those parts. A lightning bolt of sensation shot up his spine, lighting the back of his eyeballs with colourful explosions. A senseless groan burst from his lungs.

Between the exertions of shearing and the elaborate logistics of making love to a woman almost eight months with child, it had been nearly a week since he’d last lain with his wife. A lifetime, in the bountiful feast that marked their newborn marriage. He wasn’t certain it would have made much difference, though. Anything that felt this absurdly good was certain to be over soon, lest it kill him with pleasure.

As it was, it was mere minutes after first feeling her mouth around him before he knew the end was nigh.

“A dhia. Sassenach. Mo nighean donn. Christ, please, ye must…”

Whatever pleas he was trying to utter were lost to the onrush of his release, racing from his body with the force of a gale, whipping around to slam his head backwards as he groaned in blissful agony.

When he was next able to focus, Claire was carefully unbuttoning his shirt. She extended her hands so that he could help her to her feet. He rose as well, naked and blushing to the tips of his ears. Whatever had just happened, he felt compelled to apologize, if only he could do so without alluding to the actual event.

“Sassenach…” he began.

“Let’s get you washed up, shall we? It’s been a long day.”

He was still new to the art of reading his wife’s unspoken wishes, but this one was plain enough. She did not want to discuss or debate the propriety of what they’d just done, probably a bit shy herself. They would leave it here in the murky shadows of their bedchamber, where it could visit with the other nameless wonders they’d released inside its walls. He followed her docilely from the room.

One modern amenity Jamie had absolutely no qualms about embracing was indoor plumbing, and the associated boon of having a bath whenever a bath was needed or desired. Claire lit thick-trunked tapers in the washroom, formerly a servant’s room adjacent to the laird’s quarters. Bent over the billows of steam that rose from the gushing copper pipes, she reminded him of a painting of a water nymph he’d seen as a boy, all translucent skin and bonnie curls.

He gingerly lifted his legs over the high-backed tub and grimaced as the water seared his skin.

“Too hot?”

“Nah. Jus’ right.” He extended his hand gallantly, as though assisting a lady from her carriage. “Join me?” he offered, before adding, “If ye dinna think it immoral.”

Something about the scene struck them both as a trifle ridiculous, and they snickered.

Claire slipped her nightgown over her shoulders, letting it puddle around her feet, before carefully stepping into the water, holding onto Jamie for balance.

“Now what?” she challenged, eyebrow raised.

“Now I hold onto ye. Ye and the little one.” They sunk together into the steaming water.

She found a resting spot between his legs, forehead tucked under his jaw. Jamie amused himself by scoping up palmfuls of water and letting them loose to roam across the hills and valleys of her torso. Time slowed, as did the vigilant beating of his heart. The water cooled and one by one the tapers guttered, and still they did not move. It was in those peaceful moments, with nothing but the silky stroke of water, the honey whiff of candle wax and the quiet stirrings of a new life beneath the taut skin of her belly, that he realized he loved her. Not in the demure, fitting way that a man was meant to love his wife. But in a pivotal, essential way that was as integral to him as breathing and as endless as the tides.

“Ye’ll watch o’er her? Make certain she is no’ rebuildin’ the castle nor tilling the fields by hand, or whate’er stubborn notion settles in her hard heid?”

Murtagh had heard this request, or others very similar, every day for the past fortnight. It spoke to his forbearance that he produced his standard response without a flicker of exasperation.

“Aye, lad. I canna promise ye she willna be stubborn, but I’ll see her safe.”

It was the best he could hope for, and the primary reason Murtagh was staying behind at Lallybroch rather than accompanying Jamie on his journey to Galashiels, much to Claire’s vocal displeasure. She only acquiesced when it was agreed that Rupert would join him as far as Edinburgh, ostensibly to visit relatives. Jamie had an opinion on the true reason for Rupert’s sudden interest in leaving the Highlands for the first time, but he wouldn’t be sharing it with Murtagh.

Fourteen bales of wool were loaded carefully into the estate’s hay wagon. Weighing over a tonne, it would take both Clydesdale plow horses to drag the load over two hundred miles to Galashiels, near the border with England. Rupert would drive the wagon while Jamie rode his favourite horse, Donas.

The smoothest, most direct route southward was available to them only after nightfall, when motorized traffic was forbidden on the roadways on account of the blackout. That meant they’d do most of their travelling by night, which posed its own challenges. In addition to a small bag of provisions and spare clothing, Jamie was also armed with a dirk and a pistol, though he longed for the familiar heft of his broad sword.

The whole trip should take two fortnights, a little less than a month. The plan was to leave immediately after Easter, so he could be home by late April with time to spare before the Duke of Sandringham’s visit and Claire’s confinement.

In the early morning hours the day before his departure, Jamie crept out of the castle while everyone was still abed and walked up the hill to his parents’ graves. He was pleased to note that the exertion no longer winded him; that he had regained his previous strength. He owed that to Claire; that and so much more. She had given him back his freedom when he thought he was trapped in amber. Offered him a place to stand when every other foothold was lost. She was his redemption. Saorsa.

He knelt beside the graves, now cleaned of moss with bluebells sprouting between the stones. Resting his forehead against the cool stone, he began to pray. That Claire might be safe. That the bairn be healthy. That his voyage be swift and without peril. And selfishly, that he be the kind of man his parents would be proud of in this strange new world.

#my writing #outlander

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veinereastath · 5 years ago

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lack of time (find some time for me);

Some time ago I wrote in one of the “gush about your OC” asks that Irina trimmed John’s beard once, and I’ve decided to elaborate on the subject, so have this... Thing. Pairing: Deputy (more or less) Irina Carter x John Seed. Warnings: None. Well, just a bit of blood, sexual tension, beard trimming, you know how it goes. :)) Word count: 2629. Sorry for eventual grammar mistakes, English hard mucho very~ ~ John's home, however cozy and quite nicely furnished, was not exactly what suited Irina’s taste. Although she was reassured by the sight of those well-known wooden panels and decorations - including deer skulls and stuffed predators, probably gifts from his oldest brother - she felt jusr overwhelmed by the size of this place. Her heart still belonged to those small cabins in the woods, or even a forest in itself, beautiful despite its dangers.

She was used to spend the night on a tree branch or in small caves. She usually had company in the form of rats, sometimes wolves also appeared, but after a while it ceased to discourage and frighten her. Routine. At some point she realized that animals in the Whitetails became so used to her that they were almost ignorant about her presence.

The ranch was, however, an unusually extensive property, and the only living things around were humans - that bothered her. Irina was used to being among animals, but people always heralded potential problems. The only trusted person - though the term wasn’t really appropriate - was John, but she didn’t feel comfortable enough – not to mention that it would just look weird – to follow him everywhere in order to get rid of the uneasiness.

Not to mention that she shouldn’t really be here, and if any of the guards caught glimpse of her, she would be probably shot on sight. To Joseph’s greatest displeasure, she imagined.

John got used to her visits, unpredictable and random, and they didn’t bother him at this point. Quite the contrary – he liked them, because it was the only chance to get to know her better. Irina was fascinating, but infuriating as well. He hated and loved her at the same time, because he wanted to know every single detail about her past and her mind, but she was only giving him the bare minimum. And though he liked to unveil everything piece by piece, he wasn’t really patient, and after days, weeks and months of playing this game with her, John’s jaws were clenching with more force, and his eyes were more sharp every time she was saying “no”, or just giving him this ominous half-smile of hers.

Irina wasn’t attractive in the typical sense of the word; the longer he looked at her, the more flaws he saw - lips that were rather narrow, a nose that for most of today's society would be considered a bit too big, eyebrows devoid of natural, feminine shape and symmetry. It seemed like she had never cared her appearance like most women – or, should he say, women that he used to know - did, but it was good because it meant she had more serious priorities. Deputy was also thin, but he suspected that being starved by Jacob had the greatest impact in this case. Her breasts were small, and torso in general was even slightly androgynous. Scoliosis did not escape his eyes either.

She had her flaws, but John knew that people were not perfect by nature; and he sometimes scoffed at himself when he realized that he was giving her appearance too much of an insight. It didn’t matter how she looked like.

But there were things he adored in her as well.

A massive scar cutting through her left cheek and distorting the corner of her lips was a fascinating thing – because while it definitely wasn’t something that could be called a jewelry, he was quite close to calling it this way. It was giving those typical, half-smirks of her even more dangerous notes, and in a very weird way seemed to just be destined to be there. John couldn’t even exactly remember how she looked like before the scar incident, and he didn’t really mind. It was unique, and made her look totally different dependable on the light source – when she was sitting by his fireplace, the flames dancing on her features made her look, interestingly, nearly divine; but when he was looking at her in his bunker in a dark room, where only half of her face was visible, he was pretty sure that before his own eyes stood the devil himself. Irina was a mess. Wild mess, indeed; always in a rush, always chasing someone or being chased, but she seemed to truly enjoy it. And even when she was standing right in front of him, covered in blood and with wet clothes sticking to her figure, John saw in her eyes those well-known sparks of excitement, like if she wanted more, more, even though her body was screaming and begging for a rest. She couldn’t live without a fight. Got addicted to it, pretty much like he used to with cocaine and women in the past, and how he got addicted to her. It wasn’t safe, it wasn’t even totally rational, but he didn’t want to fight with it, and allowed the addiction to consume him whole.

“Fuck.” John cursed under his breath, closing his eyes and looking at his hands, standing in front of the mirror. He wanted to start his typical, mourning routine, but his mind had other ideas and wandered somewhere else, somewhere where it definitely shouldn’t be right now.

“Fjandinn.” This made him open his eyes and look in the mirror once again, only to see her leaning on the doorframe. Fjandinn, he repeated in his mind. Considering the way she liked to use this word, he already managed to deduce that it was something close to English “fuck” or “damn”. “Does even something so simple as trimmering your beard makes you go all cogitative?”

He clenched his jaw, but not in fury, rather in an amusement, meeting her eyes in the mirror. She was smirking, it was barely visible, but he saw it. Clever girl. “You’re trespassing, Deputy. Or are you here to arrest me for something? I don’t see a warrant.”

Irina sighed, averting her gaze and trying to focus on untagling a strand of her hair. Covered in blood, he noticed. So, everything seemed to go as usual in her life so far. “Naaah.” She murmured, sighing quietly. “Just trespassing.”

John smiled a bit. The audacity. “Came to steal another bottle of alcohol, I presume?” He asked, his eyes wandering to her slim fingers, fighting doggedly with strands of hair, combined from probably all shades of blonde know to this world. He even saw bits of light brown here and there.

“No.” She seemed pensive, like if trying to say something. Something that required her to be careful. “I was just passing nearby. Thought I would come in and see what’s up.”

Well, that would explain the hesitation, John thought. It was hard for her to admit that she genuinely wanted to see him, because it meant she really cared. Her pride, as always, was standing in her way, but this time she won the battle with herself. He was proud, but now it was his time to keep it to himself.

“Well, as you see, ‘something so simple as trimmering my beard made me go all cogitative’.” He repeated her words from before and she smiled bitterly, but still didn’t look at him. “So I dare to say that I’m well.”

“What were you thinking about?”

Well, he was pretty sure that this question will make it’s appearance, but that didn’t mean he prepared a good response. About you, he wanted to say, but he bit his tongue. They were both prideful, it seemed, too prideful to admit that they have each other in their minds most of the time, one way or another.

“I’m afraid I can’t share these thoughts with you. It’s confidential, you see.” It was his time to send her a half-smile, with a hint of cynicism in it. Irina looked at him in this very moment, and he saw something flash in her brown eyes. Irritation mixed with interest. Oh, he knew that she would give a lot to get her hands on some secrets regarding the Project’s plans for the future. He also knew that this is not going to happen.

“’Confidential’.” She repeated and chuckled darkly. “I’m pretty sure that me and you sleeping with each other once in a month or so is also confidential. Would be such a shame if Joseph and other VIPs of your merry little cult got to know about it.”

He looked at her, sharpness in his blue eyes, but it only seemed to make her happier, because she smiled, and the smile was nearly genuine. Nearly. He turned around, finally, to actually face her, and leaned on the closet. “A-aah. This knife cuts both ways, dove. You’re way too smart not to realize that.”

“Mhhhm.” There it was, the hint of resignation. “You’re no fun, John.”

She rarely spoke his name aloud, and it made him feel something, a burn in his chest, but he decided not to dwell on it. “Of course not; I’m a professional. But there is always time for fun after the work is done.”

The girl hissed at him, but he didn’t miss the mirth in it. “Cheeky bastard, that’s what you are.” And with that she slowly walked over to him, holding the tangled strand of hair in her hand. Now she’s going to change the subject, he thought. “Help me, will ya’?”

He clicked his tongue in amusement but didn’t say anything, gently taking the problematic strand in between his fingers after soaking them in water. “Who lost his life today, hm?”

“Today? No one. The blood is two days old.” The ease with she was able to give such an answer was something that fascinated him. He chuckled shortly, slowly managing to win the fight with her messy hair, then brushing it behind her ear, mildly looking at the scar on the left side of her face. She always seemed to be nonchalant about it, and even now she didn’t flinch – but he knew how to read people, and never missed the ever so slight hint of irritation when his eyes were focusing on her distorted cheek.

“How about a shower, then?” John suggested, doing everything he could right now in order not to wrap his arms around her and hold her tight. He could never figure out why he wanted to do it, it just seemed to be an impulse. Sometimes he just wanted to hold her and don’t let go, sometimes to throw her into his bed and make her forget about everything else in the world. But something in him, the pride, he realized, wasn’t going to allow John to admit just how much he cared. She’s still an enemy, he reminded himself. Oh, but that only makes everything so much more interesting.

“I don’t have a time.” Irina murmured, and it seemed that she was fighting with something in herself as well. Lust or love, he had no idea. “Need a help with…?” She pointed her finger at his beard, just barely touching it with her fingertip. But it was enough to make him gulp.

“Don’t have a time for a shower, but you do have a time for that?” It would sound desperate and needy if he just straightforwardly said ‘yes, feel free to help’, so he absolutely wasn’t going this way.

“Your suggestion about me taking a shower could lead to only one outcome, and for that I indeed don’t have a time.” “And what outcome could it possibly be?” Of course, he just wouldn’t be himself if he wouldn’t start teasing her, and even though his face was stoic, the blue irises of John Seed’s eyes were glistening with obvious answer, the one that he was undoubtedly trying to put in her lips.

But she just shook her head, fighting with a smile trying to form on her face. It also had a second purpose – the hair once again fell loosely on her face, hiding the blush that started to blossom on her cheeks. You started it, she reminded herself, but it didn’t make it any different. “Just… Sit down.”

John literally purred, and she just clenched her jaw. Irina didn’t say anything else because she knew her voice would start to tremble. Her eyes were focused on the floor when he brought the wooden chair closer and sat on it, with his legs spread so she could stand between them. Oh, fuck you, John… Well, at least you’ve got trousers on. She reached her thigh holster – slowly, not to disturb him – and took a knife, getting ready to start. But in this moment those blue eyes of his darkened, and he grimaced.

“What? You didn’t think I will use an electric razor, did you?” Her words were full of amusement and this time she could fight with an ominous smile that appeared on her lips. “Oh, come on, John, I’m from a wilderness. Using something like this would be a true heresy, in my case.”

He huffed in agreement and clicked his tongue again, gently but firmly grasping her leg to make her come closer. He didn’t spread his legs only for her to stand so far away from him, after all. Irina hissed again, but he wasn’t bothered by it. John noticed long ago that she was indeed somehow wild, and half of her mind was spoken in growls, hisses and other sounds.

To his interest, Irina seemed to be experienced in beard trimming - she knew how and where to cut, as if she had done it many times already. It made him frown slightly, and he gave her a questioning look. John didn't have to say anything. You know me, he thought. You know what I mean.

“I used to know a lot of bearded men before.” Was her answer, and his nostrils flared up a little.

“Do I want to pressure this subject, or…?”

“No, I think you don’t.” She cut him off, but not angrily, clearly focused on her work and not interested in small-talk of any kind. He felt her fingertips brushing his chin as she tilted his head higher, his whole throat at her disposal, knife literally kissing the skin on it. “Don’t say anything and try not to swallow right now, unless you want a cut on your Adam’s apple.”

He won’t listen to me, she thought. He won’t fuckin… Yeah, of course he won’t.

John didn’t listen indeed, because he gulped with as much strength as he could possibly muster, while looking her dead in the eye. Irina didn’t say anything, just closed her eyes and sighed. Why did I fell in lo-- Why are you like this…?

A narrow trickle of blood began flowing down his skin, but the bastard didn’t even flinch, just kept staring at her, a silent challenge in his eyes. “I’m bleeding, officer. Could you help me?”

“Poor choice of words, my boy.” He was older then her, but it didn’t matter. “Said to a wrong person, they could be misinterpreted in a very, very bad way.” “That’s why I’m saying them to you. You’re not wrong person, after all.” Or are you? He didn’t have to say it, because she caught the wind of it immediately.

Irina sighed and put her knife away, then painfully slow kissed his neck, tasting his blood on her tongue. His grip on her leg got stronger and she barely stopped a whine that threatened to rise from her throat.

“Come on, Deputy. Don’t be shy.” He murmured into her ear and with one strong pull she was forced to sit in his lap, his right hand immediately clutching to her hair, while left one trailed under her shirt, caressing her spine.

It turned out she had to find some time, after all.

#another chapter of: this looked way better in my head #well #it be like that sometimes #deputy irina carter #john seed #my writing #far cry 5

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falseroar · 6 years ago

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Anniversaries Part 4: A Different Kind of Birthday

((Before we start, here’s a link to Part 3: “Just Like My Japanese Animes!” Did you know that while Can You Wake Up? may have started a year ago yesterday, parts 1-4 take place over so many hours, while parts 5-10 all take place in story on the next day? Which technically means it all happened on the 8th? Did I use that to fudge the anniversaries mentioned here a little?

Yes, I did.))

You woke up slowly the next morning, staring at the wall on the far side of the room for a full minute before you made sense of the unfamiliar bed, the sheets that you didn’t recognize, the decorations that were not your own.

Right, the beach house.

The blanket thrown over you sometime in the night slid off to the floor when you finally made the effort to sit up and yawn, catching as you did so an unfamiliar smell, even for this other house. It took a moment to track it to the clear vase sitting on the nightstand near your bed, and to the single rose it held.

At first glance, it appeared to be almost black, but the bright sunlight streaming in through the window caught the flower’s petals and revealed them to be a dark blue in the center before merging into a deep crimson on the outer layers. Its smell was just as rich and sweet as any other rose and filled your nose as you checked the vase and the nightstand, but there was no note to accompany it.

There were, however, several messages from one Doctor Schneeplestein on your phone, most of them accompanied by videos or photos taken yesterday while you could not see. You smiled and let the videos play in between darting into the bathroom (thankful that there was no waiting or awkward bumping into the others who shared this one with you) and making a somewhat decent effort to look human again after sleeping so hard last night. You laughed out loud more than once as you watched Wilford drag Dark into the ocean or the dancing that went on at Jack’s party the night before, but after a while you noticed just how quiet it was on this floor.

You could barely believe the time when you looked at the clock on your phone, and wondered how you managed to sleep this late in a house with this many loud personalities. After taking one last sniff of the rose and pocketing your phone, you left your room and made for the stairs, sure that the others would give you a hard time for sleeping in.

Except, as you walked down the hall, past silent bedrooms and bathrooms, you couldn’t help but feel a sense of unease. Your steps seemed louder than normal on the stairs, and you already knew that the house was empty even before you reached the bottom.

Not this again, was your first thought. It was bad enough in Mark or the egos’ houses, but being alone in this place that still felt strange and unfamiliar after going on four days set all of your senses on edge.

And you couldn’t shake the feeling that you weren’t alone, despite the silence.

But then it hit you that today was the last day at the beach house. Of course, everyone would be outside, making the most of it.

You were so sure of the idea that you made straight for the back door, but had to pause in the main area of the house. Someone had rearranged the furniture after last night’s party, but what drew your attention was the single balloon in the center of the room. A card at the bottom of its string kept it from floating up to the ceiling, so it just bobbed in place.

Waiting.

From here, you could see your name on the card in bold letters, but you had to move closer and pick it up to read what was written just underneath it:

Surprise.

The moment you read the word, the room erupted into noise as a crowd of people definitely not there a second ago appeared in a burst of magic. Confetti fell from somewhere, and more balloons rained down around the room

“Surprise!”

Followed by first Mark, then Abe and Wilford, then pretty much everyone else pulling you into a hug, all trying to speak at once while three dogs added to the noise and excitement.

“What’s going on?” you asked, once you were finally given the chance to catch your breath and speak.

“It’s been one year, you silly goose!” Wilford said. “That means it’s your birthday!”

“What he means is,” Mark said, “One year ago from yesterday was the first day you left the mirror for good.”

“And one year ago today is when you met most of us egos,” Dr. Iplier added.

Jackieboy Man cleared his throat and gestured to himself and the other Septic egos.

“The important ones, anyways,” Ed Edgar said, ignoring the glares.

“It’s the day I found out my partner was still alive,” Abe said.

“And it’s the first time we ever even heard you talk,” Wade said, gesturing to himself and the rest of Mark’s friends.

“Yeah, and you probably still don’t remember the first time we met you, but we took a vote not to hold it against you,” Bob added.

“The Host reminds Y/N that, for the egos, their ‘birthday’ is the anniversary of their first video. When they are first introduced, and when the fans begin to get to know them. And when they first become a part of our family.”

“One highly dysfunctional, possibly emotionally scarring family,” Mark added before Tyler elbowed him in the ribs. “Ow.”

“It’s only fair to celebrate the day you joined us too,” Bim Trimmer said.

“And has nothing to do with, um, with forgetting your other birthdays at all.” Eric twisted his handkerchief. “Um. Since apparently you have more than one a year and we still missed both, no one’s really explained that…”

Dark decided now was a good time to distract Eric by pushing Henry toward him with his foot, at which point Eric promptly melted and forgot what he was talking about.

You blinked back tears as their words sank in, and nearly lost it when Wilford pulled you in for a side hug and declared, “We wouldn’t want you anywhere else. Happy birthday, Y/N!”

---

The day was far too short, and passed by far too fast.

Still, there was something soothing about returning to your room at the Iplier egos’ house and unpacking your bag in the quiet after everything was over. There were your own clothes of course, but there were also the gifts.

You smiled as you held a Cloak hoodie up.

“Dude! We’ve been over this,” Bob said when you opened Mark’s gift and found the Cloak clothing inside.

“Yeah, giving your own merch as a gift seems a little crappy,” Wade added.

“What? It’s really comfy!” Mark protested.

“Come on, man,” Jack chimed in, even as he slid his present for you underneath the table until later.

You laid out the PMA scarf on the dresser, thinking that while you might not ever need to wear it much around here, it would be nice to have the next time you went to Brighton. Beside it you put out the more normal gifts from the others, such as a video game or two, an enamel pin you had been looking at the other day, and a cap Chase had given you that looked very much like his own but with a loaf of bread in place of the usual logo. There was a page of sheet music from Jameson, with old-timey looking cartoons drawn in the margins and along the staves.

Like a magician pulling out colored scarves, you pulled out one, two, three, four Google shirts from your bag, all paler or darker variations on the usual colors. One of them was bright pink, just like the one you got a year ago.

“We have been told that slightly different variations on a familiar object can come across as comforting,” the blue Google said as you pulled them out of the box. “Otherwise known as the nostalgia factor.”

“What, does this make you an honorary Google now?” Ed Edgar asked, tilting his cowboy hat back as he looked into the box.

Google scowled. “Incorrect on every level as always, Edgar.”

You paused when you pulled the stuffed animal out of your bag. At least, you thought it was some kind of animal, but no one seemed to be able to agree on which one. Guesses so far had ranged from bear, dog, fox, to kangaroo, raven, and the default option for anything strange, platypus.

After time together in the house, several of you had taken the celebration into town, first finding some food and then walking around the streets until you wound up at an arcade where everyone had split up to try and win tickets.

At first, you thought the stuffed creature was an arcade prize when Wilford showed it to you, but there was nothing like it behind the counter. You seriously doubted there was anything like it anywhere.

“This little monster has a special secret just for you,” Wilford said, winking as he handed you the animal of indeterminate species. He grinned as you examined it and found the zipper on the back.

“…Wilford, this is a knife.”

“Because you never know when you’re going to need to administer a good stabbing.” He gave you a reassuring thump on the back and walked away, whistling.

You decided that secret could stay between you, Wilford, and “the little monster” and put the stuffed creature up on your dresser, where it could keep an eye on your entire room. You could only pity the fool who crossed the path of Sir or Lady Yet-to-be-Named.

As you rummaged through the pockets of your bag, you thought you had come across some unspent arcade tickets until you pulled out the stack of laminated cards. Each of them had the image of an Iplier ego just above a block of text.

“IOUs? Really?” Mark asked when he had first spotted them. “Did all of you do this?”

All four Google units shook their head, their expressions showing exactly what they thought of the idea, but the other Iplier egos grinned.

“One card equals unlimited time with the matching ego, no questions asked,” Bim Trimmer said, his tone suggesting that he was announcing a prize of some kind. “Because what better gift is there than quality time with us?”

Mark started to answer, but Bing spoke over him. “Suh, and check out the flip side! You can also use your card to get us to leave you alone for the day!”

Bing paused and, looking at the other egos, asked, “Your guys’ said that too, right? It wasn’t just mine?”

“…What’s it take to get one of these?” Mark muttered as he flipped the card over and read the back.

You straightened the stack of ego cards and found one among them that didn’t match. It was a small, dark card with bright silver writing that caught the light and seemed to glow as you read it.

One (1) get out of Little Y/N for a Day free card. Can be used at any time before or during the spell’s effect.

“This is a joke, right?” you had asked Marvin suspiciously after he handed you the card when the others weren’t paying attention.

“What? Of course, I would never abuse a spell I recently learned for my own amusement or as a gift for someone else,” the magician said, laughing at the idea. His eyes glinted behind his mask as he added in a lower voice, “You might want to keep that on you though, just in case.”

You considered the card for a moment before pulling the wallet out of your pocket and sliding it into an open space. The wallet was another gift, of course, as was the photograph inside.

Abe had waited until after the day in town, after everyone had returned to the house, until the one last trip to the beach. Out on the sand, where for once in his life his so-called undercover Hawaiian shirt almost blended in, Abe pulled you aside and said, “Here, Partner. From me.”

“Your wallet?” you asked.

“What? No! I’m never giving that up,” Abe said, offended at the very idea. “No, this is your wallet. There’s no badge, of course, but they’re still useful for keeping the important things around.”

You took the leather wallet and opened it to find a picture already inside. It was one of you and Abe, taken during a “case” that mainly seemed to involve staking out an ice cream parlor for reasons the detective had no time to explain then or ever since.

You smiled at it now as you had then, just before you had looked up at Abe and said, “I’ll take good care of it, partner.”

There were more photographs in the bag, which had been tucked away in their own pocket so as not to bend. You took your time going through them, picking which ones to add to the cork board on your wall here and which to take to your room at Mark’s house.

A picture of Mark, side eyeing a mannequin in one of the store windows. Jack with Ethan on his shoulders, both together still not tall enough to match the imposing statue in the center of town. The Host, splashing in the water with the other egos. Amy and Kathryn standing proud beside the clear winner of a sand castle building competition. You in one of your new Google shirts, a rare smile on the androids’ faces as they leaned into the shot. A surprise encounter with the Chef at the place where you stopped for lunch (seriously, did he work everywhere? But at least you got a free dessert, so that was nice), giving the camera a crooked smile as he leaned over Mark’s chair while Mark’s face was locked into more of a grimace, his eyes trying not to look at the dripping knife next to his shoulder

And then there were pictures you hadn’t personally taken. There was a wonderful picture of Wilford dragging Dark out into the ocean, which you knew you would cherish forever. You’d found a selfie on your phone taken by the Host, his eyes glowing gold as he tilted the camera to catch you sipping coffee in the background. The Septic egos lined up and dancing together like a boy band. Mark, Wade, Bob, Tyler, and Ethan apparently in a dance-off with said egos, with Jack as a heavily biased referee. A photo mixed in from Jack’s camera of Chase looking up at the tiny version of you perched on the brim of his cap (“Photoshop”, you and Jack had said to Mark before hastily hiding the rest of those pictures).

There was also a picture of you from last night, asleep on the couch with Chica, Henry, and Spencer all joining you for a nice nap.

The Host had asked at one point how Jack’s party went. The egos were more than happy to tell him plenty of stories (and while you hadn’t been able to see at the time, you were fairly sure more than a few of them were made up). Mark and Jackieboy took the opportunity to roast each other’s dance moves while Jack just said again how grateful he was for everything.

But you had to admit to the Host that you had fallen asleep early and missed some of it. “Someone even had to carry me up to my room after it was over. I wish I knew who it was so I could thank them.”

Because so far no one had admitted to being the one to carry you upstairs, and you certainly hadn’t mentioned the kiss to anyone. The closest you got was when Marvin said the idea had been thrown around to let you sleep on the couch all night and surprise you in the morning, which explained why no one else seemed to be around when you were taken to your room.

The Host was well aware that more than one person was suddenly listening, and there might be repercussions depending on what he said. He was also well aware of the standard response to give in situations like this, so he answered without hesitation:

“Kinkiplier.”

There was only one other gift, one that you had carried in rather than put in your bag. Dark hadn’t spoken to you once today, but you had no doubt in your mind who had given you the rose which now sat on your nightstand beneath the mirror on the wall.

A pretty flower didn’t even begin to make up for everything he had put you and everyone else through over the past year, but you’d kept it anyways. A more cynical part of you wondered how anything could possibly have survived under his care as you studied the way the colors mixed and blended together, until you paused, your thumb gently pressed against one of the petals. At the base of it, almost hidden among the deep reds and blues, was a shot of green. Examining the rose closer, you found more than one of the petals had traces of green in their folds, hiding from sight.

Strange. If you had to guess, you would have thought this was a red rose that had blue dye added to it at some point, or a white rose with both colors added. So how did that get there?

You inhaled, taking in the sweet scent of the rose one last time before replacing the vase on your nightstand. As you straightened up you caught sight of your reflection in the mirror and hesitated. It was the same mirror that always turned up in your room again and again no matter how many times you tried to get rid of it. By this point you had just taken to covering it up with a sheet or something whenever it bothered you.

One year. One year and a day ago you fell through a mirror and into this place, back into a life that still felt like it wasn’t completely your own. You thought of the District Attorney as you stared at your own reflection and managed a smile for them.

“Happy Birthday. Here’s to another year, together.”

You thought you saw a flicker of movement, something slightly off around the eyes, but when you blinked it was just your own reflection staring back at you. You sighed and, feeling a little silly, walked away to take care of one last thing before getting ready for bed. You failed to notice the swiftly fading imprint on the mirror’s surface.

The mark left by a hand, pressed against the other side of the glass.

That one last thing was a photograph, the only one that you had chosen to frame. You smiled at the image as you hung the frame on your wall and stepped back to make sure it was level.

It was a wide, panorama shot of everyone. You, Mark, Jack, Abe, all of the egos, all of your friends, even Dark being held in place by a borderline choke hold from Wilford, all gathered together on the beach and smiling at the camera. A rare picture of your family all in one place.

Your admittedly weird, dysfunctional, possibly emotionally scarring family, which you wouldn’t give up for the world.

((And that’s the end of Anniversaries! Thank you for reading, but also thank you all so much for the encouragement over the past year. I had absolutely no idea how this would go over when I first started, and I definitely hadn’t planned for it to go as long as it has.

I do have more than a couple of ideas floating around for where this goes from here. Got to counterbalance all of this fluff, right? Kidding, sort of, but it’s going to be a while before I can even start on that, so until then they can enjoy the moment.

Tagging: @silver-owl413 @skyewardlight @cherrybomb-jaguar @blackaquokat @catgirlwarrior @neverisadork @luna1350 @oh-so-creepy @purpstraw @weirdfoxalley @95fangirl @lilalovesinternet-l @thepoolofthedead @a-bit-dapper @randomartdudette @geekymushroom @cactipresident @hotcocoachia @purple-anxiety-blog @shyinspiredartist ))

#markiplier #jacksepticeye #fanfic #wkm y/n #wkm district attorney #darkiplier #Wilford Warfstache #iplier egos #septic egos #wkm detective #disconnect #beach episode #y/n literally holds all the cards

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iarewahlclippersgoodfan-blog · 6 years ago

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Celebrity Grooming Tips Every Man Should Know

I used dog toe clippers to cut every toe nail. Due to the huge selection of toe nail clippers available on the market these days, it can be difficult picking the proper one. Vacuum Cleaners can have the ability to keep you from becoming stuck into the wall when you groom your pet. Color-coded accessories makes getting the correct cut. Long fur collects dirt and germsit is prone to becoming matted which may be uncomfortable. Here is a Chart from Andis at a PDF format you'll be able to print. Andis UltraEdge puppy clipper blades are produced from high-carbon steel and processed. This is to say it is up to you what you prefer both are on the exact identical brand although that is more convenience to you cordless or the corded , they are powerful clippers with blades. Just like dog grooming accessories, blades are manufactured an assortment of businesses.Professional Hair Clipper Review

24.99. If you would like to improve time between grooming, you could use this short cut on your Schnoodle also. You might want to ask him to demonstrate how to clip the nails when you choose your puppy in for his first hair cut. Whether you've got flowing a wrestler cut, the guide combs that are various makes haircutting easy, even in tricky areas, such and around the ears. Finally, always remember to oil your blades Clipper Oil after you are cut off, and before you cut off. It explains what they're used for and also all the blades. For instance, a number of cordless hair clippers are outfitted with state of the art lithium ion batteries, that require around 45 minutes to attain whole charge. You get additional information and can read reviews of Panasonic ER224S trimmer. It's a complete size clipper using a v5000 engine which is a lot faster than normal motors.

Are you looking for the very best cordless hair clippers, however with so much choice are not sure where you have to invest your money? And there are so known as balding clippers, they're intended to cut as much hair as you can, making the head as bald as you can. 10 is a blade and it is great for all-around use, especially on faces, legs, and ears. In addition, it is ideal for touching sideburns up and trimming around ears necklines. I scrubbed each one and rinsed their fur being more careful not to get any water into their ears or eyes. I had been careful not to get too close because I desired bath time to be a nice experience, or to frighten them. If the blades get warm while trimming then spray on them with Cool Care. The ceramic cutters on such blades stay sharper longer and need less sharpening than standard steel blades. Blades maintain a razor sharp edge that'll endure prolonged use and much more sharpening remedies.

These hair thinning tools' blades are especially meant for animal hairloss. A cutting surface that is more difficult is meant by more carbon onto the metal. It's not a wonderful idea to choose metal clippers. It's cordless - movement versatility. In addition to that, you can control it in an assortment of ways utilizing charging cable or adapter and may be used with cable or without the cord. The Wahl Super Taper hair Clipper is designed to last, and will deliver clean cuts which any barber or hair stylist will be pleased with. The super lasting T-blade is firmly, and adjustable trims quite close to get a flawless trim. For management a taper level allows you to alter the span without a guard or blade change over and to cut really close. It is on the side that is heavier and bulkier, however, the motor is powerful, and the blades are sharp and can cut they are the ones for cuts that are close.

Human nail clippers clippers were not designed for use on dogs, but a number can be used on puppies. I woke up to a dogs today. I gave their foot fur trimming now to the dogs. It is necessary to clip on the fur. Wahl Magic Clip Hair Clipper. You can use the clipper to cut your hair. Well, there are plenty of areas you can search for these chosen tool for your pets. These blades are helpful to show dogs. I will start with the Clippers and blades I urge. It won't also damage readily because it is made sturdy and durable in order it will persist for quite a while even though harsh chemicals will make contact. The touch of the cable may make him move and might raise the dog's anxiety at being groomed.

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bald-tales · 6 years ago

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Fantasies become Reality -Pt 3 scenario 2

Fantasies become Reality - by Titan (pt.3) This is the second scenerio continuation where we see what would happen if Ben had escaped Alex kidnapping plan, though his knight in shining armor, Rick from Rick’s Cutz, may be more like Alex than first appeared. Part 3 - Scenario two: When I returned home, grateful to have escaped Alex thanks to Rick the barber, I poured myself a bourbon looking briefly in the hallway mirror. I was somewhat disappointed it hadn’t been cut or trimmed by Rick, it was too long and thick and I was sort of hoping he would give me a much shorter style, or even shaved clean for that matter. Yes, the barber managed to warn me about Alex and his kidnap plans for me, but I still looked the same hairstyle wise and that’s all I could focus on besides my thick stubble. As I looked at myself I pulled my fringe back exposing my self- inflicted, uneven hairline. As I stared in the mirror I could hear a voice in my head, it was the husky barber, Rick. “We have another day planned when Alex will be away, call me at my shop, I’ll be waiting with clippers ready.” It felt so clear but why? And why would I even consider going back with all the inherent dangers? What I was unaware of was that my beer had been spiked and the drug used was able to break anyone’s will very quickly but didn’t stay long in your system. As the drink had reached its effectiveness, I was unaware of Ricks added talents for hypnosis. When he’d said in the shop,“ I see your are having a problem with getting out of my chair, don’t worry, we have time to go on with your haircut at another date.” I was unaware of his mind manipulation. The beer had taken affect and I was already floating a little unable to move for a moment. Rick started to massage the back of my neck, I could feel myself becoming very tired. I heard his deep voice but it seemed melodic and soft. My eyelids grew heavy and my body so much lighter. “As you relax knowing you are in safe hands with me all you can think of is becomming a sexy, bald man, just like Rick. A smooth, pink crown and a ring of healthy hair with a big bushy beard. You can visualize it, see it happening and you feel good. Relaxed and breathing normally you are so happy and excited. You need to feel that baldness and the sooner the better.” My dick was growing hard as I heard the message. “You trust me and feel turned on by me and what I can do to you; I will turn you into a virile man and it’s all you can think of as you see yourself in the mirror. Bald and bearded that is the new you. Every time you look in the mirror it’s all you can focus on; making your biggest desire come true.” Then Rick repeated some phrases over and over before bringing me out of my drug induced state. “Rick can give you a permanent smooth crown and a beautiful horseshoe of hair joining up with a real mans beard. You can trust Rick to make you sexy Ben.” Over and over he said this before, unaware I had been under I’m sitting in his chair feeling very relaxed and not so nervous. I was very lethargic at first finding it hard to leave the chair. The drug would take a little while to wear off. “Well you’d better be on your way Ben, no telling when Alex arrives.” “Oh! Yes, ah thanks……” I said wanting to escape Alex. And now safely in my apartment, I gazed deeply at myself in the hall mirror where I could almost visualize my head with a smooth crown under my hand. As I moved my hand down to my chin the whiskers felt rough at first, then I imagined a dense, soft beard growing bigger and bigger. At the same time my cock was growing. Putting my drink down I went to lower my jeans, imagining my new self in the mirror, totally turned on to becoming bald and bearded, I started to stroke slowly on my cock. It didn’t take long to return to Ricks shop. I finally phoned his shop feeling compelled to after a few more days of seeing myself in the mirror and hearing that inner voice convinced me I had to go back and have him make me into that man I could now see. “Hello Ben! Nice to see you haven’t shaved the beard, it’s coming along nicely.” The barber seemed friendlier and more interesting than I had first thought on meeting him those few days ago. I marveled at his shiny tanned scalp. “Ah!….well I just can’t seem to shave it off. Every time I try something stops me.” I said nervously. “Good though someone needs a haircut too, that hair is looking way too preppy.” And turning away he went out towards the back, “and someone needs a drink to loosen up.” “Oh ah…no I’m fine.” I tried to sound convincing. “No you’re not, and don’t worry, Alex is away at the moment, in Cairns I believe.” Relaxing a little now at the news he was a few thousand kilometers away in Northern Queensland, I still knew this barber meant business. The thing was I wanted it and hoped he would take my hair permanently today. After he caped me up and the beer had started to work, it was of course spiked again, he went to close the shop. “So ready to have your new hairstyle?” Rick started to rub my hair on top. “I…I think…..just a sh…shorter…” Rick didn’t let me finish. “Just look at yourself in the mirror, that’s it - keep looking. Bald and bearded is the new you. Every time you look in the mirror it’s all you can focus on, making your biggest desire come true.” As I stared at myself I could see the new me. Fuck, I wanted this more than anything and my cock was proving it. “So ready for your haircut Benny?” Rick said as he grabbed some oversized clippers from a hook on the side of the counter. “Yeah.” I murmured as I rubbed my crotch under the cape. “So how short do you want me to go?” Switching the clippers on the noise filling the room. “Smooth like you….” “Male pattern bald like me?” “Yes….smooth and shiny on top….just like you Rick.” “Your wish is my command.” And without wasting any more time he ran the clippers down the center of my head leaving light stubble behind. Despite my drugged state my eyes widened and my mouth dropped. Finally I was being made bald and I was so excited and turned on. As row after row of hair was cleared I didn’t want the clipper action to end. Suddenly the shop was full of silence as I realized he’d stopped the clipper action. “So you still want to go shorter?” He leant down and whispered in my ear. “Y..yes…sh..shorter…” I stammered hoping to hear those clippers again. Rick turned to the counter and picked up a smaller pair of red clippers. “These should help make that hair much shorter boy!” Their high pitched sound put me on edge and I wanted to cum right there in the chair but what I didn’t know was the drug was preventing me from getting too aroused down there. Rick knew it would help not only keep him in charge of Ben’s transformation but prolong the euphoria Ben would be feeling. As the red clipper took the remaining hair away I couldn’t even see stubble, only white pale skin. Shit, he was really making me bald. He kept going over the top leaving the buzzed hair on the sides. I could now see how I would look as a young man with severe male pattern baldness. The beard seemed to show up even more now and I wondered how long it would take to grow. It’s what I wanted wasn’t it? To be bald and bearded, a virile, masculine man, the voice inside my head kept saying. Rick always loved this part where he started to design how much baldness the customer would have. The balding clipper went well below the crown, Rick deciding this boy would be even balder than him. “Yes, I’m giving you a nice sexy dip at the back Benny, you’re going to love it.” I couldn’t believe what I was hearing but in my relaxed state I could barely react. As he worked lowering the side a little more he added, “We are going to grow the fringe out a bit more on the sides, it will go so much better with your new beard.” As I watched I wondered how long that beard would take to grow? As if sensing my thoughts Rick said, “Oh and don’t worry, I have a little special help for that beard to grow into a luscious, full beard.” When Rick had finished creating the area of baldness with the trimmers he turned back to the counter and took a plain tube of something then pulling on some latex gloves. “Ready for permanent smoothness Benny?” “Hmm….y..yes…..smooth and shiny…..” I almost moaned as I realized he was using some sort of hair remover. What I didn’t know was along with many of the other products in the shop, this depilatory was developed in Alex’s lab and was a very strong hair remover barely needing a second or third coat for permanent results. As he spread the cream over my bald areas he said something about leaving it on for just a little bit longer as my shadow was quiet dark. He changed gloves and got another big jar of gel-like substance. He took a big glob and started to spread it over my thick stubble. “A couple of coats of this will help you with that beard too.” He rubbed it carefully wherever the whiskers were growing. He seemed to spend a little more time on my top lip and after a while it started to tingle. When he finished up I could hardly believe the way I felt. This man was changing me into a bald and bearded man, someone I wanted to be more than anything or so I thought, I hardly noticed the big hair dryer he rolled over. “This will help you become that virile masculine man so much quicker.” he said as he switched it on. I could feel warm air on my newly denuded head, the sensation wild and exciting. I wanted to touch my scalp but I couldn’t really move my arms. After awhile the skin started to tighten as it got hotter under the dryer. He lowered it more as even my face was being blowdried. “Now why don’t you just relax and let Alex’s potions work their magic and let me take a break eh Benny?” He was rubbing my neck and shoulders again giving a relaxing massage and I felt so good. I closed my eyes hearing the barber briefly at times telling me how good I would look when I woke. I was aware of light at times than I would feel something being applied to my head, more rubbing and more heat from above than something being applied to my face. All the time I just felt lethargic and heavy. At one time I woke up to having some tube in my mouth. I couldn’t move as something was being pumped into the tube leading down my throat, it was beer. I was now lying down on some bedding, Rick having moved me onto a portable camp bed in the shop where he could keep me drugged with the copious amounts of beer he was feeding me along with a special, weight gain mixture. I heard him say while I was being fed, “Yes Benny, you’re coming along nicely. You are going to really get a taste for beer real soon.” LATER Then all of a sudden I smelt something odd under my nose. It almost made me gag but I was aware of light and my eyes tried to open. “Wake up Benny, its time for you to see the new you.” A familiar voice said. As I tried to focus I realized I was still in Ricks barbershop. How long had I been here? “Come on sleepy head, we haven’t got long as I want to get you home before Alex comes back.” Suddenly everything came rushing back, and I was aware of Rick standing in front of me. I felt tired and as I moved my head I felt something on my chin. As I looked down I could see hair below my nose. I licked my top lip and could imeadiately feel thick whiskers. “Yes, that mustache is already looking good, nice and big; ready to see the new you Benny?” Rick said jovially while turning the barber chair around to face the mirror. “Ta da!” He sang. “What do you think?” “Wh….what….how did you…..?” I just stared at myself in the mirror. It was a very different me, I barely recognized myself. How long had I been here? The strong shop lights reflected off my shiny, smooth scalp that no longer looked white. The stubble that had been left around the sides was now a very thick, manicured horseshoe of hair, darker and matching the color of the beard that flourished on my face. It had the same careful manicuring by the barber. I took my hand and touched my head drawing it down to the perfectly trimmed hair beneath. I loved the feel, it was so much better than I thought, no shadow or hair showing on top. The balding looked very natural as the edges had been carefully blended with a epilator. That must have been the pulling I felt at times. I now looked as though I’d been bald for many years. “What about the beard?” Rick asked marveling at my changes himself. I began to run my hand over the lush beard that was now full and surprisingly soft. The mustache was a little thicker hiding my top lip and it curled a little at each end. “How…could you…do all this so qu…quickly?” I asked mesmerized as I took in all the changes. “You’ve been here for three days and I thought we should do everything you needed to have done straight away before you changed your mind.” Rick replied. “Th…three days?” I was shocked but something told me not to make a big deal out of it, Rick was just trying to help me become the bald and bearded man I was craving to be. “I like the added weight too, it suites you!“ My eyes looked down to my lap where a small ball belly stretched my t-shirt exposing my stomach a little. Then I remembered the tube going down my throat. “So how about a beer to celebrate?” Rick asked noticing where I was looking. “Fuck yeah!” I said wondering where that had come from all of a sudden. “You sure can put them away and their sure helping you grow that belly you wanted.” I was confused but what Rick was saying seemed to be right wasn’t it? I was too thin to be a bald and bearded virile, masculine man. I wasn’t aware that the phrase ‘so how about a beer to celebrate’ was the trigger phrase for my new personality to kick in. Rick had been working on re-wiring me while in his shop. He was more than pleased as he noticed the change in me. Rick had worked hard to achieve the new man before him. He wasn’t going to go this far but once he started he couldn’t stop. A little of his Alex inspired side took over. He’d used Alex’s potions on the beard and horseshoe multiple times, surprised at how well they worked quickly growing the hair. He’d tanned the skin and ensured no stray hairs would be appearing in the future. He’d also arranged for Benny to tender his resignation at his workplace; well he couldn’t return with the extreme changes. None of this could happen while on a few weeks leave. No, Benny was going to be doing more manual work from now on as Rick built him up and out. And that beard needed some more work, but first he’d have to get Benny home and start organizing his new life. He had to make sure Alex never found out what he’d done. As they both left the barbershop in the growing darkness of early evening they were unaware of being watched.

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becomingkatie · 6 years ago

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So, this weekend I decided I’d do my brazilian wax myself. It was... an adventure. Read on if you want to laugh at my pain! Skip ahead if you have no interest in the trials and triumphs of at-home vag waxing.

I’ve gone to a professional and had a full brazilian done four times. The first time was OHMYGODTHEWORST. Seriously so painful. I wasn’t sure if I’d ever go back. But for the hair to grow back soft instead of instantly turning me into a human cactus was worth it, and I went back, and it was soooo much easier then. The pain was significantly reduced on subsequent visits, and it was all over in under 15 minutes, and boom.

Buttttt I got tired of paying $45+ and only going every 5-6 weeks for money reasons when really I’d like to go every ~3 weeks, so I figured I’d do it myself. The wax warmer, wax, popsicle sticks to apply it, and oil for before and after waxing to prep the hairs and calm the skin all came out to ~$75, so it was more expensive than a single wax, but I won’t have to buy more supplies for a long time. Woohoo!

Fastforward from me feeling all empowered, to me sitting naked on the bathroom floor waiting for the wax to melt, getting increasingly nervous. It took almost an hour for the wax to melt (I was not prepared for that!) so by the time I finally got going it was late. I applied the wax to a small area, then couldn’t do it. I picked at the edges a bit to prep it, counted to three, and froze. Nope. Not happening.

I was ready to go find some trimmers and try to trim/shave the hairs off that were caught in the wax because at this point there was NO WAY I was pulling it off myself. Lucky me, Ken was around and willing to help out. He’d say “Okay, one... two...” and I’d freak out and sit up and wouldn’t let him do it. He was getting more and more annoyed so I finally laid back down, he ripped the strip of wax off, and lo and behold the pain wasn’t so bad.

With some newfound confidence I was able to pull a few more strips off myself, but not with the speed Ken or the professionals used. I’d say “one... two... three... .... ... four... ... okay, one... two...” and pull and get the strip halfway off, then have to pull again because I didn’t fully commit and just yank it all off the first time. Not a good strategy.

With every painful pull, it got harder to commit to the next, until eventually I had two big areas covered in hardened wax that I COULD NOT make myself pull off. I’d touch it, give it the slightest little pull, then wince and stop before repeating a few seconds later. After almost twenty minutes I decided Ken would have to pull these off because I could not do it, but he was on the phone so I’d just have to wait. I waxed a few smaller, less sensitive spots myself (win!) and then when Ken got off the phone repeated the process of him getting ready to pull and me freaking the eff out.

When he pulled them off it was - you guessed it - totally not that bad at all! But it’s really, really hard to inflict pain on myself, even when I know it’s easier if I just commit and go for it.

After that I was done. I knew I’d gotten worked up enough that there was no way I’d be able to do any more, and I didn’t want poor Ken to have to do any more for me, so I called it. So, half my vag is smooth-ish (stray hairs and bumps from not being a pro), half is hairy, and all of it is embarrassed at that ordeal.

And here’s the “What I Would Have Done If I’d Known Then What I Know Now.” I am glad I went to the pros first. It helped me know about how big to make each strip of wax, and how thick, and how to hold the skin taught and pull, and what to expect. But I think I went wrong when I thought I’d do the whole thing myself at once. That’s a lot to embark upon for a wimpy person who’s never done this before.

I think I should have started by only doing the bikini area at home, and slowly working my way up to being able to do more. I mean, that means having some hairy areas and some not hairy ones, which some people wouldn’t be cool with, but neither Ken nor I really care if my vag looks sexy or silly or what (because let’s be honest, they all just look weird, no matter what the hair situation is).

That’s what I plan to do now. Later this week, when the skin has calmed down, I’ll heat the wax up and do a couple spots I missed, but limit it to just two pieces of wax. I can woman up and pull two measly pieces of wax off myself (I hope). Then over the next few weeks as the hair grows back, keep it up doing small areas at a time, until eventually I’m able to do the whole thing.

ANYWAY that was a really long story to say that (1) I am a big ol’ wimp, (2) Ken can add “wax girlfriend’s vagina” to the list of things he never thought he’d do, and (3) I’m gonna have a silly half-hairy vagina for a WHILE as I sort this out.

Anyway happy Monday! May none of you have to get your boyfriends to wax your vaginas today!

#adventures in waxing #in which katie tries to wax her own vag #but ken ends up doing it #because i am a wimp #and he is a saint #brazilian wax #at home brazilian #waxing at home

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the-re-farmer · 6 years ago

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Yes!!!

It is finally done!

The maple grove/west yard trees are now finally cleared, trimmed and cleaned up. After this, there will just be the basic maintenance to be taken care of in this area for the rest of the year. Aside from maybe trimming the tall stumps, if we get a full size chainsaw before winter.

What a difference!

When I headed out today, the first priority was to clean up the branches and trees from last time. In the process, I went digging around for downed branches under the last bit of trees I needed to work on, grabbed what I thought was a branch and found…

… metal.

This is what I dragged out.

I haven’t the foggiest clue what it is.

It went on the junk pile by the old garden shed.

Once I did that, I broke out the weed trimmer and went to town in all the areas I’ve been working on that hadn’t been trimmed yet.

Oh, my, does it ever look awesome!!! (click on the pictures)

While I was using the weed trimmer, I kept having to stop and pull more branches out of the dead leaves, as I found them with the line on the trimmer. My daughters cleaned away what they could find. I had been taking what I cleared out of the last section (photos below) to the pile out of the yard, but by the end of the day, I was getting too tired to do both. It was quite pleasant to work among the trees, but once I got out of the yard with the wheel barrow, or dragging a tree or two, it was like walking into a wall of heat. So I started leaving things to the side, then the girls did a fantastic job of cleaning it all away, later.

While I wasn’t going to work on the rest of the fence line, I did go in with the weed trimmer. I took the before picture when I last worked in the area a few days ago.

There was just the last bit to work on, over by the power pole (see below). I went into it with the weed trimmer as much as I could, but there was a section by the gooseberry bush I couldn’t reach, because I kept getting stabbed by low hanging and dead branches!

This side will probably need to be thinned down more, but I will wait and see how the remaining trees do over the next year or two. If the maples do well, I might trim the elms to give them more room to grow, because maples can get so huge. If the elms do well, I may trim the maples. The maple I’m standing next to as I take the photo (in the foreground, to the right) is going to need thinning, but it can wait.

Several times, I started to clear a maple, then thought, oh… it’s actually an elm. No, it’s a maple. No, it’s… both??

There were groups of trees where maple and elm were growing against each other. !!

This next section shows some apple trees.

In the before picture, there is a crab apple tree that is part of the row of crab apples in the middle of this area, but this one had so many little apple trees growing around it. Likely self seeded, as apples fell over the years. As I went through them, trying to figure out what to keep and what to take out, I discovered the biggest one – the one that would have been originally planted – was almost entirely dead. It had two younger ones growing next to it, so I left those. They are too close together, but I will see which of them does better over the next few years, before deciding if they need to be thinned more.

The major challenge was the big ornamental apple tree. The branches were so twisted and wrapped around each other, with living tangled up with the dead. It was a struggle to get them free of each other. Most of it was growing towards the East – the morning sun would be the only real sunlight it would be getting – and that’s there all the little apples is had are hanging from.

There were so many dead branches higher up on all of these trees. The extended pruning saw got quite a workout. Not just to pull down or cut dead branches, but to untangle them to get them down.

Sadly, I was not able to use my little electric chain saw/extended pole pruner. I checked it over thoroughly (it’s really designed to be idiot proof) and everything looked good. Yet when I tried to use it, it started screaming and immediately began to jam. It was also dripping chain oil. 😦

Time to see how long the warranty is for. 😦 Or if it’s still covered. All I can think of that’s different that might be an issue is the chain oil. The oil it came with was perfectly clear, like water. The chain oil I have now is generic, and red. The paperwork did recommend using their brand of chain oil, but it seems not to be available in Canada.

This rather sucks, because it did make work go much faster, when it was working!

Still, I have the tools I need to do the job, and the next time I am able to work on the trees, it will be at the spruce grove! Woo Hoo!!!

I love this work. 😀

The Re-Farmer

Clean up: west yard trees – FINISHED! Yes!!! It is finally done! The maple grove/west yard trees are now finally cleared, trimmed and cleaned up.

#Clean Up #crab apple trees #elm #manual labour feels good #maple #maple grove #postaday #the things we find #trees are not always good things #west yard

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starryvioletnight · 7 years ago

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We’re Back

Summary: Dark has figured out a way to sever his entire being into two halves. Sentiment has finally caught up to him, and the only reason he’s doing this is to make Wilford happy. Long fic. And ANGST because today’s mood is ANGST. (Mentioned darkstache, William/Wilford x Damien at the end) Enjoy~

You can’t really be serious. The Seer’s voice echoed in Dark’s skull as he sat at his desk, writing out a list of responsibilities she would have once she had her own form to command. You have to listen to me, this isn’t a good idea. You could do so much damage just attempting this. Please-

"Quiet.” Dark commanded. “You’re only frightened because I am. Stop letting me influence your thoughts.”

It’s a little difficult to do that... The Mayor spoke up, his voice the softer of the two, as usual. You are the glue that holds us together. Purposely splitting us in half... That seems dangerous. Besides, how would we be able to maintain such a state of dual existence?

“I can bleed into separate realities, bend the current reality to my will, and possess other dangerous abilities, and you think I can’t maintain the existence of two bodies?” Dark scoffed, offended. “In essence, our roles are going to be switched. The two of you, Celine, Damien,” Using their real names and not just their titles left a bad taste in Dark’s mouth, but he carried on, “Will have control of your lives. I shall be the voice in your heads, fueling you. Now, your existences, while separate, will still be linked. I will be in both of your heads, simultaneously, always. Chances are on occasion, if you focus, you’ll be able to hear each other’s thoughts as well.”

Dark moved on, now creating a list for the Mayor to follow. After all, they were about to become ‘Darkiplier’, and that title held so many things that had to be done always. He wondered how he’d ever done it before, with just one body.

Aren’t you going to miss Wilford?

Both of them had asked the question at the same time. It startled Dark, and he stopped writing. He closed his eyes, took a deep breath and held it for a few moments. “No,” He said as he exhaled. “Not at all. In fact, he’s the reason I’m doing this. He keeps moping about his friends being gone. He’s hardly getting any work done.”

This was a lie. All three of them knew it was a lie, since Wilford had only mentioned Damien or Celine once in the last few months and he was working even harder than usual. Dark had developed a certain emotional range, which included care for Wilford. Even, Damien and Celine would guess, love.

Dark finished the Mayor’s list quicker than the Seer’s. The Mayor would be fulfilling Dark’s ‘behind the scenes’ work, which was just as much as his ‘head of the egos’ work, but required less notes. Dark glanced at the Seer’s list again. “I have full confidence that you will be able to manage a room full of loud, idiotic men.” He commented.

Of course I can. Celine remarked. I’m the only reason you can do it in the first place.

Dark laughed quietly. “You’ve got me there.” He agreed. “Now, if you have any questions about what you need to do to run this place, do not hesitate to ask. I’ll always be there.”

Dark, wait. Damien spoke up again. Are you absolutely sure you want to do this?

“Without question.” Dark told him. “Now, are you ready?”

Neither voices spoke, and Dark shrugged it off. By morning, he would cease to exist as he existed now. And he was perfectly okay with it. He ignored the small ache in his chest, and the longing to go and tell Wilford goodbye. A goodbye would only make things complicated. His last, conscious thought before pain, fear, and the unknown overtook him was simply, please let Wilford be truly happy once again.

Damien was on the floor. It was the first thing he noticed when he woke up. He was on the floor, and his back ached. He groaned as he sat up, before looking down at his ruffled suit and tie. Then he jumped up and looked in the mirror. His heart raced, and tears sprung from his eyes as he realized that he was himself. He was in control. All around him, a blue aura hung, one that had once been mixed with Celine’s red, to form the terrifying being known as Dark.

“Celine!” He yelled suddenly, then was startled by the sound of his own voice. When he turned around, Celine was laying on Dark’s queen sized bed, wearing a suit identical to his own, which hung off her smaller frame. She stirred, sitting up and rubbing her eyes. All around her was the red aura, matching Damien’s blue in strength and intensity.

“Damien...” She murmured sleepily. “Damien?”

Damien couldn’t help himself. He tackled her on the bed, hugging her in delight. “Look at us! Look at us!” He said, eyes shining brightly and happily. “Look! We have control! Isn’t that... Isn’t that fantastic?”

Celine yelped before hugging Damien back with a grin. “I see that!”

Your joy is sickening. The two jumped at the voice in their heads, not at all used to it. Yes, you have your own bodies. Whoop-pee. Dark’s sarcasm was incredibly too noticeable. Celine, in the closet there are clothes that will fit you and are to your liking. Damien, please put on a different, less rumpled suit.

The two siblings followed their orders, Celine finding a pretty, black dress in the closet with some accessories and undergarments she’d need. Seeing it made her genuinely smile, and she hugged the garment to her chest. Damien pulled out Dark’s only three piece suit, which was plaid and cornflower blue in color, with a white button up and a yellow tie.

Neither left the room to change, simply facing away from each other as they did. Damien looked down his torso, frowning. “Hey, Celine?”

“Yes?”

“Do you have a uh, a bullet wound?”

“... Yeah, I do.” She admitted. “In the exact same spot William shot the district attorney.”

Did you really think I gave you brand new bodies to work with? Of course not. These are copies of the body we shared. Be careful with them. They’re the only ones you’re getting.

Dark sounded like a parent, and it made both Celine and Damien smile. When they were done getting dressed, and Celine had applied make up to her liking, the two stared at the door.

“Are we ready to do this?” Damien asked in a whisper. “I’m a little scared to face the other egos.”

Celine stood tall and cracked her neck. “Don’t be afraid, Damien. No one is going to mess with either of us. Not if I have anything to say about it.” She told him gently, ruffling his hair lightly. Damien frowned and fixed it quickly, making her laugh. “Honestly, Damien, are we sure you’re the older sibling here?”

“Hey!” Damien said.

“I’m kidding.” Celine reassured him, hugging him. Damien hugged her back, and after both were ready to go, they walked out of the bedroom door. They walked side by side, both standing tall and radiating confidence; even Damien, who was still uneasy about the situation.

The other egos stared as they walked down the hall, and both siblings walked into the conference room. Celine looked at the notes Dark had left from the day before, and Damien took a seat next to her.

“Excuse me,” A voice said, and both looked up to see Bim Trimmer. “Who are you? And... why are you in Dark’s spot? He’s not going to be too happy about that.”

Damien was up immediately, and flashed a charismatic grin. “Ah, yes this must be confusing.” He walked over to Bim. “I’m Damien, and this is my sister, Celine. And you are Bim Trimmer, if I’m not mistaken?”

“Yeah.” Bim replied, confused. “How do you know that?”

“I promise, once all the egos are here, we will explain.” Damien’s grin was now just a little wider. Bim relaxed and returned his grin with a smile, feeling comforted by Damien’s charm. Bim took his seat, and slowly, the other egos filtered in.

Damien and Celine waited, glancing at the end of the table, wondering when Wilford was going to show up. Celine frowned and adjusted her papers. “Of course he’s late.” She muttered.

“Did you really expect anything different?” Damien asked fondly, smiling. “I’m sure you remember your wedding day, and how he nearly missed it. I had to drag him out of bed and dress him myself.” He chuckled.

Celine found herself smiling. “I do remember that, yes... I suppose we’ll just have to start without him.” She got to her feet, clearing her throat as she commanded attention of the room. “I know all of you are confused.” She said. “Except, maybe the Host,”

She glanced at him for confirmation, and got a nod.

“So, here’s what happened...”

Celine explained Dark’s past, then explained how she and Damien had become two beings and not the one that was contained in a singular vessel. It was at the very end of her story when the doors opened, and a bright and bushy Warfstache joined them.

“Mornin’! How’s ever-”

He stopped when he saw Damien and Celine, and Damien got to his feet with his sister. None of them spoke for a long moment. Damien could feel his palms get sweaty and his heart skip a beat, and literal tears came to Celine’s eyes. What are you fools waiting for? Say something, do something. He’s just as startled as you.

Damien and Celine dashed around the table, hugging Wilford from both sides, the pink mustached man still in shock. “D-Damien? Celine?” He whispered.

“Yeah,” Damien said. “It’s us.”

“But...” Wilford swallowed, hard. “But where’s Dark? He-he said that you guys were... were gone... and not coming back...”

Celine swallowed hard. “He’s... gone.” She said quietly. “He sacrificed himself, so we could come back. But, but if you would prefer to have him here-”

Shut your mouth, Celine.

“We can go back. If you would rather have him here, we can go back.” Damien finished.

I will make both of your lives hell, do you understand?

You sacrificed your control, Dark. Celine thought calmly. Now we’re giving Wilford the option to have you back. He deserves that much.

Wilford glanced between his two closest friends. His body was shaking a little, and he looked as if he might cry. “I-I’ll miss Dark...” He decided. “But, I would rather have you two here...”

Damien and Celine both smiled. The three remained in the embrace for far longer than need be, before they decided they needed to get back to work. Celine took control of the room again, Damien sitting beside her and taking notes over what everyone says and good ideas that they have. When the meeting is adjourned, Damien collects his papers and smiles, going off to the office to get some of the work there done, as Dark’s list said he should.

“I had no idea that Dark’s feminine side was the assertive one.” Bing said. “Who woulda knew that?”

Celine narrowed her eyes at the android, in a move that was so distinctly Dark, it silenced him immediately. “A lot of Dark’s more... intimidating, behaviors came from my half of the being.” She cracked her neck to make a point, and Bing shivered. Celine of course then stood up straight and smiled. “This doesn’t mean I’m only Dark. I am my own person. It just means that you will not talk down to me, or my brother, at all. If you speak to either of us in a way you wouldn’t speak to Dark, I will make you suffer.” Her red aura extended out, and the other egos nodded in agreement with her.

Wilford simply bellowed a deep laugh. “Oh Celine! I’ve missed you!” He beamed. “It’s been too long.”

“It is.” Celine smiled. “It certainly has, Wilford.”

Dark had been gone for a week before Wilford decided he needed to talk with Celine about.. what they had been before. It hadn’t become an issue yet, but it was something he thought about from time to time. While they were alone, talking together, laughing about something the Jims did, Wilford cleared his throat.

“I... wanted to ask you about something.” He said.

“What’s on your mind, Wilford?” Celine asked with a smile.

“Do you remember our... affair?” He asked.

Celine tensed a bit. “Oh, yes of course I do...”

“It didn’t really, end well.” Wilford laughed quietly, nervously. “You just left one morning. I mean, you left a note telling me where you were going and why you left, and I of course respected that and trusted you, but...” Wilford shrugged. “I just... want...”

“Some closure?” Celine offered quietly, and Wilford nodded. “I’m so sorry Wilford. I woke up one morning beside you in bed, and I realized... I didn’t love you.” She looked at the ground. “I didn’t love you, or Mark... not like that. I cared deeply for you both, but nothing that one should build a relationship off of. I wanted to get out, and didn’t know how to say it.”

Wilford nodded. “I understand.” He said quietly. “I do, we had something that never would have lasted.” He reached out and took her hand. “I just wish you would have said goodbye.”

Celine held his hand in response, before just flat out hugging him. He hugs her back, and holds her close. They stayed like that for a long moment, before pulling away.

“I’m so sorry,” Celine told him quietly.

“I am too,” Wilford replied. “I hardly gave you a chance to talk with me about what you were feeling. I was too... excited, by our new relationship.”

Celine smiled. “I suppose there’s fault on both sides.”

Wilford nodded. “I’m glad we got to discuss it, though. It feels more...” He shrugged, and smiled.

Celine nodded, smiling brightly. It did feel nice to discuss that with Wilford, no longer worried about having it weighing on her heart. You should mention Damien, Celine. I... I am sure Damien would appreciate it.

“Oh!” Celine exclaimed, startling Wilford, and she cleared her throat. “Wilford, do you remember... when we played truth or dare, the four of us? And Mark dared you to kiss Damien?”

“Oh! I do!” Wilford laughed happily. “Poor chap, the man was beet red! I used to tease him that I was his first kiss.” He grinned, and a glimmer of something shined in his eyes as he remembered.

“Well... You know why he turned red, right?” She asked.

Wilford looked confused, albeit slightly hopeful. “There was a reason?”

“It’s because he loves you. He did then, and does now.” That was a bit brash. Dark commented. You certainly have more tact than that, don’t you? Celine ignored Dark’s remarks. “He loves you more than he’d say.”

Wilford looked gobsmacked. For a moment, he didn’t know what to do, he just stared at Celine. Then he turned and ran down the hall, to Dark’s office, where Damien now was to do paperwork.

Wilford burst in through the door, staring at Damien in confusion and realization. Damien looked up and smiled gently. “Hello Wilford. Are you okay?” He asked, concern coloring his tone lightly. “You look... a little shaken up.”

I hope you’re prepared for what’s to happen next, Mayor. I know I wasn’t, the first time it happened.

Damien didn’t get a chance to ask Dark what he meant, Wilford walking around to his side of the desk and kissing him. Damien made a small noise of surprise, but otherwise returned the kiss happily, wrapping an arm around Wilford’s neck. Damien had of course felt Wilford’s kisses second-hand, when he, Celine and Dark were confined to one body, but this was a whole new world of feeling.

He held onto Wilford tightly, staying close to his body when Wilford broke the kiss. “Ho-how’d you find out?” Damien asked quietly, face bright red.

“Celine told me.” Wilford admitted. “Damien, I loved you too. I just didn’t think... When we were younger, when we spent time together and kissed just that one time... I never thought you wanted anything more. Whenever I made an advance, you always turned such a bright red I thought perhaps you were embarrassed.”

“No!” Damien demanded. “No, no no I was just so flustered and I cared so much for you and I didn’t know what to say or do because I just thought it was either an accident or perhaps, with that one time with truth or dare that you were just doing it because you were dared or something I didn’t think-”

Breathe, Mayor.

Damien took a deep breath. “Wilford-”

“William.” The pink mustache man corrected.

“William...” Damien said, a newfound joy in his eyes. “I love you so much...”

“I love you too.” William told him, nuzzling his nose against Damien’s.

Damien kissed him again, deeper, holding onto William as tightly as he could. William made a noise and pulled away, closing and locking the door, as well as closing the shades on the window to the door. Damien’s eyes lit up with excitement as he did, letting William pull him close in his arms and kiss him as passionately as he could.

They certainly are happy. Dark informed Celine.

Celine laughed quietly. “I’m happy for them.” She smiled. “They’re good for each other.”

Yes... Wilford is going by William again.

Celine slowed her movements. “I suppose this may mean that his fractured sanity has been put back together.”

You were right. I miss him.

Celine took a deep breath. “I... I can’t agree to bringing you back. Not when Damien is so happy now. It would shatter him.”

I don’t want you to. You and Damien deserve this happiness. As does Wilf-, William.

Celine nodded and adjusted some papers. “Thank you, Dark. I don’t know what made you think so selflessly in the first place, but I’m grateful for it.”

Dark didn’t make another comment. Just let her continue doing her work, ignoring the half of his mind that was with Damien. He simply existed between the two humans, no longer having an ounce of privacy for his own thoughts.

It’s like being in the house again. He thought recklessly.

“Maybe some day you can get a body for yourself?” Celine asked hopefully.

Dark didn’t bother to try and fight her. So he simply stated, Maybe.

#nancy's writings #long fic #darkiplier #wilford warfstache #damien the mayor #celine the seer #markiplier fanfiction #william the colonel

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